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 Cornell University Library 
 DA 391.1.B9G44 1908 
 
 Romance of George VilHers. 
 
 3 1924 028 036 659 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028036659 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 Knowledge is Power 
 
 Facts and Ideas 
 
 The Romance of Empire 
 
 Founders of the Empire 
 
 Men and Women of the French Revolution 
 
THE ROMANCE OF 
 GEORGE VILLIERS 
 
 FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 AND SOME MEN AND WOMEN 
 OF THE STUART COURT 
 
 BY 
 
 PHILIP GIBBS 
 
 WITH TWENTY ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 1908 
 Tl/ 
 
ft ^tfiSO 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 I SUPPOSE that among those who daily pass Villiers Street 
 and Buckingham Street in the Strand, or stop to glance at 
 the grey stone-work in the Embankment Gardens, which 
 was once the river gate to York House, scarcely one in a 
 thousand gives a thought to George Villiers, first Duke of 
 Buckingham, whose ghost — if ghosts walk — must surely haunt 
 these streets and this site of old-time splendour. But to those 
 who read history the memory of Buckingham is curiously 
 haunting. The tradition of a personal beauty dazzling to the 
 eyes of his contemporaries still lingers in old letters and old 
 memoirs, and this beauty of the man which was the origin of his 
 astonishing fortune, still has some power, in mere remembrance, 
 to move hearts in his favour, though reason may condemn him. 
 Yet he had many shining qualities beyond his handsome face. In 
 two Courts, where there were many men of splendid presence and 
 high intellect, George Villiers, whose intellect was not so trained 
 and subtle, bore them down by a daring magnificence, and care- 
 less arrogance, and brilliant charm of manners. The favours 
 that were lavished on him by two kings he took lightly, and 
 being raised from quite a humble estate (though a gentleman by 
 birth) held his place easily as Lord Paramount over many great 
 noblemen whose rank was theirs by inheritance. He had few 
 friends beyond his Royal masters — though many flatterers — 
 after he had attained the pinnacle of his prodigious fortune, and 
 many hated him with a deadly and dangerous hatred. Yet he 
 was perfectly careless of their enmity,and defied them with a laugh- 
 ing grace or with imperturbable insolence. As King's favourite, 
 
vi THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 the great offices of State were often in his hands, and frank in 
 his friendship and with a simple candour of offence, he made and 
 unmade many men who ruled or misruled England. He was a 
 great adventurer, and played always, or nearly always, for his 
 own hand, having, to tell the truth, few scruples of conscience to 
 stand in the way of self-advancement or personal pique and 
 pleasure. Yet he had a sincere sense of patriotism, identifying 
 himself closely with the interests of his country. And there was 
 nothing mean in his character, however black one's verdict may 
 paint him. Not even his enemies, who were many and eager to 
 defame him, accused him of pettiness of spirit. His very faults 
 were grandiloquent, and his prodigal generosity, his squandering 
 magnificence of hospitality, his proud patronage, his vast insati- 
 able capacity for wealth (though he was not tainted with the 
 corruption of his time), his utter disregard of prudence in his 
 private and public acts, give him a kind of vainglory. In one 
 way it seems that he has no equal in English or any other 
 history. As King's favourite he held his place in two reigns. 
 That is certainly remarkable. Favourites rise quickly, but owing 
 their advancement to the humours of a monarch their honours 
 tumble about their ears when he is out of temper or tired of a 
 familiar face. The chief favourites of kings have seldom held 
 their favours uncontested. New stars have arisen and the old 
 ones have gone to earth like spent rockets. But the first Duke 
 of Buckingham, who helped to cause the downfall of one great 
 favourite, not merely kept his own position clear and undimmed 
 until the death of the king who had made him, but succeeded to 
 the full favours of that king's son and successor, and, again, held 
 them constantly until his own quick death by the assassin's 
 knife. In mere endurance as King's favourite, Buckingham's 
 career is astonishing, but when one reflects upon the great 
 contrast in the characters of the first James and the first Charles 
 — the one a warm-hearted, weak-willed, buffoon-loving gossip 
 (though not without a certain shrewdness and pedantic wisdom), 
 the other a cold, pure, proud, sensitive man — one is startled by 
 the extraordinary personal magnetism of a favourite who could 
 
FOREWORD vii 
 
 be foremost in the affections of both such masters. It is easy to 
 write him down as a scoundrel. Judged by modern standards 
 it would be difficult to deny the title to him. Yet gentlemen of 
 his own time, and of undenied honour and purity, found many 
 virtues in him even after his death, when it was no longer neces- 
 sary to look carefully for virtues in the hope of favours. The 
 truth is that, like many others among men, he was neither 
 demon nor angel. Indeed, if there was any swing in the moral 
 balance it was on the side of the angel. If we may read Buck- 
 ingham rightly, and it is not easy, he never deliberately set out 
 to do devilish things. He was, no doubt, a complete egoist. 
 Any moral principles he may have had — and we do not quickly 
 find them — were tossed on and off as lightly as his jewelled 
 cloaks, and he took revenge in an open-handed way of a dis- 
 covered enemy. But he had not a black heart, nourishing secret 
 venom and scheming horrid things. Hot-blooded, impetuous, 
 unreflecting, his faults were open to the world, for he had a 
 largeness of spirit and real courage, and, on the other side, one 
 must set his ungrudging generosity to relatives and all who had 
 his friendship, his loyalty to those who had lifted him up, his 
 warmth of affection (though he allowed himself at times the 
 license of his age) to his good wife, and to his children, his 
 splendid patronage of the fine arts, his natural gallantry and 
 elegance and charm by which he did full credit to his fortune. 
 As a character of romance he has hardly an equal in English 
 history of the Stuart times. The adventure in Spain, the French 
 marriage journey, when, in his rash way, he helped to embroil us 
 with France because he dared to presume to the Queen's love, 
 are extraordinary episodes in which he is surrounded with the 
 glamour of romantic adventure. The two great masters of 
 historical romance have not failed to see the drama of his career, 
 and Scott in " The Fortunes of Nigel " (most admirable picture 
 of the reign of King James), Dumas in " The Three Musketeers " 
 and its sequel, have introduced the personality of the man who 
 was the centre of political intrigue and adventure in the Courts 
 of England and France. He was, indeed, the typical adventurer 
 
viii THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 of a time when it was the recognized profession to be an 
 adventurer for king's favours, and to those whose imagination is 
 stirred by the magnificence and pageantry, the scheming, the 
 plotting, the turbulence, the perils, the drama and the great 
 actors of a period which stands midway between mediaevalism 
 and modernity, the career of George Villiers should have an 
 extraordinary interest and attraction. That, at least, has been my 
 experience in writing this book, though the reading of it may 
 excite other feelings. In spite of the labour of digging out 
 Buckingham's character and career from old chronicles and 
 memoirs in the death-vault atmosphere of the British Museum, 
 it has been quite a gay task, for the personality of the man grips 
 one, and his ghost is very gallant. If my bopk is dull, it is a 
 grievous sin and not Buckingham's fault ; at least, I may claim 
 that it is not a second-hand account of him, for I have gone 
 always to the original authorities for my facts, though not 
 ignoring Gardiner's vast knowledge of the Stuart period. I may 
 also claim that this book is the only complete life of Villiers 
 written since the discovery of many letters and documents which 
 give the key to the great favourite's character and adventures. 
 I hope that with this key I have not quite failed to unlock the 
 heart of " Dogge Steenie," His Grace of Buckingham. 
 
 P. G. 
 
 Royal Societies Club, 
 
 St. James's St., S.W. 
 November, igoj 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 THE FAMILY OF THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM . . . Frontispiece 
 
 From the Painting by Gerard Honthorst in the National Portrait Gallery 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 ROBERT CARR, EARL OF SOMERSET 20 
 
 From the Painting attributed to John Hoskins in the National Portrait 
 Gallery. 
 
 LADY ESSEX, AFTERWARDS COUNTESS OF SOMERSET .... 42 
 After the Original by C. Holl 
 
 KING JAMES I ... 62 
 
 After the Portrait by G. P. Harding 
 
 QUEEN ANNE, CONSORT OF JAMES 1 78 
 
 From the Painting by Paul van Somer in the National Portrait Gallery 
 
 FRANCIS BACON, LORD VERULAM 104 
 
 After the Painting in Gray's Inn Hall 
 
 COUNT GONDOMAR . . 128 
 
 After the Portrait by G. P. Harding 
 
 JAMES HAY, EARL OF CARLISLE 146 
 
 After the Portrait by Vandyck 
 
 THE INFANTA MARIA 154 
 
 From the Painting by Velazquez in the Prado, Madrid 
 (From a Photograph by Mr. F. Hanfstaengl) 
 
 OLIVARES, PRIME MINISTER OF SPAIN 166 
 
 From the Painting by Velazquez in the Hermitage, St. Petersburg 
 (From a Photograph by Mr. F. Hanfstaengl) 
 
 KING PHfEIP IV. OF SPAIN 190 
 
 From the Painting by Velazquez in the Prado, Madrid 
 (From a Photograph by Mr. F. Hanfstaengl) 
 
 CARDINAL RICHELIEU 208 
 
 From a Portrait by Philippe de Champaigne in the Louvre 
 (From a Photograph by Messrs. Neurdein frires) 
 
 xi 
 
xii THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 KING CHARLES I. IN THREE POSITIONS 2 22 
 
 After the Painting by Vandyck at Windsor 
 
 ANNE OF AUSTRIA, CONSORT OF LOUIS XIII. . • . . 228 
 
 From a Miniature at South Kensington Museum 
 
 HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE, QUEEN OF ENGLAND . . . 250 
 
 From a Portrait by Vandyck 
 [From a Photograph by Messrs. W. A. Mansell 6° Co. ) 
 
 GEORGE DIGBY, EARL OF BRISTOL 266 
 
 After a Portrait by Vandyck 
 
 WILLIAM HERBERT, EARL OF PEMBROKE 280 
 
 After a Portrait by Vandyck 
 
 KING CHARLES I. AND QUEEN HENRIETTA MARIA .... 294 
 After a Painting by Vandyck 
 
 HENRY RICH, EARL OF HOLLAND ... . 334 
 
 After a Portrait by Vandyck 
 
 SIR EDWARD COKE 358 
 
 After a Portrait by Cornelius Janssen van Ceulen 
 
LIST OF AUTHORITIES 
 
 THE following works have provided the contemporary evidence 
 for this life of the first Duke of Buckingham : — 
 
 "The Secret History of the Court of James," by Osborn, Weldon, 
 Heylin, and Peyton. 
 
 " The Prince's Cabala." 
 
 " The Detection of England," by Roger Coke. 
 
 Rushworth's Historical Collections. 
 
 Contemporary Letters contained in "The Court and Times of James I.," 
 and "The Court and Times of Charles I." 
 
 Bishop Goodman's Memoirs. 
 
 Hacket's " Life of the Lord Keeper Williams." 
 
 Howell's " Familiar Letters.'' 
 
 Sir Henry Ellis's " Original Letters." 
 
 Sir Henry Wotton's " Reliquiae Wottonianae," and " Parallel between 
 the Earl of Essex and the Duke of Buckingham." 
 
 Letters of the Duke and Duchess of Buckingham, chiefly addressed to 
 King James I. 
 
 Bassompierre's Diary of his Mission to England. 
 
 Brian Fairfax's Catalogue of Pictures of George Villiers, Duke of 
 Buckingham. 
 
 The Hardwicke State Papers. 
 
 The Domestic State Papers. 
 
 Dr. Eglisham's " Forerunner of Revenge." 
 
 Songs and Poems relating to the Duke of Buckingham. Collected by 
 the Percy Society. 
 
 A True relation and Journal of the Prince's arrival and magnificent 
 entertainment, given to the High and Mighty Prince Charles, Prince of 
 Great Britain, by the King of Spain in his Court at Madrid (London, 1623.) 
 
 Lord Clarendon's " History of the Rebellion." 
 
 xiii 
 
2 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 of Clarendon says in his stately way, "whose nature and 
 disposition was very flowing in affection towards persons so 
 adorned" — we can hardly tell. Sir Henry Wotton, whom we 
 know to have been one of Buckingham's best friends, says that 
 it was at Apthorpe in a Progress, or masque, that James first 
 took a liking for his person. But it was at Cambridge, when 
 the play Ignoramus was performed before the King's Majesty 
 by the students of the University, that it became noticeable, 
 among those who were quick to watch the direction of their 
 master's eyes, that this George Villiers was distinguished by 
 the King's favourable glances. Jt was probably then that he 
 obtained his introduction to James, put forward by courtiers, 
 so jealous of the reigning favourite, the Earl of Somerset, whose 
 gloomy arrogance was now unendurable, that they were scheming 
 constantly to set up some new star, their own man, whose power 
 and influence would be used in their favour. 
 
 They were willing to lay out some little money on him, as a 
 promising speculation — Sir Thomas Lake, we are told, afterwards 
 bought the Cup-bearer's office for him — and changed that rusty 
 black suit, "broken out in places," for a dress that showed up 
 his face and figure to better advantage, and gave him a more 
 easy entry to a Court where dress was magnificent. These 
 schemers against Somerset may have well seen that this young 
 man was marked out by destiny to be a favourite. There are 
 many witnesses to his winning and affable manners, and sweet- 
 ness of disposition, in these early days, and if they raised him 
 from fifty pounds a year to the higher wages of King's favourite, 
 they might count upon him as their servant. He would be 
 their decoy duck for rich game. The Herberts, the Seymours, 
 the Russells, and other noble families of English stock, hated 
 Somerset not less because he had been Robert Kerr, one of 
 those Scotsmen who crowded round the King greedy for office 
 and gold (to the detriment of the English, who also had 
 appetites), and they favoured Villiers as the new man, partly 
 because he was an Englishman and of good birth.* Con- 
 temporary gossip says that William, Earl of Pembroke, the 
 greatest gentleman at the Court of James, and Lucy, Countess 
 of Bedford, supplied him with money, and ran him as the 
 favourite. But Clarendon and Wotton, whose evidence is quite 
 
 • Lloyd. 
 
VILLIERS COMES TO COURT 3 
 
 trustworthy, lay stress on the personal qualifications of George 
 Villiers as the origin of his good fortune. 
 
 "The Duke," says Clarendon, our English Plutarch, "was 
 indeed a very extraordinary person ; and never any man in 
 any age, nor I believe in any country or nation, rose in so short 
 a time to so much greatness of honour, fame, and fortune, upon 
 no other advantage of recommendation than of the beauty and 
 gracefulness and becomingness of his person. And I have not 
 the least purpose of undervaluing his good parts and qualities 
 (of which there will be occasion shortly to give testimony) 
 when I say that his first introduction into favour was purely from 
 the handsomeness of his person." 
 
 There must have been many meetings between the King and 
 Villiers before he was taken into service and recognized as the 
 favourite, though some contemporary writers would almost cause 
 us to imagine that the King loved him at first sight. But in the 
 " Aulicus Coquinariae," that strange collection of Court scandals 
 and anecdotes, we see something of the intrigues and schemings 
 of the enemies of Somerset to set up this new star. At a supper 
 party at Baynard's Castle, we are told, at which were present 
 the Earl of Pembroke and his brother Montgomery, the 
 Seymours, and other great nobles, they solemnly considered 
 whether this young man Villiers who had taken the King's fancy 
 should be supported as a rival candidate. The guests on 
 separating and passing from one of the great houses in the 
 Strand through Fleet Street (they must have looked on one house 
 still existing, once the palace of Prince Henry, the eldest son 
 of James, and now a barber's shop), happened to notice a painter's 
 stall where a picture of Somerset was put up for sale. One of 
 them, as a sign of scorn for that Earl against whom they were 
 plotting, ordered his servant to throw some mud on his face. 
 The order was obeyed promptly — to some men it is a merry 
 thing to cast mud — but the story does not tell us whether the 
 painter or the dealer was paid. Probably not, we may imagine. 
 
 Insult was answered by insult. The news that a new 
 favourite was at hand could not be long kept from the ears 
 of the man most concerned and from those who would go down 
 with him if he fell. " This was quickly discovered," says Sir 
 Henry Wotton, " by him who was then, as yet, in some posses- 
 sion of the King's heart. For there is nothing more vigilant, 
 
4 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 nothing more jealous than a Favourite, especially towards the 
 Waning time and suspicions of Satiety." 
 
 Somerset had his servants. One of them, perhaps after hear- 
 ing of the mud slung at his master's portrait, took a more 
 effective revenge. As Villiers sat at the Royal table the fellow 
 with evident insolence spilt a dish of soup over the Court dress 
 of the young gallant. 
 
 We get our first glimpse of the spirit of George Villiers. 
 He was always quick-tempered, and never thought twice when 
 an insult was offered him. He sprang up and clouted the man 
 over the ear. It was not a prudent act. By that blow struck 
 in the presence of the King's Majesty George Villiers had, by 
 law, forfeited his own right hand. And Somerset, as Lord 
 Chamberlain, had his enemy in his grip, for by his office he was 
 (according to the statute 33 Henry VIII. c. 12) called upon 
 "to be ready at the place and time of execution as shall be 
 appointed, as is aforesaid, to sear the stump when the hand is 
 stricken off." There is something Gilbertian in the idea, looking 
 back on it. But then it was grim enough. Somerset must 
 have licked his lips when he saw, or heard of, his rival's treason- 
 able»offence. Like Shylock, he would demand the flesh. But 
 James ruled otherwise, and upheld the justice of the blow» 
 though it had passed in his presence, and gave signal proof of 
 his affection for the younger man. 
 
 Villiers, men said, and whispered it about, had obtained " a 
 clear conquest " over the Scot. 
 
 There were other ways of ridding one of a rival. In Alsatia 
 there was many a Captain Colepepper ready, at a price, to steal 
 after any gallant in the dark and, between one end of an alley 
 and the other, to stick a poniard in his back. Somerset was 
 rich enough to pay for such service, and one Kerr, an illegiti- 
 mate kinsman of the Lord Chamberlain, was, it is said, ready 
 for the job. But he blabbed about it in his cups to some one at 
 the Court, who carried the news to those who had put their 
 money on the new man. The would-be assassin was hauled 
 up to justice, and though he saved his neck by stubborn denial — 
 perhaps, after all, the poor wretch was only guilty of Somerset's 
 name — was committed to the King's dungeons. 
 
 So George Villiers did not get his footing at the Court without 
 some peril. Probably he did not sleep the worse for it. His 
 
VILLIERS COMES TO COURT 5 
 
 upbringing had fitted him for a life of adventure, and young as 
 he was, he was ready to face cold steel and swaggering cut- 
 throats with a sense of gaiety and steady nerves, confident of 
 his own quick wits and of his skill with rapier and poniard. It 
 is chiefly to Sir Henry Wotton that we must look for the all 
 too scanty details of Villiers's early life. 
 
 He came from Leicestershire, born at Brooksby, in that 
 county, on the 28th of August, 1592, "where," says Sir Henry, 
 " his ancestors had continued about the space of four hundred 
 years, rather without obscurity than with any great lustre, after 
 they had long been seated in Kinalton in the county of 
 Nottingham." Says Clarendon, " A family of an ancient extrac- 
 tion, even from the time of the Conquest, and transported there 
 with the Conqueror out of Normandy, where the family hath 
 still remained and still continues with lustre." 
 
 He was the third son of Sir George Villiers, Knight, by 
 Mary Beaumont, a second wife. Court tittle-tattlers and histori- 
 cal scavengers made out afterwards, when Villiers was the great 
 and powerful Buckingham, that he was of mean birth, and that 
 his mother was a serving-woman. Roger Coke was told by 
 his aunt, who was connected by marriage with the Villiers 
 family, that she was a kitchen-maid in old Sir George Villiers's 
 establishment, and that, becoming enamoured of her pretty face, 
 he persuaded his lady to place her about her person as a waiting- 
 maid. Then, after the death of his wife, he gave Mary Beau- 
 mont twenty pounds to improve her dress, and found her so 
 fine in it that he made her his own by a speedy marriage.* 
 
 Arthur Wilson gives a somewhat different tale, which is 
 probably closer to the truth. " The old knight," says he, " was 
 visiting his kinswoman, Lady Beaumont, at Colehorton in 
 Leicestershire, and found there a young gentlewoman of that 
 name, allied, and yet a servant of the family," who seemed to 
 him a worthy creature to succeed to the place of his first lady, 
 wherefore he married her. 
 
 By his first wife Sir George had had three sons and " some 
 daughters," who shared an ample inheritance from him. By 
 his second wife, Mary Beaumont, he had John, Christopher, 
 and George, and a daughter, Susan. The old knight died in 
 1606, behaving rather scurvily, it seems, to his second wife and 
 * Coke's " Detection of the Court of England." 
 
6 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 family, leaving the widow with only two hundred a year. But 
 she was a business woman, and wanting to do well by her 
 offspring, married twice again, first with Sir William Rayner, of 
 whom history is silent, and second with Sir Thomas Compton, 
 who, according to Roger Coke, was a rich farmer, and made up 
 the wife's deficiency of fortune. 
 
 This Thomas Compton seems to have been a kind of Toby 
 Belch, a man who found his good pleasure in pots of sack and 
 clouds of Virginian tobacco, and of a somewhat timorous dis- 
 position, though swaggering in his cups. We see something of 
 him later when Lady Compton was the Countess of Bucking- 
 ham, in her own right, and when his stepson was the finest 
 gentleman in the kingdom. This country knight, with his 
 rustic speech and manners, was singularly out of place in the 
 Court. In a letter from the Countess to her great son, when he 
 was away on the Spanish journey, she tells how Sir Thomas 
 presented himself to the King, but was " so strange in his head," 
 owing, she thought, to wine and tobacco, that he had to be sent 
 home under care. Wilson tells a merry anecdote of him which 
 is characteristic of the man and his time. At his home in 
 Leicestershire there was a neighbour named Bird, a roaring 
 captain, and one of those swaggering, swashbuckling rascals 
 whom Shakespeare knew to the marrow-bones. This Pistol 
 was the plague of the rustic knight, and over strong sack said 
 poor things of the squire's courage, taunting him for his mean 
 spirit, and bragging of his own valour and skill with the sword- 
 hand. Sir Thomas suffered this until for very shame he was 
 bound to justify his knighthood. Perhaps his stepsons, John 
 and Christopher and George, egged the old man on to take 
 revenge of his tormentor. Be that as it may, the story tells that 
 Sir Thomas's friends so wrought on his peaceful nature (putting 
 to him that death was to be preferred to such persecution) 
 that he was prevailed on to send Bird a challenge. The bully 
 thought he had all his own way, and having the choice of place 
 and weapons, as well as a braggart sense of humour, chose 
 swords and a saw-pit, explaining that his selection was made 
 to prevent Sir Thomas running away. In the saw-pit, accord- 
 ingly, the duel took place. Bird, hugely merry with himself, 
 brandished his sword and jeered at the little knight, who was 
 quaking in his shoes, not being by nature valorous. But he 
 
VILLIERS COMES TO COURT 7 
 
 saw his chance to escape a hasty death, and perceiving his 
 enemy's weapon in the air, ran under it, and passing his blade 
 through the bully's body, killed him on the spot. There is 
 some comedy in the scene, although it ends with death. 
 
 This, then, was George's early environment — a country life, 
 with a rustic-mannered stepfather, a lady mother, brothers and 
 half-brothers to play and quarrel with, country sports and 
 pleasures to give him health and a sturdy spirit. 
 
 "He was nurtured," writes Sir Henry Wotton, afterwards 
 his good friend and faithful servant, " where he had been born, 
 in his first rudiments till the years of ten, and from thence sent 
 to Billisden school in the same county, where he was taught 
 the principles of musick and other elegant literature, till the 
 thirteenth of his age, when his father died. Then his beautiful 
 and provident mother, for those attributes will not be denied 
 her, took him home to her house at Goodby, where she had 
 him in special care, so as he was first, as we may say, domestick 
 favourite. . . . But finding him, as it should seem, by Nature, 
 little studious and contemplative, she chose rather to endue 
 him with conservative qualities and ornaments of youth, as 
 dancing, fencing, and the like, not without perchance, even then, 
 though far off, as a courtier's life, in which lessons he had then 
 such a dexterous proclivity as his teachers were fain to restrain 
 his forwardness, to the end that his brothers, who were under 
 the same training, might hold pace with him." 
 
 These last sentences of the poet-ambassador were no doubt 
 rather flattering to the truth. But it is certain that though 
 Villiers was, on his own confession and by all accounts, and 
 especially by the evidence of his numerous and illiterate letters, 
 no scholar, he had a good leg, and, as Bishop Goodman said, 
 "a well-compacted body." Clarendon, witnessing also to the 
 " singular care and affection of his mother," says that he was 
 by her sent into France, "where he spent two or three years in 
 attaining the language, and in learning the exercises of riding 
 and dancing ; in the last of which he excelled most men, and 
 returned into England by the time he was twenty-one years old." 
 
 It would be interesting to know something of the adventures 
 of George Villiers during this first visit to France. But guess- 
 work is all we may have. He was probably in Paris when 
 Henri IV. was assassinated by Ravaillac, and when the people 
 
8 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 in their fury exacted the most horrible] course of torture that 
 has perhaps ever been inflicted on quivering human flesh. He 
 was certainly there when the boy-king Louis XIII. sat meekly 
 on his throne under the eyes of his great mother Marie de 
 Medici, and was betrothed to the daughter of Spain, Anne of 
 Austria, who in later years was to endanger her reputation as 
 a queen and a woman with that first Duke of Buckingham, who 
 was now plain George Villiers, though a handsome boy, in 
 Paris. There were many adventures to be had under the gables 
 of old Paris, adventures of love and gallantry, duelling and 
 ambuscades, political plots, and secret intrigues. Our imagina- 
 tion needs no kindling if we have read " The Three Musketeers," 
 that immortal romance, which is not a text-book of history, but 
 gives one a closer knowledge of the spirit of this period than 
 all the text-books. Young Villiers must have met many a 
 D'Artagnan in the wine-shops under the shadow of Notre 
 Dame. He must have watched the swaggering musketeers as 
 they waited to escort the carriage of Madam Mother from the 
 palace of the Louvre. Perhaps beinglyoung, and George Villiers, 
 he may have drunk the wine of enchantment with Miladi, the 
 woman with the brand of the Fleur-de-lys, and some others. 
 
 Then at the witching age of twenty-one he came home again, 
 not too Frenchified, we learn, but " in his natural Plight, without 
 affected Forms, the ordinary disease of Travellers." * He was, 
 in modern slang, at a loose end, haunting races, a shabby-genteel 
 young gentleman, wondering by what means he could gain 
 advancement and employment. Then, as we have seen, his 
 shining face caught the King's eyes, and in a little while he was 
 plunged into the vortex of Court intrigues. 
 
 The Court of James had not that glory and great glamour 
 which belonged to the Court of Elizabeth. At Elizabeth's 
 death, and even before, the sun had lowered its rays which had 
 shone with such splendour over England. We are, of course, 
 apt to look back upon the reign of Elizabeth through a soul of 
 poetic haze. We forget there were many black hearts among 
 those who ruled England or plundered the people. We forget 
 — some of us — that the rack and the Smithfield fires claimed 
 many victims ; that beneath the glitter of the Court there was 
 much that was mean and cruel and squalid, and even vulgar. 
 
 * Wotton. 
 
VILLIERS COMES TO COURT 9 
 
 But, in spite of that, England had awakened to a new youth- 
 fulness, lusty, and full of fresh enthusiasm, in the earlier years 
 of the Queen. The influence of the Renaissance, that pouring 
 in of new ideas and of a new sense of beauty, still put a spell over 
 the intellect of the English gentle classes and roused them from 
 sluggard ignorance. The revealing of the New World, the 
 voyages of English seamen, and their homecoming with strange 
 eventful tales of far lands and mysterious seas, quickened the 
 imagination of the English people from the noble to the peasant 
 classes, and gave them dreams of illimitable wealth, and the 
 promise at least of good adventure for the blood. The spirit of 
 English seamanship, long dormant, had awakened with the 
 Drakes, and Frobishers, and Gilberts, and Grenvils, and Careys, 
 and many more families of the West. Elizabeth with all her 
 frailties had some sense of patriotism, and at her Council Board 
 there were men of dignity and worth, and to her Court came 
 men who were not merely courtiers — Sidney and Spenser and 
 Sackville, those noble poets ; the petulant but dare-devil Essex ; 
 Raleigh, in whose brain was born the dream of Empire, and 
 who ventured his fortune and his life on it. Drayton, Marlowe, 
 and Shakespeare, gave a golden age to English drama. The 
 great peril with Spain threatening the Crown and liberty of 
 the nation, called forth all its national spirit and hardihood, 
 and the great victory over the Armada, with the piratical 
 exploits of Francis Drake, was an English Iliad. The Court of 
 Elizabeth was the centre and fountain-head of a new chivalry 
 and splendour of English life, lifting up the people with a great 
 sense of patriotism and pride. In the waning years of the great 
 Queen, and with the coming of the Stuart James, the fresh- 
 ness and national enthusiasm of the kingdom declined. High 
 hopes and great dreams were dashed. Raleigh's vision of 
 Empire had been fulfilled only by repeated failure, and his out- 
 posts in the New World had been massacred by Indians, or 
 driven home by the hardships of nature and fierce quarrellings 
 among themselves, bringing back none of that great wealth 
 which had been promised ; and Raleigh himself, one of the few 
 great Englishmen left out of a noble band, gnawed his heart out 
 in the Tower prison, a living symbol of frustrated hope. The 
 new King, who had been welcomed with waiting expectations 
 by Puritans, who believed that his Calvinistic upbringing would 
 
10 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 give them liberty of faith, and by the Catholics, who believed 
 that their allegiance and service to his mother, Mary, would be 
 repaid by Royal favour, disappointed both parties in the State. 
 Though he took some of the great Catholic nobles into his 
 service, thereby offending the Puritans, he enforced the penal 
 laws against their worship with utmost severity. And to the 
 Puritans he showed nothing but ill will, protesting that both he 
 and his mother had been plagued with Calvin devils since their 
 birth. He demanded conformity to the State-made Church, of 
 which he was sovereign pontiff, thereby causing a great uneasiness 
 and rebellious spirit in a nation of nonconformists. His reign 
 began with the making and discovery and punishment of plots — 
 the Main, the Rye, and the Gunpowder — and there were fires and 
 scaffolds in Smithfield. The Court no longer stood as the 
 mirror and glory of the national life. The King was a foreigner, 
 and hedged himself round with strangers of uncouth tongues 
 and insatiable greed. London was infested with swarms of 
 Scotsmen, who followed the Stuart like locusts, elbowing out 
 Englishmen, who believed they had higher claims to favour and 
 plunder. "The truth is," says Bishop Goodman, with the 
 venom reflecting the hatred of the English people for a nation 
 with which they had been at war for centuries, "that the 
 wonderful waste at Court did draw on a number of Hang-bies, 
 whole families of poor people, especially Scots. This made the 
 Courtiers in fear of infectious and dangerous diseases. They 
 were nasty for want of clean linen. There was much stealing, 
 filching and robbery, and it was not safe for men to walk in the 
 night." 
 
 The King himself was guilty of the worst crimes (so many 
 thought) possible to an English monarch. With his theory of 
 " the Divine Right of Kings/' he ignored the principles of liberty 
 gained through centuries of strife by Parliament and people ; 
 and, what was horribly worse, he was believed to be a coward, 
 and known to be ridiculous. His ungainly figure, with weak 
 knees, his stuttering Scots speech, his nervousness at the sight 
 of cold steel, his lolling, slobbering manners with the handsome 
 rakes whom he chose as his favourites, his pedantry and peda- 
 gogical jargon, robbed him of that respect which Englishmen 
 expected to be able to give to their sovereign lord. It was no 
 wonder that there were murmurings and gloomy prophecies, 
 
VILLIERS COMES TO COURT 11 
 
 and that to many Puritan citizens, and even to old English 
 families of Protestant and Catholic faith who remembered the 
 great days of Elizabeth, it seemed that a dry-rot had taken 
 possession of the nation, and that England was going to its 
 downfall. Francis Osborne, Pembroke's man, has recorded 
 with bitter eloquence the degradation of the time and the 
 oppression of his Court. 
 
 " Now by this time," he says, " the nation grew feeble and 
 over-opprest with impositions, monopolies, aydes, privy-seales, 
 concealments, pretermitted customes, etc., besides all forfeitures 
 upon penal statutes, with a multitude of tricks more to cheat 
 the English subject (the most, if not all, unheard of in Queene 
 Elizabeth's dayes), which was spent upon the Scots : By whom 
 nothing was unasked, and to whom nothing was denied ; who . 
 for want of honester traffique did extract gold out of the faults of 
 the English, whose pardons they beg'd and sold at intolerable 
 rates, murder itself not being exempted. Nay I dare boldly 
 say one man might with more safety have killed another than a 
 raskall-deare ; but if a stagge had been known to have miscarried 
 and the authour fled, a proclamation with a description of the 
 party had been presently penned by the attorney-general, and 
 the penalty of his majestie's high displeasure (by which was 
 understoode the Star-chamber) threatened against all that did 
 abet, comfort, or relieve him." 
 
 Yet there was some exaggeration in all this. It is true that 
 among the new men in high places there were many of little 
 virtue, and that the Council Board of the King had not the 
 dignity of Elizabeth's ministry ; and it is true also that the 
 chivalry and poetry of the Elizabethan age were passing. But 
 looking round upon the figures of those who surrounded the 
 King when Villiers came to Court and took the highest place 
 among them within a little while, it must be acknowledged that 
 there were some great characters who, having added to the 
 splendour of Elizabeth's reign, still gave some glory to that of 
 James. Shakespeare was still living quietly at Stratford-on- 
 Avon, with only occasional visits to London, and his great 
 dramas were not forgotten or neglected. Ben Jonson was in 
 the full lustre of his genius, and his masques were written for 
 "the rood pleasure and glory of James." Poetry was not 
 extinguished, and Sir Henry Wotton, Villiers's friend and our 
 
12 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 ambassador at Venice, was only one of many high minds who 
 continued the traditions of English poetry bequeathed by that 
 little cluster of singers round the Virgin Queen. 
 
 When Villiers came to Court, Francis Bacon was Attorney- 
 General, and though his high intellect stooped to the servility of 
 the courtier, and was used for the intrigues of ambition, not 
 nobly (as in Elizabeth's reign he had exalted and debased him- 
 self by the zeal with which he prosecuted his friend and patron 
 Essex), yet this greatest of English philosophers, who took all 
 knowledge for his province, and opened up new fields and new 
 worlds of truth, gave by his genius a glory to the Court of 
 James, in which were so many petty men. As we shall see 
 later, he was quick to secure the favour of George Villiers, and 
 owed advancement to that man who in intellect was not worthy 
 to lace his shoes, yet whose moral character, in spite of many 
 weaknesses, had a nobler quality of courage and honesty than 
 that of the author of " The Advancement of Learning." 
 
 Among the nobler men with whom George Villiers found 
 himself at Court was one who will always shine in history — 
 that William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, who is believed by 
 many (though not with real evidence) to have been the great 
 patron of Shakespeare, and the "W. H." of Shakespeare's 
 sonnets. The head of the noble family of Herbert, who gave 
 many illustrious men and women to England, he was, in the 
 reign of James, the worthiest representative of the English 
 nobility. He was the son of that beautiful mother and witty 
 gracious woman immortalized in Ben Jonson's epitaph on her 
 tomb — if it is Ben Jonson's — 
 
 " Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother, 
 Time, ere thou hast slain another 
 Wise and fair and good as she, 
 Death shall throw a dart at thee." 
 
 Philip, the poet, dedicated his " Arcadia " to this sister, who 
 best loved him and understood him most ; and as a patroness of 
 men of learning, she lived a full and gracious life, dying in an 
 advanced age at her home in Aldersgate Street in 1621, seven 
 years after Villiers came to Court. William, Earl of Pembroke, 
 her son, inherited some of her noble qualities, though he was 
 not exempt from one vice of his age, and loved women not 
 wisely but too well. "In person," says Anthony Wood, "he 
 
VILLIERS COMES TO COURT 13 
 
 was rather majestic than elegant, and his presence, whether 
 quiet or in motion, was full of stately gravity." In character 
 he was of a large generous soul, loving poetry and pictures, and 
 the elegance of life, becoming a patron like his mother to men 
 of wit and good taste and genius. Though he took his place 
 at the Court and the Council Board, he stood above and aloof 
 from the crowd of Court panderers and flatterers. Though 
 Elizabeth was charmed by him, in his youthfulness he had 
 shocked his friends by the coldness and carelessness with which 
 he received her favours ; and when the Stuart came to the 
 throne, he gave him his loyalty and service, but retained his 
 own self-respect and noble independence. Believing still in the 
 ideals of the last reign, he had no love for the drawing near to 
 Spain which was the new policy ; and when King James 
 discussed the Spanish match between his heir, then Prince 
 Henry, who still lived, and the Infanta, Pembroke, as we learn 
 from Wood, opposed it with such violence that James shrank 
 back with actual terror. But, to give James his due, he knew a 
 man of honour, and respected truth, though he had a weakness 
 for flatterers. As Clarendon says, he rather esteemed Pem- 
 broke than loved him. Clarendon's portrait of this great 
 gentleman is a noble cameo. He calls him the most universally 
 loved and esteemed of any man of that age. 
 
 "Having a great office in the Court, he made the Court 
 better esteemed, and more reverenced in the country. And 
 as he had a great number of friends of the best men, so no man 
 had ever the wickedness to avow himself to be his enemy. He 
 was a man very well bred, and of excellent parts, and a 
 graceful speaker upon any subject, having a good proportion 
 of learning, and a ready wit to apply it and enlarge upon it ; 
 of a pleasant and facetious humour, and a disposition affable, 
 generous, and magnificent. ... As he spent and lived upon his 
 own fortune, so he stood upon his own feet, without any other 
 support than of his proper virtue and merit ; and lived towards 
 his favourites with that decency as would not suffer them to 
 censure or reproach his master's judgment or election but as 
 with men of his own rank. . . . He was a great lover of his 
 country, and of that religion and justice, which he believed 
 could only support it ; and his friendships were only with men 
 of those principles. And as his conversation was most with 
 
14 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 men of the most pregnant parts and understanding, so towards 
 any who needed support or encouragement, though unknown, 
 if fairly recommended to him he was very liberal. And sure 
 never man was planted in a Court that was fitter for that soil, 
 or brought better qualities with him to purify that air." 
 
 It says something for the character and the early promise 
 of young George Villiers that the Earl of Pembroke should 
 have given him his approval and patronage at the outset. 
 
 It is curious, though not really unusual, to find such a contrast 
 in character between two brothers as shown by William, Earl of 
 Pembroke, and Philip, Earl of Montgomery. Montgomery, 
 who was afterwards a close associate of George Villiers, had 
 none of the noble refinement of his brother. All contemporary 
 references show him to have been a loud-mouthed bully and 
 braggart. He won the King's heart by his handsome presence, 
 which, says Osborne, "kept him not long company," and by 
 his hunting skill and love of horses and dogs. When James 
 first came to the English throne Philip Herbert had the reputa- 
 tion of being the favourite, and although Robert Kerr ousted 
 him, he never lost the King's favour, holding his place as 
 Gentleman of the Bedchamber. From the time when at 
 Elizabeth's Court he astonished all by his "forwardness," he 
 swaggered and bullied among his fellows with extraordinary 
 impudence. With the manners of a groom, and the language 
 of the stable, he had an uncontrollable temper, even in his 
 middle age. Winwood, the Secretary of State, told an anecdote 
 of a quarrel between Montgomery and the Earl of Southampton 
 at a tennis match when the rackets went flying about each 
 other's ears. It was only the King's presence and influence 
 that prevented bloodshed. In the next reign, when Charles 
 made him Lord Chamberlain, he broke his staff of office over 
 the shoulders of a peer who had accidentally pushed him during 
 a masque at the banqueting-house at Whitehall, and if it had 
 not been for the Earl's office, and the place they were in, " it 
 might have been a question," says Anthony Wood, whether 
 " the Earl would ever have struck again." 
 
 Like most bullies, Montgomery was at heart a coward. 
 Osborne tells a story, corroborated by others, of a scene on a 
 racecourse at Croydon, where there was a great crowd of 
 English and Scots. Montgomery, affronting the Scots, Ramsey, 
 
VILLIERS COMES TO COURT 15 
 
 one of them, switched him on the face. "But Herbert" (not 
 then Earl of Montgomery) " not offering to strike again, nothing 
 was spoilt but the reputation of a gentleman." 
 
 His marriage with Lady Susan Vere, daughter of the Earl 
 of Oxford, was celebrated with great splendour at Whitehall 
 in 1604. In a letter from Sir Dudley Carleton to Secretary 
 Winwood, we'learn that " the bride and bride-groom were lodged 
 in the Council Chambers, where the King in his shirt and night- 
 gown gave them a reveille matin before they were up. No 
 ceremony was omitted of bride-cakes, points, garters, and gloves, 
 which have been ever since the livery of the Court; and at 
 night there was sewing into the sheet, casting off the bride's 
 left hose, and many other pretty sorceries." We shall meet 
 Montgomery later, on Buckingham's business, and learn more 
 of a bully courtier who, owing his title to King's favours, 
 abandoned his master in the hour of peril. Among other 
 things about him, we learn from Bishop Goodman that he was 
 supplied with money by his nobler brother. 
 
 There were other Herberts who were outstanding figures 
 of the time. Edward, Lord Herbert of Cherbury, that Don 
 Quixote of the Stuart reign, a chivalrous, valorous, and scholarly 
 gentleman, whose sword was rather too soon out of its sheath 
 when his temper was roused, which was often, but who fought 
 according to the rules of the game and always with a nice 
 sense of honour, and according to his old-fashioned ideals of 
 knighthood. He would risk his life a dozen times to defend 
 a damsel's ribbon worn as a love-knot, or to prove some point 
 of punctilio, or to avenge some slight upon a lady's honour, 
 or upon his nation or king, or upon his own courage, which 
 was really undoubted. He was a Welshman of the temper 
 of Shakespeare's Fluellyn, rash and choleric, and very "prave." 
 His autobiography, full of brag and quaint conceits, yet written, 
 as he professes, " with all truth and sincerity," is good to read, 
 and gives an admirable insight into the character, not only of 
 the man himself, but of his time. By his adventures, duels, 
 and enterprises in the Low Countries, by his cordial reception 
 from Henri IV. of France, and from his Queen, who placed him 
 publicly next to her chair, " not without the wonder of some 
 and the envy of another who was wont to have that favour," 
 and by the extraordinary and fierce duel with Sir John Ayres 
 
16 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 in Whitehall, when with a broken sword he " wounded him in 
 four places,! and did almost cut off his left hand," made the 
 Lord Herbert of Cherbury of great fame in England and 
 France. When he came to Court it was whispered, indeed, 
 that James's Queen was wonderfully taken with the little 
 Welshman, and this was not without danger both to the Queen 
 and the knight in a Court where there were so many tongues 
 to wag scandal. He was one of those whom George Villiers 
 favoured when he became my Lord of Buckingham, and we 
 shall see more of the doughty gentleman. 
 
 Among his many brothers and sisters there was George 
 Herbert — sweet and pious poet, whose verses still comfort many 
 quiet minds with their beautiful conceits and exquisitely child- 
 like reverence. 
 
 "He was so excellent a scholar," wrote his brother, "that 
 he was made the public orator of the University in Cambridge, 
 some of whose English works are extant, which, though they 
 are rare in their kind, yet are far short of expressing those 
 perfections he had in the Greek and Latin tongue, and all 
 Divine and human literature. His life was most holy and 
 exemplary, in so much that about Salisbury, where he lived 
 beneficed for so many years, he was little less than sainted." 
 
 Henry Herbert, another brother, was a man of distinction. 
 Educated in France, he spoke the language perfectly ; and, then, 
 coming to the English Court, was made Gentleman of the King's 
 Privy Chamber, and Master of the Revels, claiming jurisdiction 
 over all entertainments and the licensing of books. " By which 
 means," says Lord Herbert, "and also by a good marriage 
 he attained to great fortune for himself and posterity to enjoy. 
 He hath also given several proofs of his courage in duels and 
 otherwise, being no less dexterous in the ways of the Court, as 
 having gotten much by it." 
 
 Though the family of the Herberts favoured, and were after- 
 wards favoured by, George Villiers, it was a cousin of the Lord 
 of Cherbury, Sir Edward Herbert, Judge of the High Court, 
 who afterwards managed the impeachment of Buckingham in 
 1626. 
 
 The most learned nobleman at the Court of James was 
 the Catholic Henry Howard, first Earl of Northampton, son 
 of the poet Earl of Surrey who introduced the jewel of great 
 
VILLIERS COMES TO COURT 17 
 
 price to English rhymers, the sonnet of Italy. Northampton, 
 who had corresponded with James when he only had the 
 Scottish throne, advised him to be tolerant to the Catholics 
 if he wished their support in England. But though his faith 
 was ardent, he never allied himself with conspirators when James 
 disappointed Catholic hopes, and he was one of the com- 
 missioners in the trial of Guy Fawkes. He was made Lord 
 Privy Seal in 1608, and at Northumberland House on the 
 Strand, which he built magnificently, he reigned as the leader 
 of the Catholic nobility and party. When Somerset became 
 his kinsman through marriage, he became his close friend, 
 and used him as a tool in intriguing with Spain. It was 
 Northampton's letters to him which were afterwards destroyed 
 by the favourite when his enemies got their grip upon him. 
 But the great nobles of the two kingdoms, apart from those 
 raised by his own favour, were not most close to the person of 
 the King when Villiers came to Court and joined them. James, 
 spite of his real scholarship and his public assumption of 
 majesty, loved the easy familiarity of boon companions, men 
 of gallant looks and youth, who amused him with frolic tricks, 
 and boisterous horse-play, among whom he could forget the 
 cares of State, the malice of political enemies, and the trouble- 
 some dignity of kingship. With them he was more an amiable 
 and easy-going schoolmaster among a crowd of larking boys 
 than a sovereign among subjects, and he loved to lavish gifts 
 on them, to see them bravely dressed, to listen to their quarrel- 
 lings and naughtiness, to reprove them paternally, and to laugh 
 at their impudence. 
 
 "From my memory," wrote Osborne, inveighing against 
 this crowd of courtiers and the wealth poured into their purses 
 by the King, "are the Lords Roxborrow, Fenton, Carlile, and 
 Dunbar, that during the reign of the King lay sucking at the 
 breasts of the State, nor were some of them weaned long after 
 his death." 
 
 The first of those mentioned was Robert Ker, first Earl of 
 Roxburghe, a Scotsman who had been of good service to James 
 before he succeeded to the English crown, and then came with 
 him to London to enjoy the southern sunshine of majesty. He 
 was loyal to the son as well as to the father, and is remembered 
 on the Royalist side as being the man who held open the door 
 c 
 
18 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 of the House of Commons when Charles attempted to arrest 
 the five members. The Fenton put on the black list by 
 Osborne was Thomas Erskine, created Viscount Fenton in 1606, 
 and afterwards Earl of Kelly. He had been educated with the 
 King and was his Gentleman of the Bedchamber in Scotland. 
 He was not loved more by the English people, who hated him 
 as a Scot, because he succeeded Sir Walter Raleigh as Captain 
 of the Guard. 
 
 Sir George Hume, Earl of Dunbar, in this company, was 
 generally acknowledged even by his enemies to be a man of 
 intelligence, ability, and honour. He was Lord High Treasurer 
 in Scotland, and held other high posts. But he does not enter 
 this story, except by this mention in Osborne's memoirs, as he 
 died three years before the advent of George Villiers. 
 
 The fourth man named by Osborne as " Carlile " was James 
 Hay, afterwards Earl of Carlisle, and a close companion of 
 Buckingham's. He was a man not unlike George Villiers him- 
 self, though, it seems, of a lighter temperament, and a butterfly 
 fellow like some Rosencrantz of the English Court. He was 
 one of the King's handsome young men, and his gorgeous dress 
 and prodigal extravagance of hospitality made him notorious. 
 
 Francis Osborne, who as Master of the Horse to the Earl of 
 Pembroke, and a popular author of the period, must have often 
 gone to Carlisle's town house, has left on record that the young 
 nobleman " was the first to bring in the vanity of ante-suppers, 
 not heard of in our forefather's time, and for ought I have read, 
 or at least remembered, unpractised by the most luxurious 
 tyrants. The manner of which was to have the board covered, 
 at the first entrance of the guests, with dishes as high as a tall 
 man could well reach, filled with the choycest and dearest 
 viands sea and land could afford. And all this once seen, and 
 having feasted the eyes of the invited was in a manner thrown 
 away, and fresh set on to the same height, only hot" Even 
 our modern millionaires of the West, in all their mad endeavours 
 for extravagant luxury, have hardly equalled the fantastic waste 
 of this Scottish peer. 
 
 He was not yet Earl of Carlisle when Villiers first became 
 his friend, but as Baron Hay and Master of the Wardrobe, he 
 stood high in the affection of James. In 1617 he married Lucy 
 Percy, daughter of that " stout Earl of Northumberland " who 
 
VILLIERS COMES TO COURT 19 
 
 was imprisoned for his connection with the Gunpowder Plot. 
 She was a beauty and a wit, and the poets of the time laid their 
 verses at her feet, made sonnets to her eyebrows, and praised 
 her charms with graceful flattery. She and her husband made 
 a very handsome couple, and were, as we should say now, 
 Society leaders in London. It is curious that the lady who was 
 the beauty of two Courts, the favourite and confidante of two 
 queens, and the Belle Dame Sans Merci of the Royalist poets 
 Davenant, Carew,| Herrick, Suckling, and Waller, should have 
 become the intimate friend of Pym the Puritan, revealing to 
 him the intended arrest of the five members, and that in the 
 Civil Wars she was the Madame Roland of the Presbyterian 
 republicans. 
 
 There was another courtier close to the heart of James, and 
 a boon companion of James Hay. He, too, like Hay's wifd 
 was treacherous to those who had richly favoured him ; and 
 becoming turncoat twice, he lost his head before he had time 
 to turn again. This was Sir Henry Rich, afterwards made 
 Baron Kensington and first Earl of Holland. In his youth, 
 when, with George Villiers and James Hay, he made one of 
 a handsome triumvirate of favourites, he was a gay and gallant 
 prodigal, not cautious even in the game of being courtier. The 
 King, taken by his bonny face, would deny him nothing, but 
 Rich lost that opportunity, says Osborne, Pembroke's Master 
 of Horse, " which his curious face and complexion afforded him, 
 by turning aside and spitting after the King had slabered his 
 mouth." 
 
 The wantonness of this man was in his blood, and bequeathed 
 by a wanton mother. Penelope Rich was sister of Elizabeth's 
 Earl of Essex, and wife of Robert, Earl of Warwick. But before 
 she became a wife, as a girl of fourteen, she won the passionate 
 affections of Philip Sidney, and after her marriage, which she 
 hated, she encouraged the poet, who praised her charms, and 
 inflamed his passion in those sonnets which were collected 
 afterwards under the name of " Astrophel and Stella." When 
 Sidney died at Zutphen, refusing the famous cup of water, 
 Penelope became mistress of the Lord Mountjoy, afterwards 
 Earl of Devonshire, and married him when Warwick divorced 
 her. She was one of those frail beauties bred in the evil of a 
 Court, leading men to ruin of heart and soul. Fortunately she 
 
20 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 does not concern us here except as the mother of Villiers's 
 friend. 
 
 There were other gentlemen about the King whom we shall 
 meet again as the comrades of George Villiers or as his rivals 
 at the Court — Digby, Earl of Bristol, and Sir Kenelm, his 
 kinsman ; Richard, Earl of Dorset, " a noble gentleman of good 
 parts," says Osborne, "had they not been poisoned, together 
 with his owner, by a future malice and jealousy, in the Duke 
 of Buckingham that he was his enemy ; " Sir Edward Zouche 
 Sir George Goring, and Sir John Finnett, " the chief and master- 
 fools " of the Court ; Sir John Millisent (not without high claims 
 to fine foolery), Sir John Harrington, and Sir John Peyton. 
 These, then, were the King's friends, and those who had hold 
 of his purse-strings. 
 
 But above them, as their master and lord paramount, was 
 the man Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset, who must now come 
 in as the predecessor of George Villiers in the office of King's 
 favourite. 
 
 He was a cadet of the Carrs (or Ker, as it is spelt in Scot- 
 land) of Ferniehurst, a family who had been loyal to the service 
 of Marie Stuart, the King's mother. As a boy he had been a 
 page in the Scottish Court of James, but it was after travels in 
 France that he came to England and attracted the King's eyes, 
 and then by an accident, which caused his fortune. At a tilting 
 match before the King he was the equerry of Lord Hay, hut 
 his horse curvetting, he fell and broke his leg. He was carried 
 swooning to a neighbouring apartment, and James, who, what- 
 ever his faults, had a kind heart, came in person to the bedside 
 of the sufferer to make inquiries. He was struck with much 
 tenderness for young Carr, and after repeated visits during his 
 convalescence, took him into his household, and treated him 
 with fatherly affection. " The Prince," it was observed,* " leaneth 
 on his arm, pinches his cheek, smoothes his ruffled garments. 
 The young man doth much study art and device: he hath 
 changed his tailors and tiremen many times, and all to please 
 the Prince. The King teacheth him Latin every morning, and 
 I think some one should teach him English too; for he is a 
 Scotch lad, and hath much need of better language." 
 
 But James liked this bonny lad none the less because he 
 * " Nugse Antiquse." 
 
ROBERT CARR, EARL OF SOMERSET 
 
 FROM THE PAINTING ATTRIBUTED TO JOHN HOSKINS IN THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY 
 
VILLIERS COMES TO COURT 21 
 
 spoke with the Scots burr. Those who knew him then describe 
 him as " straight-limbed, well-favoured, strong-shouldered, and 
 smoothfaced." Wilson describes him at a later age as " rather 
 well compacted than tall ; his features and favour comely and 
 handsome rather than beautiful ; the hair of his head flaxen, 
 that of his face tinctured with yellow of the Sycambrian colour." 
 
 In 1607 the King gave him the accolade as knight, and two 
 years later the Manor of Sherborne, which had belonged to 
 Walter Raleigh, who, from his prison in the Tower, wrote to 
 Carr, imploring him not to bring his poor wife to penury. In 
 161 1 he was created Viscount Rochester, and the year following 
 became private secretary to the King, having in his hands as 
 first favourite the patronage of the offices of State, which had 
 fallen vacant with Salisbury's death, and were to be filled by 
 Royal favour. In their hearts, Suffolk, Northampton, the 
 Howards, Herberts, Russells, and other great nobles hated the 
 young upstart, yet they stooped to solicit his favour for them- 
 selves and their kinsmen. 
 
 But Rochester, or Somerset, as he became later, and by 
 which title he is now known, had, as some other men in high 
 places, a ghost who prompted him. This was Thomas Over- 
 bury, Bachelor of Arts, of Queen's College, Oxford, and barrister 
 of the Middle Temple, a man of ability in intrigue (having few 
 principles) and a poet and writer of contemporary popularity. 
 Twenty writers, including Ford, gave prefatory verses to his 
 poem, " The Wife," which is still read with pleasure by students 
 of literature, and Ben Jonson (who afterwards broke with him 
 for an attempted intrigue with Lady Rutland, the future mother- 
 in-law of George Villiers) wrote high praise of his elegant taste. 
 Overbury, rising with his friend, whom he had met in Edinburgh, 
 was knighted by the King and made his server (an honourable 
 post); but James never had any affection for him, and the 
 Queen hated him. There is a story told (and well authenticated) 
 of how she committed him to the Tower for a laugh. It does 
 not seem a heinous offence, but Thomas Overbury happened to 
 laugh under her window, as he vowed, at an innocent joke of 
 his companion, and the Queen considered it an insult to her 
 person, which shows that though a cat may laugh at a king, a 
 courtier must not laugh at a queen. Through Carr's influence 
 he was released, and, as private secretary to the private secretary, 
 
22 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 conducted the sales of patronage by which the favourite grew 
 rich, and coached his master through the tortuous paths of his 
 high and dangerous position. 
 
 He did other things. He wrote love-letters for the Scotsman, 
 who, in spite of the King's lessons, was probably not good at 
 penmanship. And this letter-writing led to the death of the 
 scrivener and to the ruin of the man and woman between whom 
 they passed. 
 
 They were written, unfortunately, to the Lady Essex, the 
 young, beautiful, and wanton wife of the Elizabethan favourite's 
 son and successor. She was Frances Howard, daughter of the 
 Duke of Suffolk, Lord Chamberlain. As a child of thirteen 
 she was married to Robert Devereux, third Earl of Essex, who 
 was one year older. This boy-and-girl marriage was nothing 
 but a ceremony, and immediately after the wedding the two 
 were separated, the bridegroom to go to the University and 
 afterwards to the Continent, the girl-bride to her mother's house. 
 It is no wonder that when the boy returned as a man she did 
 not recognize him lovingly as a husband, but hated him as a 
 stranger who was bound to her by a ceremony which in her 
 case had been an outrageous mockery. While he had been 
 abroad she had grown in mind and beauty, and at her father's 
 great house in London had attracted the eyes of men who 
 would dare many things for her wit and loveliness. The King's 
 son and heir, Prince Henry, that noble young man, as he seems 
 to have been, who commiserated and comforted Raleigh in his 
 prison, declaring openly that no one but his father would keep 
 such a bird in such a cage, and who was so well loved by the 
 people that the King was jealous of being outshone, came often 
 from his mansion in the Strand (still standing as a relic of the 
 time), or from the palace of St. James's, to the house of the 
 young beauty, and was dazzled by her. 
 
 It is impossible to know how much we should believe of 
 contemporary gossip on this affair. There are always men 
 about a Court ready to calculate the exact meaning of a 
 message between two pairs of eyes, to twist a chance phrase 
 into a dark secret, and to elaborate an intrigue out of an 
 innocent jest. But it does seem that Prince Henry was hot 
 upon the trail of the Lady Essex, and that she was inclined to 
 tease him on. " The Prince of Wales, now in his puberty," says 
 
VILLIERS COMES TO COURT 23 
 
 Wilson, " sent many loving glances as ambassadors of his good 
 respects." Sir Symonds D'Ewes makes the plain statement 
 that the Earl of Northampton, her uncle, incited her to win the 
 Prince, and that he was the first to enjoy her favours. In the 
 " Aulicus Coquinarise," so strongly salted with scandal, we read 
 that it was a notorious truth that the Prince, who otherwise 
 was untouched by women, had a love for the Countess of Essex 
 before any other lady living. 
 
 The lady herself, however, was soon in the meshes of another 
 passion. Somerset, then Viscount Rochester, had set her heart 
 on fire with his flaxen hair, and with his handsome face, 
 " tinctured with yellow of the Sycambrian colour." That also 
 was a notorious truth, and Prince Henry knew his rival. Osborne 
 relates how one day he threatened to hit his father's favourite 
 over the head with a racket, and Wilson has a story of a glove 
 dropped by the lady, which was picked tip and given to the 
 Prince as a thing to please him. But he drew back his hand 
 and would not touch it, saying that " he scorned it, since it had 
 been stretched by another." Prince Henry died, though not of 
 love, in 1612, and Robert Carr, Lord Rochester, had now only 
 one rival between himself and the lady for whom, so mad was 
 he in his guilty passion, he lost his honour, and risked all his 
 fortune. That rival was the husband, the Earl of Essex, who, 
 coming home to the wife with whom he had never lived, desired 
 her company and affection. The one he got under compulsion, 
 the other never. She made no secret of her repugnance to him, 
 and when submitting to his appeals, and to her father's stern 
 commands, she travelled with her lord to his great house in 
 Essex, she sat all day long sulking and weeping in her own 
 room. Whenever she came to town again, Somerset (as it is 
 convenient to call him) succeeded in meeting her, and between 
 them, on one of these visits, they arranged a scheme for making 
 a way to their union. It was agreed that the Lady Essex 
 should plead for a nullity of her marriage for reasons dishonour- 
 ing to the manhood of the EarL 
 
 Somerset sounded the King on the subject, and found him 
 complaisant. It seemed to James that if a divorce could be 
 made lawfully between the Earl and Countess of Essex, so that 
 his favourite could marry this lady, Frances Howard, daughter 
 of his Treasurer, the Duke of Suffolk, it would be good for the 
 
24 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 peace of mind of majesty, and for the welfare of the Court 
 and kingdom. There had been much jealousy against his 
 favourite on the part of Suffolk and his kinsmen, distressful to 
 the King, who wished his Court to be a happy family. But if 
 Carr married the Essex woman she would give the favourite an 
 alliance with the greatest family in the kingdom and stifle their 
 hostility. The King's consent to the proceedings of divorce was 
 gained, not only by Somerset's fair words, but by his gold. 
 The master who had made him rich was at this time very 
 needy, finding a proud parliament and a people (bled too much 
 and too often by his tax-collectors and prodigal young men) 
 unwilling to yield to his requests for loans and benevolences. 
 " We being at a dead lift," says secretary Winwood, " and at 
 our wits end for money, he [Somerset] sent for some officers of 
 the receit, and delivering them the key of the chest, bid them 
 take what they found there for the King's use ; which they say 
 was four or five and twenty thousand pounds in gold." This 
 was the price to be paid for the beauty of a wanton wife. 
 
 "The Viscount Rochester, all this while," says Wilson, 
 "(though plunged in Lust) was held up by the chin in the 
 glories of the Court." But opposition came to Somerset from 
 an unexpected quarter, from his closest friend and confidant. 
 Thomas Overbury, though he had been the go-between in the 
 beginning of the amour, was passionate against the scheme of 
 divorce. " You wonne her by my letters," he wrote to Somerset, 
 but he now denounced " the baseness of the woman," and the 
 shame of marriage with her, vowing that he could and would 
 put an insurmountable obstacle in the way of their union. It 
 is not easy to guess the objections of a man whose sense of 
 honour was not extraordinarily nice. Or is it possible that the 
 healing of the feud between Somerset and his enemies would 
 upset his own ambitions and intrigues? On the other hand, 
 Overbury may have stuck at the idea of a divorce for a 
 woman upon a legal reason which he knew to be as false as her 
 own pretence of virtue. 
 
 Somerset was troubled, and being a fool with this woman 
 let .her into the secret of Overbury's opposition. The Lady 
 Essex was not one to smile at such enmity. D'Artagnan's 
 " Miladi " in her revengeful and cruel nature was not more 
 inherently vicious than this daughter of the Howards. To 
 
VILLIERS COMES TO COURT 25 
 
 one Sir Daniel Wood, a noted duellist, she offered a thousand 
 pounds to rid her of the insolent Overbury. Sir Daniel, how- 
 ever, declared that " he had no objection to bastinado him, but 
 that he was unwilling to be sent to Tyburn for any lady's 
 pleasure." Overbury, it seems, did not keep his objections 
 secret, but maligned, or rather, told the truth, about the lady to 
 men about the Court. Beauty, however, has many champions, 
 and Weldon says that "if one of her brothers or any of her 
 kindred had killed him in fair combat, the world would readily 
 have exonerated them." 
 
 But what seemed a safer way was found by Somerset and 
 his friends to silence a dangerous voice. Overbury was offered, 
 and then ordered upon, an embassy to France or Russia. It 
 was a usual method of getting a highly placed man out of the 
 country for a time. But Overbury, at bay, and with his temper 
 up, protested that neither the King's Majesty nor any law could 
 compel him to leave his native land. The answer was carried 
 (and doubtless exaggerated in tone and phrasing) to James, 
 who, in spite of his easy familiarity with favourites, upheld the 
 Divine Right of Kings, and would not be flouted by one for 
 whom he had no liking. Overbury's answer was construed as 
 Use majesty and the knight was sent to cool his temper, and 
 improve his manners, in the Tower. 
 
 Things were now hurried on. The Earl of Northampton, the 
 uncle of the Countess, presented a petition to the King for the 
 divorce of the Earl and his lady, and James directed that 
 the case should be heard by the bishops and a Royal Commis- 
 sion. The details of the trial that now took place would 
 doubtless be reported fully in modern newspapers that pander 
 to the prurience of a low-class public. There is no need to 
 stain these pages with it. It was a shameful affair, and the 
 Earl of Essex would have been justified in scorning the bishops 
 and peers who were willing to blind themselves to a notorious 
 intrigue between his wife and Somerset, for the sake of flatter- 
 ing the wishes of the King and his favourite, were it not that 
 he played into their hands, and suffered a public degradation 
 of his manhood, in order to rid himself of an evil woman. We 
 may believe Bishop Goodman when he declares himself con- 
 fident that if the Countess had not instituted the proceedings, 
 " the Earl of Essex would himself have been the plaintiff, so 
 
26 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 then I hereby conclude that both parties were agreed, and were 
 alike interested in the business." The King took a personal 
 part in the trial, used his influence with the judges, and argued 
 the psychology of the marriage relationship with curious 
 pedantry and mediaeval candour of speech. It was a foregone 
 conclusion, and the marriage was formally annulled, though 
 Abbot, the Archbishop of Canterbury, an honest and courageous 
 man, held out against a decision which accorded virtue to an 
 immoral woman. " To his everlasting fame," says Weldon, " he 
 mainly opposed all the proceedings and protested against them, 
 for which he ever after lived in disgrace, excluded from the 
 Council Chamber, and dyed in the disgrace of the King on earth, 
 though in favour with the King of Kings." 
 
 Sir Thomas Overbury did not hear of the verdict in favour 
 of the Countess. The day before its announcement, and after 
 an imprisonment of six months, during which time he had been 
 refused all intercourse with the outside world, he died suddenly 
 and mysteriously, and was buried hurriedly. Even then there 
 were people who had been his friends, and others who were 
 Somerset's enemies, who whispered dark things about his death. 
 But it was some time before the secrets of the Tower were 
 revealed with such detailed horror, that not even the gold or 
 greatness of a conscience-tortured man could stifle and bury 
 them. 
 
 On the day after Christmas Day in 1613, Frances Howard 
 and Robert Carr were married at Whitehall, the King and 
 Queen and all the great people of the Court attending the 
 ceremony, which was as magnificent as any Royal wedding, and 
 followed until Twelfth Night by a series of pageants, pomps, and 
 masques. Those who had been, and were, in their hearts, 
 Somerset's deadly enemies gave him fawning flattery, and smiled 
 with white teeth at his beautiful bride. But in corners they 
 whispered, and made comments on the hang-dog looks of the 
 husband, and lifted eyebrows at the impudence of his lady wife, 
 who appeared all in white, with hair hanging down, according 
 to the marriage dress of a lily virgin. Some of them vowed they 
 would drag this favourite down, and with him that woman cling- 
 ing on his arm, but they must wait till the King lost his madness 
 for the flaxen-haired Scot. Yet in spite of these whisperings, 
 Whitehall, as Roger Coke says " was too narrow to contain the 
 
V1LLIERS COMES TO COURT 27 
 
 triumphs of this marriage, and they must be extended to the 
 city." 
 
 And Wilson, with more hyperbole, says, "The City of 
 London and the Court at Whitehall like two great stars in 
 conjunction had one and the same influence and operation, 
 they must do something for the man whom the King loves : 
 Therefore a great Feast is prepared by them in the Merchant 
 Taylor's Hall (and all the Grandees and Ladies are invited) with 
 so much magnificence as if it had been Competition, and vyed 
 with Whitehall for Glory. They all rode on horseback into the 
 City in the evening, following their two Leaders ; the men attend- 
 ing the Bridegroom and the Women the Bride ; so mounted, 
 furnished and adorned with Trappings, and so bespangled with 
 Jewels that the Torches and Flamebeaux, which were numerous, 
 were but little light to the Beholders." 
 
 Robert Carr, made Earl of Somerset a month before his 
 marriage, and Lord Treasurer of Scotland three days before, 
 was now the most powerful man in the kingdom, though not 
 the happiest (having dark secrets in his brain), and a complete 
 ascendancy over the King's will. He attached himself closely 
 to his wife's great-uncle, Henry Howard, the Earl of North- 
 ampton, and to the Spanish party of Catholics who favoured 
 an alliance with those who had been our deadly enemies. 
 When Northampton died in June of 1614, Somerset became 
 acting Lord Privy Seal, and in July Lord Chamberlain, so that 
 he could hardly go further in ambition. Indeed, he had reached 
 that point in the arc of fate, after which there is a decline, and 
 this was hastened by his own changing temperament and by 
 outward hostile forces now constantly at work to undermine 
 him. His early sweetness of manner had changed into a gloomy 
 arrogance and sullen temper, which alienated courtiers and 
 endangered him with the King. But it was his intriguing with 
 the Spanish party and with that nation, which ranged against 
 him such men as Pembroke and Seymour, and other English 
 lords with whom hatred to Spain was still a tradition and the 
 first principle of patriotism. It was in this position, then, of 
 high power, but attacked by secret forces undermined, that the 
 first favourite stood when young George Villiers came with the 
 sunshine of his face to the Court of James. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 THE DOWNFALL OF SOMERSET 
 
 IT was after the famous meeting of great nobles at Baynard's 
 Castle that George Villiers entered the King's household, 
 the office of Cup-bearer being purchased for him by Sir Thomas 
 Lake. The King, fearing the jealousy of Somerset, did not raise 
 the young man immediately by any formal title, though he was 
 already high in his affections. " He had taken such a liking of 
 his Person," writes Sir Henry Wotton, "that he resolved to 
 make him a Master-piece and to mould him as it were Platoni- 
 cally to his own Idea. Neither was his Majesty content to be 
 the architect of his Fortunes without putting his gracious hand 
 to some Part of the Work itself : In so much as it pleased him 
 to descend and to visit his Goodness, even to the giving of his 
 aforesaid Friend Sir John Graham directions how and by what 
 Degrees should bring him into Favour." 
 
 This " aforesaid friend," Sir John Graham, was a Gentleman 
 of the Bedchamber, experienced in the temper of his master 
 and in the ways of the Court, so that he was valuable as an 
 adviser of a young man ignorant, as yet, of his perils and oppor- 
 tunities. He began the duties of his guardianship by holding 
 back the young courtier from an imprudent marriage with love 
 and poverty. It is characteristic of Villiers that he had hardly 
 set foot in London before he was in the meshes of an amorous 
 adventure. This was with the daughter of Sir Roger Ashton, 
 Master of the Wardrobe, an old and trusty servant, who had 
 long held the confidence and affection of the King without 
 getting a great share of Royall plunder. Sir John Graham, a 
 canny Scot, laughed at this calf-love between Villiers and his 
 young lady, and used his powers of argument to prove the folly 
 of an early marriage with a maid of no great family or wealth, 
 
 28 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF SOMERSET 29 
 
 in the case of a man like Villiers who, having the King's grace, 
 might hold himself in waiting for a much greater match. Villiers 
 allowed himself to be persuaded. He gave up Mistress Ashton, 
 not without some tugging at the heart-strings, though the pity 
 is all on the side of the maid, who lost her handsome gallant. 
 To the promoters of his fortune one thing was now necessary 
 before he could be secure. He must gain the Queen's good 
 grace. James, though it is suspected that he had no great love 
 for his consort, Anne of Denmark, stood in a certain wholesome 
 fear of her, and it was one of his principles never to take up a 
 new favourite without first obtaining for him the Queen's support. 
 It was, perhaps, one of those touches of pedantry belonging to 
 his self-conceived philosophy of kingship. There was no 
 reason why Villiers should be objectionable to the Queen. She 
 agreed at least with his patrons in hating Somerset and desiring 
 his downfall. Osborne declares plainly that " the Queen became 
 head of a great faction against him." 
 
 So Villiers was introduced to her, and made his first bow 
 to that plump, yellow-haired Danish woman who had not 
 escaped the scandal of Sir Benjamin Backbite and others, who 
 would tear a woman's reputation to tatters with " I could an' if 
 I would." She was, no doubt, a woman without much serious 
 purpose, and thought her life well spent in watching masques 
 which, so slander said, were not always as decorous as they might 
 be, even in an age of licence. She is said to have loved the 
 Earl of Murray, who was stabbed to death in the face by the 
 Earl of Huntly, to whom with his dying breath he said, " You 
 have spoilt a better face than your own," for in the words of the 
 old song — 
 
 " He was a braw gallant 
 
 And he played at the glove, 
 
 And the bomrie Earl of Murray 
 
 He was the Queen's love." 
 
 She is said also, God knows with what truth, to have loved 
 the Earl of Gowrie's brother, who was also killed. The poor 
 lady must have needed some other love than the ungainly King 
 her husband, and her straying fancies may have been innocent 
 enough. James left her much alone in private, though publicly 
 he feigned the tenderest affection. Osborne has left a ludicrous 
 little picture of a scene : when the King parted from her one 
 
30 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 evening, " and to show himselfe more uxorious before the people 
 at his first coming than in private he was, he did at her coach 
 take his leave, by kissing her sufficiently to the middle of her 
 shoulders, for so low she went bare all the dayes I had the 
 fortune to know her, having a skinne far more amiable than 
 the features it covered, though not her disposition in which 
 report rendered her very debonaire." 
 
 Anne of Denmark did not take very kindly to George 
 Villiers. When she was asked to favour his suit with the King, 
 she answered that if he became a favourite he would prove 
 more intolerable than any that had gone before him. And the 
 Archbishop, Abbot, who was with her when she spoke these 
 words, wrote afterwards : " Noble Queen, how like a prophetess 
 you speak ! " * Yet in his early days the Archbishop did not 
 find Villiers intolerable, but was his powerful supporter and 
 spiritual adviser. There is a letter from him to the young 
 favourite, written when Villiers was first exalted, which is full of 
 kindness — 
 
 "And now, my George, because of your kind affection 
 towards me, you style me your father. I will from this day 
 forward respect and esteem you for my son, and so hereafter 
 know yourself to be. And in token thereof, I do now give you 
 my blessing again, and charge you as my son, daily to serve 
 God, to be diligent and pleasing to your master, and to be wary 
 that, at no man's instance you press him with many suits ; 
 because they are not your friends that urge those things upon 
 you, but have private ends of their own, which are not fit for 
 you. So praying God to bless you, I rest 
 
 " Your very loving father, 
 
 "G. Cant. 
 
 "Lambeth, loth Dec. 1615. 
 
 " To my very loving son, Sir George Villiers, 
 
 Knight and Gentleman of his Majesty's Bedchamber " * 
 
 It was on St. George's Day of 161 5 that Villiers received 
 the first of those titles which soon were to fall so thick on him. 
 A scene as curious as any in romantic drama took place in the 
 palace. Within his bedchamber James sat with the Queen and 
 Prince Charles. Outside, by the Queen's arrangement, Villiers 
 * Goodman's "Memoirs." 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF SOMERSET 31 
 
 waited for a call from her when she might find some occasion 
 to summon him into the presence. With him on one side of 
 the room were his patrons and friends, among them the Arch- 
 bishop, and on the other stood Somerset with a gloomy face 
 among a few of his followers, waiting also for an opportunity to 
 enter the Royal bedchamber.* Both parties knew that there 
 was something more at stake this evening than bedchamber 
 compliments to the King. They knew that the Queen was 
 using her influence to raise this young rival of the Earl's, and 
 Somerset himself suspected that upon the issue depended his 
 claim to be first favourite. One's imagination pictures that 
 scene — the young Villiers smiling easily, and chatting with 
 careless grace to the Archbishop and his friends, as though 
 already assured of the honour now being asked for him ; these 
 friends of his whispering or staring in tense silence at the King's 
 door, waiting for some movement within ; while standing away 
 from them was the flaxen Earl, the wreck of a former beauty on 
 his face, silent and moody, turning his steel grey eyes for a 
 moment upon the resplendent beauty of his young competitor. 
 It was not a secret that the King was being asked to make 
 Villiers a Gentleman of his Bedchamber, so that he would be 
 constantly under the eyes of the King, and Somerset chafed at 
 the first sign of his waning influence, for, until then, such a 
 position had been in his own patronage. He dared to send 
 in a message begging the King at least to be content with 
 conferring on Villiers the inferior office of Groom of the Bed- 
 chamber j but the Archbishop, overhearing this, sent words of 
 his own to the Queen, pressing her to insist on the higher office. 
 It was all a game of James's, as we may well believe, for he 
 loved prearranged effects and carefully rehearsed surprises. We 
 cannot doubt that he had resolved upon his favour to Villiers. 
 That young man was at last called for, and when he was 
 admitted, the Queen spoke to the Prince to draw his sword and 
 give it her. Then she knelt before the King, "and humbly 
 beseeched his Majesty to do her that special favour as to knight 
 this noble gentleman whose name was George for the honour 
 of St. George whose feast he now kept." The King blinked 
 with his blue eyes at the cold steel as though afraid of it as 
 usual. " He seemed," says Bishop Goodman, who tells this 
 
 * Goodman's " Memoirs.'' 
 
32 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 story, " to be afeard that the Queen should come to him with a 
 naked sword." But then with a joyful air he took the weapon 
 and gave George Villiers that tap on the shoulder which raised 
 him from the common rank. "And," says the Bishop, "it 
 might very well be that it was his own contriving, for he did 
 much please himself with such inventions." 
 
 Villiers received something more than knighthood, and that 
 he might uphold his new honours with a necessary splendour 
 (the King liking his gentlemen well dressed and attended), was 
 given an annuity of a thousand pounds, settled on him out of 
 the Court of Wards. 
 
 It was a blow to Somerset, whose temper was not of a 
 yielding kind so that he could see himself take a second place 
 in the King's confidence without resentment. It must not be 
 thought, however, that the Earl was put down from his high 
 place by a sudden turn of the King's fancy. He was still in 
 power, not only by virtue of his office as Lord Chamberlain and 
 Privy Seal, but also by the dominating influence of his strong 
 will and arrogant spirit over the King's weaker nature. James 
 was easily overawed by a man of his character and it was also 
 difficult for one of his real amiability and sincerity of affection 
 to break with a man whom he had loved and looked to for 
 some years as his closest counsellor and most intimate and 
 trusted friend. Somerset, if he had played the game cleverly, 
 might easily have held his place, and kept Villiers in a subor- 
 dinate position among the King's gentlemen. But he was his 
 own worst enemy, and by presuming insolently upon his influence 
 with the King, and by the petulance and arrogance of his 
 protests and demands, aroused the Stuart spirit of obstinacy 
 which was at the bottom of the King's nature, in spite of all his 
 weakness. Although Somerset stood almost alone, having 
 alienated the affections of all but the family of the Howards, 
 he behaved as though the King were a mere weakling and 
 plaything in his hands. He broke in upon the privacy of the 
 King's majesty at unreasonable hours with complaints of the 
 factious conduct of his enemies, and displayed violent jealousy 
 against the young knight Villiers, until at last James was stirred 
 to give him a severe and well-merited rebuke. In Howell's 
 collection of letters of the Kings of England there is a remark- 
 able copy of a letter from James to his ill-tempered Earl. As 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF SOMERSET 33 
 
 for the factions, he wrote, he knew little of them, and he certainly 
 should refuse to give heed to any accusations against him pro- 
 ceeding from such a quarter. He had done all that was in his 
 power to prove that his confidence was undiminished. He had 
 made Sir John Graham, who had incurred Somerset's ill-will, 
 feel his displeasure, admitting Somerset's nephew to the vacant 
 place which the Earl had demanded of him, though even the 
 Queen had begged him to give it to another (whom we may 
 guess was Villiers). He was obliged to tell him that his temper 
 was unbearable. The King's affection for him was great, but 
 he would not be forced any longer to listen to the abusive 
 language with which he had been overwhelmed. Let Somerset, 
 he said, only deal with him as a friend, and there was nothing 
 which he was not ready to grant. But he was resolved not to 
 put up with his present behaviour any longer. 
 
 Having thus asserted his sovereign will, James reminded his 
 old favourite that he still held a high position, and that with the 
 Duke of Suffolk, his father-in-law, as the Lord Treasurer, there 
 was no evidence of his having lost authority and power, but that 
 all great offices were in the hands of himself and his family. 
 
 For a time the King relieved himself of the increasing ill- 
 humours of the Earl by paying visits to his courtiers in their 
 country houses. At Purbeck he was feasted by Lord Hatton, 
 one of Somerset's enemies, and afterwards he condescended to 
 stay at a "joynture house" of Sir George Villiers's mother, 
 where, we are told by Anthony Weldon, he was magnificently 
 entertained. This was at Gotley, or Godley, House, in Leicester- 
 shire, and we should like to have the privilege of a closer sight 
 of His Majesty's visit. The behaviour of the "Toby Belch" 
 knight, Sir Thomas Compton, must have been mirthful to the 
 looker-on, this rustic squire being unused to the company of 
 Kings. But James may well have enjoyed himself. His new 
 Gentleman of the Bedchamber would have done the honours of 
 his mother's house with charming grace, and there were other 
 young men to amuse the King, who loved lusty young manhood 
 — John and Christopher, and George's pretty sister Susan. It 
 was probably on this visit that James first met his young 
 favourite's mother, now Lady Compton, his hostess. Though 
 in later years, when raised to be Countess of Buckingham, she 
 incurred the displeasure of the King by haughty and foolish 
 
34 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 ways, she must have been outwardly a charming woman, and to 
 have possessed also considerable strength of character. Bishop 
 Goodman is only one of many who have spoken in her favour, 
 when he said, referring to her earlier years, before she married 
 the farmer-squire, that " maybe she had no great portion, but 
 what was wanting therein she did supply abundantly, by her 
 beauty, her carriage, her good disposition, and might very well 
 be the mother of such a favourite." 
 
 After this good entertainment the King made his way home- 
 ward, stopping again at sundry houses along his route ; and as 
 he neared Whitehall, and Somerset, who sulked there,ihe became 
 anxious to use all means to reconcile the clashing between his 
 declining and rising favourite. With this view, being at Lul- 
 worth, the King employed Sir Humphry May, who was in the 
 service of Somerset, but who had a friendliness towards Sir 
 George, to use his influence (not revealing his instructions from 
 the King) to bring about a more friendly feeling between the 
 Earl and the young Gentleman of the Bedchamber. Villiers also 
 was ordered to follow close upon the lieels of this emissary, and 
 to present himself and his service to Somerset. Sir Humphry 
 conducted this delicate task in a way that does not seem to 
 have been extraordinarily tactful. 
 
 " My lord," he said to the Lord Chamberlain, " Sir George 
 Villiers will come to you to offer his service, and desire to be 
 your creature, and therefore refuse him not, embrace him, and 
 your lordship shall still stand a great man, though not the sole 
 favourite." • 
 
 The Earl listened grimly, and did not seem to welcome this 
 advice, so that Sir Humphry May then told him in plain terms 
 that he had been sent by the King to persuade him to a 
 reconciliation, and that Villiers would presently come to cast 
 himself upon the protection of his lordship, and to take his rise 
 under the shadow of his wings. 
 
 Half an hour after Sir Humphry had left the Lord 
 Chamberlain, Sir George Villiers came in, hat in hand, and 
 very obsequious towards the great man. 
 
 "My lord," he said, "I desire to be your servant and your 
 creature, and shall desire you to take my Court preferment 
 under your favour, and your lordship shall find me as faithful a 
 servant unto you as ever did serve you." 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF SOMERSET 35 
 
 The Earl, looking with his steel-blue eyes at the young man, 
 returned this quick and short answer : 
 
 " I will none of your service, and you shall have none of my 
 favour. I will if I can break your neck, and of that be 
 confident." 
 
 Anthony Weldon, who tells this story, vouches for "these 
 very words." His authority is not always to be accepted easily, 
 and he is to be found out in many palpable and wanton errors, 
 but there is no reason to doubt that some such scene took place 
 between the old and the new favourite, and there is other and 
 good evidence to show that the King did seek to reconcile the 
 two courtiers. 
 
 So the breach between Somerset and James grew wider on 
 account of Villiers, but time lingered before the fall came. We 
 get glimpses of the Court life of George Villiers in this spring- 
 time of his favour, and they are of a merry heart among jesters 
 and laughing knights. The King was in trouble with his 
 Parliament ; his daughter Elizabeth, who had married the King 
 of Bohemia, was with her husband deprived of her crown by the 
 grasp of Austria, and James had other woes. It was therefore 
 a solace for him to laugh at the jokes of his Court gallants, and 
 they kept his spirits up by pranks that leaked out to a Puritani- 
 cal public, twisted and exaggerated by rumour and scandal. 
 Bishop Goodman has written the King's apology. 
 
 " For those sports and merriments " (he wrote), " which Sir 
 Edward Zouch and others did use before the King, to my best 
 remembrance they began when the King was full of sorrow 
 upon the losse of the palatinate, and many breaches with the 
 parliament. Then he considered his own estate, how it was 
 exhausted and misspent by those unto whom he intended most 
 good, . . . then to prevent melancholy, and for avoiding sorrow, 
 I confess the good King gave way to such like sports. And 
 truly Zouch, Goring, and Finet had wit enough to make honest 
 mirth with fooleries ; such as know them will say it." 
 
 The Bishop elsewhere says, that " Sir George Villiers had 
 kept much company with the gentlemen waiters, who sometimes 
 after supper did leap and exercise their bodies. But Bucking- 
 ham of all others was most active." Among the " gentlemen 
 waiters," or, as they would now be called with more dignity, the 
 gentlemen -in -waiting, was Sir John Millisent, "who," says 
 
36 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Weldon, "was commended for notable fooling, and so was he 
 indeed the best extempore fool of all." Then there was Archie, 
 the King's jester, by pay and profession/who seems to have had 
 a shrewd mother-wit, which enabled him to be wise in his 
 folly, not without danger to himself. Archibald Armstrong was 
 the real name of this cannie Scot, who at a later date said many 
 hard things against Archbishop Laud, whom he hated, and who 
 at an earlier time was tossed in a blanket by the followers of 
 Prince Henry, because he had dared to suggest to the King that 
 the son was more popular than his father. 
 
 Charles, now Prince of Wales, after the death of his brother 
 Henry, was at this time a boy of fifteen, but old enough to join 
 in the madcap frolics of the King's young men, which in later 
 days, when he came into the serious dignity of his manhood, he 
 must have remembered with some shame. 
 
 Sir Anthony Weldon describes some of their diversions in 
 detail, though we may suspect that this Puritan, who had a nose 
 for scandal, made them seem worse than they were. " After the 
 King supped," he writes, " he would come forth to see pastimes 
 and fooleries, in which Sir Edward Zouch, Sir George Goring, 
 and Sir John Finit were the chief and master fools, and surely 
 this fooling got them more than any other's wisdome. Zouch's 
 part was to sing bawdy songs and to tell bawdy tales ; Finit's 
 to compose these songs ; there was a set of fiddlers brought to 
 Court on purpose for this fooling, and Goring was master of his 
 game for fooleries, sometimes presenting David Droman, and 
 Archee Armstrong, the King's foole on the back of the other 
 foole, to tilt one at another, till they fell together by the eoares ; 
 sometimes they performed antick dances." 
 
 Certainly some of the jests of these young courtiers passed 
 the limit of good fooling to a scandalous degree. There is a 
 well-known story (found originally in Arthur Wilson's work) of 
 how Villiers, to divert the King and his companions, arranged 
 a mock baptism. A young lady was brought in carrying a pig 
 in the dress of a new-born baby. One Turpin, on this occasion, 
 was dressed like a bishop in all his pontificals. He began the 
 rites of baptism with the common prayer-book in his hand ; a 
 silver ewer with water was held by another. George Villiers 
 stood as godfather. When James turned to look at the infant 
 the pig squeaked, and it was an animal which he greatly abhorred. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF SOMERSET 37 
 
 At this, highly displeased, for, with all his weakness for coarse 
 pleasantry, he hated anything obviously irreverent, he cried, 
 " Out ! away, for shame ! What blasphemy is this ! " 
 
 Although Villiers was now safely seated in the affections of 
 the King, it cannot be said that at this time he had any of the 
 influence or power going with the title of first favourite. The 
 flaxen Earl still held all the powers of the Court by right of his 
 office, his family greatness, and his domineering temper, which 
 could still cowe the King. But in the autumn of 1615, at the 
 dining-table of the Earl of Shrewsbury a dread secret was told 
 to an eager ear, and the old proverb in vino Veritas was illus- 
 trated once more to the undoing of the powerful Lord Chamber- 
 lain and Privy Seal. Since the sudden death of Sir Thomas 
 Overbury rumour had not been quiet, and by one thing and 
 another leaking out among humble people, who dared not, and 
 could not, carry such black tales to high places, but from whom, 
 in that mysterious way of popular rumour, there spread a 
 dreadful miasma of suspicion, the Earl of Somerset was looked 
 upon by many with a certain vague horror and distrust. Then, 
 at Flushing, an apothecary's boy on his deathbed confessed to 
 having put poison in Sir Thomas Overbury's food by order of 
 great people. 
 
 One man there was who determined to get at the bottom of 
 these whispered accusations. This was Sir Ralph Winwood, 
 Secretary of State, who hated Somerset for his Spanish policy, 
 and desired beyond all things to drag him down. In one of 
 those coincidences by which fate plays the game, Secretary 
 Winwood, as the guest of the Earl of Shrewsbury, was placed 
 next to Sir Jervis Elways, or Elvis, who was Lieutenant of the 
 Tower, and had been when Overbury died. Winwood got into 
 amiable conversation with him, and then, as if he knew all, and 
 treating the subject lightly, as if it were an old tale, inquired 
 as to the exact details of Overbury's going off. Sir Jervis 
 unbosomed himself with the utmost frankness, and Winwood, 
 with open ears, heard what was of priceless worth to him. He 
 parted later from the Lieutenant of the Tower in a very familiar 
 and friendly way, as if he had received good satisfaction as to 
 the excuses the Lieutenant had framed for himself. But upon 
 taking his leave of the Earl of Shrewsbury and his guests, the 
 Secretary of State travelled, back in haste to the King, and told 
 
38 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 him in private all he had heard, which was nothing less than 
 an accusation of foul murder against the Earl and Countess of 
 Somerset, and others who had been their confederates in crime.* 
 
 We need not think so ill of James as to believe that he 
 heard this thing with any other feeling than horror. He had 
 had the most sincere affection for Robert Carr, and in spite of 
 his old favourite's sullen tempers of late had, as Hume says, 
 great remains of tenderness for him. But there was also cause 
 for great personal uneasiness. Somerset had been so close in 
 his councils that he knew many secrets of State which could 
 not be revealed to the world without danger to the King's own 
 reputation with his people. His negotiations for a Spanish 
 match with the late Prince Henry, in which articles had been 
 drawn up by the Catholic power, though not consented to by 
 James, would cause the greatest offence to English Protestants 
 if the details of them leaked out, and Somerset was privy to the 
 fact that some of his master's gentlemen were receiving money 
 from Spain for secret service and political friendship. This, 
 if known, would hurt the King as much as his friends. If 
 Somerset's papers were seized — and the officers of the law would 
 surely lay hands on them — many awkward facts would be 
 brought to light, and there was no knowing what a man of 
 Somerset's temper would say or do when brought to bay by 
 his enemies. 
 
 But the accusation against the Earl was too grave to be 
 hushed up, and James was compelled to assent to its investiga- 
 tion by the Lord Chief Justice, Sir Edward Coke, a man relent- 
 less and ferocious in his genius for running his victims to earth, 
 and whose sense of justice was always directed to proving the 
 guilt of the accused. 
 
 Coke lost no time in getting on to the tracks of those 
 implicated in the alleged murder. By the confession of the 
 apothecary's boy, and by the confidences of Sir Jervis Elways 
 to Winwood, their names were known, and they were taken in 
 one batch. The Lieutenant of the Tower himself, Sir Thomas 
 Monson, a man named Weston, a quack doctor called Franklin, 
 and Mrs. Turner, a woman of ill fame, were the first prisoners. 
 But there was bigger game, and on October 17, 1615, a 
 commission sitting under the Lord Chief Justice Coke, Lord 
 * " Autobiography of Sir Symonds D'Ewes." 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF SOMERSET 39 
 
 Chancellor Egerton, and the Attorney-General Francis Bacon, 
 at York House in the Strand, drew up orders for the Earl of 
 Somerset "to keep his chamber near the Cockpit," and to his 
 countess " to keep her chamber at the Blackfriars, or at Lord 
 Knollys's house near his Tilt Yard." The warrant for Somerset's 
 arrest reached him when he was with the King at Royston, in 
 Hertfordshire, where James was holding his Court. James had 
 not breathed a word to his old favourite about the sword of 
 justice hanging over his head, and when the messenger came 
 he found the King with his arm about the Earl's neck, and 
 kissing his cheeks. When the warrant was presented, Somerset, 
 in the first shock of the news, was seized with furious anger, 
 and protested that this arrest in his Royal presence was an 
 outrageous insult to majesty. But James silenced him with 
 a grim remark : " Nay, man, if Coke sends for me I must go." 
 Weldon adds that when the Earl had submitted to his arrest, 
 and parted from the King, James said, "The de'il go with 
 thee, for I will never see thy face mair." But there is absolute 
 proof that James had no desire for the Earl's condemnation and 
 death, and if he used those words, " I shall never see thy face 
 more," it was probably with a sudden passion of regret for the 
 doom settling upon his former favourite, who would get no 
 mercy from Sir Edward Coke and his officers of law. 
 
 In a letter from John Chamberlain to Sir Dudley Carleton 
 (afterwards Lord Doncaster) we learn that "the lady of 
 Somerset was committed to the Tower upon so short a warning 
 that she had scant leisure to shed a few tears over her little 
 daughter at the parting. Otherwise she carried herself very 
 constantly enough." She begged earnestly that she might not 
 be put into the prison where Overbury had been lodged, fearing 
 no doubt his dreadful ghost, and this request being granted 
 immediately, she was imprisoned in Raleigh's old apartments. 
 
 With all his prisoners safe, Sir Edward Coke went about 
 his work with immense zeal, and after three hundred examina- 
 tions presented a report to the King, in which the charge was 
 drawn up, stating that Frances Countess of Essex had been 
 in the habit of employing sorcery to estrange the affections of 
 her husband, and to win those of Robert Carr, then Viscount 
 Rochester ; that to remove Overbury, the great impediment 
 to the projected marriage of the lovers, a plan was concerted 
 
40 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 between them and the Earl of Northampton ; that by their joint 
 contrivance Overbury was committed to the Tower, Wade the 
 Lieutenant removed to make place for El ways, and Weston 
 recommended as warder of the prisoner; that the Countess 
 having, with the aid of Mrs. Turner, procured three kinds of 
 poison from Franklin, an apothecary, intrusted them to the 
 care of Weston ; that by him they were administered to Over- 
 bury with the privacy of Elways, and that at last the unfortunate 
 gentleman perished in prison, a victim to the malice or the 
 precaution of Rochester and his mistress.* 
 
 In the records of the trials that now caused the most pro- 
 found sensation throughout the country, we may find one of the 
 most melodramatic stories in the annals of English crimes, and 
 many curious details which throw a vivid light on the super- 
 stitions and immorality lurking in the dark corners of Stuart 
 society. 
 
 The two prisoners, Mrs. Turner and Dr. Franklin, were an 
 evil pair ; creatures who preyed upon the bodies and souls of 
 human beings and fattened on their vices. It was at Mrs. 
 Turner's houses, at Hammersmith and Paternoster Row, that 
 the Earl of Somerset had kept his secret meetings with the 
 Lady Essex before her divorce. The woman was by trade a 
 milliner and starcher, but in her back parlour she dispensed 
 love-philtres, and was a go-between in the guilty intrigues of 
 Court gallants and citizens' wives, and of others more highly 
 placed. 
 
 Although Franklin provided the powders which killed 
 Thomas Overbury, it was another man named Forman who 
 was her closest confederate in these practices. He was a man 
 of education and scientific knowledge, which he debauched to 
 the purposes of quackery and " the hidden art," professing to 
 read the riddle of the future by casting horoscopes, and to in- 
 fluence the fate and fortune of his dupes by sorcery, the philo- 
 sopher's stone, amulets, and all kinds of charms. Once a 
 schoolmaster without degrees, then a poor scholar of Magdalen 
 College, then a wanderer on the Continent and in the East, 
 where he learnt his magic and black arts, a physician in Philpot 
 Lane, four times imprisoned, and once fined for practising 
 without having graduated, later a resident at Jesus College, 
 
 * Lingard. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF SOMERSET 41 
 
 Cambridge, where he obtained his degree of Doctor of Physic 
 and Astronomy, he finally set up in practice at Lambeth, and 
 obtained some reputation for curing difficult diseases. But the 
 man was too far gone in imposture to make an honest career, 
 and by dabbling with poisons and " magic " powders was soon 
 notorious as a rogue. 
 
 It was this man of evil who, with Mrs. Turner the pro- 
 curess, preyed upon the weakness and guilty passions of Frances 
 Howard, the daughter of the proudest family in England, and 
 the wife of the Earl of Essex. Vile and obscene things were 
 done in the presence of that beautiful girl — she was hardly a 
 woman yet. The quack doctor made little images of wax in 
 the likeness of Somerset and the Countess, and others like the 
 Earl of Essex, the first to be " united and strengthened," the 
 other to be " debilitated and weakened." He also gave powders 
 to this poor victim of passion to be secretly administered to 
 her lover and her husband. 
 
 " These things matured and ripened by the juggler Forman 
 gave them assurance of happy hopes. Her courtly incitements 
 that drew the Viscount [Carr, then Viscount Rochester] to 
 observe her, she imputed to the operation of those drugs he had 
 tasted ; and that harshness and stubborn comportment she 
 expressed to her husband, making him (weary of such enter- 
 tainments) to absent himself, she thought proceeded from the 
 effects of those unknown powders that were administered to 
 him. So apt is the imagination to take impressions of those 
 things we are willing to believe." 
 
 These things may seem to have but little bearing on the 
 murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, but when Mrs. Turner was 
 put on her trial with Franklin, the other apothecary, this 
 evidence as to the character and evil life of the Countess was 
 dragged from them, the waxen images were produced in court, 
 sending a thrill of horror through the spectators, and indelicate 
 letters from the Countess to the quack were read out, proving 
 to the public mind that Somerset's wife was capable of any 
 guiltiness. Both Franklin and Mrs. Turner were condemned to 
 death, there being no doubt as to their having, in the service of 
 Lady Essex, procured the poison which was administered to 
 Sir Thomas Overbury in the Tower by the wretched apothecary's 
 boy, who on his death-bed had made confession. Upon passing 
 
42 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 sentence the Lord Chief Justice Coke added the strange words 
 that " as she was the person who had brought yellow starched 
 ruffs into vogue she should be hanged in that dress, that the 
 same might end in shame and detestation." She was hanged 
 at Tyburn on the 15th November, 1615, and her demeanour on 
 the scaffold, when she gave vent to " deep sighs, tears, confessions, 
 and ejaculations of the soul," excited the maudlin commiseration 
 of the spectators. Pity was ill bestowed upon this woman and 
 Franklin, who both deserved death as accessories to the crime. 
 But there is no clear evidence as to the guilt of Sir Jervis 
 Elways, the Lieutenant of the Tower, or of Weston, who had 
 been Overbury's warder. The Lieutenant had confessed in 
 writing to the King that he had met Weston carrying poison, 
 and had prevented him from attempting to give it to Overbury. 
 He stated that renewed attempts had been made to convey 
 poison to Overbury, but that he had succeeded in frustrating 
 them till the apothecary's boy eluded his vigilance. Weston 
 himself confessed that he had thrown away poison in con- 
 sequence of the Lieutenant's rebuke, and while he was the first 
 to implicate Lady Somerset, steadily denied that he had actually 
 administered poison. For a time he refused to plead, and it 
 was only under threat of the peine forte et dure, that is to say, 
 the terrible torture of the rack and press, that he was induced 
 to stand to his trial. By what must be considered as a juggling 
 of evidence on the part of Coke, his condemnation was procured, 
 Sir Jervis Elways having been already condemned, upon equally 
 dubious proofs, and both were executed. Many people believed 
 that he had been made a victim to shelter Somerset, who had 
 not yet been brought up for trial, and when Weston went to 
 the scaffold there was a remarkable demonstration. Several 
 gentlemen, including Sir J. Hollis, Sir J. Wentworth, Sir 
 Thomas Vavasour, and Sir Henry Vane, rode up to the gallows 
 and called on Weston to confess the fact if he were guilty. 
 " Fact or not fact," he replied, " I die worthily." The curious 
 gentlemen were afterwards summoned before the Star Chamber 
 for slandering the King's Justice, and two of them, Hollis and 
 Wentworth, were sentenced to suffer a year's imprisonment and 
 to pay a fine of a thousand pounds. 
 
 Sir William Monson, who had procured Weston's place in 
 the Tower, was next called to the bar, but he strenuously denied 
 
LADY ESSEX, AFTERWARDS COUNTKSS OF SOMERSET 
 
 AFtEU THE ORIGINAL BY C HOI-L 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF SOMERSET 43 
 
 any part in the crime, and his trial was postponed by Coke, 
 whose brain was by this time inflamed with many wild and 
 whirling actions. Franklin, the poison compounder, in the 
 hope of saving himself had flung out mysterious accusations, 
 and these had stirred the imagination of the Lord Chief Justice, 
 though they had been of no use to the criminal. In searching 
 through the papers of the Earl of Somerset, of Monson and the 
 other prisoners, he had smelt high treason and Spanish plots. 
 Coke made the most of his suspicions and threw out dark hints. 
 " Knowing," he said, " as much as I know, if this plot had not 
 been found out, neither court, city, nor any particular houses 
 had 'scaped the malice of that wicked crew." He did not stop 
 at this, but hinted that Prince Henry, the heir to the Throne, 
 had been done to death. Partly to obtain further information 
 about these suspected Spanish plots in which Coke believed 
 that both Somerset and Monson were deeply involved, and 
 partly because the King expressed his strong belief that 
 Monson was quite innocent, the case was postponed for some 
 months until Digby, afterwards Earl of Bristol, our ambassador 
 at the Spanish Court, should return home. It was not till May, 
 therefore, of the following year, 1616, that the trial was resumed, 
 Digby having in the meanwhile assured the commissioners that 
 Somerset had not been guilty of any treasonable correspondence 
 with Spain. The case now came into the hands of the Attorney- 
 General, Francis Bacon, who for some time had been in close 
 counsel with the King as to the conduct of the trial. James 
 had been severely displeased with the Lord Chief Justice for 
 giving expression to such wild and disturbing charges, and 
 Bacon, who, in spite of his partisan fashion of administering 
 justice, had a clear legal mind and cold judgment, brushed on 
 one side all these irrelevant suspicions. The Attorney-General 
 was fully convinced of the guilt of both the Earl and Countess, 
 and was resolved to secure their condemnation as speedily as 
 possible, knowing that although the King was inclined to mercy 
 (though he also seems to have had no doubt as to his favourite's 
 guilt) he was in an agony of apprehension as to what Somerset 
 might say in his endeavour to save himself by implicating his 
 Royal master, and revealing by hinting at secrets of State. 
 The trial of Lady Somerset, which took place in Westminster 
 Hall, was simple enough. The evidence was plain against her, 
 
44 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 and she pleaded guilty. It was a remarkable and tragic scene. 
 The court was crowded with the peers and gentlemen who 
 but a few short months before had done homage to her beauty, 
 and had been eager in their flattery. Now in the gaze of these 
 curious eyes this young and still beautiful woman trembled and 
 turned pale, and, seized by the shame and horror of her position, 
 hid her face behind her fan. Bacon, having summed up the 
 facts for the prosecution, asked her whether she desired to say 
 anything in arrest of judgment. In a faint voice, so that eager 
 ears could scarcely hear her words, she answered that she could 
 not lexcuse her fault. She begged for mercy, and prayed that 
 the Lords would intercede for her with the King. Then, as 
 once or twice before, she burst into tears. Her beauty and 
 her youthfulness moved the onlookers in spite of her acknow- 
 ledged guiltiness. Sir Dudley Carleton's garrulous corre- 
 spondent, Chamberlain, who was in the Court, says that " she 
 won pity by her sober demeanour," but he, being in a critical 
 mood, adds, " which, in my opinion, was more curious and 
 confident than was fit for a lady in such distress, yet she shed 
 or made show of some tears at divers times." 
 
 Ellesmere, the Lord Chancellor, pronounced sentence of 
 death upon her, and the unhappy woman was taken back to 
 the Tower to await the King's decision as to whether that 
 sentence would be executed upon her. 
 
 On the day following, Somerset himself was brought to the 
 bar. But much had taken place behind the scenes previous to 
 this public appearance before his judges. Many communica- 
 tions had passed between him and the King, directly and 
 indirectly. Knowing the character of James as well as any 
 man, the Earl had played upon its weakness by threats of 
 disclosing State secrets, by accusing the King of giving way to 
 Coke's wilfulness, by suggesting that James would be endangered 
 by ranging against himself as mortal enemies the great family 
 of the Howards, by protesting violently against the injustice of 
 being tried by his personal and malignant foes. James was 
 most distressed and bewildered by his former favourite's be- 
 haviour, but showed more dignity and firmness than Somerset 
 had expected of him. His past affection for the Earl still 
 remained strong enough to induce him to use his prerogative 
 of mercy should the prisoner be found guilty, and it is evident 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF SOMERSET 45 
 
 from the King's letters to his counsellors that from the beginning 
 he was resolved to save the man's life. But he would not allow 
 himself to be browbeaten and blackmailed into setting aside 
 the course of justice, and though he was nervous as to "what 
 wild accusations Somerset might in his rage fling out in open 
 court, he was resolved that he should stand his trial. The 
 King's great hope was that Somerset, whom he firmly believed 
 had connived at Overbury's murder, should plead guilty, so 
 that the public trial should be short and without scandal. To 
 this end he sent some of his gentlemen secretly to the prisoner 
 to promise him life and fortune if he would confess. But 
 Somerset, who was, as we now may believe, at least technically 
 innocent of the murder, was violent in his refusal of this sugges- 
 tion. " Life and fortune," he said, " are not worth the acceptance 
 when honour is gone." On the very day before his trial he 
 swore that he would not appear in court, feigning illness, and 
 even madness. Once again the King sent to him, this time 
 Lord Hay and Sir Robert Carr, and to Sir George More, the 
 Lord Lieutenant, he sent word that if Somerset still refused to 
 go to the bar he must take him there by force. " If," he added, 
 with a last hope of Somerset's confession, " he have saide any 
 thing of moment to the Lord Haye I expect to heare of it 
 with all speede, if otherwayes lette me not be trublit with it 
 till the tryall be past" 
 
 Somerset, finding that all his threats and violence were of 
 no avail, yielded to the inevitable, and when he stood at last at 
 the bar of justice, it was with a dignity and resolute courage of 
 demeanour which win some respect for him. The court was 
 crowded with the men who hated him, or who had been his 
 dependants. There is no doubt that George Villiers was there 
 watching that great prisoner, whose downfall was to be his own 
 opportunity of rising. The position of Villiers was already 
 assured and acknowledged, and during Somerset's imprisonment 
 he had been close in the King's counsels. The Attorney-General 
 Bacon had advised with him by correspondence on the subject 
 of the trial, a sure proof of his new influence at Court. 
 
 Somerset's defence was not without sincerity and truth. He 
 flouted the accusations by which Franklin the quack had sought 
 to implicate him. "Let not you there, my noble peers, rely 
 upon the memorative relation of such a villain as Franklin, 
 
46 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 neither think it a hard request when I humbly desire you to 
 weigh my protestations, my oath upon my honour and con- 
 science, against the lewd information of so bad a miscreant." 
 He acknowledged sending tarts from his own table to Overbury, 
 but there had been no poison in them. He had sent powders 
 also for Overbury's sickness, but Overbury had in a letter before 
 the court admitted that he had not suffered from them. 
 
 According to the modern law of evidence, there is nothing 
 in the records of this trial which would to a modern jury convict 
 Somerset of direct share in the murder of Overbury. But in 
 those days circumstantial evidence was admitted much more 
 easily, and Somerset's guilt was convincing to his peers, first 
 because of his treachery to the murdered man who had been 
 his friend, and whose imprisonment in the Tower he had pro- 
 cured by stratagem, and second, because of his close relationship 
 and common interests with the woman who had confessed her 
 guilt. 
 
 Somerset's defence was weakened on account of his need to 
 keep secret the motives which had caused him to secure the 
 imprisonment of the unfortunate Overbury. He could not 
 without shame confess those things relating to his early relations 
 with the Lady Essex, which Overbury knew, and had threatened 
 to divulge. Anothei black mark against him was his destruc- 
 tion, immediately after the accusation against him, of letters 
 from the Earl of Northampton, who had been in the plot 
 against Overbury. Having no explanation to offer on these 
 questions, it was evident that he dared not reveal his secrets, 
 and his reserve was to his judges a clear evidence of guilt. 
 
 The Attorney-General Francis Bacon was clear and ruthless 
 in his indictment, and his charge seemed clearly damning to 
 judges already convinced. While Somerset was pleading the 
 daylight died down, and the torches threw a glow upon his face 
 and figure upon which were turned all eyes. Then late in the 
 evening the judges retired to consider their verdict. For a 
 little while the crowded court waited in tense silence, and the 
 prisoner stood motionless, regretting, perhaps, in those dread 
 moments the gurfty passion for an evil woman which had 
 brought him to this public shame. Then the judges came back 
 unanimous in their verdict, and pronounced him guilty. Somerset 
 briefly expressed a hope that the court would intercede for 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF SOMERSET 47 
 
 him with the King, and was then removed from the bar. And 
 out into the night air went a crowd of men with wagging 
 tongues, with brains excited by this thrilling drama in which 
 the man who had been highest in power by the King's side had 
 fallen low. 
 
 To one man this judgment was of supreme personal import- 
 ance. To young George Villiers the removal of the Earl of 
 Somerset from the position of First Favourite left the way 
 clear to his own glory. On that night of May, 1616, Villiers 
 must, we think, have spent wakeful hours wondering what the 
 future had in store for him.* 
 
 * Neither the Earl nor the Countess of Somerset suffered the execution of their 
 sentences. The lady received a pardon from the King within a few days of her 
 condemnation. The Earl refused a pardon, still protesting his innocence, and 
 remained in prison until four months before the death of James, when tired of the 
 Tower he solicited mercy and received it. The Countess died in 1623, hated by her 
 husband, who survived her for thirteen years. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 THE FIRST FAVOURITE 
 
 WHEN the unhappy Earl was accused and then disgraced, 
 it was clear even to those who could not closely watch 
 the King's behaviour that young Sir George Villiers was to be 
 the reigning favourite. He was made Master of the Horse, a 
 post, it is true, having no political importance, but of high 
 social honour in the Court of a King whose chief pleasure was 
 in the hunting field, and who loved the gossip of the stable. He 
 was also in an unofficial position of extraordinary influence, for 
 James took him into his most secret councils, and as private 
 secretary he possessed the key to the King's mind, and to the 
 whole business of Royal patronage and diplomacy. At this 
 time there were many favourably disposed to him and few 
 resolute enemies, for he was not great enough to be feared and 
 hated, and as yet had not revealed the arrogant and careless 
 spirit which possessed him when he came to his full power. He 
 was modest, affable, and full of courtesy, and it seemed to those 
 who had first brought him into Royal favour that he would 
 serve their interests and be a pliant tool, while those who had 
 most to fear from the downfall of Somerset — the great Howard 
 family and their dependants — were not as yet aware that in 
 this handsome youth of easy grace and charm of manner they 
 would find a dangerous rival. When at a later date he was 
 sworn of the Privy Council, "as though," says Wotton, "a 
 Favourite were not so before," and James, struck anew by his 
 beauty, dubbed him " Steenie " — that pet name by which he was 
 henceforth called by his fond master, it was from a fanciful 
 allusion to St. Stephen, when "all that sat in the council, 
 looking on him saw his face as if it had been the face of an 
 angel." 
 
 48 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 49 
 
 And truly at that time Villiers, though his young blood was 
 hot within him, had qualities nearer the angelic character 
 (though not very near) than in his later years when he came to 
 his full pride. Bishop Goodman, dilating on that beauty of 
 person which has been described by many others, bears witness 
 also to his inward grace. 
 
 " He had a very lovely complexion ; he was the handsomest 
 bodied man of England ; his limbs so well compacted, and his 
 conversation so pleasing, and of so sweet a disposition. And 
 truly his intellectuals were very great : he had a sound judg- 
 ment, and was of a quick apprehension, in so much that I have 
 heard it from two men and very great men . . . that he was as 
 inwardly beautiful as he was outwardly, and that the world had 
 not a more ingenious gentleman, or words to that effect." His 
 boyish, indeed his almost girlish looks, in this first flush of life, 
 made him seem to observers a youth in whom there was no 
 guile. Sir Symonds D'Ewes, who saw him once standing 
 among a number of swarthy " French monsieurs " in the tilting 
 yard at Whitehall, comments on this characteristic of the young 
 knight : " I saw everything in him full of delicacy and handsome 
 features, yea his hands and feet seemed to be specially effeminate 
 and curious." 
 
 He stood well with the great lords about the King, not 
 having as yet a party of his own. After Somerset's disgrace, 
 James had purchased peace in the family of his Court by con- 
 ferring the great offices of State, which were then reshuffled, on 
 men of the most opposite interests and character, so that no one 
 family or party was unduly favoured. Pembroke, the noble 
 Earl, received the office of Lord Chamberlain, then vacant by 
 Somerset's removal. The Catholic Earl of Worcester (one 01 
 the Spanish party, and therefore politically opposed to Pem- 
 broke) became Lord Privy Seal, and to counteract the influence 
 of Secretary Winwood, who was rabid in his hatred for Spain, 
 Lake, who was actually receiving a pension from the Spanish 
 Government, and was a creature of the Howards, was made a 
 Secretary of State. The Howards themselves did not share in 
 the disgrace of the Earl, their kinsman by marriage. Suffolk 
 was still Lord Treasurer, squandering vast sums through sheer 
 carelessness and inefficiency. Nottingham was Lord High 
 Admiral, letting the fleet go to ruin, and being cheated from top 
 
50 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 to bottom by those in his employ, who were making fortunes out 
 of the building and victualling of His Majesty's ships, and the 
 administration of the Navy department. These, of the Howard 
 family, and their hangers-on, were inclined to be haughty and 
 insolent to young Villiers, who had ousted the last great 
 Favourite, but George was content to bide his time. Mean- 
 while the younger men at Court, and those with ambitions 
 unsatisfied, paid their homage to the ascendant star, and sought 
 to gain his friendship. Naturally also there were many jealous 
 of his fortune, and some like Chamberlain, the friend of Dudley 
 Carleton, who when George Villiers fell sick in April of the 
 year 1616, hoped that smallpox would mar his beauty. "But it 
 proved otherwise," writes this correspondent dolefully, " and we 
 see there is much casting about how to make him a great 
 man, and that he shall now be made of the Garter. But non 
 credo" * 
 
 Chamberlain, however, had to swallow his unbelief, for on 
 St. George's Day of 1616 Villiers and the Earl of Rutland, 
 afterwards his father-in-law, were admitted to the Most Noble 
 Order, not without some murmuring among those who were 
 always on the look-out for omens of political disaster. The 
 Puritans growled at this honour to Rutland, because his wife 
 was an open and well-known " recusant " (that is to say, of the 
 old faith), and the Earl was said to have many dangerous 
 people about him. That Villiers should be given the Garter 
 seemed a scandal, because he had not the wealth and lands to 
 do credit to this dignity of princes and great lords. But those 
 who put forward such a reason were the fools of their own envy. 
 George Villiers was not long a lackland. The King would have 
 given him Somerset's forfeited estate of Sherborne, which had 
 belonged also to another favourite, Elizabeth having given it to 
 Raleigh, who was now eating his heart out in the Bloody Tower. 
 But Villiers did not covet the place, though it was a rich 
 possession. His generous instincts recoiled from the thought 
 of founding his fortune upon the very hearthstone of his fallen 
 rival. Also, the place was reputed to be unlucky to those who 
 gained it by Royal gift, and this had weight with Villiers, who 
 was superstitious. Sherborne was therefore given to Sir John 
 Digby, our ambassador to Spain, and Villiers did not lose by 
 * "Court and Times of James I." 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 51 
 
 its refusal, getting instead estates formerly belonging to Lord 
 Grey, which were valued at ;£8o,ooo, being twice the worth of 
 Sherborne.* 
 
 The prodigal Scot, James Hay, Earl of Carlisle, had hoped 
 to get the Garter when Villiers was raised to the Order, and 
 lingered about the Court in this expectation, but vainly. He 
 was now sent on a mission to France to discuss terms of 
 marriage between Prince Charles and the French King's sister, 
 and Villiers, whom he envied, but did not dislike, being of an 
 easy temper and without malice, received a lesson in magnificent 
 display which he afterwards emulated with complete success. 
 The preparations for Hay's embassy were the talk of the Court 
 and town, and the King's treasury being very low at this time, 
 it devolved upon Villiers to suggest expedients for raising 
 money to equip an ambassador who had high notions of the 
 splendour of his mission. It gave the Favourite a chance of 
 exercising his patronage in the King's service, and he brought 
 ^10,000 to the Treasury for the expenses of Hay's journey, by 
 getting a peerage from James for Sir John Roper, of the Court 
 of King's Bench, who had long coveted the honour, and was 
 willing to pay for it. By this means Steenie himself was 
 glorified. He had made a peer of the realm, which is more 
 than most men can do. He had shown a business-like instinct, 
 pleasing to his master, and he had enabled Hay to gratify his 
 expensive vanity. 
 
 Hay made the most of his opportunity, though there were 
 jesters at Court who laughed at him. Chamberlain, writing to 
 Carleton, says : 
 
 " He goes with great pomp, but is like to be shrewdly 
 disappointed, for having made twenty special suits of apparel 
 for so many days abode, beside his travelling robes, news is 
 lately come that the French have newly changed or altered this 
 fashion, whereby he must needs be out of countenance, if he be 
 not set out after the last edition. But the Lady Haddington 
 hath bestowed a favour upon him that will not easily fall to the 
 ground ; for she says the honour and beauty of his embassy 
 consists in three mignards, three dancers, and three fools or 
 buffoons. The mignards are himself, Sir Harry Rich, and Sir 
 George Goring " (the first companions of Villiers as Gentlemen- 
 * "Court and Times." 
 
52 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 in- Waiting) ; " the dancers, Sir Gilbert Hawton, Auchmonty, 
 and Abercrombie ; the fools or buffoons are Sir Thomas Jermyn, 
 Sir Ralph Sheldon, and Sir Thomas Badger." 
 
 Hay was not such a fool, however, as his foppishness gave 
 out, and though his mission to France was unsuccessful in bring- 
 ing off a marriage treaty, it was to his credit that he advised 
 the King against accepting demands which would have inevitably 
 aroused the passion of English Protestants. Meanwhile, the 
 Favourite, who had provided funds for a magnificence which still 
 makes Hay a splendid memory in French history (it is said that 
 his very horse was shod with silver), received still greater 
 honours from the King. As Wotton says, " Favours came 
 thick upon him liker mean showers than sprinkling Drops or 
 Dews." In August he was raised to the peerage as Baron 
 Whaddon, and then to a higher step as Viscount Villiers. In 
 January of the following year he was made Earl of Buckingham. 
 The King, as " architect of his fortunes," as he was pleased to 
 call himself, had done his work quickly, and had made this 
 rolling stone the corner-piece of his Court. It was only two 
 years since "dogge Steenie " had been out at elbows, a hanger-on 
 among the riff-raff. Now he was equal in rank to the lords who 
 had used his handsome face against Carr, and beyond all great 
 lords in his influence over the sovereign will. The King was 
 never happy if his favourite were absent from him, and he loved 
 to hang on the arm of the handsome fellow who was now the 
 central figure in all the prodigal magnificence of the Stuart 
 Court. For his pleasure James devised banquets and merry, 
 masques, and all who wished for Royal patronage followed the 
 lead of majesty and paid homage to the reigning favourite, the 
 dispenser and arbitrator of honours and perquisites. 
 
 " On Twelfth Night," writes Chamberlain to his friend 
 Carleton, " the new-made Earl and the Earl of Montgomery " 
 (Pembroke's brawling, spendthrift brother) "danced with the 
 Queen. . . . Yesterday the Middle Templars entertained the 
 Earl of Buckingham with a masque, whether it be that he was 
 of their society, or that they would preoccupy his favour." 
 
 Francis Bacon, the great Attorney-General, was not among 
 the laggards to pay court to the brilliant young favourite. 
 Like others at this time, he believed that the character of 
 George Villiers would be an influence for good over James, and 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 53 
 
 if he could be rightly advised to use his power for other than 
 mere personal advantages, upholding the authority of the King 
 his master, and of the great officers of State ; if he adopted a 
 broad policy of patriotism, instead of descending to party 
 intrigues; if he retained his modesty of bearing and listened 
 to the counsels of experienced men, then his great position 
 would be a blessing to the nation. So Bacon, in his philo- 
 sophical way, thinking always of broad issues while inattentive 
 to minor facts, took a rosy view of Buckingham's supremacy 
 over the King's affections, and became his ardent champion and 
 faithful counsellor. In a long and famous letter of advice to 
 the new man he revealed this optimism, and that wisdom and 
 noble serenity which are in all his writings, though not always 
 in his own deeds. 
 
 "You are now the King's favourite," he wrote, " so noted, 
 and so esteemed by all. . . . Remember then what your true 
 condition is. The King himself is above the reach of his people, 
 but cannot be above their censures ; and you are his shadow, 
 if either he commit an error and is loath to avow it, but excuses 
 it upon his Ministers, of which you are the first in his eyes : or you 
 commit the fault or have willingly permitted it, and must suffer 
 for it ; so perhaps you may be offered as a sacrifice to please 
 the multitude. But admit you were in no such danger, as I 
 hope you are not, and that you are answerable only to God and 
 the King for your actions, yet remember well the great trust 
 you have undertaken. You are as a continual sentinel, always 
 to stand upon your watch, and to give him the true intelligence. 
 If you flatter him you betray him. If you conceal the truth of 
 those things from him, which concern his justice or his honour 
 (although not the safety of his person), you are as dangerous a 
 traitor to this State as he that riseth in arms against him. A 
 false friend is more dangerous than an open enemy." After 
 this candid counsel, Bacon launched into a long discourse con- 
 cerning the great principles of Royal prerogative, religion, State 
 business, foreign policy, trade, and Court favour, concluding 
 with the earnest prayer that the young favourite might long 
 live " a happy instrument " to his King and country.* 
 
 In return for Francis Bacon's friendship, Geordie Villiers, 
 who was now Earl of Buckingham, graciously extended his 
 
 * Spedding's "Life and Letters of Francis Bacon." 
 
54 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 patronage to the Attorney-General — to many people it must 
 seem like a gaudy butterfly patronizing the sun — and when 
 Ellesmere, the Lord Chancellor, lay on his death-bed after a 
 long and noble life, Buckingham was not inclined to stand in 
 the way of his friend's highest ambition. There was, indeed, 
 no other man who could justly claim the high office. Bacon's 
 rival, Coke, whose bull-dog courage had led him into a struggle 
 between the Royal prerogative and the authority of the judges, 
 had been dismissed from his office of Lord Chief Justice, and 
 was still in disgrace. Ellesmere himself had recommended the 
 Attorney-General as his successor. Buckingham, therefore, had 
 but little to do in the appointment of Bacon as Lord Keeper 
 of the Great Seal (it was only in the following year that he 
 obtained the full title of Lord Chancellor), except that he did 
 not attempt to thwart his promotion. But Bacon thought well 
 to express gratitude to his young friend, as though the Favourite 
 had been the chief means of his promotion. " In this day's 
 work," he wrote, " you are the truest and perfectest mirror and 
 example of firm and generous friendship that ever was in Court. 
 And I shall count every day lost, wherein I shall not either 
 study your well-doing in thought, or do your name honour in 
 speech, or perform your service in deed. Good my Lord, 
 account and accept me your most bounden and devoted friend 
 and servant of all men living." * 
 
 This acknowledgment of his influence of the new Lord 
 Keeper was pleasing to the spirit of the Favourite. But James 
 had placed the patronage of the Crown in his hands, and he 
 was anxious, like all new men, to show his power. When, 
 therefore, the Attorney-Generalship fell vacant owing to Bacon's 
 rise, Buckingham opposed for a time the claims of Sir Henry 
 Yelverton, who had been Solicitor-General for four years, and 
 was now recommended by old Ludovic Stuart, Duke of Lennox, 
 the King's kinsman. The favourite put forward Sir James Ley, 
 late Chief Justice in Ireland, and a man of sterling worth. But 
 when Yelverton, after some haughtiness towards the favourite, 
 apologized for his behaviour, Buckingham gave way, and James 
 became richer by a present of £ 4.000. This was the acknow- 
 ledgment Yelverton made for his new office, and James, to 
 whom it was an unexpected windfall, threw his arms round 
 
 * Spedding. 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 55 
 
 the new Attorney-General, and gave thanks that he could now 
 buy some dishes, of which he was very much in want ! 
 
 Other legal posts falling vacant on account of these promo- 
 tions were filled by good men, and it was generally considered 
 that justice gained by these appointments. 
 
 Credit is due to Buckingham, and it is acknowledged even 
 by his enemies, that he used his patronage with clean hands. 
 Formerly the favourites, of whom Carr was a notable example, 
 had exacted enormous bribes in return for their influence. 
 Buckingham was generally pleased to favour his friends without 
 any other recognition than their adulation, or consented at most 
 to receive presents not large enough, considering his own fortune 
 now, to be called bribes. His giddy rise to fortune had perhaps 
 turned his head a little, but vanity, not avarice, was his besetting 
 sin. He desired and exacted homage, and he counted any man 
 his enemy who did not seek advancement by his good offices. 
 But with his income of £ I 5,000 a year, he could afford to reject 
 a bribe with lordly disdain. It pleased him to be generous 
 without expecting any return but gratitude; and the praise 
 that buzzed around him for his noble disinterestedness, the 
 press of courtiers at his chamber-door eager to kiss his hand 
 and obtain the benediction of his smile, the great lords pleased 
 to keep company with one who not long ago had been a poverty- 
 stricken squire, the Court ladies who spread their nets before 
 him, the popular wonder at his magnificence and beauty, the 
 expectant hush that fell upon any company as he passed out 
 of the King's chamber, the throng of tradespeople who bent 
 low before his lordship and solicited his orders ; all this acknow- 
 ledgment of his greatness and splendour was as a sweet incense 
 in his brain, beyond which he sought no pecuniary profit other 
 than by the King's grace. 
 
 Bishop Goodman is one of those who testifies to Bucking- 
 ham's lack of that venal spirit which had made the Court a 
 hot-bed of corruption. " When I was made bishop," he says, 
 "in my instruments there was the mistaking of some words, 
 which I did fear was wilfully done only to draw a fee ; then the 
 secretary had for the mending of those words twenty pieces ; then 
 I sent a piece of plate to Buckingham which I think cost me be- 
 tween forty and fifty pounds. This he would not receive, but sent 
 it back again, and rewarded the messenger with three pieces." 
 
56 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 George Villiers had many faults, but a good heart. His 
 
 affection for his own kinsfolk, for his brothers and half-brothers, 
 
 and sister Susan, and specially for his lady mother, who had had 
 
 the making of him, is not discreditable to his character, though 
 
 it was the cause of scandal among his enemies, who soon learnt 
 
 to hate the name of Villiers. Lady Compton, as his mother 
 
 was now known, was brought up to town (Sir Thomas being 
 
 apt to boast of his great madam and gallant George among his 
 
 old friends in the country), and her son was faithful in his 
 
 devotion to her, though her gushing and excitable temperament, 
 
 and afterwards, her arrogant behaviour at Court, was a cause of 
 
 embarrassment at times. Edward Villiers, eldest half-brother 
 
 to George, was given a knighthood, and made Master of the 
 
 Mint. Christopher, George's own younger brother, was made 
 
 a Gentleman of the Bedchamber, and afterwards Master of the 
 
 Wardrobe. As we shall see later, they endeavoured to enlarge 
 
 their fortunes by business enterprises of a somewhat shady 
 
 character. John, though he was a little weak in the head, was 
 
 also knighted, and made Gentleman-in-Waiting to young Prince 
 
 Charles. Little Susan was remembered also, and as the sister 
 
 of the Favourite, and a beauty in her own right, she was not 
 
 likely to be left unnoticed. Even the Compton side of the 
 
 family was not without honour, though Sir Thomas himself was 
 
 too devoted to strong potations to be brought forward. 
 
 The industrious correspondent Chamberlain, though he had 
 no fondness for the favourite, does not blame him for this. " I 
 cannot but commend that good Lord's disposition in doing 
 good to his kindred and friends, though some rhyming com- 
 panions do not forbear to tax him for it ; as one, by way of a 
 prognostication, says — 
 
 " ' Above in the skies shall Gemini rise 
 And Twins the court shall pester, 
 George shall up his brother Jack, 
 And Jack his brother Kester.' * 
 
 With more of the like stamp." 
 
 We find much more of the same stamp in the " Poems and 
 Songs relating to George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham," 
 collected by the Percy Society. Many of the verses are too 
 
 * Short for Christopher. 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 57 
 
 lewd to be published, and one of themi which satirizes the 
 favours shown to the Villiers family and all their connections 
 by marriage is in the coarsest vein. It begins with the following 
 lines : — 
 
 " Heavens blesse King James our joy, 
 And Charles his baby, 
 Great George, our brave Viceroy, 
 
 And his faire lady ; 
 Old Beldam'Buckingham 
 And her Lord Keeper ; 
 » * * « * 
 
 These are they beare the sway, in courte and citty 
 And yet few love them, the greater's the pitty." 
 
 Lord Keeper Williams was falsely supposed to be over- 
 familiar with the Duke's mother, but the lines omitted are too 
 obscene for publication. 
 
 The noble Earl, our youthful George, was delighted to sun 
 himself among his kindred, and being a warm-hearted fellow 
 it was good to be surrounded with the faces of those companions 
 of their youth. They brought the familiar old country customs 
 and turns of speech, and rustic dances were introduced to Court, 
 the King himself being pleased to take part in them, and 
 delighted with the Villiers boys and girls. Anthony Weldon 
 is spiteful about all this : 
 
 " And now Buckingham," he writes, " having the chancellor, 
 treasurer, and all great officers his very slaves, swells in the 
 height of pride, and summons up all the country kindred, the 
 old Countess providing a place for them to learn to carry them- 
 selves in a court-like garb, but because they could not learn 
 the French dances so soon as to be suitable in their gay clothes, 
 country dances (for their sakes only) must be the garb of the 
 Court, and none else must be used." 
 
 Then going on without a break, though referring to a later 
 period when there were little members of the Villiers family, he 
 says, " Little children did run up and down the King's lodgings 
 like little rabbit-starters about their burrows. Here was a 
 strange change, that the King who formerly could not endure 
 his queene now you would have judged that none but women 
 frequented them ; nay that was not all, but the kindred had 
 the houses about White-Hall — as if they had been bulwarks 
 and flankers to that cittadell." Although written with malice 
 
58 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 intent, there is something rather pretty in this picture of White- 
 hall echoing with the pattering footsteps of the little ones. 
 
 In the spring of this year 1617, the King made a Royal 
 progress to Scotland, fourteen years having passed since he had 
 been to Holyrood, his first Court, and the scene of his early 
 adventures in kingcraft. With him went the First Favourite and 
 those minor favourites who were, with Buckingham himself, his 
 playfellows and companions — Sir George Goring, who had now 
 returned from the French mission ; Sir Edward Zouch ; Sir 
 John Finit, the Master of Etiquette, and others, who, as Arthur 
 Wilson says quaintly, " would fit and obtemperate the King's 
 humour." Leaving the business of State behind him in the 
 hands of Bacon, the Lord Keeper, and the other great officers, 
 the King gave himself up to pleasure, and on the road to 
 the North stayed at many country houses of the nobility and 
 gentry of the kingdom, who at great expense showed their 
 loyalty by lavish entertainment. All along the road there were 
 merry doings to beguile the journey, and while the days were 
 cut short the nights were lengthened, contrary to the season. 
 " For what with Hawking, Hunting, and Horse-racing," says 
 Wilson, " the days quickly ran away, and the nights with Feast- 
 ing, Masking and Dancing, were the more extended." Bucking- 
 ham and the gay fellows of the Court aided the country hosts 
 in providing joyous entertainments, and James, out for a 
 holiday, was well pleased. " For he loved such representations, 
 and disguises in their maskeradoes, as were witty and sudden ; 
 the more ridiculous the more pleasant And his new Favourite, 
 being an excellent Dancer, brought this pastime in the greater 
 request." Wilson here hits on a good conceit and makes the 
 most of it : " No man," he says, " dances better, no man runs 
 or jumps better, and indeed he jumpt higher than every 
 Englishman in so short a time, from a private Gentleman to a 
 Dukedome." * 
 
 It was remarked by watchful eyes that the King was never 
 in easy mind if Buckingham were away from him, and seeing this 
 the courtiers and the country gentlemen fawned on the favourite. 
 Yet Buckingham, though expectant now of this homage, and 
 ready to declare any man his enemy who refused it, was kept 
 sane and cheery by his natural amiability. Wotton, in his 
 * It was six years from this time before Buckingham became a Duke. 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 59 
 
 curious little work, "A Parallel between Robert, late Earle of 
 Essex, and George, late Duke of Buckingham," pays a tribute 
 to this sweetness of disposition. 
 
 " Buckingham," he says, " even in the midst of so many 
 diversions, had continually a very pleasant and vacant face (as 
 I may well call it), proceeding no doubt from a singular assur- 
 ance in his temper. And yet I must here give him a rarer 
 Elogie, which the malignest eyes cannot deny him. That 
 certainly never man in his place and power did entertaine great- 
 nesse more familiarly, nor whose lookes were less tainted with 
 his felicities — wherein I insist the rather, because this in my 
 judgment was one of his greatest vertues and victories of 
 himselfe." 
 
 While Buckingham was with the King in Scotland, some 
 curious episodes in the history of his family were being enacted 
 in London, the news of which was sent post haste to the 
 Favourite, and caused his first anger against Bacon, the Lord 
 Keeper, whose advice on this matter did not give satisfaction to 
 him. 
 
 George's mother, Lady Compton, proud of the great fortune 
 to which he had been lifted, was bent on procuring a wealthy 
 bride for her other son, Sir John Villiers. This young man, who 
 had none of his great brother's wit, but some of his ambition, 
 had fixed his affections upon Frances Coke, a daughter of the 
 ex-Lord Chief Justice by his marriage with the rich widow, 
 Lady Hatton, sister of Lord Burleigh, Elizabeth's Treasurer. 
 The girl was one of the beauties of the Court, and, owing to the 
 great wealth of both her mother and father, was coveted by 
 many gallants, who liked beauty best when set in a golden 
 frame. Sir Edward Coke, himself, was not averse to the match. 
 He saw in this proposed alliance with the Villiers family a 
 chance of lifting himself again into Court favour, and getting 
 his revenge against his old rival Bacon. Proud Lady Compton, 
 who negotiated with him, opened her mouth too wide at the 
 thought of his money-bags, and Coke, " sticking at the thousand 
 a year," which she demanded as his daughter's marriage por- 
 tion, " and resolving only to give ten thousand marks, dropped 
 some idle words that he would not buy the King's favour too 
 dear." The plea of economy was overcome by the impetuosity 
 of Lady Compton and by the continued disgrace of the old 
 
60 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 lawyer, and it was agreed, after more haggling, that the beautiful 
 girl should be married to young John Villiers. Her own desires 
 of course, were left out of the question, as usual in [marriage 
 treaties of this period. 
 
 But Lady Compton, who now thought she had won every- 
 thing, found that she had gained nothing, and she had to face 
 a formidable enemy, the mother of the girl. Burleigh's sister, 
 Lady Hatton, had the strength of mind and indomitable will of 
 Elizabeth's great Treasurer, and if there were one man in the 
 world she detested, and one woman she despised, they were 
 Edward Coke, her husband, and Lady Compton, the mother of 
 the Favourite. 
 
 Coke had not had an easy time with his wife, whom he 
 had married for money. She had retained her own name as 
 Lady Hatton, and after many quarrels (their tempers were 
 terrific) and Coke's disgrace, she had abandoned him, and 
 moving about to her various residences in town and country, 
 disfurnished her " lord and master's " house in Holborn, removed 
 all her plate and furniture from his other house in Stoke Pogis, 
 and left him, though reconciled to the absence of a termagant 
 wife, disconsolate at the discomfort of his home-life. 
 
 When faced by the arrangements for the marriage of Frances 
 with the favourite's brother John — Secretary Winwood backing 
 the match, and threatening that " the girl should be married 
 from her in spite of mother's teeth," and Sir Edward " daily 
 tormenting the girl with discourses tending to bestow her against 
 her liking"* — she stuck at nothing to thwart her husband, whom 
 she now hated more than ever. She went so far as to forge a 
 document by which Frances was bound to the Earl of Oxford 
 (now abroad), which the poor girl herself was persuaded to 
 sign, and this done, she put her daughter in the charge of a 
 relative, Ned Withipole, to keep her out of the old man's 
 clutches. 
 
 But Sir Edward Coke was now as much set on the marriage 
 as he had formerly been averse to it, and losing his temper and 
 judgment, both too easily overthrown, met his wife's stratagems 
 by extraordinary violence, scandalous in one who had been 
 Lord Chief Justice, and was considered by the people to be 
 "the oracle of the law." With a dozen tall fellows heavily 
 
 * They are Lady Hatton's words. 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 61 
 
 armed, he proceeded, without warrant or constable, to lay siege 
 to the house where Lady Hatton was then staying, and batter- 
 ing down the doors of the gate-house and of the house itself, 
 did "in a barbarous manner" tear the daughter from her 
 mother. Clem Coke, the old lawyer's son, and a strapping 
 fellow of fighting fame, was a ringleader of this outrage, and 
 the lady complained that he threatened her servants so grievously 
 that "the poor men run away to hide themselves from his fury 
 and dare not appear abroad." 
 
 Here was a pretty to-do ! The noise of it was all over the 
 town, and when Lady Hatton appeared before the Council to 
 lay an accusation against her husband, the ex- Lord Chief found 
 that he had gone too far. He blustered that he could make his 
 action good by law, and that " he feared the face of no great- 
 ness," a dangerously bold assertion to justify an action which 
 had no lawful authority of any kind. 
 
 Francis Bacon, whose rivalry with Coke had been long and 
 bitter, and who had been relieved by his old enemy's disgrace, 
 was naturally averse to a marriage scheme by which the choleric 
 old lawyer hoped to raise himself. He, therefore, fell out with 
 Ralph Winwood, the Secretary, who was supporting the suit of 
 Lady Compton and the Villiers youth. There were strained 
 relations between these two men which were not passed un- 
 noticed by the watchful eyes of courtiers practised in reading 
 the way of the wind by small straws. Winwood, entering a 
 room where Bacon was, pushed a dog off a seat on which it had 
 been sleeping. "A gentleman," said the philosopher, with 
 quiet sarcasm, " loves a dog." At another time, the Secretary 
 taking a seat near to the Lord Keeper, Bacon told him haughtily 
 to remember his place, and keep further off. 
 
 It is evident that Bacon at this time did not in the least 
 understand that the Favourite was a party to this marriage 
 scheme of his brother's, nor did he guess how dangerous 
 Buckingham would be if his purpose were crossed in the matter, 
 or any other upon which he had set his heart. The Lord 
 Keeper was so sure of the Earl's friendship, having done many 
 services for him in business affairs, and having forwarded his 
 wishes regarding the advancement of his own suitors, that he 
 had no hesitation in advising him against the proposed match, 
 and censuring Coke for his turbulent behaviour. He wrote 
 
62 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 to Buckingham in Scotland, protesting that such a match 
 would be very inconvenient both to himself and his brother, 
 because — 
 
 "First, He shall marry into a disgraced house, which in 
 reason of state is never held good. 
 
 " Next, He shall marry into a troubled house of man and 
 wife, which in religion and Christian discretion is disliked. 
 
 "Thirdly, Your Lordship will go near to lose all such 
 your friends as are adverse to Sir Edward Coke ; (myself — only 
 except, who out of a pure love and thankfulness shall ever be 
 firm to you)." * 
 
 Bacon also wrote to the King, begging that if His Majesty 
 approved of the proposed match he would give his own instruc- 
 tions to the Keeper of his Privy Seal. " For if," said Bacon, 
 " I should be requested in it from my Lord of Buckingham, . 
 the answer of a true friend ought to be, that I had rather go 
 against his mind than against his good : but your Majesty I 
 must obey ; and besides I shall conceive that your Majesty 
 out of great wisdom and depth doth see these things which I 
 see not." 
 
 Buckingham was deeply incensed by Bacon's action in this 
 matter, and the letters he received from Lady Compton and 
 his brother, as well as the malicious words of flatterers always 
 ready to stir up strife, increased his resentment. He was heard 
 to say that the Lord Keeper was behaving to him with the 
 base ingratitude which Bacon had previously shown to those 
 who had been his early patrons. He wrote a short, sharp 
 letter of reproof to his best and noblest friend. 
 
 " In this business of my brother's," he said, " that you 
 overtrouble yourself with, I understand from London of some 
 of my friends that you have carried yourself with much scorn 
 and neglect both toward myself and friends ; which if it be true 
 I blame not you but myself." 
 
 The King was not less angry. To displease the favourite, 
 upon whom he doted, was the greatest offence to himself. He 
 was also personally anxious for the match, because in the 
 exhausted state of the Treasury it were better that John 
 Villiers — who t as the favourite's brother must be supported — 
 should dip his hands into Lady Hatton's money-bags than into 
 
 * Spedding's " Life and Letters." 
 
KING JAMES I 
 
 AFTER THE PORTRAIT UY G. I'. HARDING 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 63 
 
 the Royal purse. He therefore wrote a scolding letter to the 
 Lord Keeper, addressed to " Mr. Bacon," in which he vindicated 
 the action of Coke, and signified his desire that no obstacles 
 should be placed in the way of a father who had every right 
 to bestow his daughter's hand upon whomsoever he pleased. 
 An old-fashioned doctrine, but — nous avons changi tout cela I 
 Lady Hatton was meanwhile ordered to produce the docu- 
 ment which she pretended had been accepted by the Earl of 
 Oxford. 
 
 To Bacon the letters of the King and Buckingham came as 
 a great shock. That Buckingham should turn upon him in 
 such anger was a new and painful revelation of the Favourite's 
 character, and the King's letter showed how completely James 
 was under the influence of a man who with many fine qualities 
 had, it seemed, a dangerous wilfulness which not even friendship 
 would restrain. 
 
 The Lord Keeper made up his mind quickly. If the King 
 desired the marriage, well and good. It mattered nothing to 
 Bacon himself one way or the other. His whole life had been 
 in defence of the Royal prerogative, and though he was always 
 ready respectfully to advise the mind of Majesty, he was resolute 
 never to disobey a Royal command. He wrote long letters of 
 apology and devotion to James and the Favourite. But neither 
 of them was prepared to accept his defence, and some incau- 
 tious words, wrongly interpreted by the King, called forth 
 another letter of Royal rebuke, while Buckingham answered 
 with a curt reference to his previous communications on the 
 subject, "without making," he said, "a needless repetition." 
 Bacon had cause to be most uneasy, and he anxiously awaited 
 the report of his friend Yelverton, the Attorney-General (impli- 
 cated also in the opposition to the match), who went to Coventry, 
 with Coke, the enemy in this business, to meet the Court on its 
 way back from Scotland. On the homeward journey a plot 
 was discovered against Buckingham in which the Earl of 
 Somerset's party were implicated. Chamberlain, in a letter 
 dated August 27, 1617, writes : " On Saturday last, here passed 
 by Ware, one Ker a Scottish gentleman, suspected and charged 
 together with some others of that family and name, to have 
 conspired the death of the Earl of Buckingham, at his coming 
 out of Scotland, and so were apprehended about Carlisle, 
 
64 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 where the Marquis of Hamilton was sworn of the Council of 
 England." * 
 
 When Yelverton met the King and his Favourite his report 
 was not reassuring. 
 
 " I dare not think my journey lost," he wrote, " because I 
 have with much joy seen the face of my master the King, though 
 more clouded towards me than I looked for. Sir Edward Coke 
 hath not forborne by any engine to heave both at your Honour 
 and myself; and he works by the weightiest instrument, the 
 Earl of Buckingham, who as I see sets him as close to him as 
 his shirt, the Earl speaking in Sir Edward's phrase, and as it 
 were menacing in his spirit. 
 
 " My Lord, I emboldened myself to assay the temper of my 
 Lord of Buckingham to myself; and found it very fervent, 
 misled by information which yet I find he embraced as truth, 
 and did nobly and plainly tell me he would not secretly bite, 
 but whosoever had had any interest or tasted of the opposition 
 to his brother's marriage he would as openly oppose them to 
 their faces, and they should discern what favour he had by the 
 power he would use.' ; 
 
 Yelverton made some impression upon Buckingham's mind, 
 but left him " leaning still to the first relation of envious and 
 odious adversaries." It is, however, characteristic of Buckingham 
 throughout his career, that while he was quick to declare open 
 hostility to any who thwarted him he would never "secretly 
 bite," and was generous to make amends to any friend whom 
 he had unjustly suspected of enmity. Upon his return to 
 London, he heard some of the facts which had been kept back 
 from him by the Coke and Compton faction, and it was made 
 clear to him that Bacon had no personal interest in opposing 
 the match. The King, more prejudiced, seriously proposed to 
 put a mark of public disgrace upon the Lord Keeper, but if we 
 may believe Buckingham, and he was not a liar in such cases, 
 he begged on his knees that Bacon should not suffer a 
 reprimand. 
 
 "Thus," he writes, "your Lordship seeth the fruits of my 
 
 natural inclination ; and I protest all this time past it was no 
 
 small grief unto me to hear the mouth of so many upon this 
 
 occasion open to load you with innumerable malicious and 
 
 • " Court and Times of James I." 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 65 
 
 distracting speeches, as if no music were more pleasing to my 
 ears than to rail of you : which made me rather regret the ill- 
 nature of mankind, that like dogs love to set upon him that 
 they see once snatched at." * 
 
 It was Buckingham who, now knowing the facts, should 
 have begged pardon of his great friend, but Bacon was profound 
 in his gratitude for the forgiveness of faults of which he was in 
 no way guilty. 
 
 The following letter went to the Favourite : — 
 
 " My ever best Lord, now better than yourself, 
 
 " Your Lordship's pen, or rather, pencil, hath pour- 
 trayed towards me such magnanimity and nobleness and true 
 kindness as methinketh I see the image of some ancient virtues, 
 and not anything of these times. It is the line of my life, and 
 not the lines of my letter, that must express my thankfulness : 
 wherein, if I fail, then God fail me, and make me as miserable as 
 I think myself at this time happy by this reviver, through his 
 Majesty's singular clemency, and your incomparable love and 
 favour. God preserve you, prosper you, and reward you for 
 your kindness to 
 
 " Your raised and infinitely obliged friend and servant, 
 
 "Fr. Bacon, C. S. 
 
 " Sept. 22, 1617 " 
 
 So the breach was healed between Privy Seal and the 
 Favourite. On January 7th, 1618, Bacon was formally appointed 
 as Lord Chancellor, and in July raised to the peerage as Lord 
 Verulam. But the quarrel marked a turning point in the 
 character of one of the parties in this quarrel. Buckingham, 
 who had borne himself with such " singular sweetness " towards 
 the great lords and gentlemen during his progress to high 
 fortune, revealed over this paltry business the mettle of an 
 uncertain temper which would turn him to fierce resentment 
 against one who had served him best. There were others in 
 the Court as well as Bacon who noted these signs of dangerous 
 arrogance. 
 
 The Villiers family and Coke won the game. Lady Hatton, 
 " crazy in body and sick in mind," was threatened with a Royal 
 
 * Spedding's " Life and Letters of Francis Bacon." 
 
66 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 commission to examine her for conspiracy and disobedience, 
 and under such pressure gave her consent to the marriage, and 
 pleaded for forgiveness from the King. Coke was raised again 
 to Royal favour, and sat at the Council Board from which he 
 had been put down. But he paid heavily for the privilege, 
 £30,000 of his fortune being set aside for his daughter's dowry. 
 
 The marriage between John Villiers and Frances Coke took 
 place on the 29th of September, but it was not a merry wedding. 
 The Scottish historian Johnston says that it was celebrated 
 " with gratulation of the fawning courtiers, but stained by the 
 tears of the reluctant bride." Afterwards there were many who 
 remembered the tears and the evil omen of a weeping bride. 
 .For the marriage which had been made in such trouble ended 
 in tragedy. John Villiers, having been raised to the peerage as 
 Viscount Purbeck, became insane in 1620, and was deserted by 
 his wife in 162 1. Three years later, at the instance of Christopher 
 Villiers, Earl of Anglesey, she was arrested on a charge of 
 adultery with Sir Robert Howard, the Earl of Suffolk's son, by 
 whom she had a child. " When," says Chamberlain, in a private 
 letter to his friend Carleton, " she was carried to Sergeant's Inn, 
 to be examined by the new Lord Chief Justice and others, she 
 said she marvelled what those four old cuckolds had to say to 
 her. There is an imputation laid on her that with powder and 
 potion she did intoxicate her husband's brains, and practised 
 somewhat, in that kind, upon the Duke of Buckingham. This 
 they say is confessed by one Lambe, a notorious old rascal." * 
 
 Lady Hatton was not left long in disgrace. Though Coke 
 had paid down handsomely, the Villiers family were anxious for 
 Sir John to get some of his mother-in-law's great wealth, and 
 that could only be obtained by kindness, for she was a strong- 
 willed woman. So on the 1st of November, Buckingham, 
 accompanied by the Marquis of Hamilton, Lord Compton, the 
 gorgeous Hay, Sir Edward Cecil (now the Favourite's favourite), 
 and many other gentlemen in twelve coaches went to fetch 
 Lady Hatton from Sir William Craven's house, where she had 
 been caged, and brought her to Cecil House in the Strand, after 
 which she paid a visit to the Court, where the King gave her 
 his hand in token of forgiveness, and reconciled her to the 
 Queen. Then, playing the part of peacemaker, James patched 
 * Afterwards torn to pieces by the people in the streets of London. 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 67 
 
 up a truce between her and Lady Compton, and between the 
 mother and her poor daughter Frances, who did not believe 
 that she would be forgiven until the King made Lady Hatton 
 swear that she loved her as dearly as ever she did in her life. 
 
 That night there was a great feast at Cecil House, where 
 Buckingham and most of the lords about the Court were enter- 
 tained ; then a few days later Lady Hatton gave a magnificent 
 banquet, at which the King was present, but not Coke her 
 husband, whom she hated as much as ever, and who dined alone 
 at the Temple near by. 
 
 " The King graced her in every way," writes Chamberlain to 
 Carleton, " and made four of her creatures knights. . . . But the 
 principal graces and favours lighted on the Lady Compton and 
 her children, whom the King praised and kissed, and blessed all 
 those that wished them well." In spite of all this reconciliation, 
 however, Lady Hatton kept a tight hold on her money-bags. 
 "She holds her hands," writes Chamberlain again, "and gives 
 not her milk as freely as was expected, which in time may 
 turn the wind about again." * 
 
 After the temporary quarrel between Bacon and Buckingham 
 over the marriage of John Villiers there was a steady and inti- 
 mate friendship J between the Chancellor and the Favourite. 
 Buckingham, though impetuous, and quick in anger when his 
 personal interests were attacked, was not the giddy-pated fool 
 that he has been described in too many histories, which colour 
 their portraits crudely without any psychological discrimination. 
 Bacon found him to be zealous and industrious in the King's 
 service, disinterested in all matters of State which did not 
 affect his personal position, and entirely without a corrupt love 
 of gold, which had made most other favourites a curse to their 
 country. He was glad of the wealth that had come to him, and 
 used it magnificently, but at least he did not demand bribes 
 for every service, and covet other men's money. The Lord 
 Chancellor did not find him unworthy of his confidence in the 
 most secret councils of the State, and he kept him closely 
 informed, and condescended to ask his advice, upon all such 
 high subjects. This was not due entirely to the Favourite's 
 power of patronage. Bacon's ambitions naturally induced him 
 to nurse the favour of the King's right hand, but his intellect 
 * " Court and Times of James I." 
 
68 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 and his patriotism were too lofty to stoop, even for ambition's 
 sake, to base fellows who would betray the interests of the 
 Crown and country. It is therefore some guarantee of Bucking- 
 ham's worthiness that the great Chancellor was, but for that one 
 troublesome episode, his constant and cordial friend. Indeed, 
 in the mass of correspondence between these two great cha- 
 racters, which may still be read, there is something rather noble 
 and elevating in the great courtesy and friendship which find 
 expression in all the letters. Buckingham, it is true, was the 
 man who gained most, though Bacon was not unrewarded for 
 what he gave. The Favourite made use of the Chancellor's 
 office, as the fountain-head of civil justice, to solicit his interest 
 in causes relating to followers of the Villiers family, and Bacon 
 seldom failed to give special attention to such requests. For 
 this both have been severely censured. The enemies of Bacon 
 have accused him of being influenced to pervert the course of 
 justice by his sycophancy to the Favourite ; and Buckingham, 
 more often than Bacon, for he has had fewer friends, has been 
 charged with attempts to corrupt the Chancellor in the interests 
 of flatterers and hangers-on. Both accusations are unjust. 
 There is no proof that Bacon ever pronounced an illegal judg- 
 ment in any case brought forward by his friend, though in some 
 cases he saw fit to revise a decision previously given ; and if 
 one patiently reads through the great number of letters which 
 Buckingham wrote on such matters (mainly uninteresting save 
 as an indication of the writer's character), an unprejudiced mind 
 must admit that he did not ask for dishonest interest, but 
 placed his suit always under the Chancellor's just ruling. 
 
 One or two such letters may suffice to indicate their general 
 tenor. Writing on the 28th of January, 1617, Buckingham 
 says — 
 
 "My Honourable Lord, 
 
 " I have been entreated by a gentleman whom I much 
 respect to recommend to your Lordship's favour Mr. John 
 Huddy, between whom and Mr. Richard Huddy there is, as I 
 am informed, a cause to be heard before your Lordship in the 
 Chancery on Saturday next. My desire unto your Lordship is 
 that you would shew the said John Huddy what favour you 
 lawfully may and as his cause will bear when it cometh before 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 69 
 
 you for my sake, which I will not fail to acknowledge, ever 
 resting, 
 
 " Your Lordship's faithful servant, 
 
 " G. Buckingham " 
 
 On the last day of January Buckingham writes from 
 Newmarket — 
 
 "My Honourable Lord, 
 
 " I have received your Lordship's letters, wherein I 
 see the continuance of your love and respect to me in any thing 
 I write to you of, for which I give your Lordship many thanks, 
 desiring nothing for any man but what you shall find just and 
 convenient to pass. I am very glad to understand that there is 
 so good hope of Sir Gilbert Houghton's business, which I must 
 needs ascribe to your Lordship's great favour toward him for 
 my sake which I will ever acknowledge. If his Majesty at any 
 time speak of the Lord Clifton's business, I will answer accord- 
 ing to that your Lordship hath written. I understand by Jack 
 Butler how bountiful your Lordship hath been to him, for which 
 I thank your Lordship, he being brother to my sister's husband, 
 and besides I account your favour placed upon a thankful youth 
 who speaketh of it to all his friends, which I take well in him 
 that will not smother the benefits bestowed upon him. 
 
 "I am sorry your Lordship maketh an apology for using 
 the liberty (upon such a necessary occasion) of another's hand, 
 which I so often take by reason of my little leisure, and desire 
 your Lordship hereafter to spare yourself more, without tying 
 yourself to that ceremony which I so little deserve." 
 
 In nearly all letters written by Buckingham in this strain he 
 asks for the Chancellor's interest on behalf of plaintiffs, " so far 
 only as the justice of the cause shall require," or as it may be 
 " grounded on equity and reason." There is, therefore, no 
 reason to charge Buckingham with using his influence for dis- 
 honest purposes. The letters, indeed, leave one with an impres- 
 sion of Buckingham's remarkable kindness and generosity. It 
 was no doubt partly through vanity and love of power that he 
 interested himself in the fortunes of all sorts and conditions of 
 people, but it was vanity redeemed by a good heart. Among 
 
70 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 those whose cases he desired to help were such persons as " a 
 merchant of London of whom I have heard a good report ; " 
 two quarrelling brothers Egerton, "whose name and blood 
 should tie together and keep in unity ; " one of the King's 
 grooms, " to whom I wish very well ; " a poor gentlewoman, 
 whose case " deserveth in all appearance much commiseration ; " 
 " two of his Highness's servants, whom he loveth, and whom I 
 wish very well to ; " and " the distress'd case of Lady Martin 
 . . . her poverty being such that having nothing to live on 
 but her husband's debts, if her suit long depend, she shall be 
 enforced to lose her cause for want of means to follow it." * 
 
 These few extracts out of a great correspondence (which 
 proves that Buckingham was no mere idler) was sufficient to 
 show that the Favourite's influence with Bacon was used to pro- 
 mote the interests of many people, from whom Buckingham 
 himself could hope to receive nothing but gratitude. 
 
 On- the 27th October, 1617, shortly before the release of 
 Lady Hatton, Sir Ralph Winwood died, and was buried with 
 much solemn pomp, sincerely mourned by the King, to whom 
 he had been a faithful servant, and by Buckingham, to whom he 
 had been a useful friend. It was, it will be remembered, by his 
 enmity to the Earl of Somerset that the Overbury crime was 
 first dragged to light, and after the ruin of that favourite, which 
 led to the immediate advance of George Villiers, he had had 
 some influence over the new man. A hearty hater of Spain, 
 he had been partly instrumental in gaining Raleigh's release 
 for a voyage which was to end in a disaster, and for his own 
 sake his death perhaps was timely in saving him from sharing 
 Raleigh's final downfall. 
 
 Some reference must be made to this great tragedy, for 
 Buckingham himself had some share in it, and unfortunately an 
 ignoble share. Raleigh had been in the Tower for eleven years 
 after his reprieve from the scaffold, for alleged complicity in the 
 plot to put Arabella Stuart upon the throne, after the death of 
 Elizabeth. " No man but my father," said Prince Henry, who 
 often visited this great Elizabethan, "would keep such a bird 
 in a cage." There he would have pined, no doubt, until his 
 bold and soaring spirit was released at last by death from 
 prison bars, had it not been for the emptiness of the King's 
 * " Letters and Life of Francis Bacon," by James Spedding. 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 71 
 
 Treasury, which made James give ear to any scheme for its 
 replenishment. Raleigh, panting for liberty, yearning to breathe 
 once more the salt air of the open sea, to sail out towards the 
 sun, with a good ship beneath him, on one of those great adven- 
 tures which were now but dreams and memories of his golden 
 age, had such a scheme, wild and fantastic as we now know, 
 but not incredible to men who remembered the voyage of the 
 Golden Hind. In 1595 he had sailed up the Orinoco river, 
 finding auriferous quartz and strange glittering stones, and 
 hearing marvellous stories from native Indians of a city of 
 shining gold, and of a rich territory of gold-mines, called El 
 Dorado. He had not succeeded in reaching this region of 
 untold wealth, but he had seen enough to write his " Discovery 
 of the large, rich and beautiful Empire of Guiana." Now in 
 prison he dreams of El Dorado, and through Sir Ralph 
 Winwood, who hated Spain, he endeavoured to regain his 
 freedom, for a last desperate venture, by dazzling the mind of 
 James with " the glamour of such visions of inexhaustible gold." 
 Villiers at this time was not on the side of the Spanish party, 
 and, inspired by Winwood, he used his influence with the King 
 for Raleigh's release. Greatly tempted, but not without mis- 
 givings, James allowed himself to be persuaded, and upon the 
 condition, the obviously impossible condition, that Raleigh was 
 not to molest the dominion of the King of Spain, the great 
 seaman left his lodgings in the Tower for his last voyage ; a man 
 with a sentence of death still hanging over his head, and know- 
 ing that his life would be the forfeit of failure, but inspired with 
 a desperate hope of success, for which he was ready to dare 
 all things. So in April of 1617 he set sail with a small fleet, 
 manned by some forty gentlemen, and a crew of "the very 
 scum of the world, drunkards and blasphemers," for the great 
 traditions of English seamanship had expired, and Raleigh had 
 stepped out of his prison into a different England. 
 
 He had not sailed before James was scared by his consent 
 to this adventure. To the Spanish Ambassador, Count Gondo- 
 mar, he confessed the object of the voyage, and was bullied by 
 that bold little diplomatist until he trembled before the wrath 
 of Spain. From bullying, Gondomar turned to cajolery, and 
 while Raleigh was sailing westward, the King was induced to 
 believe that an alliance with Spain by means of a match between 
 
72 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 his son and the Infanta would be the easiest means of replenish- 
 ing his treasury. George Villiers was also ensnared by the wily 
 ambassador, and was drawn over to this notion of a Spanish 
 alliance. 
 
 So fortune played against Sir Walter Raleigh, and he sailed 
 to his doom. His secret object had been revealed to his 
 enemies, and when he reached the coast of Guiana, the Spanish 
 Settlements were prepared for his coming. From the first 
 disaster dogged him. His ships were battered by storms, his 
 crews were mutinous, he himself, the soul of this adventure, was 
 stricken down by sickness, and had to entrust the command of 
 the inland expedition to Captain Keymis and his own son, young 
 Walter Raleigh. Fresh tragedies followed. Falling in with a 
 Spanish town, called San Thom6, they attacked it and burnt it. 
 In the fight Raleigh's son was killed, the men got out of hand, 
 and when Keymis returned to his admiral with the news of 
 young Raleigh's tragic fate, and of his failure to find the mines, 
 he was so stricken to the heart by the bitter reproaches of his 
 old chief that he stabbed himself to death. Raleigh, sick in 
 mind and body, endeavoured to lead his men forward again 
 towards the mythical El Dorado, but they had had enough of 
 pestilent swamps and Spanish guns, and refused stubbornly to 
 follow. Then, utterly reckless, Sir Walter bade his men do 
 as Drake's brave fellows had done, to their great glory and 
 good, and to attack the Mexican fleet of plate-ships. This 
 enterprise failed also, for the enemy's fleet had heard rumours 
 of Raleigh's intention, and slipped past him to a safe port. 
 Then a storm arose, scattering and wrecking the English vessels. 
 
 Raleigh came home to Plymouth, knowing that the breeze 
 which filled the sails of the only ship left to him was bearing 
 him steadily to his death. His own kinsman, Sir Lewis Stukely, 
 ever afterwards scorned of men by the name of Sir "Judas" 
 Stukely, was sent down to arrest him and bring him up to 
 London.' He endeavoured to escape to France, but spies 
 betrayed him. Then he feigned illness, or rather made himself- 
 ill by taking some irritant poison. When at last he was brought 
 to the Tower again his great mind was for a time unbalanced, 
 and he said foolish and contradictory things to the spy which 
 James, with infamous craft, sent down to win his' confidence. 
 The Lord Chancellor Bacon, Archbishop Abbot, and Lord Chief 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 73 
 
 Justice Coke, examined him formally and advised the King 
 against bringing him to a new trial, as the sentence of death 
 passed upon him in 1605 was still unrepealed, and could now 
 be executed. 
 
 Count Gondomar, the Spanish ambassador, was loud in his 
 demands for vengeance, and declared that he should be sent to 
 Madrid, there to be tried and killed as a pirate. To the disgrace 
 of George Villiers, who was now heart and soul with Gondomar, 
 he raised his voice to support this outrageous proposition. It 
 is the meanest thing in his life, the only mean and really 
 ungenerous and poor-spirited act of which he may be convicted. 
 One cannot help feeling surprised and disappointed that a man 
 of adventurous instinct as he was should not have been moved 
 by a generous compassion and sympathy for the great Eliza- 
 bethan seaman and gallant gentleman, who had staked his life 
 upon a desperate venture and failed. Raleigh was guilty, it is 
 true, of making war upon the possessions of a friendly power, 
 and from the standpoint of modern international law he cannot 
 be defended. But it was not for Villiers to be pedantic on the 
 punctilio of such an adventure, which had been encouraged by 
 him at the beginning, though he knew as well as Raleigh him- 
 self, and as well as the King, who was not blind, that it would 
 inevitably lead to a conflict with the Spanish colonies. 
 
 The Queen, who had more compassion for Raleigh, wrote 
 a letter on behalf of the unfortunate man, which does credit to 
 her heart, and is another proof of the extraordinary power of 
 Buckingham at Court, the Queen acknowledging that he had 
 more influence with the King than she, his consort. 
 
 "Anne R. 
 
 "My Kind Dog, 
 
 " If I have any power or credit with you, I pray you 
 let me have a triall of it at this time, in dealing sincerely and 
 earnestly with the King, that Sir Walter Raleigh's life may not 
 be called in question. If you do it so that y r success answer 
 my expectation, assure yourself that I will take it extraordinarily 
 kindly at your hands, and rest one that wisheth you well, and 
 desires you to continue still, as you have been, a true servant to 
 your master. 
 
 " To the Marquiss of Buckingham " 
 
74 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 There is no evidence that Villiers was moved by this appeal 
 from Queen Anne, and it is clear that he did not raise one word 
 to save from the block the noble white head of a man who, with 
 all his faults, was one of the most heroic figures in our history, 
 and who now, abandoned by his King and country, died with 
 the cheerful gallantry of a great gentleman. 
 
 Winwood's death and Gondomar's influence completely 
 alienated Buckingham from Elizabethan traditions, and from 
 that time George was drawn into the schemes of those who 
 favoured a Spanish alliance. Winwood's death had another 
 result upon the fortunes of the Favourite. No successor was 
 appointed to his office for a time, and Buckingham became 
 more closely associated with our foreign policy. 
 
 " The King," writes Chamberlain at this time, " said he was 
 never so well served as when he was his own secretary, and to 
 that end had delivered the seals that were belonging to Sir 
 Ralph Winwood to the custody of the Earl of Buckingham, 
 and there perhaps they shall remain till they both grow weary 
 of the trouble." 
 
 When they did grow weary Naunton was made secretary, a 
 man of mediocre ability and insignificant character. 
 
 Power was thrust into the hands of Buckingham, with little 
 trouble on his part to acquire it, and in this way fortune was 
 so extraordinarily on his side that he has been given more credit 
 for subtle diplomacy than is his due. 
 
 Great as he was at Court at this time, he had now many 
 influential enemies, among whom the Howard family were the 
 leaders of a hostile faction. They still held high office, the 
 Duke of Suffolk as Lord Treasurer, the Earl of Nottingham as 
 Lord High Admiral, Sir Thomas Lake, one of their kinsmen 
 (who had first befriended Buckingham), as a Secretary' of State. 
 But now, in 1618, they were swept, one after another, off the 
 stage on which they had played great, but not noble, parts. 
 
 They made one desperate bid to put down the Favourite by 
 bringing to Court a young man named Monson, whom they 
 hoped would attract the King's eyes, as Buckingham's youthful 
 beauty had done. Monson was a son of that Sir Thomas 
 Monson who had been accused of complicity in the murder of 
 Overbury, and was a creature of vile character. But he had 
 good looks, and the Howards, who set him up as a new idol, 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 75 
 
 "took great pains in tricking and pranking him up, besides 
 washing his face every day with posset-curd." * But the plot 
 failed dismally. The King sent him a message that he did not 
 like this forwardness Jin presenting himself continually about 
 him, and that his father and uncle were not long since called in 
 question for matters of no small moment, his own education 
 with such persons being a cause of suspicion, " wherefore," said 
 the Lord Chamberlain, who delivered this blunt reproof, " his 
 majesty willed him from henceforth to forbear his presence ; and 
 if he would follow his advice, he should likewise forbear the 
 court." 
 
 This was a shrewd blow to the hopes of the Howards, and 
 the King showed his continued affection for Buckingham by 
 granting him the lease of the Irish customs, which increased his 
 fortune by at least £2000 a year out of the surplus of the profits. 
 In a more dramatic way than this James did honour to George 
 Villiers and his family. A quarrel on some trivial cause had 
 taken place between " Steenie and Baby Charles " (as the King 
 called these two young men) in the tennis court, and the 
 Favourite had actually lost his temper so much as to hit, or 
 threaten to hit, his prince over the head with a tennis racket. 
 Any other man but Buckingham would have been sent to the 
 Tower for such insolence, but James, like a fond father, made 
 peace between his two " sweete boyes." In token of reconcilia- 
 tion Buckingham entertained the King and Charles to a mag- 
 nificent banquet at Wanstead, on a new estate of great value, 
 which had recently been given to him by James in exchange for 
 land of much inferior worth. It was called "The Friends' Feast," 
 and in the same room where the King and the Prince dined 
 was another board for the lords and ladies, among whom were 
 the Favourite's mother, Lady Compton ; his sister Susan, who 
 had lately married Sir William Fielding, afterwards Earl of 
 Denbigh ; his brother John and his newly married wife ; Lady 
 Hatton, now on terms of truce with the Villiers family, and 
 other members of that race. The King honoured the Favourite's 
 people by drinking to them, not in the bulk, but one after 
 another. Then, with a secret message to Steenie, after the dinner 
 he rose and came to their table " and drank a common health 
 to all the noble family, which he professed he desired to advance 
 
 * Chamberlain to Carleton. 
 
76 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 above all things. ... As for myself," he said, " I live to that 
 end." Then, as if that were not enough, he assured this family 
 of similar favour from his successors, whom he charged to so 
 far regard his commandments as to advance that house above 
 all others whatsoever.* 
 
 To the Howards the news of the feast was ominous. It was 
 followed by the creation of Lady Compton as Countess of 
 Buckingham in her own right, and apart from her husband, who 
 remained " a bare knight," to the great perplexity of the heralds. 
 
 But on the 12th of July, 1618, the heaviest blow fell upon 
 the Howard faction. The Earl of Suffolk, Lord Treasurer, was 
 removed from his office, with an accusation against him and his 
 wife of corrupt practices, his sub-treasurer, Sir John Bingley, 
 being at the same time sent to prison. It has often been 
 asserted, and is popularly believed, that the Earl's removal was 
 due to the malignant rivalry of the Favourite ; but such an 
 authority as Spedding, the editor of Bacon's " Life and Letters," 
 fails to find any evidence worth mentioning that Buckingham 
 took any part in the matter, and is content to believe that 
 Suffolk was dismissed from his place because he had been 
 detected in practices which proved that he was unfit to hold it 
 any longer, and that he acquiesced because he had no justifica- 
 tion to offer. 
 
 Thomas Howard was a man of many great qualities. In 
 Elizabeth's reign he had served his country with great honour, 
 taking a gallant part in the heroic fight against the Spanish 
 Armada, and afterwards leading the attack on the Azores fleet, 
 and commanding the third squadron in the Cadiz expedition. 
 James, who had a personal affection for him, appointed him 
 Lord Chamberlain in 1603, and Lord Treasurer in 1614. His 
 greatest faults were prodigal extravagances, an utter careless- 
 ness of his great duties towards the national exchequer, and an 
 easy conscience in money matters which led him to accept 
 bribes, and to overlook the corrupt practices of his subordinate 
 officials. He was also in the hands of an ambitious and 
 unscrupulous wife, who used her influence over him to sell 
 places and privileges in return for " presents," which swelled her 
 great fortune. Such moral looseness in the highest position of 
 the State was an influence of profoundly evil consequences 
 * Letter from the Rev. Thomas Lorkin to Sir Thomas Puckering, Bart. 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 77 
 
 throughout the whole of the Civil Service, and to Suffolk's 
 weakness, criminal in effect, though not in ambition, was largely 
 due the corruption which infected the Court officials like an 
 unholy plague. 
 
 Buckingham could not have been quite sorry to see the 
 downfall of a man who had always led a hostile faction against 
 him, but at least he behaved like a gentleman to his enemy, 
 and there is no spirit of triumph or contempt in a letter which 
 he wrote to the Earl, giving him private news of the proceedings 
 to be taken against him. This letter was found among the 
 Fortescue Papers, and printed by Mr. Gardiner for the Camden 
 Society. It certainly shows Buckingham in a favourable light 
 towards his great rival : — 
 
 " The care I have to acquit myself according to the profession 
 of friendship toward your Lp. makes me acquaint you at this 
 time with something that fell out concerning you in the time of 
 his M.'s last being at Whitehall. Some two days before his 
 remove from thence, the Lords and other Commissioners for 
 enquiry touching the mis-spending of his treasure repaired to 
 his M. and gave him an account of all their labours, and amongst 
 the rest what they had found against your Lp. and your wife, 
 and in conclusion did all upon their knees beseech his M. to be 
 pleased that both your Lp. and your wife together with Sir John 
 Bingley might be called to the Star-chamber, there to be cen- 
 sured for your misdemeanours in your office. The reasons for 
 which they moved his M. to yeild to this order were two : first 
 for his M.'s own honour who could not otherwise be cleared 
 except by such a public and legal course in regard of his taking 
 the staff from you, and for stopping the mouths of those that 
 reported that your Lp.'s office was taken from you not upon 
 just grounds but only by the partiality of a Court faction. The 
 other reason was that by this legal and public proceeding there 
 might an example be made for securing his M. and his posterity 
 from being ill-served by any that shall exercise that place here- 
 after. But though his M. (as himself told me soon after) dis- 
 puted with them that it had been for his M. honour to grant 
 you first a hearing upon all the points that you were to be 
 charged with before a certain number of Lords before the time 
 that you should be brought to any public trial, his M. alleging 
 
78 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 that many things might appear fouler to them than peradventure 
 they would prove when you should be heard to answer for 
 yourself, and that upon your answer his M. might best discern 
 whether your offences were of so high a nature or not as to 
 make you to be brought to a public trial, yet they all in one 
 voice insisted on the former suit, affirming that to give you first 
 a more private hearing was against all custom in such cases, 
 and that you could object no material thing against that that 
 was to be laid to your charge, because you were accused of 
 nothing that was not proved by oath of divers witnesses and 
 altogether undeniable. So, as though his M., as every one 
 knows, be merciful in his own nature, yet could he not resist 
 this their suit, specially they adding to the former reasons,, 
 that the burden would be upon them as upon partial surmisers 
 and promoters, if the verity of thte their cause were not once 
 publicly cleared, leaving it then to his M.'s mercy to pardon and 
 spare as should please him. 
 
 " I confess my Lord I wish I could acquaint you with better 
 news, but the sooner you be informed of the truth you may the 
 better prepare for it, and bethink you what you would have his 
 M. moved in, and how far ; assuring you that I shall ever faith- 
 fully represent to his M. what your Lp. shall be pleased to 
 employ me in. 
 
 " As to the expiring of their commission it is now expired 
 for so much as may have reference to your Lp. but in some 
 other things which do very much import to his M. service they 
 do yet go on. This my private advertisement to your Lp. I 
 wish may be kept secret to yourself, for I assure you upon my 
 honour never one of my fellow Councillors knows of this letter 
 nor of my acquainting your Lp. privately any ways of this 
 purpose. And so I rest, 
 
 "G. B." 
 
 This charge against the Suffolks and Sir John Bingley 
 dragged on for many months before being decided, and during 
 that time the Queen, who had been suffering from dropsy, died 
 on the 2nd of March, 1619. After her funeral, which Chamber- 
 lain describes as "but a drawling tedious sight more remarkable 
 for number than for any other singularity," her jewels were 
 brought to the King at Greenwich in four carts full of trunks 
 
QUEEN ANNE, CONSORT OF JAMES 1 
 
 FROM THE PAINTING UV I'AUL VAN SOMER IN THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 79 
 
 and cabinets. James pawed over these properties of his dead 
 wife, and bestowed " a reasonable proportion " of them on 
 Buckingham, who had a passion for such glittering gems. He 
 also gave him the tenancy of Denmark House in the Strand, 
 where the Queen had lived during her last years, and another 
 gift of ;£i200 in land. These splendid presents were in recog- 
 nition of the Favourite's tenderness in the King's recent illness, 
 when James himself had been brought very near to death. 
 
 Correspondence passed continually between the Lord Chan- 
 cellor Bacon and the King's Favourite on the progress of the 
 Suffolk's trial, and at last, on the 13th of November, 1619, 
 Buckingham was informed by his friend that sentence had been 
 passed upon the great lord who had held the Treasurer's white 
 staff, and upon his wife and subordinate officer, Sir John 
 Bingley. "My Lord and Lady," writes Bacon, " are fined together 
 at ^30,000, with imprisonment in the Tower at their own 
 charges ; Bingley at ^2000, and committed to the Fleet." In 
 justice to Buckingham it must be said that he did not gloat 
 over the downfall of his old antagonist, and that it was by his 
 friendly interest that Suffolk's punishment was partly remitted, 
 and that though deprived of office he was restored to Royal 
 favour. 
 
 Before this sentence was passed another and less important 
 member of the Howard party had fallen low, not through any 
 malevolence or strategy of George Villiers (though he was the 
 gainer), but owing to the folly of the man himself. This was 
 Sir Thomas Lake, one of the Secretaries of State, who had 
 been one of the greatest toadies of the Howards, and a paid 
 servant of Spain. He had got into great trouble with the King 
 for repeating some of His Majesty's hot words against the 
 Countess of Suffolk to that Lady's husband before the Earl's 
 indictment in the Star Chamber. Throwing himself on his knees 
 before the Favourite, he had offered him a bribe of £15,000 to 
 be restored to favour. Buckingham spurned him, but Lake 
 then appealed to the Favourite's lady mother, and there is 
 reason to believe that she was not so scrupulous, and pocketing 
 the money, induced her son to listen to the Secretary's apology. 
 
 But a heavier blow now fell on the wretched man, and the 
 story of his final disgrace is one of those scandals which unhappily 
 stain the annals of this reign. His daughter had married the 
 
80 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 young nobleman, Lord Roos, grandson and heir of the Earl 
 of Exeter. The marriage was disastrous, and the wife, who was, 
 according to all evidence, a woman of evil and malicious mind, 
 hated her husband. A frightful quarrel broke out between the 
 Lakes and Lord Roos's side of the family, the cause being a 
 dispute over the marriage settlements. The young husband 
 was so terrorized by his wife, and by Sir Thomas and Lady 
 Lake, who threatened to divorce him on a scandalous charge, 
 that he actually flew from the country and took refuge in Rome. 
 But the venom of the Lakes was now turned upon the old Earl 
 of Exeter and his beautiful young wife, who had interfered in 
 the business affairs of the exiled husband. Lady Roos circulated 
 a slander that her young lord had had guilty relations with his 
 grandfather's Countess, and then, excited by a spirit of evil, 
 dared to accuse that lady of having attempted to poison her in 
 order to hide her own guilt. Such an accusation could not be 
 passed, and Lady Exeter appealed to the Star Chamber. The 
 noise of the scandal burst upon the Court, so that nothing else 
 was discussed, and the King himself was determined to investi- 
 gate the truth. The Lakes now made desperate efforts to 
 produce evidence in support of their daughter's tale, and Sir 
 Thomas Lake himself actually imprisoned two men who refused 
 to give false witness. Lady Roos adopted still more criminal 
 means to support her case. She forged a document purporting 
 to be a signed confession by Lady Exeter, and brought forward 
 a maid named Sarah Swarton to swear that she had been con- 
 cealed behind the hangings at Lady Exeter's house at Wimbledon 
 when the Countess acknowledged her guilt. All this evidence 
 was proved to be entirely without foundation, and the last story 
 by Sarah Swarton was shattered by the ingenuity of James 
 himself. He rode over with the waiting woman to Wimbledon 
 and made her stand in the place she had described. To her 
 dismay it was found that the tapestries did not hang down 
 below her knees ! The alleged confession could not possibly 
 have been made in the full view of Sarah Swarton's legs. The 
 end of the case was that Sir Thomas and Lady Lake, and their 
 daughter Lady Roos, were condemned to a heavy fine and 
 imprisonment during the King's pleasure, while Sarah Swarton 
 was to be whipped and branded. Confessions and repentance 
 which followed the judgment mitigated the punishments, but 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 81 
 
 Sir Thomas Lake did not recover his office, and Sir George 
 Calvert, a quiet plodding man, honest and without vaulting 
 ambitions, and a friend of Buckingham's, became Secretary in 
 his stead. 
 
 The rest of the Howards and their dependants were not yet 
 cleared out. The Lord High Admiral of England was Charles 
 Howard, Earl of Nottingham. Like Suffolk, his kinsman, he was 
 utterly without business instincts and a conscience for money 
 matters, which, after all, more than all lofty ideals, are the first 
 principles of true patriotism to those who have charge of the great 
 departments of State. Under his administration the Admiralty 
 was seething with corruption, and the Navy was rotting away. 
 Enormous sums of money allotted from the Treasury for the 
 purposes of harbour works and naval repairs went into the 
 pockets of villainous contractors, and still more villainous 
 officials. It was such a notorious scandal that the King him- 
 self was determined to institute reforms, and a commission was 
 appointed to investigate the administration. 
 
 The most important member of the commission was Lionel 
 Cranfield, a man of humble birth, but of remarkable business 
 genius, who had already proved himself a born economist. He 
 began life as an apprentice in the city, and like many other 
 London apprentices, owed his first rise to a marriage with his 
 master's daughter. He founded a substantial fortune as a 
 merchant, and then, brought to the notice of the Court by the 
 Earl of Northampton, he was appointed Surveyor General of 
 the Customs in 1618. His business training stood him in good 
 stead in this place. His one purpose in life now was to save the 
 King from being cheated by the swarm of rogues and swindlers 
 who fattened on the Royal Treasury, and enriched themselves 
 by every trick of corruption at the expense of national efficiency. 
 With Cranfield in charge of the accounts, these parasites found 
 a master whose shrewd eyes scanned every figure, and whose 
 honesty was unassailable. He effected enormous economies, and 
 by checking the scandalous perquisites of the officials, made an 
 annual saving 0^23,000. For these services he was knighted, 
 and now as a member of the Navy Commission he helped to 
 reveal the appalling waste and inefficiency of the Admiralty. 
 When the Report was presented there was only one thing to 
 do. The Earl of Nottingham must go. Buckingham was 
 
82 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 offered the place of Lord High Admiral, but with a modesty 
 which is rather startling, refused at first to accept the honour, 
 pleading his youth and inexperience. Then the King suggested 
 a compromise — that the Favourite should be associated with 
 the Earl of Nottingham at the head of the Admiralty. But 
 Nottingham himself played into the hands of his rival. His 
 pride was stung, and refusing to share his office, he sent in 
 his resignation. The King accepted it, but solaced the Earl by 
 a pension of £1000 a year, and Buckingham, as a token of his 
 own good will, sent him a present of ^3000. The Favourite was 
 now formally installed as Lord High Admiral of England, with 
 Sir Lionel Cranfield as his right-hand man. 
 
 But Cranfield, who was a wealthy man and now a widower, 
 was not allowed to rise without payment. The Countess of 
 Buckingham, George's mother, thought him an eligible parti 
 for her pretty cousin, Anne Brett. Cranfield for a time resisted 
 the suggestion because he was seriously enamoured with Lady 
 Howard of Effingham, the widow of the late Lord Admiral's 
 eldest son. Apart from the question of Mistress Brett, the idea 
 of such a marriage with one of the Howards was seriously dis- 
 pleasing to Buckingham, and Cranfield was clearly given to 
 understand that he would forfeit his patron's favour if he resisted 
 the proposal and honour of an alliance with the Villiers family. 
 Cranfield was too prudent to be desperate in love, and realizing, 
 as Bacon had done, that Buckingham was most dangerous when 
 his family pride was touched, he gave his hand and fortune to 
 Mistress Anne. 
 
 To Buckingham he was a faithful servant, and in many 
 letters addressed to the Favourite as Lord High Admiral we 
 may see how his consummate mastery over all details of business, 
 his absolute honesty, and his ceaseless industry, reformed the 
 administration of the Admiralty as he had already reformed the 
 King's household, in a spirit of true economy. Buckingham 
 gained the credit, and though the actual work was done by 
 others, the Favourite being perfectly ready to give over all details 
 into the hands of his subordinates provided he received the 
 honour, some share of credit is justly due to him in being 
 on the side of economy and efficiency. Even Gardiner, who 
 usually takes a very severe view of Buckingham's character, 
 does not spare a few words of praise for him during this period 
 
THE FIRST FAVOURITE 83 
 
 of his life : " The Household, the Treasury, the Wardrobe, and 
 the Admiralty had been subjected to sweeping and beneficial 
 reforms. Everywhere retrenchment had been carried out under 
 the influence and with the co-operation of Buckingham." * 
 
 These words by his sternest judge are comforting to those 
 who are attracted by the many charming and generous qualities 
 of the man, without being blind to his faults. The student of 
 this brilliant career must also take into account the enormous 
 temptations that surrounded him, temptations by which even 
 the strongest and noblest character might have been reduced. 
 Raised quickly to his most dizzy height of power without any 
 of that painful probation, that slow apprenticeship, that self- 
 discipline and accumulated experience by which most men gain 
 the prizes of life, Villiers, still a young man, and with im- 
 petuous blood, was an uncrowned king, holding at his disposal 
 the King's gifts of places and patronage, yet unbound by the 
 responsibilities, and untaught in the traditions, of kingship. 
 His enemies had been scattered before him. The Howards, 
 greatest in rank and pride and power, and his most formidable 
 rivals, had by their own follies been swept from his path, and 
 he strode forward in dazzling magnificence, unopposed and 
 unassailable. Conscious that he was an adventurer, whose uplift- 
 ing, above all hereditary rank and wealth, had depended solely 
 upon his personal charms, he may well have been amazed by 
 this prodigious power of his own personality, and done homage 
 to his own person. His nature tempted him into excess of vanity. 
 His position tempted him to pride and absolute egoism. His 
 place at the King's right hand, as the acknowledged patron 
 through whom all office and gifts could alone be gained, was a 
 continual temptation of quite devilish ingenuity for the destruc- 
 tion of a weak man's soul. So many of his predecessors had 
 succumbed. Men whose training should have fitted them to 
 fill high offices with clean hands, had dipped them deep in the 
 slime of corruption. Great lords, not created suddenly by the 
 smile of a doting King, but born to their places, and with a 
 long roll-call of noble names behind them, had had their sense 
 of honour soiled and debased, taking and not resisting their 
 opportunities for venal sin. Yet George Villiers, the young 
 adventurer, this light butterfly of court sunshine, put those 
 * " History of England," vol. iii. p. 207. 
 
84 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 other men to shame. The temptation of vanity he could not 
 thrust back. It took possession of his blood and brain, and the 
 homage given to his charms and splendour was as the breath 
 of his nostrils. But, at least, he avoided and was not over- 
 powered by the stench of corruption and the hypnotizing 
 influence of bribe-money which had been the curse of King 
 James's Court. His house was besieged by flatterers, and he 
 sunned himself in their flattery, but did not take their gold. 
 They were eager to pay their way, believing it to be the only 
 way, to coveted places. He used his influence on their behalf, 
 and startled them by taking no wages. Sometimes, it is true, 
 his influence was used for unworthy creatures. Two men, 
 Heath and Shute, whom he foisted into legal offices, with a 
 determination that tore down all opposition, were notorious 
 scoundrels, so that James himself protested against their 
 appointments. Yet even in such cases as this his vanity was 
 at fault, and he was not venal. And, on the whole, his favours 
 were given to good men. Cranfield, with whom he had nothing 
 in common, was the right man in the right place, and if Villiers 
 himself did nothing worthy of the name of statesmanship or 
 state economy, at least he encouraged honest service, and was 
 on the side of economy, efficiency, and reform. For a man of 
 his temperament and position, that was both remarkable and 
 admirable, and remembering how easily he might have plunged 
 deep into infamy, how many thousand chances there were that 
 a Favourite should enrich himself illegally, beyond all the gifts 
 of his master, we can, without exalting him with heroic virtue, 
 give a great measure of credit to " dogge Steenie." 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 BUCKINGHAM'S HOME LIFE 
 
 WE have seen how when George Villiers came to Court he 
 quickly became enamoured of the daughter of Sir Roger 
 Aston, Master of the Robes, but was persuaded to leave the 
 lady whose fortune was then as insubstantial as his own, which 
 rested only on good hopes. If it were necessary to make 
 Villiers a hero, that would be a blow to his gallantry in ladies' 
 eyes, who can pardon many things save infidelity in love. But 
 Villiers was no hero, and whitewash would never make him one. 
 It is more than probable that Sir Roger's daughter was not the 
 only one to attract his bold eyes, which, if we may believe all 
 tales, roved wantonly among the ladies of King James's Court. 
 Arthur Wilson must always be suspected as a scavenger of 
 scandal, but there is, in all likelihood, some truth in his 
 accusation against the Favourite regarding his relations with 
 women. 
 
 " For the Marquess himself," he says, " as he was a man of 
 excellent symmetry and proportion of parts, so he affected 
 beauty where he found it ; but yet he looks upon the whole race 
 of women as inferior things, and uses them as if the sex were 
 one ; best pleased with all : and if his eyes call'd out a wanton 
 beauty he had his Setter that could spread his Nets and point 
 a meeting at some Ladie's House where he should come (as by 
 accident) and find accesses while all his Train attended at the 
 dore as if it were an honourable visit." 
 
 The morality of the time was so loose in this respect that 
 men, otherwise of the noblest character, allowed themselves a 
 large license in amorous adventures. Pembroke, acknowledged 
 by all his contemporaries as the greatest of English gentlemen, 
 was very guilty towards women, and Arundel, Oxford, Hay, 
 
 85 
 
86 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 and the best gentlemen of the Court, were all too easily made 
 captive by languishing glances, and too careless of the sanctity 
 of womanhood. 
 
 If Villiers sinned — and the woman who was afterwards his 
 wife protested sadly that he loved other women too well — he 
 was not worse than most men of his rank and time. This does 
 not give him absolution, but to be fair to any historical cha- 
 racters it is necessary to get back to the prevailing code of 
 morals under which they lived. One cannot judge the Court of 
 James by the standard of the London County Council. 
 
 It was good for George Villiers that, six years after his 
 coming to Court, he married a pure and noble-hearted woman, 
 who sweetened his life, and gave some stability to his errant 
 nature by tender domestic ties. Doubtless in his first proposals 
 for the hand of Katharine Manners, daughter of the Earl of 
 Rutland, George was moved mainly by ambition. Of romantic 
 love there was more than enough in the days of the Stuarts, but 
 it was kept generally for light adventures, and marriage itself 
 was in most cases a matter of strict business, in which there was 
 weighing of money-bags on both sides, and much haggling over 
 the body of the bride. Villiers, as the King's Favourite, desired 
 a wealthy wife, and Katharine was the richest heiress in the 
 country. But with this inducement it is not difficult for a man 
 of heart to love a beautiful and sweet-natured girl, and there is 
 not a shadow of doubt that after the wedding, if not before, the 
 Earl of Buckingham had a very ardent affection for the Lady 
 Kate. She, poor girl, was, it seems, desperately in love with 
 this handsome gentleman as soon as he came courting her — so 
 much in love that she was ready to brave the anger of her 
 father, and, what must have been more terrible to her, to give 
 up communion with the Catholic Church, in order to gain this 
 splendid fellow, who was so shining in his beauty and magnifi- 
 cence, and whose words were so winning and so melting to a 
 maid's heart. 
 
 The course of love was not smooth. The Earl of Rutland 
 did not favour my lord of Buckingham. The Manners family 
 was of long ancestry, and their wealth was prodigious. This 
 Villiers, though there was nothing to say against his name, 
 must have seemed to the proud earl an upstart fellow, and an 
 adventurer raised by a king's folly to a height from which he 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S HOME LIFE 81 
 
 might topple as suddenly. Above all, he was not of the old 
 faith, and the Rutlands were staunch in their allegiance to the 
 Catholic Church. 
 
 This was a difficulty. Villiers himself had no natural or 
 intellectual prejudice against the Catholic faith. There were 
 times in his life when it seems that he was drawn towards it, 
 for in its ritual and poetry and colour there was an appeal to a 
 man of his imaginative temperament, who was untouched by 
 the colder dogma of Protestantism, but, in some moods, might 
 at a burning word have gone down on his knees at the foot of 
 the Cross and prayed for strength against the weakness of his 
 flesh. He had such moments of self-abasement, so Bishop 
 Goodman says. But James, though very complaisant in many 
 things, had certain fixed principles which he held to with abso- 
 lute conviction beyond argument or persuasion. He was the 
 head of the English Church, and though for State reasons he 
 was willing to favour the marriage of his son upon certain con- 
 ditions to a Catholic princess, desiring by this means to bring 
 peace to Europe, and, as a selfish motive, to replenish an ex- 
 hausted treasury, he was stubborn in his refusal to permit his 
 Favourite, who had no such reasons of State expediency, to give 
 his hand to a lady of a faith which was a penal offence in 
 English law. 
 
 So there was a deadlock. The Earl of Rutland was a 
 stubborn " recusant," and refused Buckingham's suit for his 
 daughter's hand, and Buckingham dared not thwart his master 
 so flagrantly. 
 
 But there was a friend of the Favourite who, believing in his 
 powers of persuasion, saw a great opportunity for advancement 
 under Buckingham's powerful patronage by breaking down the 
 obstacles in the way of this marriage. This was John Williams, 
 Dean of Salisbury, and afterwards of Westminster, and then, 
 getting his reward, Bishop of Lincoln and Lord Keeper of the 
 Privy Seal. He was a man of smooth tongue and diplomatic 
 ability, a courtier by instinct and natural gifts, and in religious 
 temperament what would now be called a Broad Churchman, 
 not believing overmuch in set forms of dogma, but anxious to 
 conciliate the Catholics on the one hand, and the Puritans on 
 the other, by finding a middle- way and a doctrinal compromise. 
 Gardiner is severe with him, and calls him of the earth, earthy. 
 
88 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 " The existence of any firm belief, either religious or political, 
 was altogether incomprehensible to him, and, after years of 
 experience, he dashed himself to pieces against the persistent 
 single-mindedness of Laud, and the no less persistent single- 
 mindedness of the Puritans of the Long Parliament, as a bird 
 dashes itself against a window-pane from very ignorance that it 
 is there." Perhaps, on the other hand, in his principles of 
 toleration he was in advance of his age. 
 
 Using his friendship with the Earl of Rutland to confer 
 privately with his daughter, he used many subtle arguments to 
 seduce the Lady Katharine from the faith in which she had 
 been brought up. He pointed out how in all cardinal founda- 
 tions of belief there was no great difference between the Roman 
 and the English Church, how beautiful was the English Cate- 
 chism, how very excellent and reasonable the marriage service. 
 We do not know how far these arguments really prevailed with 
 Katharine Manners, but love was stronger than theology. Then 
 the Earl of Rutland, by his own impetuous temper, and by a 
 violence of anger, played into the hands of Buckingham. 
 Deeply annoyed at the possibility of his daughter changing her 
 faith, he came home one day to find that she had left the house 
 in the morning with the Countess of Buckingham, and had not 
 returned at night. Black suspicion brooded in his heart. It 
 seemed to the Earl that attempts had been made not only to 
 pervert Katharine's faith, but that she had been tempted to 
 sacrifice her honour. Buckingham's reputation was an enemy 
 to him, and the Earl of Rutland might well think that such an 
 adventurer would stop at nothing to satisfy his passionate, as 
 well as his pecuniary, desires. The truth was that Katharine 
 had been taken ill, and had been kept by Lady Buckingham in 
 her own rooms. But the father, maddened at what he thought 
 was his daughter's dishonour, listened to no arguments, refused 
 to take Katharine back again, and vented a violent storm of 
 abuse upon Buckingham's head. A duel was only averted by 
 the intervention of the Prince of Wales. Then, in a cooler 
 temper outwardly, though still seething with anger, Rutland 
 wrote a letter to Buckingham, in which he said that he would 
 forgive what had happened if he could be assured that his 
 daughter's honour would be safe, for, he said, "although she 
 deserves not so great a care from a father whom she so little 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S HOME LIFE 89 
 
 esteems, yet I must preserve her honour, if it were with hazard 
 of my life." * 
 
 Then he laid down his conditions for forgiveness — 
 " The issue I require, which your lordship desires to know, 
 is that I may by some course be assured she is yours, and then 
 you shall find me tractable to deal like a loving father ; although 
 she is not worthy in respect of her neglect to me, yet it being 
 once done, her love and due respects to your lordship shall 
 make me forget that which I confess I am now too sensible of ; 
 and I hope your lordship will not guess nor imagine of me other 
 than as one that, if it be not your fault, you have as great an 
 interest in as in any man, and she shall not make her yours 
 sooner than I will receive her again. To conclude, my lord, 
 this is my resolution : if my conscience may not be fully satisfied 
 she is yours, take your own courses : I must take mine, and I 
 hope I shall arm myself with patience, and not with rage. Your 
 lordship shall ever find I will be as careful of your own honour 
 as I must be tender of mine own." 
 
 Buckingham was not the man to read such a letter patiently. 
 The hot-tempered Earl, unjustly suspicious of both his daughter's 
 and her lover's honour, put himself into a ridiculous position, 
 and Buckingham answered him with haughty indifference, 
 threatening him with the very thing he most dreaded, the 
 abandonment of his daughter. 
 
 " My LORD " (he wrote), 
 
 "Your mistaking in your fashion of dealing with a 
 free and honest heart, together with your froward carriage 
 towards your own daughter, enforced me the other day to post 
 to Hampton Court, and then cast myself at his Majesty's feet, 
 confessing freely unto him all that ever hath passed in privacy 
 between your lordship and me concerning your daughter's 
 marriage, lest otherwise by this your public miscarriage of the 
 business it might by other means to my disadvantage 'a 
 come to his knowledge. And now that I have obtained my 
 master's pardon, for this my first fault, by concealing and going 
 further in any thing than his Majesty was acquainted with, I 
 can delay no longer of declaring unto you how unkindly I take 
 your harsh usage of me and your daughter, which hath wrought 
 * Bishop Goodman's " Memoirs." 
 
90 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 this effect in me ; that, since you esteem so little of my friend- 
 ship and her honor, I must now, contrary to my former reso- 
 lution, leave off the pursuit of that alliance any more, putting it 
 in your free choice to bestow her elsewhere to your best comfort ; 
 for whose fortune it shall ever be to have her, I will constantly 
 propose that she never received any blemish in her honor but 
 that which came by your own tongue. It is true I never thought 
 before to have seen the time that I should need to come 
 within the compass of the law by stealing of a wife against the 
 consent of the parents ; considering of the favor that it pleaseth 
 his Majesty, though undeservedly, to bestow upon me. So, 
 leaving this to you and your wife's censure, I rest, 
 
 " Your lordship's servant, 
 
 " G. Buckingham " * 
 
 To the King Buckingham made a jest of the whole matter, 
 and he could afford to do so, however seriously he had set his 
 heart on Katharine Manners, because the Earl of Rutland by 
 his angry conduct had put himself into the Favourite's hands. 
 By his accusation against his daughter's virtue he had made it 
 impossible to thwart her marriage. This took place, therefore, 
 on May 16, 1620, the bride having previously received Com- 
 munion according to the rites of the English Church. Owing 
 to the quarrel it was celebrated quietly, Dr. Williams officiating, 
 and only the King and Rutland attending the ceremony. As 
 a reward for his services, Williams was made Dean of West- 
 minster, as a step to still higher dignity. 
 
 The reconciliation between the two Earls seems to have 
 lasted in all sincerity, and there is no record of any further 
 quarrel between Rutland and his son-in-law. As to the husband 
 and wife, it might almost be said that their domestic happiness 
 was a model for all others at the Court of James. Katharine 
 Manners, now " Kate " Buckingham, had the good fortune to 
 believe her husband to be one of the best and noblest men. 
 Historians have censured him, his enemies have heaped slander 
 upon him, and it is a fashion now to sneer at him, but the sweet 
 lady who shared his bed, who knew his weaknesses, and could 
 pardon them, was grateful always for her happiness in being 
 married to a man who was kind and generous, and very full of 
 * Bishop Goodman's " Memoirs." 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S HOME LIFE 91 
 
 love for her, whose genius (poor " dogge Steenie ! ") she revered, 
 who seemed to her, beyond all men, greatly gifted with noble 
 qualities. In her letters to him when he was abroad, some of 
 which will be quoted later in this book, she gave expression to 
 these fond beliefs, and poured out upon the paper the full 
 measure of her love and tenderness towards him, pining in his 
 absence like some flower deprived of the sun, praying for the 
 return of her dear lord, and telling him, between her tears, the 
 news of the home-life which she knew he longed to know. 
 There are few more beautiful letters in biography than those of 
 the Lady Katharine to Buckingham, and they reveal her as 
 a very sweet woman and tender wife. In course of time a 
 daughter, Mary, was born to them, called by the pet name of 
 " Little Mall," and it is a delightful trait in the character of 
 Buckingham that he would often take this little girl with him 
 when he went visiting great lords, and was not ashamed of his 
 fondness as a father. When Katharine gave him a boy he was 
 also very proud, and the letters that were written by the husband 
 and wife to the King, with whom Kate Buckingham was soon 
 as much a favourite as George, often contain affectionate 
 allusions to the baby children. 
 
 " Kate gives you manie humble thanks for all your favours," 
 writes Buckingham at the foot of one letter. " Mine I reserve 
 till I have the happiness to see you. Kate begins to make use 
 of Mai's tongue, for she had made Mall so importunate with me 
 to stay, that if necessitie had not commanded me, hardlie could 
 I refuse her." 
 
 And again, in a postscript — 
 
 "Both Kate, Mall and I, humblie thank the good man and 
 pourveir for his present of all kinds." 
 
 In 1619, Buckingham, who till then had been living at 
 Whitehall and other Royal residences, began to look out for a 
 home of his own. Chamberlain, writing to Carleton, says : 
 " The Marquis would fain settle himself hereabout, and is much 
 in love with Bedington near Croydon, having won the King, 
 Prince, and divers others, to move Sir Nicholas Carew about it. 
 But it seems he will not be removed, by reason his uncle 
 bestowed it so frankly upon him with purpose to continue his 
 memory there." * Buckingham finally bought from the Earl of 
 * "Court and Times of James I." 
 
92 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Suffolk, the former Lord Treasurer, the noble mansion and 
 park of New Hall in Essex, and it was his great pleasure to 
 get away for a time from the Court and the crowd of place- 
 seekers to superintend the planning of the grounds, and to be 
 busy with the gentle art of gardening, in which his friend the 
 Lord Chancellor Bacon was a good counsellor. To the King, 
 who was loth to spare him, he wrote many letters, in which, 
 with an adulation that seems too sycophantic to modern readers 
 (though it was then customary language), he excuses himself 
 for his absence, and describes the progress of work on his new 
 estate. One excuse for such holidays from his duties as favourite 
 was the ill health from which he seems to have suffered rather 
 frequently. 
 
 " Dear Dad and Gossope " (he writes), 
 
 " Though I ame yett but weake, and though it may 
 offend you, as it doth my secretarie, yett, in despite of you both, 
 I must have leave now and then to write with my one hand. 
 I ame verie sorie for this new vaine you have taken of cousing 
 of stags, but ame much rejoyced that you attribute so much to 
 my goode lucke, as to thinke, if I were there, your ill fortune 
 would alter ; for which caus, to pleas you, and manie more to 
 please myselfe, I will make all the "hast my weaknes will give 
 me leave. I thanke God my grudgings have left me againe, 
 but the hines of my urine, with the yallownes of my skin, 
 betokens a yellow janders, which will be no greate matter to cure, 
 if it prove so. I must end with this paper fo I protest I ame 
 faintish, which is another betokener of that dres I spoke of ; but 
 before I end, I must beseech you to present my humblest service 
 to your sweete babie Charles ; and so I crave your blessing, 
 " Your Maty, humble Slave and Doge, 
 
 " Steenie " 
 
 The following letters, which seem to have been written 
 during another spell of ill health, are interesting as showing the 
 strange mixture of adoration and familiarity with which the 
 Favourite addressed his Sovereign : — 
 
 "Dere Dad and Gossope, 
 
 "Though I have reseved three or four letters from 
 you since that I writt last to you, yett, as Thorn. Bagger says, 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S HOME LIFE 93 
 
 I am not behindhand with you, for I have made a hundred 
 answers to them in my minde, yett none that could satisfie my 
 minde, for kinder letters never servant reseved from master, and 
 for so great a Kinge to desend so loe, as to his humblest slave 
 and servant to communicate himself in a stile of such good 
 fellowship, with expressions of more care than servants have of 
 master, then fesitions have of their patients, which hath largelie 
 appered to me in sicknes and in helth ; of more tendernes than 
 fathers have of children ; of more friendship than between 
 equals, of more affection than between lovers in the best kind, 
 man and wife; what can I return? Nothing but silence, for, 
 if I speake, I must be sausie, and say thus, or short of what is 
 due my pourvier, — my good fellow, my phesition, my maker, 
 my frend, my father, my all, I hartelie and humblie thank you 
 for all you doe, and all I have. Judge what unequall langage 
 this is in it selfe, but espetiallie consideringe the thinge that 
 must speak it, and the person to whom it must be spoken. 
 Now, tell me whether I have not done discreetlie to be silent 
 all this while, it's time I should be soe againe, or else commit 
 a fait, in wering him that never weries to doe me good ; then 
 thus Tie end, — I begine my journie to-morrow. I shall have 
 the Prince to waite of. We shall lie at Theobal's, the one will 
 hunt hinds and does, the other survaie the trees, walkes, ponds 
 and dere ; the next day after laye ourselves at your feet, there 
 crave your blessing, then give an account of Theobas Parke to 
 the best of man, though not of the kynd of man yett made by 
 man, more then man, like a man, both arteficiall man, and 
 my most naturall souveraine, who by innumerable favors, hath 
 made me, 
 
 " Your Mat. both humble slave & doge, 
 
 "Stinie" 
 
 "Dere Dad and Gossope, 
 
 "As necessetie inforces me, instede of repareing to 
 you according to your command, and my promis, to goe manie 
 miles from you another way, and, consequentlie from myselfe, 
 all my perfect joys and plesures cheeflie, nay, solie consisting in 
 attending your person, so me thinkes dutie and good manners 
 commands me on the other part, to give you an account under 
 my one hand, though it be yett something unstedie and weeake ; 
 
94 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 but before I give the resons of the change of my former resolu- 
 tion, there is a thinge not much in exercise now in this world 
 called thankefullnes, that caulls so fast and so ernestlie upon 
 me, that I must first, though I have allredie done it by the 
 assistance of a yonge nobleman cauld Babie Charles, whome 
 you likewise, by your good ofhses, made my frend, whome, 
 without all dout, hath alredie perfectlier made my thankes then 
 I shall myselfe, yet haveing the pen in my hand, I must needs 
 tell you what I observe in your late absent and publicke favor, 
 but antiant manner of obligeing your poure unworthie servant ; 
 whereby I find you still one and the same dere and indulgent 
 master you were ever to me, never being contented to overvalue 
 and love me yourself, but to labor all maner of ways to make 
 the whole world doe soe tow ; besids, this asseures me you 
 trust me as absolutelie as ever, largelie exprest in this, that 
 you have no consete of my popularitie, otherwis whie should 
 you thus study to indere me with the upper and loer House of 
 Parlement, and so consequentlie, with your whole kingdome ; 
 all and the] least I can say is this, that I naturallie so love your 
 person, and upon so good experience and knowledge adore all 
 your other parts, which are more than one man ever had, that 
 were not onelie all your people, but all the world besids, sett 
 together on one side, and you alone on the other, I should to 
 obey and please you, displeas, nay, despise all them, & this 
 shall be ever my popularitie. Give me leave here to use your 
 one proverbe, for this the Divill cone me thankes, the resons of 
 my going to Newhall are these : — First, I find business & the 
 sight of busie folkes does me much harme, and though your 
 extreordinary care and watchfull eie over me would keepe them 
 from speaking with me, yett, in a Court, I must needs louke 
 manie of theme in the face. Then Thebal's hous is now verie 
 hot, and hath bit few chang of romes, both inconvenient to a 
 sick bodie ; then my Lord of Warwicke tells me, that by expe- 
 rience he hath found Newhall are as good a one to ride away 
 an ague as anie in England, and that latelie he lost one by the 
 benefit of that are, I mene nere hand, which, I thinke, will be 
 all one. By this time, I fere I have troubled you, and were it 
 not that I write to you, I ame sure I should have weried myselfe. 
 I have now onelie one request to you, as you first planted me 
 in your Babie Charleses good opinion, if you thinke it fitt for 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S HOME LIFE 95 
 
 your service, in my absence continue me in it and so give me 
 your blessing. 
 
 " Your Ma tle . humble slave & dogge, 
 
 "Stinie" 
 
 "Dere Dad and Gossope, 
 
 " I have bine the longer in writing, that I might send 
 you certain word, when I should be able to waite of you. I 
 fear before Wensday I shall not be able to get out of this 
 beselie toune. All the pleasure I have in it is, when I think 
 how well you have gott to Royston. I hope your next will 
 assure me of the like to New Markett. I hate myselfe for 
 forgetting to crave a blessing. I humbly thanke you for chiding 
 me that I asked none, and lett not him be so puniched as to be 
 now refused a double one, who craves it with double bended 
 kneenes, but a single intire, humble, and cherefull well contented 
 hart, and so I crave your blessing againe, becaus you are not 
 werie of giveing to him thats your Maty. 
 
 " Most humble Slave and Doge, 
 
 " Stinie 
 
 " All is well with Kate and Mall. I have playde six setts 
 att mane with Sir John Ayres,* and trewlie its a verie hard 
 
 * The name of Sir John Ayres will be remembered by all who have read and 
 re-read the fascinating memoirs of Lord Herbert of Cherbury, for it was with this 
 knight that the valiant little Welshman fought his amazing duel in Whitehall. The 
 Knight's jealousy was aroused because he found upon his wife's breast a miniature 
 portrait of Lord Herbert which she had had copied without the knowledge of the 
 gallant nobleman. Warning was given to Herbert that Sir John Ayres intended to 
 kill him in his bed, but he disregarded it, and sent word to the Knight that although 
 he knew no cause of quarrel he was willing to meet him " in a fair and noble way." 
 
 "After this," says Herbert, "finding he could take no advantage against me, 
 then, in a treacherous way, he resolved to assassinate me in this manner. Hearing 
 I was to come to Whitehall on horseback, with two lackeys only, he attended my 
 coming back in a place called Scotland Yard, at the hither end of Whitehall, as you 
 come to it from the Strand, hiding himself here with four men armed, on purpose to 
 kill me. 
 
 " I took horse at Whitehall Gate, and passing by that place, he being armed with 
 a sword and dagger, without giving me so much as the least warning, ran at me 
 furiously, but instead of me, wounded my horse in the brisket, as far as his sword 
 could enter for the bone. My horse hereupon starting aside, he ran him again in 
 the shoulder, which, though it made the horse more timorous, yet gave me time to 
 draw my sword. His men thereupon encompassed me, and wounded my horse in 
 three places more ; this made my horse kick and fling in that manner as his men 
 durst not come near me ; which advantage I took to strike at Sir John Ayres with 
 
96 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 mach. What shall I do then with him that eats could custerd 
 with bungelers ? " 
 
 "Dear Dad and Gossope, 
 
 "I shall make you wonder att a resolution I have 
 taken never to inquier more after your helth ; you can bare me 
 wittnes, that I have never given creditt to those that undertake 
 to have the felosifers stone, espetiallie when they becom takers 
 themselvs, as my divill hath now proved him self. If he bloe 
 as profitablelie with all the world besides as he hath done with 
 me, he shall have little need of the felosephers stone ; yett if 
 all be trew, he hath assewred to me, I shall thinke my four 
 hundred pound well bestoed. I confess so longe as he conceled 
 the means he wrought by, I despised all he said, but when he 
 tould me that which he hath given your sowverainship to 
 preserve you from all sicknes, evere hereafter, was extracted 
 out of a towed I admired the fellow, and for thees resons, that 
 being a stranger to you, yett he had found out the kind you 
 are come of, and your naturall affections and apetit, and so, like 
 a skillfull man, hath given you naturall fisicke, which is the 
 onelie meanes to preserve the radicall hmer (humour) and thus 
 I conclude my son is helthfull, and my divills luckie, my selfe 
 is happie, and neds no more than your blessing, which is my 
 trew felosophers stone, upon which I build as on a rock. 
 " Your Mat. most humble Slave and Doge, 
 
 " Stinie 
 
 " Here is a gentle man cauld Sir Frances Leake, who hath 
 likewis a foulosephers stone, its worth but aight thowsand, he 
 will give it me, if you will make him a Baron. I will, if you 
 command not the contrairie, have his patent redie for you to 
 
 all my force, but he warded the blow both with his sword and dagger ; instead 6f 
 doing him harm, I broke my sword within a foot of the hilt. Hereupon some 
 passenger that knew me, and observing my horse bleeding in so many places, and 
 so many men assaulting me, and my sword broken, cried to me several times, ' Ride 
 away, ride away ; ' but I, scorning a base flight upon what terms soever, instead 
 thereof, alighted as well as I could from my horse." 
 
 Sir John Ayres and his men now set on Lord Herbert, but in spite of being armed 
 with but half a sword, he defended himself so strenuously that he beat off his assailants, 
 wounding Sir John in four places and nearly cutting off his hand. The narrative of 
 this duel by the hero of it is the finest piece of heroic braggadocio in the English 
 language. 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S HOME LIFE 97 
 
 sine when I come doune, he is of good religion, well borne, and 
 hath a good estate. I pray you burne this letter." 
 
 The Duke and Duchess often wrote joint letters expressing 
 their thanks to the King for his favours, as in the following : — 
 
 "Dere Dad and Gossope, 
 
 "Though you commanded me to right no answer, 
 yett, sences I should not a sleept well this night except I had 
 don it ; I hope you will excuse my disobaying of you at this 
 time. I have bine the longer a doing of it, because I might 
 send you the certaner nuse of my health, which at this tim is so 
 good, what with your swett cordiall and my seasonable drawing 
 of blude, that I hope to-moroe to wayt of" you a perfect man. 
 I hope you will not be put to much payns to reede this hand, 
 sencs you have received so many love letters from her who 
 joynes with me in humble thanks for your kines and care of us 
 both. So craving your blessing, we end 
 
 "Your Ma? : most humble Slaves, 
 
 "Kate. Stine" 
 
 Whenever " Dogge Steenie " was away from Court the King 
 did not fail to send frequent presents of fruit and flowers and 
 game to his Favourite, and the letters of Buckingham and his 
 wife contain " a million thanks " to their " old purveyor " and to 
 their "dear dad," as they called His Majesty, for his "good 
 mellons and peres," for " two boxes of dried plums and grapes, 
 and the box of violet cakes and chickens," and other gifts. In 
 one letter Buckingham writes : " The sense and thankfulness of 
 my heart for your excellent melons, pears, sugared beans, and 
 assurance of better fruit planted in your bosom than ever grew 
 in paradise, will best appear in my humble obedience of your 
 commands." The conclusion of this letter which spreads out 
 in high-flown phrases of devotion is very characteristic of 
 Buckingham's style of correspondence. 
 
 "My stags," he writes, "are all lusty, my calf bold, and 
 others are so too ; my Spanish colts are fat, and so is my jovial 
 filly. Mall [little Lady Mary] great Mall [Mary Countess of 
 Buckingham] Kate [his wife] Sue [his sister Susan] and Steenie 
 shall all wait on you on Saturday, and kiss both James' and 
 
98 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Charles' feet. To conclude let this paper assure you, that the 
 last words I spoke to you are so true, that I will not only give 
 my word, sware to you on the Holy Evangelists, but take the 
 blessed Sacrament upon them. So craving your blessing, I 
 rest, 
 
 " Your Majestie's most humble slave and dogge, 
 
 " Stinie " 
 " P.S. — Baby Charles, I kiss thy warty hands." 
 
 To such letters James replied with equal affection to his 
 " humble slave," and " sweet Tom Badger," as he also called his 
 Favourite, and in a style that encouraged Buckingham's 
 familiarity. The following will serve as a specimen : — 
 
 " Sweet hearty blessing, blessing, blessing, on my sweet Tom 
 Badger, and all his, for breeding me so fine a kennel of young 
 hounds, some of them so fair and well-shaped, and some of 
 them so fine pretty little ones, as they are worthy to lie on 
 Steenie and Kate's bed : and all of them run together in a 
 lump ; and God thank the Master of the Horse, for providing 
 me such a number of fair useful horses, fit for any hand : in a 
 word, I protest I was never master of such horses and hounds ; 
 the bearer will tell you what fine running we had yesterday. 
 Remember now to take the air discreetly, and for God's sake 
 and mine, keep thyself very warm, especially thy head and 
 shoulders ; put thy park of Bewlie to an end, and love me still 
 and still, and so God bless thee and my sweet daughter and 
 Goddaughter, to the comfort of thy dear dad. 
 
 " James R. 
 
 " Thy old purveyor sent thee yesternight six partridges and 
 two leverets. I am going to hawk the pheasant." 
 
 We have seen how James publicly proclaimed his affection 
 for the whole Villiers family, but there was one among them 
 who presumed too far upon his favour, and caused him great 
 annoyance. This was the Countess of Buckingham, the 
 Favourite's mother. She seems to have been a woman of some 
 intellect and strength of character, and had great influence over 
 her children. But her ambition and greediness for wealth and 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S HOME LIFE 99 
 
 power were beyond all bounds. Some of her match-making 
 schemes have already been described, and by obtaining rich 
 brides for her sons, and a wealthy husband for her daughter 
 Susan,* as well as other good marriages for her numerous 
 cousins and nieces, she achieved a notorious reputation in the 
 Court. " In truth," says John Chamberlain, in one of his gossipy 
 news-letters, " she is to be commended for having such a care 
 to prefer her poor kindred and friends, and a special work 
 of charity it is to provide for young maids, whereby there be 
 six or seven more they say come to town for the same purpose." f 
 But her pride increased with these successes, and she became 
 more arrogant than her powerful son, while she was much less 
 scrupulous in her methods. 
 
 In a letter from Dr. Meade to Sir Martin Stuteville J there 
 is a story of a chain, valued at ^3000, which had belonged to 
 the late Queen, and by the wish of Prince Charles had been 
 given to the Duchess of Lennox. Lady Buckingham was 
 highly annoyed at this gift being conferred upon one whom she 
 considered a rival, and actually dared to send a message next 
 day to the Duchess, asking in the King's name for the return of 
 the chain, which he would replace by something not less valuable. 
 
 "The messenger," writes Dr. Meade, "who went in the 
 King's name and not hers, being sounded by the amazed 
 Duchess, whether himself had received that order from the 
 King, or not, at last confessed he was sent by the Countess who 
 had it from his Majesty. Whereupon the Duchess bid him tell 
 the Countess that she would not so much dishonour the Prince 
 who brought it, as to suffer it to be carried back by any hand 
 but his, or her own ; for if his Majesty would have it, she would 
 carry it herself ; which the next day she performed, desiring to 
 know wherein she offended his Majesty. The King, under- 
 standing the business, swore he was abused ; and the Prince 
 told him that he took it for so great an affront on his part, that 
 he would leave the Court if she stayed in it ; with no small 
 expression of indignation. My author for this was Sir William 
 Bourser, of Uppingham." 
 
 There were other things which contributed to the disgrace 
 
 * Sir William Fielding, afterwards Lord Denbigh, 
 t " Court and Times of James I." 
 t Ellis's Original Letters. 
 
100 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 of Buckingham's lady mother. The King, who for all his fond- 
 ness was a shrewd man, saw that his Favourite was too much 
 under the influence of a woman to whom the adventurers about 
 the Court addressed themselves with " presents " that were but 
 bribes to gain the patronage of her son. The Spanish Ambas- 
 sador, Count Gondomar, in a simile which does more credit to 
 his wit than to his reverence, wrote in his despatches that 
 "There was never more hope of England's conversion to the 
 Roman faith than now; for here are more prayers offered to 
 the Mother than to the Son." 
 
 While Buckingham had had trouble over his marriage 
 because his future wife was a Catholic, his mother was being 
 drawn towards the old religion, and this again was a cause 
 of annoyance to the King, chiefly, no doubt, because it would 
 arouse suspicion in the public mind that his Favourite was 
 also a Catholic in sympathy, even though he conformed out- 
 wardly to the Church of England. Buckingham must have 
 realized this danger himself, because he took some pains to 
 withdraw her from the influence of a Jesuit named Fisher, 
 to whom she had made a declaration of faith. He engaged 
 the services of Dr. Francis White, Divinity Lecturer at St. 
 Paul's, to hold a polemical battle with the priest in Lady 
 Buckingham's presence. 
 
 At one of the conferences that took place the King himself 
 was present. But the Favourite's mother was not shaken in her 
 new convictions, and for a time suffered the King's displeasure 
 by being exiled from the Court. This, however, could have 
 been only a temporary disgrace, for in a little time we find the 
 Favourite including her in the affectionate messages to the 
 King, in a way that showed she had regained His Majesty's 
 good will. 
 
 Buckingham's rural pursuits must have been but brief 
 interludes to his duties as King's Favourite, to say nothing of his 
 office as Lord Admiral. As the King's representative, he had 
 an extraordinary variety of duties, from the entertainment of a 
 foreign ambassador to the christening of a baby. He seems to 
 have been very frequently employed in the latter ceremony. 
 Thus we read in Chamberlain's letters (June 26, 1619), that 
 " The Lady of Salisbury is lately brought a-bed of a son, 
 who is to be christened this week by the Prince and Marquis 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S HOME LIFE 101 
 
 of Buckingham." And again on February 12, 1619-20, "We 
 hear the Lord Walden's son was christened on Thursday last, 
 at Audley End, by the Duke of Lennox, as deputy for the 
 King, and the Marquis Buckingham." 
 
 Sir Symonds D'Ewes tells an amusing story, though he 
 makes it a peg upon which to hang a charge against Bucking- 
 ham's reverence, with regard to the baptism of one of these 
 nobly born babes. Some young and beautiful women were 
 present with the Favourite, and the minister no sooner came 
 to the passage, where it is required of the sponsors to combat 
 against the weaknesses of the flesh, than Buckingham began to 
 wink and smile at his fair companions, by which the solemnity 
 of the ceremony was highly discomposed. 
 
 From such a small ceremony my Lord of Buckingham 
 would go perhaps to take his place in a state reception, such 
 as that described by Chamberlain, on May 25, 1619 — 
 
 "On Monday the Marquis of Tremouille, the French 
 Ambassador, went to Theobald's with almost three score coaches 
 of four horses, and had a great dinner and banquet, and after 
 went to his audience which was reasonably long. The King 
 used him very graciously, and ;so he came as he went, accom- 
 panied by both the Marquis Buckingham and Hamilton." 
 
 During the Ambassador's stay Buckingham grudged the 
 time given to him, as he was then planning out the grounds of 
 Theobald's as well as of his own park. So we find him writing 
 to the King — 
 
 " I spent some time in Theobald's Parke to-day, and though 
 it was enough to give directions, yet not to satisfye my longing 
 and desier to stay longer, it is grown so butifull allredie, with 
 the alteration allreadie made." 
 
 And again to his " Dear Dad and Gossope " — 
 
 " I have bine so busie to entertaine the French Imbassador 
 and the Grave Judge that I have not had time to take such 
 order about my parke as will give you satisfaction ; wherefore, 
 not dareing to louke you in the face till I had made some use of 
 my journie, I have taken the bouldness to stay one day longer 
 then I had leave to doe, and truely the Imbassador was so late 
 
102 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 in taking his leave, that though I should have attempted the 
 performance of my promis, hardlie should I a bine able to a 
 compassed it, especiallie after a hartie takeing my leave of my 
 wife. This last excus I hope will pleade pardon, and obtaine 
 it of Babie Charles, and the former of your selfe, in confidence 
 of which, I will be merrie here to-night, and to-morrow, longe 
 before supper. Reseave that which now I bege, your blessing. 
 " Your Mat Uas most humble slave and dogge, 
 
 " Stinie " 
 
 However glad the Favourite was to retire awhile to his 
 private parks, he was not rash enough to risk losing his hold 
 upon the King by too long an absence, or to forfeit his own 
 prerogatives of patronage. The highest as well as the humblest 
 offices of the Court were in his hands, and if any other person 
 attempted to appoint a friend or a servant to a vacancy without 
 first consulting Buckingham, the Favourite was quick to show 
 his wrath, and exert his supreme influence. Thus he had a 
 tussle with the Earl of Montgomery, Pembroke's dissolute 
 and loud-mouthed brother, then Lord Chamberlain, over a 
 groom-porter's place. This business looked as if it might 
 develop into a serious quarrel, but, writes Chamberlain on 
 October 16, 1619, "The King cut off the difference about 
 the groom-portership by telling the Lord Chamberlain that 
 what right soever he had he should [not] bestow it upon him ; 
 so that one Cotterel, a creature of the Lord of Buckingham's 
 placed in by him, continues the possession without interruption." 
 
 One of Buckingham's earliest acts of patronage, when he 
 was still Sir George Villiers, was in favour of Lord Herbert 
 of Cherbury. " This Cavalier," writes Herbert, " meeting me 
 accidentally at Lady Stanhope's house, came to me, and told 
 me he had heard so much of my worth, as he would think 
 himself happy if, by his credit with the King, he could do me 
 any service. I humbly thanked him, but told him that for the 
 present I had need of nothing so much as of health, but that 
 if ever I had ambition, I should take the boldness to make my 
 address by him." 
 
 Afterwards Buckingham, who admired the chivalrous cha- 
 racter of this noted duellist, recommended him as a gentleman 
 suitable to become our ambassador in France. Accordingly, 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S HOME LIFE 103 
 
 Lord Herbert journeyed to Paris,' where he soon became a 
 favourite among the French ladies, and very quickly had a 
 fierce quarrel with De Luynes, the French King's favourite and 
 the most powerful minister in France, having many Quixotic 
 adventures, which he narrates with the most delightful self- 
 complacency and good humour, as well as with many shrewd 
 observations upon the men, manners, and political events of 
 that country. As an ambassador he was singularly lacking in 
 prudence and tactfulness, being ready to take affront at any 
 fancied insult, and quick to send a challenge to the most exalted 
 in rank, but all his faults were overlooked by Buckingham and 
 the English Court on account of his really heroic courage, and 
 quaint, chivalrous character. 
 
 All this gives an insight into Buckingham's own heart. He 
 rejoices in exercising his great power of patronage without pay- 
 ment, and with a really good-natured desire to serve all who 
 appealed to his protection. At this time, indeed before he 
 began to play the dangerous game of international politics, 
 securing himself as domestic favourite of the King, establishing 
 his home and family, and surrounding himself if not with friends 
 of sterling worth, at least with flatterers, prodigal in expres- 
 sions of servility, we can find much to admire, and but little to 
 blame, in his conduct as the First Favourite.- In his rather 
 boyish gaiety and light-heartedness there was a kind of sunshine 
 which cheered those who came within his influence, and it was 
 not yet that men had cause to rail at him as the enemy of his 
 country. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 THE FAVOURITE AND FRANCIS BACON 
 
 IN the early days of 162 1, a storm which had long been 
 brewing burst out with a violence which was especially 
 threatening to Bacon and Buckingham ; to Bacon as the 
 fountain-head of justice, to Buckingham as the head of the 
 Villiers family, who were accused of gaining wealth by com- 
 mercial corruption. It has already been mentioned that 
 Edward and Christopher Villiers had tried to increase their 
 wealth by business transactions of a somewhat doubtful cha- 
 racter. They had lent their names to the practice of granting 
 monopolies and patents in certain trades. This practice had 
 aroused intense jealousy and rivalry in the city, and in the 
 hands of unscrupulous scoundrels, who had used what was 
 designed for the benefit of trade and the welfare of the nation 
 for their own private advantage, had called forth a great popular 
 protest which could no longer be hushed up. Parliament itself 
 resolved upon an investigation of the alleged abuses, and in the 
 new year of 162 1 began that enquiry, with serious and resolute 
 discussion. The subject of these patents is intricate and diffi- 
 cult. It was, and still is, a principle of law to grant a monopoly 
 under certain conditions to those who invent new methods of 
 manufacture, and Bacon as Lord Keeper, as well as his prede- 
 cessors, had extended the privilege to the promoters of new 
 industries introduced from foreign countries. Theoretically and 
 often in practice, these patents were of benefit to the community 
 by stimulating commercial enterprises. But in the days of the 
 Stuart Court, when bribery was like a canker gnawing at the 
 heart of the purest ideal, it was impossible to prevent these 
 privileges from being gravely abused. In order to gain friends 
 at Court who would facilitate the granting of a patent and its 
 protection, it became customary for the promoters to associate 
 
 104 
 
FRANCIS BACON, LORD VERULAM 
 
 AFTER THE PORTRAIT IN GRAY'S INN HALL 
 
THE FAVOURITE AND FRANCIS BACON 105 
 
 with their undertaking some person or persons in high favour, 
 who in return for their name and patronage would receive either 
 a fixed salary or a share of the profits. In this way Edward 
 and Christopher Villiers, and Buckingham himself, were con- 
 nected with the gold thread patent, the glass patent, and others. 
 It has been proved, however, that the financial benefit derived 
 by Edward and Christopher Villiers from these enterprises was 
 limited to a few hundred pounds, while Buckingham's share 
 was of no account whatever, and his sole interest in the patents 
 was on account of his brothers' connection therewith.* 
 
 But apart from these trade monopolies there was one patent 
 or licence granted by the law-officers of the crown which lent 
 itself to abuse of the most scandalous character, and it was 
 unfortunate for Buckingham that the man who was most 
 notorious in exploiting it for his own benefit was his kinsman, 
 Sir Giles Mompesson. It was the licence for ale and wine 
 houses, designed originally to keep a controlling power over 
 the proper conduct of those places which had been too notorious 
 as dens of thieves and immoral people. But it had acted in 
 precisely the opposite direction. Sir Giles Mompesson, into 
 whose hands the power of granting the licences had mainly 
 been given, acquired enormous wealth by receiving heavy 
 bribes from the owners of taverns of the vilest character, and 
 while under his rigime respectable innkeepers found it difficult 
 to obtain their licence, unless by heavy payment, the numbers of 
 disorderly houses increased enormously, to the great scandal of 
 all sober and decent citizens. 
 
 Mompesson, a creature of basest metal, was summoned 
 before a committee of the whole House, and after a severe 
 examination, which revealed the truth of all the charges against 
 him, he was denounced by many of the members with the 
 most resolute determination to have justice done upon him. 
 Thoroughly cowed, this blackmailer and thieves' patron threw 
 himself upon the mercy of the House, which would have no 
 mercy. A warrant was drawn up for his arrest, but when the 
 officer proceeded to deliver it Mompesson jumped out of the 
 window and fled, with the fear of death upon him. 
 
 The news of his escape was heard with rage by his enemies 
 in the Lords and Commons. Orders were despatched instantly 
 * Spedding, Gardiner, etc. 
 
106 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 to close all ports, but without avail, for the fugitive was already 
 on board a cross-Channel boat. Then in their rage the people 
 who had thirsted for this victim murmured against Bucking- 
 ham. Mompesson, they said, would not have got away if his 
 kinsman the Favourite had not smuggled him through. 
 
 Buckingham at this time was in a dangerous situation. 
 There were many people, of high as well as of common rank, 
 who believed that their opportunity had come to drag down the 
 Favourite, and to strike at him through this movement against 
 the patents with which his family had been mixed up. Buck- 
 ingham had not touched a penny of the plunder, but it was 
 characteristic of him that he was eager at first to defend the 
 principle of these patents, and to take upon himself the cham- 
 pionship of his two brothers and of the minor courtiers who had 
 dabbled in these commercial enterprises. That his own family 
 should be covertly attacked, and that he should be aimed at 
 by the opponents of his patronage, was sufficient to arouse a 
 spirit of haughty defiance in him. Before the crisis came which 
 led to Mompesson's flight, he made it clear that any man who 
 dared to speak against the monopolies would be regarded as 
 his personal enemy, and must expect his vengeance. Sir Henry 
 Yelverton, the Attorney-General, who declared against their 
 legality, soon felt the weight of the Favourite's hand. Accused 
 of a technical offence in drawing up a charter for the City of 
 London, he was prosecuted in the Star Chamber, and dismissed 
 from his office. Sir Thomas Coventry, the Solicitor-General, 
 who at this time was one of Buckingham's flatterers, became the 
 new Attorney-General. Other friends of the Favourite were 
 raised to high office. Sir James Ney, who at the age of sixty- 
 eight played into the hands of Buckingham's match-making 
 mother, and agreed to bestow his wealth upon the Favourite's 
 niece, Elizabeth Butler, was made Chief Justice of the King's 
 Bench. (It was a merry jest to the wits of the Court and 
 town.) Sir Henry Montagu, who vacated that position, bought 
 the office of Lord Treasurer at a price of ^20,000, and was 
 raised to the peerage as Viscount Mandeville. Bacon, who was 
 not one of his friends, met him going to Newmarket to receive 
 the white staff of office from the King's hands. "Take care, 
 my lord," said the philosopher, with quiet sarcasm. " Wood is 
 dearer at Newmarket than in any other place in England." 
 
THE FAVOURITE AND FRANCIS BACON 107 
 
 But although Buckingham thus showed that the Royal 
 patronage still flowed through his hands alone, there were 
 ominous signs in both Houses of Parliament that his two 
 brothers would be associated with the crimes of Mompesson, 
 and that he would in all likelihood be denounced as the respon- 
 sible adviser of the King in this business. 
 
 Bacon, who was more closely responsible, read the signs of 
 the storm with a clearer vision than the careless Favourite. He 
 wrote him a warning letter. Referring to the connection of 
 Christopher Villiers and some of Buckingham's own followers 
 with the patents, he urged him " to put off the envy of these 
 things." " It would be to take the thanks for ceasing them than 
 the note for maintaining them." But Buckingham, believing 
 as usual in the supreme power of his personality, ignored the 
 wisdom of the Lord Keeper, and upheld the legality of the 
 patents. It was only when Mompesson yielded to the violent 
 outburst of indignation in the Commons and then fled the 
 country that Buckingham began to realize the peril of defying 
 such national opposition. In the Lords he first showed a 
 defensive attitude by hinting that the responsibility for these 
 things was not upon his shoulders, but upon the officers of 
 state who had directly sanctioned the patents, and imprisoned 
 those who had traded without licence. For this he has been 
 blamed as an ungenerous and cowardly attempt to shelter 
 himself behind the Lord Keeper. Yet in justice it must be 
 admitted that he was at least technically correct. He had no 
 direct interest in the patents, and they had not been granted by 
 his authority. The late Lord Chancellor Ellesmere, and Bacon 
 his successor, had, as the highest representatives of the law, 
 given their sanction and seals to the licences now so loudly 
 condemned. To the great officers of the law, therefore, must 
 the Commons address their complaints, and not to one who, 
 though the King's right hand in the dispensing of Royal favours, 
 had no authority in the administration and interpretation of 
 justice. 
 
 James himself entered into this conflict, and while he agreed 
 to full- consideration being given to the alleged abuses, he 
 bullied the Commons for their disregard of his Royal preroga- 
 tive, and of his Favourite's gracious interpretation of the Royal 
 will. In one of those extraordinary similes which so often 
 
108 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 dropped from the lips of the pedant King between phrases of 
 ponderous eloquence, garnished with Latin, he defended his 
 beloved Steenie, and took his stand by the Favourite's side. 
 
 "Before Parliament met," he said, "my subjects whenever 
 they had any favour to ask used to come either to me or to 
 Buckingham. But now, as if we had both ceased to exist, they 
 go to the Parliament. All this is most disrespectful. I will, 
 therefore, tell you a fable. In the days when animals could 
 speak, there was a cow burthened with too heavy a tail, and 
 before the end of the winter she had it cut off. When the 
 summer came, and the flies began to annoy her, she would 
 gladly have had her tail back again. I and Buckingham are 
 like the cow's tail, and when the session is over you will be glad 
 to have us back again to defend you from abuses." 
 
 Such words as these were not likely to impress a House 
 firm in its resolve to remedy a great abuse. Indeed, the temper 
 of the Lords as well as of the Commons was not to be cooled 
 down by Royal censure. Bacon and Lord Mandeville, the 
 Treasurer, were practically put on their trial by the peers, 
 Pembroke interrogating them severely in the Upper House, 
 while old Edward Coke, in spite of his relationship to the 
 Villiers family, led a bitter opposition in the Commons, and 
 rejoiced in his opportunity of attacking from that place the 
 reputation of his old enemy, the Lord Keeper. Sir Henry 
 Yelverton, now a prisoner in the Tower, was also subjected to 
 an examination about the granting of the patents, and his 
 evidence indicated the full measure of the abuse to which they 
 had been put. Even Cranfield, who had been a flatterer of the 
 Favourite, declared himself on the side of the Opposition, and 
 his hostility to Bacon led him to demand an examination of 
 those who had been directly responsible for the grants. 
 
 The King was alarmed. It was a direct attack upon his 
 Royal prerogative that his Great Seal should be called to the 
 bar of the House of Commons. Buckingham also was scared 
 at this general execration of the monopolies with which his 
 name was associated. In this difficult and dangerous position 
 there was one who whispered in the ear of the Favourite words 
 of good counsel. Dr. Williams, who had won Buckingham's 
 favour by his good help over the marriage with Kate Manners, 
 advised his patron, not only to bow before the storm, but to 
 
THE FAVOURITE AND FRANCIS BACON 109 
 
 take the lead in the opposition to the monopolies. By that 
 means he would not only avert personal danger, but would gain 
 popular homage, and effect an alliance between the Court and 
 the people. Buckingham heard these words as a Gospel. They 
 seemed to him not only full of wisdom for the solution of the 
 greatest difficulty he had yet faced, but an opportunity for a 
 dramatic display of his personality. At his heart he was an 
 actor. He loved to take the centre of the stage with a noble 
 audience. He was one of those men who delight in their own 
 presence, and pose with the greatest pleasure before the mirror 
 of their self-opinion. It was through no craven fear that 
 Buckingham accepted the advice of Williams, but it seemed to 
 him now a noble thing that he should startle the Opposition, 
 and receive the acclaim of the Lords, Commons, and people, as 
 the champion of reform against the abuses with which he had 
 been only nominally allied. It was, therefore, with self-satisfac- 
 tion that he rose in his seat in the Lords to intervene in a 
 discussion of the patents. But he was a little too eager. Not 
 being a member of the Committee, he had no right to speak. 
 Lord Southampton silenced him with a severe rebuke. Bucking- 
 ham accepted it at the time, but later he demanded satisfaction 
 for the insult, and would have drawn his sword upon Southampton 
 but for the intervention of the Prince of Wales. Later he 
 received permission to speak, and used his opportunity with a 
 fine sense of drama. With every show of indignation and noble 
 feeling, he denounced the abuses that had corrupted the patent 
 grants. He referred to his brothers Edward and Christopher, 
 who had been accused of a share in the evil business. " If my 
 father," he said, " had begotten two sons to be grievances to the 
 Commonwealth, I must tell you that the same father begot a 
 third son who would help in punishing them." 
 
 1 These words were heard with surprise by the peers, and with 
 delight in the House of Commons. The members of the Lower 
 House did not doubt the sincerity of the Favourite, and believing 
 that he was the spokesman of the Sovereign, as indeed he was 
 in this matter, at once abandoned their hostility to him, and 
 proceeded with the Bill against the monopolies without demand- 
 ing the examination of Bacon and the other great officers of 
 state, who had given their seals to the patents. Buckingham 
 had gained a great personal triumph, and had saved the King 
 
110 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 from humiliation. The Commons showed their gratitude for 
 the withdrawal of the King's opposition to reform, by granting 
 two heavy subsidies for an army to be raised in defence of his 
 son-in-law, the Elector Palatine and titular King of Bohemia, 
 whose territory had been invaded by the Austrians, and James, 
 whose temper had been sadly ruffled by the early actions of this 
 Parliament, now, with money in his hands, forgot his displeasure. 
 
 Another scene took place in the Lords, however, in which 
 Buckingham was again the central figure. It was when Yelverton 
 was examined upon the circumstances attending the grant for 
 the patent of inns, and the patent for gold and silver thread. 
 Yelverton had been brooding over his committal to the Tower, 
 of which Buckingham had been the instrument, and now, with 
 his temper roused, he defended himself by protesting that he 
 had been punished by the King for checking the abuses of the 
 inn-licences, and had suffered by the ill-will of the Favourite, 
 who stood " ever at his Majesty's hand to hew him down." The 
 words were not only an attack upon Buckingham, who was now 
 on the side of reform, but a direct insult to the King, who was 
 charged with injustice owing to the influence of his Favourite. 
 Such words could not be passed in silence. Cries resounded on 
 every side protesting against this language. But Buckingham, 
 ready always to face an accusation with haughty scorn, bore 
 down the voices that bade the speaker hold his peace. " He that 
 will seek to stop him," he said, " is more my enemy than his." 
 
 Sir Henry Yelverton was sent back to the Tower, but a few 
 days later the Lords discussed whether he should be again 
 heard to explain his words. This time Arundel, although a 
 member of the Howard family, who were most hostile to the 
 Favourite, sprang to his feet and demanded the punishment of 
 the prisoner for his slander against the Sovereign and the Earl. 
 Buckingham was grateful for this ally, and did not forget to 
 reward him afterwards. But at the time Arundel's speech 
 aroused the anger of those peers who believed that Yelverton 
 had been unjustly committed to the Tower without a trial. 
 Lord Spencer expressed surprise that such words should come 
 from Lord Arundel, whose two ancestors, the Duke of Norfolk 
 and the Earl of Surrey, had been condemned to death without 
 a hearing. Arundel retorted with an insolence that was charac- 
 teristic of him. He acknowledged that his ancestors had suffered, 
 
THE FAVOURITE AND FRANCIS BACON 111 
 
 though they had been loyal to the King, and " in such time as 
 when perhaps the lord's ancestors that spake last were keeping 
 sheep." Another storm broke out at these words of insult, and 
 on both sides the temper in the Upper House was dangerously 
 heated. In the end Yelverton was examined for his attack upon 
 the honour of the King, and his slander against Buckingham. 
 He had no proof to offer, and sentence was passed against him. 
 He was ordered to be imprisoned during the King's pleasure, 
 and to be fined 10,000 marks for his insult to the Sovereign. 
 For his words against the Earl of Buckingham he was fined 
 5000 marks. 
 
 As soon as the judgment was pronounced Buckingham stood 
 up in his place, and displayed a generosity to his enemy which 
 was again characteristic of a man who, with all his faults, had 
 no meanness of spirit, and would never profit in money from a 
 fallen foe. With, a gracious condescension he freely remitted 
 the fine for the slander against him, and promised to move the 
 King to mitigate the other part of the punishment. It was a 
 generous action well done, and one of those incidents in the 
 career of Buckingham which go far to redeem his weakness, and 
 give some touch of nobility even to his vanity. 
 
 The King, grateful for the subsidies, was anxious to support 
 his Favourite's action, and he sent a strong assurance to the 
 Commons of his desire to remove the abuse and release those 
 prisoners who had suffered for defying the monopolies. 
 
 " Three Patents at this time," he said, " have been complained 
 of and thought great grievances. 
 
 " (1) That of the Inns and hostelries. 
 
 " (2) That of alehouses. 
 
 " (3) That of gold and silver thread. 
 My purpose is to strike them all dead, and that time may not 
 be lost I will have it done presently.* That concerning ale- 
 houses I would have to be left to the managing of the Justices 
 of the Peace, as before. That of gold and silver thread was most 
 vilely executed, both for wrong done to men's persons, also for 
 abuse in the state; for it was a kind of false coin. I have 
 already freed the persons that were in prison. I will also now 
 damn the Patent." t 
 
 * " Immediately," according to the old meaning of the above word, 
 t Rushworth. 
 
112 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 It was a wise policy of James to bow before the will of the 
 Commons ; and to Williams who had suggested the abandon- 
 ment of the monopolies, and to Buckingham who had so boldly 
 accepted defeat with an air of victory, there was just cause 
 of satisfaction. The spirit of reconciliation healed the wounds 
 that had been given and received on both sides. Yelverton 
 was forgiven, and Cranfield, who had at first shown great hostility 
 to Bacon, but afterwards served the interests of the Court party, 
 was advanced in favour. Only Bacon was excluded from the 
 general peace-making, and before, indeed, the settlement of this 
 business of the monopolies his enemies had gathered about him 
 with sharp swords. 
 
 In this study of Buckingham's life it would be unnecessary 
 and out of place to go fully into the charges brought against 
 the Lord Chancellor. He was accused of taking bribes from 
 suitors in the Chancery Court, and it has been proved, to the great 
 grief of all who have the most profound reverence for the giant 
 intellect of the author of the Essays and " The Advancement 
 of Learning," that he was guilty of these grave offences against 
 the purity of justice. The progress of his impeachment, and the 
 eagerness with which the Howards and other enemies seized 
 upon the charges in order to drag down a great man from his 
 high estate, need not be described in this narrative. But what 
 is more to the purpose here is the conduct of George Villiers 
 towards his friend and counsellor in the days of his disgrace. 
 It has been said too often, and is still repeated, that Buckingham 
 deserted the Lord Chancellor, and with cowardly ingratitude 
 ranged himself on the side of Bacon's enemies. There is not 
 a word of truth in this. Buckingham could not prevent the 
 impeachment — the King himself, who was shocked by the 
 charges against his Chancellor, did not, and could not, demand 
 more for him than a full and fair investigation — nor could 
 Buckingham disprove or defend the guiltiness which was too 
 clearly revealed, as the evidence was examined, and was, indeed, 
 fully confessed by the unhappy man. But Buckingham did all 
 that the best of friends could do to soften the tragedy, and to 
 mitigate the punishment. From his place in the House of 
 Lords he held a watching brief for the accused, and whenever 
 his voice was heard it was with a plea that justice might be 
 tempered with mercy. 
 
THE FAVOURITE AND FRANCIS BACON 113 
 
 He could do no more, though it must be admitted that in 
 loyalty to a friend he could do no less. It was to him that 
 the Lord Chancellor turned in his agony of spirit, and on the 
 same day that Christopher Aubrey presented the petition to 
 the House which led to the impeachment Bacon wrote a sad 
 letter to the Marquis. 
 
 " My Very Good Lord, 
 
 " Your Lordship spake of purgatory. I am now in 
 it, but my mind is a calm ; for my fortune is not my felicity. I 
 know I have clean hands and a clean heart ; and I hope a clean 
 house for friends or servants. But Job himself, or whoever was 
 the justest judge, by such hunting for matters against him as 
 hath been used against me, may for a time seem foul, specially 
 in a time when greatness is the mark and accusation is the 
 game. And if this be to be a Chancellor, I think if the Great 
 Seal lay upon Hounslow Heath, nobody would take it up. But 
 the King and your Lordship will, I hope, put an end to these 
 miseries one way or other. And in truth that which I fear 
 most is lest continual attendance and business together with 
 these cares, and want of time to do my weak body right this 
 spring by diet and physic, will cast me down ; and then it will 
 be thought feigning or fainting. But I hope in God I shall hold 
 out. God prosper you." * 
 
 Under the nervous strain of his impending fate — in his heart 
 now he knew that he had been guilty of most fatal folly — 
 Bacon's health gave way, and in spite of his hope to " hold out," 
 he had to send an excuse to the Lords for absence from his 
 place in their House. It was Buckingham who delivered the 
 letter, and in presenting it he told the peers that he had by the 
 King's direction visited the Lord Chancellor twice, and had 
 found him the first time " very sick and heavy," but the second 
 time better, and much comforted by hearing that the complaints 
 against him had been referred to their House, where he assured 
 himself to find honourable justice. 
 
 During the next few weeks the first accusation of bribery 
 was followed by others, many who had given presents, and had 
 got no satisfaction from them, being eager to add to the evidence 
 
 * Spedding. 
 I 
 
114 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 of the Chancellor's guilt. The Lords were busy investigating 
 these proofs, and Bacon realized with terrible clarity that he 
 would never clear his good name and fame. On March 2ist 
 he wrote to the Lord Marquis, "who was my anchor in these 
 floods," begging him to hand an enclosed letter to the King. 
 That was a pitiful appeal, in which he defended the purity of 
 his motives, whatever his outward faults had been. 
 
 " I have been no avaricious oppressor of the people," he said. 
 " I have been no haughty or intolerable or hateful man in my 
 conversation or carriage . . . and for the briberies and gifts 
 wherewith I am charged, when the book of hearts shall be 
 opened, I hope I shall not be found to have the troubled 
 fountain of a corrupt heart in a deformed habit of taking 
 rewards to pervert justice ; howsoever I may be frail, and 
 partake of the abuse of the times. 
 
 "And therefore I am resolved when I come to my answer 
 not to trick up my innocency (as I writ to the Lords) by 
 cavillations or jvoidances, but to speak to them the language 
 that my heart speaketh to me, in excusing, extenuating, or 
 ingenuous confessing ; praying to God to give me the grace to 
 see to the bottom of my faults, and that no hardness of heart 
 do steal upon me, under shew pf more neatness of conscience 
 than is cause." 
 
 At the end of April the Committees of Lords appointed to 
 investigate the charges presented their reports, and on April 
 22nd Bacon, knowing that he would be condemned, made "a 
 humble submission and supplication " to his judges. 
 
 " My humble suit to your Lordships is," he concluded, " that 
 my penitent submission may be my sentence, and the loss of • 
 the seal my punishment ; and that your Lordships will spare 
 any further sentence, but recommend me to his Majesty's grace 
 and pardon for all that is past." * 
 
 On April 24th the Prince of Wales himself delivered this 
 letter, which was read first by the clerk and then by the Lord 
 Chief Justice. It was followed by a long silence, and then the 
 Lord Chamberlain, the Earl of Suffolk, and the Earl of South- 
 ampton protested that this submission could not be accepted, as 
 it was a general, and not a particular, confession of the corrup- 
 tion with which he was accused. A hot discussion followed, 
 
 * Spedding. 
 
THE FAVOURITE AND FRANCIS BACON 115 
 
 both the Prince of Wales and the Marquis of Buckingham 
 urging earnestly that the submission should be accepted, and 
 that Bacon should be spared a formal sentence. They were 
 strongly out-voted on this, and then another debate followed 
 as to whether the Chancellor should be called to the bar of 
 the House, or whether the indictment against him should be 
 sent and answered by letter. Again Buckingham stepped for- 
 ward to spare his friend the full measure of his disgrace, and 
 pleaded Bacon's bad state of health as a sufficient reason to 
 excuse his personal attendance. He was supported in this by 
 the Prince, the Duke of Lennox, and the Earl of Southampton, 
 and after much opposition the privilege was allowed.* On the 
 30th of April the Lord Chief Justice received from the Chan- 
 cellor a second submission, in which, clause by clause, he con- 
 fessed the truth of his charges. " I do plainly and ingenuously 
 confess," he said, " that I am guilty of corruption, and do 
 renounce all defence and put myself upon the grace and mercy 
 of your lordships." 
 
 It is one of the most tragic documents in biographical 
 history, and all condemnation of Bacon's guilt is overpowered 
 by a pity for his misery. As soon as it had been read to the 
 Lords they sent a committee to York House, in order to learn 
 whether the signature was genuine. "My Lords," said the 
 Chancellor, " it is my act, my hand, my heart. I beseech your 
 Lordships be merciful unto a broken reed." The King was now 
 prayed to demand the surrender of the Great Seal, which had 
 been so abused. James gave his assent, saying that he would 
 have done it, even if he had not been asked. So on May 1st 
 the Earl of Pembroke, Lord Mandeville, the Duke of Lennox, 
 and Lord Arundel went to York House, to the bedside of what 
 seemed to them a dying man. They had come to do justice, 
 but they were not unmoved by pity. "We wish that it had 
 been better with you," said one. " The worse the better," said 
 the broken man. Then after a silence he broke out into a 
 poignant expression of misery. " By the King's great favour I 
 received the Great Seal ; by my own fault I have lost it." It 
 was the hour of his utter despair and self-abasement. 
 
 Those who were his enemies in the House would give him no 
 peace. On the following day a deputation again came to his 
 
 * Rush worth. 
 
116 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 bedside to summon him to the bar of the House. But he was 
 really too ill to move. The agony of his spirit had left his body 
 weak. 
 
 On May 3rd, therefore, the Lords, the majority of whom 
 were not vindictive, and had no desire to inflict unnecessary 
 suffering upon the fallen man, accepted this plea of ill-health, 
 and prepared to decide his punishment. It was a solemn and 
 awful scene in the Upper Chamber, with a full assembly of lords 
 spiritual and temporal deliberating on the fate of a man who 
 had been greatest among them. Some were stern in their 
 desire for a dread sentence. Lord Saye demanded his degrada- 
 tion from the peerage, in addition to the fine and imprisonment, 
 which was quickly decided. When this was voted against by 
 the Prince and Buckingham, and other members of what might 
 be called the Court Party, Suffolk's son, Lord Howard de 
 Walden, demanded that at least his titles of nobility should be 
 suspended during his lifetime. Against these proposals of per- 
 sonal degradation Buckingham raised his voice : " The Chan- 
 cellor has not long to live," he said. In the end the sentence 
 adopted was that Bacon should pay a fine of ^"40,000, should 
 be imprisoned during the King's pleasure, should be disabled 
 from holding any office in the State and from sitting in Parlia- 
 ment, and that he should not come within twelve miles of the 
 Court. This was put to the vote, and carried with only one 
 dissentient. The solitary voice was Buckingham's, who to the 
 last, standing upon his honour and loyalty as a friend, would 
 not associate himself with the prosecution, though it had been 
 conducted fairly and according to the rules of justice. 
 
 Buckingham's behaviour throughout this great tragedy is 
 proof enough that the charge against him of deserting Bacon in 
 his trouble is utterly without foundation. Indeed, as he had 
 risked his favour with the King by too resolutely advising the 
 dissolution of Parliament, so that the Chancellor should not be 
 brought to trial, so now he risked the animosity of his peers 
 by postponing the effect of their sentence upon the condemned 
 man who had been ordered to the Tower. 
 
 Southampton, who had been especially stern in his demand 
 for the punishment of the great offender, asked a question in 
 the House of Lords as to the reason why the Lord Chancellor 
 had not yet gone to the Tower. 
 
THE FAVOURITE AND FRANCIS BACON 117 
 
 It was the Lord Admiral who answered. " The King," said 
 Buckingham, " hath respited his going to the Tower in this time 
 of his great sickness." 
 
 It was not until the end of the month that Bacon was duly 
 committed to the Tower, to be kept there "during his Majesty's 
 pleasure," so that the sentence of his peers was not made vain ; 
 but his Majesty's pleasure, prompted by Buckingham, did not 
 suffer his old and trusty servant to stay long in that dread 
 place. On the 31st of May of this same year, 1621, the ex- 
 Chancellor addressed a piteous note to the Lord Marquis — 
 
 "Good my Lord, 
 
 "Procure the warrant for my discharge this day. 
 Death, I thank God, is so far from being unwelcome to me, as I 
 have called it (as Christian resolution would permit) any time 
 these three months. But to die before the time of his Majesty's 
 grace, and in this disgraceful place, is even the worst that could 
 be ; and when I am dead, he is gone that was always in one 
 tenor, a true and peaceful servant to his master, and one that 
 was never author of any immoderate, no, nor unsafe, no (I will say 
 it) not unfortunate counsel ; and one that no temptation could 
 ever make other than a trusty, and honest, and thrice loving 
 friend to your Lordship ; and howsoever I acknowledge the 
 sentence just, and for reformation sake fit, the justest Chancellor 
 that hath been in the five changes since Sir Nicholas Bacon's 
 time. God bless and prosper your Lordship whatsoever become 
 of me. 
 
 " Your Lordship's true friend, living and dying, 
 
 "Fr. St. Alban 
 
 " Tower, 
 
 "31st May, 1621" 
 
 Buckingham acted quickly in getting the King's authority 
 for the release of the unhappy prisoner, for only four days later 
 Bacon writes to him from Sir John Vaughan's house at Fulham— 
 
 "My very Good Lord, 
 
 " I heartily thank your Lordship for getting me out 
 of prison, and now my body is out, my mind nevertheless will 
 still be in prison, till I may be on my feet to do his Majesty 
 
118 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 and your Lordship faithful service, wherein your Lordship by 
 the grace of God, shall find that my adversity hath neither 
 spent nor pent my spirits. God prosper you. 
 
 " Your Lordship's most obliged 
 
 " Friend and Faithful servant, 
 
 " Fr. St. Alban " 
 
 During June Bacon stayed in London, against the ruling of 
 the sentence which had banished him twelve miles from the 
 Court, and he tells Buckingham in a letter that he has peti- 
 tioned the King to give him leave to stay " at " London till the 
 last of July, in order that he may settle his debts. Bucking- 
 ham served him still by taking Bacon's most faithful servant 
 Meantys " to kiss His Majesty's hands," and to plead for his 
 master's interests. "My riches in my adversity have been," 
 writes Bacon to the Lord Admiral, "that I have had a good 
 master, a good friend, and a good servant." Then there is an 
 undated letter, written probably at the beginning of July, in 
 which he gives news to Buckingham of his having reached his 
 home at Gorhambury safely. 
 
 "My Lord" (he adds), "I wish myself by you in this stirring 
 world not for any love to place or business, for that is almost 
 gone with me, but for my love to yourself, which Can never 
 cease in 
 
 " Your Lordship's most obliged friend 
 " and true'servant, 
 
 "Fr. St. Alban 
 
 "Being now out of eare and out of sight, I recommend 
 myself to your Lordship's love and favour to maintain me in His 
 Majesty's grace and good intention." 
 
 The ex-Chancellor's speedy release, and the evident desire 
 of Buckingham and of the King and Prince to minimize his 
 punishment, aroused the hostility not only of those who had 
 directly engineered his downfall, but of political malcontents 
 among the people. The Favourite received a warning that in 
 sheltering Bacon he was putting himself into a perilous position. 
 " The rumour lately spread," says Sir Anthony Ashby, writing 
 
THE FAVOURITE AND FRANCIS BACON 119 
 
 to him before the actual release of the great prisoner, " touching 
 his majesty's untimely pardon of the late Lord Chancellor's fine 
 and imprisonment, with some other favours intended towards 
 him (said to be procured by your Lordship's only intimation) 
 hath exceedingly exasperated the rancour of the ill-affected ; 
 which albeit it be false, and unlikely because very unseasonable, 
 it doth yet serve the present turn for the increase of malice 
 against you. I can but inform your Lordship of what I under- 
 stand. You may please to make use thereof as yourself thinketh 
 best." 
 
 Buckingham entirely disregarded such warning, and in 
 answer to the many applications of Bacon for help in his dis- 
 tressed circumstances, and above all for the removal of that 
 restriction which kept him an exile from London, promised to 
 use his influence with the King. But now an episode took 
 place which proved the Favourite's uncertain temperament, and 
 was the cause of an estrangement, though less than a quarrel, 
 between him and the fallen Chancellor. Bacon being removed 
 from London, Buckingham took it into his head to covet the 
 exile's London residence, York House. It seemed to him that 
 it was of no further use to Bacon, and that in offering to pur- 
 chase it he would be doing a service to his friend, who in spite 
 of his condemnation for bribery and corruption was seriously in 
 need of money. The offer was made with great courtesy. " If 
 your Lordship or your Lady find it inconvenient for you to part 
 with the house, I would rather provide myself otherwise than 
 any way incommodate you, but will never slack anything of my 
 affection to do you service." 
 
 But Bacon had a strong affection for York House, which had 
 belonged to his father, and held so many of his great memories ; 
 and when with equal courtesy he excused himself from taking 
 advantage of the Lord Marquis's offer, it seemed, unreasonably 
 no doubt, to Buckingham a strange ingratitude in return for all 
 his friendship. In the letters that now passed between them 
 there was certainly a coolness in Buckingham's tone towards his 
 former friend, to be read rather in a more formal mode of 
 address than in actual words of disfavour ; and from various 
 references to the treaty about York House it is clear that 
 Bacon's refusal rankled with him. Bacon himself believed that 
 the delay in sending him the King's free pardon, which he had 
 
120 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 been led to expect, was directly due to this displeasure of the 
 Favourite, and he endeavoured in his letters to restore Bucking- 
 ham's good humour, though he could not bring himself to with- 
 draw his refusal to part with his town house. 
 
 The real cause why Bacon's pardon was withheld for some 
 time was the officiousness of Williams, who had succeeded him 
 as Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal, owing his appointment to a 
 sedulous flattery of the King and his favourite, and by a political 
 shrewdness in his counsels, which seemed to both his masters 
 golden in its wisdom. 
 
 Partly, no doubt, to enjoy his new power, he put impedi- 
 ments in the way of the pardon, but we may give him credit 
 for sincerity when he said that, in view of another assembling of 
 Parliament, it would be advisable to wait until after the House 
 had met and had been prorogued before he affixed his seal to a 
 pardon which might be the cause of popular complaint against 
 the King and the Marquis of Buckingham. 
 
 This delay was exasperating to the proud spirit of Francis 
 Bacon, and he stormed the Favourite, all his friends, Sir Edward 
 Sackville, the Duke of Lennox, Lord Digby, Lord Montgomery, 
 Sir Tobie Mathews, and others, and even the House of Lords, 
 in a formal petition, to have his ban removed. Unceasingly did 
 he plead with his friends to use their influence with Buckingham, 
 so that his affection might be renewed in its former warmth ; 
 nor were these friends careless in forwarding his interests — 
 indeed, the zealous way in which they schemed to obtain a 
 hearing from the Lord Admiral on behalf of the fallen Chan- 
 cellor, not only does credit to their unselfishness, but is a strik- 
 ing proof of the Favourite's power and the awe with which he 
 was regarded, even by such an exalted person as the Earl of 
 Montgomery, Lord Chamberlain of the King's Household. 
 Thus, in a letter from Bacon's servant, Thomas Meantys, to his 
 master, we read, under the date of January 7th, 1621 — 
 
 " May it please your Lordship, 
 
 "This afternoon my Lady [Lady St. Alban] found 
 access to my Lord Marquis, procured for her by my Lord of 
 Montgomery and Sir Edward Sackville, who seemed to contend 
 which of them should show most patience in waiting (which 
 they did a whole afternoon) the opportunity to bring my Lord 
 
THE FAVOURITE AND FRANCIS BACON 121 
 
 in his chamber, where my Lady attended him. But when he 
 was come she found time enough to speak at large ; and though 
 my Lord spoke so loud as that what passed was no secret to me, 
 and some others that were within hearing ; yet because my 
 Lady told me she purposeth to write to your Lordship the 
 whole passage, it becomes not me to anticipate by these, any 
 part of her Ladyship's relation." 
 
 What smoothed over the trouble between Buckingham and 
 the ex-Chancellor was an offer from the Duke of Lennox for 
 York House, and Bacon's refusal to part with it on the score 
 that if any man had it — " and no money or value shall make me 
 part with it " — it should be the Lord Marquis. This coming to 
 the ears of Buckingham had an extraordinarily soothing effect 
 upon his spirits, which had been so ruffled over what at this 
 distance of time seems so trivial a cause of anger. In the mean- 
 time also he had decided to purchase Wallingford House, near 
 Whitehall, from Lord and Lady Wallingford, of the Howard 
 family. Some said that part of the bargain was the release of 
 Somerset and his lady, and the creation of Sir Thomas Howard 
 as Viscount Andover.* 
 
 So the cause of estrangement between these two great 
 characters was at an end, and Buckingham was the first to 
 make an amende honorable. 
 
 " My Honourable Lord " (he wrote), 
 
 " Now that I am provided of a house I have thought 
 it congruous to give your Lordship notice thereof, that you 
 may no longer hang upon the treaty which hath been between 
 your Lordship and me touching York-house; [in] which I 
 assure your Lordship, I never desired to put you to the least 
 inconvenience. 
 
 " So I rest your Lordship's faithful servant, 
 
 "G. Buckingham" 
 
 Bacon answered this with expressions of thankfulness that 
 the unfortunate misunderstanding was now at an end, and 
 begged the Marquis again to approach the King on his behalf. 
 
 * Chamberlain. 
 
122 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 To this Buckingham replied in still more cordial tones, returning 
 to his former style of friendly correspondence. 
 
 " I will move his Majesty," he wrote, " to take commiseration 
 of your long imprisonment which in some respects both you and 
 I have reason to think harder than the Tower ; you for the help 
 of physic, your parley with your creditors, your conference for 
 your writings and studies, your dealing with friends about your 
 business ; and I for the advantage to be sometimes happy in 
 visiting and conversing with your Lordship, whose company I 
 am much desirous to enjoy, as being tied by ancient acquaint- 
 ance to rest always, 
 
 " Your Lordship's faithful friend and servant, 
 
 "G. Buckingham" 
 
 Curiously enough, even after this letter, he had not quite got 
 over his huff about York House, and to Sir Edward Sackville 
 and Henry Cary, Viscount Falkland, who waited on him in 
 the interests of Bacon, he referred to it as if it were still a 
 grievance. It appeared that he would not be quite satisfied 
 until the house had been given up by the ex-Chancellor to one 
 of his, the Favourite's, own friends ; and Sir Lionel Cranfield, 
 who had now been made Lord Treasurer, with the title of Earl 
 of Middlesex, was the one for whom he wished it. Sackville 
 advised Bacon to yield on this point if he wished to regain full 
 favour. 
 
 " Make the Treasurer believe that since the Marquis will by 
 no means accept of it, and that you must part with it, you are 
 more willing to pleasure him than anybody else, because you 
 are given to understand my Lord Marquis so inclines ; which 
 inclination, if the Treasurer shortly send unto you about it, 
 desire may be more clearly manifested than as yet it hath been." 
 Bacon was prevailed upon to play this game, and although he 
 had declared that " no money or value shall make me part with 
 it," finally consented to sell it to the Lord Treasurer, strictly 
 upon the understanding that it was to give pleasure to his good 
 friend the Lord Marquis. 
 
 He obtained some reward, though not all he had hoped. 
 On the 20th of March, 162 1, he wrote that "these main and real 
 favours which I have lately received from your good Lordship 
 
THE FAVOURITE AND FRANCIS BACON 123 
 
 in procuring my liberty and a reference of the consideration 
 of my relief are such as I now find that in building upon 
 your Lordship's noble nature and friendship I have built 
 upon the rock, where neither winds nor waves can cause 
 overthrow." 
 
 In some way that has not been satisfactorily explained 
 Bacon was able to serve Buckingham in the purchase of 
 New Hall, which he bought from the Earl of Sussex, in the 
 autumn of 1622 for the sum of ^"22,000.* At this period Bacon 
 also obtained the friendly interest of the Favourite's mother, 
 and perhaps owing to her influence, which was still great over 
 her son, the ex-Chancellor obtained an interview with him, and 
 by him shortly afterwards was taken to kiss the King's hands. 
 James received his old friend and servant with kindness, and 
 made provision to settle some of his debts. But though he 
 continued to court the King and Buckingham, and afterwards 
 Charles L, with pleading letters and offers of service, he was 
 ignored and neglected. New men filled his old places, and 
 those who had once sought his counsels had learnt to do with- 
 out him. The end of this sad, broken man, one of the greatest 
 of England's intellectual giants, though with a strain of moral 
 weakness which warps one's admiration of his genius, is familiar 
 to every one. Getting out of his coach near Highgate, in order 
 to experiment on the effect of cold for preserving meat by 
 stuffing a fowl with snow, he caught a mortal chill. He was 
 taken to the neighbouring house of his friend Lord Arundel, 
 then away from home, and died there on the 9th of April, 
 1626. 
 
 These details of his downfall have a place in this book only 
 because of Buckingham's relations with him ; and Buckingham 
 does not stand convicted of any want of faith in friendship. 
 Apart from the trouble over York House, which after all was 
 the cause of nothing more serious than a temporary coolness, 
 the Lord Marquis was not only without disloyalty, but warm, 
 generous, and even rash in his eagerness to save the Chancellor 
 from the consequences of his offences. So far from feeling that 
 Buckingham was guilty of desertion, he moves our admiration 
 by the courageous and gallant-hearted way in which he stood 
 by a fallen friend. As in the case of Somerset, he had been 
 
 * Chamberlain. 
 
124 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 generous to a fallen man. We feel that, whatever the moral 
 weakness of Buckingham himself, however faulty he was in his 
 public conduct, affected by the accident of his position and the 
 irresponsibility of his power, there was at the heart of him some 
 good gold. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 
 
 LOOKING back on the reign of James, one cannot fail to 
 see that its most fatal cause of trouble was the policy of 
 the Spanish party, which sought an alliance with a nation so 
 utterly divorced from ours by faith and by traditional enmity. 
 The English people, becoming more and more Puritan as the 
 customs of the old religion were forgotten, were still proud of 
 that spirit which had quickened them to great adventures in the 
 yesterdays, when Elizabeth was Queen. The sons of men who 
 had sailed with Drake round the world, or had seen his home- 
 comings when Plymouth bells rang for his triumphs ; those 
 whose fathers had captured great treasure-ships on the Spanish 
 main, who had been trained in the school of Hawkins, Gren- 
 ville, Raleigh, Frobisher, and the great Sir Francis, who told to 
 their children the story of the Armada, and a thousand tales of 
 Spanish cruelty and of English heroism that was no less cruel, 
 had in their blood a natural antagonism to the very name of 
 Spain. Prejudices founded upon horrors told by pirate seamen 
 who had once rotted in Spanish prisons, and now, in the tap- 
 rooms, were heroes of their village, and religious hatred fostered 
 by Puritan preachers, to whom Rome was Babylon and the 
 Pope the Scarlet Woman, fanned the flame of popular passion 
 against the Catholic nation, which in the last reign had been 
 humiliated by English seamen. 
 
 Yet there were men in England so out of touch with the 
 national spirit, or so reckless of it, that they wished to draw 
 close to Spain, and to buy its friendship by a Royal alliance. 
 The infamous Somerset, as he was popularly regarded after the 
 scandal of Overbury's murder, had proposed that the Heir to the 
 throne should seek his wife in Spain ; and though now Somerset 
 
 .125 
 
126 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 was down, this policy had been steadily pressed forward by 
 those who followed him in power, and by those who had put 
 such thoughts into his brain. For a long time there had been 
 secret correspondence on this subject between the two courts, 
 and tentative negotiations, yet not so secret that some news had 
 leaked out and caused grave uneasiness in the people's mind. 
 
 In 1618, however, an event happened which plunged Europe 
 into the last and most terrible of the great religious wars, and 
 for a time made it seem as if war between England and Spain 
 was now inevitable. The Lutherans of Bohemia, finding their 
 faith and political independence threatened by the House of 
 Austria, offered their crown to Frederic, the Calvinist leader of 
 German Protestantism, and the son-in-law of King James. 
 Before accepting an offer which flattered his vanity and ambi- 
 tion, but brought with it a perilous responsibility, Frederic sent 
 over to England to ask the advice of his wife's father. James 
 was terribly embarrassed at the news. He had listened to the 
 overtures of Gondomar, the Spanish ambassador, for a Spanish 
 match with his son, and he was not blind to the inevitable con- 
 sequence of a quarrel with Spain if he supported his son-in-law's 
 new title against the House of Austria. Nor, with his convic- 
 tions as to the Divine Right of Kings, could he honestly acquiesce 
 in Frederic's acceptance of a crown at the hands of a rebellious 
 people. In spite, therefore, of his genuine love for his daughter 
 Elizabeth, and his affection for her husband, James delayed 
 giving any answer to Frederic's appeal for advice, and suf- 
 fered himself to be cajoled and bullied by the Spanish ambas- 
 sador, whose instructions were to keep England neutral while 
 Spanish troops went to the assistance of the Austrian House to 
 recapture the revolting kingdom of Bohemia. But in the mean- 
 while Frederic decided for himself and accepted the proffered 
 crown, which was placed upon his head at Prague. James was 
 now deeply annoyed, and Buckingham, who had a personal 
 dislike to Frederic, followed his master's mood, and openly 
 declared that the Elector had mounted too high a horse, and 
 must be pulled off. But in a little while events followed which 
 caused a great revulsion of feeling, and aroused, indeed, in 
 England a passionate outburst of public opinion, which swept 
 with it the King himself, the Prince, Buckingham, and all but 
 the Catholic party in the nation. 
 
THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 127 
 
 The German Protestants over which Frederic now ruled 
 were hopelessly divided against themselves. The Lutherans 
 hated the Calvinists worse almost than they hated Catholics, 
 and when they were threatened by an invasion of Austrian and 
 Spanish troops, internal conflicts prevented a combined and 
 heroic defence, which perhaps would have enabled them to 
 defeat Spinola himself, the greatest general of the age, had they 
 been passionately inspired by one faith. In October of 1620 
 Spinola and a Spanish army pounced like devouring tigers, not 
 upon Bohemia, which James had believed was their objective, but 
 upon the Palatinate itself, capturing the fortress town of Kreuz- 
 nach. Frederic found that he had accepted a crown of sorrows, 
 but with a courage and a pride that was not without nobility, 
 though it cost many thousands of honest lives, he refused to 
 surrender what the Bohemian people had unanimously given 
 to him. 
 
 When James learnt that, in spite of all that the Spanish 
 ambassador had given him to believe, the Spaniards had invaded 
 the actual territory of his son-in-law, he was moved to hysterical 
 rage, and turned upon the man who had deceived him, as he 
 thought, with false assurances. For the first time he decided for 
 resolute action on behalf of his daughter's husband, and he had 
 behind him the intense and passionate sympathy of every 
 English Protestant. Buckingham, easily swayed by the mood 
 of the moment, forgot his favour of a Spanish alliance, and was 
 all for war. The Prince was no less eager, and young English 
 gentlemen, stirred by a love of adventure, and some of them 
 with a chivalrous desire to defend the Protestant faith in 
 Germany, poured out to the Palatinate with the offer of their 
 swords. The King's Council resolved to raise a " Benevolence " 
 in order to provide an army, and the Prince of Wales led the 
 fund by ^5000, Buckingham promising £1000, and the other 
 councillors putting themselves down for subscriptions in pro- 
 portion to their wealth and rank. But though the nation was in 
 a warlike mood, subscriptions did not flow in as readily as the 
 Council had hoped. There were men in England who were 
 already preparing the way for Hampden, and did not admit the 
 legality of a forced war. There were many more who were 
 quick to open their hearts to the distressed Protestants of 
 Germany, but slow to open their purses. So it was found 
 
128 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 necessary to call a Parliament, and when it met it was, as we 
 have seen, more ready to examine into abuses of the realm, and 
 to impeach the Ministers of the Crown for corruption, than to 
 grant subsidies. Yet, in return for the surrender of the King 
 and Buckingham over the patents, they voted supplies to the 
 extent of ^160,000, and though this was far short of the half- 
 million which had been asked for, it was enough to raise a very 
 formidable force. An army of adventurers went out to enlist 
 under Frederic's banners, and some of the bravest feats of the war 
 were done by these English gentlemen. But it was a horrible 
 and disastrous campaign. In October of 1620 the Bohemians had 
 been massacred outside the walls of Prague, and on the follow- 
 ing day Frederic fled into the passes of the Silesian mountains. 
 From that time defeat followed defeat, and retreat retreat, until 
 Frederic, the son-in-law of the English King, was a fugitive 
 without a home, and without a crown. 
 
 In all the warlike preparations in England, which had but a 
 feeble issue, and in all the ceaseless diplomacy of the German, 
 Dutch, and Spanish agents in London, the former urging the 
 King to move the whole strength of the nation to defend 
 Protestantism in Europe, the latter holding him back by cajolery 
 and threats, Buckingham played a vacillating part. In the 
 first stages of the war, after the invasion of the Palatinate, he 
 was one of the most ardent of the war party, but his energies v, 
 were more engaged in securing commands for his own friends, 
 such as Sir Edward Cecil, who had done brave service in the 
 Low Countries — in which he was not always successful — than in 
 formulating a definite and strong policy of war in the Cabinet. 
 Later he cooled down, and became more and more under the 
 influence of the wily little Spanish diplomatist, who with equal 
 audacity and ingenuity had kept the King from breaking alto- 
 gether with his friendly relations to Spain. When Frederic had 
 lost everything, Gondomar persuaded the King that the only 
 hope for his son-in-law was an alliance between England and 
 Spain, with the restitution of the Palatinate as part of the 
 bargain, and the marriage negotiations, which had been inter- 
 rupted, but never wholly abandoned, owing to the religious 
 war in Germany, were now renewed more seriously. 
 
 Certainly, Gondomar was the evil genius of England at this 
 time, though an evil genius who was also a charming gentleman, 
 
COUNT GONDOMAR 
 
 AFTER THE PORTRAIT BY G. r. HARDING 
 
THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 129 
 
 a courteous, witty, and genial soul, and not therefore less 
 dangerous. Upon coming to the English Court, he had quite 
 won the heart of James by listening with inexhaustible patience 
 to his hunting stories, and by constant and careful flattery of his 
 pedantic wisdom. He had also made close friends with the 
 young Prince and with Buckingham, who, before the trouble in 
 the Palatinate, had found his gaiety and his grace quite irresis- 
 tible. With the ladies he was specially a favourite, and this 
 increased his influence, the Court being under petticoat govern- 
 ment in social ways even in James's days. He lived in Ely Place 
 in Holborn, and his passage to the Court, says Arthur Wilson, 
 was ordinarily through Drury Lane (Covent Garden being then an 
 enclosed field), and that Lane, and the Strand, being the places 
 where most of the quality lived, the ladies, as he went, knowing 
 his time, would stand in their balconies and windows to watch 
 him pass, to flutter handkerchiefs, and give their smiles to the 
 gay little Spaniard, who waved to them from his coach. 
 
 He was just the man to find favour with Geordie Villiers, 
 and good diplomatist as he was, in spite of his social charm, 
 or because of it, he used this friendship with the Favourite 
 to whisper a hint in his ear. Prince Charles was old enough to 
 marry, and correspondence was a weary thing to settle a treaty 
 in which love was the stake. Why not bring the Prince to 
 Spain, so that he might see the Infanta before definitely 
 engaging himself? She was a beautiful girl, worth seeing, and 
 once in Madrid, there would be no difficulty in arranging terms 
 of marriage. It would be a gay adventure, and Buckingham 
 would get all the credit of it. 
 
 To George Villiers the idea appealed wonderfully. It 
 touched his imagination. He saw already the brilliant Court of 
 Spain dazzled by his magnificence. He saw himself loaded 
 with new honours, and securing for ever the gratitude of the 
 Prince, who would one day be king. Doubtless, also, he honestly 
 believed, as the King was induced to believe, that if the match 
 were concluded the Spaniards would restore the Palatinate, 
 though not Bohemia, to the son-in-law of King James and the 
 brother-in-law of their Princess's husband. This seemed the 
 only chance of restoration. Digby, Lord Bristol, who, as our 
 ambassador in Spain, and our wisest and noblest diplomatist, 
 had gained the sincere friendship of the Spanish King and 
 
130 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Court, had failed, in spite of that, to arrest the progress of 
 Spanish arms in Frederic's territory, and when he had gone on 
 a special mission to Vienna to intercede for the fugitive monarch, 
 he had failed again to arrange a compromise between the 
 Austrian House and the Elector, who still claimed sovereignty 
 over the revolted subjects of Bohemia. But where Digby's 
 diplomacy had failed, it was possible, so George Villiers 
 thought, that the sentiment of a chivalrous adventurer and of a 
 Royal marriage might be successful. 
 
 Yes, Gondomar's suggestion was good, and full of romantic 
 possibilities for Buckingham to play the gallant in. Letters 
 passed between Gondomar and the Favourite, between Gondo- 
 mar and his own Court, between Buckingham and Bristol, our 
 ambassador in Spain, with whom the idea found little encourage- 
 ment. The proposed journey was kept secret from the King 
 and all others, though formal negotiations for a marriage treaty 
 were now in active progress. Gondomar played his cards well, 
 and he kept Buckingham's mind fastened to the adventurous 
 idea by artful flattery, by exciting his vanity, and by promises 
 to smooth over any religious difficulties in the way of a contract 
 between the Catholic Infanta and the Protestant Prince. Buck- 
 ingham believed that Gondomar spoke with full authority from 
 the Spanish Court, and entered into a secret agreement with 
 him, to which Prince Charles was a party. To the Prince the 
 idea was no less appealing in its romance, and the influence of 
 Buckingham's magnetic personality and infectious enthusiasm 
 made Charles an easy victim in the hands of his two coun- 
 sellors. 
 
 Gondomar left England in the summer of 1622, and when he 
 said good-bye to all his friends at the English Court they knew 
 that his business at home would be to press forward the long- 
 discussed match. But the majority of English courtiers were 
 doubtful that the marriage would ever take place. One of them, 
 the King's kinsman and trusted friend, old Ludowic Stuart, 
 Duke of Lennox, and afterwards Duke of Richmond, a Scot- 
 tish nobleman of the old type of rugged chivalry, put a blunt 
 question to Gondomar before he left. " My lord," he said, " deal 
 plainly with me ; shall we have a match or no ? " 
 
 But the one thing impossible to the little Spanish Count was 
 plain dealing, and his answer to the Duke was long and full of 
 
THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 131 
 
 " ifs " and " buts." He protested that the King of Spain was 
 serious in his intentions, and had already proceeded far in the 
 business, and made great promises, which to doubt would be 
 to do him a great wrong. But of course he could not give his 
 dearly beloved daughter to the Prince without safeguarding her 
 religious liberty, and that of her followers. Ludowic Stuart 
 listened to much garrulity of the same kind, and when the little 
 Spaniard had gone, turned to his friends and declared that 
 nothing would come of this proposed marriage. 
 
 Philip III. died, and Philip IV., his son, reigned in his stead. 
 New negotiations were set on foot between the two Courts, and 
 Gondomar, writing from Madrid, encouraged the King and his 
 two " sweete boys " to think that there were now but few diffi- 
 culties in the way. In September of 1622 he wrote to James, 
 that "with all seriousness, I will discover to you the great desire 
 of the King, my master, not only for the conclusion of this 
 business, but also that it should be concluded with all brevity, 
 and that the points touching to religion give so much satisfaction 
 to the Pope, that he may not only grant us the dispensation we 
 desire, but that he may be obliged to grant it. And I assure 
 you, that here we are disposing and facilitating all in the best 
 possible way, for Mons. Don Balthazar de Zuniga has under- 
 taken the negociation of this affair with particular and great 
 affection. And since it chiefly depends upon your Majesty and 
 his highness the Prince (God preserve him), one cannot doubt of 
 the brief conclusion of it ; and in case there should be any cause 
 to doubt, I will declare at once, and will say with reason, 
 that the fault of it will fall upon your Majesty and his High- 
 ness ; for the rest, I refer to that which my Lord Digby will 
 write to you, who in truth proceeds here with great care and 
 prudence." 
 
 There was not a word in this letter to James of the proposed 
 journey to Spain of the Prince and Buckingham. Gondomar 
 knew that such a proposal would alarm the King beyond 
 measure. For he believed that Buckingham's personal influence 
 over James and Charles would carry this point, and in the same 
 month, of September, 1622, he wrote to the Favourite a letter 
 which reveals the secret agreement between them, and in which 
 he endeavoured to allay any scruples that Buckingham might 
 have. 
 
132 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 " My Good Lord, 
 
 " I may say to your Excellency with great sincerity 
 that I write to you at all times and at all hours with the 
 willingness and remembrance of a cordial love and respect which 
 I feel and owe to your Excellency ; and God knows the 
 pleasure it would give me to walk with you in the open gallery 
 which leads from your Excellency's chamber to the palace on 
 the Thames, for there are subjects which are more fit for personal 
 communication than to be entrusted to writing, and especially 
 in the French language. What I may say and do in every 
 language is that the King my master desires the marriage of 
 his sister with the Prince of Wales with a steady and constant 
 resolve ; and that on all sides the doubt proposed by the Pope 
 should be facilitated and satisfied, and that all should be finished 
 by the post. Indeed in the short time that has elapsed since 
 my arrival here, it has been impossible to do more, and much 
 has been done. And thus I trust in God we shall soon see each 
 other here in this country, and embrace each other according to 
 the agreement, and together joyously return to Great Britain. 
 All the rest I entrust to Mr. Cottington, who is to depart next 
 week (if it please God), and by him Mons. le Comte de 
 Olivares and Mons. Don Balthazar de Zuniga will reply to the 
 favour of your letter, which they have estimated as they should 
 do. So I will not trouble your Excellency any more to-day, 
 but will only beg you to kiss the hands most affectionately on 
 my part and on the part of the Countess my wife, of Madame 
 la Comtesse, your mother, and Madame la Marquise, and little 
 Mary Villiers. May God give her many brothers, and preserve 
 her father as many happy years as I desire. 
 
 " From your Excellency's very humble 
 
 " and very affectionate servant 
 
 " Madrid, September 20, 1622 
 
 " In my room I have the portrait of the Marquis of Bucking- 
 ham, my good lord and true friend, and all the world says that 
 he has the countenance of a good fellow. — GONDOMAR " * 
 
 During the autumn of 1622 and in the New Year of 1623 
 letters continued to pass between the two Courts on the subject 
 
 * Bishop Goodman's " Memoirs." 
 
THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 133 
 
 of the proposed marriage, and Buckingham, who had quite won 
 over the Prince to the idea of the journey to Madrid to fetch 
 back his bride (though not a word had been breathed to James), 
 began to weary of his protracted correspondence. The Infanta 
 would grow old before she became a wife ! So thought Baby 
 Charles and dog Steenie, two impatient young men, when they 
 had an unfulfilled desire. 
 
 It was on a morning in February of 1623 that the King's 
 " sweete boys " went to their " dear dad " and bound him over 
 to secrecy before they revealed a new plan they had in mind. 
 The Prince then went down on his knees and unfolded his warm 
 desire to go to Spain in person to fetch back his bride, while 
 Buckingham stood by carelessly as if he had very little to do with 
 the idea, saving in friendship to the Prince. But the King, after 
 hearing his son, his emotion stirred as usual by any appeal to 
 his affections, turned to the Marquis with a questioning face, as 
 though anxious to hear what he had to say. Buckingham then 
 launched forth at large, not discussing the prudence of the 
 proposition, but dilating on the infinite obligation the King 
 would confer on his son by yielding to his amorous passion, with 
 which he was possessed. He vowed that if this humble request 
 were refused, the Prince would be sorely cast down in spirit, and 
 would, he feared, look upon it as the greatest affliction that 
 could befall him in this world.* 
 
 The Prince took up the cue, and protested that such a plan 
 would smooth over all the difficulties that had been put in the 
 way of the marriage. His presence in Madrid would soon 
 settle the terms of the treaty, and he would guarantee that it 
 would result in the restitution of the Palatinate to his sister's 
 husband, which, after the Prince's own happiness, was the thing 
 most passionately desired by the King. 
 
 " These discourses," says Lord Clarendon, who describes the 
 details of this scene, " urged with all the artifice and address 
 imaginable, so far wrought upon and prevailed with the King, 
 that with less hesitation than his nature was accustomed to, and 
 much less than was agreeable to his great wisdom, he gave his 
 approbation, and promised that the prince should make the 
 journey he was so much inclined to." 
 
 Having extracted this promise from poor old James, the two 
 
 * Clarendon. 
 
134 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 young men went on to explain the details of their scheme. 
 There had been some talk formerly of the fleet going to Spain 
 under Buckingham as admiral, and it was with the idea that the 
 Prince should sail to the Spanish coast that the King had 
 yielded. But now it was explained that these two young men 
 were not prepared to wait until the fleet could be got ready, but 
 proposed to set out secretly, and to ride overland to Spain 
 through France, incognito, reaching the frontier before they 
 should be missed at Whitehall. To these further details James 
 listened doubtfully, but having been worked up to a feeling of 
 paternal fondness, he did not immediately repent of his consent. 
 
 It was only when he retired to his own rooms, postponing 
 the consultation till the next day, that the poor old man gradu- 
 ally became terrified at the thought of this extraordinary adven- 
 ture. He then realized how full of danger it all was, how likely 
 to offend the people and the Court, how probable it was that 
 the Spaniards would take advantage of the Prince's presence to 
 coerce him into conditions repugnant to the principles of his 
 own nation. God knows what might happen. Princes before 
 now had been kept prisoners in foreign countries. 
 
 The journey through France in disguise was full of possible 
 perils. In any case, the absence of the Heir from England 
 would be a source of grave anxiety to the whole country, and 
 the loss of his two boys a great grief to their old dad and 
 gossip. A thousand vague fears floated up in the King's mind, 
 filling him with a sense of impending calamity, and robbing him 
 of all peace and quiet of mind. 
 
 When Charles and Buckingham waited on him the next 
 day, "he fell into a great passion of tears," says Clarendon, 
 " and told them that he was undone, and that it would break 
 his heart if they pursued in their resolution." He put before 
 them all the fears that had oppressed him over-night, and 
 pointed out to them how disastrously their journey might end. 
 
 But the two young men were as obstinate as youth often is 
 when set upon any course of action. They did not take the 
 pains to answer the King's arguments. Charles reminded his 
 father of his "sacred promise." Buckingham, knowing the 
 weakness of the master who had made him, treated him with 
 insolent and bullying behaviour. He vowed that nobody would 
 believe any word the King spoke if he drew back from a promise 
 
THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 135 
 
 so solemnly made, and swore that he must have already broken 
 his word by which he had pledged himself to secrecy, for some 
 scoundrel must have provided him with all these pitiful argu- 
 ments. If that were so, Buckingham would find the man out 
 and take vengeance on him. Meanwhile, if the King withdrew 
 his promise, it would be such an offence to the Prince, who had 
 now set his heart on the journey, that he would never forget it, 
 nor forgive any man who had been the cause of it. 
 
 James shrank before this blustering insolence from the man 
 he loved so well, and seeing the advantage, Buckingham and 
 Charles thereupon discussed the details of the journey as though 
 it were now a settled thing, and mentioned that they were taking 
 with them Sir Francis Cottington, the Prince's secretary, who 
 had been long in residence at the Court of Spain, where he had 
 gained great credit for his obliging behaviour and honesty, and 
 Endymion Porter, who in his youth had been a page in the 
 household of Olivares, the Spanish Prime Minister, and had 
 also travelled recently with despatches between the two Courts. 
 
 James seized the chance of sending for Cottington at once, 
 and when he came, knowing nothing of the secret, the King, in 
 a broken voice, told him that he had always been an honest 
 man, and therefore he was now to trust him in an affair of the 
 highest importance, which he was not upon his life to disclose 
 to any one. 
 
 "Cottington," he said, after this preface, "here is baby 
 Charles and Steeny, who have a great mind to go by post into 
 Spain, to fetch home the Infanta, and will have but two more 
 in their company, and have chosen you for one. What think you 
 of the journey ? " 
 
 Francis Cottington, staggered by this astounding news, fell 
 into such a fit of trembling that he could hardly speak. But 
 upon the King asking him again what he thought of the journey, 
 he blurted out that it would be a fatal mistake, and would undo 
 all that had been done towards the marriage, because, having 
 the Prince in their hands, the Spaniards would make new 
 demands, which could not be acceptable to the English. 
 
 Hearing this, the King threw himself on to his bed in an 
 agony of grief. "I told you this before," he cried. "I am 
 undone. I shall lose my baby Charles ! " * 
 
 * Clarendon. 
 
136 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 The Prince and Buckingham were both filled with anger, 
 and Buckingham, turning to Cottington, burst out into a torrent 
 of abuse against him. 
 
 "The King asked you only about the journey," he said, 
 "upon which you were competent to advise, having made the 
 way so often by post ; but you have had the presumption to give 
 your advice upon a matter of State, and against your master, 
 without being asked for it. You shall repent this as long as 
 you live." 
 
 So he went on with passionate oaths and reproaches until 
 James at last intervened. 
 
 " Nay, by God, Steeny," he cried, with emotion, " you are 
 very much to blame to use him so. He answered me very 
 directly the question I asked him, and very honestly and wisely : 
 and yet you know he said no more than I told you before he 
 was called in." 
 
 The scene continued until James found all his arguments 
 and entreaties vain against the obstinacy of his two "sweete 
 boys," and at last .gave in weakly, and agreed to the journey and 
 to his former pledge. 
 
 Buckingham now made his final plans for the great adventure 
 with the utmost secrecy and with his usual masterfulness. The 
 King, whose will was now quite broken down by the impetuosity 
 of Charles and Steenie, carried out their wishes meekly, with no 
 more than silent protest. 
 
 It was on a Monday that he went down to Theobald's with 
 his Court, and on the following day he rode over to Royston 
 with the Prince, Buckingham, and some others. It was there 
 given out before all ears that His Majesty had granted leave to 
 the Prince to be absent two or three days with the Lord 
 Marquis. 
 
 Then a little comedy was played, though to the King it was 
 pitiful tragedy. The two adventurers rode up to James as he 
 sat his horse among mounted courtiers who were to form his 
 escort to Newmarket, and with their usual familiarity sufficiently 
 touched with deference, took an easy farewell of him, as though 
 they would not long be absent from his Royal sunshine. James 
 played up as he had been rehearsed in his part. 
 
 " See that you be with me on Friday night," he said, loud 
 enough for all his company to hear. 
 
THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 137 
 
 Buckingham, with a flickering smile, but very pleased with 
 his game, said, " Sir, if we should stay a day or two longer, l" 
 hope your Majesty should pardon us." 
 
 "Well, well," quoth the King, indulgently, looking into the 
 eyes of the careless Favourite. Disturbed as he was with a great 
 uneasiness, and with many vague fears for what might come out 
 of this wild escapade, he held his emotions in rein. 
 
 " The King," says Bishop Goodman, " did then express no 
 passion at all ; he never looked back, or expressed any the least 
 sorrow ; for he was an excellent master of his own affections, if 
 you should give him a little respite, and not take him suddenly. 
 He carried himself as if there were no such thing intended ; and 
 so he took his journey through Royston and Newmarket." 
 
 We can give some pity to poor James, who must have rode on 
 his way silently after that parting, which had no significance for 
 those in his company, but to him was a thing of terror. It was 
 bad enough for one of his cringing temperament to face some 
 months without the company of those two whom he truly loved 
 best in the world. But he feared the storm and indignation of the 
 nation when they should learn that the Heir had gone overseas 
 to Spain to arrange that hated match with the Catholic Infanta, 
 and the inevitable reproaches of his Lords for having kept from 
 them a secret so pregnant with fate. 
 
 But Buckingham and his Prince were like schoolboys 
 playing truant, not without secret misgivings as to the conse- 
 quences of their naughtiness, yet rejoicing in the sense of 
 mystery and adventure of a kind not generally experienced by 
 a prince and a marquis. They rode with a small company, but 
 took occasion to dismiss these gentlemen, one this way, another 
 that, on plausible missions which raised no suspicion. Then 
 they rode hard to Buckingham's own house, New Hall, where 
 they stayed the night. Kate Villiers must have known by this 
 time the secret of the journey, and she, poor wife, must have wept 
 on her husband's shoulder at the thought of his long absence 
 from her at a Court where there were many ladies of beauty and 
 frailty with which her handsome George would be merry, while 
 she stayed alone in her great house. 
 
 History is always unkind in its silences, and one would give 
 much to get a glimpse of that evening when Steenie and Baby 
 Charles and the fair Kate sat together in the panelled hall, with 
 
138 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 its flickering torches, talking over the adventure that would 
 begin with the coming of another day. We can imagine 
 Buckingham, fired with excitement, laughing gaily at his wife's 
 timid fears, playing the gracious host and familiar friend to that 
 Prince whom he had beguiled into this knight-errantry, and 
 Charles himself, with his pale dignity, his grave lustrous eyes, 
 smiling a little at his friend's vivacity, giving thanks with his 
 exquisite courtesy for the sweet service of his hostess, and per- 
 mitting himself, when alone with Buckingham, to show some 
 anxiety as to what should happen after this night. But we can 
 only guess at this, and see in imagination how, next morning 
 early, Kate clung to her husband as he kissed her good-bye, and 
 whispered her to keep a good heart, and believe in his love 
 and faithfulness towards her. The best part of Buckingham 
 was his domestic affections, and from his letters and Kate's we 
 know that there was a very deep tenderness between the husband 
 and wife. There was no doubt some tearing at his heartstrings 
 when he waved hands to her as she stood on the steps of New 
 Hall. 
 
 But it was a day in February and spring was in the air, and 
 before Buckingham and the Prince, who bent low over his horse 
 to give his white hand to Mistress Villiers, there was a gallant 
 and joyous errantry, with some dragons in the path, perhaps, but, 
 beyond, a beautiful Princess, the magnificence of an Imperial 
 Court, and all the merry sport of intrigue and adventure. So it 
 was with gaiety that Buckingham rode by the Prince's saddle 
 into the pale gleam of the February sun. 
 
 There was another with them now, Sir Richard Graham, 
 master of horse to the Lord Marquis, "and of inward trust 
 about him." * These three rode on swiftly towards Gravesend. 
 The Prince and the Marquis had now disguised themselves by 
 putting on false beards, and dubbed themselves " Thomas and 
 John Smith." To princes and great lords it is as piquant to 
 pose as plain gentlemen as it is for these to give themselves 
 fictitious titles, and no doubt Prince Charles and his friend 
 made very merry with their new humility of rank. 
 
 Getting to the river by Gravesend, they had their first alarm. 
 This was due, not, as is common with adventurers, to lack of 
 money, but to an excess of wealth. Buckingham, with all his 
 
 * Wotton. 
 
THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 139 
 
 forethought, had forgotten to change any of his gold into silver, 
 and when it came to paying the ferryman to take them across, 
 they were fain to give him a piece of two-and-twenty shillings. 
 Such a fare was like a miracle to the boatman, who would have 
 tugged his forelock for a groat. " It struck the poor fellow into 
 such a melting tenderness that so good gentlemen should be 
 going (for so he suspected) about some quarrel beyond sea, as 
 he could not forbear to acquaint the officers of the town with 
 what had befallen him." * 
 
 It was with some trouble that the little cavalcade got free of 
 such solicitude, but they rode away from their pursuers, and 
 through the old High Street of Rochester. 
 
 When they got to the brow of the hill beyond that city they 
 had a new and nasty shock. Coming towards them was a lumber- 
 ing coach, panelled with the Royal arms, and an escort of gentle- 
 men on horseback. To their consternation, Buckingham and the 
 Prince recognized this little procession to be the train of an 
 ambassador from Spain, escorted by Sir Lewis Lewknor and Sir 
 Henry Mainwaring.f If they came face to face, they would be 
 discovered at once, in spite of false beards, and this thought 
 seized them so forcibly that, as Sir Henry Wotton says, with 
 a touch of humour, it " made them baulk the beaten road, and 
 teach post-hacknies to leap hedges." 
 
 Their laughter must have rung out heartily when the noise of 
 the rumbling wheels and horses' hoofs died off in the distance, 
 but at the time, reining up their horses behind the shelter of the 
 hedges, they had had some anxious moments with bated breath. 
 
 From Rochester the three horsemen went on to Canterbury, 
 riding under the shadow of the Cathedral, along a way where in 
 earlier England a constant stream of pilgrims had thronged 
 towards the shrine of Becket. Here they put up for refreshment 
 at a hostelry, but as they were taking fresh horses they were 
 startled by the sudden arrival of the Mayor with some of his 
 officers, who, with blunt speech and with all the pomposity of 
 his office, said he must arrest them. It was a curious incident, 
 mysterious to the travellers, but the explanation of it is that 
 Mainwaring, suspecting the runaway horsemen to be conspira- 
 tors, sent a messenger to Canterbury with orders to have them 
 
 * Wotton. 
 
 t Wotton says it was the French ambassador, but this is a mistake. 
 
140 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 stopped. The Mayor lied a little on his own account in his zeal 
 to carry out his instructions, though it is clear that he neither 
 knew nor guessed the identity of the travellers. First he said he 
 had a warrant from the Council to stop them. Then, argued 
 down on this point, alleged that he had one from Sir Lewis 
 Lewknor, the master of the ceremonies. This must have tickled 
 the Prince and Buckingham, for to be arrested on the order of 
 this professor of etiquette and merry gentleman would be like 
 the King arrested by his Court Fool. But the Mayor then 
 played his best card, and seeing that his jest had produced 
 levity, said bluntly that Sir Henry Mainwaring, the Lieutenant 
 of Dover Castle, had given him orders to stop these three 
 horsemen. 
 
 Sir Henry Wotton, who gives the most detailed narrative of 
 the first part of this journey, though with some inaccuracies, 
 says that "at all this confused fiction the Marquis had no 
 leisure to laugh, but thought best to dismask his beard, and so 
 told him that he was going covertly with such slight company 
 to take a secret view (being Admiral) of the forwardness of His 
 Majesty's fleet, which was then in preparation on the narrow 
 seas. This, with so much ado, did somewhat handsomely heal 
 the disguisement." 
 
 So, breathing again after this perilous interruption, the 
 travellers pushed on and reached Dover that night. On the 
 way the " baggage post-boy," who had been at Court, " got a 
 glimmering who they were, but his mouth was easily shut." 
 
 There was stormy weather at sea, and a gale blowing over- 
 head, when Prince Charles, Steenie, and Graham reached their 
 port, after a long day's ride. There was no prospect of crossing 
 until the morning, but the three men must have been glad of a 
 good excuse to stretch their legs in a comfortable inn and dine 
 with ease. 
 
 Two friends were waiting for them, having been sent secretly 
 in advance to provide a vessel for the Channel passage. These 
 were Sir Francis Cottington, Secretary to the Prince, who had 
 so raised Buckingham's displeasure by his opposition to the 
 journey, and Mr. Endymion Porter. Sir Francis had been chosen 
 to accompany Prince Charles, partly, as we have seen, because 
 the King trusted his experience and steady wisdom, and also 
 because he was familiar with the Court of Spain. Endymion 
 
THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 141 
 
 Porter, who had also been in Spain, and had a perfect knowledge 
 of the language, belonged to the Prince's bedchamber, and was 
 close in his master's confidence. He was also Buckingham's 
 good servant, and had conducted his correspondence with Spain 
 over this proposed marriage. Indeed, he had previously gone 
 on to prepare the way for this journey, which was not so secret, 
 or unexpected by the Spanish Court, as it is commonly sup- 
 posed. There was a certain romance in the character and person 
 of this gentleman which made him a fitting companion to two 
 such travellers as the stately Charles and the magnificent 
 Marquis. He was a poet of some tenderness and grace, and 
 used a good fortune to extend a brotherly patronage to other 
 poets poorer than he. Afterwards, in the troublous times of 
 Charles's reign, he was unswervingly faithful to the Royalist 
 cause, and suffered severe poverty and exile for his fidelity. 
 There is a portrait of him in the National Gallery, which shows 
 that he had a handsome, oval face, rather womanish in its soft- 
 ness, with flowing brown hair and luminous eyes — a typical 
 cavalier poet. 
 
 In the inn at Dover there was now a party of five, "the whole 
 Parade of the Journey," says Wotton, and the next morning 
 they got on board ship. Bishop Goodman says that an order 
 was given by the Prince and Buckingham to stop the ports, so 
 that there should be no passage for eight or ten days. Bucking- 
 ham, as Lord Admiral of the Fleet, could give such an order, 
 but if he did so the journey could no lo-nger be a secret, and 
 from a passage in Lord Herbert of Cherbury's autobiography 
 it is clear that the presence of the Prince was unsuspected in 
 Dover. 
 
 At five o'clock on Wednesday morning the vessel put to sea, 
 and during the first part of the passage both Charles and 
 Buckingham were very sea-sick.* At two o'clock in the after- 
 noon of the same day their vessel put in at Boulogne, where the 
 five Englishmen landed, taking horses at once, and riding hard, 
 " like men of dispatch," until they reached Montreuil that night. 
 Here they put up, but on the second day continued their journey 
 to Paris. 
 
 They did not get there without some repetition of those 
 encounters which had broken the road on the way to Dover. 
 
 * Letter from the Prince and Marquis to James. (Goodman's " Memoirs.") 
 
142 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 An English gentleman returning to his own country met the 
 travellers and stared hard at them in their rich dress ; stopping 
 before two of the horsemen riding behind, whom he believed to 
 be in their company, he said, " I pray, where are the Prince and 
 the Marquis going?" "Truly," was the answer, "I left them 
 both at Court." "Truly," said the gentleman, "yonder is a 
 couple as like them as ever I saw in my life." 
 
 When about three posts before Paris, they met two German 
 gentlemen who had seen the Prince and the Marquis taking coach 
 together when they had been in England at Newmarket, and 
 remembered them so well that they could not help believing 
 they recognized them. They argued the matter out with 
 Richard Graham, but he outfaced them so steadily, and laughed 
 so heartily at their mistake, as he called it, that they went off at 
 last, though not wholly convinced against the evidence of their 
 eyes.* 
 
 It was the first time Prince Charles had been to Paris, that 
 city of magnificence and squalor, of great palaces and many 
 churches, of narrow streets with gabled houses and innumerable 
 inns, the very capital of romance and passionate adventure, 
 where love and death went hand-in-hand, and political intrigue 
 in the Court had for its tools the poor devils of the taverns. 
 
 " This town," says Howell, describing the Paris of this time 
 in his " Familiar Letters," that ever-delightful book of gossip, 
 " is always dirty, and 'tis such a dirt, that by perpetual motion 
 is beaten into such black unctuous oil that where it sticks no art 
 can wash it off. . . . Besides the stain this dirt leaves, it gives 
 also so strong a scent that it may be smelt many miles off if the 
 wind be in one's face as he comes from the fresh air of the country." 
 
 Buckingham knew Paris well, having spent a year or more of 
 his youth here, and he piloted his Prince and companions to an 
 inn in the Rue St. Jacques, where they could have quiet and 
 comfort. Here, after scribbling a letter to the old dad and 
 gossip in England, who would be eating his heart out to hear 
 from them, they sallied forth to see the sights. To disguise their 
 faces, which might be recognized by many French gentlemen who 
 had been to England, they bought two full wigs, and wearing 
 these the King's governor and his son succeeded, through the cus- 
 tomary politeness of the French to English visitors, in getting a 
 
 * Wotton, Goodman. 
 
THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 143 
 
 glimpse of the Queen-mother, the great, and now very fat, Marie 
 de Medicis, the wife of Henri IV., and the strong-willed mother 
 of Louis XIII., a young man who had been deliberately brought 
 up in ignorance, but who was now asserting his sovereign will 
 under the guidance of his friend and first minister, De Luynes. 
 
 The Queen-mother was at dinner when Prince Charles and 
 Buckingham passed through her chamber, availing themselves 
 of that extraordinary privilege belonging to the Parisians to see 
 the Blood Royal at table — a fashion which afterwards gave such 
 acute annoyance to Marie Antoinette. In the evening they 
 obtained admission to a masked ball at Court, where all the 
 magnificence and beauty of Paris were displayed. The young 
 Princess Henrietta, the King's sister, was there, and Charles 
 first looked upon the beautiful young creature who was after- 
 wards to be his Queen, though he was on his way to woo 
 another. And Buckingham's eyes, roving round the painted 
 chamber where the lords and ladies of France were dancing, 
 saw the fair girl-queen Anne of Austria, sister to Philip of Spain 
 and to the Infanta, with whom at a later period, on another 
 visit to France, he dared to enter into an amorous intrigue. 
 
 Returning to the inn in the Rue St. Jacques, flushed with 
 the excitement of these scenes, the Prince and the Marquis sent 
 another brief letter to James : — 
 
 "Sir, 
 
 " Since the closing of our last, we have been at Court 
 again (and that we might not hold you in pain we assure you 
 we have not been known) where we saw the young Queen, little 
 Monsieur, and Madame, at the practising of a mask that is 
 intended by the Queen to be presented to the King, and in it 
 there danced the Queen and Madames, with as many as made 
 up nineteen fair dancing ladies, amongst which the Queen is 
 the handsomest, which hath wrought in us a greater desire to 
 see her sister. So, in haste, going to bed, we humbly take our 
 leaves and rest. 
 
 " Your Majesty's most humble and obedient son and servant, 
 
 " Charles 
 " And your humble slave-dog, 
 
 " Steenie 
 " Paris, the 22nd of February, 162^ " 
 
144 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 The assurance in this letter that they "have not been 
 known " was not the real truth, though the truth to them. Two 
 young men of such striking figure and rich apparel could 
 not easily pass unrecognized, and coincidence often frustrates 
 caution. One of the first persons to discover their identity was 
 a maid who had been a milliner in London, and cried out as 
 Charles passed her in the street, " Certainly this is the Prince of 
 Wales ! " But she was discreet enough to say no more about it 
 then, and, writes Lord Herbert of Cherbury, "presumed not 
 to follow him." But others of higher rank than a milliner's 
 maid recognized the Prince and his companion, and it is 
 probable that when these two were watching the mask at Court 
 sharp eyes were upon them, piercing their disguise. 
 
 That fire-eating little Welshman Lord Herbert was then in 
 Paris as our Ambassador, and it was natural that Buckingham, 
 who had a great affection for him, and to whom he owed his 
 office, should have suggested sending for him. This was dis- 
 cussed at the time, but after some dispute it was concluded in 
 the negative ; the reasons being that if the Ambassador came 
 on foot as a private person, he might be seen and followed by 
 some spy curious to know the end of this humble walk, whereas 
 if he came with his usual train, his gentlemen would recognize 
 the Prince and the Marquis, and might divulge the secret. 
 
 The first news that reached the Ambassador's ears was 
 when, late on the same night, a Scotsman named Andrews 
 came to his rooms and asked him if he had seen the Prince. 
 " What Prince ? " said the testy little knight. Upon hearing 
 that it was the Prince of Wales he refused to believe it, until the 
 Scot "with many oaths" affirmed that it was indeed Prince 
 Charles, and that he, Andrews, was charged to follow his 
 highness, begging the Ambassador, on the part of the King his 
 master, to serve the Prince's passage through France as well as 
 he could. Thrown into great excitement by the news, Lord 
 Herbert got up very early next morning, and, making his way 
 to the mansion of the chief Secretary of State, Puisieuxi 
 demanded an immediate audience. The minister sent word 
 that he begged the ambassador to stay for an hour, as he was 
 himself in bed, and had some important business to despatch 
 for the King, his master. Edward Herbert was not a man to 
 be fudged off with excuses, and he sent back word to say that 
 
THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 145 
 
 he could not stay a minute, and that he desired to go to 
 Monsieur Puisieux's bedside. This made the minister get up 
 and put on his gown, and so went to the chamber where the 
 ambassador was waiting. 
 
 " His first words to me," writes Lord Herbert, in his 
 " Memoirs," " were, ' I know your business as well as you ; your 
 Prince is departed this morning post to Spain,' adding further, 
 that I could demand nothing for the security of his passage, but 
 it should be presently granted, concluding with these very words, 
 ' Vous serez servi au point nommi? or ' You shall be served in 
 any particular you name,' I told him that his free offer had 
 prevented the request I intended to make, and that because he 
 was principal minister of State, I doubted not but that he had so 
 nobly promised he would see punctually performed ; as for the 
 security of his passage that I did not see what I could demand 
 more than that he would suffer him quietly to hold his way 
 without sending after or interrupting him. He replied that the 
 Prince should not be interrupted, though yet he could no less 
 than send to know what success the Prince had in his journey." 
 
 This was a very graceful way of saying that the Prince and 
 his companions would be closely shadowed through France 
 as far as the Spanish frontier, and we may imagine that some 
 young gentleman, or gentlemen, of the guard left the Louvre 
 early in the morning, with strict orders to ride hard on the tracks 
 of the Prince's party. What a gay adventure for a D'Artagnan ! 
 
 Lord Herbert also sent a messenger after them at post speed, 
 desiring the Prince to make all the haste he could out of France, 
 and counselling him, as he would be closely watched, not to 
 have conversation with any of "the religion" (that is, the 
 Huguenot party), as he might be detained if he gave any cause 
 of suspicion. 
 
 The innkeepers on the way to Spain must have been 
 astonished and well pleased at the number of mysterious 
 horsemen who were hurrying one after the other, and throwing 
 away gold in their anxiety to press on with their steeds. 
 Another English lord soon came riding hard for Spain, and not 
 alone, as this one had no cause for secrecy, and loved the 
 glitter of a cavalcade. His coming was advised to the Prince 
 and Buckingham by a letter from the King. 
 
 " Sweet boys," wrote James, " the news of your going is 
 
 L 
 
146 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 already so blown abroad, as I am forced for your safety to post 
 this bearer [James Hay, Earl of Carlisle] after you, who will 
 give you his best advice and attendance in your journey. God 
 bless you both, my sweet babes, and send you a safe and happy 
 return." 
 
 Poor James had already been bitterly reproached by his 
 lords when the secret had "blown abroad." At Newmarket, 
 where rumour met them, the Privy Councillors fell on their 
 knees before him and implored him to say whether it was true. 
 Then James confessed, what seemed so wildly incredible. Hiding 
 his own fears with grandiloquent language, he talked loftily 
 about a general peace in Christendom which would result from 
 this mission of love. But to prevent danger he promised to 
 send Lord Carlisle to Paris to arrange a safe conduct for the 
 Prince through France. But he could not stifle the bitter 
 reproaches of his noblemen, and some of them did not hesitate 
 to accuse Buckingham of high treason for his part in this wild 
 adventure. Others and younger ones, however, less serious in 
 their views, hastened to follow such a gay enterprise. 
 
 The Lord Cherbury's house in Paris afterwards became a 
 kind of caravanserai for all those of the English Court who, as 
 soon as the secret was out, desired to join the Prince, and passed 
 through France to Spain, and by one of them the Ambassador, 
 who must have been very sore at not having been admitted to 
 the secret of his Prince's stay in Paris, did not fail to let that 
 young man know how hurt he, Edward Herbert, had been on 
 this account — "which occasioned his Highness afterwards to 
 write a letter to me wholly with his own hand, and subscribe 
 his name 'your friend Charles,' in which he did abundantly 
 satisfy all unkindness I might conceive on this occasion." 
 
 The first of those to pass over to France, and to ride on the 
 track of Charles and Buckingham to Spain, was, as we have 
 seen, the Earl of Carlisle. With him went the Lord Mountjoy 
 and others, "to excuse the Prince's passing through France 
 without leave or kissing the King's hand there." Then from 
 that industrious letter-writer Mr. Mead we learn, under the date 
 of March 14th, that " the Lords Andover, Vaughan, and Ken- 
 sington (Henry Rich) went hence also twelve days ago that 
 way, overland for Spaine. The beginning of the next week 
 there go likewise hence about two hundred persons more of 
 

 IMP - •'mamSmSKESMS 
 
 
 
 fcl^r mm 
 
 
 HBihP*'-' - : ; 
 
 
 
 ■fev 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 JAMES HAY, EARL OF CARLISLE 
 
 AFTER THE PORTRAIT HY VANDVCK 
 
THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 147 
 
 nobles, knightes, gentlemen, and others (of which Dr. Man and 
 Mr. Wren) towards Portsmouth, there to imbarque in two shippes, 
 one of the King's, another a marchant's ship, for St. Sebastian's, 
 afterwards to ryde overland to Madride. It's sayd also my LL. 
 the Bishops of St. Asaph and Exeter also goe, either now 
 or in May, with the Fleet, and have a thousand apiece given 
 them," etc. 
 
 Meanwhile, or rather before these later arrivals and happen- 
 ings, the King's "sweet boys, and dear venturous knights, 
 worthy to be put in a romanso " (as he calls them in one of his 
 letters), rode with their companions across France, a gallant 
 party of gentlemen wearing " fine riding coats, all of one colour 
 and fashion,- in a kind of noble simplicity." 
 
 There was some trouble in avoiding the hospitality of great 
 French nobles on their country estates — men who loved good 
 company, and with the generous magnificence of the ancien rigime 
 at its best, delighted to entertain noble strangers passing through 
 their lands. One of them, the Duke D'Epernon, pressed them 
 to favour him with their company, and would hardly take a 
 refusal, until Francis Cottington assured him they were persons 
 of such low degree as to be unfit for such noble company. The 
 Duke must have seen the irony of this, but he was too much of 
 a gentleman to intrude his hospitality further upon unwilling 
 guests. 
 
 There were some merry adventures on that long road to 
 Spain. French provincial inns in the reign of the Thirteenth 
 Louis were not luxurious, and Charles and Steenie slept in 
 many poor places and ate frugal fare. They saw the poverty 
 of provincial France, and the desolation that followed a religious 
 war, with ruined homesteads, and wretched cripples who had 
 once been soldiers, and poor women who had suffered from the 
 horrors of such a war. They passed young gentlemen, like 
 the Gascon D'Artagnan, riding on rough cobs towards Paris 
 and their fortune ; and rascals like Gil Bias singing on the way 
 between one town and another, where they would be barber, or 
 valet, or secretary to a Bishop, or the lover of a waiting-maid ; 
 and beggarly poets of the type of Francois Villon, who would 
 write a scurrilous ballad to earn a meal, or a haunting sonnet for 
 an insubstantial smile. But whatever the company, or the fare, 
 or the shelter, the hearts of Prince Charles and his friends 
 
148 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 were high, for all this was a great adventure, good for the 
 blood. Their temper may be guessed from a merry anecdote of 
 a little incident near Bayonne, told by Sir Henry Wotton : — 
 
 " They were now entered into the town of Trent, and could 
 get no flesh in their inns ; whereupon fell out a pleasant pas- 
 sage (if I may insert it by the way among more serious) ; — ■ 
 There was near Bayon a heard of goats with their young ones ; 
 on which sight Sir Richard Graham (master of the horse to the 
 marquis) tells. the marquis he could snap one of the kids, and 
 make some shift to carry him close to their lodgings, which the 
 prince overhearing, ' Why, Richard,' says he, ' do you think you 
 may practise here your old tricks again upon the Border ? ' upon 
 which word they first gave the Goat-herd good contentment, 
 and then while the marquis and his servants, being both on foot, 
 were chasing the kid about the flock, the Prince from horseback 
 killed him in the head with a Scottish pistol." 
 
 Arriving at Bayonne, they had their first serious interruption 
 from the authorities. The Governor, M. de Gramont, made 
 pertinacious inquiries as to their whence and whither, and not 
 having, as he afterwards confessed to his friend, Herbert of 
 Cherbury, the slightest idea as to the persons before him, gave 
 them a great deal of trouble and anxiety before he would let 
 them proceed. 
 
 A little way out of Bayonne the party met a messenger 
 from the Earl of Bristol, one Gresly by name, carrying despatches 
 to England. These were opened, but found to be mainly in 
 cipher. One, however, which they could read was not encourag- 
 ing, for Bristol wrote that " God knows when " the dispensation 
 for the marriage would arrive from the Pope. Gresly after- 
 wards reported in England that Buckingham looked very weary 
 and harassed after his long ride, though he had never seen the 
 Prince so merry. He danced for joy when he crossed the 
 boundary into Spain. 
 
 Buckingham, as he came within sight of Spain, may well 
 have been a little harassed, thinking no more for the time of the 
 adventurous pleasure of this expedition, and remembering the 
 responsibilities on his shoulders. The Heir of the English 
 Crown was in his charge — this journey was his idea, and upon 
 the success or failure of it his own reputation at home would be 
 made or marred. He had plunged into the adventure with a 
 
THE JOURNEY TO SPAIN 149 
 
 gay heart, but at the end of this knight-errantry was a grave 
 and serious business of diplomacy, which would need skilful 
 handling. But not yet did either Buckingham or the Prince 
 know the troubles and vexations in store for them ; and know- 
 ing the character of George Villiers, we may guess that if he 
 harboured any pessimistic thoughts for a while, he quickly 
 tossed them on one side, and rode forward with gay hope into 
 the sunshine of Spain. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 IN OLD MADRID 
 
 IT was on the evening of Friday, March 7th, 1623, that two 
 of the travellers arrived in old Madrid. Buckingham and 
 the young Prince, leaving their companions half a day's journey 
 behind, went straight to Digby's house, and while Charles " staid 
 awhile on t'other side of the street, in the dark, Buckingham, 
 with a portmanteau under his arm, knocked at the ambassador's 
 door, and announced himself as Mr. Thomas Smith, a messenger 
 with important news.* The servant said his lord had retired 
 into his study, and was then busy with his papers, so that he 
 would not be disturbed ; but upon Buckingham's importunity 
 the porter admitted him, and he was taken through the Countess's 
 chamber to the Earl of Bristol's room.t 
 
 Digby, writing to the King, his master, three days later, 
 thus describes this surprise visit : — 
 
 " Upon Friday, which was the 7th of this month," he says, 
 " about eight o'clock at night, the Prince and my Lord of Buck- 
 ingham, without any company but their postilion, arrived at my 
 house ; where my Lord Marquis meeting at the door with Henry 
 Jermyn, a son of Sir Thomas Jermyn's, told him that his name 
 was Smith, and that he had met my servant Gresly by the way, 
 who had fallen into thieves' hands, by whom he had been very 
 ill-used, and had all his letters taken away ; he said he had got 
 a fall, and hurt one of his legs, so that he could not come upstairs 
 but with great pain. Whilst Henry Jermyn was making this 
 relation unto me, Sire, Digby went to see who it was, and knew 
 my Lord of Buckingham ; but dissembled it so well, that before 
 I could come to him, he had got him up to his chamber, and 
 
 * Howell. t Letter of Mr. Mead to Sir Martin Stuteville. 
 
 150 
 
IN OLD MADRID 151 
 
 went presently down to the Prince (who stood all this while in 
 the street with his postilion) and brought him likewise so hand- 
 somely up to his chamber, that there I found them both together, 
 and we carried the business so dexterously that that night they 
 were undiscovered by any, till the next morning, by the coming 
 of Mr. Secretary Cottington and Endymion Porter, the secret 
 was revealed." 
 
 To the Earl of Bristol the visit of the Prince and his 
 Favourite, dropping down upon him like this out of the night, 
 was an unpleasant surprise and shock. A man of sincere 
 patriotism, and England's most skilful diplomatist, he knew 
 all the difficulties and dangers of the proposed match, and for 
 a long time now he had been handling the business of his 
 master at the Court of Spain with cautious zeal, and with a 
 finesse which was not outmatched by the subtlety of Olivares, 
 the all-powerful minister of Philip IV. But this appearance of 
 the Prince upset all his diplomacy, for with Charles coming like 
 a knight-errant to claim his bride in person, it would be more 
 than ever difficult to negotiate with Spain for a marriage 
 contract which would be acceptable to the English nation. 
 His personal prestige was also touched. He knew Buckingham, 
 his impetuosity, his arrogance, his desire for self-glory, and it 
 was gall to him that this Favourite, who had no knowledge of 
 diplomacy and no grain of caution, should arrive like this to 
 take the whole business out of the Ambassador's hands, and 
 ride roughshod over his influence in Spain. But Bristol, like 
 a wise man, did not at this stage show any of the anxiety and 
 annoyance that consumed him. He behaved to his Prince 
 and his Prince's friend with the exquisite courtesy of a Stuart 
 gentleman, and played the new game with a noble grace. He 
 sent word immediately to Count Gondomar that the Marquis of 
 Buckingham was in Madrid, and a little later gave the news to 
 the King, also adding that doubtless the Prince had come with 
 him. The wily Gondomar must have smiled in his sleeve, or 
 openly, upon receiving this message. The plot had been born 
 in his own brain, he had whispered the suggestion of this 
 journey into Buckingham's ear, and now he knew that he had 
 gained his first trick in this game of policy. Buckingham was 
 at once summoned to wait on Philip, and the mystery still being 
 kept up, the Marquis was introduced through a secret passage 
 
152 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 into His Majesty's private apartment. Bristol went with Buck- 
 ingham, and " never," he says, " saw the Spanish gravity 
 laid aside before, nor any man more overtaken with joy than 
 the King was, for he secretly understood of the Prince's being 
 here." 
 
 We must smile at all this pretence of keeping a secret which 
 was no secret. It is more than probable that the news of the 
 Prince's journey through France had reached the Spanish Court 
 before the arrival of the travellers themselves. There were 
 couriers who would ride till their horses fell dead to carry such 
 news. But the handsome Buckingham, bowing low before that 
 young blue-eyed man with the heavy jowl — Velasquez has made 
 his face immortal — allowed himself no more than veiled hints 
 of the great company that had come with him. So early the 
 next morning, before the tired travellers were out of bed, it was 
 to the Marquis, and not to the Prince (whose presence was still 
 officially " unknown"), that the Spanish King sent his favourite 
 and Prime Minister, to do him honour. But now the mask was 
 thrown aside. The Prince rose and dressed, as well as 
 Buckingham. But before they were ready to admit Olivares 
 — for the first time, no doubt, they arrayed themselves in that 
 magnificence which dazzled the eyes of the Spanish Court — 
 Philip himself came to the English Ambassador's house.* 
 
 The warmest courtesies passed between the company. 
 Olivares threw himself before the Prince, " kneel'd and kissed 
 his hands and hugg'd his thighs," t and Philip, embracing 
 Charles, was prodigal with those compliments and gracious 
 words which flow so readily from a Spanish tongue, and 
 sometimes mean so little. 
 
 Though it were Lent, he said, it should not be Lent to him, 
 and his guests should have all that they wished, which his 
 country could provide. Then, after many such words of 
 devoted service, and still further to show his affection, Philip 
 asked the Prince " wherein he should chiefly pleasure him the 
 first day." 
 
 This was the Prince's opportunity to play his part of knight- 
 errant, in which he had been well coached by Geordie Villiers, 
 who had more imagination than Charles Stuart. 
 
 * Mr. Mead to Sir Martin S lute villa 
 t Howell. 
 
IN OLD MADRID 153 
 
 "Your Majesty will give me most joy," he said, "by letting 
 me see my mistress, for whose sake I have undertaken so long, 
 wearisome, and dangerous a journey." 
 
 It was well said, though the romance of these words does 
 not ring true. We can hardly believe in the sincerity of the 
 Royal lover at this stage of his adventures, though later he 
 seems to have become truly enamoured, and we know that the 
 lady whom he had come to woo was very frightened. She, poor 
 girl, was but a pawn to be played by politicians. A pious and 
 sweet-natured "child of Mary," to whom she loved to pray in 
 private devotions, she would have been happiest in a convent, 
 among singing nuns, glad at having quitted a rude and cruel 
 world for a sanctuary of peace. Brought up in the Catholic 
 faith, so passionately orthodox in Spain, she feared a heretic 
 as a child fears a dream-bogey, and in the months of secret 
 negotiation which had preceded this marriage she had wept 
 many tears, beseeching her brother Philip that he would break 
 off this bargaining, and, if she must marry, at least give her a 
 husband of her own faith. Philip, a huntsman by nature, 
 a King by accident of birth, but always a good-hearted fellow, 
 was full of tenderness for his sister, the Princess Mary, and 
 would have gladly yielded to her entreaties. But he had a 
 master in Olivares, to whom he left most of his duties of king- 
 craft, so long as he himself might ride with his boarhounds, and 
 not be bothered. Olivares, thought Philip, knew best, and he 
 was not disposed to drop the negotiations with England, though 
 he would drive a hard bargain with the Protestants, and use this 
 marriage as a means to free the English Catholics from their 
 fetters, to light the altars of the Faith again in England, to win 
 that nation back to its old grace. Though it might be a sacrifice 
 for the Princess, it would be in the cause of the Church, and it 
 was a glorious opportunity of service to God. This, briefly, was 
 the Spanish position in the affair at the beginning, and from 
 their point of view a perfectly reasonable and righteous position 
 though insufferable to the English nation as a whole. At the 
 first coming of the Prince, it was believed, with a curious 
 infatuation, that he was prepared to change his faith, and it 
 was only after the King and his ministers found out their 
 mistake on this point that the cordiality of their reception 
 cooled down. So the poor child Princess — she was only sixteen 
 
154 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 — yielded outwardly to the arguments and entreaties of her 
 brother the King and his counsellors, though she shrank with 
 horror from her fate. 
 
 Philip then would not deny the Prince his pleasure, and 
 arranged that on the Sunday the Princess should drive with her 
 family on the Prado, "which," says the Earl of Bristol, in a 
 letter to King James, " is a hole without the town where men do 
 take air." So that the Prince of Wales should not be doubtful 
 as to the lady he had come so far to see, she would wear a blue 
 ribbon around her arm to distinguish her. This little drama 
 was duly enacted with much splendour, and a comical pretence 
 of mystery. In the great Royal coach of Spain, about as big 
 as a modern pantechnicon, were the King, Queen, Philip's two 
 brothers (the Infanta Don Carlos, and Cardinal Don Fernando), 
 and the Infanta, and behind them twenty more coaches crowded 
 with grandees and ladies, among whom were, of course, the 
 Prime Minister Olivares and his lady. 
 
 On the other side came Prince Charles "disguised" — by 
 which we may guess that he wore a mask — attended in the same 
 coach by Buckingham, the Earl of Bristol, the Count de 
 Gondomar, and Sir Walter Ashton. 
 
 In a letter from Mr. Mead to Sir Martin Stuteville it is said 
 that the carriage in which the Infanta sat drew up alongside 
 that of the Prince of Wales, and Philip begged his sister to 
 unmask — that is to say, to draw back the lace mantilla behind 
 which all Spanish ladies veiled their beauty, or their ugliness, 
 when in public places — so that he, the King, might talk to her 
 pleasurably. The Princess did this, and Charles saw her face 
 for the first time, as she drooped her eyes before his gaze, 
 knowing that she was being exhibited for the marriage market. 
 It was to all accounts a lovely face. Howell describes her as 
 " a very comely lady, rather of a Flemish complexion than 
 Spanish, fair-haired, and carrieth a most pure mixture of red 
 and white in her face." Howell says also that " as soon as the 
 Infanta saw the Prince her colour rose very high, which we hold 
 to be an impression of love and affection, for the face is often 
 times the true index of the heart." We may agree with Howell 
 as to this index of the heart, but that crimson blush was more 
 probably a sign of shame and distress at this public exhibition 
 and this distressful meeting. 
 
THE INFANTA MARIA 
 
 FROM THE PAINTING BY VELAZQUEZ IN THE PRADO, MADRID 
 
IN OLD MADRID 155 
 
 In a contemporary tract * there is a somewhat different 
 description of this event. " Both the King and the Prince made 
 diverse turns and returns in their several coaches, and in several 
 parts of the town and Prado (which is a place of recreation 
 where the nobility is often wont to take the air), and every one 
 of them saw each other in a clear light, not being able to sustain 
 from saluting each other with the hat as they passed by, though 
 they had agreed to take no notice of one another ; and this was 
 all they did for that time. The King and all that royal com- 
 pany returned by night by a world of torch light, which made 
 a most glorious show." t 
 
 According to Mr. Mead, a rumour had now spread through 
 all Madrid that the Prince of Wales had come, and the people 
 thronged so closely round the Royal coaches eager to see this 
 knight-errant and his famous companion, Buckingham, that they 
 could hardly pass along, while the Prince, graciously wishing to 
 satisfy their curiosity, stood up all the way to show himself to 
 the people. After this the English visitors went privately to 
 the Court two or three times, but still there was no introduction 
 between the Prince and the Infanta. 
 
 In the King's Council consultations were being held with 
 Massimi, the Papal Nuncio, as to the conditions by which the 
 Papal Dispensation would be granted for the marriage of the 
 Catholic Princess to the heretic Prince, who they hoped would 
 one day change his Protestant religion for the true Faith, and 
 Olivares and his ministers were putting their heads together 
 as to the articles of the marriage treaty. Doubts were also 
 beginning to creep into the brain of Olivares as to the likelihood 
 of the Prince's conversion. He had already sounded Bucking- 
 ham on the point, and had not got any satisfaction. " Let us 
 despatch this matter out of hand," he said, " and strike it up 
 without the Pope." " Very well," said Buckingham, cheerfully ; 
 " but how is it to be done ? " " The means," replied Olivares, 
 " are very easy. It is but the conversion of the Prince, which 
 we cannot conceive but his Highness intended upon his resolu- 
 tion for this journey." Buckingham protested bluntly against 
 
 * Attributed to the Earl of Bristol. 
 
 t "A true relation and journal of the manner of the arrival and magnificent 
 entertainment given to the high and mighty Prince Charles, Prince of Great Britain, 
 by the King of Spain, in his Court at Madrid." London, 1623. 
 
156 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 any such idea. "Then," said Olivares, "we must send to 
 Rome." 
 
 Until those things were settled it was not their intention to 
 admit any close intimacy between the lovers, though Philip, 
 more impetuous than his counsellors, had vowed that the Prince 
 after his gallant journey deserved to have the Infanta put into 
 his arms at once. But though the Infanta was to be jealously 
 guarded until the " business " was settled, in everything else the 
 Prince was to be honoured and flattered. King Philip insisted 
 on Charles taking precedence of himself. A suite of rooms was 
 put at his service, with a hundred men to wait on him, and 
 Philip gave him a golden key which would admit him at any 
 time to the Royal bed-chamber. Then a day was appointed for 
 a state entry into Madrid, the Prince and Buckingham, and 
 their suite, being lodged one night at St. Jerome's monastery, 
 whence, on the coronation days, the Spanish kings were by long 
 tradition accustomed to make their entry into the capital. This 
 monastery was half a mile out of the city, or, as Francis 
 Cottington said, with slight inaccuracy, in a letter to his wife, 
 "as farre distant as from Whitechappele to Westminster." 
 The Prince of Wales was attended by the King himsetf, by 
 Olivares, the Prime Minister, Gondomar, all the Ministers of 
 State, and a swarm of Spanish grandees. The ceremony was 
 one of the most magnificent ever seen in Old Madrid. When 
 by Royal command all the houses were draped in tapestry, and 
 the roads cleared of coaches, the Prince, at the right hand of the 
 King, rode under a canopy, a gallant and noble figure as he 
 sat his horse. Buckingham, with the Count of Olivares, followed 
 next, and then Digby, Earl of Bristol, and one of the grandees. 
 They were preceded by all the councillors, who kissed the 
 Prince's hand, saying they were commanded to do no favour 
 nor bestow any office without his direction during his stay in 
 Spain. Then came the grandees and don senors of Spain, in a 
 glittering and golden pageant. The sumptuary laws had been 
 repealed, and " the great ones and courtiers being most richly 
 attired and their horses most sumptuously caparisoned." So 
 they rode through the picturesque town, received with the 
 acclamations of the Spanish people in their holiday dress, a 
 wonderful picture of gorgeous colour under the blue sky. 
 
 Upon arriving at the Palace the Prince and Buckingham 
 
IN OLD MADRID 157 
 
 were taken to the Queen, who was very gracious, and then 
 conducted to their apartments. Here Charles was presented 
 with many rich gifts. The King gave him a great golden ewer 
 set with precious stones, and the Queen sent him a rich night- 
 gown, with a cabinet of jewels, gloves, and sweet perfumes. 
 The Princess Mary also gave a present, though her heart did 
 not go with it, to her knight-errant. This was a costly suite of 
 hangings.* 
 
 So determined was the Spanish Court to live up to its 
 traditions of chivalry towards Royal guests, that the Council sat 
 up fifteen hours, from noon till three the next morning, devising 
 new means of honouring the Prince, and by their advice the 
 King made an act of Royal clemency, throwing open the 
 prisons, paying their fines, and giving life to twenty who were 
 condemned to death. For servers, and cup-bearers and carvers 
 the Prince had none but marquises and earls. And the people 
 of Madrid were not behindhand in demonstrating their interest 
 in the visit ; bonfires and fireworks were kept blazing for eight 
 days or more. " I never saw people so joyed in all my days," 
 says Cottington. Guitars twanged in the streets of Old Madrid, 
 and there was much singing under casement windows. Poets, 
 inspired by the romance of the adventure (knowing nothing of 
 all the squalid bargaining and intriguing that was going on 
 behind the scenes), composed sonnets and ballads, which were 
 recited and sung by a people that loved such minstrelsy. Lopez 
 de Vega, the greatest of these poets, was not silent, and every- 
 where, in taverns and on balconies, were heard his words — 
 
 " Carlos Estuardo soy 
 
 Que, scindo Amor mi quia 
 El cielo d'Esparla voy 
 Per ver mi estrella Maria." f 
 
 In their private apartments Charles and Buckingham sat 
 down late at night, or in the intervals of feasting and pageantry, 
 to write joint letters to their old Dad and Gossip at home, who 
 
 * Letter from Francis Cottington to his lady, 
 t Which has been roughly translated — 
 
 " Charles Stuart I am, 
 
 Love has guided me far 
 To the heaven of Spain, 
 To Maria my star." 
 
158 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 was eating his heart out for news of them. James himself 
 wrote often to them both, letters in which his genuine affection 
 for them is revealed by an anxiety that they should make a 
 brave show at the Spanish Court, and by many tender and 
 homely messages. One of these letters is worth quoting fully, 
 as it is so rich in characteristic touches. It may be left in its 
 original spelling, which reveals the broad Scots speech of the 
 Royal pedant : — 
 
 "My sweete boyes, I hoape before this tyme ye are fullie 
 satisfyed with my diligent caire in wrytting unto you upon all 
 occasions ; but I have better cause to querrell you, that ye 
 should ever have bene in doubte of my often writting unto you, 
 especiallie as long as ye saw no poste nor creature was comd 
 from me but Michell Androw ; & yett by Carlele, in quhose 
 cumpanie he pairted from me, I wrotte my first Lettre unto you. 
 And I wonder also quhy ye showlde aske me the qucestion if 
 ye showlde sende me any more jointe letres or not ; alace [alas] 
 sweete hairtis, it is all my conforte in youre absence, that ye 
 wrytte jointlie unto me, besydes the great ease it is, both to me 
 and you ; and ye neede not doubte but I will be wairie enough 
 in not acquainting my Counsell with any secreate in your Letres. 
 But I hawe bene trowbled with Hamilton,* quho being present 
 by chawnce at my ressaving both of youre first and seconde 
 paquette out of Madrid, wold needs peere over my showlder 
 quhen I was reading thaime, ofring ever to helpe me to reade 
 any harde wordis, and, in good faith, he is in this bussienesse, 
 as in all things else, as variable and uncertaine as the Moone. 
 But the newis of youre gloriouse reception thaire, makes me 
 afrayed that ye will both miskenne your olde Dade hearafter ; 
 but in earniste my babie ye must be as spairing as ye can in 
 youre spending thaire, for youre officers are allreaddie putte 
 to the height of thaire speede with provyding the fyve thowsande 
 powndis by exchainge, and now youre tilting stuffe quhiche 
 thaye knowe not how to provyde will come to three more : f 
 and God knowis how my coffers are allreaddie drained. . . . 
 But I praye you, my babie, take heade of being hurte if ye 
 runne at tilte. As for Steenie, I hoape thow wilt come bakke 
 
 * The Marquis of Hamilton. 
 
 t Buckingham afterwards cancelled the order for the tilting equipment. 
 
IN OLD MADRID 159 
 
 before that tyme, for I hoape my babie will be readdie to come 
 awaye before the horses can be thaire wel restid, and all things 
 readdie for running at tilte, quhiche muste be my babies pairting 
 blow if he can have laaser [leisure] to parforme it thaire. I 
 praye you in the meanetyme keepe your selfis in use of dawnc- 
 ing privatlie thogh ye showlde quhissel [whistle] and sing one to 
 another like Jakke and Tom for faulte of bettir musike. As for 
 the maine bussienesse, I hoape the Dispensation will come 
 speedilie and well, if other wayes ye must putte that King 
 bravelie to it, as I wrotte in my last unto you, for the Arch- 
 duchessis ambassadoure heere sayes that my sonnis going thaire 
 in this fashion hath obleished that King in honoure to bestowe 
 his sister upon him, quhether the Dispensation come or not ; 
 & that thaire are nombers of Catholike Romanes and protestants 
 maried in the worlde withowt the Popes dispensation. This the 
 Baron de Boischot * saide to my selfe. I sende you according 
 to youre desyre a lettre of thankes to that King, quhiche, my 
 sweete Steenie thou shall deliver unto him in my name with all 
 the best complements thou can, and quhane thou wants, Carlele 
 can best instruct thee in that airte. And I have sent a Letre 
 for the Conde d'Olivares in the last paquette. And thus God 
 keepe you my sweete Boyes with my fatherlie blessing ; and 
 send you a happie successfull journey, & a joyefull & happie 
 returne in the armes of youre deare Dade. From Theobaldis 
 the firist of Apryle. 
 
 "James R" 
 
 There are some droll passages in that letter which stick 
 in one's imagination, specially the picture of the Marquis of 
 Hamilton poking his nose over the King's shoulder to read His 
 Majesty's most private letters, and the quaint advice of James 
 to his two boys anent the practice of dancing. It would be 
 difficult, however, to imagine the stately Charles and the magnifi- 
 cent Buckingham whistling jigs and kicking up their heels in 
 private, like " Jack and Tom." 
 
 James was unstinting in his prodigal generosity to the two 
 young gentlemen abroad, so that they might outshine all the 
 splendour of the Spanish Court. In a letter to Charles, dated 
 17th March, 1623, he writes — 
 
 " I send you the robes of the Order [of the Garter] which 
 * An ambassador from Spain, whose coach the travellers had seen near Rochester. 
 
160 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 you must not forget to wear upon St. George's Day, and dine 
 together in them, which I hope in heaven you may ; for it will 
 be a goodly sight for the Spaniards to see my two boys dine in 
 them. I send you also the jewels I promised, with some of 
 mine, and such of yours, I mean both of you, as are worth the 
 sending, for my Baby's presenting to his mistress." 
 
 But in spite of this generosity, it was not enough to satisfy 
 the illimitable desires of Buckingham's magnificence. This was 
 the greatest opportunity George Villiers had yet had in his life 
 for the display of his handsome person, and for dazzling the 
 eyes of the world by the glittering splendour of his dress. He 
 was determined to make the most of it, and to outshine every 
 sumptuous grandee about him. His dresses blazed with diamonds, 
 and he had purposely had them sewn on so loosely that some 
 of them would fall on to the polished floors of the palace when 
 he moved about. When any courtier bent to pick one up, he 
 smilingly refused to take the glistening toy. No wonder, with 
 such pranks of pride, that Buckingham needed more and more 
 jewels to be sent from England. With a boldness which is 
 amazing to modern readers, he wrote to the King, demanding 
 fresh supplies, as though he had a right to every jewel in the 
 Court. He also egged on Charles to make similar requests, and 
 from the two following letters we may see how these two young 
 cockerels would bleed the parent bird. 
 
 The first is in Prince Charles's handwriting, with a post- 
 script from Buckingham. 
 
 "Sir, 
 
 " I confess that ye have sent mor jewels then (at my 
 departure) I thought to had use of; but, since my cumming, 
 seeing manie jewels worne heere, & that my braverie can 
 consist of nothing else, besides that sume of them which ye 
 have appointed me to give to the Infanta, in Steenie's opinion 
 and myne, ar' nott fitt to be given to her ; therfor I have taken 
 this bouldness to entreate your Majesty to send more for my 
 owen wearing & for giving to my Mistres : in which I thinke 
 Your Majesty shall not doe amiss to take Carlile's advyce. 
 So humblie craving your blessing I rest. 
 
 " Your Majesty's humble & obedient servant, 
 
 " Charles " 
 
IN OLD MADRID 161 
 
 Then comes Buckingham's impudence : — 
 
 " I your Doge sayes your sone, have manie jewelsi 
 neyther fitt for your own, your sones, nor your daughters wering> 
 but verie fitt to bestow of those here who must necessarillie have 
 presents ; & this way will be least chargable to your Majesty 
 in my poure opinion. 
 
 "Madrill the 22 of Aprill, 1623" 
 
 Buckingham followed up this appeal for more gew-gaws by 
 a letter addressed to his "dere Dad, Gossope, and Steward," 
 in which he gave his "poor and candid opinion what will be 
 fittest more to send." He reproaches James for having been so 
 sparing in his despatch of trinkets, and protests that he, George 
 Villiers, has been compelled to lend some of his own jewels to 
 the Prince that he may make a brave show, though still not 
 brave enough. 
 
 " Sir, he hath neyther chaine nor hat band ; and I beseech 
 you consider first how rich they are in Jewells here, then in what 
 a poure equipage he came in, how he hath no other meanes to 
 appere like a Kings sonne, how they are usefullests at such a 
 time as this when they may doe your selfe, your sone, & the 
 nation honor, and lastlie how it will neither caust nor hasard 
 you anie thinge. These resons, I hope, since you have ventured 
 allredie your cheefest Jewell your Sonne, will serve to perswade 
 you to lett louse thesse more after him : first your best hattband ; 
 the Portingall diamond ; the rest of the pendant diamonds, to 
 make up a Necles to give his Mistris ; & the best rope of 
 perle ; with a rich chaine or bow for himself to waire, or els your 
 Doge must want a coller ; which is the redie way to put him 
 into it. There are manie other Jewells which are of so mean 
 qualitie as they deserve not that name, but will save much in 
 your purs & serve verie well for Presents. They had never so 
 good and greate an occasion to take the aire out of there boxes 
 as at this time. God knowes when they shall have such 
 another ; & they had neede some times to get nerer the Sonne 
 to continue them in there perfection. Here give me leave 
 humbly on my knees to give your Majesty thankes for that rich 
 jewell you sent me in a box by my lord Vahan, and give him 
 
 M 
 
162 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 leave to kiss your hands from me who tooke the paines to draw 
 it My reward to him is this, he spent his time well, which is 
 the thinge we should all most desier, and is the glorie I covett 
 most here in your service, which sweet Jesus grant me, & your 
 blessing. 
 
 " Your Majesty's most humble slave and doge. 
 
 " Steenie 
 
 "Madriia the 25 of Aprill 1623" 
 
 That the old dad and gossip might be kept in good temper and 
 would part more easily with his jewels, Buckingham sent him a 
 present, which he " impudently begged," of four Spanish asses, 
 which were being shipped over to England with a Barbary horse 
 from Walter Ashton, and some camels from the Earl of Bristol. 
 This would please the King mightily, for he loved to stock his 
 parks with rare animals. Buckingham also promised to lie in 
 wait for all the rare " colour birds " that could be heard of. 
 " But," he adds, with a saucy threat, " if you do not send your 
 baby jewels enough, I'll stop all other presents. Therefore look 
 to it." 
 
 King James was not offended by this greediness, and made 
 haste to satisfy the vanity of his son and favourite. In a letter 
 to them both he writes : — 
 
 " For my Baby's presenting his mistress, I send him an old 
 double cross of Lorrain, not so rich as ancient, and yet not 
 contemptible for the value ; — a good looking-glass with my 
 picture in it, to be hung at her girdle, which ye must tell her 
 ye have caused so to be enchanted by art magic, as whenever 
 she shall be pleased to look in it, she shall see the fairest lady 
 that her brother or your father's dominions can afford ; ye shall 
 present her with two pair of long diamonds set like an anchor, 
 and a fair pendant diamond hanging at them ; ye shall give her 
 a goodly rope of pearls ; ye shall give her a carcanet on collar ; 
 thirteen great ball rubies, and thirteen knots or conques of 
 pearls ; and ye shall give her three- goodly peak pendants 
 diamonds, whereof the biggest to be worn at a needle on the 
 midst of her forehead, and one in every ear. As for thee, my 
 sweet gossip, I send thee a fair table diamond, which I would 
 once have given thee before, if thou would have taken it for 
 
IN OLD MADRID 163 
 
 wearing in thy hat, or where thou pleasest ; and if my Baby 
 will spare thee the two long diamonds in form of an anchor, 
 with the pendant diamond, it were fit for an admiral to wear, 
 and he hath enough better jewels for his mistress though he has 
 of thine own, thy good old jewel, thy twin Pindars diamonds, 
 thy picture case I gave Kate, and the great diamond chain I 
 gave her, who would have sent thee the last pin she had, if I had 
 not staid her." 
 
 Mr. Mead, to his good friend Stuteville, estimated the value 
 of all these jewels sent from England into Spain at .£600,000. 
 A great number of them passed as presents into the hands of 
 Spanish lords and ladies, and temporarily into the care of the 
 Spanish treasury. " The Prince," says Arthur Wilson, " pre- 
 sented his mistress with a necklace which all Spain could not 
 parallel — pearls that had not been long plucked from their 
 watery bed, and had left them but few fellows." The Lady 
 Mary, however, declined to accept these gifts until all things 
 were settled for her marriage, and they were guarded by the 
 Ministers of State, who, to their great honour, returned them 
 afterwards to the Prince, when the match was broken off. 
 
 But all this profusion of jewels and this outward gaiety were 
 but mockery. Before many days had passed in Madrid it was 
 borne home to Buckingham and the Prince that they had made 
 a fatal error in coming to Spain. 
 
 In their letters to the King, generally written by Buckingham 
 and signed jointly, they kept from him the dangers and diffi- 
 culties of their false position, and buoyed him up, and them- 
 selves also, with vain hopes. Olivares had followed up his 
 conversation with Buckingham as to his and the Prince's con- 
 version by getting the Duke to attend a formal discourse as to 
 the truth of the Catholic Church. This took place on April 
 4th, at the monastery of San Geronimo, where a Carmelite 
 Friar, named Francisco de Jesus, argued solemnly for four hours 
 on the Catholic dogma. Buckingham, sitting there twisting his 
 jewelled hat, and with a polite smile on his handsome face, 
 listened with admirable patience, but, to the surprise no doubt 
 of the friar, remained quite unmoved by all this eloquence. 
 
 On the evening of St. George's Day, when James in England 
 imagined his two boys being " a goodly sight," Charles himself 
 
164 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 was invited to a religious conference, and this time four learned 
 and eloquent friars were in attendance. The Prince was stiff 
 and silent, but when Antonio de Sotomayor advanced proofs as 
 to the Pope's claim to be Vicar of Christ, he challenged the 
 interpretation given to certain passages of the Scriptures. He 
 asked that they should be repeated in French, and then turned 
 and said a few words in English to Buckingham. 
 
 By this time the Favourite's stock of patience was exhausted, 
 and, losing all control of his temper, Steenie jumped from his 
 chair, and showing his contempt for the friars by unseemly 
 gestures, threw his hat on the ground and stamped on it. For 
 a lord marquis it was a little lacking in dignity ! 
 
 This brought the conference to an abrupt end, and rudely 
 awakened Philip IV. and his ministers from their dream as to 
 the conversion of the Prince. 
 
 The people of Madrid, too, had lost their first enthusiasm, 
 and some of them began to murmur against the "heretics.'' 
 " The Duke of Buckingham," writes Howell, " hath been indis- 
 posed a good while and lies sick at Court, where the Prince 
 hath no public exercise of devotion, but only bedchamber 
 prayers ; and some think that his lodging in the King's House 
 is likely to prove a disadvantage to the main business : for 
 whereas some sorts of a people here hardly hold us to be Chris- 
 tians, if the Prince had a Palace of his own, and been permitted 
 to have used a room for an open chapel to exercise the liturgy 
 of the Church of England, it would have brought them to a 
 better opinion of us ; and to this end there were some of our 
 best church plate and vestments brought hither, but never 
 used." 
 
 That the Prince and Buckingham did not make an open 
 profession of their Protestantism was contrary to the King's 
 wishes and advice, for soon after their arrival he sent them a 
 letter on this subject. 
 
 " My Sweete Boyes " (he wrote), 
 
 "The Spanishe ambassadowre let a word fall to 
 Grislie, as if thaire wolde be some quaestion made that my 
 babie's chaplains showlde not doe their service in ye King's 
 palace thaire; but he concludit, y' that busienesse wolde be 
 soone accommodated, allwayes in cace such difficultie showlde 
 
IN OLD MADRID 165 
 
 be stukken at, ye may remember thaime, y* it is an ill prepara- 
 tion for giving ye Infante free exercice of her religion heere, to 
 refuse it to my soane thaire ; since thaire religion is as odious 
 to a nomber heere as ours is thaire. And if thaye will not 
 yeelde, then my sweete babie, showe youre self not to be 
 ashamed of youre profession ; but goe sometymes to my 
 Ambassadour's house and have your service thaire, y* God & 
 man may see ye are not ashamed of youre religion." 
 
 From that time both Philip and Olivares would have been 
 glad to break off the proposed match ; but with the Prince in 
 Madrid it was impossible to do so openly, without the risk of 
 incurring war with England, which, with the Armada in their 
 memory, was a horrid thought. 
 
 Olivares relied on diplomacy, of which he believed himself a 
 master. The Marquiss of Iniosa was sent to England, as an 
 ambassador extraordinary, to thank James for sending his son 
 to Madrid, but with secret instructions to get James to make 
 further concessions to English Catholics ; and a messenger was 
 despatched to Rome to explain the situation in Madrid to the 
 Pope, and to delay the dispensation. 
 
 But the Pope had also been indulging in the dream of 
 recovering England for the Church through the conversion of 
 its Prince. To Buckingham he had written an earnest and per- 
 suasive letter, exhorting him not only to become a Roman 
 Catholic himself, but to use his great influence to convert the 
 Court and Kingdom of England. To Charles he had written a 
 similar letter, and spoke of the marriage "having elevated him 
 to the hope of an extraordinary advantage." Then, to the 
 annoyance of Olivares, he sent his Papal Dispensation to the 
 Court of Madrid, and it arrived a few days before the conference 
 on religion which had ended so disastrously. 
 
 To Charles, and to the Spanish courtiers who were not 
 behind the scenes, the arrival of the Dispensation seemed to be 
 all that was necessary to complete the match, and Madrid was 
 thrown into a joyful excitement. But it soon became apparent 
 that this was only the beginning of a great controversy. The 
 Dispensation would be null and void unless the Prince swore to 
 observe the conditions laid down by Rome, and those conditions 
 were even harder than the articles previously discussed with the 
 
166 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Spanish ministers. Every stringent agreement by which the 
 Princess should be safeguarded in her faith was elaborately set 
 forth. It was demanded that the children of the marriage 
 should be educated in the Catholic faith, and surrounded by 
 Catholic nurses and teachers until they reached twelve years of 
 age ; that they should not be disqualified from succession to 
 the Crown of England because of their faith ; that the Infanta 
 should take with her as many Catholic priests and servants as 
 she desired, and that both she and they should have absolute 
 liberty in the public exercise of their religion. These articles, 
 especially those relating to the upbringing of the children, were 
 difficult of acceptance by the Prince of a nation to whom such 
 a treaty, if published, would give the greatest offence, and both 
 Charles and Buckingham expressed their indignation that the 
 conditions of the marriage should have been altered and made 
 more stringent since the private agreement with Gondomar in 
 England. 
 
 Buckingham had a furious encounter with Olivares, and for 
 two days afterwards the Favourites refused to speak to one 
 another. By this time Buckingham would have gladly washed 
 his hands of the whole business and set sail for home, but Charles 
 was willing to yield every possible point that could in safety and 
 honour be conceded rather than go home without his bride. 
 He dreaded the ridicule of such a return with that horror of 
 proud and sensitive youth. So he parleyed and made conces- 
 sions and vain promises, which, as a constitutional prince, would 
 certainly have never been fulfilled. 
 
 In all these negotiations with the Spanish counsellors very 
 little was said about one part of the bargain, which had been 
 the greatest inducement to James to favour the Spanish mar- 
 riage — the restitution of the Palatinate. It had been tacitly 
 ignored by Olivares, and in their great desire to smooth over 
 difficulties, both the Prince and Buckingham had not pressed 
 the question forward. When, after his return to England with 
 the sense of failure rankling in his heart, the Prince was as eager 
 to break off the marriage as he had previously been eager to 
 arrange it, this omission was charged against the Spaniards 
 as a violation of their agreement, and demanded as the main 
 clause of the contract. But it must be admitted that while 
 in Madrid the Prince and Buckingham were more to blame 
 
OUVARES, PRIME MINISTER OF SPAIN 
 
 FROM THE PAINTING BY VELAZQUEZ IN THE HERMITAGE, ST. PETERSBURG 
 
IN OLD MADRID 167 
 
 than the Spaniards for leaving the question of the Palatinate 
 unsettled. 
 
 But to the full demand of the Pope Charles would not agree. 
 So there was further delay and further displays of temper from 
 Buckingham. 
 
 It must be admitted that our " hero " Buckingham (he had 
 few of the conventional virtues of heroism !) was the centre of 
 these personal discords. Always cheerfully arrogant, and accus- 
 tomed, as Favourite, to playing the leading part in any drama 
 illuminated by his magnificence, he was extremely mortified 
 to see that the Spanish ministers were inclined to ignore him, 
 and paid higher respect to Digby, Earl of Bristol. According 
 to Bishop Hacket and others, the Count Olivares especially was 
 most marked in his disregard of Buckingham's diplomatic posi- 
 tion, and in the great honour he paid to Bristol. This found out 
 the weak spot in Buckingham's shining armour of conceit. He 
 behaved, it seems, as petulantly as a foolish boy, and made a 
 great scene one day because Bristol went ahead in the King's 
 coach with the Prince, while he was left to travel behind with 
 people of less importance. He sulked outrageously, and pro- 
 tested against what he considered as a slight deliberately put 
 upon him, until his wounded vanity was assuaged a little by 
 overtaking the Royal party, and taking his usual place at their 
 side. Bristol, astonished at this show of temper, behaved cour- 
 teously, and like a gentleman, and indeed it must be granted 
 to him that throughout this visit of his Prince to Spain he 
 seems to have been consistently affable and courteous, though 
 he had ample reason to dislike the presence of the Favourite. 
 
 Meanwhile the papal Nuncio Massimi declared that the 
 Pope's declared will must be fulfilled to the letter before the 
 Dispensation could take effect. Thus there was a deadlock. 
 
 Buckingham, quite desperate, but believing as usual in the 
 magnetism of his personality, endeavoured to use his persuasive- 
 ness on this inflexible Italian. Dramatic always in his tempera- 
 ment, he sought an interview with the Nuncio in the dead of 
 night, and argued with him hotly for three hours, using every 
 form of entreaty and threat. "There is no way," he said at 
 last, " to treat for this marriage, but with the sword drawn over 
 the Catholics." But the Italian was politely obdurate, and 
 Buckingham's energy spent itself in vain. 
 
168 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Charles now made more promises to grant religious'toleration 
 to the Catholics in England, and these were submitted to a Junta 
 of Theologians. They, after many solemn deliberations, decided 
 that the marriage might take place provided that the Infanta 
 remained in Spain for a year after the ceremony had been per- 
 formed, within which time the penal laws must be repealed in 
 England, and the free exercise of their religion in their private 
 houses should be publicly proclaimed to English Catholics, the 
 King, the Prince, and the Privy Council swearing that these 
 privileges should never be withdrawn, and obtaining the assent 
 of Parliament to these undertakings. 
 
 When this decision was announced, Buckingham was again 
 furious, and more candid than his Prince, not having the same 
 inducements of love to keep him silent, burst out into violent 
 reproaches. The whole business, he said, was full of trickery 
 and deceit. Olivares turned to him scornfully, and said : " It 
 would have been better if you had never meddled with it, but 
 had left it in Bristol's hands." 
 
 During all this time in England poor James had hoped 
 against hope that all was going well. The letters he received 
 from his two "sweet boys" had hinted at trouble, but had 
 always ended with hope. So sure was he that they would soon 
 return, that Denmark House and St. James's were being sump- 
 tuously decorated by Inigo Jones for the Infanta's reception, 
 and a fleet was being furnished, which would shortly set sail 
 under the Earl of Rutland, Buckingham's father-in-law, to bring 
 back the bride and bridegroom. 
 
 To show his gratitude to Buckingham for having, as he 
 thought, safely brought this adventure to a happy issue, he sent 
 him out the highest honour which might be granted to an 
 English subject, and the Lord Marquis became in May of this 
 year 1623 His Grace the Duke of Buckingham. When, alone 
 in his room, he sat looking upon the paper which gave him 
 this supreme honour, the magnificent Englishman, all blazing 
 in his jewels, must have thought for at least a few moments of 
 that George Villiers, who but seven years ago, dressed in a rusty 
 black suit, " had hung at the heels of the Court seeking a place." 
 
 But James himself was secretly anxious and troubled, and 
 he received a strange letter from his son, which must have 
 shown him that all was not well at Madrid. 1 
 
IN OLD MADRID 169 
 
 " Sir," wrote Charles, " I do find that if I have not somewhat 
 under your Majesty's hand to show whereby that ye engage 
 yourself to do whatsoever I shall promise in your name, that it 
 will retard the business a great while ; wherefore I humbly 
 beseech your Majesty to send me a warrant to this effect : — 
 'We do here promise by the word of a King that whatso- 
 ever you our son shall promise in our name, we shall punc- 
 tually perform.' Sir, I confess this is an ample trust that I 
 desire, and if it were not mere necessity I should not be so 
 bold." 
 
 The extraordinary weakness of James when his affections 
 were appealed to may be realized by his immediate reply to this 
 outrageous request. 
 
 " It were a strange trust," he wrote, " that I should refuse to 
 put upon my only son and upon my best servant. I know such 
 two as ye are will never promise in my name but what may stand 
 with my conscience, honour, and safety, and all these I do fully 
 trust to any one of you two." 
 
 Then four weeks passed without the King receiving a 
 single line from Madrid. He went about dazed and sorrow- 
 ful, so that all in the Court and the very people feared a 
 great tragedy or dishonour to the nation. Then on the 
 evening of June 14 Francis Cottington arrived at Greenwich, 
 having travelled at all speed from the Spanish Court. He 
 brought with him letters from the Prince and his companion, in 
 which for the first time James learnt the full truth of the Spanish 
 demands, the concessions offered by the Prince, and what to the 
 King was the worst blow of all, the possibility that his son 
 would be kept in Madrid for a whole year more, not as the 
 husband of the Infanta, but as the prisoner of Spain, until James 
 himself had fulfilled all that was promised, and gained over the 
 Parliament to assent to the independence of the Catholic faith 
 in England. The poor old man, poring over these letters, was 
 plunged deep in despair and terror. That night he wrote a 
 letter expressing all his grief. 
 
 " My sweet boys, your letter by Cottington hath strucken me 
 dead. I fear it shall very much shorten my days ; and I am the 
 more perplexed that I know not how to satisfy the people's 
 expectation here ; neither know I what to say to our Council 
 for the fleet that stayed upon a wind this fortnight. Rutland 
 
170 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 and all aboard must now be stayed, and I know not what reason 
 I shall pretend for the doing of it. But as for my advice and 
 directions that ye crave, in case they will not alter their decree, 
 it is in a word to come speedily away if ye can get leave, and give 
 over all treaty. And this I speak without respect of any security 
 they can offer you, except ye never look to see your old dad 
 again, whom I fear ye shall never see, if ye see him not this 
 winter. Alas ! I now repent me sore that ever I suffered you to 
 go away. I care for match, nor nothing, so I may once have 
 you in my arms again. God grant it ! God grant it! God 
 grant it ! Amen ! amen ! amen ! I protest ye shall be as 
 heartily welcome as if ye had done all things ye went for, so 
 that I may once have you in my arms again, and God bless you 
 both, my only sweet son, and my only best sweet servant ; and 
 let me hear from you quickly with all speed, as ye love my life, 
 and so God speed you a happy and joyful meeting in the arms 
 of your dear dad." 
 
 During all this fretful business Charles had had to restrain 
 the ardour of his young blood. He was only allowed to speak 
 with the Princess in the presence of a witness, with Lord Bristol 
 as interpreter, and the King, " who," says Howell, " always sat 
 hard by to overhear all." Archie, the King's fool, who had come 
 over with the train of English courtiers, was much more familiar 
 with the Princess than her Royal lover. " Our cousin Archie," 
 says Howell again, " hath more privilege than any, for he often 
 goes with his fool's coat when the Infanta is with her duennas and 
 Ladies of Honour, and keeps a-blowing and blustering among 
 them, blurting out what he lists." Charles may well have envied 
 his own fool. 
 
 No doubt all this carefulness to prevent any rash dalliance of 
 love, which'might afterwards come to nothing, piqued the Prince 
 into believing that he had a sincere passion for the Princess, and 
 being young, of poetic temperament, and influenced by the 
 romance of his mission, and by the very atmosphere of Madrid, 
 where Cupid-sighs are in every breeze, it is not wildly improb- 
 able that he did really have at this time an amorous imagination 
 in which the Spanish girl, with her pink-and-white face, appeared 
 as the lady of his heart's desire. Howell says that he had seen 
 him, pensive, with those dark grave eyes of his fixed steadily 
 upon the Princess for half an hour at a time, and that driving 
 
IN OLD MADRID 171 
 
 out in a coach he would make it stay at the corner of some 
 street for a whole hour, while he waited and watched for this 
 Donna to come by. Olivares declared publicly that Charles 
 watched the Infanta as a cat does a mouse. 
 
 Perhaps all this was nothing but a pose, carefully thought 
 out by Buckingham, who delighted in such stage-management. 
 But certainly Charles and his companion played the game well, 
 and in spite of all vexations and bitter disappointment, kept up 
 this character of knight-errantry in a really heroic style. Not 
 Pyramus, nor Palamon, nor Amadis de Gaul, nor any other lover 
 of chivalrous romance, did a more gay adventure in love than 
 when the Prince of Wales set out one morning with his com- 
 panion to the garden of the Casa de Campo, where, when the 
 dew was still in the flower-cups, the Donna Infanta wandered 
 along the bank of a little stream, "in maiden meditation 
 fancy free." Charles Stuart, that young man like Arthur's 
 dearest knight, in his grave beauty, stepped on tip-toe across 
 the greensward of that garden outside the city, followed by his 
 one companion, his eyes lustrous With the emotion of this love- 
 sport, and roving in search of the fair Princess. Presently he 
 could hear her voice, but, alas ! she was in the orchard beyond 
 the garden, and a wall divided them. But love is not to be 
 baulked by bricks. Charles Stuart, given a leg-up by his 
 comrade, mounted the wall, though it was very high, and, poised 
 a moment, like Mercury new lighted on a heaven-kissing hill, 
 sprang to earth. But his reception by her whom he called his 
 mistress was extremely disconcerting. Instead of greeting him 
 with a gracious hand, and eyes on fire with affection, the Infanta 
 no sooner saw him than she gave a loud scream, and fled in 
 alarm to her attendants. We can imagine the figure of Charles, 
 gallant in his cavalier dress, with its drooping feather and 
 bejewelled hat-band, but stiff and embarrassed at this predica- 
 ment, the colour of mingled shame and anger staining his pale 
 face. An old Marquis, the Infanta's guardian, approached, and 
 falling on his knees, begged the Prince to retire, adding that he, 
 the Princess's servant, would be likely to lose his head should 
 he suffer His Highness to remain. Charles must have cursed 
 Buckingham and his own romantic temperament that had urged 
 him to this folly. Above everything in the world the Stuart 
 hated to be ridiculous, and now he was made a fool of by this 
 
172 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 mistress, who screamed at his approach. Fortunately he was 
 spared the ignominy of climbing up the wall without a friendly 
 hand as a stirrup for his foot, and, the orchard door being 
 unlocked, he left that fair garden and his reluctant lady-love. If 
 Buckingham were on the other side of the wall, we can imagine 
 the gay dog laughing till his sides ached at the Prince's discom- 
 fiture and long visage. 
 
 George was not so popular in Spain as his magnificence and 
 gallantry deserved. The ladies certainly were dazzled by his 
 splendid figure, and by the generous way in which he dispersed 
 the jewels begged from his old dad and gossip. But the 
 Spaniards of the Court were accustomed to stiff* and stately 
 etiquette in the presence of the Blood Royal, and were shocked 
 to their very marrow by the flippant familiarity of this favourite 
 in the company of his Prince. It seemed to them something 
 gross and insolent that this marquis should show so little rever- 
 ence to his master. " He was sometimes covered," says Bishop 
 Hacket, "when the Prince was bare; sometimes sitting when 
 the Prince stood ; capering aloft in sudden fits ; and chirping 
 the ends of sonnets." This was bad enough, but what en- 
 venomed such grave men as Olivares against the light-hearted 
 companion of the Prince was the suspicion that he poked fun at 
 them. " The Duke of Buckingham," says the Bishop, in his Life 
 of the Lord Keeper Williams, " it must be owned, was very rash 
 and too precipitous in Spain, delighting to give matters of the 
 highest concern unaccountable turns according to his own fancy, 
 which method was very disagreeable according to the formalities 
 of the Spanish nation. They had been told that he used to 
 make jests upon them, and deride them for their gravity and 
 state. This made them see everything he did in the worst 
 light." Nothing could be more horrible to a Spanish grandee 
 than to be the subject of ridicule. Yet to us, though for political 
 reasons such behaviour was most dangerous, there is some- 
 thing rather charming in this picture of Steenie, utterly careless 
 of all the pomposities of the Spanish Court, " chirping the ends 
 of sonnets," careless whether he had his hat on or off, or whether 
 he stood or sat, but always cheerfully at ease, and satisfied 
 with his own shining splendour. Although George Villiers was 
 essentially an adventurer, and a professional favourite, he did 
 not pander to princes, but rather regarded himself as raised 
 
IN OLD MADRID 173 
 
 above them in grace of manhood. That is his redeeming quality 
 to those who scorn a mere flatterer. 
 
 Neither the Prince nor Buckingham, however, was having 
 so gay a time as had been expected. Of all those travellers 
 who had ridden across France on the tracks of the Prince, not all 
 actually arrived in Madrid. For it was broadly hinted to the 
 visitors that so great a retinue of Englishmen would not be 
 welcomed by the Spanish Court. The truth is that not a reign 
 had passed since Drake had " singed the King of Spain's beard," 
 and the English seamen had destroyed the great argosies of 
 the Spanish main. These things could not be wholly forgotten, 
 and although in the first flush of the Prince's coming the people 
 of Madrid and the Spanish Court had been captivated by the 
 romance of it, now in cooler blood the old racial and religious 
 antagonism began to creep out So Charles sent a rider post 
 haste to Santander to turn back the greater part of his personal 
 retinue. Only a few found their way to Madrid. Even these 
 were received with cold shoulders. The Prince's apartments 
 were not large enough to accommodate his attendants, and the 
 Spanish Chamberlain decided that they should sleep at the 
 other end of the town, a hopelessly inconvenient arrangement. 
 With all their time on their hands, they wandered about the 
 streets of Madrid, or played cards until they cursed them and 
 this enforced idleness. The Prince their master, seeing how 
 useless they were, yielded to their grumbling at last, and told 
 them to pack home. One of them, James Eliot by name, took 
 his farewell with a quaint speech, which was afterwards told as 
 a good story in England. 
 
 " This is a dangerous place," he said, " to alter a man and 
 turn him. I myself in a short time have perceived my own 
 weakness and am almost turned." 
 
 " How turned ? " said Charles. 
 
 " In religion," replied Eliot. 
 
 " What motive had you to turn ? " asked the Prince. 
 
 " Marry," said Eliot, with a grin, " when I was in England I 
 turned the whole Bible over to find Purgatory, and because I could 
 not find it there I believed there was none. But now I have come 
 to Spain I find it here, and that your Highness is in it j whence 
 that you may be released, all your Highness's servants, who are 
 going to Paradise, will offer unto God our utmost devotions." 
 
174 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 To Charles there was a bitter jest in the speech that could 
 not have been palatable. 
 
 His Grace the Duke of Buckingham would have rejoiced to 
 go with Eliot to the Paradise that held his Kate, but by his 
 loyalty to the Prince he was bound to stay until the marriage 
 was made or marred. He turned to private amusements to 
 cheer his spirits, which had been so miserably damped, and to 
 cool his hot temper, which now blazed out too easily against 
 Olivares and the tricky Spaniards. 
 
 According to his enemies, and even in the Chronicle of 
 Bishop Goodman, who " did most dearly love him," he is 
 accused of endangering the private honour of his hosts, by 
 paying too much attention to their ladies. It is difficult to get 
 at the truth of this, and we would like to disprove such charges. 
 The worst of them is certainly a lie. Peyton, Wilson, Weldon, 
 and others declare, with many disgusting details, that Villiers 
 became inflamed with passion for the Countess of Olivares, and 
 that when she, not favouring such villainy, confided the news 
 of it to her husband, Philip's favourite, these two plotted to 
 mutilate the rash lover, as a horrible vengeance. 
 
 Lord Clarendon has given the weight of his authority to 
 discredit this scandal against Buckingham. " Though the 
 Duke," he says, " was naturally carried violently to those 
 passions where there was any grace or beauty in the object, yet 
 the Duchess of Olivares was then a woman so old, past children, 
 of so abject a presence, in a word so crooked and deformed, 
 that she could neither tempt his appetite nor magnify his 
 revenge." 
 
 But it is impossible to clear Buckingham entirely from all 
 the scandals that are hinted against him, though for the sake of 
 Kate, who waited for him at York House (she had left New 
 Hall to come to Town), and had faith in his constancy, it would 
 be good to do so. 
 
 " For the good duke," says Bishop Goodman, with a quaint 
 candour of speech, " I cannot deny but that he did a little offend 
 in his wantonness. For the Spanish ladies having their bodies 
 scorched up with the sun, they have not corpus sued plenum, as 
 the comedian saith ; whereby they are not so milch inclined to 
 that vice as others are ; and therefore therein Buckingham did 
 mistake in his choice : besides the strictness of their confession 
 
IN OLD MADRID 175 
 
 and religion which so much extols chastity. This I will say 
 in my own knowledge of Buckingham, though I was never his 
 ghostly father, no man could be more sorrowful and penitent 
 for offending in that kind than Buckingham was. And seeing 
 that the Knight taxeth almost every man for that offence, as I 
 do not excuse Buckingham for the crime so I commend him for 
 his penitency. He that sinned with David became a true 
 penitent with David. Yet I confess that in that regard 
 Buckingham was not so gracious with the Spanish nation." 
 
 At home Kate pined for his return, and as the weary months 
 dragged on when the negotiations for the marriage were still 
 being haggled, she sickened at his long absence, cheered only 
 by affectionate old James, who was very kind to his Favourite's 
 wife, by little Mary, or " Mall," her daughter, and by the great 
 love for that " noble lord " in whose constancy she believed. 
 
 " My dear Lord," she writes, " I humbly thank you that you 
 were pleased to write so many letters to me, which was so great 
 a comfort to me as you cannot imagine ; for I protest to God I 
 have had a grievous time of this our grievous absence, for I am 
 sure it has been so to me, and my heart has felt enough, more than 
 I hope it shall ever do again ; and I pray God release me quickly 
 out of it by your speedy coming hither again to her that does as 
 dearly love you as ever woman did man ; and if everybody did 
 love you but a quarter so well you were the happiest man that 
 was ever born, but that is impossible. But I protest I think you 
 are the best beloved that ever favourite was, for all that have true 
 worth in them cannot but love your sweet disposition ; if I were 
 not so near you as I thank Christ I am, I could say no less if I 
 said truth, for I think there was never such a man born as you 
 are ; and how much am I bound to God that I must be that 
 happy woman to enjoy you from all other women, and the 
 unworthiest of all to have so great a blessing. Only this I can 
 say for myself, you could never a' had one that could love you 
 better than your poor true loving Kate doth, — poor now in your 
 absence, but else the happiest and richest woman in the world. 
 I thank you for your long letter ; I think I must give Sir Francis 
 Cottington thanks for it too, because you say he bade you write 
 long letters. I am beholden to him for it, because I am sure 
 he knew they could never be too long for me, for it is all the 
 
176 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 comfort I have now to read often over your letters. My reason 
 I desired you not to do it, was for fear of troubling you too 
 much ; but since you think it none, I am much bound to you for 
 it, and I beseech you to continue it I hope to see you by this. 
 I have not omitted writing by any that went, for this is the six- 
 teenth letter, and the least I have written to you since you went, 
 whereof two of them I sent by common posts ; and I hope they 
 will all come safely to your hands. I thank you for sending me 
 good news of our young mistress ; I am very glad she is so 
 delicate a creature, and of so sweet a disposition ; indeed my 
 Lady Bristol sent me word she was a very fine lady and as good 
 as fine. I am very glad of it, and that the Prince likes her so 
 well, for the King says he is wonderfully taken with her. It 
 is a wonderful good hearing, for it were a great pity but 
 the Prince should have one he can love, because I think he 
 will make a very honest husband, which is the greatest com- 
 fort in this world to have man and wife love truly. ... I can 
 send you no certain word yet of my being with child, but I am 
 not out of hope, but we must refer all to God : as soon as I am 
 quick I will send you word if I be with child. I thank God 
 Moll is very well with her weaning. Thus with my daily 
 prayers for our happy meeting, I take my leave. 
 
 " Your loving and obedient wife, 
 
 "K. Buckingham 
 " I pray send me word when you come " 
 
 The weaning of the little Lady Mary mentioned by the 
 Duchess was an affair in which the King took a great interest, 
 as he did in all matters concerning his " poor fool Kate," as he 
 affectionately called her. In a letter from the Duchess to His 
 Majesty, after thanking him for two boxes of dried plums and 
 grapes, and a box of " mollatt cakes " and chickens, she says : 
 
 " I hope my Lord Anan has told your Ma u> that I did mean 
 to wean Mall very shortly. I would not by any means adone it, 
 till I had first made your Ma* 1, acquanted with it, and by reason 
 my cousin Bret's boy has been ill of late, for fear she should 
 greeve and spyle her mylke, maks me very desiorous to wean 
 her, and I think she is old enough, and I hope will endure her 
 weaning very well, for I think there was never child cared less 
 for the breast then she does, so I do intend to make trial this 
 
IN OLD MADRID 177 
 
 night how she will endure it; this day praying for your Ma". 
 health and longe life ; I humbly take my leave, your Ma a ' most 
 humble servant." 
 
 There is another charming letter from Kate to her husband 
 in Spain which must be quoted fully, as it gives an intimate 
 picture of her home-life, and expresses all her wifely longing and 
 devotion, revealing the heart of a good and fragrant woman of 
 the seventeenth century : — 
 
 " Dear Heart, 
 
 "When Kiligrey came, I did hope that all things had 
 been agreed on there, and that it was all in our good King to 
 dispatch, which I was confident he would hasten all he could ; 
 but when Dick Grime * came, I perceived by your letter that 
 you had not your answer: what that was I know not, for I 
 thought you were agreed of all. Sir Francis Cottington tells 
 me, that when he is dispatched you will come away presently, 
 which puts me in very good comfort, for if I could once be so 
 happy as to know the certain time of your coming I should be 
 well satisfied. I have sent you some perspective glasses, the 
 best I could get. I am sorry the Prince is kept at such distance 
 that he needs them to see her.f I am afraid it is a sign, if he 
 get her it will be long first. Yet we hear that the Prince, and 
 the Infanta, and the Queen walked a great while in a garden 
 together. Now Gresly } is despatched, I hope, by the next that 
 comes after his arrival there, you will be able to send us some 
 certainty. My lord, indeed I must crave your pardon that I 
 did write you no more particulars of our pretty Moll. I did tell 
 dry-nurse what you wrote to me, and she says you had one 
 letter from her ; and she has sent you word, by every one that 
 has gone, that she was well and what she could do. But if you 
 will pardon me this fault I will commit the like no more. She 
 is very well, I thank God ; and when she is set to her feet, and 
 held by her sleeves, she will not go santly, but stamp and set 
 one foot afore another very fast that I think she will run before 
 she can go. She loves dancing extremely, and when the 
 
 * Sir Richard Graham, Buckingham's master of horse, who had returned with 
 despatches. 
 
 f The Infanta. 
 
 X One of the Earl of Bristol's men. 
 
 N 
 
178 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 saraband is played, she will get her thumb and finger together, 
 offering to snap ; and then when Tom Duff is sung, then she will 
 shake her apron ; and when she hears the tune of the clapping 
 dance my Lady Frances Herbert taught the Prince, she will clap 
 both her hands together, and on her breast, and she can tell the 
 tunes as well as any of us can ; and as they change the tunes, 
 she will change her dancing. I would you were here but to see 
 her, for you would take much delight in her, now she is so full 
 of pretty play and tricks ; and she has gotten a trick, that when 
 they dance her she will cry Hah, hah ! and Nicholas will dance 
 with his legs, and she will imitate him as well as she can. She 
 will be excellent at a hat, for if one lay her down she will 
 kick her legs over her head ; but when she is older I hope she 
 will be more modest. Every body says she grows every day 
 more like you than other. You shall have her picture very 
 shortly.* I am very glad you have the pearls, and that you 
 like them so well ; and am sure they do not help you to win the 
 ladies' hearts. Yourself is a jewel that will win the hearts of all 
 the women in the world ; but I am confident it is not in their 
 power to win your heart from a heart that is, was, and ever shall 
 be yours till death. Every body tells me how happy I am in a 
 husband, and how chaste you are ; that you will not look at a 
 woman, and yet how they woo you. Sir Francis Cotington was 
 yesterday telling of me how you made a vow not to touch any 
 woman till you saw me ; and though I was confident of it 
 before they told me, yet it is so many cordials to my heart when 
 they tell me of it. God made me thankful to him for giving of 
 me you ! Dear love, I did verily hope I should a' had a lock of 
 your hair by Killigrew, and I am sorry I had it not ; but seeing 
 you have a conceit it may prove unlucky, it is well you sent it 
 not, though I think it but an old wife's tale ; for I do assure 
 myself it would not prove unlucky between us. But since you 
 have a belief in it, I shall begin to think so too ; therefore let it 
 alone. Dear heart, since I cannot have this, I pray will you, if 
 you have any idle time, sit to Gerbere for your picture, that I may 
 
 * Balthasar Gerbier, in a letter to Buckingham, says : " Madame desires me to 
 send your Excellency a portrait of herself and your sweet little lady, but the time of 
 the departure of the vessels has been so short that I have been obliged ito send that 
 which was painted three years ago ; and for the little lady she has been painted in 
 great haste, and only half finished ; the hands that crave a blessing on your Excellency 
 are merely outlined." 
 
IN OLD MADRID 179 
 
 have it well done in little ? * If once I could have that I should 
 think myself very happy. I beseech you grant me this request ; 
 for since I must be barred of the principal, I must feed, as new 
 lovers do, on the shadow ; and as would one to one grieve and 
 sorrow, for I protest that is truly my part. I would I could tell 
 when I might be relieved out of it. I am sure by this you know 
 certain news about my being with child. I would I had been so 
 happy, but since it is not so, I hope I shall be often : and I pray 
 do you not trouble yourself at it, and I care not. I have seen 
 his Majesty lately, but have not seen the picture Toby Mathew 
 did ; but I hope the next time I shall. I do imagine what a 
 rare piece it is being of his doing.t Since the Prince keeps that 
 Gerbere has done for the Infanta, I hope nobody shall have the 
 next he does for me ; for I do much desire to see a good picture 
 of hers, for I hear her infinitely commended : she had need prove 
 a good one, that the Prince may think his journey and delay well 
 bestowed on her ; for I swear he deserves her be she never so 
 handsome and good, to undertake such a journey for her ; and 
 she had need make us poor wives some amends for being the 
 cause of keeping our husbands from us ; but I think it is not her 
 fault, for I warrant she would fain have despatched too. 
 
 " Indeed, my lord, I do excuse you to your friends for not 
 writing, and I wonder they should take it unkindly knowing 
 how full of business you are. My lady $ is very well ; she is 
 now gone into the country for ten days, and then she will return 
 and stay till you return. She is very well I assure you. My 
 brother Purbeck they say is very well ; but Sir Thomas Compton 
 grows worse and worse.§ I am glad the King did write so 
 
 * Gerbier was on his way to Italy, where he hoped to meet Buckingham returning 
 with the Prince and his bride. " I am advised," he writes, "before my return from 
 Italy to make a pretty piece of the return from Spain with the Infanta ; for instance, 
 a triumph by sea, representing a chariot with the Prince and Princess, Neptune 
 driving his sea-horses, and your Excellency as Admiral of the Sea in the front of the 
 chariot, holding in your hands the reins. ... I think that this would be very beautiful 
 and tend to immortalize this action of yours, having brought the Princess by sea, and 
 would be a beautiful present to be presented on the part of your Excellency to the 
 Prince. 
 
 f There is a reference to this picture by Sir Tobie Mathew in one of Buckingham's 
 letters to the King. 
 
 X Buckingham's mother. 
 
 § The Countess of Buckingham, in a letter to her son from Goodby, says that her 
 husband, Sir Thomas Compton, went to Court to get the King's leave to follow the 
 Favourite to Spain, "but the King perceiving by his over much talk that he was not 
 
180 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 peremptorily for you to come away, for I hope now, if they would 
 delay you longer you will be put off no longer. I am very 
 much bound to my lady, that she is pleased to take my usage of 
 her so kindly. I assure you I was very glad to see her : and I 
 do as much love and honor I think as you do almost ; though I 
 know if my own mother were alive I could not be so good 
 a daughter as you are a son, yet I should love her very dearly 
 too ; and if my own mother were alive, I think I could not love 
 her better than I do my lady, for I am sure I have been ever 
 much bound to her. When the King went to Newhall it was 
 reported here in town he went to meet you there ; I would they 
 had said truly. For my own part I am sure I should a' been 
 very glad of \t, and so I know would you ; but I am sure I have 
 the most reason. My lord I have not yet been to Newhall, but 
 I do intend shortly to go see how forward things are there. 
 The walk to the house is done, and the tennis courts almost 
 done, but the garden is not done nor nothing to the bowling 
 green ; and yet I told Fotherbe, and he told me, he would set 
 men to work presently. But I do warrant you they will all be 
 ready before you come for Buely. I heard the wall is not very 
 forward yet, and my lady bade me send you word that she is 
 gone down to look how things are there. She says she is about 
 making a little river to run through the park, it will be about 
 sixteen feet broad : but she says she wants money. Thus hoping 
 I have obeyed your commands in sending you word of all things 
 you bade me I rest 
 
 " Your most dutiful wife till death, 
 
 "K. Buckingham 
 
 " I humbly thank you for the chain you sent me by Mr. 
 Killigrew. I am sorry I sent for more now you have sent so 
 many " 
 
 Later on, in August, Buckingham's wife wrote a sad letter to 
 
 well in his head sent him home to me in a pitiful case. Dr. Hanton hath given him 
 physic, but hath done him little good ; his opinion is that his excess of tobacco and 
 wine hath hurt his brain ; so that I have sent him to Whittlewood Forest, where Mr. 
 Napper hath promised me to do his best to recover him." The Countess concludes 
 her letter : " All goeth as well at home as your heart can imagine. My sweet Moll 
 I hope will have a brother before it be long." From Kate's letter we see that this 
 hope was for a time disappointed. 
 
IN OLD MADRID 181 
 
 him, telling him that she had been very ill, so sick and ill that 
 her friends thought she was falling into a consumption. 
 
 "Indeed," she says, "I looked very ill and was ill, but I thank 
 God and Doctor More and Miron I have recovered my good looks 
 again, but if I tell you the truth, I must first thank you for the 
 good news you sent me by my Lord of Andover, that your 
 business was concluded, and that you hoped to come away when 
 Sir Francis Cottington. came to you ; which was the best cordial 
 to recover me that could be. The physician's physic could 
 never have done me good if that had not come as it did, for 
 merely melancholy was the cause of my sickness. I hope when 
 we are together again, we shall have no more such partings ; for 
 if ever I should be unfortunate again, I am sure it would kill 
 me : then might you have a finer and a handsomer, but never a 
 lovinger wife than your Kate is." 
 
 It is evident from this letter that Buckingham had revealed 
 at least some of his vexations and anxieties at Madrid. "It 
 has been a great grief to me to think you should be so 
 troubled," writes the poor Duchess ; and then, after describing 
 her illness, " it grieved me infinitely you should be so discon- 
 tented ; but I hope by this you are merrier, which for God's 
 sake be, I beseech you, or else you will kill my heart." 
 
 Poor soul ! There was a harder thing to bear than all other 
 ill news, and in the lines that follow we see the frailty of Buck- 
 ingham's nature, confessed by himself, yet (so forgiving are 
 women !) forgiven by his wife. 
 
 "Dear heart," she writes, "I hope you make no doubt of 
 that which has been the cause of my illness, for never creature 
 has felt more grief than I have done since your going. And 
 where you say it is too great a punishment for a greater offender 
 than you hope you are, dear heart how severe God had been 
 pleased to have dealt with me, it had been for my sins and not 
 yours ; for truly you are so good a man, that but for one sin, 
 you are not so great an offender, only your loving women so 
 well. But I hope God has forgiven you and I am sure you will 
 not commit the like again. ... I hope of your remove out of 
 that wicked Madrid, and am very glad that you bring the Infanta 
 with you, that all journeys may be ended, for I should have 
 been in perpetual fear of your going again if she had stayed 
 behind you." 
 
182 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 In the same letter Kate Buckingham tells her husband that 
 she has pressed the King to write a letter earnestly requesting 
 the Prince and Buckingham to come away, "and I do assure 
 myself the King has done it." The unhappy Duchess was not 
 mistaken. On the loth of August the King wrote peremptorily 
 to his son to bring home his mistress quickly ; " but if no better 
 may be rather than to linger any longer there to come with- 
 out her." Then he adds, earnestly, " I know your love to her 
 person hath enforced you to delay the putting in execution of 
 my former commandment. I confess that it is my chiefest 
 worldly joy that ye love her ; but the necessity of my affairs 
 enforceth me to tell you that you must prefer the obedience to 
 a father to the love ye carry to a mistress." 
 
 Upon the receipt of this letter, Buckingham, who had been 
 sick of an ague, used all his influence to induce the Prince to 
 leave his hopeless love match and go home. But Charles was 
 too infatuated and too sensitive even now to return alone, and 
 though he used the King's letter as a threat to the Spanish 
 Court, he still lingered on, using new arguments, in the vain hope 
 that; after all the Infanta would be allowed to accompany him. 
 
 Buckingham's patience was long ago exhausted, and he had 
 every personal reason for returning. There were many candid 
 friends at home who wrote long letters to him, pointing out that 
 his continued absence was endangering his position with the 
 King, and that the English people were beginning to hate him 
 as the prime cause of the Prince's troubles. As early as March 
 Sir Tobie Mathew, son of the late Archbishop of York, though 
 a convert to Catholicism, made Buckingham acquainted with 
 the cabals against him in the English Court. "Divers great 
 men," he says, '' are watching very close upon the King's heart 
 to see if they can discover any hair's breadth of departure therein 
 from you ; to the end that by degrees they might take you out 
 from thence." Designs were being formed against the Duke, 
 the end of which " is to make your lordship very odious ; and 
 that being once soundly done, to go to the King as soon as they 
 shall find courage enough in the truth and malice of others ; 
 and to beseech his Majesty that justice can be done against 
 you in some exemplar course." Edward Clarke, a faithful 
 servant of Buckingham, reported in August that Lord Bristol's 
 " creatures " at home were magnifying their master's services to 
 
IN OLD MADRID 183 
 
 the King to the detriment of the Duke. " They are many and 
 malicious, and therefore worthy of your lordship's circumspection 
 at least." Other friends wrote to the Duke advising him to get 
 popularity by throwing over the marriage, and " making him- 
 self their darling by dashing the project." * 
 
 And the correspondent, one Turpyn by name, writing on the 
 first of August from the Court, informs the Duke that some of 
 his dependents are not being so well treated by the King as 
 they might otherwise have been if Buckingham were in England. 
 " I think there will shortly be foul weather, and that the storm 
 will fall upon your lordship, but I have so read the King's 
 disposition that I am no more affrighted than at hail which falls 
 upon the slates when I am within doors." 
 
 Such letters as these written by his friends would have made 
 Buckingham seriously uneasy if he had not an easy confidence 
 that his influence over the King was still secure, and that the 
 splendour of his personality would scorch up all his malignant 
 enemies as soon as he set foot again in England. But at least 
 they did not lessen his desire to return home. To the sugges- 
 tion that he should gain popularity by breaking the Spanish 
 match, Buckingham, to his honour, gave no ear, though from the 
 beginning he realized clearly what Charles in his infatuation 
 would not see, and though he repeatedly urged the Prince to 
 give up the business, he was loyal to the last, and in his blunt 
 careless way did his best to break through the meshes of 
 Spanish diplomacy and bring things to a satisfactory conclusion. 
 Though he had no subtlety, for adventurer as he was he was not 
 a schemer by nature, he could take a broad view of his fortunes, 
 and he saw clearly enough that the friendship of the Prince was 
 as necessary to him now as the King's affections. James was 
 growing old, and tired in body and mind. Perhaps it would not 
 be long before the sceptre would drop from his hand for Charles 
 to take. So Buckingham's natural loyalty to a friend was 
 strengthened by self-interest. Fortunately for himself, whichever 
 way the dice fell he was bound to win. If Charles brought back 
 his bride in triumph, it would be a victory for Buckingham; If 
 he returned without her,|Buckingham could say, " I told you so," 
 and while Charles would remember his friend's entreaties to 
 come away, his jealous care for his Prince's honour, and his 
 
 * Hacket. 
 
184 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 faithful patience (with moods of blunt impatience) in staying 
 by his side through the weary months of negotiation, the people 
 would applaud the Favourite for safeguarding the Heir-apparent 
 and meeting the crafty Spaniards with insolent contempt. 
 Although some of his letters gave him cause for uneasiness, 
 others came to bring him comfort. 
 
 It must have been good cheer to Buckingham to know that 
 his Kate was being cared for in his absence by many faithful 
 friends, of whom old James was not least kind. Lord Conway, 
 whose letters were frequent and overloaded with the most 
 cringing and obsequious flattery, tells him also of the King's 
 fondness for his little daughter. 
 
 " This day," he says, writing from Theobald's on the 3rd of 
 May, " his Majesty came from Hampton Court. He passed by 
 Sir Robert Killigrew's Park and there saw the designment of a 
 fine ground, a pretty lodge, a gracious lady, a fair maid the 
 daughter, and a fine bouquet. He saw the pools, the deer, and 
 the herondry, which was his errand. From thence his Majesty 
 came to Hyde Park, at the entry thereof he found a fair 
 lady, indeed, the fairest Lady Mary in England, and he made a 
 great deal of love to her and gave her his watch, and kept her 
 as long pleased with him as he could, not without expression 
 to all the company that it was a miracle that such an ugly 
 deformed father should have so sweet a child ; and all the 
 company agreed that it was a hard thing to find such a father 
 and such a child." 
 
 Buckingham's father-in-law, the Earl of Rutland, also sent 
 him news of the little lady upon whom he so doted. "Your 
 wife, your sister, Mr. Porter and myself," he writes, "were at 
 supper at York House when news came Dick Greame was come ; 
 but we were so impatient to see him that some could eat no 
 meat, and when we did see him and your letter they were so 
 overjoyed they forgot to eat ; nay my pretty sweet Moll> as she 
 was undressing, cried nothing but ' Dad ! Dad ! ' " 
 
 Sir Toby Mathew, Bacon's " alter ego " as he was called by 
 the ex-Lord Chancellor, was one of those who joined Bucking- 
 ham in Madrid, and in August he wrote to the Duchess a letter 
 of greater kindness than truth, trying to comfort her with cheery 
 news, and beseeching her not to contribute to the indisposition 
 of her body by the inordinate grief of her mind. 
 
IN OLD MADRID 185 
 
 " Since he who is dearer to you than yourself is as well as it 
 is possible for him to be without you, how can you find it in 
 your heart to make him worse by your being ill ? 
 
 " Some vulgar tongues may have told your Grace that the 
 Duke is not much beloved here ; but that which we here know 
 your Grace may be pleased to believe ; which is that although it 
 be impossible for any incorrupt great Minister of State to have 
 the love of a whole world, when a part of that world hath affairs 
 and ends which are contrary to his ; yet my lord hath been so 
 fortunate this way as that even his opposites in the treaty 
 carry a great affection to his person, and set a fair stamp of 
 value upon his parts ; and the King proceeds nobly towards 
 him, and the Infanta takes particular gust in him, and the 
 favourite desires nothing more than to oblige him, and the 
 Condessa de Olivares, his wife (who is one of the worthiest 
 women in the whole world), is in a kind of doting upon 
 him . . . 
 
 " Madam, I beseech you be not guilty of making the world 
 sad, now that it is upon the point of beginning to be in 
 universal joy for the happy consummation of this great business 
 which hath received so much life and heat from the Duke's 
 hand. Bespeak yourself to be full of comfort, for you shall have 
 him shortly in your arms ; and in the mean time do not think 
 him ill-bestowed where he is, since he triumpheth so gloriously 
 in the Prince's heart." 
 
 Balthazar Gerbier, the French painter who had been ap- 
 pointed by Buckingham as the collector and guardian of his art 
 treasures and furniture, and who in return for good wages and 
 many perquisites gave an almost adoring homage to his master, 
 was one of those who, in hope of favours to come, kept his 
 memory fresh by industrious correspondence. Soon after the 
 Duke's journey to Spain, he wrote to him with flattering phrases, 
 which vied with the adulation of Lord Conway himself, who was 
 Buckingham's arch-flatterer. 
 
 " Since the much regretted absence of your Excellency," he 
 wrote, "every one has been as it were overwhelmed, especially 
 those who have the greatest interest in you, as your incomparable 
 Penelope, who constantly, in this sea of trouble, has demon- 
 strated the greatness of her constancy, comforting herself with 
 the hope of seeing her sun return above the horizon, beautiful 
 
186 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 and shining as it set. They, whom good fortune has ranged 
 under the laws and service of your Excellency — these, Monsieur, 
 day and night pray to God for your very happy return, even to 
 my little George your slave who day and night prays for his 
 good Lord Buckingham. The kindness which your Excellency 
 shows me, his poor father, places him under a great obligation, 
 and makes it appear in my case that if the presence of your 
 Excellency is to me a Paradise upon earth, your absence is to 
 me a limb of misery, if there be one. The hopes which I have of 
 your Excellency's happy voyage makes my heart leap with joy, 
 and gives me an opportunity of saying to Madame whenever 
 she is in extremity of grief that whatever occasion she may have 
 of lamenting the departure of your Excellency, that she also 
 has occasion for rejoicing, and should not regret that your 
 Excellency has undertaken this journey." 
 
 After more "your Excellencies" and sundry pious hopes, 
 the French painter goes on : 
 
 " The King with great affection has sent an express for the 
 little portrait, a proof that the large and real one is ever in his 
 heart. I have painted on the lid of the box the emblem of a 
 sun-dial, the hand of which turns continually towards the pole- 
 star, with these words, Unde cumque ad idem, signifying that 
 your Excellency, though absent and transported to distant 
 lands, that your heart and your soul, unchangeable, turn and 
 aspire towards his Majesty continually. I think that the 
 portrait is esteemed a very good one — I know, in my conscience ( 
 that it is exceedingly like — although I avow that Mr. Palmer 
 does not like it ; but good gracious ! there is no greater enemy 
 of science than presumption and ignorance. Madame so greatly 
 deplores your absence that she cannot exist without having your 
 image and shadow before her eyes ; consequently, I have been 
 obliged to employ my time in finishing the great picture which 
 I had commenced in oils, which Madame keeps, as her sweet 
 saint, always within sight of her bed. I have finished it, and 
 if it be not injured by the dust, it will always remain a proof of 
 my skill. Madame desires me to send to your Excellency a 
 portrait of herself and her sweet little lady, but the time of the 
 departure of the vessels has been so short that I have been 
 obliged to send that which was painted three years ago ; and for 
 the little lady, one has been painted in great haste, and only half 
 
IN OLD MADRID 187 
 
 finished ; the hands which crave a blessing from your Excellency 
 are merely outlined." 
 
 The generally accepted idea that the Spanish marriage fell 
 through owing to the personal quarrels between the favourites 
 of Spain and England is an absurd exaggeration. The tradi- 
 tions of Spanish diplomacy were stronger than Olivares, the 
 Prime Minister, and undisturbed by the tempers of a George 
 Villiers. Yet it is true enough that Buckingham did not make 
 things easier, and towards the end of the visit he had so direly 
 offended Philip and his great minister that the Earl of Bristol 
 wrote privately to James to let him know " that suspicions and 
 distastes betwixt them all here and my lord of Buckingham 
 cannot be at a greater height." One of the Spanish courtiers 
 protested to Bristol that they would rather "put the Infanta 
 headlong into a well " than into Buckingham's power. 
 
 Nevertheless, on July 28th Buckingham and the Prince wrote 
 a joint letter to James, in which they still professed the optimism 
 which was far from their real feelings. " We can now tell you 
 certainly," they wrote, " that on the 29th of your August we 
 shall begin our journey and hope to bring her with us." Two 
 days later, however, Buckingham wrote privately to the King 
 and gave him details of all the miserable difficulties which he 
 had vainly tried to overcome. He described an interview with 
 Olivares, in which he had pressed for the immediate journey of 
 the Princess, for the sake of the Prince's own honour, for the 
 relief of the anxiety and expenses of the English King, and for 
 the favours which would be more speedily shown to the English 
 Catholics. 
 
 " With this," continues Buckingham, " I entreated him to 
 think of my poor particular, who had waited upon the Prince 
 hither and in that distasted all the people in general, how he 
 laid me open to their malice and revenge, when I had brought 
 from them their Prince a free man, and should return him bound 
 by a contract, and so locked from all posterity till they pleased 
 her, how that I could not think of this obligation without horror 
 or fear, if I were not his faithful friend and servant and intended 
 thankfulness. He interrupted this with many grumblings, but 
 at last said I had bewitched him ; but if there was a witch in 
 the company I am sure there was a devil too." 
 
 Buckingham then relates how he went to the Spanish Prime 
 
188 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Minister's wife, " who I must tell you by the way is as good a 
 woman as lives, which makes me think all favourites must have 
 good wives." She promised to use her influence, but referred 
 Buckingham to her husband, who received him again "dog- 
 gedly." 
 
 " The next day," the writer goes on, " I desired audience of 
 the Infanta. To taste her I framed this errand from your 
 Majesty, that you had commanded me to give her a particular 
 account of what you had done." 
 
 What the King had done was already too much to please 
 his subjects. He had sworn, and, with the influence of the Lord 
 Keeper Williams, had induced his Council to swear, to observe 
 the Spanish articles of marriage relating to the liberty of faith 
 of the future Princess and of any children of the marriage, and 
 the other conditions laid down by the Pope in his dispen- 
 sation. 
 
 Then Buckingham told the Infanta that the Prince would 
 never go without, " which she liked very well of," and that his, 
 the Favourite's, own thoughts " were bent to gain her the love of 
 that people whither she was to go." He said that if one made 
 a request to the Prince that English Catholics should no longer 
 be fined for their faith, he would forward her plea to the King, 
 who would certainly abolish such penalties. 
 
 James, upon receipt of this letter, did actually adopt the 
 suggestion in order to give way to his utmost to the religious 
 feelings of the Spaniards, but no concession hastened their 
 consent to the departure of their Infanta with the Prince. 
 
 Fresh troubles cropped up owing to the behaviour of 
 Charles's attendants. One of them, a young man named Henry 
 Washington, fell ill, and upon his death-bed sent for a Jesuit to 
 receive him into the Catholic Church. This aroused the Pro- 
 testant hostility of his companions, and they barred the entrance 
 to the bedchamber of the sick youth. Then when the priest 
 came an English gentleman, or at least an Englishman, struck 
 him in the face. This led, naturally, to reprisals on the part of 
 the Spanish people who witnessed the outrage upon the priest, 
 and but for the arrival of a magistrate, who laid hands on 
 Verney, and Gondomar's intercession, a serious riot would have 
 taken place. There was a demonstration of the English at the 
 graveside of the poor boy Washington, but the news of the blow 
 
IN OLD MADRID 189 
 
 to the priest had been carried to the Court, and was heard with 
 indignation. 
 
 The courtiers moralized that if Englishmen behaved in this 
 brutal way on the very soil of Spain, there was but little hope 
 that their promises in regard to the English Catholics would be 
 fulfilled. Charles thought it prudent to send Verney out of 
 Madrid, but Philip, at the instigation of the Papal Nuncio, 
 demanded a severe punishment of the offender. Charles was 
 nettled, and sent back word that the magistrate should be 
 punished for daring to lay hands on a gentleman of the English 
 Court. The affair did not drop, and Philip, dropping all the 
 courteous phrases which he had formerly lavished on the Prince, 
 curtly informed him that if he wished to stay longer in Madrid 
 he must dismiss all his Protestant attendants. 
 
 It was the last straw, and Charles, hot with anger, made up his 
 mind, after all this weary and miserable waiting for the consumma- 
 tion of his marriage, to go back without a bride. His decision 
 was hastened by an incautious speech by Olivares, who was 
 wrangling with Buckingham, in which the Spanish minister, 
 turned off his guard for a moment, confessed that the marriage 
 had never been seriously contemplated by Philip until recent 
 days, and that all previous negotiations had been merely diplo- 
 matic. Philip and his Court stood convicted of a long deceit, 
 and the amour propre of the English Prince was deeply wounded. 
 
 A fleet under the Earl of Rutland was now cruising off the 
 coast of Spain, and it was clear to the Spaniards that they could 
 no longer keep the Prince in Madrid. There were some sus- 
 picions that his departure would be a secret flight, but when 
 Olivares hinted this, Buckingham retorted haughtily that "if 
 love had induced the Prince to steal out of his own country, 
 fear should never make him run out of Spain ; and that he 
 would depart with an equipage such as became the Prince of 
 Wales." 
 
 Now that the time of parting came the Spaniards became 
 alarmed at the result of their obstinacy. At the eleventh hour 
 they showed themselves willing to make concessions which they 
 had long withheld, and fearing that the Prince's resentment 
 would lead to a quarrel between the nations, they suddenly 
 showed an eagerness to be civil and courteous. It was arranged 
 now that Charles should sign a marriage contract, and without 
 
190 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 waiting for a second dispensation from Rome, which was neces- 
 sary, owing to the death of the Pope who had despatched the 
 first, should leave a proxy in the hands of the Earl of Bristol for 
 the celebration of marriage without his presence, to be delivered 
 within ten days of the arrival of the new Pope's consent. The 
 reason given out for the return of the Prince without his bride 
 was that Charles would prevail upon the King, his father, to 
 fulfil the pledges as to the liberty of the English Catholics 
 before the arrival of the Infanta. 
 
 All this was duly promised by Charles in the most solemn 
 manner, and on September 2nd he took his leave of the Spanish 
 Court. Buckingham also paid his compliments to the King 
 and Queen, but neglected to say good-bye to the Countess of 
 Olivares. To the Prime Minister himself he gave a direct insult. 
 Telling him that he should always entertain the kindest feeling 
 towards the Royal family of Spain, he added bluntly, " but as 
 for you, sir, personally, I shall make no professions of friendship 
 with you, and you must always expect opposition at my hands." 
 Olivares answered contemptuously, that as for Buckingham's 
 friendship, he looked upon it as of no importance. It was 
 enough for him that he had always acted as a gentleman and as 
 a man of honour. 
 
 This interchange of insults was so noisily done, with high 
 voices, that it attracted the attention of the bystanders, until 
 Philip himself interrupted the scene. Buckingham's temper 
 was so smouldering that he mounted his horse with a devil on 
 his back, and defying the blazing sun, though the ague was still 
 in his bones, rode sullenly ahead of the coach which carried his 
 Prince away from the Court. 
 
 To the great public, which must always be duped by Kings 
 and Princes, the going of the Prince of Wales seemed without 
 ominous significance. He departed in pageantry, accompanied 
 for part of the way by the King and his grandees, and when the 
 final parting took place, a pillar was put up to celebrate the 
 eternal friendship between the Royal guest and the Spanish 
 monarch. It seems that the Spanish Court really bolstered 
 itself up with the hope that all was well. They knew that the 
 marriage contract had been signed, and that Charles had left 
 the authority for a wedding by proxy. Joyful bells had rung in 
 Madrid. The Princess was busy with English lesson-books, and 
 
KING PHILIP IV OF SPAIN 
 
 FROM THE PAINTING BY VELAZQUEZ IN THE PRADO, MADRID 
 
IN OLD MADRID 191 
 
 the people called her already "the Princess of England." 
 Neither the people, nor even Philip and Olivares, knew what 
 was in the heart of the pale Charles — what burning rage, what 
 bitter mortification, what bleeding vanity. Only Buckingham 
 possessed that secret, and knew how the Prince was smarting 
 and sore as he embraced his " royal brother," bent smiling over 
 his hand, and waved his jewelled hat as the King's coach turned 
 homeward. 
 
 Charles rode on at a breakneck pace towards the coast, 
 eager to see the masts of Rutland's fleet, which assured him of 
 getting to England again after these months of miserable emo- 
 tion. A storm had been blowing. Perhaps the ships had been 
 beaten out of their course. The thought was horrible. 
 
 But presently Buckingham perceived two horsemen riding at 
 a gallop towards them. They were Englishmen. They were 
 friends ! Sir John Finnet, their old playmate and fellow-jester, 
 was one of them, and the other Sir Thomas Somerset, who had 
 been riding all night to greet them. The news given by Sir 
 John, that the Earl of Rutland was at Santander with the fleet, 
 made Prince Charles, according to his own words, look upon 
 him " as one that had the face of an angel." 
 
 The bells of Santander were ringing, guns were firing salutes, 
 and the people were en fete, as the Prince and his companions 
 rode towards the port. But Charles, with a grave, white face, 
 paid no heed to the demonstration ; the English flag was 
 waving over an English fleet, and the Prince of Wales was eager 
 to shake the dust of Spain from his shoes. Though the gale 
 was still blowing fiercely over the coast and it was late in the 
 afternoon, he put off at once with Buckingham to the Earl of 
 Rutland's ship, " The Prince." As a hollow mockery, there was 
 a magnificent state-cabin, all sumptuous in its furniture, for the 
 Infanta. Charles, perhaps, laughed bitterly, as he flung himself 
 down in it, having no fair bride with him. But both to him and 
 to Buckingham there was joy in the thought of seeing England 
 soon, and to the Duke it was good to clasp the hand of Rutland, 
 his father-in-law, and, drawing him aside, put eager questions to 
 him about Kate and little Moll, and all the news of home. 
 
 They went on shore that night to accept the ovations of the 
 people of Santander, who were bent on making the most of this 
 historic occasion. But the night nearly ended in tragedy, for 
 
192 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 the Prince's barge on going back could not make headway 
 against the heavy waves, and was nearly swept to sea. Sir 
 Sackville Trevor, however, on "The Defiance," aware of the 
 danger, threw out ropes attached to buoys, with lanterns, and 
 one of these being seized by the rowers, the Prince was drawn 
 safely on board, after great and imminent peril. For a week 
 they were kept in port by the storm, and between the Spanish 
 people and the English there was a continual exchange of 
 courtesies. 
 
 But with the Prince, as soon as he was under his own 
 flag, it seemed as if all thoughts of the marriage to which he 
 was pledged were abandoned for ever. Doubtless, in telling 
 the tale of these last months to his friends, he found it in- 
 creasingly difficult to retain his self-esteem, and all that had 
 happened, now viewed as it were from a distance, was hateful to 
 his pride. Before the English fleet hoisted sail for home, Ned 
 Clarke, Buckingham's confidential servant, was on his way back 
 to Madrid with a letter for the Earl of Bristol which would 
 give our ambassador a dreadful shock. It was an order to 
 withhold the proxy authorizing the marriage until Charles had 
 received satisfaction that a rumour about the Infanta's wish to 
 enter a convent had been disproved. It was an obvious excuse 
 for delaying the pledges which had been so solemnly made, 
 and to Bristol, left behind as the representative of Charles and 
 the English nation, it was not only infinitely embarrassing, but 
 a confession of dishonour, which, if he obeyed his Prince, he 
 must share with him. 
 
 It was on October 5th, 1623, that the English fleet arrived 
 at Portsmouth, and as the dawn rose the following day Charles 
 and Buckingham, with their attendants, rode through London to 
 York House. It was good to be home. It was good when 
 Buckingham clasped in his arms his faithful wife, who had wept 
 long in sorrow for her lord's absence, and now wept in joy for 
 his home-coming. It was good when the news spread through 
 the town on wings, and all London gave itself up to frantic 
 joy. The Prince had come ! Buckingham had brought him 
 back, and the Spanish child had been left behind ! The hand- 
 some Duke had scorned the old enemies of Spain, and had 
 carried the Heir-apparent out of their clutches. All was well 
 again, and even a Puritan might throw his cap into the air this 
 
IN OLD MADRID 193 
 
 day, shouting " No Popery ! " and " Long live Prince Charlie ! " 
 and " God bless the Duke of Buckingham ! " The bells pealed 
 out, with wild music clashing over London, and when the Prince 
 came out in a coach with Buckingham to drive to Royston, 
 where the King was, the crush of people was so great in the 
 Strand that they blocked the progress of these two young 
 prodigals. A great roar of "Long live the Prince of Wales," 
 came a thousand times from ten thousand throats, and when at 
 last the Royal coach had passed from them sober citizens had a 
 kind of madness, and did things in the joy of this return which 
 must have seemed strange and dreamlike afterwards. At the 
 debtors' prison hands thrust between the bars for bread were filled 
 with gold, so that these poor wretches could purchase their liberty, 
 and a crowd of felons on their way to the gibbets at Tyburn 
 were reprieved with the very nooses round their necks, and 
 found themselves amazed with life. Merchant princes of Cheap- 
 side gave banquets in the street, and invited all who passed to 
 eat and drink. Not a window but had a candle lighting it in 
 the darkness, hardly a street where a crowd did not dance 
 round a great bonfire, whose flames gave a red glare to the sky. 
 There were so many of these fires that London blazed with 
 them, and from the heights beyond it seemed as if the great 
 city itself were burning, as, alas ! it burnt in the reign of this 
 Prince's son. And at Royston, where Charles and Buckingham 
 arrived, while London was thus given up to jubilation such as 
 even London had seldom known in its long history, a poor old 
 King, who had grown weary with long waiting, and had been 
 distracted with many troubles and grave anxieties, stood on the 
 staircase, and coming down to meet his Babie Charles and 
 Dogge Steenie, threw his arms about their necks and wept like 
 a child. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 
 
 HACKET, in his Life of the Lord Keeper Williams, 
 describes in a vivid way the scene when the King's two 
 " sweete boyes " gave the first account of their journey to their 
 old " dad." For a long time they remained with him in an 
 inner chamber, while in the ante-room the courtiers, excited by 
 the return of the Prince and Favourite, listened eagerly in the 
 hope of catching stray words by which they might learn or 
 guess the truth about the Spanish match. Gusts of laughter 
 reached their ears, and the loud voice of Buckingham talking 
 eagerly, and the Prince's voice speaking passionately. Then 
 the King came out, leaning on the arm of his son, and with a 
 hand on his Favourite's shoulder. He seemed in good spirits, 
 and filled with a melting joy at the home-coming of the two 
 men he loved best in the world. Then before the courtiers he 
 spoke of the broken promises of the Spaniards, and seemed to 
 make it clear that the Spanish match was at an end because 
 the restitution of the Palatinate to his daughter's husband was 
 not agreed to by the Spanish King and Council. 
 
 "I do not like to marry my son with a portion of my 
 daughter's tears," he said. 
 
 In the days that followed, Buckingham, and the Prince 
 under Buckingham's influence, practically dictated the King's 
 despatches to Lord Bristol, who still remained an Ambassador 
 to Spain, in one of the most difficult situations ever held by a 
 British ambassador. A man of strict honour, he believed him- 
 self to be bound absolutely by the promises of his Prince, among 
 which was the definite pledge that within ten days of the arrival 
 of the Papal dispensation the Prince's " proxy " for the marriage 
 should be delivered. Yet in the letters he now received from 
 
 194 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 195 
 
 England, the King, and the Prince himself, with peremptory 
 commands, ordered him to postpone the marriage until the 
 Spaniards gave a definite assurance of restoring Frederic to his 
 German inheritance. It was an impossible demand. Bristol 
 knew well that nothing would induce Philip of Spain to take up 
 arms against the House of Austria, and he believed not less 
 surely that to postpone the marriage in order to enter into 
 fruitless negotiations on such a vast subject as the balance of 
 power in Europe, would be regarded by Philip as an insult to 
 himself, and as a breach of honour on the part of England. 
 
 Lord Bristol, who had many friends at home, must have 
 heard of wilder things on foot in England. The Prince of 
 Wales was using passionate words about leading an English 
 army to Madrid. Buckingham, to put himself right with the 
 King and the people, was giving narratives of his adventures, in 
 which he accused the Spaniards of black treachery and broken 
 pledges. Before the Privy Council Buckingham had given such 
 a narrative, full of that vivid colour and dark shading which was 
 characteristic of his eloquence. He was now the most popular 
 man in England, and with the Prince quick to second every 
 statement he made, the most powerful. Bristol, away in Spain, 
 was powerless against the influence of such a personality. His 
 letters were but tame and unconvincing things when Buckingham 
 was at the King's side to interpret them and comment on them. 
 Yet Bristol did not hesitate to write plainly and boldly. 
 Courteously, but without any flattering phrases, he rebuked both 
 the King and the Prince for being careless of their honour. He 
 reminded Charles of his promise about the proxy, and he made 
 it clear that if he broke that pledge the friendship with Spain, 
 which was the best guarantee of European peace, and the only 
 hope for the exiled Elector, would be at an end. 
 
 To Buckingham and the Prince, this argument had no 
 weight. They no longer wanted friendship with Spain, but war. 
 James, who did not want war, blinked plain facts, and believed 
 that a postponement of the marriage might lead to a settlement 
 of the trouble in the Palatinate, and need cause no breach with 
 Spain. Played upon by his two impetuous young men, he was 
 angry with Bristol for what he thought was his obstinate and 
 one-sided view of things. He was made to believe that his 
 ambassador was more ready to serve the interests of Spain than 
 
196 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 those of England. So Bristol was ordered once again to 
 announce the postponement of the marriage. This time he 
 obeyed, and the result was exactly as he thought. Philip was 
 deeply mortified. His sister, the Infanta, who had been styled 
 " the Princess of England," was shamed before the people. The 
 Royal lover who had wooed her so ardently had jilted her 
 without excuse. There must be no more of this folly. The 
 Princess packed away her English lesson books, and Philip gave 
 Lord Bristol to understand that the match was at an end. Poor 
 Digby found that all his years of diplomacy had ended in 
 failure, and in December, 1623, he was recalled to England. 
 Philip and Olivares, who had the sincerest friendship for him, 
 and believed that Buckingham was worse than the devil, imagined 
 that his recall was a sentence of death. They offered him a 
 Spanish dukedom, but Bristol rejected this offer with proud 
 scorn as an insult to his honour. However friendly he had 
 been to Spain, he had acted always in the interest of his King 
 and country, and he would return with the knowledge that he 
 had done his duty with unswerving zeal. 
 
 In our admiration for Bristol's character we need not blindly 
 believe that his policy had been wise throughout. Gardinen 
 who makes a hero of him, defends every line of his policy with 
 enthusiasm, yet Buckingham, who was no statesman, but swayed 
 impetuously by personal pique and the passing mood, was acting 
 more in accordance with the spirit of the nation in breaking 
 with the Spanish alliance. Highly as he coloured his narrative, 
 and carefully as he kept out the facts of his personal quarrels at 
 Madrid, he did not lie when he accused the Spanish council of 
 double dealing and prevarication. In the early days at Madrid 
 he had jumped quickly to the truth that the Prince's journey 
 was futile, and that no good would come to England by in- 
 terminable discussions of impossible demands. And if Philip 
 and his councillors were now flouted, it was a just punishment 
 for their protracted and disingenuous diplomacy when the Prince 
 was among them. True, Charles had made promises at the 
 eleventh hour, long after Buckingham had urged him to have 
 done with the business and go home, but in Madrid he was 
 almost a prisoner, and had made such pledges owing to the 
 pressure of an uncomfortable position. Digby, in standing so 
 much upon punctilio, forgot how often the Spaniards had used 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 197 
 
 the advantage of the Prince's presence to persuade him into 
 conditions utterly against the conscience of his nation, and 
 having gained one concession, had again and again altered the 
 terms of the original marriage treaty. Lord Bristol's honour 
 and patriotism are beyond question, but it can hardly be denied 
 that after the Prince's return he saw things too much from the 
 Spanish point of view, and did not allow sufficiently for the 
 just annoyance of Charles and the English people. 
 
 Neither Buckingham nor the Prince was without anxiety 
 about Bristol's return, though they had used their influence to 
 have him recalled. Buckingham was more afraid of that honest, 
 plain-spoken, and spotless man of honour than of any other man 
 alive. Doubtless, in telling the King many things about the 
 happenings at the Spanish Court, Buckingham had kept back 
 many others, and it did not suit the present purpose of either 
 Charles or himself to have Bristol closeted with the King, giving 
 chapter and verse for all that had taken place in Madrid. The 
 King, after his first outburst of indignation against Spain, 
 shuddered at the idea of an open conflict. He called out pitifully 
 that he should not be asked to plunge into war in his old age. 
 With Bristol at his elbow, he would be more convinced in his 
 desire to reopen negotiations with Philip IV., and Buckingham's 
 foreign policy would find a formidable opponent. So at all 
 hazards Charles and George determined to keep Bristol away 
 from the Court. They urged the King to send him to the 
 Tower, but James, knowing in his heart that Bristol was innocent 
 of even the shadow of treason, refused. He yielded, however, 
 to the pressure of his two boys, so far as to order Bristol to 
 confine himself to his house at Sherborne. The two adventurers 
 from Spain felt that at that distance Lord Bristol was not so 
 dangerous. Before leaving Spain our ambassador had written 
 a letter to the Favourite, in which he pleaded for friendship in 
 the interests of the nation. " The present estate of the King's 
 affairs," he said, " requireth the concurrency of all his servants, 
 and the co-operation of all his ministers, which maketh me 
 desirous to make your Grace this tender of my service ; that if 
 there have happened any errors or misunderstandings your 
 Grace would for that regard pass them over, and for anything 
 that may personally concern my particular, I shall labour to 
 give you that satisfaction as may deserve your friendship. And 
 
198 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 if that shall not serve the turn I shall not be found unarmed 
 with patience against anything that can happen to me." 
 
 That was a generous offer of alliance, but, when upon his 
 return home he found that Buckingham preferred to be his 
 enemy, he did not stoop to the flattery by which a greater man 
 than he — Francis Bacon— had bought the friendship of the 
 Favourite. He demanded a fair trial if he was under any accusa- 
 tion of misconduct, and to the interrogatories bearing on his past 
 diplomacy, sent to him by Royal Commissioners, he answered 
 with plain and straightforward details, which satisfied his 
 examiners. The King was ready to receive him, but Bucking- 
 ham would not permit the interview. He offered a bribe to a 
 man who was one of the very few in England above such 
 temptations. He dared to offer Lord Bristol to stop all further 
 proceedings against him if he resigned his office as Vice- 
 Chamberlain and kept to his manor-house at Sherborne. 
 Bristol answered with a candour and courage that must have 
 given a twinge of shame to Buckingham. He demanded to be 
 cleared of all questions touching his honour. " For," he said, 
 "in matter of my fidelity and loyalty towards his Majesty, the 
 Prince and my country, I hope I shall never see that come into 
 compromise, but shall rather lose my life and fortunes than 
 admit the least stain to remain on me or mine in that kind." 
 
 So he remained exiled from Court, and Buckingham stood 
 between him and the King, who would have given him greater 
 justice. It is not to the credit of Buckingham that he allowed 
 this great and good man to suffer for honest opinions honestly 
 expressed. But Gardiner, who is always just in his verdict upon 
 those whom he most condemns, finds extenuating circumstances 
 for the Favourite's conduct. " To do Buckingham justice," he 
 says, "it was not mere personal enmity by which he was 
 actuated. If Bristol was to be kept at a distance, it was that 
 James, and England through James, might be kept from fall- 
 ing back into the evil Spanish alliance. Even when Buckingham 
 was engaged in an apparently personal quarrel, he had often 
 great public ends in view. The interests of his country were so 
 completely bound up in his mind with his own preferences and 
 jealousies, that he came to think himself and England as 
 inextricably combined." 
 
 With the King feeble now in mind and body, and Charles, 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 199 
 
 after the Spanish misadventure, believing his friend to be 
 endowed with the highest wisdom, Buckingham was practically 
 the sovereign lord of England and dictated its policy. He had 
 formed a clear conception of his line of action. He would get 
 the King to call a Parliament, and would appeal to the passions 
 and the patriotism of the Lords and Commons. With the 
 people behind him, he would formally break the treaties with 
 Spain, and raise an English army and navy to co-operate with 
 the German Protestants against the powers of Spain and 
 Austria. But he would also seek another ally. France was 
 jealous of the might of Spain, and would, he thought, in her own 
 political interests, lend a force to thrust back the Spanish armies 
 from Central Europe. There was reason to believe also that 
 Prince Charles, having lost a bride in Spain, might find a wife in 
 France. More than one messenger had come from Paris with 
 the hint that the Princess Henrietta, the sister of the French 
 King, could be had for the asking. One of these match-makers 
 was an English friar named Grey, who visited Buckingham in 
 Madrid, and boasting of his influence with Marie de Medicis, 
 offered to persuade her to give her daughter to the Prince. 
 Going back to Paris, he actually broached this question to the 
 Queen-Mother, and then came to Buckingham in London with 
 the news that she was willing to forward the match. It is 
 difficult to know how much truth there was in his story, for 
 when it got bruited about both Marie de Medicis and Buckingham 
 repudiated every word of it. 
 
 But the idea had taken firm possession of Buckingham's 
 impetuous brain, and in the new year of 1624 he obtained the 
 King's consent to send Henry Rich, Viscount Kensington, to 
 Paris upon a confidential mission to arrange the terms of a 
 marriage treaty, or at least to feel the way to such an amiable 
 alliance. In the mean time Buckingham proceeded with the 
 other part of his plan, to obtain the confidence of the people 
 through their representatives in Parliament, and to obtain a 
 subsidy for the raising of a new army. But before he could 
 achieve this success an episode happened which seemed likely 
 at first to thwart his whole policy, owing to the vacillating 
 character of the King, and the personal hostility of some great 
 lords towards himself. The Spanish representatives in England, 
 Iniosa and Coloma, gave their solemn assurance to James that 
 
200 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 the Spanish troops would before long withdraw from the 
 Palatinate, and that the territory they had occupied would be 
 handed over to him as an arbitrator. The story was of course 
 nothing but a diplomatic fiction, but to Buckingham's intense 
 disgust James was prepared to consider it seriously, and com- 
 manded a body of Privy Councillors, who some years before 
 had been appointed as Commissioners of Spanish affairs, to 
 give their opinion as to whether or not there should be peace or 
 war between England and Spain. Only three voted for war, 
 Buckingham himself, who was a member of the Commission, 
 Hay, Earl of Carlisle, and Secretary Conway, the most sub- 
 servient flatterer of all that the Favourite was pleased to do. The 
 other nine, including the Earl of Pembroke, who at this time 
 was jealous of Buckingham's predominant influence in the 
 State, Cranfield, now Earl of Middlesex, who had owed his rise 
 to the Favourite, and had served him faithfully, though not with 
 flattery, the Lord Keeper Williams, Lord Arundel, Secretary 
 Calvert, Lord Chichester, the Marquis of Hamilton, and the 
 Duke of Lennox, protested that they could come to no decision 
 without examining the whole of the despatches relating to the 
 marriage. This demand angered both the Prince and Bucking- 
 ham as much as it frightened them. There were things in 
 those confidential despatches which were best left buried. 
 Buckingham lost his temper, and uttered hot and burning 
 words. Hacket, in his Life of Williams, describes him " as a 
 hen that hath lost her brood, and clucks up and down when 
 she hath none to follow her." He was determined to balk 
 the Privy Council's zeal for enquiry, and, hurrying down to 
 Royston, used those powers of persuasion which the King could 
 never resist. Charles accompanied him, but leaving his friend 
 on guard, as it were, at the King's door, hurried back to tell the 
 Council that James would not permit the examination of his 
 secret despatches, and that as far as he, Charles, was con- 
 cerned, he would never agree to reopen the question of 
 marriage with the Infanta. The Privy Councillors, as a body, 
 had no desire to go against his wish. They were almost 
 unanimous in agreeing that the marriage treaty should be 
 broken, and they agreed that if the Prince had no further liking 
 for the lady that settled the matter. There was only one voice 
 raised against this verdict, and that belonged to Cranfield, Earl 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 201 
 
 of Middlesex. Whether the Prince, he said, wished to marry 
 the Princess or not, it was his duty to do so for reasons of 
 State and the good that would redound to Christendom. " I 
 suppose," he went on, "that the Prince ought to submit his 
 distaste therein to the general good and honour of the kingdom." 
 
 Those rash words cost Middlesex his place and fortune. 
 The Prince turned angrily upon hjm and taunted him with his 
 origin as a London apprentice, and with his merchant's training. 
 
 " Judge if you will," he said, " of your merchandise, for you 
 are no arbiter in points of honour." 
 
 Buckingham himself was not the man to forgive words 
 which directly opposed his own opinions in a matter of supreme 
 importance. Before long Lionel Cranfield found himself accused 
 of corruption in his office as Lord Treasurer, an office that had 
 been fatal to many predecessors. Of all men the Earl of 
 Middlesex deserved his fate less. True he had amassed a large 
 private fortune, and according to the custom of his time had got 
 much fat "commission," as it would now be called, from the 
 State contracts under his control. But he had been zealous in 
 his duties, and was a man with a genius for economy (while 
 making a nest-egg for himself) in a Government where for many 
 years only prodigals had been in power. King James, shirking 
 an open breach with Spain, was not inclined to see treason in 
 Cranfield's speech at the Council's Board, and with a fore- 
 sight denied to his Favourite, saw the danger of this attack upon 
 a great officer of State. " You are a fool," he said, with a rare 
 outburst of candour to Buckingham ; " you are making a rod 
 with which you will be scourged yourself." And to his son he 
 said, with gloomy prophecy, " You will live to have your bellyful 
 of impeachments." * 
 
 Neither the Prince nor Buckingham gave heed to the King's 
 words, and the Lord Treasurer, examined by a Grand Jury of 
 the Commons, was, after a stubborn defence, condemned to lose 
 his office, to be imprisoned in the Tower during the King's 
 pleasure, and to be fined ^50,000. 
 
 The downfall of the merchant statesman was some time after 
 the opening of the Parliament summoned by the King, against 
 his own wishes, but under the pressure of his Favourite, whose 
 will was now imperious even towards his sovereign lord and 
 
 * Clarendon. 
 
202 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 master. It was opened in state on February 19, 1623, and 
 James made a speech from the throne which explained the new 
 foreign policy of his Government, and revealed how completely 
 he had abdicated in favour of His Grace of Buckingham. He 
 desired, he said, to impart to his Lords and Gentlemen a secret, 
 and matter of great importance. " Give me your free and faithful 
 counsels in the matter I propose, of which you have often 
 heard, the match of my son, wherein as you may know I have 
 spent much time with great cost, in long Treaties, desiring 
 always therein (and not without reason hoping to have effected 
 my desires) the advancement of my State and Children, and 
 the general Peace of Christendom, wherein I have always 
 constantly laboured, depending upon fair hopes and promises. 
 At the earnest instance of my Son I was contented (although 
 it was of an extraordinary nature) to send him to prosecute 
 his desires in Spain, and for his more safety sent Buckingham 
 (in whom I have ever reposed most trust of my person) with 
 him, with this command, Continually to be present with him, and 
 never to leave him, till he had returned again safely unto me." 
 
 After expressing with many curious and characteristic 
 metaphors his disappointment at the failure of the mission, 
 James referred his Parliament to a more detailed narrative of 
 the treaties which would be given to him by Charles, Bucking- 
 ham, and the Secretary of State. 
 
 But neither Charles nor the Secretary shared in the promised 
 narrative. It was the hour of Buckingham's great part in the 
 drama of English history, and he was determined to be actor and 
 manager, and to take the centre of the stage in the full light of 
 the public eye. It was a glorious opportunity to stand forth 
 and let the splendour of his presence, the supremacy of his 
 position, be recognized by the nation over whom he was then 
 king in all but name. As a king, therefore, he received the 
 Lords and Commons, not in the Painted Chamber of the Upper 
 House, but in the great hall where formerly they had been 
 received by the actual sovereign. Buckingham was a daring 
 man ! No wonder that proud lords like Pembroke murmured at 
 this extraordinary position of the Favourite, by which they felt 
 themselves humiliated. 
 
 So in the great hall of the palace he stood magnificent, his 
 head held high, his handsome face lighted up by the excitement 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 203 
 
 and pride of this hour upon the stage, surrounded at a little 
 distance, as a monarch stands, by a great press of peers in their 
 robes, with the King and the Prince behind him. Perhaps some 
 of the Lords spiritual and temporal had expected a defence 
 from him, but the sight of him there, clothed in his Ducal dignity, 
 so proud, so arrogant in his graciousness, told a different tale, 
 and when he spoke it was not a defence of his actions, but a 
 defiance. It was as direct a challenge to Spain as though he 
 had plucked off his jewelled glove and flung it before the ambas- 
 sadors of the Spanish King. 
 
 It was really a masterly piece of oratory, studiously blunt 
 and plain-spoken, as though coming from the lips of a man who 
 desired neither to hide nor to gloss over any of the facts, but to 
 tell all in an honest, simple fashion, so that his peers might make 
 their own decision upon the Spanish treaties. But its simplicity was 
 like that of Mark Anthony's oration over the body of Caesar, and 
 every sentence was an indictment of Spain and a subtle demon- 
 stration of the speaker's own sagacity and honourable dealings. 
 He divided his narrative into six parts. First, the motive of 
 the Prince's journey to Spain. This was the desire of the King 
 and Prince Charles to end the shifty negotiations of the Spanish 
 Court, and to exact a definite pledge for the restitution of the 
 Palatinate. Then, second, the visit of the Prince and the Marquis 
 to Madrid. Buckingham described, with remarkable astuteness 
 and a covert sense of humour, the high-sounding phrases and 
 insincere courtesies with which Olivares, the Spanish Prime 
 Minister, received his visitors, the promises given and then 
 broken, the zigzag course of their diplomacy, the continual 
 importunities of the Court and the ecclesiastics to bring the 
 Prince over to the Catholic faith, the unswerving hostility of the 
 Junta of Divines to the proposed marriage, when the Prince's 
 steadfastness to the English Church was made clear to them. 
 
 In the third part of his narrative, Buckingham described the 
 shiftiness of Olivares over the question of the Elector Palatine, 
 and his final statement when hard pressed that the King of 
 Spain must never fight against the Emperor, for they would not 
 employ their forces against the House of Austria. Then, said 
 Buckingham, " his Highness protested to the Count : ' Look to 
 it, sir, for if you hold yourself to that there is an end of all ; for 
 without this you may not rely upon either marriage or friendship.' 
 
204 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 By this time the Prince is grown cheap and vulgar in the Court 
 of Spain, so that they will scarce bestow a word upon him, and 
 the Conde came very seldom to see him." Then, the Duke 
 of Buckingham discovering all the underlying treachery of the 
 previous negotiations, the Prince decided to return home. 
 
 In the fourth and fifth parts of his narrative, Buckingham 
 described the behaviour of Lord Bristol with regard to the deli- 
 very of the marriage proxy, and accused him bluntly of thwarting 
 the wishes of his King and Prince, and of allowing himself to be 
 influenced by the Spanish Court. Finally, Buckingham, summing 
 up these long-drawn negotiations, put the question to the Lords 
 whether the King should still rely upon the Spanish treaties, 
 or, setting them aside, " trust in his own strength and stand upon 
 his own feet." * 
 
 To do Buckingham justice, it must be admitted, even by his 
 enemies, that there was not a word of untruth in his long story. 
 Looking at the Spanish journey now, in the clear light of 
 history, we see the folly of the two adventurers, the weakness of 
 the Prince which led him to make rash promises, broken as soon 
 as he set foot on English soil again, and the petulant temper of 
 Buckingham himself, which added personal quarrels to diplo- 
 matic conflicts. All this was omitted, naturally, from his 
 explanation, but his story was true in substance and detail, and 
 was a perfectly fair indictment of the Spanish Court from the 
 passionate point of view of a man who had played a chief part in 
 the adventure. Prince Charles, who stood by his side, supported 
 every statement of his friend, and among the Lords who 
 listened to Buckingham's flowing speech, there was not one 
 who doubted its sincerity, or disagreed with its inevitable con- 
 clusions. Even Pembroke, who had been openly hostile to the 
 Favourite, was drawn over to his side, and gave his vote with 
 the other peers for the definite abandonment of the Spanish 
 treaty. 
 
 Buckingham had gained his greatest triumph, and received 
 the applause and homage of the English nation, as the champion 
 of the old traditions of patriotism. Iniosa, the Spanish am- 
 bassador, furious at the charges brought against the King's 
 Court, violently demanded satisfaction for Buckingham's 
 
 * Buckingham's narrative is fully summarized in Rushworth's contemporary 
 " Historical Collections." 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 205 
 
 insulting language against his Sovereign Lord and Master, and 
 vowed that the Favourite's head would be too small a penalty 
 for such accusations against the honour of his country. But by 
 a vote of both Houses of Parliament the Duke's " Relation," as 
 it was called, was justified, and a Committee of the whole House 
 signified to the King that " the Duke may be encouraged to 
 proceed in his faithful service to the State." The Commons 
 then proceeded to offer their subsidies to the King for the pro- 
 secution of a war for the relief of the German Protestants of the 
 Palatinate, on condition that the Spanish treaties should be 
 annulled. This offer was accepted by James, who, in one of his 
 last speeches to Parliament, vowed that he would regain the 
 Palatinate, even though, in his old age, he should have to lead 
 an army in person against the enemies of his son-in-law. Not 
 a penny piece voted by his faithful Commons should go to 
 anything but this war, and if needs be he would sell his own 
 jewels. 
 
 "Assure yourselves," said the poor old man, who had no 
 stomach for this business, but spoke as the mouthpiece of his 
 son and Buckingham, " my delay hitherto was upon hope to 
 have gotten it without a war. I held it by a hair, hoping to 
 have gotten it by a Treaty, but since I see no certainty that 
 way, I hope that God, who hath put it into your hearts so to 
 advise me, and into my heart to follow your advice, will so bless 
 it, that I shall clear my reputation from obloquie, and in despite 
 of the Devil and all his instruments show that I never had but 
 an honest heart." 
 
 It was not without continual persuasion, and, sometimes, 
 angry argument, that the Prince and Steenie had brought James 
 to such decisive words. These two young men were impatient 
 of the old King's doubts and hesitations, his hanging back from 
 an open breach with Spain, his personal interventions to thwart 
 their war policy. To tell the truth, Charles and his friend were 
 impatient of the King altogether, though he had loved them both 
 so fondly, and the Prince was eager to play the rdle of the King 
 before the crown was on his head. They ignored him as much 
 as they could, and when they could not do without him used 
 him purely as the figure-head of their own policy. Buckingham 
 bullied the old man, who had been to him the kindest of 
 masters, the most generous of kings. When James was weakly 
 
206 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 endeavouring to find a compromise, thrusting back with his 
 failing hands the dreadful vision of a Spanish war, Buckingham 
 wrote letters in which the insolence is hardly veiled, urging him 
 " to resolve once constantly to run one way." "For," he said in 
 one such letter, " so long as you waver between the Spaniards 
 and your subjects, to make your advantage of both, you are 
 sure to do it with neither." 
 
 When, therefore, James was put up by the Prince and 
 Steenie, and, like a Punch thwacking a stick with the concealed 
 hands of the showman down below, flung out a bold challenge 
 to the Spanish-Austrian troops in the Palatinate, Buckingham 
 had gained the Royal and national sanction necessary for the 
 bold foreign policy which from this time involved him in 
 continual care. 
 
 The world, it seemed, was at his feet, and the power of a 
 great nation was in his hands. A war fever took possession of 
 the English people, and they made bonfires to toast Spanish 
 effigies, and to carry Buckingham's glory in tongues of fire to 
 the sky. Parliament made itself the servant of his policy. A 
 host of English gentlemen, the flower of England's youth and 
 gallantry, offered their swords to win victories for him on 
 German soil. The Prince, who would soon be King (for James 
 was ailing, and old age was creeping into 6 his heart and bones), 
 was eager to support everything suggested by the magnificent 
 Duke, who was, so Charles thought, the greatest statesman of 
 his age and a masterly diplomatist. To this great height had 
 George Villiers come. 
 
 Buckingham now turned his thoughts to France, for, as we 
 have seen, the hope of a French alliance was the chief feature of 
 his programme for the recovery of the Palatinate. With a 
 French army co-operating with English and German allies, 
 Austria and Spain would soon be flogged out of the country, 
 and , Buckingham would be an even greater man. It was a 
 simple scheme on the face of it, with many plausible arguments 
 in its favour, but Buckingham left Richelieu out of his reckoning, 
 and forgot the lesson of the Spanish treaty, when Charles was 
 bargaining for a Catholic wife. At the beginning, however, of 
 these diplomatic negotiations with France everything seemed to 
 promise a brilliant success. The young and handsome Henry 
 Rich, newly made Earl of Holland, had a gay and amiable time, 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 207 
 
 in Paris, and his letters to the Prince and Buckingham were 
 pleasing to both of them. He quickly won his way into the 
 heart of the Queen-Mother, and all the ladies of the French 
 Court loved him for his gallantry. He was indeed an admirable 
 ambassador of Love, and his reports upon the Princess Henrietta 
 Maria did credit, at least, to his literary style and to his 
 intimate acquaintance with the Blind Boy. To Buckingham he 
 described the charms of the French Princess, then a maid of 
 fifteen years. " My Lord," he wrote, " she is|a lovely sweet young 
 creature. Her growth is not great yet, but her shape is perfect." 
 The ladies of the Court, knowing his mission, whispered to him 
 slyly on his arrival that she had seldom put on a more cheerful 
 countenance than that night. " There were some," he said, " that 
 told me I might guess the cause of it" This gallant ambassa- 
 dor did not bother his head with such trivial matters as the 
 political schemes of France. He was quite sure that if the 
 marriage took place between Charles and Henrietta, the French 
 army would act with the English in the Palatinate. When 
 Charles suggested that a political alliance should precede a 
 marriage treaty, the Earl of Holland waived the objection on one 
 side by an assurance that all things would come right, especially 
 as the piquante little Princess was " for beauty and goodness an 
 angel." He told a pretty tale how he lent her a miniature of 
 the Prince which hung about his neck, and " she opened it with 
 such haste as showed a true picture of her passion, blushing in 
 the instant of her own guiltiness." * These messages flattered 
 the vanity of Prince Charles, and awakened, perhaps, the romantic 
 instincts of his young manhood, which had been so cruelly 
 nipped by the misadventure in Spain. But both the Prince 
 and Buckingham were playing for higher stakes than a pretty 
 woman, and they recognized that Henry Rich was not the man 
 to carry through a treaty with France, however admirable he 
 was in an embassy of the heart. It was decided, therefore, to 
 send out James Hay, Earl of Carlisle, who in addition to being 
 a gallant fellow, and very splendid in his presence and behaviour, 
 was also, under his fine foppishness, a shrewd Scot and cautious 
 diplomat. Hay went, therefore, a second time to the French 
 capital — it will be remembered that he had ridden with silver 
 horseshoes through the streets of Paris a few years before — 
 
 * The Cabala. 
 
208 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 and with the Earl of Holland as his colleague took the lead in 
 the official negotiations with Louis and his minister, the great 
 Richelieu. Edward Herbert Cherbury, our ambassador in France, 
 whose chivalrous but choleric temper has been described in earlier 
 pages of this book, had fallen into disfavour by his candid words 
 of warning to the Prince and Buckingham. With a close know- 
 ledge of the character of the French King and his all-powerful 
 minister, he knew that unless they were bound by most 
 formal pledges forced upon them by political necessity they 
 would never employ French soldiers against a Catholic Power 
 in the cause of Protestantism. True they were jealous of 
 Spanish intrusions into middle Europe, but they had no 
 sympathy with the Bohemians who had revolted against the 
 Austrian yoke, nor with the German Protestants of the Palatine. 
 For political reasons they were not averse to an alliance with 
 England, but Richelieu was determined to let England do all the 
 fighting. Diplomatist as he was, he was also a Cardinal of the 
 Catholic Church, and in a war which was essentially a religious 
 conflict, France, if she played any part, would be on the side 
 of her national faith. Herbert pointed out at least something of 
 this truth about the workings of Richelieu's subtle brain, and he 
 was not thanked for his candour. It led, indeed, to his recall, 
 for Buckingham, who had been his patron, was always most dis- 
 pleased when the truth did not tally with his personal desires. 
 
 But Hay, Earl of Carlisle, was not slow to perceive the 
 same elements of danger in his negotiations with the French 
 Government. They were not averse to the marriage, provided 
 the conditions were entirely satisfactory to themselves, but they 
 showed extreme caution in their discussions over the Palatinate, 
 and steadily, though courteously, postponed giving any definite 
 pledge on the subject. The situation was a most curious and 
 exact parallel of all that had happened over the Spanish 
 negotiations, and it was amazing that the Prince and Bucking- 
 ham, after their bitter experience with one treaty for a Catholic 
 wife, should have been so utterly blind that they could not see 
 the inevitable repetition of the difficulties and disappointments. 
 Richelieu certainly handled the business much more adroitly, 
 and far less offensively, than Olivares. He kept the English 
 ambassadors on the tenter-hooks of expectation that he would 
 carry out their schemes of a military alliance. But while he 
 
CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU 
 
 I'ORTRAIT BY I'HILIITE DE CHAMI'AIC.XE IN THE LOUVRE 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 209 
 
 thus hoodwinked them — the truth being that Buckingham 
 himself was easy to hoodwink, because he had staked his 
 future on nothing more substantial than false hopes — he laid 
 down the conditions of the marriage treaty upon precisely the 
 same lines as those demanded by Spain. And Buckingham, 
 who had destroyed the Spanish treaty amidst the applause of 
 the English nation, now used his influence with the Prince to 
 accept terms which had so recently been denounced as an 
 outrage upon the conscience of his country. 
 
 James, old as he was now, and racked with rheumatism so 
 that he was almost a cripple, had strength of mind enough to 
 refuse for a long time to bind himself to abolish the penal laws 
 against the Catholics, and to give them absolute liberty of 
 worship, but under the continual pressure of the man who was 
 still called his Favourite, though now his master, his protests 
 grew weaker with every argument. The Prince himself was 
 not inclined to agree with the French conditions, and more than 
 once or twice was so enraged with the demands of Richelieu 
 (who posed as being coerced into making severe conditions in 
 the treaty by the Pope and the Sacred College at Rome) that 
 he was on the point of throwing up the whole business in favour 
 of seeking a Protestant wife. But he was a partner in Bucking- 
 ham's foreign policy, and completely under the dominating 
 influence of the Duke, so that he also yielded step by step to 
 the French conditions, buoyed up, as Buckingham himself, by 
 the hope that a French army would co-operate with English 
 forces in Germany. Richelieu pandered to these hopes by 
 vague promises, and by ostentatious movements of French 
 troops. And thus dangling a bait under the noses of Prince 
 Charles and his adviser, he drew them on, further and still 
 further until he had them fast bound in the spider's web of his 
 diplomacy. At first a letter had been demanded from the 
 English King promising liberty of worship in his realm. Then 
 when that was conceded, a treaty with formal clauses must be 
 privately signed by the King, his son, and a Secretary of State 
 Then, later on, that must be submitted and sanctioned by the 
 Privy Council. Then James must show his sincerity by at once 
 stopping all cases instituted against English Catholics for the 
 exercise of their faith. Carlisle, still acting as ambassador in 
 Paris, was passionate with indignation against these stipulations, 
 
210 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 which he knew were in utter defiance of the strongest prejudices 
 of Parliament, and of the majority of the English people, and 
 he vainly implored the King and the Prince to be more chary 
 of their concessions to the French Ambassador in England. He 
 believed, and was bold enough to suggest, that Buckingham was 
 playing too much into the hands of France. 
 
 This, indeed, must be admitted. A new ambassador, Effiat 
 by name, had come from Paris to a place Ville-aux-Clercs, and 
 with this man Buckingham was so strangely intimate, that 
 Pembroke and other lords began to smell something like treason. 
 Buckingham avowed to Effiat that he had staked his reputation 
 upon the marriage treaty, and that its failure would be his ruin. 
 At this time he was very ill, with that mysterious illness from 
 which he seems to have suffered severely at different periods of 
 his life ; but his brain was unceasingly active to bring his great 
 scheme to a conclusion which he believed would result in the 
 accomplishment of all his hopes. With Effiat, therefore, making 
 promises to James which Richelieu had no intention of fulfilling, 
 and with his own powers of persuasion brought to bear upon 
 the King and Charles, Buckingham at last overcame all scruples, 
 and James put his signature to the letter and treaty by which 
 he solemnly undertook to grant to Henrietta Maria, to her 
 Catholic attendants, and to the English Catholics, a complete 
 liberty of worship, agreeing also that any children of the 
 marriage should be brought up in the Catholic faith of their 
 mother until ten years of age. 
 
 There was nothing disgraceful in these articles on the French 
 side, judged from the modern view of religious toleration. 
 Extreme Protestants have, of course, inveighed against the 
 treaty, as against the Spanish treaties, as the handiwork of the 
 Scarlet Woman, and the devilish machinations of the Roman 
 priesthood. That, of course, is senseless bigotry, and Cardinal 
 Richelieu was more worthy of his ecclesiastical office in safe- 
 guarding the faith of the French princess, and endeavouring to 
 secure by the marriage happiness and liberty for the Catholics 
 in England, than in many other actions of his remarkable career. 
 But the folly and fault of Buckingham and his Prince were of 
 a political and not of a religious character. In an age when 
 religious toleration was Unknown, or, if known, counted as a vice 
 and not as a virtue, they defied the passions and prejudices 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 211 
 
 of the nation and its Parliament, and not only defied them, but 
 betrayed them. 
 
 During the course of these negotiations with France Buck- 
 ingham was the victim of a plot which gave him great anxiety 
 at home. His supreme power in the nation was of ominous 
 import to Spain, and the Spanish ambassadors in this country 
 had now but one desire : to cause his ruin. It would not have 
 been surprising in those days if they had set assassins upon the 
 Favourite, to rid the world of him by one stab in the back. 
 But they endeavoured to kill his reputation with the King, and 
 by lies hardly less murderous than cold steel. The two ambas- 
 sadors Iniosa and Coloma had been reinforced by a priest 
 named Lafuente, who had arrived with secret instructions from 
 Philip's Court. His papers, however, had been stolen from him 
 near Amjens, where his coach had been held up by armed men 
 disguised with false beards. It was commonly believed that 
 these were servants of the Marquis of Hamilton, who were 
 acting as amateur highwaymen in the interests of Buckingham 
 and the English council. Be that as it may, and it is not 
 extremely improbable, though perhaps Richelieu knew more 
 about it, when Lafuente reached England he had no credentials, 
 and the loss of his papers had aggravated his bitterness against 
 Buckingham. In his first audience with the King he denounced 
 the Duke's insolence at the Spanish Court, and then joined 
 Iniosa and Coloma in a plot to destroy the King's faith in his 
 Favourite. Their greatest difficulty was to get the private ear 
 of James. Buckingham was watchful, and seldom gave them a 
 chance of being alone with the King. Seizing an opportunity, 
 however, while Iniosa engaged the Prince and Duke in con- 
 versation, Coloma thrust a paper into the King's hands, and 
 begged him to read it privately. When James opened it, he 
 found that it contained a request to give a secret audience to 
 Carondolet and their emissary from the Spanish Court, who 
 would act as an intermediary between the Spanish ambassadors 
 and the English King. James, who was in a nervous and 
 gloomy state of mind, owing to the impetuous war policy of his 
 Favourite, granted the audience, and Carondolet took the 
 opportunity of persuading him against the war, and suggesting, 
 in a dark manner, that His Majesty was virtually a prisoner in 
 the hands of an unscrupulous adventurer, who was using him as 
 
212 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 a tool for his private animosities. James admitted that Buck- 
 ingham had " he knew not how many devils in him " since the 
 Spanish journey, but demanded definite proofs of any guiltiness 
 on the part of Buckingham before he took action in the matter. 
 Such proofs were not forthcoming, and this first plot failed. 
 Buckingham was not ignorant of the intrigue, for it happened 
 that Carondolet was a man of loose morals, and he had a mis- 
 tress in London who was a paid spy of the Lord Keeper 
 Williams. To Williams she had taken the whole story of the 
 secret interview with the King, and the Lord Keeper, anxious 
 to regain Buckingham's favour, which he had temporarily lost by 
 opposition to the breaking of the Spanish treaties, hastened to 
 give an account of it to the Duke. He first went, however, to 
 the Prince. 
 
 " In my studies of divinity," he said, after explaining the 
 source of his information, " I have gleaned up this maxim, ' It is 
 lawful to make use of the sin of another.' Though the devil 
 make her a sinner, I may make good use of her sin." 
 
 " Yea," said Charles, with a contemptuous smile on his thin 
 lips. " Do you deal in such ware ? " 
 
 "In good faith," said Lord Privy Seal, "I never saw her 
 face." 
 
 Buckingham was not slow in scotching the snakes about him, 
 and a visit to the King at Theobald's dispelled the gloomy 
 suspicions of his old master. 
 
 But, failing in this first attempt, the Spaniard made a more 
 desperate venture to break Buckingham. In April of the year 
 1624, Lafuente obtained another interview with the King, and 
 after accusing the Duke of filthy conduct in Spain, charged him 
 with the treasonable revelation of State secrets to certain 
 members of Parliament. Iniosa, a few days later, poured subtle 
 poison into the King's ears, and directly accused Buckingham 
 of conspiring to dethrone the King in the event of his refusing 
 to make war on Spain. 
 
 James was horribly perturbed. The thought that Bucking- 
 ham, upon whom he had lavished his love for years, who had 
 been nearest to his heart among all others, should conspire 
 against him in his old age was torture and anguish to him. He 
 tried to thrust back the belief that even a word of the charge 
 could be true. But an accusation made so plainly and so 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 213 
 
 confidently could not be Ignored. The King knew Buckingham's 
 impetuous nature, how easily he was carried away by passion 
 and egotism ; and in those days treason set traps about the 
 feet of men, entangling even noble natures in devilish snares. 
 
 Poor old James took the wisest course, and instead of nurs- 
 ing secret suspicions that stung him like scorpions, he told 
 Buckingham what had been said against him. Immediately 
 Iniosa left him he drove to St. James's, on his way to Windsor ; 
 and as Charles and Buckingham came to greet him, he burst 
 into tears, and repeated the conversation which had just shat- 
 tered his peace of mind. The accusation, he said, was so formal 
 and definite that Buckingham must take means to clear himself. 
 
 The Duke was startled and deeply outraged by this attack 
 upon his honour and loyalty, and he too shed tears. Though 
 the King invited him to go on to Windsor in his company, he 
 refused to stay in the Royal presence until his innocence was 
 acknowledged. He would rather, he said, go straight to the 
 Tower and declare himself a prisoner. So Prince Charles 
 joined his father, and Buckingham went home to Wallingford 
 House. 
 
 Here the Lord Keeper Williams visited him. He found the 
 Duke lying on his couch, so overwhelmed with grief that he 
 could scarcely obtain an answer to his questions. He urged 
 Buckingham with great earnestness to go at once to the King 
 and not to suffer his enemies to still further poison His 
 Majesty's mind against him. 
 
 But James, quite wisely and justly, decided to have the 
 matter sifted to the bottom. Iniosa was required to put his 
 accusations into writing, and to state his proofs. The first was 
 easy to the Spaniard, whose hatred to Buckingham was intense, 
 but he was compelled to admit the charges were not such as 
 could be made to appear by legal and judicious proofs. 
 
 His statement was then laid before the Privy Council, but, 
 after carefully examining it, they reported to the King unani- 
 mously that they had never heard any traitorous expression 
 proceed from Buckingham's mouth, and that there was no truth 
 in the Spaniard's accusations. 
 
 To James it was a real source of joy that his " dogge Steenie " 
 was honourably acquitted of such charges, and his anger was 
 now turned upon the ambassadors, who were recalled to Spain. 
 
214 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 He wrote to Philip, demanding that they should be punished, 
 but afterwards, having submitted to two or three days' imprison- 
 ment, they were released and rewarded. " In the Court of 
 Spain," says Rushworth, " Buckingham's name was odious, and 
 the Prince's honour of little value, and the King's reputation at 
 low ebb." 
 
 Buckingham, now relieved of his grave anxiety at home, 
 pressed forward his own policy. But the ink was hardly dry 
 upon documents which passed between England and France 
 when he began to realize the utter insincerity of Richelieu with 
 regard to a military alliance. A rabble army of Englishmen — 
 the sweepings of the gaols, pressed men, and vagabond soldiers 
 of fortune — had been raised by means of the subsidies of Par- 
 liament, and commanded by English gentlemen with but little 
 knowledge of war. This force was to be under the generalship 
 of the Elector Palatine's most able general, Mansfeld, who now 
 arrived in England to consult with Buckingham and the English 
 Council as to the direction of the war. This soldier, Count 
 Ernst von Mansfeld, the illegitimate son of a German Prince 
 who had served with brilliant distinction with the Spanish 
 forces under Alva in the revolt of the Low Countries, was a 
 man of remarkable character. He had served as quite a 
 youth in the Austrian campaign in Hungary, but on account 
 of being disappointed over his father's inheritance, turned 
 over to the Protestant side, and became the bitterest enemy 
 of the Austrian and Spanish Houses. When the Bohemians 
 revolted against the Hapsburgs, and gave their crown to 
 Frederic, Elector Palatine, Mansfeld offered his sword to that 
 Prince, and in spite of many defeats, which resulted in the exile 
 of Frederic, carried on a guerilla war against the Catholic 
 armies. Then with extraordinary daring he cut his way 
 through the Spanish- Austrian forces to the United Netherlands, 
 and placing his sword at the disposal of the Dutch Republicans, 
 helped them to inflict severe punishment upon their Spanish 
 foes. 
 
 Such was the man who now came to England to take com- 
 mand of the army raised for the rescue of the Palatinate. A 
 swash-buckling soldier of fortune, the hero of his men, but 
 utterly unscrupulous, and a freebooter who supported his forces 
 by the plunder of both friends and foes, he seemed to Bucking- 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 215 
 
 ham the ideal leader of an avenging army. His presence in 
 England caused great excitement, and inflamed the war fever, 
 which, for a brief period only, took possession of the people. 
 
 Buckingham's plan was for Mansfeld to make his way 
 through France, joined there by a strong French force, and 
 strike straight at the heart of Germany, then garrisoned by 
 Spanish-Austrian troops. He as Lord Admiral would employ 
 his fleet for the transport of the army from Dover to Calais. 
 But it was now that he saw the hollowness of the faith he had 
 placed in French promises. Richelieu demurred strongly 
 against the proposed passage through France, and came down 
 from his high-sounding words as to a strong military alliance, to 
 a promise, still of a vague and indefinite character, of a detach- 
 ment of French cavalry. There was some excuse, perhaps, for 
 the objection to the passage of the English army through France. 
 On the way to Dover, on their own English soil, the forces 
 under Mansfeld had struck terror into the hearts of the country- 
 people by shameful excesses and freebooting. The English 
 officers, who belonged to some of the oldest and noblest families, 
 could not produce any form of discipline among such a rabble 
 mob of scoundrels, who got completely out of hand. At Dover, 
 and to the great joy of peaceful Kentish citizens, they at last got 
 on board the English fleet, which was as rotten as the character of 
 the troops who overcrowded them, and set sail for Calais. Here 
 they lay-to, waiting for permission to land and march through 
 the country, but Buckingham's negotiation in England was 
 fobbed off with every possible excuse by Richelieu and the 
 French King. After a disastrous delay, during which disease 
 broke out on board, Mansfeld would wait no longer, and gave 
 the order to sail for Zealand, where he believed his old masters, 
 of the Dutch Republic, would readily give him permission to 
 pass through their territory. But the reputation of his army 
 had preceded him, and the Dutch, who were themselves suffer- 
 ing from a hard season and a scarcity of food, would not suffer 
 the landing of a force which would be like a plague of locusts 
 along the track of their march. A terrible situation now faced 
 our unfortunate English troops. Penned up like rats in foul 
 ships, they were stricken with pestilence and famine, " so that," 
 says Rushworth, the contemporary chronicler, " they were thrown 
 into the sea by multitudes, insomuch that scarce a third part of 
 
216 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 the men were landed, the which after also mouldered away, and 
 the design came to nothing." 
 
 There were men in England, who moralised, not light- 
 heartedly, on the subject of these disasters. One of them, 
 John Chamberlain, in a letter to Sir Dudley Carleton, expresses 
 the bitterness of his feelings in gloomy words : " The time hath 
 been when so many English as have been sent into those parts, 
 within those six or eight months, would have done somewhat 
 and made the world) talk of them. But I know not how, we 
 that have been esteemed in that kind more than other nations, 
 do begin to grow by degrees, less than the least, when the 
 basest of people in matter of courage dare brave and trample 
 upon us. I have known the time when they durst not have 
 offered the least of these indignities we have lately swallowed 
 and endured." 
 
 To Buckingham the failure of the expedition was a tragic 
 disappointment ; to King James it was a death-blow. He had 
 been forced into the war utterly against his wish. Physically 
 timid, and intellectually opposed to bloodshed, he had en- 
 deavoured all his life to play the part of peacemaker in Europe, 
 with the unfortunate result of weakening the hands of his 
 ambassadors abroad, who could never enforce their words by 
 any hint of decisive action. France, Spain, and Austria laughed 
 in their Council Chambers at a nation which, in the reign of 
 Elizabeth, had inspired them with a wholesome fear. When, 
 therefore, James was at last coerced by his impetuous son and 
 Favourite into a military campaign, it was all the more terrible to 
 him that English arms should suffer ignominious defeat, not in 
 the fighting-line, but by pestilence and famine. The poor old 
 King had long been ailing, a victim to gout and rheumatism, 
 and now, on the 5th of March, 1625, he was seized by a 
 " tertian ague." The Marquis of Hamilton, who had been one 
 of his closest personal friends, had first died, and this event gravely 
 affected the King (though they had often squabbled together), so 
 that he had not the spirit to struggle against his illness. "I 
 shall never see London more," he said, with gloomy prophecy. 
 Getting a little better, he was removed on the 12th of March to 
 Hampton Court, and in his last days turned to the man he 
 loved best in the world after his son — perhaps before his son, 
 for he had less in common with the cold Charles. Buckingham 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 217 
 
 stayed by his bedside, eager in his warm-hearted way to do 
 all he could to comfort his old master, for whom, we cannot 
 help believing, he had a genuine affection. The King was a 
 querulous patient, and refused to take the medicine pressed 
 upon him by his physicians. Instead, he applied to Bucking- 
 ham for a mixture which the Duke, in his own illness, had had 
 from a Dr. Remington at Dunmow, to the great benefit of his 
 health. According to Sanderson, a contemporary writer, this 
 was a posset of milk and ale, hartshorn and marygold flowers, 
 ingredients ;harmless and ordinary. The King drank it, but 
 grew worse after taking it, and it was natural that his physicians, 
 whose skill was flouted by him, complained indignantly against 
 the interference of the Duke. One of them, a doctor Craig, spoke 
 so heatedly and wildly, that he was at once banished from the 
 Court. The Favourite's mother, the Countess of Buckingham, 
 who was also close in attendance upon the King, next applied a 
 plaister to the King's body in the hope of relieving his pain. In 
 a Court where the Villiers family had many enemies, and at 
 a time when death was often the subject of dark suspicions and 
 horrible accusations, it was an injudicious act, and Buckingham 
 himself remonstrated with his mother. But the Countess, who 
 was a strong-willed woman, persisted in having her own way, 
 and the plaister was applied. It now became evident, how- 
 ever, that the King was dying. The Lord Keeper Williams, 
 who was still out of favour with Buckingham, for having with 
 singularly foolish words advised his resignation of office as 
 Lord Admiral, to become Lord Steward in the place of 
 Hamilton, claimed his right to give spiritual comfort to the 
 Sovereign, and stayed in the chamber day and night, without 
 changing his dress. Kneeling by the bedside, he said that he 
 had come to exhort the King to set his house in order, for his 
 days would be few in this world. " I am satisfied," said the 
 King, who, though a coward in life, was not afraid now to face 
 his Royal brother, Death. " I desire you to assist me in pre- 
 paring to go hence, and to be with Christ, whose mercies I pray 
 for and hope to find." He had a secret interview with his son, 
 and afterwards received the sacrament. Then on the night of 
 Friday, March 27th, 1625, he raised himself for a moment on his 
 pillow, and with the words, Veni, Domine Jesu, fell back again, 
 and gave out his last breath, peacefully. 
 
218 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 The disgrace of the two physicians, Dr. Eglisham and Dr. 
 Craig, gave a handle to the enemies of the Villiers family for 
 accusations of the most horrible character against the Favourite 
 and his mother. Buckingham's supreme power during the last 
 year of King James's reign, and the disaster of the expedition to 
 the Palatinate had raised up a host of enemies against him, and 
 the popularity which he had gained after his return from Spain 
 had rapidly given way to hatred and distrust, fomented by the 
 Puritans, who detested the proposals for the French marriage. 
 The behaviour, therefore, of Buckingham and his mother by the 
 King's bedside, the bare facts of which were known only to a 
 few, were twisted into a diabolical appearance of guilty practices. 
 Dr. Craig, a man with a grievance, whispered dark things among 
 his friends. Dr. Eglisham gave such a public expression 
 to his suspicions that he had to fly from the country. At 
 Brussels, he composed a definite accusation of murder against 
 the Duke, and forwarded it to both Houses of Parliament, by 
 whom it was, of course, contemptuously disregarded. But in a 
 pamphlet, entitled " The Forerunner of Revenge," his accusations 
 found a way to the English public, and bred a swarm of foul 
 slanders against Buckingham and his family, mixed with much 
 wordy abuse and many self-evident absurdities. The specific 
 charge against the Favourite lies in the following narration : — 
 
 " The King being sick of a certain ague which in the spring 
 was of itself never found deadly, the Duke took this opportunity, 
 when all the doctors of physic were at dinner, upon the Monday 
 before the King died, without their knowledge or consent, and 
 offered him a white powder to take, the which he a long time 
 refused ; but overcome with his flattering importunity, at length 
 took it in wine, and immediately became worse and worse, 
 falling into many swoonings and pains, and violent fluxes of 
 the belly, so tormented that his Majesty cried out aloud of 
 the white powder, * Would to God I had never taken it ! it will 
 cost me my life.' 
 
 " In like manner also, the Countess of Buckingham, my Lord 
 of Buckingham's mother, upon the Friday, the physicians being 
 also absent and at dinner, and not made acquainted with her 
 doings, applied a plaister to the King's heart and breast ; where- 
 upon he grew faint and short-breathed, and in a great agony. 
 Some of the physicians after dinner, returning to see the King, 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 219 
 
 by the offensive smell of the plaister, perceived something to be 
 about him, hurtful to him, and searched what it should be, and 
 found it out, and exclaimed that the King was poisoned. The 
 Duke of Buckingham entering, commanded the physicians out 
 of the room, caused one of them to be committed prisoner to his 
 own chamber, and another to be removed from court ; quarrelled 
 with others of the King's servants in his sick Majesty's own 
 presence so far, that he offered to draw his sword against them 
 in his Majesty's sight. And Buckingham's mother, kneeling 
 down before his Majesty, cried out with a brazen face, 'Justice, 
 justice, sir, I demand justice of your Majesty ! ' His Majesty 
 asked her for what. ' For that which their lives are no ways 
 sufficient to satisfy, for saying that my son and I have poisoned 
 your Majesty.' ' Poisoned me ? ' said he ; with that turning 
 himself, swooned, and she was removed. 
 
 "The Sunday after his Majesty died, Buckingham desired 
 the physicians who attended his Majesty to sign with their own 
 hands a writ of testimony, that the powder which he gave him 
 was a good and safe medicine, which they refused. 
 
 " Immediately after his Majesty's death, the physician, who 
 was commanded to his chamber, was set at liberty, with a caveat 
 to hold his peace ; the others threatened, if they kept not good 
 tongues in their heads." 
 
 Eglisham's hatred of Buckingham was so intense that he was 
 not content with accusing him of the King's murder, but, with 
 many gross and preposterous details, made out that he had 
 poisoned the Marquis of Hamilton. He also refers in his pamphlet 
 to a document, said to have been written by the Duke and found in 
 the streets of London, giving a list of people who were to be " re- 
 moved " by his favourite in the same devilish way. Eglisham 
 himself was possibly the author of this forgery which was actually 
 perpetrated, as we learn from Sir Henry Wotton. 
 
 " I had a commission laid upon me," he writes, " by sovereign 
 command, to examine a lady about a certain filthy accusation, 
 grounded upon nothing but a few names taken up by a footman 
 in a kennel, and straight baptised. It was a list of each as the 
 Duke had appointed to be poisoned at home, himself being then 
 in Spain. I found it to be the most malicious and frantic sur- 
 mise, and the most contrary to his nature, that I think had ever 
 been brewed from the beginning of the world." 
 
220 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Dr. Eghsham was nothing but a vile blackmailer, as appears 
 from the evidence of both Wotton and Sanderson, who state that 
 this creature offered to publish a recantation of his slanders for 
 a certain sum of money, an offer received by the Duke with 
 indignation and disgust. But give a lie half an hour's start, 
 and the truth will never overtake it. The charges first uttered 
 by Craig and Eglisham were taken up by Coke, Wilson, 
 Weldon, Sir Symonds d'Ewes, and other contemporary writers 
 who repeat his horrible story with many contradictory varia- 
 tions which disprove any first-hand knowledge of the incidents 
 connected with the King's death. The increasing dislike to 
 Buckingham made even some honest men believe that there was, 
 at least, some grain of truth in the charges against him. 
 
 Yet the slander was so absurd in regard to Buckingham that 
 even passionate prejudice ought not to have given it a moment's 
 credence. The whole character of the man, so open-hearted, so 
 entirely lacking in gloomy, brooding thoughts, so quick to 
 express every fleeting mood and fancy, made it impossible for 
 him to have ever conceived such a crime. Then he had nothing 
 to gain by the King's death. He had been master of the King's 
 will, he was in all but name the sovereign power in the country, 
 and though as it happened Charles, who succeeded, continued 
 him in his position as favourite, there was no certainty before- 
 hand that the Prince's cold, obstinate, jealous nature would be 
 so favourable to Buckingham's ambitions as the affection of the 
 doating old monarch. 
 
 We may dismiss every shadow of the slander as false and out- 
 rageous. James died from perfectly natural causes. " Certainly," 
 says Bishop Goodman, " there never lived a better natured man 
 than Buckingham was. Yet if it were fit for me to deliever 
 mine own opinion, being the last man that did him [the King] 
 homage in the time of his sickness, truly I think that King 
 James every autumn did feed a little more than moderately 
 upon fruits : he had his grapes, his nectarines, and other fruits in 
 his own keeping ; besides we did see that he fed very plentifully 
 on them from abroad. I remember that Mr. French of the 
 Spicery, who sometimes did present him with his first straw- 
 berries, cherries, and other fruits, kneeling to the King, had 
 some speech to use to him — that he did desire his Majesty to 
 accept them, and that he was sorry they were not better — with 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF JAMES I 221 
 
 such-like complemental words ; but the King never had the 
 patience to hear him one word, but his hand was in the basket. 
 After his eating of fruit in the spring-time, his body fell into 
 a great looseness, which although while he was young did tend 
 to preserve his health, yet now being grown toward sixty, it did 
 a little weaken his body, and going to Theobalds, to New- 
 market, and stirring abroad when as the coldness of the year 
 was not yet past almost, it could not be prevented but he must 
 fall into a quartan ague." 
 
 This seems a reasonable explanation of the cause of the 
 King's mortal illness, but, whether true or not, there is no 
 excuse for a modern historian to adopt the black suspicions of 
 the time with regard to the Duke of Buckingham, who after- 
 wards "spake with tears in his eyes" when he recalled how 
 much he had been beholden to the King for all favours to himself 
 and his kindred. Buckingham's tears did not flow readily, but 
 they came from a warm and generous heart. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 THE FRENCH MARRIAGE 
 
 IF any of Buckingham's enemies believed that the death 
 of his old master, James, would make a difference to his 
 position in the kingdom, they were quickly disillusioned. 
 While the body of the late King was awaiting burial, Bucking- 
 ham slept in the new King's room, or quite close to him, and 
 he was the first to be sworn a gentleman of the bed-chamber. 
 A few days later, however, he was taken ill, and on the first of 
 April had to be carried in his chair to his lodgings in White- 
 hall, where he stayed awhile, treating himself with physic. 
 " He hath been lately much troubled with an impostume that 
 brake in his head," wrote John Chamberlain to Sir Dudley 
 Carleton, "and is yet somewhat crazy; but he continues in 
 wonted favour and greatness." 
 
 His brother, Kit Villiers, the Earl of Anglesey, was not so 
 fortunate in keeping his place, for the King refused to have him 
 sworn of his bed-chamber, saying he would have no drunkards 
 about his person.* King Charles made some other alterations 
 of office, the Earl of Pembroke becoming Lord Steward, and 
 his brother Montgomery Lord Chamberlain. A new man was 
 appointed to the Privy Council — Sir Humphrey May, eager to 
 serve the King and Buckingham in all their desires. He will 
 be remembered by my readers as the man who went to the Earl 
 of Somerset in George's early days at Court, with the attempt 
 to reconcile the old favourite with the new. Sir Francis 
 Cottington, who had been, it will be remembered, the private 
 secretary of Charles as Prince of Wales, and one of his com- 
 panions on the Spanish journey, was removed from his place, 
 and forbidden to appear at Court. This was construed as a 
 * Rev. Joseph Mead wrote to Sir Martin Stutcvillc. — " Court and Times." 
 
 222 
 
X 
 
 u 
 
THE FRENCH MARRIAGE 223 
 
 sign that Buckingham's influence with Charles was of the same 
 character as his former hold over the late King, and that his 
 personal interests, enmities, and friendships would be the 
 dominant factors in the Court of King Charles. In this case, 
 however, the truth is that the King had his own reasons to 
 dislike Cottington. The secretary, having fallen ill in Madrid, 
 had been received into the Catholic Church, a crime in the eyes 
 of Charles, who now hated Catholicism because he hated 
 Catholic Spain. But Cottington had also been heard to declare 
 that the breaking of the Spanish treaties was not justified by 
 political wisdom. That amounted to something like high 
 treason. Cottington, like others, believed that his undoing 
 was entirely due to Buckingham's enmity, and he made a frank 
 endeavour to regain the Duke's favour. Drawing him on one 
 side he asked " whether it could not be in his power, by all 
 dutiful application and all possible service to be restored to the 
 good opinion his Grace had once vouchsafed to have of him, 
 and to be admitted to serve him ? " 
 
 Buckingham was no less frank. Now, as always, he acted 
 openly ; in enmity, as he did in friendship. He told Cottington 
 " that he would deal very clearly with him ; that it was utterly 
 impossible to bring to pass that which he had proposed ; but 
 that he was not only firmly resolved never to trust him, or 
 to have to do with him, but that he was and would be always 
 his declared enemy ; and that he should do always whatsoever 
 should be in his power to ruin and destroy him, and of this he 
 might be assured." 
 
 Cottington, who was a man of business, decided to save as 
 much as he could out of the ruin of his fortune, and knowing 
 Buckingham's honesty, made an appeal to his sense of justice. 
 He explained that he had spent a good deal of his own money 
 in buying jewels and pictures to the Duke's commission, and 
 that in hope of future favours he had given him a set of 
 tapestries worth ^"8oo. He hoped, he said, that his Grace would 
 not suffer himself to gain by his victim's loss. " Certainly not," 
 said Buckingham, loftily. "Send in your account, and every 
 penny shall be paid." * 
 
 A curious little anecdote, very characteristic of Buckingham, 
 but also very significant of the new regime at Court, which would 
 
 * Clarendon, and others. 
 
224 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 make it dangerous for any man to utter words which others 
 might hear. The Court of Charles, from the very first day upon 
 which he received the homage of his Lords, had a different 
 atmosphere from what men had breathed under the first Stuart, 
 and Charles had hardly a trait of his father's character. James, 
 though sincere in his religious convictions, was morally lax, and 
 his Court was a place of open debauchery. Charles, on the 
 other hand was strict in his purity, and would not tolerate the 
 noisy frolics and coarse buffooneries which James had enjoyed 
 among his boys. But the old King had had the virtues of his 
 vices (if one may invert a familiar French proverb). His easy 
 good nature, which often led him into folly and favouritism, 
 guarded him often from cruelty and injustice. Conscious, also, 
 that the honours and riches which he lavished on such men as 
 Somerset and Buckingham, and his host of minor favourites, 
 were the reward, not of political ability, but of personal charms, 
 he had, at least until his dotage, trusted to his own opinions 
 and wisdom in his domestic and foreign policy (though his 
 opinions veered as often as a weather-vane), exercising his 
 sovereign authority and veto in all matters of importance. But 
 Charles was unconscious of his own weakness. With a rather 
 cold nature and narrow vision, he had fixed ideas which were 
 more dangerous than his father's inconsistency. He was not 
 governed by his affections, but by an intellect singularly lacking 
 in imagination and breadth, and Buckingham was not so much 
 his favourite as his Prime Minister, with infinitely more power, 
 therefore, than when his position was subordinate to the moods 
 and wishes of his old lord and master. Having gained the con- 
 fidence of Charles, who believed in his political wisdom, there 
 was no check upon his actions, for Charles had more than the 
 obstinacy of his father, and none of that amiable and affectionate 
 weakness which had made James so accessible to new im- 
 pressions and so ready to give an ear to every adviser. 
 
 In spite, therefore, of the disasters to the English troops 
 under Mansfeld, Buckingham was able to persist in his fatal 
 foreign policy, with the King's full authority and assistance. 
 
 One army had been almost annihilated. Buckingham, with 
 undaunted enthusiasm, prepared to raise another. As Lord 
 Admiral he also pressed forward the preparations for the fitting 
 out of an English fleet, consisting of twelve battleships, twenty 
 
THE FRENCH MARRIAGE 223 
 
 armed merchantmen, and fifty colliers for transport, at Ports- 
 mouth, and obtained the consent of the Privy Council to impress 
 ten thousand citizens to go out with his fleet as soldiers. One 
 may read such a sentence without a thrill, yet if one thinks a 
 little the imagination may easily realize the horrid work of the 
 press-gangs upon this gigantic task of capturing ten thousand 
 " stout fellows " for foreign service of an unknown character, 
 for what was going to be done with the fleet and army was 
 unknown even to Buckingham himself. The pressed men he 
 wished to exchange with the Dutch for English volunteers in 
 the Netherlands, who had already been trained in war. But 
 the objective of the fleet was quite undecided until the French 
 Government declared its policy. If France would co-operate 
 with this English force, a formal war might be declared against 
 Spain, followed by victories glorious to Buckingham and 
 England. But Louis and his minister, Richelieu, were still 
 cautiously avoiding any contract in the nature of an offensive 
 alliance. 
 
 So Buckingham decided upon a plan, which had already 
 been half arranged, but postponed. Confident always of his 
 personal influence (though it had failed so utterly in Spain), he 
 decided to go over to France to fetch the young Princess, who 
 was to be wedded to Charles by proxy on May ist. While in 
 Paris he would have an opportunity of using his powers of 
 persuasion on the French King and his crafty minister. 
 
 During the last days of James, Buckingham had intended 
 to cross over to France in order to be present at the marriage ; 
 and he had made elaborate preparations for a wardrobe worthy 
 of such a ceremony. The list of his promised " wedding gar- 
 ments," and of his whole suite to accompany him, has been 
 recorded, and may well be printed as an illustration of his 
 prodigal magnificence, which Buckingham thought suitable to 
 his high estate. 
 
 " My Lord Duke is intended to take his Journey towards 
 Paris on Wednesday the 31st of March. His Grace hath for 
 his body twenty-seven rich suits embroidered and lased with 
 silk and silver plusches, besides one rich white satten uncut 
 velvet suit, set all over both suite and cloak with diamonds ; 
 which suit His Grace intends to enter into Paris with. The 
 other rich suit is of purple satin embroidered all over with rich 
 Q 
 
226 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 orient pearls ; the cloak made after the Spanish fashion with 
 all things suitable ; the value whereof will be twenty thousand 
 pounds; and this is thought shall be for the wedding day in 
 Paris. His other suits are all rich as invention can frame, or art 
 fashion. His colours for the Entrance are white and matchet, 
 and for the Wedding crimson and gold. 
 Twenty Privie Gentlemen, \ 
 Seven grooms of his Chamber, I Three rich 
 Thirty chief Yeomen, [ suits apiece. 
 
 Two Master Cooks. / 
 
 Of his own servants for the Household — 
 Twenty-five second cooks : — 
 Fourteen Yeomen of the second rank : 
 Seventeen grooms to them. 
 
 Forty-five labourers selletters belonging to the kitchen. 
 Twelve Pages : three rich suits apiece. 
 Twenty-four footmen : three rich suits and two rich coats 
 apiece. 
 
 Twelve grooms : one suit apiece. 
 Six riders : one suit apiece. 
 
 Besides eight others, to attend the stable business. 
 Three rich velvet coaches inside, without with gold lace all 
 over. Eight horses in each Coach, and six coachmen richly 
 suited. Eight score musicians richly suited. Twenty-two 
 watermen, suited in sky coloured taffaty all gilded with 
 anchorage and my lord's arms ; all these to row in one barge 
 of my lord's. All these servants have everything suitable, all 
 being [at] his Grace's charge. 
 
 Lords already knowne to go. 
 Marques Hambleton. 
 Earl Dorset. 
 „ Denbigh. 
 „ Montgomery. 
 „ Warwick. 
 „ Anglesey. 
 „ Salisbury. 
 Lord Walden. 
 Mr. Villars. 
 Mr. Edw. Howard. 
 Lo. President's two sons. 
 
THE FRENCH MARRIAGE 227 
 
 Mr. Wm. Segar. 
 
 Mr. Francis Anslove. 
 
 Mr. Edw. Goring. 
 
 Mr. Walter Steward. 
 
 Besides twenty-four Knights of great worth, all which will 
 carry six or seven pages apiece, or as many footmen. The 
 whole train will be six or seven hundred persons at least. 
 When the list is perfect, there will appear many more than I 
 have named." * 
 
 All this anticipated splendour was countermanded on account 
 of the King's illness and death, the marriage itself being post- 
 poned. But now, in desperate anxiety to effect a military 
 alliance with France, Buckingham urged Charles to conclude 
 the marriage by proxy, and, in all haste, he made arrangements 
 to bring back the bride. From a letter to the Rev. Joseph 
 Mead, of April 27, 1625, we find that "the Duke's servants are 
 gone towards France, with fifty geldings and nags, and twelve 
 coach horses," but as soon as poor old James had been buried 
 with solemn pomp, Buckingham hurried away without his full 
 wardrobe, accompanied only by the Earl of Montgomery, 
 Secretary Morton, Sir George Goring, Sir Thomas Badger, and 
 Wat Montague. In the meanwhile Henrietta Maria, sister of 
 King Louis XIII., had been duly married on a stage outside 
 the west door of Notre Dame, according to the ancient rites 
 of France, the Due de Chevreuse, who was " pro-Anglican " in 
 his sympathies, standing as the proxy of King Charles. 
 
 Buckingham arrived in Paris on May 14th, and the Pari- 
 sians were all agog to catch a sight of this great Englishman, 
 whose magnificence appealed to their imagination, as the 
 memory of it still lives in France, in the immortal novel of 
 Dumas. He was received with the utmost ceremony and 
 courtesy by the French Court. " He appeared," says Lord 
 Clarendon, "with all the lustre the wealth of England could 
 adorn him with, and outshined all the bravery that Court could 
 dress in, and overacted the whole nation in their most peculiar 
 vanities." He was soon close in council with King Louis and 
 Richelieu. Of what actually passed during those secret con- 
 ferences we know very little. But it is certain that Louis 
 refused to bind himself in any way either to make war with 
 
 * Harleian MSS. Reprinted in Ellis's Letters. 
 
228 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Spain, or to reject overtures of peace, nor would he pledge 
 himself to co-operate with his full force for the recovery of the 
 Palatinate. All that he would promise was to reinforce Mans- 
 feld's broken army by two thousand French cavalry, and he 
 was inclined under certain conditions to make peace with the 
 Protestants of Rochelle, who were in mutiny against their King 
 and country. This latest concession was very ardently desired 
 by King Charles and Buckingham, because, if they entered into 
 an offensive and defensive alliance with France, it might possibly 
 happen that English ships and Protestant seamen would have 
 to be employed against the Rochellois — to the great scandal of 
 the English people. Buckingham, however, had come with 
 much greater hopes, and the disappointment of his personal 
 embassy was bitter and disheartening. Perhaps it made him 
 a little mad. Perhaps some touch of that " craziness " from 
 which, according to John Chamberlain, he had recently been 
 suffering, still affected his brain. Perhaps, on the other hand, 
 there was beneath an extraordinary adventure into which he 
 now plunged, some wild political strategy or hope of revenge ; 
 or was it that this man, with the good and beautiful wife at 
 home, was seized with a sudden uncontrollable passion for a 
 woman in whose eyes he read some secret message or a secret 
 yearning ? We can hardly guess at the psychology of the mood 
 which now seems to have mastered him, but certain it is that 
 Buckingham, who had come to fetch the wife of his own King, 
 allowed himself to make violent protestations of love to the wife 
 of the King of France. 
 
 Anne of Austria, acknowledged as one of the fairest ladies 
 in Europe, was at this time a neglected wife, and, like many 
 such women, yearned, perhaps, for a romance which would ease 
 the pain, and solace the loneliness, of her poor passionate heart. 
 Buckingham, in his splendour, so superb in presence and in 
 manner, gracious, persuasive, and fascinating to all women, and 
 naturally anxious upon his arrival at the Court of Louis to 
 obtain the favour of the French Queen, must have seemed to 
 her one of those chivalrous, heroic beings pictured in the 
 imagination of the troubadours and the writers of romance. By 
 some word or glance she must have betrayed her secret to the 
 man who had some skill in reading women's eyes, and he, 
 excited by the danger of her high position, stirred by the 
 
ANNE OF AUSTRIA, CONSORT OF LOUIS XIII 
 
 FROM A MINIATURE AT SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM 
 
THE FRENCH MARRIAGE 229 
 
 adventurous thrill of such an amour, foreseeing in it, perhaps, 
 some means of gaining a hold upon the French King, forgot 
 his faithful Duchess, and his own faith, and with all the arts of 
 gallantry, in which, if we may believe his contemporaries, he 
 was a past-master, stretched out his hands for the Queen's 
 heart. Madame de Motteville, who was her closest friend, con- 
 fesses in her " Memoirs " that the Queen was much touched by 
 the Duke's personality, and declared that he was the only one 
 bold enough to lay siege to her heart. " He was well made, 
 with a handsome face ; he had a great soul, he was magnificent, 
 lavish, and the favourite of a great King. He had all the 
 King's treasures at his disposal, and all the jewels of the English 
 crown to adorn himself. It is not astonishing that with so 
 many charming qualities he should have had such high 
 ambitions, such exalted but dangerous and blameworthy 
 desires." 
 
 Madame de Motteville relates a curious scene in which 
 Buckingham expressed his passion. The Queen was walking 
 with the Duke in a garden, followed at a discreet distance by a 
 numerous suite. Talking together^ and closely attended only 
 by the Queen's squire, Putange, they came to a turn in the 
 path where a fence hid them from the public eye. The squire, 
 perceiving that Buckingham desired to say something privately 
 to the Queen, and like a gallant young Frenchman anxious 
 not to intrude upon what was evidently a tender tite-d-tite, took 
 occasion to lag behind. What exactly happened is unknown. 
 It seems, however, that Buckingham spoke so passionately and 
 wildly that the Queen was frightened, and suddenly cried out, 
 and immediately the squire ran up, and his mistress scolded 
 him for having left her, her agitation and her cry revealing to 
 everybody that something unusual had taken place. The news 
 could not be kept from the King, and it is certain that from this 
 time he regarded Buckingham with the deepest suspicion and 
 dislike. Outwardly, however, all was well, and Henrietta Maria, 
 the English Queen as she was now called, was escorted to 
 Amiens by Marie de Medicis the Queen-Mother, Anne of 
 Austria herself, and a great cavalcade of some four thousand 
 French nobles and ladies. Rich presents were lavished on the 
 English ambassadors and gentlemen. " The Duke of Bucking- 
 ham," says Chamberlain, in one of his letters, " himself wrote to 
 
230 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 the King that he had already to the value of 80,000 crowns ; 
 the Earl of Carlisle 22,000 crowns, the Earl of Holland to 2000 
 crowns, Secretary Morton to £200 ; Sir George Goring had a 
 diamond from the King of ^1000, from the Queen-Mother one 
 of £300, and curious plate to the value of £ 1 200 ; as likewise 
 Sir Francis Nethersole the same quantity of plate." Bucking- 
 ham with his suite now took possession of their sovereign's 
 young wife, and said farewell to the French train. We may 
 judge of the Duke's state of mind by another incident narrated 
 by Madame de Motteville, who was told by the Queen herself. 
 Buckingham came and kissed her dress as she sat in a coach 
 with the Princesse de Conti by her side. He hid himself behind 
 the curtain, as though to say a few words, "but much more 
 to wipe away the tears which at that moment fell from his 
 eyes." 
 
 But more extraordinary behaviour was to follow. Bucking, 
 ham arrived nearly as far as Calais with Henrietta's retinue, 
 when he was met by a courier from England carrying certain in- 
 structions regarding his negotiations with the French King. They 
 seem to have been of an important character, but Buckingham 
 seized the excuse to ride back to Amiens. Having delivered a 
 message to the Queen-Mother, on the subject of his despatches, 
 he requested an audience of the young Queen. Readers un- 
 frequented with the manners of the French Court at that time, 
 and much later, will be rather shocked to hear that he was 
 received at her bedside, but this was the customary etiquette 
 of Royalty, and the word levie, still in use, owes its origin to 
 that habit. But, in this case, the only person in attendance on 
 the Queen was the Comtesse de Lannoi, her lady of honour, 
 described as "prudent, virtuous, and elderly." Buckingham's 
 behaviour, too, was not merely the gallant homage due to a 
 Royal lady of France. Throwing himself upon his knees at 
 her bedside, he kissed the coverlet with such extraordinary 
 transports that, says Madame de Motteville, " it was easy to 
 see that his passion was violent and of a kind that does not 
 leave the use of reason to those attacked by it." 
 
 The Queen admitted afterwards that she was very much 
 embarrassed, as well as somewhat annoyed, so that for a long 
 time she stayed without saying a word. But the old Countess, 
 not at all wishing that the Duke should continue in his 
 
THE FRENCH MARRIAGE 231 
 
 madness, told him " very severely " that this was not the custom 
 in France, and begged him to rise. But Buckingham, quite 
 unbashed, argued the point, and swore that as he was not a 
 Frenchman he need not observe all the laws of the Constitution. 
 Then turning again to the Queen, he spoke, quite loudly, " the 
 most tender things in the world." By this time the Queen 
 had recovered her senses, and, afraid of being compromised by 
 such a scene, complained repeatedly of his boldness, and as 
 Madame de Motteville slyly remarks, " without perhaps being 
 too angry," ordered him to get off his knees and go away. 
 Buckingham was at last prevailed on to do so. But he stayed 
 a night at Amiens, and the next day the Queen showed that she 
 was really not very angry with him by receiving him in the 
 presence of the whole Court. Buckingham then took his leave, 
 but he left behind him at the Court two friends who were 
 secretly instructed to serve his interests with the Queen and to 
 keep his memory green. One was Henry Rich, Lord of 
 Holland, who delighted in such services, the other Balthazar 
 Gerbier, an artist, who was in Buckingham's employment and 
 his most faithful slave and flatterer. 
 
 It is impossible to know how far the French Queen recipro- 
 cated the passion of her lover. It is possible, as Madame de 
 Motteville makes out, that, brought up in an atmosphere of 
 gallantry, she kept a pure heart, and saw nothing more than 
 a romantic and innocent attachment in her relations with the 
 English Duke. But however that may be, she was certainly 
 guilty of most dangerous indiscretion. According to Roger 
 Coke, she found means to send through Balthazar Gerbier, 
 though he was under the continual espionage of Richelieu's 
 agents, a valuable jewel, and, what was more suggestive of 
 intimate love, her own garter. Nor did she attempt to contra- 
 dict, but seemed rather to find a sweet flattery in the popular 
 reports of her love for the English Duke. There is an anecdote 
 told of how she happened to meet one day, the poet Voiture, 
 and upon inquiring his thoughts he spoke the following verses, 
 instantly improvised : — 
 
 " Je pensois (car nous autres poe'tes 
 Nous pensons extravagement) 
 Ce que, dans l'humeur oil vous fites, 
 Vous feriez, si dans ce moment 
 
THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Vous avisiez en cette place, 
 
 Venir le Due de Buckingham 
 Et lesquel seroit en disgrace 
 
 De lui ou du Pere Vincent." * 
 
 Some time afterwards Buckingham desired to return to 
 France in order that he might again see the fair young Queen, 
 but he was given to understand very explicitly that King Louis 
 would by no means permit him on French soil. It was probably 
 at this time that he received a curious letter, partly written in 
 cipher, from Henry Rich, Earl of Holland. " Do as you will," 
 he writes. " I dare not advise you ; to come is dangerous, not 
 to come is unfortunate." 
 
 Going back now to the journey of Henrietta Maria to 
 England, it is clear that Buckingham was not with the suite 
 which took her to Dover, where _ Charles had been waiting 
 impatiently for her arrival. Some weeks before, the ladies 
 of the Court who had been chosen to attend upon the new 
 Queen, had travelled with great encumbrances of baggage, 
 and coaches furnished with six horses ("which comes altogether 
 now in fashion, a vanity of excessive charge and of little use ") 
 says Chamberlain, with many servants to the coast, but the ladies 
 of the Villiers family, all but Kate Buckingham, who seemed 
 always to have been the patient housewife, went across the 
 Channel to Boulogne. There were the Countesses of Bucking- 
 ham, Denbigh, and Anglesey, who were accompanied by the 
 young Marquis of Hamilton. Charles had been earnestly 
 recommended by his mother-in-law, the Queen - Mother of 
 France, not to meet Henrietta immediately upon her arrival at 
 Dover, in order that she might have time to recover from sea- 
 sickness and to regain her good looks. Charles, however, 
 wishing to play the part of an eager lover, rode over from 
 Canterbury the morning after the English ships had put into 
 port. The little Queen was not; ready for him, but as soon as 
 she heard of his coming she hastened down a pair of stairs to 
 meet him, and with pretty humility offered to kneel down and 
 kiss his hand. But he lifted her up in his arms, and kissed her 
 with many kisses. Then in French she spoke her first words to 
 her husband : 
 
 " Sire, je suis venue en ce pays pour votre majeste pour 
 estre usee et commandee de vous." 
 
 * The Queen's confessor. 
 
THE FRENCH MARRIAGE 233 
 
 Then she noticed that Charles glanced down to her feet to 
 see whether she wore high shoes. He had heard so much of 
 her tiny stature that he was surprised to find that she reached 
 as high as his shoulders. With quick wit she answered his 
 unspoken thought. 
 
 " Sire, I stand upon my own feet ; I have no helps by art. 
 Thus high am I, and am neither higher nor lower." 
 
 The young Queen had come with a train of priests, waiting- 
 women, and servants, all of whom she introduced by name to 
 her husband, who received them with a cold courtesy. But on 
 the first day of marriage, nothing jarred upon the general 
 happiness, and the King and Queen were eager to be affection- 
 ate and merry. At dinner the King carved up pheasant and 
 venison, and the young wife, strict Catholic as she was, thought 
 well to disregard the reminder from her confessor that it was a 
 fast day, and ate heartily of the good meats. 
 
 " The same night, having supped at Canterbury, her majesty 
 went to bed, and some time after his majesty followed her; 
 but having entered his bed-chamber, the first thing he did, 
 he bolted all the doors round about, being seven, with his own 
 hand, letting in but two of his bed-chamber to undress him ; 
 which being done, he bolted them out also. The next morning, 
 he lay till seven o'clock, and was pleasant with the lords that he 
 had beguiled them, and ever since hath been very jocund." 
 He had defended himself from those merry but wanton marriage 
 customs which, by being traditional in England, were allowed to 
 disturb the wedding night. 
 
 Upon the journey to London the young Queen was received 
 with great enthusiasm by the English people, and between 
 Gravesend and Whitehall, she was able to see part of the fleet 
 which was being fitted out for active service, a volley of fifteen 
 hundred great shot thundering a welcome at her. At White- 
 hall the Court made merry with masques and banquets, and 
 Buckingham, who was now at York House, entertained their 
 majesties with such magnificence and prodigal expense that 
 even the famous banquets of Hay, Earl of Carlisle, were far 
 outshone. 
 
 John Chamberlain, describing one of these banquets at 
 Buckingham's house, says that " One rare dish came by mere 
 chance: a sturgeon, full six feet long, that afternoon leaping 
 
THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 into a sculler's boat not far from the place, was served in at 
 supper." Then he goes on bitterly : " In all these shows and 
 feastings there hath been such excessive bravery on all sides, as 
 bred rather a surfeit than any delight in them that saw it. And 
 it were more fit, and would have become us to compare and 
 dispute with such pompous kind of people [the French] in iron 
 and steel, than in gold and jewels, wherein we come not 
 near them." 
 
 It was only for a few days at most that the Royal honey- 
 moon was undimmed by passing shadows. Then there were 
 unpleasant little incidents which tried the temper of both the 
 King and Queen, and led to such strained relations between 
 them for a time that it seemed as if the marriage would end in 
 tragedy. The Queen was a devout Catholic, and a high-spirited 
 young woman, who was not at all inclined to yield any of the 
 privileges and liberties of faith which had been granted to her 
 by the treaty. She had come to England believing that, accord- 
 ing to the promises formally made, the English Catholics would 
 no longer be penalized, and that the Catholic priests and 
 attendants of her own household would have perfect freedom 
 and respectful treatment. But the disappointing issue of the 
 negotiations with the French Government had not made either 
 Charles or Buckingham eager to fulfil their side of the contract, 
 and to the Queen's astonishment and indignation, Catholics 
 were still being dealt with severely. On the other hand, 
 Charles, who had become rigidly convinced of the righteousness 
 of the Anglican Church, was continually irritated by the 
 presence of the priests who surrounded his wife, and who 
 tactlessly adopted a hostile and aggressive attitude. There 
 was, indeed, a lack of conciliation and toleration on both sides. 
 At the very first Mass said before the Queen in London, the 
 King gave orders that none of his Court should be present. 
 Afterwards all the Protestants who attended on the Queen 
 were dismissed by her Chamberlain, and the King retaliated by 
 forbidding any English Catholics to serve her. This did not 
 improve her Majesty's temper, which was soon found to be 
 easily roused, in spite of her humility and graciousness upon 
 first coming to England. One Mr. Mordaunt wrote to the Rev. 
 Joseph Mead (whose letters were full of such anecdotes), that 
 " The Queen, howsoever little of stature, is of spirit and vigour, 
 
THE FRENCH MARRIAGE 235 
 
 and seems of a more than ordinary resolution. With one frown, 
 divers of us being at Whitehall to see her, being at dinner, and 
 the room somewhat overheated with the fire and company, she 
 drove us all out of the chamber. I suppose none but a Queen 
 could have cast such a scowl." 
 
 Another story in the clergyman's correspondence shows the 
 disagreeable antagonism existing between the Catholic and 
 Protestant clergy at Court, who seem to have done their best, 
 or worst, to cause a breach between the King and Queen. 
 Their Majesties were dining together in state, and Mr. Hacket, 
 chaplain to the Lord Keeper Williams, began to say grace, 
 when the Queen's confessor would have prevented him, " but 
 that Hacket shoved him away," whereupon " the confessor went 
 to the Queen's side, and was about to say grace again, but that 
 the King, pulling the dishes unto him, and the carvers falling 
 to their business, hindered. When the dinner was done, he 
 thought, standing by the Queen, to have been before Mr. 
 Hacket ; but Mr. Hacket again got the start. The confessor, 
 nevertheless, begins his grace as loud as Mr. Hacket, with such 
 a confusion that the King in a great passion instantly rose from 
 the table, and taking the Queen by the hand, retired into the 
 bed-chamber. Was not this a priestly discretion ? " 
 
 In addition to these religious differences which inevitably 
 created a barrier between husband and jvife, Charles, who was 
 of a jealous and sensitive nature, felt himself humiliated and 
 insulted by the confidence which the Queen put in her own 
 clergy, and the familiarity she allowed them. It was not an 
 unusual thing for the King to find his wife's bed-chamber 
 thronged by priests, and, although there was no suggestion of 
 impropriety, the bedroom being, as already explained, the 
 recognized apartment for the morning reception, yet Charles 
 naturally resented this intrusion .of foreigners, with whom he had 
 no sympathy, and whom he believed were so many spies and 
 mischief-makers, into the privacy of the Queen's apartments. , 
 
 A smouldering hatred for the French began to take posses- 
 sion of his heart, and there is reason to believe that Buckingham 
 helped to increase this exasperation. The Duke was certainly 
 not on good terms with the Queen in these early days ; knowing 
 of his passionate behaviour towards her brother's wife, she pro- 
 bably feared and mistrusted him. On his side, finding that this 
 
236 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 marriage, which he had advanced only as a means of furthering 
 his foreign policy, had not resulted in any close and binding 
 treaty with France, he was prejudiced against the girl-queen 
 whom he had hoped to use as a pawn in the deadly game of 
 international politics. 
 
 Madame de Motteville declared that she heard from Queen 
 Henrietta Maria's own lips in after-days, when the widow of 
 Charles, King and Martyr, was an exile in France, that 
 Buckingham had fomented the quarrels between Charles and 
 herself at the beginning of their married life, and had told 
 her quite frankly that he would cause strife between them. 
 Madam's word is not to be taken, perhaps, au pied de la lettre, 
 but there is evidence that the Duke acted on behalf of the King, 
 when later Charles exerted his authority as a husband at the 
 expense of his promises as a lover. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 THE EARLY DAYS OF CHARLES I 
 
 CHARLES now had to face his first Parliament, and 
 Buckingham had to stand by his side as the responsible 
 minister of his policy and actions. It was not a pleasant task 
 for either of them. Charles had no love for Parliaments, but 
 he was in desperate need of money, and conciliation was the 
 only means of obtaining subsidies from a House of Commons 
 which, with the beginning of a new reign, was animated by a 
 new spirit. Voices were now heard of men who had come as 
 the representatives of a people determined to remedy old abuses, 
 and to control the destinies of the nation, men moved by a proud 
 spirit of independence, and of determination to stand by their 
 privileges and liberties, men of stern Puritan instinct, and men 
 who, having nothing in common with the Puritans save in fanatical 
 hatred of Catholicism, were inspired by revolutionary and demo- 
 cratic ideals. Pym was there, hard-headed, watchful, and with 
 the courage of a bull-dog ; and Sir John Eliot, formerly a friend 
 of Buckingham, and still not an enemy, but a democrat and an 
 individualist, believing not in the divine right of kings, but in 
 the divinity of man, and a staunch champion of Parliamentary 
 government as representative of the people's will. Sir Francis 
 Seymour, the hater of Spain and " the Papacy " ; Glanville, the 
 man of precedents ; Phelips, the bold advocate of retrenchment 
 and reform ; Sir Thomas Wentworth (not yet Lord Strafford, 
 " the Thorough "), contemptuous of formality and red tape, but 
 ardent in his desire for national efficiency under strong and 
 resolute government ; — such men as these demanded, in no un- 
 certain way, to know the King's purpose and policy at the 
 commencement of his reign. The King's purpose was to obtain 
 money — a great deal of money ; his policy was so vague and 
 
 237 
 
238 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 undetermined, and was already discounted by such disasters and 
 disappointments, that he could not reveal it to his Commons 
 with any hope of arousing their confidence and enthusiasm. 
 He reminded them of their eagerness to break the treaties of 
 Spain, and of the engagements with other foreign powers into 
 which his father had entered by their advice. With regard to 
 the continental war to which he now stood pledged on behalf 
 of the Palatinate, he asked them to reflect " what a great dis- 
 honour it were both to you and to me if this action so begun 
 . should fail for that assistance you are able to give me." 
 
 But the Commons had lost their enthusiasm for the war in 
 Germany. The disasters of the English troops under Mansfeld 
 could not be forgotten nor forgiven. The leniency shown to 
 Catholics at home made them doubt the sincerity of the Pro- 
 testant crusade, and some of them smelt papist plots at every 
 street corner. So the first Parliament of Charles uttered 
 speeches which to him seemed nothing less than treasonable, 
 and the subsidy of ^140,000, which after long discussion they 
 finally granted, was infinitely less than he needed, and had 
 confidently demanded. 
 
 Buckingham, upon whose shoulders rested the responsibility 
 of the war, saw himself condemned by this inadequate vote to a 
 restricted action which would result in new disaster. He had 
 entered into heavy financial engagements with both France and 
 Denmark for the co-operation of their armies against Austria 
 and Spain. He had raised another army at home, and had 
 equipped a fleet, both of which must be disbanded and dispersed 
 if money was not found to pay men's wages. He had already 
 spent large sums of his private fortune * in his country's cause, 
 and that the representatives of the nation should now abandon 
 the policy which they had advocated during the reign of James 
 seemed to him black ingratitude, and a base betrayal of 
 England's honour. 
 
 With bold ingenuity he endeavoured to persuade them into 
 the granting of further subsidies by something like a coup d'itat. 
 A plague was raging in London, and people were reckoning up 
 the death bills with shuddering fear as they mounted higher 
 week by week. Even members of Parliament were willing to 
 cut short their speeches for the sake of an earlier dissolution. 
 
 * Rushworth. 
 
THE EARLY DAYS OF CHARLES I 239 
 
 By July numbers of them had already been scared away into 
 the country, and only a few remained to take part in the 
 debates. The King himself had hastily returned to Hampton 
 Court upon hearing that the foul disease had invaded his own 
 palace of Whitehall. 
 
 Buckingham thought he saw an opportunity. Hastily sum- 
 moning his own followers in the House, he told them that he 
 intended to put up a member to demand additional subsidies 
 before the session closed. It was a dangerous game, and even 
 his friends shirked this attempt to "jump" a diminished 
 assembly into granting large sums of public money. Sir 
 Humphrey May, who had been appointed to the Privy Council 
 by Buckingham, was so alarmed at the probable results of such 
 an action that he approached Eliot, as being independent, and 
 yet not an acknowledged enemy of the Duke's, to remonstrate 
 with him. 
 
 Eliot accepted the commission. Presenting himself at York 
 House, he arrived when the Duke and his lady were in bed. 
 But upon sending a message as to the urgency of his business, 
 the Duchess rose and withdrew to her cabinet, upon which he 
 was admitted at once. Eliot proceeded plainly and without a 
 waste of words, and declared that to force such a motion upon 
 the House of Commons at a time when so many members had 
 gone away, would be " an ambuscade and a surprise." What- 
 ever the result, it would not be to the honour of the King, nor 
 honourable towards his subjects. 
 
 Buckingham was not in a yielding mood. We can imagine 
 him impatiently plucking the sheets as he lay in his great four- 
 poster, and propping himself on an elbow on his embroidered 
 pillow, as he answered the objectionable arguments. The King's 
 honour, he said, rested upon the fleet, which would be ruined if 
 money were not forthcoming. If the Commons were absent 
 from their places, it was their own fault. 
 
 So the two men, who had at one time been close friends, 
 argued one against the other, and, as in many arguments, each 
 was convinced of his righteousness. So the conference ended in 
 mere words. 
 
 Buckingham carried out his intention, and one of his most 
 trusted subordinates in the Admiralty — Sir John Coke — rose in 
 his place to make the demand for the subsidies. To the 
 
240 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 astonished members sitting in a desert of nearly empty benches, 
 he let a very big black cat out of the bag. ^293,000, he said, 
 would be needed for the fleet in preparation ; and to support 
 the armies of our allies, Mansfeld — and the King of Denmark, 
 ^270,000 would be needed annually for each. After a wordy 
 defence of his policy and an appeal for Parliamentary aid, he 
 ended by the sonorous statement that " even the establishment 
 of his Majesty on his royal throne, the peace of Christendom, 
 the state of religion, depend upon the fleet." 
 
 All such words were hardly heard. But only the astounding 
 figures seemed to stare the members in the face in blood-red 
 letters. They were scared and silent. They would neither 
 support nor oppose Sir John Coke's appeal, and he, equally 
 startled by the effect of his words, and by this ominous amaze- 
 ment expressed on the faces before him, sat down after a few 
 vague words of patriotic eloquence, meaning nothing. No vote 
 was taken, and no subsidy passed. Buckingham's daring coup 
 had failed, and a few days later the House was prorogued until 
 August 1st at Oxford. 
 
 During the interval, Buckingham was realizing only too 
 painfully the difficulty of carrying out a war policy with an 
 ally so selfish and astute as the French Government under the 
 rule of Richelieu ; and he was now faced with an engagement 
 which was exceedingly dangerous to his reputation. At the end 
 of the last reign, while the French treaty was in progress, James, 
 with the advice of Buckingham and his Privy Council, agreed 
 to lend a number of ships to the French Government to be 
 employed against Genoa, France being at war with Italy. 
 The fulfilment of this pledge was now demanded by Louis, 
 but it was obviously intended to use them against the Protestant 
 rebels of Rochelle. Buckingham postponed sending the vessels 
 as long as he dared without risking the alliance, but at length 
 despatched the Vanguard, of the Royal Navy, with seven great 
 merchant ships under the command of Captain John Pennington, 
 who was, however, secretly instructed not to hand them over to 
 the French if he could by any convenient excuse, even to the 
 extent of inciting a mutiny among his men, avoid this action. 
 The English seamen hardly needed an encouragement to rebel. 
 When they learnt that they were called upon to proceed against 
 Rochelle, they broke out into a great tumult, and, swearing that 
 
THE EARLY DAYS OF CHARLES I 241 
 
 they would rather be hanged than surrender the ships or fight 
 against their fellow-Protestants, they raised anchor and set 
 sail again for the English Channel.* The Marquis de Rohan 
 then sent ambassadors from Rochelle to beseech Charles not to 
 lend the ships for service against them, and received favourable 
 replies. But Charles and Buckingham were conducting secret 
 correspondence with France of a critical character, and being 
 given to believe that the French King had decided to effect a 
 truce with the rebellious Rochellois, gave their conscience a rest, 
 and sent new instructions to Pennington to return immediately 
 with the Vanguard and the merchant ships, and to place them 
 unreservedly at the disposal of the French ministers. Pen- 
 nington obeyed his instructions, and sailed for Dieppe, but to 
 a man the captains, masters, and crews of the vessels declined 
 to serve under the French flag, and with the exception of 
 one gunner, who was disabled by an explosion, left their ships. 
 Pennington returned with the news to Buckingham when the 
 English Parliament had reassembled at Oxford, the plague still 
 continuing in London. But although he went into hiding, so it 
 was rumoured, until the Parliament had dissolved, the story 
 reached them from other sources, and so exasperated the 
 Commons against the Duke, that they questioned his conduct 
 and honour, and the whole course of his foreign policy, with a 
 boldness of language that was exceedingly ominous and threaten- 
 ing. They asked some very pertinent questions. By what 
 Council was the war designed ? Who and where was the 
 enemy ? Were the ships employed against Rochelle paid for 
 by Parliamentary subsidies ? Did not the Duke, in breaking 
 the match with Spain, make a worse match with France ? 
 
 Buckingham condescended to answer these questions, but in 
 a vague and careless manner, which did not at all satisfy his 
 opponents. The war policy, he said, was initiated and designed 
 by a council consisting of " such worthy persons " as Lord 
 Conway, Lord Chichester, Lord Grandison, Sir Robert Mansel, 
 and Sir John Cook. As for the enemy, " make the fleet ready to 
 go out " [by granting a further subsidy], " and the King bids you 
 name the Enemy yourselves ; put the Sword into his majesty's 
 hands, and he will improve it to your honour." To the third 
 question he answered that the ships were paid for by the 
 
 * Rushworth. 
 R 
 
242 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 French King, and " it is not always fit for Kings to give an 
 account of their counsels ; judge the King by the event. As 
 regards the French match being worse than the Spanish, I 
 hope," he said, " that the contrary will appear," showing after 
 this extraordinary oration, which was not so much a defence as 
 a defiance of the right of the Commons to call in question the 
 policy of the King and his ministers. Parliament was dissolved, 
 still without an additional war subsidy having been granted. 
 Charles was now in desperate need of money to carry out the 
 Duke's scheme, and the comptroller of the household was 
 ordered to issue letters under the Privy Seal to obtain forced 
 loans from private individuals for the public service. At the 
 same time Buckingham, at enormous expense which still further 
 drained the Treasury, kept the fleet ready for action, though he 
 was still undecided as to its objective. 
 
 At a Council of War, Lisbon and Cadiz were discussed as 
 the most effective points of attack, but it was resolved to leave 
 the decision to the " Generalissimo," or, as he would be called, 
 the Admiral of the Fleet. Buckingham had intended to take 
 command himself, but a project was now on foot for him to go to 
 the Hague to form a closer alliance with the Dutch Netherlands. 
 It was, therefore, decided to give the command of the fleet to 
 one of his favourites, Sir Edward Cecil, who was raised to the 
 rank of Viscount Wimbledon, with the Earl of Essex as vice- 
 admiral. Cecil was a brave man, not without ability as a 
 soldier, but utterly without experience at sea. Essex was also 
 a gallant soldier, and as the son of Elizabeth's Essex, had 
 inherited great traditions, but he was no more at home on the 
 sea than Cecil himself. Even with good ships, and good fighting 
 men under their command, it is doubtful whether great deeds 
 would have been done ; but the ships were ill equipped, and 
 the men " land-lubbers " pressed into the navy against their 
 will, and of low character. Nor were the junior officers of the 
 fleet remarkable for ability. Picked by Buckingham because 
 they were his flatterers, or the friends of his flatterers, they were 
 so obviously inefficient and inexperienced that Cecil himself 
 protested that he dared not trust them. 
 
 " Nevertheless, in September of 1625, the King and Bucking- 
 ham went down in high spirits to the port to review the fleet 
 which, with resolute optimism, they both believed would bring 
 
THE EARLY DAYS OF CHARLES I 243 
 
 glory to the English nation and silence the scoffers and slan- 
 derers who were murmuring against the war. They were, 
 indeed, murmuring somewhat loudly at the time against Buck- 
 ingham himself, and his withdrawal from the personal command 
 of the fleet was a fresh cause of complaint. 
 
 Lord Cromwell, who was always plain-spoken, took it upon 
 himself to bring to the Duke's ears the echoes of the public 
 opinion in a very candid letter. 
 
 " Much discourse there is of your Lordship here and there," 
 he wrote, " as I passed home and back. . . . All men say if 
 you go not with the Fleet you shall suffer in it, because, if it 
 prosper, it will be thought no act of yours, and if it succeed ill 
 they say it might have been better had not you guided the 
 King. They say your undertakings in the kingdom will much 
 prejudice your Grace." 
 
 Early in October the fleet, consisting of eighty sail, great 
 and small, with Viscount Wimbledon on the Crown-Royal, and 
 Lord Essex on the Swiftsure, left Plymouth, and made for the 
 Spanish coast. Essex, the leader, or Cecil (as he is more familiarly 
 known), calling a council on his flagship, determined to strike 
 at Cadiz by landing in a small bay between that town and San 
 Lucar. But whatever plans he made were frustrated by the 
 inefficiency, cowardice, and insubordination of his men. The 
 ships were insufficiently victualled, and what food they had was 
 bad. Half starving, therefore, they broke into open mutiny, and 
 would not follow Essex, who made a dash for Cadiz Bay in the 
 Swiftsure with Willoughby, who implored them to maintain the 
 honour of their country. Later on they got out the wine-casks 
 at a little place called Fort Puntal, and wild orgies took place 
 among the famished men. It was impossible for Cecil and 
 Essex to undertake the bombardment of Cadiz with such a 
 fleet, and they now decided to put to sea again with the hope 
 of capturing the Spanish plate-ship expected from Mexico. 
 Memories of the famous exploits of Drake no doubt inspired 
 this plan, and Cecil hoped, by bringing back this rich prize, to 
 redeem, to some extent, the frightful disaster and dishonour of 
 his expedition. But he was no Drake, and the Spanish mer- 
 chantmen had grown wary. They slipped past the English 
 fleet into the safe shelter of Cadiz harbour, and, after vainly 
 watching for them, Cecil, with despair in his heart, hoisted the 
 
244 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 signal for home. It was a deplorable home-coming. Battered 
 by storms, rotting with old age, with foul hulls, broken spars, 
 and tattered sails, with stinking food on board, and disease rife 
 among his men, the ships straggled in one by one to any port 
 they could make, and Buckingham in England learned that 
 another of his great hopes had been shattered. 
 
 It was a terrible blow to him, and gave his enemies cause to 
 attack his reputation with increased hostility. Yet he could 
 admit no fault in himself, and indeed one may find excuses for 
 him. That the spirit of Drake and Raleigh and Hawkins had 
 died with them was not a guiltiness in him. That the men 
 were cowardly and mutinous was not to his dishonour. He was 
 not to blame because the Mexican fleet had slipped by in safety. 
 So he argued, and we may allow him the cold comfort. Yet 
 there were many things for which he must be blamed. As Lord 
 Admiral of England, the condition of his fleet was a disgrace. 
 It was his responsibility that the victuals were rotten, though 
 crime was done by villainous contractors. His appointment of 
 the commanding officers had been wanting in judgment. These 
 things cannot be condoned by his biographer, and they were 
 not overlooked by his contemporaries. 
 
 While the English fleet had been causing its own ruin, many 
 important things had been happening in England, and Bucking- 
 ham had been expending an enormous amount of energy in new 
 diplomatic schemes, with high hopes of victorious news from the 
 Lords Wimbledon and Essex. As already mentioned, he had 
 agreed with Charles to cross over to Holland for the purpose of 
 forming a strong Protestant alliance with the Dutch Netherlands 
 and with Denmark and Sweden. It was a sound policy. The 
 ambassadors of the United Provinces, who owed a great debt to 
 English volunteers, were not loth to enter into a league with us 
 against Austria and Spain, and both the King of Denmark and 
 Gustavus of Sweden were anxious for English aid. Their 
 interests were bound up with ours. They were indeed our 
 natural allies, and if James and Charles had from the beginning 
 sought an alliance and a wife in this direction, instead of enter- 
 ing into worthless and dishonourable treaties with nations 
 opposed in politics and faith to our own, many disasters would 
 have been avoided. But Buckingham had another hope which 
 was founded on false reckoning. He believed that, in spite of 
 
THE EARLY DAYS OF CHARLES I 245 
 
 the increasingly strained relations between England and France, 
 his personal influence at the Court of Louis would be sufficient 
 to effect a reconciliation, and that, as the leader of a great 
 Protestant federation of fiations, he could induce Louis to join 
 in a combined attack upon Spain and her allies, in order to avoid 
 the danger of complete isolation in Europe. He did not take 
 into account the fidelity of France to the Catholic faith, nor the 
 possibility that for the sake of their faith and its security in 
 Europe, France and Spain might settle their political differences 
 and enter into a defensive alliance against the new Protestant 
 confederacy. Buckingham also forgot, strangely enough, the 
 unpardonable insult he had given to Louis in his mad amour 
 with the French Queen. As soon as Louis heard that the Duke 
 proposed to cross over to Paris after his visit to the Hague, he 
 sent word by Blainville, a new ambassador then starting for 
 England, that he would not permit Buckingham to enter his 
 kingdom. Blainville, upon his arrival in London, does not seem 
 to have delivered this message so bluntly as it was given, but 
 he gave the Duke to understand that his proposal for the King 
 of France to enter a Protestant federation was certain to be 
 rejected. Louis was, however, prepared to support Mansfeld's 
 army and the King of Denmark with money and arms, pro- 
 vided Charles kept his pledges to allow liberty to the English 
 Catholics. Buckingham was more inclined than Charles to 
 enter into friendly discussions with the French ambassador. 
 The King was in a state of prickly heat against France and the 
 French, chiefly owing to the troubles of his domestic life. 
 Henrietta Maria, disappointed by her husband's broken promises 
 towards the Catholics in England, and by his constantly 
 expressed annoyance towards her French household, had 
 entrenched herself behind her clergy and attendants, and was 
 by no means the loving and dutiful wife which Charles had 
 expected. He threatened to pack all her people back to France, 
 and was excessively annoyed with the new ambassador for 
 taking the Queen's part in these domestic differences. 
 
 Buckingham, however, with his usual optimism, faced all 
 these troubles with equanimity, and prepared for his mission to 
 the Hague. Before going, he executed vengeance upon one of 
 those men whom he had raised to favour, and now accused of 
 ingratitude and disloyalty. This was none other than the Lord 
 
246 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Keeper Williams, the astute, worldly minded, but common- 
 sense clergyman who had helped to smooth over the difficulties 
 of his marriage, whose advice over the patents and monopolies 
 had rescued Buckingham from imminent danger, and who, as a 
 counsellor, had been constantly prudent and zealous in the 
 service of James and his Favourite. To Charles, who was 
 becoming closely under the influence of Laud and his Anglican 
 doctrines, Williams, with his broad and easy views of theology, 
 was not congenial. And both the King and Buckingham were 
 deeply incensed by the openly expressed objections of the Lord 
 Keeper to the war policy which had exhausted the Treasury 
 and lost the confidence of Parliament and the people. 
 
 The Great Seal had been placed in his hands by James on a 
 three years' probation, and, as this term of office had now 
 expired, Charles used this opportunity to dismiss him. Though 
 Williams had incautiously boasted that he could stand upon his 
 own legs without the assistance of Buckingham, now, in the 
 hour of his disgrace, he turned to the Duke with a piteous 
 appeal for mercy. But he sued to Buckingham in vain, and the 
 Great Seal passed to Thomas Coventry, the Attorney-General, 
 whose strong Protestantism and hatred of Spain were agreeable 
 at that time to the temper of the King and the Duke. It was 
 another proof that no man might speak against Buckingham 
 with impunity. "The Duke's power with the King," wrote a 
 correspondent to Wentworth, "for certain is exceeding great, 
 and whom he will advance shall be advanced, and whom he 
 doth but frown upon must be thrown down." 
 
 With this matter settled, and with Coventry using his new 
 office to enforce the penal laws against the English Catholics 
 with unusual severity, Buckingham set out for the Hague with 
 the Earl of Holland as his companion and joint-ambassador. 
 A storm scattered the ships acting as a convoy to the Lord 
 Admiral, but after a dangerous passage the two ambassadors 
 came safely to land. Buckingham's magnificence, as usual, 
 dazzled the eyes of the people, but the congress of ambassadors 
 representing the Dutch Republic, Denmark, and Sweden, which 
 he expected to meet him, did not assemble in full strength. 
 The Swedish ambassador had just died, the Prince of Orange 
 held aloof, and the Danish ministers were the chief members 
 present at the sittings. They had but one purpose, to extract 
 
THE EARLY DAYS OF CHARLES I 247 
 
 money from England in order to carry on the war against 
 Austria ; and although Buckingham had come with the inten- 
 tion of reducing the original offer of £30,000 a month as the 
 price of the alliance, he now found it necessary to pledge him- 
 self to that enormous sum, in order to prevent Denmark from 
 yielding to the Austrians through pressure of poverty. He had 
 still heard no news from Cadiz, and he had golden visions of 
 captured Spanish galleons and glorious victories which would 
 replenish the Treasury. He could afford to be generous ! 
 
 Buckingham's generosity was that of a prodigal who, setting 
 out to pawn his watch to pay a debt, gives all the money in his 
 pocket to a beggar. The simile is permissible, because one of 
 the Duke's reasons in coming to Holland was actually to pawn 
 the Crown jewels of England. Charles, in his desperate need 
 of funds to carry on the war, had hit upon this plan to raise 
 ready money. The jewels were worth an enormous sum, and it 
 was probable that the Jews of Amsterdam would advance at 
 least their usual percentage on the value of such securities. But 
 the Jews of Amsterdam were cautious. In the case of such a 
 pledge not being redeemed in the time allowed, it would not be 
 permissible to break up the Regalia of the English King, and 
 they could not squeeze him like an ordinary Christian. The 
 business was not in their line, and they declined to make an 
 offer. 
 
 Buckingham, after twenty days at the Hague, succeeded in 
 getting the signatures of Denmark and the States General to a 
 Treaty, engaging them to a Protestant alliance with England to 
 continue the war against Spain and Austria ; and he now pro- 
 posed to carry out his plan to cross to Frande and lay siege 
 to Louis and his ministers. But he had received letters from 
 Charles which showed that his irritation against the French 
 household of the Queen was reaching a crisis which, if he had 
 his way, would certainly cause great anger to the French King. 
 
 " Steenie " (he wrote), 
 
 "I writt to you by Ned Clarke* that I thought I 
 would have cause enough in short time to put away this mousers 
 [' mounseers '] in short time, either by attempting to steal 
 
 * One of Buckingham's confidential servants, and the same who in disguise carried 
 the letter to Bristol, ordering him to postpone the delivery of the marriage proxies. 
 
248 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 away my wife, or by making plots with my own subjects; For 
 the first I cannot say certainly whether it was intended, but I 
 am sure it is hindered ; for the other, though I have good 
 grounds to believe it, and am still hunting after it, yet seeing 
 daily the maliciousness of the mousers by making and foment- 
 ing discontentments in my wife, I could tarie no longer from 
 advertising of you that I mean to seek no other grounds to 
 cashier my mousers, having for this purpose sent you this letter 
 that you may, if you think good, advertise the Queen Mother 
 with my intention, for this being an action that may have a sort 
 of harshness, I thought it was fit to take this way, that she to 
 whom I have had many obligations may not take it unkindly, 
 and likeways I think I have done you no wrong in my letter, 
 though in some place of it I may seem to chide you. I pray 
 you send me word with what speed you may, whether you like 
 this course or not, for I shall put nothing of this in execution 
 while [until] I hear from you : in the mean time I shall think 
 of the convenient means to do this business with the best mind. 
 But I am resolute ; it must be done, and that shortly. So 
 longing to see thee, I rest, 
 
 " Your loving, faithful, 
 
 " constant friend, 
 
 "Charles R. 
 
 " Hampton Court 
 
 " The lath of Nov., 1625." 
 
 But Buckingham was unable to present the letter enclosed 
 with his own to the Queen-Mother, because, upon mentioning 
 this proposed journey to the French ambassador at the Hague, 
 he was now told quite bluntly that King Louis would not 
 permit him to enter his kingdom until the promises given in 
 the marriage treaty had been properly fulfilled. Buckingham, 
 therefore, abandoned his journey to France for the time being 
 (though he did not by. any means give up the idea entirely), and 
 hastened back to England with the Treaty of the Hague in his 
 pocket. He was, on the whole, well satisfied with the result of 
 his embassy, and believed that when the news of English victories 
 at sea came home, he would be able to face a new Parliament 
 with assurance, and with a confident appeal for new subsidies 
 to continue his successes. 
 
THE EARLY DAYS OF CHARLES I 249 
 
 Alas! the first news that reached him when he landed in 
 England was the utter failure of Cecil and Essex, and the 
 disasters that had befallen the English fleet. To any other 
 man but Buckingham it would have been an overwhelming 
 blow. But, though it must have staggered him, he carried his 
 head high, and did not show any sign of faltering in his purpose. 
 Such courage and optimism would have been magnificent in a 
 man of greater genius ; they are often the qualities which build 
 success out of disaster. But Buckingham's heart was greater 
 than his head, and he was singularly lacking, not only in fore- 
 sight which sees the result of a certain line of policy, but in 
 administrative genius which pays attention to small details and 
 to the drudgery by which alone great plans are matured and 
 brought to great issues. 
 
 Upon his return to Court after his brief absence,' he found 
 that the King's domestic life was becoming more and more 
 unhappy on account of the Queen's habit of sulking among her 
 French people, and a fresh cause of annoyance now added fuel 
 to the fire in the King's heart. He had decided that his corona- 
 tion, which had been long postponed on account of the plague, 
 should take place before the opening of a new Parliament, 
 which had now been summoned. He naturally expected that 
 the Queen would take part in his solemn consecration, but to 
 his profound dissatisfaction he learnt that, upon the advice of 
 her clergy, she objected to join in a Protestant ceremony. The 
 French King, upon being appealed to, upheld his sister's decision, 
 and maintained that she could only attend if the Protestant 
 clergy were absent. That, of course, was an impossible con- 
 dition, and when, on the 2nd of February, Charles proceeded 
 to his throne at Westminster, the Queen's empty chair reminded 
 him bitterly of the great gulf that existed between him and his 
 wife. But he was cheered somewhat by the heartiness with 
 which his people greeted him and hailed him King. In spite 
 of all political discontent in the nation, Charles himself was not 
 unpopular, and Buckingham alone was held responsible for all 
 the disasters and troubles of the time. Sir Symonds D'Ewes, 
 who was present at the coronation, tells a curious little anecdote 
 about the King and Buckingham, which, though of trivial 
 importance at the time, seemed to have had an ominous mean- 
 ing in the light of events that followed. 
 
250 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 " There was," he wrote, " a wooden scaffold set up in West- 
 minster Hall, upon which some ceremonies were to be performed 
 before the coronation, which was afterwards to be solemnly 
 officiated in the quire of Westminster Church. I stood at the 
 lower end of the stairs of the scaffold when the King and George 
 Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, came, close together, to ascend 
 the steps. The Duke, who went close by me, put forth his right 
 hand to have taken the King by the left arm, and to have 
 assisted him in his ascending ; at which His Highness at an 
 instant got his left hand under the! Duke's right arm, and, 
 whether he would or not, led him up the stairs, saying, ' I have 
 more need to help you than you have to help me ; : which speech 
 I the rather thought upon when the said Duke, being questioned 
 in the Parliament ensuing for his life, the King, to prevent his 
 further danger, made an abortive dissolution of that great 
 assembly." 
 
 It is possible that the ceremony of Coronation had inspired 
 Charles with a desire to assert his sovereign will more inde- 
 pendently, but whether this was the cause or no, it is certain 
 that in his relations with France from this date, and for some 
 months afterwards, Charles took the reins out of Buckingham's 
 hands (though not through any unfriendliness or want of con- 
 fidence in the Duke), and rode at .tilt against his brother-in-law, 
 Louis of France. Buckingham was all for conciliation, and, 
 waiving for a time his desire to go as ambassador extraordinary 
 to Paris, sent the Earl of Holland and Sir Dudley Carleton, 
 who had formerly been minister at the Hague, to settle the 
 differences that had arisen between the two Courts. Holland, 
 with his charming manners and easy temper, and Carleton, with 
 his cautious and shrewd talent for diplomacy, were the right men 
 to smooth over outstanding difficulties. But Charles sent them 
 dispatches couched in such unreasonable terms that they had 
 to adopt, against their will, a hostile attitude towards Richelieu's 
 offers of compromise, and when they accepted certain terms on 
 their own authority, Charles repudiated their concessions and 
 forced their hands by new and stringent instructions. 
 
 There were several causes of complaint on the side of France. 
 In the first place, Charles had not kept his pledges in the 
 marriage treaty, either in regard to the Queen's liberty of 
 worship and the status of her household, or as regards religious 
 
HENRIETTA MARIA OF FRANCE, QUEEN OF ENOLAXD 
 
 FROM A PORTRAIT IJY VANUYCK 
 
THE EARLY DAYS OF CHARLES I 251 
 
 toleration generally in England. In the second place, there had 
 been trouble on both sides over the capture of merchant vessels 
 carrying Spanish contraband of war. French ships had been 
 seized and taken as prizes to Plymouth, and the French had 
 retaliated by capturing English vessels. In some cases the 
 English had been justified in their action, but in some others 
 the ships seized had not carried contraband, and Louis had 
 demanded their release in vain. In the third place, Louis 
 accused Charles of intervening in the domestic politics of 
 France in a manner which no proud nature could tolerate. 
 The Protestants of Rochelle were still in revolt against their 
 King, who had not agreed to their terms of surrender, and the 
 English ships, which had been lent for another purpose, were 
 being used against Rochelle. Louis was prepared to make peace 
 with his rebellious subjects in the interests of peace within his 
 own nation, but he was not at all willing to do so at the dicta- 
 tion of the English, and he deeply resented the attitude adopted 
 by Charles, who, while pressing him in a dictatorial manner to 
 grant religious liberty to his French Protestants, was making 
 more stringent the penal laws against English Catholics. 
 The rashness and arrogance of Buckingham were now sur- 
 passed by the rashness and arrogance of Charles. Rejecting 
 the assurances which Louis had, in the interests of peace, given 
 upon certain conditions to the two ambassadors at his Court, 
 and refusing to fulfil the pledges he had given as to the Queen's 
 household and religious toleration in England, he demanded a 
 written agreement by which the French Government should 
 make peace with Rochelle, himself being nominated as the 
 arbitrator and defender of the Rochellois. He also threatened 
 that if the English ships were not returned he would send a 
 fleet to Rochelle to bring them back by force. Buckingham, of 
 course, did not oppose Charles in this manner of dealing with 
 the French diplomatic overtures, and naturally his temper with 
 Louis and his ministers was in harmony with that of the 
 King, because he had been grievously vexed with the failure 
 of his great dream of an effective military alliance with France. 
 But he still had hopes that France would be useful to him, and, 
 realizing to some extent, at least, the enormous responsibilities 
 on his shoulders already, was, at this period, anxious to avoid 
 an absolute breach with France. To Blainville, the French 
 
252 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 ambassador in London, he was, therefore, less stiff-necked than 
 Charles, but personal amiability could not check the tide of cir- 
 cumstance upon which the nation was inevitably drifting towards 
 a war with France, in addition to war with Spain and Austria. 
 
 Such was the political atmosphere, charged with dangerous 
 electricity, and full of portents and ill , omens, in which the 
 second Parliament of Charles assembled at Westminster in 
 February of 1626. 
 
 The King's speech from the throne was brief and without 
 significance, and Lord Keeper Coventry, who followed him, 
 said nothing about the relations of England with foreign 
 powers, nor a word about the need of money to carry on the 
 war. Rudyard, a creature of the Court, who then spoke, was 
 equally mysterious in his reticence on subjects which dominated 
 the mind of every patriotic Englishman. But when Sir John 
 Coke rose to his feet, it was to come to the only reason for 
 which ' Charles had summoned the national assembly. He 
 proposed, though in a vague and guarded manner, that the 
 Commons should proceed to grant supplies. As soon as he sat 
 down, Sir John Eliot, -who had been the friend of Buckingham, 
 who was a moderate man, a patriot, and no fanatic, stood in 
 his place, and the speech which then came passionately from 
 his soul and kindled his lips with fire, echoed afterwards in the 
 hearts of the English people. He demanded that the inquiry 
 into past disasters should precede the granting of immediate 
 supplies. As he went on to give his reasons, his words came 
 fast and were winged with a kind of soaring eloquence. 
 
 " Sir," he cried, " I beseech you cast your eyes about ! View 
 the state we are in ! Consider the loss we have received ! 
 Weigh the wrecked and ruined honour of our nation ! 0, 
 the incomparable hopes of our most excellent Sovereign 
 checked in their first design ! Search the preparation. Examine 
 the going forth. Let your wisdom travel through the whole 
 action, to discern the fault, to know the faulty. For I presume 
 to say, though no man undertook it, you would find the ancient 
 genius of this nation rise up to the accuser. Is the reputation 
 and glory of our nation of a small value ? Are the walls and 
 bulwarks of our kingdom of no esteem ? Are the numberless 
 lives of our lost men not to be regarded ? I know it cannot so 
 harbour in an English thought. Our honour is ruined, our 
 
THE EARLY DAYS OF CHARLES I 253 
 
 ships are sunk, our men perished ; not by the sword, not by the 
 enemy, not by chance, but, as the strongest predictions had 
 discerned and made it apparent beforehand, by those we trust. 
 Sir, I would lose myself in the complaint, the miseries, the 
 calamities, which our western parts have both seen, and still 
 feel, they strike so strong an apprehension on me." 
 
 This was not the speech of a private member of Parliament 
 in political argument. It was the voice of the English people. 
 It expressed the terrors, the shame, the despair of a great 
 nation. It was not wrathful. It was a cry for help, that " the 
 ancient genius of the kingdom " might again be enthroned. 
 And though it did not mention one man's name, one name was 
 written in flaming letters upon the wall as the agent of 
 England's misery — George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. 
 In the days that followed, the finger of fate pointed at Bucking- 
 ham. In committee the House considered the protest of 
 France against the seizure of the "St. Peter," of Havre de 
 Grace — ignorant as they were of the real relations between 
 France and England— and it seemed to show that Buckingham 
 had refused to restore it for reasons of private advantage. 
 Heath, the new Attorney-General, and one of Buckingham's 
 men, disproved this suspicion to the satisfaction of a small 
 majority of the House, but this did not whitewash his patron, 
 who, as the responsible minister for a succession of disasters, 
 seemed to the Commons as black as night itself. They still 
 refused to vote supplies, and demanded an inquiry into the 
 council and conduct of war. It was an unconstitutional de- 
 mand, and the King refused it upon the advice of Heath. In 
 the meanwhile, Pembroke in the House of Peers was urging the 
 necessity of granting subsidies for continuance of the war and 
 for the honour of England, and on the ioth of March Sir 
 Richard Weston asked the Commons to vote the money without 
 ado, so that the enemy might not triumph. 
 
 A voice in the Commons replied to Weston by flinging out 
 a bitter taunt aimed at Buckingham, though still that name 
 was not openly spoken. It was the voice of " Clem Coke," 
 the quarrelsome son of old Coke, the famous Lord Chief 
 Justice. " It is better," he said, " to die by an enemy than 
 to suffer at home." He was followed by a man of no previous 
 reputation, named Dr. Turner, who now dared to accuse 
 
254 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Buckingham by name, and by questions of terrible directness. 
 They were put in the following form : — 
 
 (i) Whether the Duke, being Admiral, be not the cause of 
 the loss of the King's Royalty in the narrow seas? 
 
 (2) Whether the unreasonable, exorbitant, and immense 
 gifts of money and lands bestowed on the Duke and his kindred 
 be not the cause of impairing the King's Revenue and im- 
 poverishing the Crown ? 
 
 (3) Whether the multiplicity of offices conferred upon the 
 Duke and others depending upon him (whereof they were not 
 capable) be not the cause of the evil Government of this 
 Kingdom ? 
 
 (4) Whether recusants in general, by a kind of connivancy, 
 be not born out and increased by reason of the Duke's mother 
 and father-in-law being known Papists ? 
 
 (5) Whether the sale of honours, offices, and places of judi- 
 cature, and ecclesiastical livings and promotions (a scandal and 
 hurt to the Kingdom) be not through the Duke ? 
 
 (6) Whether the Duke's staying at home, being Admiral and 
 General in the Fleet of the Sea and Land Army, were not the 
 cause of the bad success and overthrow of that action, and 
 whether he did give good direction for that design ? * 
 
 Charles was deeply incensed by this attack upon his friend 
 and Minister, and by Sir Richard Weston sent down a stern 
 message to the House commenting upon the seditious speech of 
 Clem Coke, and the still more offensive accusations of Dr. 
 Turner. "This, his Majesty saith, is such an example that he 
 can by no means suffer, though it were to make enquiry into the 
 meanest of his servants, much less against one so near unto 
 himself." The King therefore called upon the House to do 
 justice against the offenders. 
 
 The Commons were so little daunted by the King's anger 
 that Sir W. Walters, speaking on the following Monday, declared 
 that the cause of all their grievances was that " all the King's 
 Council rides upon one horse," and followed this statement with 
 a speech aimed at Buckingham, though without alluding to him 
 by name. Sir John Eliot then continued the debate, and less 
 passionately, but more bitterly than in his first great speech, 
 surveyed the state of the country, and hinted plainly at 
 
 • Rushworth's "Historical Collections," 1682. 
 
THE EARLY DAYS OF CHARLES I 255 
 
 Buckingham's responsibility. With regard to the war which 
 had led to such disasters, " This great design," he said, " was 
 fixed upon the person of the Lord-General, who had the whole 
 command by sea and land. And can this great general think it 
 sufficient to put in his deputy and stay at home ? " Then turn- 
 ing to the course of the war in Germany and the calamity to 
 the English troops under Mansfeld, he said, "We know well 
 who had then the King's ear." More daring later in his speech, 
 he recalled two other King's favourites, Hubert de Burgh, under 
 Henry III., and the Earl of Suffolk, under Richard II., both of 
 whom had been called in question by Parliament before supplies 
 would be granted. After a bitter allusion to the attempt to 
 pawn the Crown jewels, Eliot concluded his speech by support- 
 ing a motion for the grant of "three subsidies and three- 
 fifteenths," which he submitted was all they could vote in the 
 circumstances, though they might increase the supplies "upon 
 just occasions." 
 
 To Buckingham, Eliot's behaviour in the Parliament must 
 have seemed black-hearted treason to their old friendship. He 
 could never tolerate even the mildest criticism from those with 
 whom he was on terms of intimacy. After his rise to fortune, 
 he had so many enemies eager to stab his reputation that his 
 nature was always on guard, and he was too ready to charge an 
 outspoken friend with disloyalty and ingratitude. Until the 
 meeting of the new House of Commons, Eliot had not been 
 openly in opposition. But now, after this bitter speech, he must 
 be reckoned with as a viper whom Buckingham had nourished 
 in his bosom. Lucky for him that he was a Parliament man, 
 and not an officer of State. If he had not been protected by 
 the liberties of the Commons, Buckingham would have put his 
 heel upon Eliot's neck and crushed him to his mother-earth. 
 
 Charles had cause to be profoundly disturbed. This attack 
 on Buckingham was a challenge to himself, for Buckingham's 
 policy was his own, and every action, every negotiation with 
 foreign powers, every pledge and promise of his Minister had 
 been with his, the King's, authority and cognisance. His repu- 
 tation was therefore bound up with Buckingham's, and he could 
 not suffer the Commons to use words which, by accusing his 
 friend of dishonour, contained high treason towards his own 
 person and sovereign power. 
 
256 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 With a determination not to suffer the insolence (as it 
 seemed to him) of a disorderly assembly, Charles summoned 
 the Lords and Commons to Whitehall, and standing before them 
 with a cold and gloomy face, declared to the members of the 
 Lower House that he had called them there "to show them 
 their errors and their unparliamentary proceedings in this 
 Parliament." 
 
 It was the Lord Keeper Coventry who, by the King's com- 
 mand, spoke of his Majesty's cause for complaint. After 
 declaring the love Charles bore to his people, and his deter- 
 mination to be a just King and to listen to any grievances 
 presented to him in a dutiful way, he came to "the seditious 
 speeches " of Clement Cook and Dr. Turner, and of those who 
 had continued in their tone, and expressed the King's surprise 
 that his remonstrance had passed unheeded, and the offenders 
 unpunished. 
 
 " Concerning the Duke of Buckingham, his Majesty hath com- 
 manded me to tell you that himself doth know better than any 
 man living the sincerity of the Duke's proceedings ; with what 
 cautions of weight and discretion he hath been guided in his 
 public employments from his Majesty and his blessed Father ; 
 what enemies he hath procured at home and abroad ; what peril of 
 his person, and hazard of his estate he ran into for the service of 
 his Majesty and his ever-blessed Father ; and how forward he 
 hath been in the service of this House many times since his 
 return from Spain, and therefore his Majesty cannot believe 
 that the aim is at the Duke of Buckingham, but findeth that 
 these proceedings do directly wound the honour and judgment 
 of himself and of his father. It is therefore his Majesty's 
 express and final commandment that you yield obedience unto 
 those directions which you have formerly received, and cease 
 this unparliamentary inquisition, and commit unto his Majesty's 
 care and wisdom and justice the future reformation of those 
 things which you suppose should be otherwise than they should 
 be.* 
 
 Coventry then touched upon the grant of money voted by 
 the Commons, which the King, he said, considered altogether 
 inadequate for the safety and honour of the nation : " for his 
 Majesty cannot expect without better help, but that his allies 
 
 * Rushworth, 
 
THE EARLY DAYS OF CHARLES I 257 
 
 must presently disband and leave him alone to bear the fury 
 of a provoked and powerful enemy, so as both he and you shall 
 be unsafe at home, and ashamed and despised abroad." 
 
 Upon the conclusion of Coventry's speech, Charles again 
 addressed the Commons in person, and reminding the Lords 
 and Commons that the war had been entered upon at the advice 
 of " the whole body of Parliament," declared that '' then there 
 was nobody in so great favour with you as the man whom you 
 now seem to touch, but indeed my father's government and 
 mine." 
 
 Then he spoke words ominous of those dreadful differences 
 between the King and the Parliament, which in after-years 
 shook the very foundations of the nation, plunged England in a 
 bloody Civil War, and brought Charles to the tall scaffold in 
 Whitehall. 
 
 " Remember," he said, " that Parliaments are altogether in 
 my power for their calling, sitting, or dissolution ; therefore, as 
 I find the fruits of them good or evil, they are to continue or 
 not to be." 
 
 We do not know how this speech was received when the 
 words came clear and stern to the ears of the members. We 
 are not told of the dead silence and grave, resolute faces in the 
 State salon of Whitehall, nor of low and ominous murmurs. 
 But in the debate that followed the speeches of the King and the 
 Lord Keeper, the Commons turned the House into a Grand 
 Committee, and ordering the doors to be locked and that no 
 member should go forth, declared that all proceedings in all 
 other Committees would cease until the House came to a reso- 
 lution in the business. 
 
 At the Court, when this ominous temper of the Commons 
 was reported, there was uneasiness, something almost like fear. 
 Charles, reflecting upon his words, wondered whether he had 
 gone a little too far in thus chiding and challenging so plainly 
 the representatives of the people. He had read enough history 
 to know that an open rupture with Parliament had been dis- 
 astrous to more than one king. Buckingham proposed, or 
 accepted the task of smoothing down the angry feelings of the 
 Commons, by explaining the political situation with more frank- 
 ness and friendliness at a conference of both Houses in the 
 Painted Chamber. It was characteristic of him to believe that 
 
258 THE FIRST DUKtf OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 by the persuasiveness of his personality he could convert enemies 
 into friends, and it was a proof of his courage and self-confidence 
 that he could face the men who had demanded vengeance 
 against him with an easy affability that revealed no sign of 
 faltering or fear. His explanation, as it was called, was an 
 adroit and subtle piece of special pleading. One's admiration, 
 indeed, is stirred by the admirable tone of the speech, in which 
 he blended dignity with condescension and frankness with an 
 honourable pride. He appealed first to the patriotism of the 
 assembly and to their common sense. The honour of the nation 
 as well as its safety demanded the resolute prosecution of the 
 war. For that larger supplies were necessary than the Commons 
 had yet voted. 
 
 " As it was a good rule to fear all things and nothing, and 
 to be liberal was sometimes thrifty ; so in this particular, if you 
 give largely you shall carry the war to the enemy's door, and 
 keep that peace at home that hath been ; whereas, on the con- 
 trary, if you draw the war at home, it brings with it nothing but 
 disturbance and fear, all courses of justice stopped, and each 
 man's revenue lessened, and nothing that can be profitable." 
 Thus in a modest yet confident way he turned to his own 
 actions, and defended himself with a kind of careless desire to 
 be well in the opinion of his accusers, as he was satisfied with 
 his own conscience. " I wish my heart and actions were known 
 to you all," he said, " then I assure myself you would resume me 
 to your good opinions." 
 
 Whatever actions he had done, he declared, had been with 
 the advice and authority of the Privy Council, and he called on 
 Lord Conway to bear him out in that statement, the proof of 
 which lay in the reports of the councils, which Lord Conway 
 had in his keeping. 
 
 He then explained in detail his recent negotiations at the 
 Hague, claiming credit for the Treaty which he had there pro- 
 cured. He declared that there was good hope of France joining 
 this federation, the policy of that nation being opposed to the 
 greatness of Austria and the pride of Spain. In that case, the 
 cost of the war to England would be much reduced. 
 
 Knowing as we do now the tone of the negotiations between 
 Charles and the French Court, Buckingham's sincerity in allud- 
 ing thus to the hope of a closer alliance with France may be 
 
THE EARLY DAYS OF CHARLES I 259 
 
 doubted. Yet not justly, for there is proof that the Duke was 
 convinced that all difficulties could still be overcome if he could 
 get to Paris and have friendly converse with Louis and his 
 ministers. 
 
 " If in any of these employments," he went on with more 
 emotion, " my errors may be shewed me, I shall take him for 
 my best friend that will manifest them in particular. I have 
 bent all my thoughts on nothing but my master's honour, the 
 service of the State, and the safety of them both. I never had 
 one end of my own, and that may be perceived and proved by 
 the expense of my own estate. I am ashamed to speak of it, 
 and it would become another man's tongue better than my own. 
 My journey into Spain was all at my own charge ; my journey 
 into France was at my master's charge ; my journey into the 
 Low Countries was all at my own charge." 
 
 He then defended his administration of the Admiralty, and, 
 speaking with honour and generosity of his " noble predecessor," 
 the Earl of Nottingham, protested that upon receiving the 
 office of Admiral, which he had accepted reluctantly, being 
 young and inexperienced, though for that reason ready, as he 
 always was, to be governed by advice, he had found the navy 
 weak, with few and unserviceable ships. Since then, acting 
 under the commission appointed over him, he had steadily 
 increased the strength of the fleet, though it had suffered from 
 shipwrecks, and there was at that present time many great 
 ships on the active list, provided at no more cost than was 
 possible. 
 
 He concluded with an appeal to the forbearance and 
 justice of his accusers. 
 
 " Gentlemen, it is no time to pick quarrels with one another ; 
 we have enemies enough already, and therefore more necessary 
 to be well united at home. 
 
 " Follow not examples, and least of all the examples of Gon- 
 domar and Iniosa, who would have had my head when you 
 thought me worthy of a salute. Now, though I confess there 
 may be some errors, I will not justify myself, — yet they are not 
 such gross defects as the world would make them appear. . . . 
 They are no errors of wilfulness, nor of corruption, nor oppress- 
 ing of the people, nor injustice, nor contrary ; and then, may 
 I say, for what good done by me do I suffer ? " 
 
260 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 His last words were not without a real eloquence, nor with- 
 out a high and chivalrous idealism, which, in spite of much that 
 was petty in his character, inspired this strange and complex 
 soul. 
 
 "Now, Gentlemen, you that were ancient Parliament-men 
 when this Council was first given, strive to make good your 
 own engagement, for the honour of your King and your own 
 safety. Let Religion, in which I would be glad to be more 
 watchful and industrious than any, unite your hearts both at 
 home and abroad ; and you that are young men, may in these 
 active times gain honour and reputation, which is almost 
 rank, and gain the ancient glory of your predecessors : and 
 remember it is for restoring to her inheritance the most 
 virtuous Lady and Saint in the world. I have nothing more, 
 but to entreat your charitable opinion of me and my actions." 
 
 To arrive at a right judgment upon Buckingham's character 
 we must consider his own estimate of his actions, and in his 
 speech, which has the ring of sincerity, we find his best defence. 
 Not a word of what he then said was deliberately or even 
 actually untrue. He was not corrupt, he had spent out of his 
 own fortune in the service of the State, he had always at heart 
 the honour of his King and country. He had done his best 
 to create a great navy, he had been industrious and active as 
 a war minister, he had never been influenced in any of his 
 public actions by base private interests or the greed of gold. 
 All this we must allow him ; but there still remains his responsi- 
 bility, shared equally by Charles, for the deplorable disasters 
 that had dogged all his actions, due, not to any corruption of 
 character, but to a rash temperament, an utter lack of political 
 foresight or wisdom, and the whole system of favouritism of 
 which he was the centre and fountain-head, which gave impor- 
 tant posts to men of inefficiency. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 THE IMPEACHMENT OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 THIS speech had not the slightest effect on the members of 
 the Lower House. Perhaps it brought home to them 
 the thought that the King and the Privy Council had been 
 equally guilty of the national disasters. But they could not 
 and did not desire to attack the King's majesty, and they 
 must have a victim with whom he had shared his responsi- 
 bility. Buckingham had been the moving spirit of these 
 things, and Buckingham must be dethroned. They went on 
 with the preparations for his impeachment, interrupted only by 
 a short recess. In the mean time it was made clear to them 
 that fresh folly was being brewed, or fresh miseries. Holland 
 and Carleton were recalled from France. Louis was resolved 
 not to accept the interference of a foreign power in his relations 
 with his own people, and he made more stringent demands for 
 the submission of the Rochellese. They, fearing now that the 
 liberty of their faith would be destroyed, appealed for aid from 
 Charles, and he promised to protect them against their own 
 King. The tide was drifting fast now towards the quick- 
 sands, and the thunderclouds of a new war loomed darkly up 
 before the gloomy vision of the English people. 
 
 There now stepped into the arena a man whom both the 
 King and Buckingham had most cause to fear, and the 
 challenge that he flung at the Duke was more dangerous than 
 the accusations in the Commons. This was Digby, Earl of 
 Bristol, who at this time had been in retirement, brooding over 
 his wrongs, waiting in vain for Charles to make him the amende 
 honorable, and to clear his reputation of charges which he 
 had not been allowed to defend by public trial. That trial he 
 now demanded of his peers, and seizing the opportunity of a 
 
 261 
 
262 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 time when Buckingham was awaiting impeachment, he accused 
 him of conspiracy against his (Bristol's) liberty and honour, 
 and of treasonable behaviour towards his King and country. 
 
 To the King and his minister the reappearance of Bristol 
 must have been like a horrid ghost arising from the dead past 
 with accusing voice. That voice could no longer be stifled, and 
 Charles, realizing that a deadly duel was inevitable, in which 
 his own honour would be at stake, decided to strike the first 
 blow. He therefore formally accused Bristol of high treason. 
 An extraordinary situation was now created. Bristol drew up 
 his charges against Buckingham, and the King and Buckingham 
 the indictment against Bristol, while the House of Commons, 
 postponing all other business, prepared the impeachment against 
 the Duke. 
 
 The King's case against Bristol was not a strong one, and 
 rested chiefly on the accusation that Bristol had used influence 
 to induce him to change his religion, and that, having more 
 regard for Spain than for England, he had disobeyed the King's 
 instructions, and had given false information and assurances by 
 which the King had been led astray. It was, indeed, owing to 
 false assurances that, as Prince, Charles had been induced to 
 take his " long and perilous journey into Spain, that thereby he 
 might speedily conclude those treaties, or perfectly discover that, 
 on the Emperor's and the King of Spain's part, there was no true 
 and real intention to bring the same to conclusion upon any fit 
 and honourable terms and conditions, and did absolutely and 
 speedily break them off." * In the last paragraph Charles accused 
 Bristol of having given him the lie direct by denying, and 
 offering to falsify the relation of the journey given to Parlia- 
 ment by Buckingham, which he, Charles himself, had con- 
 firmed. 
 
 To these charges Bristol made a powerful defence, and had 
 but little difficulty in proving his fidelity to the Protestant faith, 
 and his honour towards his country. Then he turned to the 
 conduct of the Duke of Buckingham and related the true story 
 of the manner in which, after his return from Spain, Bucking- 
 ham had conspired against his liberty of person and of speech. 
 He concluded by demanding that Buckingham, who was accused 
 of treason, and still at liberty, should be put into an equal 
 
 * Rushworth. 
 
THE IMPEACHMENT OF BUCKINGHAM 263 
 
 condition with himself, who was a prisoner. After this general 
 defence and challenge, Bristol was taken back into custody, and 
 his formal charges against the Duke were read out in the House 
 of Lords. He accused Buckingham of having conspired with 
 Gondomar and the Pope to induce Charles, then Prince of 
 Wales, to change his religion. That he had "nourished the 
 Spanish ministers, not only in the belief of his own being 
 popishly affected, but did (both by absenting himself from all 
 exercises of religion constantly used in the Earl of Bristol's 
 house, and frequented by all Protestant English, and by con- 
 forming himself to please the Spaniards in divers right of their 
 Religion even so far to kneel and adore their Sacrament) from 
 time to time give the Spaniards hope of the Prince his con- 
 version." Then, when through his insolent and outrageous 
 behaviour to the Spanish king and ministers he had made 
 agreement impossible, he endeavoured to break off the match, 
 " not for any service to the kingdom, nor dislike of the match 
 in itself, nor for that he found (as since he hath pretended) that 
 the Spaniards did not really intend the said match, but out of 
 his particular ends and his indignation." Bristol then accused 
 the Duke of lustful behaviour in Spain, by which he had done 
 dishonour to the English nation and the Prince, and had left 
 behind him much scandal in a foreign court. Finally, he accused 
 him of being the cause of the disasters of the Elector Palatine, 
 as far as the affairs of that prince had relation to this country. 
 
 It is a sad reflection upon human life that Charles, who was 
 in many ways a man of high ideals, and Bristol, who, in his 
 career as an ambassador, had been unswerving in honour, should 
 have solemnly written down charges which, if not blinded by 
 passion, they must have known to be false. Charles should 
 have known, and must in his secret heart have known, that 
 Bristol, though, in his opinion, guilty of indiscretion and obsti- 
 nacy, had never tampered with truth, and had never betrayed 
 his patriotism. And Bristol, on the other hand, though his 
 conscience was clear as to his own actions, distorted the facts in 
 his relation of Buckingham's conduct in Spain. He had a 
 right to accuse Buckingham of vanity and folly, of insolence 
 and arrogance, and personal enmity to himself; but he should 
 have known that none of these things had led to the breaking 
 off of the match, and that, so far from inducing the Spaniards to 
 
264 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 hope in the Prince's conversion, Buckingham had, in a violent 
 manner, disabused them of that idea at an early period of the 
 visit to Madrid. But by exaggeration and passion, both Charles 
 and Bristol gave a false colour to the true facts, and, like 
 plaintiffs in a common lawsuit, made up for want of evidence 
 by verbose abuse. 
 
 Bristol's demand that Buckingham should be arrested and 
 confined during his trial was protested against by the King, and 
 the peers did not go to this extremity. A note of the charges 
 against the Duke were sent to him so that he might prepare his 
 answers, and Buckingham awaited the indictment with a com- 
 fortable disregard to its gravity. He had as usual an easy 
 conscience. Confident that in all his actions he had had the 
 interests of his country at heart, and knowing that Charles 
 shared his responsibility, and was prepared to support him 
 loyally against his enemies, he felt that this outcry was a mere 
 expression of popular and political passion inspired by prejudice, 
 and by ignorance of the true facts, which would be dispelled by 
 the sincerity of his defence. So cheerful was he at this time that 
 his impeachment seemed sheer nonsense, to be treated with 
 disdain and hilarity. When the deputation from the Commons 
 appeared before a conference of both Houses to read the articles 
 against him, he sat directly opposite his accusers in insolent 
 ease that was very galling to some of them, and showed his 
 contempt for their action by laughing in their faces. 
 
 It was on the eighth of May that these articles were 
 presented by the eight " Managers " of the impeachment, whom 
 Rushworth names as follows : Sir Dudley Digges, Mr. Herbert, 
 Mr. Selden, Mr. Glanville, Mr. Pym, Mr. Sherland, Mr. 
 Wandesford, and Sir John Eliot. 
 
 Sir Dudley Digges introduced the impeachment by a 
 " prologue " in which with many high-sounding phrases he 
 surveyed the evils that had befallen the nation, and found that 
 the source of all these things was " in one great man, the cause 
 of all, whom I am here to name, the Duke of Buckingham." 
 He then read the preamble of the impeachment which, as it is 
 a list of all the honours and offices bestowed on George Viliiers, 
 may here be given as an historical curiosity — 
 
THE IMPEACHMENT OF BUCKINGHAM 265 
 
 "The Common Declaration and Impeachment against 
 the Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 " For the speedy redress of great Evils and Mischiefs, and of 
 the great cause of these Evils and Mischiefs which this Kingdom 
 of ENGLAND now grievously suffer eth, and of late years 
 hath suffered; and to the honour and safety of our Sovereign 
 Lord the King, and of his Crown and Dignity ; and to the 
 good and welfare of his People, The Commons in the present 
 Parliament, by the authority of our said Sovereign Lord the 
 King, assembled, Do, by this their Bill, shew and declare 
 against GEORGE, Duke, Marquis, and Earl of BUCKING- 
 HAM, Earl of CO VENTR Y, Viscount VILLIERS, Baron of 
 WHADDON, Great Admiral of the Kingdoms of ENGLAND 
 and IRELAND, and of the Principality of WALES, and of 
 the Dominions and Islands of the same, of the Town of CALAIS, 
 and of the Marches of the same, and of NORMANDY, 
 GA SCOIGNE, and G UIENNE, General, Governour of the Seas 
 and Ships of the said Kingdom, Lieutenant-General Admiral, 
 Captain-General and Governor of his Majesty's Royal Fleet and 
 Army lately set forth, Master of the Horse of our Sovereign Lord 
 the King, Lord Warden, Chancellor and Admiral of the Cinque 
 Ports, and of the Members thereof, Constable of DOVER Castle, 
 Justice in Eyre of the Forests and Chases on this side the River 
 TRENT, Constable of the Castle of WINDSOR, Gentleman of 
 his Majesty's Bed-Chamber, one of his Majesty's Most Honourable 
 Privy Council in his Realms both in ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, 
 and IRELAND, and Knight of the most Honourable Order of 
 the Garter: The Misdemeanors, Misprisions, Offences, Crimes, 
 and other Matters, comprised in the articles following ; and him 
 the said Duke do accuse and impeach of the said Misdemeanors, 
 Misprisions, Offences and Crimes'' 
 
 Sir Dudley Digges was evidently a man who prided himself 
 upon eloquence modelled on the great classical orations. With 
 an extraordinary flow of mixed metaphors, and with an as- 
 tronomical allegory in which there was a prodigious amount of 
 sham science, he likened the Duke of Buckingham to "a 
 prodigious Comet " and " a Blazing Star," whose course was " so 
 exorbitant in all the affairs of the Commonwealth" that the 
 
266 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Commons had been blinded by it. Then, after a summary of 
 the charges prepared against the Duke, he uttered words which 
 to Charles, who read them afterwards, must have appeared as an 
 attack upon his sovereign prerogative. Alluding to the King's 
 favour to Buckingham, and the Duke's plea that he acted with 
 the King's authority, he declared that "the laws of England 
 teach us that Kings cannot command ill or unlawful things, 
 when ever they speak, though by their letters patent or their 
 seals. If the things be evil, these letters patent are void, and 
 what ever ill event succeeds, the execution of such commands 
 must ever answer for them." 
 
 After this bold assertion of the right of the representatives 
 of the people to set aside the authority of the King when he 
 commanded "ill or unlawful things" — a statement of revolu- 
 tionary doctrine at a time when Laud was preaching and 
 Charles asserting the Divine Right of Kings — Sir Dudley 
 Digges took his seat, and was followed, one after another, by 
 Edward Herbert, Selden, Glanville, Pym, Sherland, Wandesford, 
 and Sir John Eliot, who divided the articles of the impeach- 
 ment and elaborated them with lengthy arguments. 
 
 It would be tedious and unprofitable to give at any length 
 the details of these accusations, which painted Buckingham as a 
 monster of iniquity, and attacked his private character and his 
 public work with a vast and appalling battery of seventeenth- 
 century eloquence, which thundered and reverberated with 
 ponderous periods, and burst into rockets of metaphor. 
 
 Briefly the charges were as follows : — 
 
 Buckingham, with exorbitant ambition, had obtained a 
 plurality of offices, whose duties could not be efficiently per- 
 formed by one man, thus being therefore a danger to the State, 
 as well as a discouragement to others whose virtues and abilities 
 were precluded from these public employments. 
 
 Buckingham had, contrary to the law, bought such public 
 offices, two instances being given. He had paid £3000 to the 
 Earl of Nottingham, in addition to a pension, for the office of 
 Lord Admiral. He had paid ^1000 to Lord Zouch for the 
 office of Warden of the Cinque Ports. 
 
 Buckingham had, in his office as Lord Admiral, so neglected 
 his duties that the Channel was infested with pirates, to the 
 great damage of English trade. 
 
GEORGE DIGBV, EARL OF BRISTOL 
 
 AFTER A PORTRAIT BY VANDYCK 
 
THE IMPEACHMENT OF BUCKINGHAM 267 
 
 Buckingham, by seizing the ships of a friendly power 
 (France), under pretence that they were prizes conveying con- 
 traband of war, had caused reprisals to be made, to the further 
 damage of the merchant fleets of the kingdom. 
 
 Buckingham had oppressed the East India merchants, and 
 therefore caused more harm to trade, by delaying the voyage of 
 these ships under pretence that they had been guilty of piracy, 
 and had caused them to be fined £10,000, which he claimed for 
 his office of the Admiralty. 
 
 Buckingham had surrendered English ships to the French 
 Government, knowing full well that they would be used against 
 the Protestants of Rochelle, with whom we were brothers in 
 faith, and he had plotted with Captain Pennington in command 
 of those ships, to hand over the vessels, in spite of the fact that 
 he, Buckingham, had declared to the Parliament that they 
 should not be so used. 
 
 Buckingham had sold places and taxes for corrupt practices, 
 to the great dishonour of the English peerage and the nation. 
 Among other cases he had, for the sum of £20,000, sold the 
 office of Lord High Treasurer to the Earl of Middlesex. 
 
 Buckingham had used his great influence with the late King 
 to procure titles for his numerous kinsfolk, so that his family 
 had been exalted above all others. 
 
 Buckingham had procured sums of money issued under the 
 Privy Seal to persons named by himself, but afterwards em- 
 ployed to his own use. He had also bartered and exchanged 
 Crown properties to his own personal advantage, and had 
 caused great confusion between the King's estate and his own, 
 so that it could not be distinguished by the records and entries 
 which should have been kept for the safety of his Majesty's 
 treasure. 
 
 Lastly, contrary to the strict law safeguarding the person 
 and health of the Sovereign, he had caused medicine to be 
 administered to the King in his last illness contrary to the will 
 of the Royal physicians.* 
 
 Two days were spent in the elaboration of this formidable 
 indictment, and on the third day Sir John Eliot rose to make 
 the concluding speech. It was the final evolution of Eliot's 
 
 * This is a brief summary of the charges as given in full detail in Rush- 
 worth's " Historical Collections." 
 
268 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 attitude towards the Duke. At first his friend, he had 
 attempted a friendly compromise. Then he had gone over to 
 the opposition, and later had hinted at his responsibility for the 
 national distress. Then he had denounced him by name, and 
 now, as his declared enemy, poured out upon him, from a 
 passionate heart, an indignation terrible and violent in its 
 language. 
 
 Having spoken in general terms of the charges against 
 Buckingham thus laid before the Parliament, he analyzed the 
 character of the man. 
 
 " First, I purpose unto your Lordships the inward character 
 of the Duke's mind, which is full of collusion and deceit ; I can 
 express it no better than by the Beast, so called by the ancients 
 Stellionatus ; a Beast so blurr'd, so spotted, so full of foul lines, 
 that they knew not what to make of it ; so do we find in this 
 man's practice, who first inveigled the merchants, drawing 
 them to Dieppe to be enthralled ; then dealt deceitfully with 
 the King to colour his offences, his design being against 
 Rochelle and against the Religion ; next with the Parliament, 
 to disguise his actions ; a practice no less dangerous and dis- 
 advantageous to us, than -prejudicial to our friends and allies." 
 
 Eliot then went on to denounce the Duke for his whole 
 conduct regarding the loan of the English ships, declaring that 
 even if the King had given authority for such action, the Duke 
 should have opposed it by his prayers and intercessions. Nor 
 was it any excuse that the ships, as he had heard, had been 
 captured. " The French, in this case, are to be commended, not 
 be excused ; he left them in the hands of a Foreign Power, who 
 when they once had used them, for anything he knew, might 
 easily have kept them." 
 
 Coming to the business of the East India merchants, which 
 Eliot called an extortion, one of the peers interposed privately 
 that it had been done by the King's command. Upon which 
 Eliot passionately protested to the loyalty of the Commons, on 
 whose behalf he spoke. 
 
 " Far be it from them to lay an odium or aspersion on his 
 Majesty's name ; they hold his honour spotless, nor the least 
 shadow of blemish fix upon him in this business." 
 
 Then reaching now the full pitch of his great wrath, Eliot 
 flung himself upon his former friend. 
 
THE IMPEACHMENT OF BUCKINGHAM 269 
 
 " Next to the foul extortion, is bribery and corruption in the 
 sale of honour and offices of command. That which was wont 
 to be the crown of Virtue and Merit, is now become a merchan- 
 dise for the greatness of this man, and the Justice itself made a 
 prey unto him." He had by such corrupt means raised a party 
 in the State, protecting himself by his allies and kindred. 
 
 "And thus he hath drawn to him and his the power of 
 Justice, the power of Honour, and the power of Command, and 
 in effect the whole power of the Kingdom, for both peace and 
 war, to strengthen his allies, and in setting up himself, hath set 
 upon the Kingdom's revenues, the fountain of supply, and the 
 nerves of the land. 
 
 " He intercepts, consumes, and exhausts the resources of the 
 Crown, not only to satisfy his own lustful desires, but the 
 luxury of others ; and by emptying the veins the bloodj should 
 run in, he hath cast the body of the kingdom into an high 
 consumption. 
 
 " Infinite sums of money, and mass of land, exceeding the 
 values of money, contributions in Parliament have been heaped 
 upon him, and how have they been employed ? Upon costly 
 furniture, sumptuous feasting, and magnificent building, the 
 visible evidences of the express exhausting of the State ; and 
 yet his ambition, which is boundless, resteth not here, but like 
 a violent flame bursteth forth, and getteth further scope : Not 
 satisfied with injuries, and injustice, and dishonouring of religion, 
 his attempts go higher, to the prejudice of his Sovereign, which 
 is plain in his practice. The effects I fear to speak, and fear to 
 think. . . . 
 
 "Your Lordships have an Idea of the Man, what he 
 is in himself, what in his affections. You have seen his power, 
 and some I fear have felt it ; you have known his practice and 
 have heard the effects. It rests then to be considered what 
 (being such) he is in reference to the King and State ; how 
 compatible and incompatible with either ? In reference to the 
 King he must be stiled the Canker in his Treasure ; in reference 
 to the State, the Moth of all Goodness. . . . 
 
 " For his secret Intentions and Calumniations I wish this 
 Parliament had not felt them, nor the other before. For his 
 Pride and Flattery it is noted of Sejanus that he did Clientes 
 suos Provinciis adornare. Doth not this man the like? Ask 
 
270 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 England, Scotland, and Ireland, and they will tell you. 
 Sejanus's pride was so excessive, as Tacitus saith. He neg- 
 lected all Council, mixed his business and service with the 
 Prince, seeming to confound their actions, and was often stiled 
 Imperatoris laborum socius. How lately and how often had this 
 man commixed his actions in discourses with actions of the 
 Kings ? 
 
 "My Lords, I have done. Yon see the Man. Only this 
 which was conceived by the knights, citizens and burgesses 
 should be boldly by all spoken. That by him came all these 
 evils, in him we find the Cause, and on him we expect the 
 Remedies, and to this we meet your Lordships in conference, to 
 which as your wisdom invites us, so we cannot doubt, but in 
 your Lordships' wisdom, greatness, and power, he shall in due 
 time, find judgment as he deserves." 
 
 This speech, addressed against a man still supreme in power, 
 was by its astonishing boldness, and by its fiery eloquence, one 
 of the greatest efforts of oratory recorded in the annals of 
 Parliament. To those Lords who, as Eliot said, had felt the 
 power of " the man," even to those peers who, like Pembroke, 
 belonged to the Court party, yet had watched the comet-like 
 career of Buckingham with distrust and dislike, above all, to 
 the Commons, who believed that every word| of Eliot's was 
 inspired by truth, and in whose imagination Buckingham was 
 monstrous, and a vampire sucking the life-blood of the nation, 
 the speech must have seemed sublime in courage and righteous 
 wrath. For years men had not dared to whisper against the 
 King's Favourite, or, if they spoke in criticism of his conduct, 
 had suffered from his vengeance. But now, loudly the voice of 
 Eliot had rung out, like a trumpet, in defiance, blaring forth to 
 the world the iniquities of which the man was believed guilty. 
 
 Impartial judges know now that the impeachment and 
 Eliot's denunciation were not founded upon absolute truth, that 
 the details of every charge were, indeed, false to the actual 
 facts. A modern jury could hardly bring in a verdict of guilty 
 upon any of the counts. Such an historian as Gardiner, who 
 had but little sympathy with Buckingham, acquits him of having 
 committed the crimes definitely laid to his charge. Nor was 
 his personal character at all like the image painted in garish 
 colours by Eliot and his colleagues. When Eliot said, "My 
 
THE IMPEACHMENT OF BUCKINGHAM 271 
 
 Lords, you see the man," his portrait was of a great criminal 
 and a great traitor, corrupt and ruthless in all his actions. That 
 was false. Buckingham was not a great criminal. He was not 
 corrupt. He was not a traitor. Though he had accepted royal 
 gifts gladly, his hands were singularly clean. There were few 
 men in that age whose honesty amidst great opportunities and 
 temptations was so unspotted. And his patriotism cannot be 
 called in question. It was, indeed, the great passion and religion 
 of his life ; not, as it must be admitted, of that pure and spiritual 
 kind by which men serve their country in humility and without 
 self-interest, but so identified with his own character and career 
 that it was a glorified egotism, and to have betrayed his country 
 would to Buckingham have been self-betrayal, unnatural and 
 impossible to him. Technically, therefore, the impeachment of 
 the Commons was, in many of its charges, unsupported by 
 evidence. But it was nevertheless inspired by the spirit of 
 truth. It was the expression of a nation's despair and wrath 
 directed against the one man who could be held morally 
 responsible for the calamities of England. He was not wholly 
 to blame, for he was often only the figure-head of a rotten 
 system, an agent impelled by forces outside himself, a man 
 whose failures were often due to things over which he had no 
 control. But there he was, the first minister of England, the 
 right hand of the King, the champion of a disastrous policy, and 
 when the Commons impeached him they found in him the most 
 convenient and the most exalted victim for that sacrifice which 
 must always be offered to the gods when a nation goes astray 
 and is in misery. 
 
 To Charles and Buckingham the impeachment, as presented 
 by the Commons, was an outrage and a lie. Charles was stung 
 by the indirect attack upon his own person. " If the Duke is 
 Sejanus," he said, " I must be Tiberius." He appealed to the 
 Lords to defend his honour. He would take means to punish 
 the offenders and, if he had not done so before, it was because 
 Buckingham had pleaded with him to permit the impeachment 
 to proceed so that his innocence could be made clear. Of that 
 innocence there could be no doubt, because, " as touching the 
 occasions against him" Charles could himself be a witness to 
 clear him of every one of them. He was especially incensed 
 against Sir Dudley Digges and Sir John Eliot. Both Digges 
 
272 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 and Eliot had accused the Duke of conspiring against the late 
 King's life, whereas the impeachment had only accused him of 
 presumption in administering medicine contrary to the wish of 
 the physicians. Digges had insinuated a horrible thing against 
 Charles himself. In alluding to the plaster given to James, he 
 had in a dark way added " that he would therein spare the 
 honour of the King.' ; That was a plain suggestion that Charles 
 had conspired against his father's life. He would not tolerate 
 such words from any one, in or outside Parliament 
 
 When the Commons assembled one day, Digges and Eliot 
 were not in their places, and the news soon spead that they had 
 been carried to the Tower ; a great commotion took place in the 
 House at this breach of their liberties, and on the following 
 morning when the Speaker rose they shouted to him to sit down. 
 They would do no business until they were righted in their 
 liberties. 
 
 Sir Dudley Carleton spoke on behalf of the King. He 
 pointed out the scandalous imputation made by Digges against 
 the King's honour, and then took it upon himself to answer 
 those words of the same man who, in his prologue to the 
 impeachment, had denied the King's authority. " I beseech you, 
 gentlemen," he said, "move not his Majesty with trenching 
 upon his prerogatives, lest you bring him out of love with 
 Parliaments. ... In all Christian kingdoms you know that 
 Parliaments were in use anciently, until the monarchs began 
 to know their own strength ; and, seeing the turbulent spirit of 
 their Parliaments, at length they, by little and little, began to 
 stand upon their prerogatives, and at last overthrew all Parlia- 
 ments throughout Christendom, except here only with us." 
 
 They were incautious words to use in a Parliament already 
 rebellious in spirit and exceedingly proud. The Commons 
 were only goaded into greater rage against the imprisonment of 
 two of their members. They demanded their release with no 
 humble voice, and Charles now found that there was a flaw in 
 his case against Sir Dudley Digges. He denied having used 
 the words attributed to him, and thirty-six Peers signed a 
 declaration that they had heard nothing derogatory to the 
 King's honour in the speech of this member. In view of this 
 dangerously hostile attitude of the Commons, Charles thought it 
 well to retreat from his position, and Digges was released. An 
 
THE IMPEACHMENT OF BUCKINGHAM 273 
 
 attempt was made to bring outside evidence of treason against 
 Sir John Eliot ; but this also failed, and Eliot returned quietly 
 triumphant to his place in the House ; after which the Commons 
 drew up a general remonstrance of grievances to be sent to the 
 King. Charles had not only failed in his will with the House of 
 Commons, but had suffered a serious rebuff from the Lords. 
 The Earl of Arundel had been arrested and confined in the 
 Tower on a warrant from the King for having married Elizabeth 
 Stuart, daughter of Laud's old friend Ludovic, Duke of Lennox, 
 contrary to the will of Charles, who had designed this lady for 
 Lord Lome, the son of the Duke of Argyle. The Lords had 
 resented Arundel's imprisonment without trial as an infringe- 
 ment upon their Orders with as much bitterness as the 
 Commons had felt in the case of Digges and Eliot, and after 
 several petitions to the King obtained the release of the young 
 peer. This contest with the Lords upon a purely personal 
 grudge at a time when he was seriously opposed by the 
 Commons, showed the lamentable inability of the King to 
 understand the moral forces around him. 
 
 While Buckingham was being charged with high treason 
 by the representatives of the people, it happened that the 
 Chancellorship of the University of Cambridge fell vacant, 
 owing to the death of the Earl of Suffolk. Charles im- 
 mediately expressed his desire that the Duke should receive 
 this honourable title. It would be, he thought, a sign to the 
 Commons that their impeachment had not altered his regard 
 for Buckingham, and that outside a rebellious House the 
 Duke's patronage was still coveted by men of light and learn- 
 ing. It would also be a check to the Calvinist element in the 
 University, for Buckingham, like Charles himself, had come 
 under the influence of Laud, whose High Church, or Anglican, 
 theories defended the supreme power of the King over Church 
 and State. The Masters of Trinity, Peterhouse, and Clare 
 Hall used their influence in the Duke's favour, and threw their 
 weight into the scale against the Earl of Berkshire, who was 
 chosen as a candidate by the Calvinists. A stormy election 
 took place, and the University was convulsed by partisan strife, 
 but Buckingham was duly elected by a small majority of votes. 
 When the news reached the House of Commons they protested 
 against the appointment of a man who was accused of such 
 
274 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 grave public crimes, but Charles promptly gave them to under- 
 stand that they had no voice whatever in the affairs of a 
 University over which Parliament had no control. 
 
 On June 8th, having received this new honour, Buckingham 
 rose in his place in the House of Lords and submitted his 
 answer to the impeachment. This had been drawn up by 
 Heath, the Attorney-General, with the assistance of Laud and 
 Nicholas Hyde, and, with the full knowledge of facts of which 
 the Commons, in preparing the impeachment, had been only 
 partly cognisant, was, on the whole, a convincing vindication of 
 his honesty and honour. 
 
 In an opening speech Buckingham showed that graceful 
 and winning affability which gave him such a glamour and 
 charm. He was willing to forgive his accusers as men who had 
 been led astray by passion and ignorance. With all the air of 
 a man conscious of his own noble purpose he would not ask for 
 pardon, but was there to grant it. He was not wrathful or 
 impatient. Noblesse oblige, and not a word would he say 
 against his " inferiors." Yet to his Peers he could show humility. 
 To them he would give an explanation of his conduct and 
 protest his patriotism. 
 
 "Who accused me?" he asked, and answered his own 
 question with contempt. " Common fame. Who gave me up 
 to your lordships ? The House of Commons. 
 
 " The one is too subtle a body, if a body, the other too 
 great, for me to contest with: and I am confident, when my 
 cause shall be tried, neither the one or the other, or part of 
 either, will be found to be my enemy. 
 
 " But as Fame is subtle, so it is often and especially in 
 accusations, false ; therefore the House of Commons have not 
 wronged me : yet I am confident it will at length be found that 
 Common Fame hath abused both them and me. 
 
 " I presume the House of Commons have proceeded against 
 me out of an hearty and zealous affection to do their King and 
 country service, and I hope, out of Christian charity to punish 
 and amend my faults (if Fame could have proved them), and not 
 to envy my reputation or destroy my fortune. I shall never call 
 such proceedings wrong, if seeking to cure any errors, give me 
 opportunity to clear and publish my innocency. For the State 
 itself I have little to say, it is but a little, I will not rouse your 
 
THE IMPEACHMENT OF BUCKINGHAM 275 
 
 Lordships' patience. I was born and bred in it, I owe it my- 
 self; I have been raised to honours and fame in it (I truly confess) 
 beyond my merits ; what I wanted in sufficiency and experience 
 for the service of it, I have endeavoured to supply by care and 
 industry. And could there be the least alienation hereafter in 
 my heart from the service of the State, for my King that hath 
 passed, I should be the ungratefullest man living ; should but 
 such a thought stain my heart I should be content it were let 
 blood. If my posterity should not inherit the same fidelity, I 
 should desire an inversion in the course of nature, and be glad to 
 see them earthed before me." 
 
 The defence that then followed this tactful speech, in which 
 pride was mingled with humility, and contempt with charity, was 
 not so long in its answers as the impeachment in its accusations, 
 yet replied to each article in order. 
 
 Regarding plurality of offices, he confessed that by the 
 generosity of two Kings he had received many honours, freely 
 bestowed without his seeking them. And to the present King, he 
 would " readily lay down at his Royal feet not only his places 
 and offices, but his whole fortunes and his life to do him service." 
 
 As for his office at the Admiralty, this was made freely with- 
 out any contract or bargain with the late admiral, though after- 
 wards, " voluntarily and freely, and as an argument of his whole 
 respect for so honourable a predecessor," he had given a present 
 of three thousand pounds to him, the Earl of Nottingham's 
 estate not being great. Upon taking up his office, Buckingham 
 was careful of his duty, and would not rely on his own judgment, 
 but besought his late Majesty to appoint a commission of fit 
 and able persons for the affairs of the Navy, which commission 
 was granted, and he had never done anything of moment with- 
 out the advice of his commissioners. 
 
 He had bought the wardenship of the Cinque Ports from 
 Lord Zouch, not for the sake of private gain (there being a 
 pecuniary advantage attaching to his position), but because many 
 inconveniences arose at the Admiralty by the separate juris- 
 diction of the Cinque Ports. Lord Zouch would not release 
 the office without a consideration, and for the sake of the 
 efficiency of the Navy, he agreed to give him one thousand 
 pounds in money, and five hundred a year, this sum having been 
 offered to that lord by the late Duke of Richmond. 
 
276 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Referring to the accusation as to not guarding the Channel 
 from pirates and enemies, he pointed out that during his charge 
 over the Admiralty there had always been a strong fleet for the 
 protection of the shore and shipping, and he had constantly 
 consulted the Commissioners of the Admiralty, as well as the 
 Privy Council," and that notwithstanding the fortunes of war, 
 in which some losses must happen, and disastrous storms, the 
 fleet had inflicted severe losses on the enemy. 
 
 With reference to the charge of unjustly seizing the ships of 
 a friendly power, he declared that he had acted according to 
 the resolution of the King's judges and advocates, after a care- 
 ful inquiry, who had based their opinion upon evidence that 
 the vessels were laden with Spanish goods, and could therefore 
 be justly seized as prizes. In making reprisals, the French had 
 not acted in a legal manner. 
 
 Touching the charge of extorting ten thousand pounds from 
 the East India Company, the Duke protested that he had infor- 
 mation given him by a principal member of their own company, 
 of prizes seized from the Portuguese in the East Indies, and that 
 according to him a large part was due to the King, and to the 
 Duke as admiral. Whereupon directions were given for a 
 legal prosecution in the Court of Admiralty. 
 
 His answer about the ships lent to the King of France, and 
 used against Rochelle, was a repetition of his previous speech 
 to the conference of both Houses. The ships had been lent, not 
 for an attack upon Rochelle, but against Genoa. " And when 
 his Majesty did find that, beyond his intention, and contrary to 
 the faithful promises of the French they were so misemployed, 
 he found himself bound in honour to intercede with the most 
 Christian King, his good Brother, for the peace of that town 
 and of the Religion, lest his Majesty's honour might otherwise 
 suffer: which intercession his Majesty did so sedulously, and 
 successfully pursue, that the town and the Religion there do, 
 and will, acknowledge the fruits thereof." 
 
 As for seeking honours and places, he utterly denied the 
 charge. With reference especially to the Earl of Middlesex, 
 who was said to have paid him six thousand pounds for the 
 Mastership of the Wards, he could prove that this sum had after- 
 wards been given by the Earl to his late Majesty, who bestowed 
 it upon Sir Henry Mildmay, "without the Duke's privity, and 
 
THE IMPEACHMENT OF BUCKINGHAM 277 
 
 he had it and enjoyed it, and no penny thereof came to the said 
 Duke, or to his use." 
 
 Coming now to the accusation of procuring honours for his 
 kindred, he admitted that his late Majesty, having honoured the 
 Duke himself with many titles and dignities, did also think fit 
 to honour those who were equal in blood with him, and also to 
 ennoble their mother who was the stock that bore them. Buck- 
 ingham had not asked for these bounties, " but if it were true that 
 the Duke had procured honours for those who are so near and 
 dear unto him, the law of nature, and the King's royal favour, 
 he hopeth, will plead his excuse ; and he rather believeth he were 
 unworthy to be condemned in the opinion of all generous minds, 
 if, being in such favour with his master, he had minded only 
 his own advancement, and had neglected those who were nearest 
 unto him." 
 
 Now, coming to the most serious charge of all, that he had 
 intercepted and misapplied the King's revenue for his own 
 private purposes, he would prove by a schedule of money 
 received and spent that the truth was otherwise. He had upon 
 several occasions disposed of divers sums of money of his late 
 Majesty and of his present Majesty, by their private directions, 
 in the service of the State, and afterwards he had received 
 " releases " discharging him from those debts. 
 
 Lastly, the Impeachment had 'accused him of "transcendent 
 presumption " in giving physic to the King. Buckingham 
 answered that he did neither procure nor apply the plaster or 
 posset'drink, nor was present when the same were first taken or 
 applied. The King, hearing that the Earl of Warwick's physician 
 had administered these things to Buckingham when he was sick, 
 asked the Duke to send for them. Buckingham delayed, upon 
 which James sent for John Baker, the Duke's servant, and with 
 his own mouth commanded him to fetch them. Upon this 
 Buckingham begged the King not to make use of the medicine 
 unless advised by his physicians, and until it had been tried 
 upon one of his servants of the bedchamber who was suffering 
 from ague. This the King promised to do, and the Duke then 
 went to London. During his absence, the plaster and posset 
 were brought and applied by the King's own command. 
 
 " At the Duke's return, his Majesty was in taking of the 
 posset-drink, and the King then commanded the Duke to give 
 
278 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 it him, which he did in the presence of some of the King's 
 physicians, they then no ways seeming to dislike it, the same 
 drink being first tasted of by some of them, and divers others in 
 the King's bedchamber. And he thinketh this was the second 
 time the King took it Afterwards, when the King grew worse 
 than before, the Duke heard a rumour as if this physic had done 
 the King hurt, and that the Duke had ministered that physic to 
 him without advice. The Duke acquainted the King therewith, 
 to whom the King with much discontent answered thus : ' They 
 are worse than Devils that say it.' " 
 
 It has been admitted by most modern historians, though not 
 by those popular writers who have adopted the old prejudices 
 against Buckingham without weighing the evidence, that this 
 answer to the Impeachment was sincere, truthful, and reason- 
 able, whereas the charges in the Impeachment itself were, in 
 their details, based upon insufficient knowledge and exaggerated 
 by passion. But the Commons were not to be convinced against 
 their resolute opinion that Buckingham was the author of the 
 nation's misery, and when the King now peremptorily requested 
 them to get to business and vote the supplies he so urgently 
 needed for the service of the State, they boldly declared that a 
 Remonstrance would precede supply. In this Remonstrance 
 they put on one side all details and specific charges, believing 
 that beyond such matters he was an enemy to both Church and 
 State. 
 
 " Unless we would betray our own duties to your Majesty," 
 they said, " and those for whom we are trusted, we cannot but 
 express our infinite grief that he should have so great power 
 and interest in your primary affections, and under your Majesty 
 wholly, in a manner, to engross to himself the administration of 
 your affairs of the kingdom, which by that means is drawn into 
 a condition most miserable and hazardous. . . . We protest to 
 your Majesty and to the whole world, that until this great 
 person be removed from intermeddling with the great affairs of 
 State, we are out of hope of any good success, and do fear that 
 any money that we shall and can give, will, through his mis- 
 employment, be turned rather to the hurt and prejudice of this 
 your kingdom than otherwise, as by lamentable experience we 
 have found, in those large supplies we have formerly and lately 
 given." 
 
THE IMPEACHMENT OF BUCKINGHAM 279 
 
 This proposed Remonstrance was, in the opinion of Charles, 
 and not unjustly, an attack not only upon Buckingham, but 
 upon the very foundations of his own constitutional authority. 
 They had abandoned their impeachment, and without waiting 
 for Buckingham's trial by his peers, in which he would have 
 been pronounced innocent or guilty according to legal evidence, 
 now demanded that the King should dismiss his Minister, 
 though Buckingham had acted with his full authority and 
 advice. The pride of a King would not suffer such dictation 
 from the Commons, and Charles found his patience exhausted. 
 He gave notice of his intention to dissolve Parliament, and 
 when the House of Lords petitioned him respectfully to post- 
 pone his decision in view of the unsettled condition of the 
 country, he answered angrily, " Not a minute." To the Com- 
 mons he addressed a stern rebuke for having, contrary to his 
 repeated desires, delayed the necessary business of the State and 
 the Votes of Supply, in order to discuss grievances and to bring 
 false charges ; and on June 15th of the year 1626, a Parliament 
 which had shown such an aggressive and democratic spirit was 
 formally dissolved. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 
 
 IN dissolving Parliament, Charles had played the trump card 
 which is always in the hands of Kings (though not always 
 wise to play), and had scored a trick against the Commons by 
 effectually preventing their impeachment against the Duke. 
 Buckingham himself was not altogether pleased with this action, 
 because, in his sublime self-confidence, he had regarded the 
 public trial as an opportunity for clearing his honour against 
 popular slander, and was now resolved to try his case in the 
 Star Chamber Court, where he would certainly be acquitted by 
 the judges ; but this fell through, owing to the refusal of Eliot 
 and his colleagues to give evidence before this tribunal, declar- 
 ing that they had acted only on behalf of the Commons, and 
 had had no right or knowledge to speak outside the House of 
 Parliament. 
 
 The Duke's position, however, was now unassailed, and even 
 stronger than before, because it was evident to all men that 
 Charles would support him to the uttermost and in the face of all 
 public clamour. Even Pembroke, who had shown independence 
 of his greatness and, sometimes, opposition to his power, now 
 acknowledged his victory over the Commons, by consenting to 
 a family alliance. Buckingham's daughter, the little Lady 
 Mary, was affianced to the young son of Pembroke's brother, 
 Montgomery, and Buckingham further secured the nobility to 
 his side by causing several peers who had supported him in the 
 last session of Parliament to be raised to the Privy Council. 
 
 At York House he reigned now in an almost kingly magni- 
 ficence, and notwithstanding the pressure of public work upon 
 him, found time for great hospitality. Among those whom he 
 feasted and entertained were the Vice-Chancellor and heads of 
 
 280 
 
WILLIAM HERBERT, EARL OF PEMBROKE 
 
 AFTER A PORTRAIT BY VANDYCK 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 281 
 
 Colleges of Cambridge, the Masters of Arts, Bachelors, and 
 Proctors, who, on the 12th of July, came in their robes, hoods, 
 habits, and caps, in solemn procession, to confer the Chancellor- 
 ship upon his Grace. The ceremony was the occasion of much 
 bowing and reverent doffing of hats, and Buckingham, accom- 
 panied by other noble lords, listened patiently to long Latin 
 orations, of which the Duke himself certainly understood but 
 little. But he made a gracious speech to them, " and then," says 
 a letter-writer of the period, "they all viewed the Duke's 
 lodgings, and walked in the gardens, where, in one of the 
 cloisters, there was music, and when the tables were set they 
 went to supper." 
 
 Immediately after the dissolution of Parliament a strange 
 phenomenon occurred on the Thames, just by the water-stairs at 
 York Gate, which was the subject of much curious comment at 
 the time, and seemed to some good people a portent of evil, 
 and an ill omen for the Duke. 
 
 " Yesterday," writes a friend of the Rev. Joseph Mead, who 
 sends a copy of the letter to Sir Martin Stuteville, " being 
 Monday, we beheld a strange spectacle on the Thames, for in 
 the great storm of thunder and lightning and hail, about three 
 o'clock in the afternoon, the water began to be much troubled 
 hard by the garden in Lambeth parish, over against Sir H. 
 Fiennes' stairs. . . . Presently the water, very much rarified like 
 a mist, began to rise into the form of a circle of thirty yards' 
 compass at ten feet high. The inside was hollow and white 
 with froth ; without there was a lett of water, much condensed, 
 and very black. This whirlwind of water (as those that will be 
 wise call it, for you must not say it is prodigious) ran very 
 impetuously down the water as far as the point, then took her 
 course, crossing the water, and beat itself amain against the 
 walls of York House garden, at the very place where the Duke 
 is building a pair of new stairs close by that house. Therewith 
 beating, it broke itself, a thick smoke, like that of a brewer's 
 chimney, ascending from it as high as a man could discern. All 
 this time, the weather being very black, there appeared right 
 over above it, as the beholders thought, a very bright cloud, to 
 the amazement of Whitehall and many very great courtiers, who 
 beheld it out of their windows, as did hundreds more. During 
 the storm, the wall of St. Andrew's Church in Holborn was 
 
282 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 beaten down, and many of the coffins of the dead, which lay 
 there buried, discovered. It was not done by a thunderbolt, but, 
 howsoever, the wall was very strong." 
 
 York House was the most magnificent private palace in 
 London, and the Duke had spent great sums of money upon 
 its adornment Like Charles himself, he was a great patron of 
 art, and that curious person, Balthazar Gerbier, his painter, con- 
 fidential agent, and slavish flatterer, waxes warm with enthusiasm 
 over the great collection of which he was the guardian. 
 
 " Some times," he wrote to his patron, " when I am con- 
 templating the treasure of rarities which your Excellency has 
 in so short a time amassed, I cannot but feel astonished in the 
 midst of my joy. For out of all the amateurs, and princes, and 
 kings, there is not one who has collected in forty years as many 
 pictures as your Excellency has collected in five. Let enemies 
 and people ignorant of paintings say what they will, they cannot 
 deny that pictures are noble ornaments, a delightful amusement, 
 and histories that one may read without fatigue. Our pictures, 
 if they were to be sold a century after our death, would sell for 
 good cash, and for three times more than they cost. I wish I 
 could only live a century, if they were sold, to be able to laugh 
 at these facetious folk, who say it is money cast away for 
 baubles and shadows. I know they will be pictures still when 
 those ignorants will be less than shadows." 
 
 Balthazar Gerbier would not have had to live a century 
 to see those pictures sold. Upon the Duke's death, some of 
 them were bought by the King, the Earl of Northumberland, 
 and Lord Montague; and afterwards Buckingham's son, the 
 eccentric and spendthrift second Duke, dispersed the whole 
 collection. An Antwerp dealer bought some of them, but the 
 majority were purchased by the Archduke Leopold, who added 
 them to his own noble collection at the Castle of Prague. For 
 one of these pictures, the famous " Ecce Homo " by Titian, which 
 introduced the portraits of the Pope, the Emperor Charles V., 
 and " Soliman the Magnificent," which was among those bought 
 by Leopold, our friend George, the first Duke, was offered 
 ;67O0O in money, or land of the same value, by Thomas, Earl 
 of Arundel. 
 
 Many of the pictures had been collected by Peter Paul 
 Rubens, with whom Buckingham was very friendly, and by Sir 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 283 
 
 Henry Wotton when ambassador at Venice. Among them 
 were nineteen by Titian, seventeen by Tintoretto, twenty-one 
 by Bassano, three by Julio Romano, two by Giorgione, thirteen 
 by Paul Veronese, eight by Palma, three by Guido, thirteen by 
 Rubens, three by Leonardo da Vinci, two by Correggio, and three 
 by Raphael, " besides other and esteemed masters." * 
 
 But Gerbier himself was the chief agent for the purchase of 
 the Duke's pictures and art treasures, and made many journeys 
 on the Continent to bargain for old masters and ancient sculpture, 
 with noble dealers. In November of 1624 he set out on one of 
 these expeditions through France and Italy, and, writing from 
 Boulogne, gives his master an account of the good hopes he had 
 of bringing back a great cargo of precious things. 
 
 " I mentioned in my former letter of Sir James Arthur how," 
 he writes, "the large and rare paintings in possession of a 
 person called President Chevallier, who has also some antique 
 heads in marble and bronze, the whole neither to be sold nor 
 to be given away without some scheme ; but I have sworn to 
 myself, as I did about the Prelate of Venice, that we must have 
 them, or I lack invention, for as they are the ornament of a 
 handsome house in France, they must be jewels at York House. 
 These paintings and these heads, five thousand pounds sterling 
 in tapestry, rich with gold and silver and silk, and made after 
 a pattern of Raphael's, and one hundred and fifty thousand 
 francs in cash, which make fifteen thousand pounds sterling, are 
 within the centre and circumference of this business." 
 
 It seems from Gerbier's account that there was something 
 rather crooked in "this business," and that the sale of the 
 pictures depended upon Buckingham's obtaining a pardon for 
 a French official who had been guilty of fraud. Gerbier 
 flourished his master's virtue in the face of the rogues concerned, 
 and declared that the Duke was " an enemy of all that is base 
 and low, more especially avoiding the having his eye or his 
 hand in the direction of lines which are not perpendicular, that 
 is to say, meddling with any affair unjust or contemptible, much 
 less would he be concerned in anything that was mercenary." 
 At the same time, he hints to " his sweet lord and more than 
 father," that if he does the favour asked: "these pictures will 
 come into our hands with all the rest" 
 
 * Catalogue of Buckingham's Pictures, by Brian Fairfax. 
 
284 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 The zealous Frenchman hoped to find many good things at 
 Rome, and in the mean time he writes, " During the time I have 
 been in Paris, I have not passed one hour without searching' 
 after some rarity ; and I should have stayed there but four days, 
 had it not been, as I thought, very necessary that I should find 
 out all that there is in Paris ; and I never could have thought 
 that they had so many rare things in France, all which are to 
 come into your hands at your happy arrival.* I beg your 
 Excellency yet to read the other sheet, and you will see there 
 these rare pictures of Michael Angelo Raphael. It is, my lord, 
 because since my last I have found at the house of the Bishop 
 of Paris two of the most rare pictures that can be. The first is 
 a St. Francis, a good-sized painting from the hand of the 
 Cavalier Ballion, as good as Michael Angelo Carajoago ; and 
 the other a picture of our Lady by Raphael, which is repainted 
 by some devil who I trust was hanged ; but still it is lovely, 
 and the drawing is so fine, that it is worth a thousand 
 crowns. There is another picture of Michael Angelo Bonna- 
 rotta ; but that should be seen kneeling, for it is a Crucifixion 
 with the Virgin and St. John — the most Divine thing in the 
 world. I have been such an idolater as to kiss it three times, 
 for there is nothing that can be more perfect. It is a miniature. 
 I have a hundred thousand things to say, but I offend too much 
 in trespassing so long upon your patience. I have met with a 
 most beautiful piece of Tintoret, of a Danae, a naked figure, the 
 most beautiful, that flint as cold as ice might fall in love with it. 
 I have given twenty crowns in hand ; it costs, with another 
 head of Titian, sixty pounds sterling. I have given also twenty 
 crowns in hand for the Gorgon's head ; it costs two hundred 
 crowns. I have not yet paid for them, because I was not willing 
 to draw bills until I knew how much I should employ at Paris, 
 which I shall know when I leave. But, my lord, after your 
 Excellency shall have made a large collection, I beg of you to 
 attack Monsieur de Montmorency, for he has the most beautiful 
 statues that can be spoken of ; that is to say, Two Slaves by 
 Michael Angelo, and some others. He is so liberal that he will 
 not refuse them. I beg of you to mention it to Monsieur de 
 Fiat,t for perhaps he has some friends about him. . . . The 
 
 * This was written before Buckingham's journey to bring back Henrietta Maria, 
 t The new French Ambassador in England. The name is generally spelt 
 D'Effiat. 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 285 
 
 picture of the Secretary of Titian I send by the bearer, to be 
 delivered at York House to my father-in-law. It is a jewel." 
 
 Gerbier was so much impressed by what he saw in France 
 that it filled him with a desire to see York House equally mag- 
 nificent. He begs the Duke to ask his lady to furnish the 
 palace in London as well as she can. " For the love of Paul 
 Veronese," he says, " be pleased to dress the walls of the gallery : 
 poor blank walls they will die of cold this winter ! " 
 
 So the little Frenchman goes on, fired with enthusiasm for 
 his business of picture-dealer to the great Duke ; and though 
 one may smile at his mode of expression, his letters are not 
 without interest as revealing his master's own magnificence as 
 an art patron. 
 
 Buckingham was not only the patron of art, but a collector 
 of many rare treasures offered to him by connoisseurs. When 
 he went on his mission to the States of Holland he bought a 
 library of Arabic manuscripts, collected by the scholar Erpinius, 
 which the Duke afterwards bequeathed to the University of 
 Cambridge.* But enough space has been given to this side of 
 his character, and it is necessary to return to the more serious 
 events of history. 
 
 The increasingly strained relations between England and 
 France, owing to the disinclination of the French Government 
 to fulfil their promises of active support against Spain and 
 Austria, as well as the King's desire to show his zeal for the 
 Protestant faith, gave Charles an excuse for ridding his Court of 
 the French attendants on the Queen, who since their coming 
 to England had been a source of continual irritation in his 
 domestic life. He took Buckingham into his counsels, and they 
 decided upon a wholesale eviction of all those French priests 
 and servants whose places about the Queen had been an essential 
 part of the marriage treaty. 
 
 Whatever our sympathy may be towards the old faith, and 
 however sternly it may be laid down that a solemn promise 
 should not be lightly broken, it must be admitted that Charles 
 had some justification for his passionate prejudice against these 
 strangers at his Court. They seem to have been a turbulent 
 and intolerant crew, adopting an aggressive attitude, and sur- 
 rounding the Queen as though she and they were a little band 
 * Catalogue of Buckingham's Pictures by Brian Fairfax. 
 
286 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 of martyrs in a nation of barbarians. The Queen herself was 
 too apt to play into their hands, and gave the impression to her 
 Court that her only pleasure was to retire to the company 
 of her own faith and nation. Doubtless this behaviour was 
 absurdly exaggerated by the Puritans about the Court, who 
 were ready to find any stick to beat a " Papist " with, and many 
 stupid and scandalous stories were spread about, and firmly 
 believed by the Protestant public. In a letter from a certain 
 Mr. Pory to Mead, the clergyman, it is solemnly set down that 
 " no longer ago than upon St James's Day last those hypo- 
 critical dogs made the poor queen walk afoot (some add bare- 
 foot) from her house at St. James's to the gallows at Tyburn, 
 thereby to honour the saint of the day in visiting that holy 
 place, where so many martyrs forsooth had shed their blood in 
 defence of the Catholic cause." This is a beautiful example of 
 that lying jade rumour, and is founded on nothing more terrible 
 than a sudden whim of the young Queen to take a walk to the 
 spots which naturally had sacred associations for any Catholic. 
 " Some add barefoot " — so does slander touch up a tale ! Then 
 goes on Mr. Pory : " Had they not also made her dabble in the 
 dirt, in a foul morning, from Somerset House to St. James's, her 
 luciferian confessor riding along by her in his coach? Yea, 
 they have made her to go barefoot, to spin, to cut her meat out 
 of dishes, to wait at the table, to serve her servants, with many 
 other ridiculous and absurd penances ; and if they dare thus 
 insult over the daughter, sister, and wife of so great Kings, 
 what slavery would they not make us the people to under- 
 go?" 
 
 Thus Protestant prejudice peered through darkened spec- 
 tacles and saw everything black. Charles himself took offence 
 at the most innocent diversions of these French folk, and his 
 anger blazed out when going to the private apartments of his 
 Queen one day he found her attendants "dancing and curvetting 
 in her presence." Taking Henrietta by the hand, he led her to 
 a private chamber, and locked himself in with her, no doubt to 
 give the poor child — she was scarcely a woman yet — a marital 
 lecture upon her giddiness. 
 
 Then Lord Conway was instructed to inform the French 
 Bishop and his clergy that they must pack up and depart from 
 the kingdom without delay. The Bishop protested that he was 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 287 
 
 an ambassador, and would not go until he was recalled by the 
 King, his master. To this Conway answered plainly that if he 
 did not go quickly there would be no scruple in putting him 
 out by force. 
 
 Then, having given this ultimatum to the priests, Conway, 
 attended by the Comptroller and Treasurer of the Household, 
 suddenly appeared before the Queen's gentlemen and waiting 
 women at Whitehall, where he informed them that it was His 
 Majesty's pleasure that they should instantly depart for Somerset 
 House, there to await his final instructions. A noisy and pain- 
 ful scene took place. The Queen's women squealed and howled 
 at the command to leave their beloved mistress. The gentle- 
 men-in-waiting swore they would rather die than desert their 
 duty. But Lord Conway, having the King's full authority, 
 was quite resolute to fulfil his instructions to the letter, 
 and the Yeomen of the Guard were called in to evict the 
 foreigners. 
 
 The poor Queen had been locked into her chamber by the 
 King during this distressing scene, and her anger at being 
 robbed of her people was so great that she tore her hair, and 
 dashed her little hand through the window of her room. 
 
 That evening Charles, very pale and determined, appeared 
 before the weeping and angry crowd of French attendants, who 
 were now huddled together at Somerset House. He declared 
 that his domestic happiness had been embittered by the mali- 
 cious behaviour of certain persons among them, though he would 
 mention no names, and that it was past endurance. He had no 
 choice but to order their instant departure from the kingdom, 
 but he should see that they did not suffer personal loss by his 
 decision, and he had already ordered his Treasurer to pay each 
 of them handsomely for their year's service. 
 
 But the French desperately clung to their posts, and, accord- 
 ing to Mr. Pory, quoted before in these pages, clung also with 
 greedy hands to every article of dress and to every jewel of the 
 Queen's which they could find at Somerset House, claiming 
 them as their perquisites. A month passed, and still they 
 remained in London, so that his Majesty's patience was now 
 quite spent. He wrote a peremptory letter to Buckingham, 
 from the tone of which it seems that he regarded the Duke as 
 having been remiss in executing his wishes. 
 
288 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 " Steenie, 
 
 " I have received your letter by Die Graeme ; this is 
 my answer: — I command you to send all the French away 
 to-morrow out of the town, if you can by fair means (but stick 
 not long in disputing) otherwise force them away, driving them 
 away like so many wild beasts until you have shipped them, 
 and so the devil go with them. Let me have no answer but of 
 the performance of my command. So I rest, 
 
 " Your faithful, constant, loving friend, 
 
 "Charles Rex 
 
 " Oaking, the 7th of August, 1626 " 
 
 Buckingham did not delay in the execution of these stringent 
 orders. The captain of the guard, with his yeomen, accompanied 
 by heralds and trumpeters, marched to Somerset House and 
 proclaimed before the gate, where some forty of the King's 
 coaches stood ready to convey the foreigners to Dover, that if 
 his Majesty's pleasure was not speedily obeyed in a peaceable 
 manner, force would be used to eject them, "which news, as 
 soon as the French heard their courage came down, and they 
 yielded, to be gone next tide." 
 
 Charles appointed the Countess of Buckingham, her daughter 
 the Countess of Denbigh, Hay's wife, the Countess of Carlisle, 
 and the Marchioness of Hamilton, to the Queen's bedchamber, 
 but poor Henrietta Maria, sadly distressed by the eviction of 
 her French people, remained in the sulks for some time, and 
 was very cool to her husband, who had, she thought, so broken 
 his faith with her. 
 
 When the news reached Louis in France he was very angry, 
 and protested that his sister was being treated with deliberate 
 cruelty. He immediately despatched the Marquis de Bassom- 
 pierre as an ambassador extraordinary to represent his views to 
 Charles, and to report upon the political situation in England. 
 
 Bassompierre was an able man, without bigotry, and with an 
 even temper and common sense which enabled him to see both 
 sides of a delicate situation. But upon his arrival in England 
 he found the King so incensed against his Government that he 
 did not trouble to receive him with the ordinary courtesy due to 
 the ambassador of a friendly power. The story of his embassy, 
 as told in his own memoirs, is extraordinarily interesting to 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 280 
 
 students of this period, and gives many vivid details of society 
 in the early days of the reign. It also gives account of many 
 meetings with Buckingham, in which the character and life of 
 the Duke are revealed in an intimate way. He complains that 
 upon his arrival he was neither lodged nor entertained at the 
 King's expense, though, as he had money in his purse, this did 
 not prevent him being " well lodged, furnished and accommo- 
 dated." That evening, after he had supped, a messenger came 
 to tell him that some one was inquiring for him. It was none 
 other than the Duke of Buckingham, accompanied by Montagu, 
 and " without flambeaux," who desired to be introduced into his 
 room by a private door. 
 
 Bassompierre, knowing that the Duke had been at Hampton 
 Court with the King, was much surprised to see him. 
 
 "He began by making many complaints against France, 
 then against me with respect to certain persons ; to which I 
 answered as best I could, and then made those of France against 
 England, which he also excused in the best manner he could, 
 and then promised me all manner of assistance, and I also 
 returned ample offers of my service to him. He begged me not 
 to tell that he had been to see me, because he had done it 
 without the King's knowledge, which I do not believe." 
 
 On the following night Bassompierre dined with the Duke 
 at York House, the splendour of which filled him with admira- 
 tion. " It is extremely fine, and was the most richly fitted up 
 than any other I saw." Buckingham for the time being was 
 gracious, " and," says the ambassador in his diary, " we parted 
 very good friends." 
 
 In the morning Sir Lewis Lewknor, the master of cere- 
 monies, came to him from the King with the command that he 
 should send back to France Father Sancy of the Oratory, whom 
 he had brought over with him. Bassompierre absolutely 
 refused, and told Lewknor very resolutely that the King had 
 nothing to do with his household arrangements, and that if he 
 was not agreeable to his Majesty he would leave his kingdom 
 and return to his master. A little while after the Duke of 
 Buckingham and the Earls of Dorset and Salisbury came to 
 dine with him, and he took the opportunity of complaining of 
 the King's unreasonable demand. But after dinner the Earl of 
 Montgomery, now Lord Chamberlain, called and repeated the 
 
290 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 King's instructions, to which Bassompierre replied as he had 
 done to Lewknor. 
 
 On Sunday James Hay, Earl of Carlisle, came with the 
 King's coaches to take him to Hampton Court, where he was 
 served "with a handsome collation." Then a curious scene 
 took place, in which Buckingham played a characteristic part of 
 affability alternating with arrogance, and with offers of friendship 
 accompanied by threats. It is best told by Bassompierre him- 
 self. " The Duke of Buckingham came to introduce me to the 
 audience, and told me that the King desired to know beforehand 
 what I purposed saying to him, and that he (the King) would 
 not have me speak to him about any business. I said to him 
 that the King should know what I had to say to him from my 
 own mouth, and that it was not the custom to limit an am- 
 bassador. . . . 
 
 "He (the Duke) swore vehemently to me, that he told me 
 the truth, and that he had not been able to induce the King 
 to see me otherwise ; begging of me even to suggest some 
 expedient, and that I would oblige him. I (who saw that I was 
 going to receive this affront, and that he asked me to assist him 
 with my advice, and to avoid the one, and to insinuate myself 
 more and more into his good graces by the other) told him, that I 
 could not in any manner whatsoever do anything but what was 
 prescribed to me by my master ; but that, since, as my friend, 
 he asked my advice as to some expedient, I told him that it de- 
 pended on the King to give or to take away, to shorten or to 
 lengthen the audience in what manner he would, and that he 
 might (after having allowed me to make him my bow, and 
 received, with the King's letters, my first compliments, when I 
 should come to open to him the occasion of my coming) 
 interrupt me, and say, ' Sir, you are come from London, and you 
 have to return thither ; it is late ; this matter requires a longer 
 time than I could now give you. I shall send for you one of 
 these days at an earlier hour, and we will confer about it at our 
 leisure in a private audience. In the meanwhile I shall satisfy 
 myself with having seen you, and heard of the King, my brother- 
 in-law, and the Queen, my mother-in-law, and I will not delay 
 the impatience which the Queen, my wife, has to hear of them 
 also from you.' Upon which I shall take my leave of him to go 
 make my bow to the Queen. 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 291 
 
 " After I had told him this, the Duke embraced me and said, 
 ' You know more of these things than me ; I have offered you 
 my assistance in the affair you are come to negotiate, but now I 
 recall the promise I gave you, for you can do very well without 
 me'; and so left me, laughing, to go and tell the King this 
 expedient, who accepted it, and punctually observed it. 
 
 " The Duke returned to introduce me to the audience, and the 
 Earl of Carlisle walked behind him. I found the King on a 
 stage raised two steps, the Queen and he in two chairs, who rose 
 at the first bow I made them on coming in. The company was 
 magnificent, and the order exquisite. I made my compliment 
 to the King, gave him my letters, and after having said my 
 words of civility, as I was proceeding to those of business, he 
 interrupted me in the same form I had proposed to the Duke. 
 I then saw the Queen, to whom I said little, because she told me 
 that the King had given her leave to go to London, where she 
 could see me at leisure. Then I withdrew. Then the dukes 
 and principal lords came to conduct me to my coach ; and, as 
 the Duke was talking to me expressly to give the secretary time 
 to catch me, the said secretary arrived, who told me that the 
 King informed me, that although he had promised me a private 
 audience he would not give me one until I should send back 
 Father Sancy to France ; as he had before desired me to do 
 three times without effect, at which his Majesty felt himself 
 offended. I answered that, if it were consistent with either my 
 duty or decency to obey him, I should have done so at the 
 first word, and that I had no other answers to give than in con- 
 formity to those I had already given, with which I thought he 
 ought to be satisfied ; and that his Majesty should content him- 
 self with the respect which I paid him, of keeping shut up in my 
 house one of my domestics, who was neither guilty, nor con- 
 demned, nor accused ; who, I could promise, should neither act, 
 nor speak, nor even show himself either at Court or in the city 
 of London, but remain in my own house while I should be 
 there, and not leave it before I myself did ; which I will do 
 to-morrow, if he orders it ; and, if he will not give me an 
 audience, I shall send to the King my master to know what 
 he pleases I should ask after that refusal ; who will not, in my 
 opinion, allow me to grow old in England, waiting till the King 
 takes a fancy, or finds leisure to hear me. 
 
292 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 " Which I said loud enough, and not at all moved, in order 
 that the bystanders might hear me. I then expressed more 
 resentment towards the Duke, whom I begged to let me hear 
 no more of this affair, about which I had made up my mind, 
 unless they would give me an order to leave London and the 
 island directly, which I should receive with joy : and upon that 
 I left the company with the Earl of Carlisle and Montague, 
 who brought me back to London and stopped to sup with me." 
 
 Bassompierre's sturdiness had its effect on the King and 
 Buckingham, and they began to realize that it would be better 
 to make a friend than enemy of him. The Duke invited him to 
 dinner again at York House, and finally Montague came with a 
 message from Buckingham that although the ambassador still 
 kept Father Sancy with him the King was willing to give him 
 an audience on the next day, which was Thursday, the 15th. 
 Accordingly the Earl of Bridgewater came with the Royal 
 coaches and drove with him to Hampton Court. Here he was 
 received by the Duke, who showed him into a gallery, where 
 Charles was waiting for him. A long interview took place, in 
 which there was much heated discussion. 
 
 "Charles," says Bassompierre, "put himself into a great 
 passion, and I, without losing my respect to him, replied to 
 him in such wise that at last yielding him something he con- 
 ceded a great deal to me. I witnessed there an instance of 
 great boldness, not to say impudence, of the Duke of Boukinham, 
 which was, that when he saw us the most warmed, he ran up 
 suddenly and threw himself between the King and me, saying, 
 ' I am come to keep the peace between you two.' Upon which 
 I took off my hat, and as long as he staid with us I would not 
 put it on again, notwithstanding all the intreaties of the King 
 and of himself to do so ; but when he went I put it on without 
 the King's desiring me. When I had done, and that the Duke 
 could speak to me, he asked me why I would not put on my 
 hat while he was by, and that I did so so freely when he was 
 gone. I answered that I had done it to do him honour, because 
 he was not covered, and that / should have been, which I could 
 not suffer ; for which he was much pleased with me, and often 
 mentioned it in my praise. But I had also another reason for 
 doing so, which was, that it was no longer an audience, but a 
 private conversation, since he had interrupted us, by coming in, 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 293 
 
 as a third, upon us. After my last audience was over, the King 
 brought me through several galleries to the Queen's apartments, 
 where he left me, and I her, after a long conversation ; and I 
 was brought back to London by the same Earl of Britswater." 
 
 All the influence of the Court was now brought to bear on 
 the ambassador in order that he might represent the religious 
 and domestic difficulties, which led to the repulsion of the 
 Queen's attendants, in a friendly way to the French King. The 
 Duke called on him constantly (and brought him to Somerset 
 House for informal discussion) ; all the great gentlemen of the 
 Court, the Earls of Pembroke, Montgomery, Carlisle, Holland, 
 and Bridgewater, the Marquis of Hamilton, Lord Conway, Sir 
 George Goring, and Sir Dudley Carleton, made amends for the 
 coolness of his first reception by every kind of civility and 
 hospitality. Charles even condescended to discuss his domestic 
 troubles with him, and after a little scene, in which the Queen 
 had openly quarrelled with her husband, the King took the 
 ambassador into a private chamber and opened his heart to him, 
 complaining of his wife's conduct. Bassompierre was not loth 
 to repay these courtesies and confidences by using his influence 
 with the Queen. He recognized that there had been faults as 
 well as grievances on both sides, and in a private conference with 
 her he induced her to see that she had been wrong in surround- 
 ing herself so closely with her own people, so that she had 
 established, as it were, a foreign camp in the heart of the English 
 Court. He had more difficulty in persuading her that Bucking- 
 ham was not her personal enemy, but his tactfulness eventually 
 succeeded even in this. Under the date of Sunday, the 25 th, 
 he writes in his diary : " Then I went for the Duke, whom I 
 took to the Queen's, who made his peace with herf which I had 
 brought about with infinite trouble. The King came in after- 
 wards, and he also was reconciled with her and caressed her very 
 much, and thanked me for having reconciled the Duke and his 
 wife — then took me to his chamber, where he showed me his 
 jewels, which are very fine." 
 
 The trouble was not at an end, for Henrietta Maria's temper 
 was uncertain, and Buckingham's behaviour still rankled. In the 
 ambassador's diary we find the barometer of her moods rising 
 and falling. On Monday, the 26th, he writes : " I went to the 
 Queen at Somerset [House] and fell out with her." On 
 
294 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Wednesday, the 28th, he writes again : " I went to see the 
 Queen at Somerset, with whom I made it up." But on the 
 following Monday, after some conversation with the Duke, he 
 returned to the Queen with a report of what had been said f " at 
 which she was uneasy and we parted on bad terms." 
 
 On Tuesday he records a pleasant trait in Buckingham's 
 character. " The Duke," he writes, " brought his little daughter 
 to my house as a mark of reconciliation." This was the little 
 Lady Mary, of whom he was passionately fond, and that he 
 was in the habit of taking her about with him, even when he was 
 in the midst of diplomatic affairs of such delicacy and difficulty, 
 shows his real good nature and affection. Eventually Bassom- 
 pierre was brought before the Privy Council, to whom he spoke 
 for upwards of an hour on the subject of the Queen's rights 
 regarding [the liberty of worship and personal attendance by 
 those of her own faith. He also took occasion to repudiate the 
 absurd story about the penitential journey to Tyburn, and in no 
 hesitating way reminded the King and Council of the pledges 
 given to France of religious toleration in the marriage treaty. 
 Having spoken thus " with great vehemence and better to my 
 own liking than I had ever spoken in my life," the ambassador 
 visited the Queen and reported the substance of his address, " at 
 which she was much obliged." Later in the day Buckingham 
 sent word that all in the Council who could speak French would 
 call upon him on the following morning, and that he might 
 entertain hopes of a favourable conclusion, " for the King had 
 told them that his design was to satisfy the King his brother, 
 and to send back Bassompierre well pleased." 
 
 The second conference took place, though Bassompierre was 
 not in an eloquent mood ; " for," he says, " either the weather, 
 or my constitution, or the long and vehement reply I had made 
 the other day, had put in me such a state that I had lost my 
 voice." 
 
 The Duke having arrived with his company, the discussion 
 began, and Buckingham spoke earnestly of the " mischief" that 
 would ensue if the rupture took place between the two nations, 
 and how agreeable it would be to the King if some means of 
 agreement could be found. The conference went to work at this 
 business, says Bassompierre, " and found no great trouble in it, 
 for they were reasonable, and I was moderate in my demands. 
 
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 « 8 
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THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 295 
 
 The greatest difficulty was about the re-establishment of the 
 priests, upon which, however, we at last agreed." 
 
 The proposals to which the French ambassador consented 
 were for a few priests to serve in the Queen's private chapel 
 and household, subject to the King's approval and authority. 
 This was perfectly agreeable to Charles, and on the following 
 day he solemnly confirmed the negotiations. Everything now 
 seemed much more cheerful at Court. The King, having set his 
 house in order, was in the best of tempers, and the Queen 
 was prevailed on by the ambassador to forget past grievances, 
 and forgive those who had offended her. 
 
 On November 9th there was a public demonstration of this 
 new domestic cheerfulness, when the Queen and a number of 
 courtiers went " into the street called Shepside " [Cheapside] 
 to the Lord Mayor's Show, a ceremony which impressed the 
 ambassador as " the greatest that is made at the reception of any 
 officer in the world." Buckingham, by the Queen's expressed 
 desire, rode in her coach, and afterwards, while the party waited 
 for the procession to pass, the Queen played at primero with the 
 Duke and the Earl of Dorset. In the evening Buckingham 
 took the ambassador to the dinner at the Guildhall, where more 
 than eight hundred persons sat down. The City at least has not 
 changed its ancient customs, and it is curious to think that if 
 the ghost of Bassompierre returned to London on the ninth of 
 November of next year he could, if he passed the policeman at 
 the door, sit in the same hall and see the same ceremonies as 
 on that night in the year 1626. 
 
 Buckingham spared no expense in his desire to please the 
 ambassador, and to send him back to France as an emissary 
 of an entente cordiale, and on Sunday, the 1 5th of November, 
 the King took Bassompierre to York House, where, says the 
 ambassador, the Duke gave them " the most magnificent enter- 
 tainment I ever saw in my life. The King supped at one 
 table with the Queen and me, which was served by a complete 
 ballet at each course, with sundry representations, changes of 
 scenery, tables, and music. The Duke waited on the King at 
 table, the Earl of Carlisle on the Queen, and the Earl of Holland 
 on me. After supper the King and me were led into another 
 room, where the assembly was, and one entered it by a kind 
 of turnstile, as in convents, without any confusion, where there 
 
296 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 was a magnificent ballet, in which the Duke danced ; and after- 
 wards we set to and danced country dances till four in the 
 morning ; thence we were shown into vaulted apartments, where 
 there were five different collations." 
 
 Bassompierre does not describe the details of the masque 
 given at this entertainment, though it was a political moral, 
 prepared by Buckingham, with the assistance of his master of 
 ceremonies, Balthazar Gerbier, and specially addressed to the 
 French ambassador. It represented Marie de Medicis, the 
 Queen-Mother, enthroned in the midst of Neptune's court upon 
 the sea dividing England and France, and welcoming Frederick 
 and Elizabeth of the Palatine, with her three daughters and 
 their husbands, the Kings of England, Spain, and the Prince of 
 Piedmont. It was Buckingham's new ideal of foreign policy — 
 France as the ally of England, the Elector Palatine restored to 
 his throne, and peace with Spain. Buckingham's ideal, alas ! 
 was not more substantial than the pasteboard and tinsel and 
 floating draperies of his actors, and, like the masque, a mockery. 
 
 The cost of the banquet at York House was estimated at 
 five or six thousand pounds, and at a time when the Govern- 
 ment had an exhausted treasury, and was using unconstitutional 
 means to get money, it was the cause of grumbling among 
 Puritans and politicians. In the alleys around St. Paul's 
 Churchyard, scurrilous squibs aimed at the Duke's greatness 
 and spattered it with filth, and lewd ballads written by drunken 
 poets in low taverns, were to be found in black letter on many a 
 booth. "There is one scurvy book come forth," writes the 
 garrulous Parson Mead, " called The Devil and the Duke, for 
 which, on Wednesday, was much inquisition in Paul's Church- 
 yard ; " and the same clergyman, describing the great banquet at 
 York House, says that '' some people stick not to prate that his 
 Majesty is in very great favour with the Duke's grace." The 
 tavern-haunters did not lack imagination. In the fumes of 
 Bordeaux wine they saw Buckingham as a scarlet Satan, to 
 whom Charles had sold his soul. The Reverend Mead, who 
 seems to have had some curious correspondents, holds the 
 bottom letter against the fire until it grows brown, and reads a 
 message which is dangerous to leave open on a desk. 
 
 " Sir, — Will you believe that the Duke should be carried 
 in his box by six men to St. James's to tennis, and the 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 297 
 
 King walk by him on foot ? It is true. I doubt not but you 
 have heard of the play in Christmas, which was begun again 
 at the Duke's entering, the King having heard one full act. 
 It is true." Verily, methinks he doth protest too much ! Liars 
 always have the name of truth upon their lips. 
 
 Buckingham did not stoop to whip the mongrels snarling 
 at his heels, or to stop the mouths of slanderers who lurked 
 in dark places. But he had greater cause of trouble and 
 anxiety, and his reputation was to be put to its severest test, 
 and tried not in back alleys, but by the grand jury of the 
 nation. 
 
 Bassompierre's mission, with its friendly outcome and inter- 
 change of courtesies, had secured to Buckingham a guarantee 
 of peace, and a closer alliance, with France. But while the 
 French ambassador was being feasted at York House and 
 Whitehall the political situation between the two nations was 
 steadily assuming a more dangerous and threatening aspect. 
 English merchant ships were being seized in French waters, 
 and London merchants were clamouring to the Privy Council 
 for letters of marque to defend their vessels, and retaliate 
 against these pirates of a friendly power. Then came news 
 of startling gravity. The Duke of Epernon, Governor of 
 Guienne, who hated Richelieu and his policy of peace with 
 England, seized a fleet of two hundred English and Scottish 
 vessels about to sail from Bordeaux with a full cargo of wine 
 upon which they had already paid duty. It was an open act 
 of war, and Charles, who had been in a state of dreadful 
 indecision, now issued an Order in Council for the seizure of 
 all French vessels in English waters. Short of an actual 
 declaration of war, the peace had been broken between France 
 and England. Yet Buckingham refused to face the facts, or 
 rather, faced them with eyes blinded by extraordinary optimism. 
 He still believed that if he crossed over to Paris with the 
 friendly and moderate-minded Bassompierre, he could win over 
 Louis and Richelieu ito his desires. As we have seen, hints 
 had been given to him before that his presence in France 
 would not be tolerated after his conduct during the marriage 
 journey. But now, when he hurried after Bassompierre on his 
 way to Dover, he was with difficulty persuaded by the French 
 ambassador to wait until this proposed embassy had been 
 
298 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 submitted to the King his master. That permission was not given, 
 and Bassompierre himself was disgraced upon his return home. 
 Louis, exasperated by the English attitude over Rochelle, was 
 in no mood for conciliation, and repudiated the agreement 
 negotiated by his ambassador regarding the status of Henrietta's 
 household at the English Court. 
 
 There is no doubt that this refusal hit Buckingham very 
 hard. His amour propre was wounded, as well as his political 
 pride, and it is possible that he covered his humiliation by 
 certain wild and foolish words, which put a different construction 
 on the conduct of the French Government, and gave occasion 
 to the romantic story which is still popularly believed. Bio- 
 graphical writers still affirm that England went to war with 
 France because the Duke of Buckingham, baulked in his desire 
 to see his mistress, the French Queen, vowed to march to 
 the French capital at the head of an English army, and, as 
 a conquering hero, to meet again the woman he loved with all 
 the passion of his impetuous heart. 
 
 The story is not less ridiculous because it was commonly 
 believed at the time, and is borne out to some extent by words 
 attributed to the Duke. Clarendon says that he openly 
 declared that " he would see and speak with that lady in spite 
 of the strength and power of France ; " and Roger Coke says 
 that on another occasion Buckingham was heard to declare 
 that if he could not enter France peacefully he would force his 
 way to Paris with an army. Madame de Motteville also, 
 writing from the French point of view, says in her Memoirs 
 that Buckingham raised a division between the two crowns 
 in order that he might afterwards have an opportunity of 
 returning to France as a peacemaker. 
 
 No student of English history can take seriously a story 
 which would have been admirable as an episode in "the 
 Romaunt of the Rose," but is incredible as the cause of 
 war between two modern nations. But we need not discredit 
 the words attributed to the Duke by the Earl of Clarendon. 
 They are very characteristic of Buckingham, for we may 
 decidedly believe that, in private conversation with men like 
 Holland and Carlisle, he may have kept up his romantic pose 
 of passion for the French Queen, and made the foolish vaunt of 
 marching to Paris as a lover and conqueror. He had need 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 299 
 
 of a good deal of rosy imagination to colour bald and ugly 
 facts, for truly his position as Minister for War, and, as we 
 should now call it, First Lord of the Admiralty, was lamentable 
 and desperate. Apart altogether from the threatened war with 
 France, it was an almost hopeless task to meet his engage- 
 ments with the Protestant allies in Europe, and to furnish a 
 fleet to carry out his enterprises against Spain. 
 
 In dissolving Parliament Charles had in an almost literal 
 sense burnt his boats. Having failed in obtaining the heavy 
 supplies necessary for war, he had to raise money by desperate 
 and dangerous methods. Acting upon bad old precedents, 
 he fell back upon " free gifts," a " forced loan," " tonnage and 
 poundage," and other expedients for extracting money from the 
 nation without Parliamentary authority. He also sold his own 
 gold plate, as a sign that he would not spare the property of the 
 Crown when appealing to the pockets of his people. But none 
 of these methods were successful in raising the enormous sums 
 required. The City, which had been applied to for a loan of 
 £100,000 on the security of the Crown jewels, flatly refused, and 
 only one-fifth of that sum was provided upon strong pressure 
 from the King by certain wealthy aldermen. The " free gift " 
 failed ignominiously. The majority of people applied to either 
 pleaded poverty or boldly declared that they would pay nothing 
 save by the authority of Parliament. The " forced loan " raised 
 a very storm of indignation, and "passive resistance" became 
 the order of the day, not only among Commoners determined 
 to defend their liberties, but, what was more ominous to the 
 power of the Crown, among noblemen, who were equally inspired 
 by the traditions of the English Constitution as handed down 
 by those barons who had given the Great Charter to the nation. 
 Among the peers who thus stood out against the loan were 
 Essex, Lincoln, Warwick, Clare, Bolingbroke, and Saye. A 
 more dangerous opposition rose in another quarter. The 
 Judges refused to recognize the legality of the loan, and this 
 gave encouragement to the people generally to resist it as an 
 illegal act. 
 
 But Charles was not daunted. He was indeed a man deeply 
 in debt, and with heavy responsibilities to meet, who for the 
 sake of temporary relief was prepared to face every risk. He 
 dismissed the Lord Chief Justice, then Sir Randal Crew, and 
 
300 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 appointed in his stead Nicholas Hyde, who had shown his zeal 
 for the Court party by drawing up his answers to the impeach- 
 ment of Buckingham. A vacancy in the office of Chief Justice 
 of the Common Pleas was filled by Sergeant Richardson, who 
 was a kinsman by marriage of the Duke. The loan now became 
 a forced one in the full strength of the word, and the tyranny of 
 King John when he bled his people was hardly more violent 
 than the way in which the officers of Charles I., after 
 centuries in which the liberties of the people had been estab- 
 lished by law, proceeded with their business. Buckingham 
 seems to have presided at times over the sittings of the loan 
 commission, and the stories told of his conduct on those occa- 
 sions, whether true or false, did not increase his popularity. 
 
 " Shall I tell you what they talk at London ? " writes the 
 Rev. Joseph Mead, whose eager ears heard every tale. " That 
 the Duke should say he would have money if it were in the 
 kingdom. That the French ambassador having gotten an 
 inclination from the King to Parliament to settle the Queen's 
 jointure, the Duke should say to his Majesty, 'By God, Sir, 
 there shall be no Parliament ! ' Some Londoners which told 
 me this, told me also, that at Hicks's Hall, where some 
 denied to subscribe the loan, the Duke should say, "Sirrah, 
 take heed what you do. Did you not speak treason at such a 
 time ? ' The Earl of Dorset, asking a fellow who pleaded he 
 was unable, what a trade he was of, and being answered a 
 tailor, • Come, come,' saith he, ' one snip will make amends for 
 all,' and other such like, which they say was not wont to be in 
 days of yore." 
 
 Buckingham's shoe was the one that pinched most, for he 
 carried upon his shoulders the greatest burden of the Govern- 
 ment, which was almost at a standstill for ready money. He 
 was unable to send out the supplies promised for the support 
 of the allies in Denmark, Sweden, and Germany, and at home 
 the Navy was rotting to pieces. The sailors were without their 
 wages, without boots, and almost without food, so that the 
 ragamuffin crews were in a state of mutiny, and deserting at 
 every opportunity. Many of these men found their way to 
 London, and, desperate with hunger and suffering, stormed 
 the offices of the Admiralty, threatened Sir William Russell, the 
 paymaster, that they would pull his house about his ears unless 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 301 
 
 their wages and arrears were duly paid, and even forced their 
 way into York House and Whitehall. On a Tuesday in 
 December six sea captains entered forcibly into the Duke's 
 chamber at Whitehall as he sat at dinner, and protesting that 
 they had served the King long without pay, which was not the 
 custom of his Majesty's predecessors, nor of any prince in the 
 world besides, supposed that it was all " along of him." " Where- 
 unto his grace replied, asking them if they stood not in awe 
 of the late proclamation which, on pain of hanging, forbade all 
 soldier mariners to come to the Court in troops about any 
 business ; to which the captains answered him again, that if 
 they were hanged there were more others to be hanged in their 
 company, and from this proceeded to such uncouth language as 
 his Excellency was fain to yield, and to promise them upon his 
 honour they should very speedily be satisfied." * On another 
 day some sailors on Tower Hill set a boy up on a scaffold to 
 proclaim that the King had promised to pay their wages, and 
 that if that was not done the Duke would lose his head. 
 
 Buckingham's naval plans were so disastrously delayed by 
 lack of money to victual the fleets and provide men and muni- 
 tion of war that he was in danger of becoming ridiculous — a 
 thing worse to him than failure. There is a curious conversa- 
 tion reported in a letter from a Mr. Pory to the Rev. Joseph 
 Mead. 
 
 " On Wednesday last there was a certain knight that asked 
 the Duke when the fleet would set sail. The Duke answered, 
 •Within ten days.' — Kn. : 'So it hath been said these six 
 months, that the fleet would set sail within fourteen days, and 
 therefore I cannot believe it will be gone within ten days.' — Du. : 
 ' If it be not gone within ten days, I will give ten of my teeth.' 
 — Kn. : ' One of your houses, my lord, would do me more good 
 than ten of your teeth. I will lay money against one of your 
 houses that the fleet will not be gone by then.' — Du. : ' I will 
 lay no wagers.' — Kn. : ' I will tell your lordship a reason why 
 the fleet cannot be gone so soon : your victuals are naught, 
 your beer stinks, and those that should go take exception to 
 both.' — Du. : ' It is true there are bad victuals and bad beer, 
 but better is provided to put in their place.' In fine, this knight 
 told somebody in my hearing that he did not believe the fleet 
 
 * "Court and Times. '' 
 
THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 would go from the coast of England this year. O tempora ! 
 O mores t" 
 
 The anonymous knight's prophecy was not fulfilled to the 
 letter, because, as a matter of fact, an English fleet did put to 
 * sea in October of 1626 under Lord Willoughby. But Bucking- 
 ham was haunted by ill luck. The very forces of nature con- 
 spired against him, and Willoughby's ships, encountering a 
 great storm in the Bay of Biscay, were so battered about that 
 they struggled home again without having fired a shot at a 
 Spanish ship or a Spanish coast town. This was before the 
 seizure of the home fleet at Bordeaux, and that event, which 
 led to the last grave breach between England and France, was 
 a reprisal for the capture of three ships of Rouen, suspected of 
 being laden with Spanish cargoes, by Buckingham's brother-in- 
 law, the Earl of Denbigh. In the mean time the English shores 
 and the port towns had been called upon to supply a fleet of 
 fifty-six ships, and the City of London had been assessed at 
 twenty ships. This was a fresh cause of grievance against the 
 Government, and some of the maritime shires were hardy 
 enough to dispute the precedent. The City of London had 
 also argued the matter, but, after a severe reprimand from the 
 Council and after long delay, they had eventually furnished the 
 number of vessels demanded. 
 
 These were put under the command of Pennington, who 
 had, it will be remembered, been so puzzled by the secret orders 
 and counter-orders regarding the loan-ships at Rochelle. The 
 King himself now instructed Buckingham to send him with his 
 small squadron to attack six ships recently bought by the 
 French King and, according to information, lying in the Havre 
 roads. On the 24th of December the Duke gave these orders 
 to Pennington — 
 
 " When you shall come where these ships ride," he wrote, 
 "you are according to your best discretion to give the 
 captains or commanders of them some occasion to fall out with 
 you, and to shoot at you ; and thereupon, presently, with the 
 best force you can make, you are to repulse the assault, and so 
 to set upon them with your own and all the ships of your fleet, 
 and that, having once begun with them, you may be sure, God 
 willing, not to fail to take them, or if they will not yield, to sink 
 or fire them. If because they are but few ships, and, as I am 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 303 
 
 informed, not well manned, they shall not dare, upon any 
 occasion, to meddle first with you, then you are to take 
 occasion to pick some quarrel with them upon some suspicion of 
 their intent to lie there to colour enemy's goods, or countenance 
 his ships, and to secure or take them, or otherwise to sink and 
 fire them. In which you are, as you see occasion, to make so 
 probable and just a ground for a quarrel as may be, and if you 
 can, to make it their quarrel, not yours. But, howsoever, if you 
 can meet with them you may not fail to take, sink, or fire them." * 
 Captain Pennington was one of those seamen whom England 
 has never lacked since the British Navy has existed. He was 
 ready to obey orders to the letter, without question, and to take 
 any ships under his flag against any enemy on the high seas. 
 He would put up a good fight as long as his men would serve 
 the guns. So with his sailing orders and the City of London 
 ships, of which he was not proud — being in his sound judgment 
 of timber " very mean things " and with more " land-lubbers " 
 than able seamen — away he went to Havre to do his brisk 
 little job. But once again Buckingham as Lord Admiral had 
 no luck, which even a Nelson needs to give him a chance of 
 victory. The Council had been wrongly informed, and not a 
 French pennon was sighted off Havre. So back came Pen- 
 nington with the temper of a dog, to confess his failure and to 
 complain bitterly of his bare ships, scarce munition, and ineffi- 
 cient crews. But now the tide of luck, which had been flowing 
 so steadily in an evil direction, did at last seem to turn in our 
 favour. It is true that the forced loan had roused a dangerous 
 resistance in the nation — the Earl of Lincoln was committed to 
 the Tower for scheming against it, and many bold gentlemen, 
 among whom were Wentworth, Pym, and one other named 
 Hampden, who was afterwards to be so famous as the resister 
 of "ship-money" — but the stern measures threatened against 
 these passive resisters had scared the majority of people into 
 submission, and money began to flow in, not furiously but 
 enough to relieve the desperate and immediate poverty of the 
 Council. New ships had also been supplied by the Shires, and 
 Pennington again set forth, with instructions from Buckingham 
 to seize or sink the merchant fleets of France. This time he 
 was more successful. France had practically no warships to 
 
 * Domestic State Papers. 
 
304 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 defend her trade, and Pennington swept the seas and brought 
 many rich prizes into English ports, which, being promptly 
 sold, provided money to pay the long-deferred wages of the 
 seamen and to supply munitions of war. 
 
 In the beginning of the new year, therefore, Buckingham's 
 hopes mounted high, and with every prospect, as he thought, 
 for splendid naval successes, to make amends for all previous 
 misfortunes, resolved to command in person a great fleet for 
 the relief of Rochelle. Yet, with all his optimism, he had grave 
 anxieties, although there was still no formal declaration of war 
 between France and England, the peace had now been broken 
 on both sides, and the proposed expedition to Rochelle would 
 make conciliation impossible. France therefore was added to 
 Spain and Austria among the enemies of England, the two 
 greatest powers in Europe, against whom our own allies, 
 Denmark, the Netherlands, and the German Protestants, under 
 Mansfeld, were at this time almost impotent. The poverty of 
 the English Government without a Parliament voting subsidies 
 now made it impossible for Buckingham to send more than a 
 mean proportion of the money and men promised to King 
 Christian. Charles had offered him jewels, but they were of no 
 more value to him than the glittering pebbles of a sea-beach. 
 Then, by a desperate effort, with the press-gangs at work, 
 Buckingham raised four regiments for service in the Nether- 
 lands, under command of Sir Charles Morgans, but they deserted 
 almost as rapidly as they were recruited, and when they were 
 shipped for the Elbe in April of the year 1627, they mustered 
 only a beggarly remnant of 2,472 out of the 6,000 which should 
 have been their full strength. Afterwards they were made up 
 to a total of 5,000 by drafts of men who had refused to pay the 
 forced loan, but these were rapidly thinned down by disease 
 and desertion. 
 
 Buckingham, though confident now that with his English 
 fleets he would strike terror into the heart of France, and bring 
 money into the King's treasury by the capture of rich prizes, 
 realized that on the battleground of Europe it would be a forlorn 
 hope to make headway against the combined powers of France, 
 Spain, and Austria. He resolved, therefore, to negotiate 
 secretly with Spain for a treaty of peace. It was a wild idea, 
 and one which, if it leaked out too soon, would endanger his 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 305 
 
 reputation at home as well as abroad. Private negotiations with 
 the enemy would to private foes smell uncommonly of treason. 
 Indeed, when a whisper of it came to the ears of Lord Conway 
 — he who had been the most subservient flatterer of the Duke — 
 " Judas " was the word he used in his first surprise. Yet there 
 is no reason to suppose that Buckingham took more than the 
 initial steps without the King's knowledge, and, after all, a 
 diplomatic " feeler " towards a treaty with Spain and a general 
 peace in Germany was not in any way dishonourable to the 
 Duke's character, though not creditable to his judgment of the 
 political situation in Europe. 
 
 This secret business was strangely handled. It was impos- 
 sible to communicate direct with Spain on such a matter, after 
 all that had passed, but two intermediaries unsuspected of 
 diplomatic office were made use of. One was Gerbier, the 
 pettifogging court painter of England and Buckingham's confi- 
 dential agent, the other, great Rubens, the court painter of 
 France. As a Spaniard of renown in Europe, the friend of 
 Philip IV. and his ministers, as well as friendly to Buckingham, 
 who had made his acquaintance in Paris, he was in a position to 
 forward in a private way to the Spanish Government any tenta- 
 tive proposal made by the Duke. Gerbier crossed over to Paris, 
 ostensibly on a mission to purchase pictures and art treasures, 
 but really to confer with the Spanish painter. The only result 
 was that Buckingham's letters came to the hands of Olivares, 
 who, while playing with the Duke through his intermediaries, 
 showed the documents to the French ambassador to Madrid. 
 This was followed by an alliance between France and Spain 
 against England, and Buckingham found that he had been 
 tricked. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to go on with 
 the war at the same ruinous cost of blood and treasure, limited 
 only by the difficulty of obtaining men and money, while press- 
 ing forward the great expedition to Rochelle. 
 
 Such was the situation which Buckingham had to face in the 
 early part of 1627, and to do him justice it must be admitted 
 that he faced it with immense courage, energy, and optimism. 
 
 While Kate, his Duchess, and the Countess, his mother, were 
 going down on their knees to him,* imploring him with tears and 
 passionate entreaties not to carry out his intention to command 
 
 * " Court and Times." 
 X 
 
306 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 the fleet in person, one learns by the letter-writers of the time 
 that they and the public generally were utterly sceptical of his 
 fulfilling this design. But Buckingham, though he swore to his 
 wife, to soothe her, that he would not go, was in desperate 
 earnest, and absorbed himself in the details of preparing a fleet 
 of thirty great ships. At this time, however — that is to say, in 
 the month of March — he suffered a great private grief. His 
 little son, the Earl of Coventry, was taken dangerously ill with 
 brain fever, and the Duke was so seriously perturbed that, in 
 spite of the stress of public business, no one was allowed to see 
 him. A few days later the poor child died, and was buried in 
 Henry VIII.'s chapel. After this sorrowful interruption of his 
 labours, Buckingham plunged again into his work at the 
 Admiralty, and it was at last brought home to the scoffers that 
 he was really serious in his intent to take command of the 
 proposed v expedition. Writing to the Rev. Joseph 'Mead on 
 April 13th, a correspondent says : "The fleet for new service, it 
 is thought, will be ready about a fortnight hence, wherein, it is 
 confidently said, his Grace goes Admiral himself, his cabin and 
 the cabins of his attendants being prepared in the ship. Sir 
 John Watts goes captain, and my Lord High Chamberlain, the 
 Earl of Lindsey, Vice-Admiral. The Duke saith (as it is 
 reported) that before midsummer he will and shall be more 
 honoured and beloved of the Commons than ever the Earl of 
 Essex was. I know none but wish he may perform such a 
 service as might deserve it." 
 
 In another letter, dated May nth : — 
 
 " The last week was a great collier-ship pressed to be for his 
 Grace's living and store of provision, and many carpenters at 
 work making stalls for four fat oxen, two milch cows, two goats, 
 and coops for poultry and fowl. His trumpeters go about to 
 knights' and aldermen's houses to take their farewell and have 
 something given them. His horses, which his friends send him, 
 are come in, gallant ones, and bravely furnished. The provi- 
 sions [warlike stores] which have been already made and still 
 are going out of the Tower, are strong and exceedingly effective. 
 The choicest and well-nigh all the most sufficient men you 
 command in the Kingdom, as well as the most skilful at sea, 
 are to be employed in this service ; so that if it should miscarry 
 (which God forbid) many are afraid the loss will be almost 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 307 
 
 irrecoverable. It is said that his Grace makes a farewell supper 
 to their Majesties, and to-morrow at night is a masque to be at 
 York House." 
 
 At that masque, which was of a magnificent character, 
 Buckingham had an allegory performed in which he played the 
 chief part, after him coming Envy, " with divers open-mouthed 
 dogs' heads, representing the people's barking," and the figures 
 of Fame and Truth and others symbolical of the Duke's hopes 
 and virtues. Never, perhaps, had Buckingham's vanity been so 
 publicly displayed as in this theatrical performance before the 
 King and Queen. 
 
 Yet in London and in the country his name was being 
 cursed by many wretched men, and by many weeping wives 
 and children. To provide his crews and army, pressgangs 
 were at work, seizing any stalwart fellow who came to their 
 hands. The Domestic State Papers of this time are full of such 
 grim accounts, and of reports of the violence and tumult 
 throughout the kingdom. Many of those pressed revolted in a 
 body and overpowered their guards. Many others made their 
 escape singly, or were rescued by their friends. And those who 
 were taken as prisoners to Plymouth and Portsmouth to man 
 the fleet became an appalling source of anxiety to the naval and 
 military officers, for in many cases these ragged regiments were 
 in actual danger of starvation, and it was often necessary to 
 permit them to plunder the villages through which they passed 
 in order that they might obtain food, in view of the supplies 
 delayed by, or not forthcoming from the authorities. 
 
 The Duke himself, having to settle a thousand details of 
 administration, was kept to London longer than he had hoped, 
 and the King went first to Portsmouth and Plymouth, where he 
 displayed great energy in reviewing the troops now assembled 
 there, and in visiting various ships of the fleet, upon which he 
 was royally entertained. On May 31st, Buckingham, however, 
 rode swiftly to Dover, and embarking there sailed then with 
 twenty-seven vessels to the general rendezvous, having made a 
 reconnaissance to discredit a wild story there, causing a panic 
 among the people, that a Spanish Armada was bearing down 
 upon the English coast. After this adventure, Buckingham 
 hurried back to London to conclude his business and give final 
 advice as to the conduct of affairs during his absence. Then 
 
308 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 he had a solemn leave-taking of the Privy Council, and on 
 Wednesday, June 13th, of the year 1627, set out at last for Ports- 
 mouth. To his wife and family he had said no long farewells, 
 though he loved them. He slipped away from them like a 
 guilty man. For his poor Duchess had no sympathy with this 
 perilous enterprise. On her knees she had begged him not to 
 go, and he, moved, as we cannot doubt, by her passionate grief, 
 had weakly and falsely vowed that he would not take command 
 of the expedition in person. Kate Buckingham no doubt was 
 not right in demanding such a promise from her husband, and 
 Buckingham might well have said with the Elizabethan poet — 
 
 " I could not love thee, dear, so much, 
 Loved I not honour more." 
 
 But Kate, though she had outwardly renounced her faith to 
 marry him, clung, it is certain, to the Roman Catholic cause, and 
 it was impossible to her, therefore, to see any righteousness in 
 her husband's mission to rescue the Protestants of Rochelle. 
 But apart from this her passionate love for him filled her with a 
 thousand fears, and she could not forget the agony of his 
 absence in Spain, which, if he went to Rochelle, would be 
 repeated with a the additional torture of knowing that his very 
 life was in danger. There is a melancholy and piteous letter 
 from the Duchess, which she sent to her husband at this time, 
 preserved in our State Papers. 
 
 " I confess," she wrote, " I did ever fear that you would be 
 catched, for there was no other likelihood after all that show 
 but you must needs go. For my part, I have been a very 
 miserable woman hitherto that never could have you keep at 
 home. But now I will ever look to be so, until some blessed 
 occasion comes to draw you quite from the Court For there is 
 none more miserable than I am now, and till you leave this life 
 of a courtier, which you have been ever since I knew you, I shall 
 ever think myself unhappy. I am the unfortunatest of all other, 
 that ever when I am. with child I must have so much cause of 
 sorrow as to have you go from me, but I never had so great 
 a cause of grief as now I have. God of his mercy give me 
 patience, and if I were sure my soul would be well, I could wish 
 myself to be out of this miserable world, for till then I shall not 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 309 
 
 be happy. Now I will no more write to hope you do not go, 
 but must betake myself to my prayers for your safe and pros- 
 perous journey, which I will not fail to do, and for quick return, 
 but never whilst I live will I trust you again, nor never will put 
 you to your oath for anything again. 
 
 " I wonder why you sent me word by Crow * that you would 
 see me shortly to put me in new hopes ; I pray God never 
 woman may love a man as I have done you, that none may 
 feel that which I have done for you. 
 
 " Since there is no remedy/but that you must go, I pray God 
 send you gone quickly, that you may be quickly at home again ; 
 and whosoever wished you to this journey, beside yourself, that 
 they may be punished, for it will be a course of a great deal of 
 grief to me. But that is no matter. Now there is no remedy 
 but patience, which God send me ! I pray God send me wise, 
 and not to hurt myself with grieving. Now I am very well, I 
 thank God, and so is Mall. And so I bid you farewell, 
 " Your poor grieved, 
 
 " And obedient wife, 
 
 "K. Buckingham 
 
 "I pray give order before you go for the jewels, which I 
 owe you. Burn this, for God's sake. Go not to land, and pity 
 me, for I feel [most miserable] at this time. Be not angry with 
 me for writing these, for my heart is so full I cannot choose, 
 because I did not look for it. 
 
 " I would to Jesus that there were any way in the world to 
 put you off this journey with your murderers. If any pains or 
 any suffering of mine could do it, I were a most happy woman ; 
 but you have sent yourself, and made me miserable ; God for- 
 give you for it." 
 
 This letter, the only one we have found by Duchess Kate 
 in which there is a note of revolt and rather querulous com- 
 plaint, hints at domestic troubles of a rather pitiful kind. 
 Although there are later letters from wife to ..husband which 
 show that Kate had forgiven George for all his waywardness, 
 and that to the end she loved him almost with adoration, we 
 cannot help believing that for a time at least her faith in him 
 
 * Sir Sackville Crow, Treasurer of the Navy, 
 
310 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 was severely tried, and that she has been painfully awakened 
 to the many faults and weaknesses in the man who had been 
 her hero. 
 
 During his absence in Spain, when she had been weary of 
 waiting for his long-delayed return, there had come upon every 
 breeze rumours of scandal tainting to Buckingham's fame. In 
 the chambers of a Court whispers and cruel words are heard 
 by ears not eager to play the eavesdropper, and there are 
 always men and women who find a kind of devil's sport in 
 sticking sharp little arrows into a sensitive heart. It was 
 impossible for Duchess Kate to be quitej ignorant of the way in 
 which the Duke had relieved the tedious time in Madrid. But 
 much harder to bear must have been the news of those extra» 
 ordinary adventures in France with the Queen, who was so weak 
 in allowing herself to be endangered by the Englishman's 
 passionate advances. What explanation Buckingham had 
 given at home about an amour which had startled the whole 
 world we cannot know or guess. He had bragged about it 
 openly to friends not distinguished by discretion. How did he 
 reconcile it with those protestations of constancy to the beautiful 
 mother of his children ? 
 
 Often she must have been bitterly perplexed by secrets 
 which he did not share with her. She guessed, with all the 
 brooding jealousy of a fond wife who is, the home-bird, that 
 this splendid man of hers had relations with other women, of 
 which she knew nothing but what reached her through chance 
 words and little clues dropped carelessly. For many months 
 now he had been absorbed in political schemes and mysterious 
 intrigues. There was so much in his life unknown to the 
 woman who lay in his bed at night, and she hated the thought 
 that she did not possess all of him, and that his natural candour 
 was now blurred so that she could no longer see clearly into the 
 mirror of his soul. 
 
 The Duke's mother was not more ready to give her blessing 
 to his adventure against France. She had the same religious 
 scruples as the Duchess, being now an avowed Roman Catholic, 
 and also the popular, clamour against her son, and the distress 
 of the kingdom, had made her lose faith in his wisdom. For 
 the first time, therefore, Buckingham was not supported by that 
 domestic adoration which had surrounded him for years, and 
 
THE QUARREL WITH FRANCE 811 
 
 to a man of his genuinely affectionate nature this must have 
 been a real grief as he rode on his way to Portsmouth. 
 
 Here, however, the King's friendship and confidence in him, 
 the homage of the fleet to him as Lord Admiral, the farewell 
 feasting on board his flag-ship, the work still to be done 
 before the ships could sail, and the general excitement of thus 
 exercising supreme command over great bodies of men engaged 
 in a great adventure, must have stirred his blood with the joy 
 of life. It must be acknowledged, and will be acknowledged 
 before the story of this enterprise is finished, that Buckingham 
 had many of the qualities that go to make a great soldier or a 
 great seaman. He was no mere puppet in fine clothes, with a 
 handsome face and the heart of a mouse. Before the fleet was 
 under way he showed great activity, and the ability not only 
 to command but to be obeyed. He shipped his men and 
 horses speedily, and then with a guard went up and down 
 Portsmouth to gather in the stragglers. He cashiered one 
 captain for being drunk in the town after every man had been 
 ordered to join his ship, and by court-martial sentenced to be 
 hanged a boatswain who in his cups had jeered at the voyage. 
 This man, however, he pardoned and dismissed, being moved 
 by mercy. 
 
 His fleet consisted of five squadrons — his own, as admiral, of 
 twenty-five sail ; Lord Harvey's, as vice-admiral, of twenty ; 
 and Captain Pennington's, of twenty-five — in all seventy-seven 
 ships. The soldiers on board — they were the sweepings of many 
 towns and villages by his Majesty's pressgangs — amounted to 
 about 5000 foot and 200 horse ; but, on the other hand, there 
 were many men belonging to noble families of England among 
 the officers. About one of them, a Colonel Gray, a curious 
 story is told, illustrating the superstition of the time. He had a 
 cabin in the Duke's ship, and Buckingham was on very friendly 
 terms with him. But for some reason or other before the fleet 
 sailed he was transferred to another vessel. 
 
 " Will you hear what tale they have in London about this," 
 writes the Rev. Joseph Meade to Sir Martin Stuteville — " viz. 
 that the old countess, solicitous to know what should become of 
 her son, consulted Dr. Lambe " [next year torn to pieces by the 
 populace as a dealer in black art], " who showed her in a glass 
 a big, fat man with a reddish face, brown beard, an iron arm, 
 
312 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 and a long dagger, etc., which she presently took to be Colonel 
 Gray, the description in all things fitting him ; and therefore 
 suspected he should kill her son. Hereupon she writes to the 
 Duke, and tells she had such a dream, which much troubled her, 
 and therefore anxiously desires, that either Colonel Gray might 
 not go at all, or be removed into another ship, which was done 
 accordingly." 
 
 At last, after an affectionate farewell from the King, and 
 after more troubles than might have daunted the stoutest 
 heart, Buckingham, on Wednesday morning of June 27th, set 
 sail with a fair wind, and on board he turned his face to 
 France. 
 
 And not only Charles must have watched those disappearing 
 sails with anxious hope, for with the fleet went the hope of those 
 among the people of England who still cherished the traditions 
 of the past, and who still remembered the great exploits of the 
 Elizabethan seamen, that Buckingham with all his faults would 
 redeem the disasters which of late years had humiliated the 
 spirit of a proud nation. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 
 
 IT was on the evening of July ioth that the English fleet 
 reached the Island of Rhe, opposite Rochelle on the main- 
 land, and when Buckingham signalled to the ships to anchor off 
 St. Martin's, the chief town of the island. He was faced at 
 once by a difficult military problem, and by an extraordinary 
 political situation which further increased that difficulty. He 
 had come to relieve Rochelle. But as yet he did not know 
 whether the Rochellois themselves were willing to be rescued 
 by English forces. Rebels as they were against their own King, 
 it was possible — and afterwards was made clear — that they 
 would hesitate in availing themselves of foreign intervention. 
 But apart from this remarkable and almost farcical position, 
 Buckingham had to face the fact that his fleet would be locked 
 up in an untenable position, if he sailed within the narrow strait 
 dividing the island from the mainland. Not only was Rochelle 
 blockaded by a French force occupying the fort of St. Louis 
 beyond its walls with an open line of communications to its 
 base of supplies, but the Island of Rh£ was in the hands of the 
 French Royalists. At St. Martin's there was a strong fortifica- 
 tion well garrisoned, and a smaller fort of La Pr6e facing the 
 mainland. Buckingham realized with his military instinct that 
 the key to the situation was on the island, and that he must gain 
 possession of that as the base of operations for the English 
 army, and as a harbourage for English ships with the open sea 
 beyond. There were other advantages in getting possession of 
 the island. Its salt marshes would be a source of revenue to 
 England if it were permanently occupied, and its position close 
 to the Protestant provinces of France would be of infinite danger 
 and anxiety to France if garrisoned by the English. 
 
 3i3 
 
314 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Buckingham called a council of war, and his opinion was 
 not disputed by his commanders. Two days were spent in 
 collecting the fleet, which had been somewhat scattered in the 
 Bay of Biscay, and in firing in a rather futile manner at La Pree. 
 On the afternoon of July 12, however, Buckingham prepared 
 to land his troops at a point on the east coast of the island, 
 opposite Rochelle, on the mainland, and considerably to the 
 south of St. Martin's. 
 
 The landing was not to be effected without a severe encounter 
 with the enemy. The governor of St. Martin's, a French officer 
 named Toiras, left his fort at the first signal of the English sails, 
 and hurried down to defend the shore with a force of two 
 hundred cavalry and twelve hundred foot. The advantage was 
 on his side. It is always a dangerous thing to bring a great 
 body of men in small boats on to a hostile shore. In the case 
 of Buckingham's troops it was a deadly business. Raw recruits 
 and pressed men, inspired by no fighting spirit, and shirking 
 death, they were put into an immediate panic when, upon 
 springing to land in small boatloads, they were charged by the 
 French horse. Many of them fled like rabbits along the shore, 
 to be shot down by the enemy's musketeers ; many of them 
 rushed back to the sea, to seek the shelter of the boats from 
 the trampling horses and flashing swords. So terrible was the 
 disorder that bodies of men were forced into the waves by their 
 panic-stricken comrades and miserably drowned, as were some 
 of the officers who vainly endeavoured to rally them. It was 
 now that the Duke of Buckingham's personality counted for 
 much. All the best qualities of his nature were revealed in this 
 hour- of danger. Putting oft" from his ship to the land, he saw 
 with anger the folly and cowardice of his men, and standing up 
 in the head of his boat, shouted to them to remember their 
 manhood and stand firm. Then springing to shore with drawn 
 sword, or, as one account says, cudgel in hand, went among his 
 men, "beating some and threatening others," and shouting 
 words of such encouragement to fire, that he recalled them to 
 their senses. 
 
 In the mean time Sir John Burrough, Buckingham's com- 
 mander-in-chief, and Sir Alexander Brett, another of the 
 generals, had brought two regiments and the ordnance to land, 
 and turned the guns upon the French horse, doing great 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 315 
 
 execution upon them, so that they were forced to fly, leaving their 
 dead upon the ground, among whom were many of the French 
 nobility. This put heart into the English troops, and, rallying 
 round their colours, the enemy was obliged to give way and 
 retire to the forts. But the issue of this first contest was a 
 success not without shame. Many„of the troops, seeing the 
 peril of their comrades on shore, had refused to leave the 
 shelter of the ships until Buckingham, going back to them in 
 one of the boats, chastised them with words and blows. Sir 
 William Courteney's regiment flatly refused to budge. With 
 such a spirit of cowardice among his men, Buckingham could 
 not flatter himself with much unction upon having gained the 
 day. 
 
 But shamed as he must have been by the conduct of his 
 troops, he behaved as a chivalrous gentleman to the enemy. 
 They offered to ransom the bodies of their slain who were of 
 high rank ; but Buckingham, great as was his need for gold, 
 refused to accept such money as this, and sent back the dead 
 bodies of those valorous Frenchmen in his own waggons, giving 
 every care also to the wounded.* 
 
 Sir William Beecher, Secretary of the Army, as he was 
 called, and the Marquis de Soubise, were now sent to Rochelle 
 to discover the attitude of the French Protestants, and to 
 inquire as to the amount of co-operation they were likely to 
 give. The answer they brought back must have been infinitely 
 disheartening to Buckingham. He had come to them as a 
 deliverer, but they were by no means eager to welcome him 
 with open arms and grateful aid. They were almost panic- 
 stricken at his arrival, afraid that alliance with the English 
 might lead in the long run to the absolute ruin of their religion 
 in France, and to their own certain death. Only a beggarly 
 score of volunteers were willing at first to fight under the 
 English colours, and these increasing to two hundred and fifty 
 men, were all the Rochellois who accepted Buckingham as a 
 champion of their cause. Apart from these, who counted for 
 nothing, Rochelle demanded time to consult the Protestant 
 Leagues in the kingdom before consenting to their own rescue 
 by English arms. Buckingham's expedition was at once made 
 ridiculous. Instead of being an heroic figure — the saviour of 
 
 * Letter from Mr. Beaulieu to Sir Thomas Pickering. — " Court and Times." 
 
316 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 French Protestantism — he was reduced to a position of 
 absurdity. But he had gone too far to turn back. After most 
 desperate measures in England to raise this fleet and army, 
 after such great promises of victory and such boastfulness of 
 revenge upon France, he could never turn back without a single 
 glorious achievement. He must rescue Rochelle in spite of 
 itself. 
 
 In coming to this fatal decision, Buckingham, it must be 
 remembered, had greater political and military projects than 
 regarded Rochelle alone. At that time the religious differences 
 in France, and the hatred of many nobles to Louis and Riche- 
 lieu, whose life-long policy was to strengthen the power of the 
 Crown by crushing the great feudal lords, had created a state of 
 internal trouble in France which threatened to break out into a 
 terrible civil war. Buckingham had already made overtures to 
 the Due de Rohan, the great Protestant Prince of the South of 
 France, to the Due de Lorraine, the lover of the Duchesse de 
 Chevreuse, who, it will be remembered, accompanied Henrietta 
 Maria to England, and to the Comte de Soissons, a member of 
 the Blood Royal of France, who, hating Richelieu, was intriguing 
 with the Prince of Savoy, to invade his own country. Bucking- 
 ham therefore believed that, with these forces co-operating with 
 him, Louis would soon be impotent. Nourishing such hopes as 
 these, which were not so wildly extravagant as some now think, 
 Buckingham was resolved to carry out his enterprise, and as a 
 first step to gain absolute possession of the Island of Rhe\ 
 
 It was not an easy task, but Buckingham's military instinct 
 was not at fault when he marched towards St. Martin's to lay 
 siege to the French fort. 
 
 His behaviour during the march, as afterwards during the 
 long siege, was that of a good soldier and a noble gentleman. 
 In the course of this narrative of his life Buckingham has been 
 pourtrayed with all his faults, and his follies, vanities, and vices 
 have not been slurred over. But now, apart from the gigantic 
 error of ever plunging into this war with France, Buckingham 
 stands out as a chivalrous figure. With him, as with many 
 men, peril and hardship brought out the true mettle of his 
 nature. Exiled from the luxury and temptation of Court life, 
 the superficial blemishes of his character were wiped out by the 
 wholesome discipline of an arduous campaign. The things that 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 317 
 
 matter in life became more clear to him when face to face with 
 death. The courage which in a Court found its only oppor- 
 tunity in the defiance of influential enemies, and the pride of 
 manhood which was shown by arrogance, were now transmitted 
 into more sterling metal, and became the courage that has a 
 noble contempt of death and personal sufferings, the pride that 
 makes a brave man eager to be first in peril and most enduring 
 of hardships. So also the natural courtesy of the man, and the 
 charm of manner which had lifted him to the high place of 
 King's Favourite, now, in the field, became real chivalry, and 
 the personal magnetism which is the attribute of great soldiers 
 and leaders of men. 
 
 , Buckingham thought more of the comfort of the meanest 
 trooper in his ragged regiments than of his own well-being. He 
 personally superintended the landing of the stores, so that the 
 men should not go hungry. On the march to St. Martin's he 
 set them an example of endurance by lying at night on the bare 
 ground, covered only with his cloak.* At the risk of his own 
 life, and with a splendid courage, he saved one of the common 
 soldiers who had been left on a sand-bank surrounded by the 
 rising tide.f More to his honour still, in an age when war was 
 not made with rose-water, and when non-combatants suffered, 
 as a rule, greater horrors than the defeated enemy, Buckingham 
 sternly forbade his men to pillage, and on the way to St. 
 .Martin's would not permit them even to enter a village. 
 
 Upon reaching St. Martin's the English troops took posses- 
 sion of the town, and " sat down " before the fort. At first it 
 seemed to them an easy prize, and hopeful news was sent home 
 to gladden the King's heart ; but before a few days had passed 
 Buckingham and his officers realized the difficulty of the task 
 before them. In a long despatch to Lord Conway, dated July 
 28th, the Duke described the enemy's position. 
 
 " This is a place of great strength," he wrote, " invincible, if 
 once perfected, and, in the imperfect state of fortification it now 
 stands in, so strong, that the shortest way to take it is by 
 famine. The ground it stands upon is rocky, and of such a 
 continued and hard kind of rock, as the pickaxe will hardly 
 fasten in it, which takes off all possibility of making of mines, 
 
 * Mr. Bcaulieu to Sir Thomas Pickering. 
 t Sir Henry Wotton. 
 
318 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 had we better engineers than we have in the army. They are 
 strong in number, both of horse and foot, their horse consisting 
 most of gentlemen, and their foot of the regiment of Champagne, 
 which in this kingdom is called the Invincible. Ordnance they 
 have in great store, and those very good, and excellent gunners 
 to use them. Corn, salt-fish and wine they have in abundance, 
 and for a long siege - K and of all manner of ammunition and 
 arms, more than they can use or spend. And to conclude, a 
 governor that has made this the scale of his honour and fortune, 
 out of which, having the Queen-mother and Cardinal for enemies, 
 he will find no safety ; so that before he will yield up the place, 
 he will make it his deathbed ; and if he cannot live, surely he 
 will die in it. To this may be added, the means that are made 
 to send him succour, and the shipping that are preparing at 
 Bourdeaux, Brouage, Blavett, St. Malo's, and other places, which, 
 if once joined, would make such a strength, as if they did not 
 endanger us by sea, yet would they so divert our forces, now 
 scattered round about the island, as we must of necessity gather 
 our fleet into one body and so leave the other places naked for 
 the enemy to come in with succour, which he would not fail to 
 have in readiness to put over on such an occasion ; so that 
 considering the means they have within to hold out, and the 
 endeavours they use abroad to send to them, wherein many 
 accidents may happen to give them opportunity, this is like to 
 prove a long siege, but which shall be maintained by us with 
 courage and resolution ; and I am confident his Majesty will 
 not let us want." 
 
 There was no hiding the truth here, either from himself or 
 from those at home, and in the same letter he pressed for the 
 immediate despatch of reinforcements, provisions, and munitions 
 of war. " Engineers also," adds Buckingham, " the best that 
 could be gotten and good store of them, would not be unwel- 
 come to us, and the sooner they could come the better ; together 
 with shovels and pickaxes ; and those somewhat stouter than 
 the former, which their length makes something unwieldy." 
 
 Clearly, however, as Buckingham saw the true facts of his 
 situation he was by no means disheartened, and directed his 
 whole energies to the task before him. Batteries were made 
 against those parts of the fort from which the enemy's ordnance 
 caused most havoc, and the men were set to dig trenches as fast 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 319 
 
 as the hardness of the stony ground would permit, so as to cut 
 off the citadel from all communication on the land side. Its 
 approach from the sea was already blockaded by four or five 
 well-armed shallops, which lay under it at night, and by several 
 of the great ships of the fleet lying-to not far off. The rest of the 
 fleet was dispersed round the island to prevent any ship gaining 
 access to the besieged. Various English regiments were scat- 
 tered about the island, investing the smaller forts, so as to hinder 
 communication between them, while Lord Mountjoy, commander 
 of the horse, beat up and down the island to cut off the straggling 
 forces of the enemy. " The other night," writes the Duke, " we 
 took thirty musketeers and some horses sent out by the enemy 
 to fetch water, which we have sent over to the mainland." 
 Buckingham himself was the life and soul of all these operations. 
 Mr. Henry de Vic, one of his officers, writing to Lord Conway 
 upon the day preceding that of the Duke's own despatch, pays a 
 tribute to his conduct, which is corroborated by other witnesses. 
 
 " Our General (I speak it before God, and without flattery) 
 behaves himself in all things with admiration, making those 
 parts appear which lay hid before, for want of occasion to 
 produce them. His care is infinite, his courage undauntable, his 
 patience and continual labour beyond what could ever have 
 been expected ; his affableness, liberality, and courtesy, not 
 more extolled by his own than by his enemies themselves ; 
 himself views the ground, goes to the trenches, visits the 
 batteries, observes where the shot doth light, and what effect it 
 works upon the enemy ; in a word, goes himself in person to 
 places of the greatest danger, oftener than becomes a person of 
 his rank : but where unto (besides his own care and courage which 
 carries him to do it) he is partly constrained by the carelessness 
 of some officers. If a soldier wants a biscuit or a workman a 
 spade, it must come to his ears and pass by his order ; not that 
 he would have it so, but that the defects of others in their duties 
 make his care and providence extend even to the ordering and 
 providing those petty things." 
 
 For a time Buckingham had differences of opinion with Sir 
 John Burgh, the general of the land forces, a valiant and 
 experienced soldier who resented the authoritative manner of 
 the Duke — a novice in the art of war — and expressed his 
 resentment in rough words. It seems, also, that Sir John was 
 
320 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 jealous of his influence of a man named Dolbier, formerly the 
 commissary-general of Mansfeld's armies, who was close in the 
 counsels of the Duke, and was prone to give his advice too freely. 
 But these quarrels did not lead to any serious result, and when 
 the hardships and dangers of the English troops became greater 
 as the weeks passed, the officers worked loyally together under 
 the Duke's command. 
 
 Sir William Beecher, who had gone with Soubise into 
 Rochelle, and Buckingham's friend Dick Graeme had now 
 sailed to England, with a report of that disappointing visit and 
 with instructions to bring back reinforcements by the quickest 
 wind. Upon his arrival home early in August, with the letters 
 that have been already quoted, the King wrote to Buckingham 
 congratulating him upon his "happy success" in taking the 
 island of Rh6, and promising him a fresh supply of victuals, 
 munition, four hundred men for recruits, and £14,000 in ready 
 money, to be brought back by Beecher, " who by the grace of 
 God shall set sail within these eight days." Charles also 
 promised that two regiments of a thousand men apiece, 
 victualled for three months, should be embarked by the 10th 
 of September. He was also making as many officers as he 
 could from the low countries to go to Rhd, and hoped to raise 
 two thousand men in Scotland under the command of Lord 
 Morton and Sir William Balfour. " So far for supplies," he 
 wrote, " which, by the grace of God, I shall send speedily unto 
 you, and you may certainly expect" 
 
 The King's hopes, however, were bitterly disappointed. The 
 difficulty in obtaining ready money was so acute, the strain 
 upon the Treasury was so severe, and there was such an utter 
 lack of enthusiasm for the war, in the City and Provinces, that it 
 was almost beyond the power of the Privy Council and the 
 State Departments to fulfil the King's commands. With his 
 whole soul set upon the success of his friend at Rh6, Charles 
 fretted and fumed with anger at their poverty of resource. 
 
 " I confess," he wrote to his Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
 "these delays make me impatient even almost beyond patience, 
 if I did not hope the goodness of your answer should in some 
 measure recompense the slowness of it." And later he wrote, 
 " If Buckingham should not now be supplied, not in show, but 
 substantially, having so bravely, and, I thank God, successfully 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 321 
 
 began his expedition, it were an irrevocable shame to me and 
 all this nation, and those that either hinder or, according to 
 their several places, furthers not this action as much as they 
 may, deserves to make their end at Tyburn, or some such 
 place." 
 
 Sir William Beecher was not able to put out of Portsmouth 
 with his new fleet and provisions until September ioth, and 
 was then driven back by bad winds. But, setting sail again on 
 the 2 1st, he had a successful passage, and reached the Isle of 
 Rhd safely a few days later; In addition to his welcome 
 supplies, he carried with him a batch of letters, which the exiled 
 Buckingham must have seized upon with eager hands. From 
 the King there were letters full of affection and good hope, 
 and promises of further reinforcements. In one of them he 
 writes — 
 
 " Steenie, 
 
 "Beecher staying longer at the sea side than I expected 
 has given me the occasion of writing to you, which I do, rather 
 to assure you, that upon all occasions I am glad to remember 
 you, and that no distance of place, nor length of time, can make 
 me slacken, much less diminish my love to you, than that I 
 have any business to advertise you of. I know, too, that this 
 is nothing, it being nothing but what you know already ; yet 
 imagining that we (like usurers) love sometimes to look on our 
 riches, I think it is not unacceptable to you to bid you look of 
 that that I esteem to be the greatest riches, or now hardest to 
 be found, true friendship, there being no stile justlier to be 
 given to any man, than that to me of being, 
 
 "Your faithful, &c, 
 
 "Charles, R. 
 
 " Aldershot, 
 "25th of August, 1627"* 
 
 From Conway and other friends Buckingham received faithful 
 assurance of service in the usual flattery. And there were also 
 letters from his family which we may well believe he read with 
 no less eagerness. But these could not have given him the 
 pleasure he expected. As already suggested, his family had 
 for the first time begun to lose their faith in his supreme 
 
 * Hardwicke State Papers. 
 Y 
 
322 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 wisdom, and if some of the letters from home that have been 
 preserved in our State Papers were received by him at this time 
 from Beecher, as seems probable, they must have given him 
 gloomy thoughts and a sad heart. There was a long letter 
 from his mother (though it was written, perhaps, at a slightly 
 later date) containing more candid criticism than he was in 
 the habit of reading or receiving, and hardly atoned by the 
 affectionate words with which it was accompanied. 
 
 " My dearly beloved Son " (she wrote), 
 
 "I am very sorry you have entered into so great 
 business, and so little care to supply your wants, as you see 
 of the haste that is made to you. I hope your eyes will be 
 opened to see what a great gulph of businesses you have put 
 yourself into, and so little regarded at home, where all is merry 
 and well pleased, though the ships be not victualled as yet, nor 
 mariners to go with them. As for money, the kingdom will 
 not supply your expences, and every man groans under the 
 burthen of the times. At your departure from me, you told 
 me you went to make peace, but it was not from your heart. 
 This is not the way; for you to embroil the whole Christian 
 world in wars, and then to declare it for religion, and make 
 God a party to these woful affairs, so far from God as light 
 and darkness, and the high way to make all Christian princes 
 to bend their forces against us, that otherwise in policy would 
 have taken our parts. You know the worthy King your Master 
 never liked that way, and as far as I can perceive there is 
 none that cries not out of it. You that acknowledge the infinite 
 mercy and providence of Almighty God, in preserving your 
 life amongst so many that falls down dead on every side you, 
 and spares you for more honour to himself, if you would 
 not be wilfully blind, and overthrow yourself body and soul ; 
 for He hath not, I hope, made you so great, and given you 
 so many excellent parts, as to suffer you to die in a ditch. 
 
 "Let me, that is your mother, intreat you to spend some 
 of your hours in prayers, and meditating what is fitting and 
 pleasing in His sight that has done so much for you ; and that 
 however you so much strive for, ^end it for His honour and 
 glory, and you will soon find a change so great that you would 
 not for all the kingdoms in this world forego, if you might have 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 
 
 them at your disposing. And do not think it out of fear, or 
 humorousness of a woman, I persuade you to this. No, no I 
 It is that I scorn. I would have you leave this bloody way 
 in which you are crept into, I am sure contrary to your nature 
 and disposition. God hath blessed you with a virtuous wife 
 and sweet daughter, with another son, I hope, if you do not 
 destroy it by this way you take ; she cannot believe a word 
 you speak, you have so much deceived her. She hath bestored 
 [bestirred] herself carefully for you, in sending sundries with 
 the supply that is now in coming, though slowly ; it would have 
 been worse but for her. 
 
 "But now let me come to myself. If I had a world you 
 should command it, and whatsoever I have, or shall have, it is 
 all yours by right ; but alas, I have laid out that money I had, 
 or more by a thousand pounds, by your consent, in buying of 
 Gouldsmise [sic] Grange, which I am very sorry for now. 
 I never dreamed you should have needed any of my help, for 
 if I had they should have wanted all, and myself, before you. 
 I hope this servant will bring us better news of your resolutions 
 than yet we hear of, which I pray heartily for, and give alms 
 for you, that it will please Almighty God to direct your heart 
 the best way to His honour and glory. 
 " I am ever, 
 
 " Your most loving affectionate sad mother, 
 
 " M. Buckingham " 
 
 Kate no doubt wrote to her husband so that the letter 
 might go by the Beecher's fleet. There is a curious letter, of 
 uncertain date, in which she says that "last night she heard 
 very good news that he had taken the ships which came to 
 relieve the fort, which she hopes they will now quickly yield 
 up." Then one hopes he will remember his promise in making 
 haste home. Both for the public and their private good in 
 Court there is great need of him. " Your great Lady " [refer- 
 ring, apparently, to his mother] " that you believe is so much 
 your friend uses your friends something worse than when you 
 were here, and your favour has made her so great as now she 
 cares for nobody." She begs him to burn this letter. 
 
 To Dr. Moore, Buckingham's physician, who was with him 
 in camp, the Duchess writes entreating him to remain with the 
 
324 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Duke, and to do his best to hinder him from landing at 
 Rochelle — 
 
 "I should think myself" (she continued) "the most 
 miserablest woman in the world if my Lord should go into 
 the mainland, for though God has blest him hitherto beyond 
 all imagination in this action, yet I hope he will not still run 
 on in that hope, to venture himself beyond all discretion, and 
 I hope this journey has not made him a Puritan to believe in 
 predestination. I pray keep him from being too venturous, 
 for it does not belong to a General to walk trenches ; therefore 
 have a care of him. I will assure you by this action he is not 
 any whit the more popular man than when he went, therefore 
 you may see whether these people be worthy for him to venture 
 his life for." 
 
 During Sir William Beecher's absence in England the siege 
 had settled down into a monotonous blockade, the enemy 
 strengthening their fortifications, and the English troops closing 
 them in by lines of trenches and redoubts. Knowing Buck- 
 ingham to be the moving spirit of the siege, they constantly 
 endeavoured to take his life, and day after day directed their 
 shots at his lodging, especially at such times when they 
 imagined him to be there. Mr. de Vic, writing again to Lord 
 Conway, on August 14, says he was many times with his 
 Excellency when the shots passed through the room over the 
 one in which he was sitting. 
 
 But Toiras, the governor of the fort, adopted baser means to 
 attain this purpose, and one day, early in the month of August, 
 a spy was captured in camp who confessed, under threats of 
 torture, that he had been set on to kill the Duke by Monsieur 
 Toiras, who promised him large rewards if he succeeded. Upon 
 being searched there was found on this fellow a short and ugly 
 dagger, with a broad double-edged blade, with a sharp point, 
 " the handle of it longer than would suffice for a good whole 
 handful, twisted about with silk to take faster hold, and a little 
 cross-bar between the blade and handle to stay the hand and 
 give strength to the blow." This weapon was sent back to 
 England as a memento of the Duke's providential escape. 
 
 At sea the approach to the fort was guarded by the 
 English ships, disposed in the form of a half-moon, within half 
 a musket-shot of each other, and by about twenty shallops, 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 
 
 which at night lay close under the citadel, "well armed with 
 murderous muskets, pikes, and fireworks." Buckingham had 
 also devised an additional means of strengthening the blockade 
 by throwing a boom across the waterway made of great masts 
 supported at the ends by small boats. 
 
 For the first two months the condition of the English was 
 fairly satisfactory. The men, on the whole, were in good 
 health ; they were becoming hardened by the healthy life and 
 strict discipline, and out of such raw material Buckingham was 
 shaping good soldiers. But the Duke looked ahead. Although 
 he guessed, and accurately, that the besieged were nearing the 
 end of their provisions, he could not expect to starve them into 
 surrender speedily, and in the mean time his own supplies were 
 running out. Then, while he was disappointed by the inaction 
 of the Due de Rohan, the Comte de Soissons, and Charles 
 Emmanuel of Savoy, whose plots against the French King 
 were not carried into effect, the Due d'Angoul£me, with an 
 army of 6000 foot, 600 horse, and 40 cannon, had come within 
 a mile of Rochelle and threatened to make a descent upon the 
 isle of Rhe. This had caused a panic among the Rochellese, 
 and they now sent urgent entreaties to Buckingham for aid, 
 so that they might throw up new fortifications. The Duke, 
 though he could ill spare a single man, sent over the five 
 hundred French volunteers who were now with him, being 
 anxious to bind the citizens of Rochelle to close engagements 
 with him so that they would not be tempted to accept terms 
 of peace with the French Government. But Buckingham, with 
 a great French army threatening him from the mainland, and 
 with the fort of St. Martin's still holding out, had cause for 
 anxiety, and his repeated letters to the King and Lord Conway, 
 urging the speedy despatch of reinforcements and supplies, were 
 not the demands of a man afraid of his task, but of a com- 
 mander who knows his needs and the means by which he can 
 alone attain success. 
 
 Towards the end of September, as narrated in a letter by Sir 
 Edward Conway to his father, the Secretary of State, dated 
 from the Isle of Rh6, on the 20th of the month, a misfortune 
 happened in camp which did much to lower the spirits of the 
 English troops. This was the death of Sir John Burgh, who 
 one night in the trenches was shot through the stomach, and died 
 
326 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 within four hours. " The sorrow of the Duke," said young 
 Conway, imitating his father in flattery of Buckingham, " and 
 the honour he doth in his burial, are sufficient encouragements 
 to hazard dying." There was a difference between them, he 
 adds, through some inconsiderate words which were by the Duke 
 so freely forgiven, and he taken in so secret familiarity, that the 
 State thinks an honest man and the Duke cannot be enemies. 
 The place of Sir John Burgh was offered to Conway, but he 
 declined it in favour of Sir William Courteney, who became 
 " Colonel-General," with Sir Francis Willoughby as Sergeant- 
 Major-General. " The army grows daily weaker, victuals waste, 
 purses are empty, ammunition consumes, winter grows, our 
 enemies increase in number and power, and we hear nothing 
 from England." * 
 
 When Sir William Beecher returned on September 25, he 
 gave thanks to God that he had arrived so opportunely, for it 
 was conceived by every one that if he had delayed longer the 
 whole nation would have been endangered owing to lack of 
 stores. But he found the soldiers in good heart, for although 
 the heavy rains had been to the infinite advantage of the enemy, 
 giving them a new water-supply of which they had been in 
 great need, it was evident that they were now on short rations. 
 Deserters would have run away from the fort down from the 
 citadel every day had they not been driven back by their own 
 men, so that they might starve together the sooner. Then a 
 drummer came out requesting a passport for one of the officers 
 to treat of a matter of importance, but he was answered that 
 unless he came to treat for the surrender of the fort he would 
 not be allowed to pass through their lines. This was a sign that 
 the besieged were getting to the end of their resources. A few 
 days later the joyful fact was corroborated by two gentlemen 
 coming out under a flag of truce to discuss terms of capitulation. 
 Buckingham received them courteously, but, finding that their 
 purpose was to seek excuse for delay, gave them until four o'clock 
 of that afternoon to present their conditions. At that hour, how- 
 ever, they sent a letter requesting a postponement of the time 
 until eight in the evening, which gave the Duke a suspicion that 
 they had received hopeful news of relief. He therefore gave 
 strict orders for the utmost vigilance of the fleet in order to 
 * Domestic State Papers. 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 327 
 
 prevent any approach to the citadel. That night, however, was 
 very dark and stormy, and suddenly Buckingham and his 
 officers were startled by signal guns at sea, giving warning of an 
 enemy's approach. Buckingham, greatly alarmed at the thought 
 that all his care for months might be frustrated by a hostile 
 fleet running the blockade, hastened on board ship and sailed 
 out into the teeth of the storm to take command of the defence. 
 But by a disastrous error, owing to the darkness of the night, 
 almost all our frigates sailed in a contrary direction to the 
 enemy's fleet, and thirty-five of their vessels laden with pro- 
 visions broke through our line of battle. Many of them, however, 
 were stopped by the hawsers that had been stretched between 
 our great battleships, and the admiral's flag-ship was captured. 
 But fourteen or fifteen of the others got through, until they lay 
 under the very walls of the French port, the remainder flying 
 before the wind to the safety of the open sea. Buckingham 
 behaved with the greatest gallantry, and exposed himself to 
 great personal risks in the endeavour to repair the disaster. He 
 signalled to his frigates to close with the blockade runners in 
 the dark, and to set them on fire. But, owing to the storm, the 
 darkness, and the general confusion, these endeavours were 
 without success. The next day the duke in person superintended 
 a desperate attempt, by means of small boats, to tow a fire-ship 
 which had been set burning, at great risk and hardihood, into 
 the midst of the relief ships. These had been unable to dis- 
 charge their supplies owing to our batteries, which kept up a 
 heavy fire ; but when the wind calmed down and the tide went 
 out, the enemy succeeded in thrusting off the fire-ship with 
 long poles, and that night got the ships' stores into the fort* 
 
 It was, of course, a great calamity to Buckingham and his 
 friends. At the beginning they had realized that St Martin's, 
 so strongly fortified on rocky ground, could hardly be taken by 
 assault with the comparatively small force under their command, 
 and that it would have to be starved into surrender. Now the 
 tables were almost turned. For the relief ships had brought 
 men, stores, and provisions for the besieged, while the besiegers 
 were in desperate straits for food. They were not only on short 
 rations, but much of the food they had was damaged and 
 uneatable, and the corn being unground, the soldiers were ready 
 
 * Sir William Beecher to Lord Conway. Hardwicke State Papers. 
 
328 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 to mutiny for want of bread. Sickness, also, and the extreme 
 toil of digging trenches was wasting the strength of the men, and 
 their immoderate eating of grapes, which grew plentifully on 
 the island, and from which the men could not be restrained 
 by the advice of their officers, had caused dysentery among 
 them, so that two thousand five hundred men were down with 
 that disease, which daily grew worse, and there were less than 
 five thousand able men fit for work and fighting. With their 
 clothes all ragged, and without boots or shoes, it was a dismal 
 prospect for them with winter ahead, and still no news of relief 
 from England. 
 
 No wonder, therefore, that a deadly gloom spread throughout 
 the camp when the blockade-runners had got through to the fort. 
 Mr. de Vic, writing to Lord Conway, says, " It was impossible for 
 me to have imagined so sudden and so great a change as I saw 
 in us upon the coming of the last succour of the citadel. Such 
 an alteration there was upon that unhappy accident, of joy into 
 sadness, confidence into despair, triumphs to retreats, as I could 
 hardly conceive the same spirits had been capable of so much 
 contrariety. I have too honourable an opinion of us to attribute 
 this unto fear, but it was very like it, and of many, but question- 
 less undeservedly, thought to be so. Neither do I think it a 
 longing in some to return home to their wives ; I hope we have 
 none so anxious ; or impatience in others to be a little scanter 
 in fresh meats and desirous to eat Christmas beef at home ; our 
 own courage, the honour of our nation, his Majesty's service, 
 and the very example of the enemy teach us better things. I 
 rather attribute it to the care of our officers, who, considering 
 our men die apace, and like to fall more and more by means of 
 sickness, hard duties in winter time, together with the ability of 
 the enemy to subsist long, both by what they have already 
 received and (notwithstanding all we could do), would come in 
 daily, by the opportunity of storms, which in this season and 
 country were not scanty, thought fitter for his Majesty's 
 service to make a voluntary and safe retreat, than to hazard a 
 forcible and shameful expulsion by the enemy, and our own 
 necessities." * 
 
 Buckingham called a council of war, and there was a long 
 and earnest discussion among his officers. After reviewing the 
 
 * Hardwicke State Papers, 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 329 
 
 situation, one and all voted for an abandonment of the siege, 
 and a speedy return home. To Buckingham such advice was 
 gall and wormwood. To return, after all his boasts, with 
 nothing achieved but ignominious failure, was a bitter and 
 humiliating prospect. 
 
 "The incomparable courage of his Excellency," says his 
 faithful admirer, Mr. de Vic, " had " [would have] " overcome all 
 these difficulties (though pushed home unto him with so much 
 plainness, and in unfit places, to which he opposed all the 
 arguments that wisdom, valour, entireness of devotion and 
 affection to his prince and country, and sense of the distressed 
 and lamentable condition of the poor churches, by such a 
 desertion, could suggest unto him), had not a more forcible 
 argument, the consideration of want of victuals, represented unto 
 him by those that he could not but believe in that point, but 
 who were themselves deceived in it, made him to assent unto it." 
 
 The truth was, that with more dangerous enemies at home 
 than in the fort of St. Martin's, Buckingham dared not override 
 the unanimous verdict of his officers, and was therefore com- 
 pelled, against every instinct of his nature, to yield to their 
 councils. 
 
 Preparations were set on foot for an immediate withdrawal 
 from the island. The guns were taken from the batteries and 
 put on board, the landing-place was fortified to cover the 
 retreat, and the men received orders to carry all stores to the 
 ships. But before these arrangements were effected, Monsieur 
 de Soubise and four of his gentlemen arrived in haste from 
 Rochelle, where the news of the English retreat had caused the 
 greatest uneasiness, and they brought such piteous entreaties 
 from the citizens, and such eager promises of a more strenuous 
 co-operation, that Buckingham postponed the final orders of 
 retreat. 
 
 The offers brought by M. de Soubise would, if accepted, 
 certainly relieve the Duke's immediate anxieties. The Rochellese 
 were willing to take a thousand invalid soldiers into their town, 
 and to send five hundred of their own men to take their share 
 of the siege work. They also offered to supply a number of 
 small vessels to make the guard stronger.* At the same time 
 Buckingham received offers of greater assistance from the 
 * Sir William Beecber to Lord Conway, State Papers. 
 
330 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Protestant inhabitants of the island of Rhd, who had been well 
 treated by the English, and feared the vengeance of Angouleme 
 and his army. They were ready to send in five hundred volun- 
 teers, to take off the remainder of the sick men, and to assist 
 the guardships at sea by men and boats. Another thing that 
 brought new hope to the Duke was the return of Dolbier, his 
 military adviser, who had been to England and back with 
 despatches. He brought a letter from Charles, giving promise 
 of the speedy arrival of Holland's fleet. 
 
 " Steenie " (wrote the King), 
 
 " I have received yours by this bearer, Dalbier, whom 
 I have dispatched as soon as was possible, and to whose relation 
 I shall need to add little ; for I think he deserves the character 
 that you put on him, and I assure you, it rejoices me not a little, 
 to hear him (being a stranger and a soldier) give so just a 
 description of your inclination (which I know to be true) that 
 making me believe the rest he says concerning your proficiency 
 in the trade you have now so happily begun, which though I 
 never doubted, yet I am glad to see that truth forces all men 
 to approve my judgment of you. Within a week after you have 
 received this, I hope Holland shall deliver another from me, 
 therefore now I haste to end, only I must chide you, (if it be 
 true that I hear), that you hazard yourself too boldly : This 
 I must command you to mend and take care of ; there being 
 more inconveniences in it than I (almost) dare write, or fit for 
 you to hear, but it is enough, that you are willed to preserve 
 yourself for his sake, that is and ever shall be 
 
 " Your loving, etc., 
 
 "Charles, R. 
 
 "Theobald's, 
 
 " the 20th of Sept., 1627 
 
 " This bearer will tell you that I approve all your designs ; 
 and be confident of what succours these froward times can yield, 
 which though they cannot be according to mind, yet by God's 
 grace, shall be enough for your fortune to maintain a just 
 
 At the same time as Buckingham received this new promise 
 
 * Hardvvicko State Papers. 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 331 
 
 of Holland's speedy arrival with men and food, Dolbier dis- 
 covered, or conveniently put forward in the Duke's interests as a 
 further inducement to remain, that there had been a miscalcula- 
 tion in the amount of the stores in hand, and that by careful 
 management they would hold out for some time longer, until 
 they were reinforced by another English fleet continually 
 promised by the King. In view of all this, Buckingham again 
 put the question to the council of war, as to whether they should 
 remain or retreat. Doubtless he urged his own views forcibly, 
 and appealed to his officers with that persuasive eloquence which 
 he could so well command in moments of emotion and solemnity, 
 his supreme rank and authority enforcing such eloquence, so 
 that few men would be bold enough to challenge his wisdom. 
 Be that as it may, however, it is certain that with only one 
 dissentient the officers were unanimous in resolving to con- 
 tinue the campaign, as only a few hours before they had been 
 of one voice in counselling retreat. Buckingham has been 
 denounced by many critics for this decision, but it was founded 
 upon reasonable hopes. His urgent appeals for aid had been 
 answered by the King with the good news that a new fleet 
 under the command of Wilmot and Holland would speedily 
 sail for the island, and one at least of his political schemes had 
 been fulfilled, for the Due de Rohan was moving at the head of 
 a strong Protestant army, which was causing great anxiety to 
 Louis and Richelieu, thereby relieving Buckingham from the 
 immediate danger of a general advance of the French army to 
 Rochelle. If Holland's fleet had sailed at the appointed time, 
 it is probable that the fort of St. Martin's would have fallen, and 
 that Buckingham's campaign would have resulted at least in 
 holding the Isle of Rlie* as an English possession. 
 
 Unfortunately for the Duke, the situation in England was 
 more deplorable than ever. The news of the relief of St. 
 Martin's by the store-ships had come as a thunderclap to the 
 English Court, who had been expecting its downfall. Lord 
 Wilmot was the first to send the news to Secretary Conway, 
 having received it from the master of a Flemish ship from St. 
 Martin's, who put in at Plymouth. " He delights not to be the 
 messenger of ill news," he wrote,* " but wishes him to use his 
 discretion whether it be fit for a serious consultation, now it be 
 * Domestic State Papers. 
 
332 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 found possible to victual the fort, what is timely to be thought 
 on for a long siege. It is scarcely to be imagined how this 
 attempt could have succeeded, for there is a nightly watch of 
 six hundred men in boats, and the Duke takes such pains that 
 the soldiers themselves pity him. He is commonly in these 
 boats or in the trenches till midnight, and there is a battery of 
 seven cannon, that beats on the very landing-place, besides a 
 sunken collier, whose ordinance plays on the same spot." 
 
 There were some more ready to condemn the Duke than 
 to commiserate with him. Lord Wimbledon wrote to Bucking- 
 ham a letter full of criticism and advice which must have seemed 
 grossly impertinent to the proud Duke. It seems not a little 
 strange, he said, that a fort but of four points, and not highly 
 mounted, should have held out so long. Having been so 
 long in the military profession, and being fresh returned from a 
 great siege, he tendered his advice as to the best mode of pro- 
 ceeding, and the materials most applicable for approaches. He 
 had seen in his siege of Eroll a battery made in one night for 
 heavy cannon, which played next morning by break of day, and 
 that battery was sixteen feet high from the platform, and cannon- 
 proof. Then he commented strongly on the fort having been 
 relieved by sea, of which the Duke was absolute master. 
 Arguing upon the approach of wintry weather and the time 
 given for the French to make preparations for relief, he said the 
 time had either come to take the place, or leave it, and look 
 to Rochelle. If the Duke determined to continue the siege, he 
 advised him to go roundly about it, and to advance two strong 
 works as near the sea as he could. The last part of Wimbledon's 
 advice was certainly sound enough, and, if carried out to the 
 letter, would have saved the Duke from his final disaster. If the 
 Duke, he said, was constrained to leave the siege, he must pro- 
 vide for the retreat by making some good works, and placing the 
 ships under the protection of ordnance. Finally, he cautioned 
 him against a charge of the enemy on embarking — a caution 
 which, as it happened, was a fatal prophecy. 
 
 Charles was the only one not to lose heart in the face of this 
 fresh disasteV, and was more anxious to help than to criticize. 
 Secretary Conway, writing to Wilmot, said "the King is no 
 way discouraged by the information from Rh£, but desires him 
 not to divulge it if possible." In the same letter, Conway 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 
 
 informs Wilmot that Charles had sent Lord Holland iooo/. 
 " for better contenting the officers," and instructed him " to use 
 all expedition to put his soldiers aboard and to make all haste 
 to the Isle of RheV' 
 
 In another letter to Wilmot, Conway says that " the King 
 has been very passionate in hasting this expedition, and has put 
 two captains that are to come about with the ships into an 
 earnest zeal to lose no opportunity." 
 
 But Holland was unable to " make haste," because he could 
 not get either his men or supplies. The country was in a state of 
 tumult over the billeting of soldiers in private houses, and many 
 householders drove the men into the streets to starve, if they 
 could not get other relief. The soldiers themselves took every 
 opportunity of deserting, and the Domestic State Papers dealing 
 with this time are full of accounts of their disorderly and 
 mutinous conduct. The letters of Conway and other members 
 of the Council are also a dismal record of delays and disappoint- 
 ments over the sailing of the fleet under Wilmot and Holland. 
 The Earl of Holland, who was to take command over Wilmot 
 and the fleet, was not personally at fault. Writing on October 
 17, from Portsmouth to the King, he says he will not fail to 
 be gone on Friday, though as yet the most part of his victuals 
 were not aboard, but the winds have been so violent that they 
 could not with any boats lay the ships aboard. There were 
 great faults in these services. He prays for their amendment 
 and that he may be able to do the King's noble servant and his 
 own dearest friend some fortunate service. 
 
 Wilmot, writing to Conway on the 18th of October — Friday 
 having come and gone — says that they have greedily expected 
 the ships from the Downs (under Sir John Chudleigh, who was 
 to join the rest of the fleet at Plymouth), and is almost in despair 
 that the wind, which is good for all other purposes, keeps them in 
 the Downs. He complains that although they have shipping there 
 for one thousand men, which they could have sent away, they have 
 no crews for them. A letter was received about this time from 
 Buckingham to the Earl of Holland, written before the arrival 
 of Beecher at the Isle of Rhe\ and it caused the gravest alarm to 
 the King and the whole Council. "The King was infinitely 
 troubled to see it," writes Nicolas, and in a letter to Holland he 
 says that "he doubts if the Earl make not haste that the Duke 
 
334 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 and the army is in very great extremity, if not lost, which the 
 Lord of Heaven forbid." 
 
 On October 17 Holland writes to Conway from Portsmouth 
 that he is packing aboard all those provisions that he found un- 
 shipped, and will himself go aboard that night to lose no jot 
 of time. With the morning's tide he hopes to set sail. Writing 
 at twelve o'clock on the same night from Cowes, Lord Holland 
 says that being assured of an impossibility to get out till the 
 next day, he put himself in a fisher-boat to gain forward some 
 leagues ere he could land to take port [to Plymouth], but the 
 extremity of weather forced him into Cowes with the nearest 
 escape of drowning. 
 
 Wilmot, who was at Plymouth, waiting for Holland and 
 his ships to join him, writes on the same day to Conway that 
 he hears no news of Holland. This second command much 
 distracts him, and he has resolved, if Lord Holland comes not 
 on the morrow by twelve o'clock, to set sail. 
 
 On October 21, Lord Wilmot, in another letter to Conway, 
 dated " aboard the Bonaventure, at 8 o'clock in the morning," 
 says that they are all ready to sail. He complains that the 
 supplies from London are sent in so disorderly a manner that 
 it would make a faithful servant impatient to see his Majesty 
 so abused. There is neither commissary of victuals, nor any 
 one to give account of arms. They found 1000 muskets, but 
 no pikes or armour. He may assure the King that they will 
 be that Sunday morning, at 9 o'clock, under sail with a pros- 
 perous wind. In the letter he gives the latest news about the 
 state of things at Rochelle. Unless supplies be speedily sent ( 
 and that royally, it will be impossible Buckingham shbuld con- 
 tinue long there ; and it is not victuals only that is needed in 
 winter sieges, but clothing, fire, and many other things. They 
 hear that clothes is [sic] an extreme want in the Duke's army, 
 and that most of them go barefoot. 
 
 On October 29 the fleet had still not sailed, and Holland, 
 who had now found Wilmot at Plymouth, writes to Conway 
 that the wind has changed south-west, so that they are obliged 
 to wait. He complains that there was no officer or " creature " 
 who could tell what there was aboard the provision ships, and 
 that five of them are Dutch, without any English amongst 
 them ; and it is feared they will take any excuse, on the terms 
 
HENRY RICH, EARL OF HOLLAND 
 
 AFTER A PORTRAIT BV VANDYCK 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 335 
 
 we are now on with them, to steal away. They find no 
 pikes nor corselets for the 2000 men, but the writer tells them 
 they were sent before by Sir William Beecher. ... He over- 
 took at Exeter the £1000 sent to the officers, and took it to 
 port with him, which saved two days, and was a great comfort 
 to the poor officers. He will lose no time, for he never had 
 impatience so great to wait on their dear lord and friend. To 
 make the more haste he brought no creatures with him : there- 
 fore Conway will receive this scroll in his "vile hand." 
 
 John Ashburnham, an officer on board the Bonaventure, 
 writes to Nicolas, and gives further details of the scandalous 
 inefficiency of those authorities responsible for victualling the 
 ship. He has received a general account of the victuals of the 
 fleet, but they have been sent with a neglect of order that 
 cannot be forgiven. Sir Henry Mainwaring is forced to go 
 from ship to ship to search what they have. If they should 
 arrive before the Duke has come away, there will be no more than 
 will bring him off with conveniency, so that, except daily supplies 
 are sent after them, the action will perish. He should like to 
 see the lives of those people who doubt the Duke's letter stand 
 the hazard of that letter. He cannot but be impatient when he 
 thinks at what a cheap rate they have sold the Duke, but he 
 defies them to say that he [Buckingham] has not done as much 
 as flesh and blood could do. On October 25 Ashburnham 
 writes again that this is his last farewell, though they could not 
 yesterday get out of the Catwater. They now find that they 
 have provisions for the whole army for seventeen days ; but the 
 2000 men are living upon them in the mean time, so that whe n 
 they get to Rh6 they shall not have above eleven days. 
 
 The day after his " last farewell " we find Ashburnham 
 again writing to Nicolas. It pleases God, he says, " to give a 
 contrary wind absolutely to frustrate all sort of hope of good 
 success. . . . Such a rotten, miserable fleet set out to sea no 
 man ever saw. Our enemies seeing it may scoff at our nation. 
 O that the King's command were with my lord now to com- 
 mand him away ! " When he first heard the news that the King 
 had come away he was extreme sorry, now he wishes, with all 
 his heart, that he were there. 
 
 Two days later a letter from the Earl of Holland goes to 
 the King. He finds by the bearer that our officers in the Isle 
 
336 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 of R.he" have great apprehensions of the King of France landing 
 an army on the island under the defence of the little fort of 
 La Pree, that is yet untaken. It is therefore necessary that 
 our recruits be hastened, and likewise the Scottish regiment. 
 He fears there is no good order taken for the new levies which 
 are to come to Plymouth. Yesterday 50 men arrived out of 
 Dorsetshire, and as yet neither the Deputy Lieutenants nor the 
 Mayor has any knowledge of it. The Earl finding them, dis- 
 posed of them amongst some of the weak companies. They 
 would otherwise, every man of them, have run away. On his 
 own credit he has provided 200 or 300 live sheep to carry with 
 them for the sick men, who die for want of fresh meat, and 
 2000 or 3000 pair of stockings for the men that work in the 
 trenches ; also physic and an apothecary ; and he hopes that 
 Primrose, the little French doctor, will go with them. Most 
 despair ; but he cannot, especially if men and provisions timely 
 follow, as to which their trust is wholly on the King's own 
 ordering and care, which will greatly redound to his honour. 
 
 So the days pass, and with them letters to the King and 
 Council from the commanders of the fleet, telling of fresh delays 
 and fresh grievances, of the tardy delivery of supplies, and of 
 the consumption of those intended for Buckingham. On the 29th 
 of October, a word of hope is sent to Conway from Wilmot, who 
 says that the fleet is already free of Catwater, with fine weather 
 and the fairest wind that ever blew. But he laments that what 
 provisions they carry will not be more than enough for twenty 
 days. Other defects are very great. There are no pikes, very 
 few corselets, no match, and most of the fleet poor rotten ships. 
 There is urgent necessity for sending down commanders to take 
 care of the fresh men now assembling at Plymouth. The 
 country is weary of the burthen of them, and will rather en- 
 courage them to run away than to stay. On the 30th of October, 
 Holland writes to Conway that they lack fifteen hundred swords 
 and eight hundred corselets. And he has worse news. On 
 Monday, contrary to the opinion of the seamen, he forced the 
 whole fleet out of Catwater into Plymouth Sound, but at night 
 they were driven back by a storm, the violence of which he 
 described, and in which the ships were in great danger. On the 
 last day of the month, Viscount Wilmot tell the same unhappy 
 tale. His "fairest wind that ever blew" had changed to "the 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 337 
 
 crudest storm of twenty hours, that has almost ever been 
 observed. And, alas ! although all diligence be used to repair 
 the ships, it will, for a time, hinder their putting to sea." 
 
 Truly, to poor Charles it must have seemed that the very 
 elements had conspired to hinder the setting out of that fleet 
 upon which his very heart was bound. For weeks and months 
 he had written anxious, pleading, angry, and passionate letters 
 to the Council, to the commanders, to many others concerned 
 in the business, urging them to " make haste," " to use all expe- 
 dition," " to lose no minute," to get ready soldiers and supplies 
 and ships to go to the relief of the Duke, " to whom whosoever 
 does the best service, is most happy, be it by life or death." 
 He felt, and justly, that his own honour was at stake in the duty 
 of sending the reinforcements so urgently desired by his friend, 
 and so definitely promised by himself, and to do him justice it 
 was no fault of his (except — and it is a very great exception — in 
 ever having sanctioned the expedition, and in having quarrelled 
 with his Parliament) that such lamentable delays took place. 
 Plead as he would, and command as he would, he found it 
 impossible to get willing volunteers for the war, impossible to stir 
 any enthusiasm among his people, impossible to turn the rogues 
 of his service into honest men. More than a month before the 
 fleet actually sailed, he wrote to Buckingham with a promise 
 that " Holland, within two or three days, will attend you with 
 supplies." We have seen how that hope was frustrated, but 
 even then Charles had to excuse the tardy setting out of the 
 relief ships. 
 
 " I have received your dispatch by Jack Ashburnham," he 
 writes, " by which I have understood that necessity in which ye 
 are, and I am much grieved and ashamed that I must make an 
 apology for our slowness here in giving you supplies ; the cause 
 whereof is the hardness of getting mariners, and the slow 
 proceeding of the commissioners and the navy (which all 
 commissioners are subject to), money being readlier furnished 
 than I could have expected in these necessitous times ; but for 
 that our best answer is (as the schoolboy says) pardon this, and 
 we shall do so no more ; and now by the grace of God, ye shall 
 have no more cause to complain of us, for now we know how to 
 prevent those faults, which we without some experience could 
 hardly foresee." After a few words about the negotiations with 
 
THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 the Danish ambassadors who offered to mediate between 
 England and France, and about a favour asked by the Duke for 
 the promotion of Colonel Brett, Charles returns to what was 
 most pn his mind. " Lastly, for God's sake be not disheartened 
 by our by-past slowness, for, by the grace of God, it is all past. 
 This I say not, that I fear thy constant stout heart can slack in 
 an honest cause, but that some rascal may cast doubts in the 
 army, as if I neglected you ; which I imagine is likely enough 
 to fall out, since some villains here stick not to divulge it. And 
 it is possible that those who were the cause of your consultation 
 of leaving the siege, and coming home (and for the resisting of 
 which I give them a thousand thanks), may aulter such things. 
 Now I pray God to prosper me as I shall stick to thee in all 
 occasions, and in this action, as I shall show myself, 
 
 " Your loving, etc., 
 
 "Charles R. 
 
 "Hampton Court, 
 
 1st October, 1627 " * 
 
 On the 13th of the month Charles wrote again to Buckingham 
 in words of acute anxiety. 
 
 " Steenie," he said, " I have understood by Jack Ashburnham 
 your necessities for fault of timely supplies. I still stand in fear, 
 until I shall hear from you, that these may come too late, but I 
 hope that God is more merciful to me, than to inflict so great a 
 punishment on me." He tells him of further conversation with 
 the Danish ambassadors, who urged him to send Buckingham 
 powers to treat with France, but his answer was that, " it was no 
 ways honourable for me to send powers to treat before I knew 
 France's disposition to treat, it being necessary for my honour 
 that they should begin, not I. After some dispute, they found 
 my reasons good, they ending with this request (which I could 
 not refuse, but was glad of) that they might advertise you from 
 time to time of their proceedings with the French king. And 
 to give them some contentment at their farewell, I told them 
 that in case they made a peace between me and France, the 
 army that you command should be ready to serve my uncle, if 
 he desired it. Now, honest rascal, though I refused, being 
 demanded, to send them powers to treat, yet thou (knowing 
 my well-grounded confidence of them) mayst easily judge the 
 
 * Hardwicke State Papers, 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 339 
 
 warrant-dormant power thou hast in this, as in anything else, 
 where confidence may be placed in any man : but for fear that 
 thy modesty in these particulars might hinder thee to remember 
 thy power of trust, which I have given thee, I thought not amiss 
 to write as I have written." 
 
 On November 6th, that is two days before the Earl of 
 Holland and Viscount Wilmot did at last get away with the 
 fleet after such long and agonizing delays, the King wrote one 
 more letter to his friend, a very melancholy letter, though it 
 breathed a generous affection for the Duke. 
 
 "STEENIE, 
 
 " I pray Gc hat this letter be useless or never come to 
 your hands, this being only to meet you at your landing in 
 England, in case you should come from R<§, without perfecting 
 your work, happily begun, but, I must confess with grief, ill 
 seconded. A letter you sent to Jack Epslie is the cause of this, 
 wherein ye have taught me patience, and how to seek the next 
 best in misfortunes. This is, therefore, to give you power (in 
 case ye should imagine that ye have not enough already) to 
 put in execution any of those designs ye mentioned to Jack 
 Epslie, or any other that you shall like of, so that I leave it 
 freely to your will, whether after your landing in England, ye 
 will set forth again to some design before you come hither ; or 
 else that ye will first come to ask my advice, before you under- 
 take a new work ; assuring you, that with whatsoever success 
 ye shall come, to me ye shall ever be welcome, one of my 
 greatest griefs being that I have not been with you in this time 
 of suffering, for I know we would have much eased each other's 
 griefs. I cannot stay longer on this subject, for fear of losing 
 myself in it. To conclude, you cannot come so soon as you 
 are welcome ; and, unfeignedly in my mind, ye have gained as 
 much reputation, with wise and honest men, in this action, as if 
 ye had performed all your desires. I have no more to say at this 
 time, but conjure thee, for my own sake, to have a care of thy 
 health, for every day I find new reasons to confirm me in being 
 
 " Your loving, etc., 
 
 "Charles R. 
 
 " Whitehall, 
 
 " the 6th of November, 1627 " * 
 
 * Hardwicke State Papers. 
 
840 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 All this correspondence gives a very vivid idea of the King's 
 anxieties and troubles, of the lamentable situation in England, 
 and of Lord Holland's and Viscount Wilmot's continual dis- 
 appointments over the delay of their "rotten ships." But in 
 the mean time the situation in the Isle of Rhd was still more 
 melancholy and pitiful. The ragged, wretched soldiers endured 
 cold, wet, and hunger in the trenches. " Pity our misery ! " 
 writes one of them. " If our lord of Holland be not speedy, we 
 must truss up bag and baggage." * That was their own hope 
 now, and " they have looked themselves blind " t in searching 
 the sea with their telescopes from the tops of houses for the 
 sign of the sails that would bring them food and clothes, and 
 ammunition, and healthy men to take the place of the diseased 
 and starving fellows who were rotting behind the earthworks. 
 
 And what of Buckingham ? He, the soul of this enterprise, 
 the dominant will which controlled the labour of them all and 
 commanded their patience and long-suffering, what was the 
 colour of his thoughts during these last months of the siege ? 
 He does not reveal himself, except by his actions. Never once 
 does he utter a despairing cry at the failure of his hopes. Never 
 once does he break out into passionate anger at the broken 
 promises and the muddled, miserable administration of the Navy 
 Office. Knowing his character, how quick he was in former 
 days to make enemies of all who thwarted his purpose, how 
 impatient of advice, how scornful of criticism, how hot and rash 
 in his temper, one must marvel at the self-restraint of the man 
 during these months of waiting for the help which never came. 
 It was bad for the others, for the men who had been pressed 
 into the war and dragged from their homes to dig ditches, and 
 to endure all the dangers and discomforts of a foreign campaign 
 on short rations. They had cause enough to search the sea with 
 their glasses for Lord Holland's fleet. But Buckingham had 
 greater cause, and more to suffer. He did not spare his body. 
 He shared the men's sufferings, lay with them in open boats 
 in winter nights of storm, stood by them in the trenches within 
 the fire of the enemy's guns, and had no better food than they, 
 nor more of it. And all this meant more to him in self-denial 
 than to men who had never feasted at York House and Whitehall, 
 
 * William Bold to Nicolas. 
 f W. Lewis to Nicolas. 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 341 
 
 who had not dazzled London, Paris, and Madrid with a 
 magnificence of dress, who had not for years lived the luxurious 
 life of a great courtier, the favourite of kings, the darling of 
 dame fortune. But to Buckingham this physical stress and 
 suffering could have been as nothing to the stress and suffering 
 of a proud spirit. We cannot see into the drama of his soul 
 during those dark days, but it must have been a great tragedy. 
 His pride was humiliated, his hopes of fame and glory shattered, 
 his personal reputation endangered by great and irredeemable 
 failure. The men searched the sea for Lord Holland's fleet 
 with their glasses. Buckingham must have searched the sea 
 with his very soul. At night he must have prayed, and we 
 know he did pray, that those ships might come sailing through 
 the darkness. At dawn he found his prayers unanswered. 
 Yet, as we have said, no angry word escaped from him, no 
 word of bitter complaint or dark despair. Not even his face 
 showed to his soldiers any gloom or lack of confidence in ulti- 
 mate success, and every one of the men who served with him 
 and wrote a memorial of those months in the Isle of Rh£ bear 
 witness to the seeming cheerfulness, the constant courtesy and 
 kindness, the continual courage of their general. Truly, Buck- 
 ingham had the makings of a great soldier. 
 
 But fortune was against him. The very winds were his 
 enemies. He had held on until St. Martin's was at the last 
 gasp of hunger, in spite of the relief-ships which had brought 
 new stores. If only Holland and Wilmot had not been beaten 
 back by furious storms, if, even after the miserable delays caused 
 by the incompetence and roguery of officials, they had got 
 away from Plymouth when they had first started with a fair 
 breeze, Buckingham's long endurance would not have been in 
 vain, and St. Martin's would have been compelled, by the laws 
 of nature, to capitulate. 
 
 But history was written differently. During the delay of 
 Holland's fleet, a French army under Marshal Schomberg was 
 marching to the coast, and, as each day passed, Buckingham 
 was threatened with more imminent danger. It came very close 
 to him when two thousand men passed over the strait to the 
 island of Rhd, and strengthened the little fort of Pree, which 
 Buckingham had left unattacked and uncaptured, not believing 
 it advisable to divide his forces. With its new garrison it was 
 
342 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 now a formidable position at his rear, and in a little while, when 
 Schomberg and a great army would cross over from the main- 
 land, Buckingham would be surrounded with a circle of fire. 
 When the situation developed, and still Lord Holland did not 
 come, Buckingham could not hide from himself that the game 
 was up, and his officers forced home the truth upon him. In 
 anguish of spirit he saw himself compelled to evacuate the 
 island which had cost him months of travail and misery. 
 But Buckingham had not changed his character, though danger 
 had toughened his manhood. Though it cost him his life 
 he would make one desperate venture, rather than retreat 
 tamely and ignominiously. In the earlier stages of the siege he 
 had declared that the fort of St. Martin's was too strong to take 
 by assault. Now hearing that Toiras the governor had only 
 500 men strong enough to bear arms, the others being skeletons 
 and scarecrows, he gave orders for the scaling ladders to be 
 brought up, and for the men to leave their trenches for a com- 
 bined attack. This was made on the morning of the 27th of 
 October. It was a bloody business and a great disaster. Toiras 
 had had full warning of the threatened assault, and though it 
 was true his men were weak with hunger, the rocks beneath 
 them and the walls above were strong and impregnable. The 
 scaling ladders were short and useless, and though the English 
 officers and men flung themselves upon the fortress with 
 determined courage, they could not scale the height in the 
 storm of shot that poured down upon them. Many brave 
 gentlemen were killed and wounded, and many men were left 
 in their death agony upon the rocky ledges, when Buckingham 
 at last sounded the retreat. 
 
 Prudence would have counselled an immediate evacuation 
 of the island, for Marshal Schomberg had now crossed over to 
 the island with about 6000 men, and had joined the garrison of 
 La Pree. Not many hours would pass before he marched upon 
 the English. Cowardice would have suggested that to save the 
 healthy men they should leave behind the wounded, and there 
 were some to counsel this. But Buckingham was not dis- 
 tinguished by prudence, and he was no coward. He refused to 
 leave the wounded, and two days were spent in getting his 
 disabled men on board ship, while a wooden bridge was con- 
 structed across the marshes to the narrow strait leading to the 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 343 
 
 little isle of Loix, which was to be the embarking place of the 
 troops. If we may believe Sir Pierce Crosby, one of the 
 colonels, in these last honrs the camp was distracted by divided 
 counsels, and the assault on the fort, as well as the work of 
 evacuation, was hampered by a sullen and almost mutinous 
 soldiery. 
 
 " It is not to be doubted," he says, " that the Duke had both 
 courage, munificence, and industry enough, together with many 
 other excellent parts which in time would make him a renowned 
 general. And his prime officers, undervaluing his directions 
 because of his inexperience, and taking a boldness in regard of 
 his lenity to delinquents, did not only fail to co-operate with 
 him, but by giving out that he cared but to expose them all for 
 his own vain-glory had infused into a great part of the army 
 a mutinous disposition, insomuch as whatsoever was directed to 
 making our longer abode or any attempt to be made upon the 
 enemy was either cried down, or so slowly and negligently 
 executed as it took none effect. For instance, when it was 
 resolved in council that the little fort should be besieged, they 
 obstinately declined it* On the other side, whatever tended to 
 the retreat was acted with all possible expedition ; as, for 
 example, the shipping of all the brass cannon, whereunto they 
 had by surprise gotten his consent before the assault, by himself 
 often repented of. In this distraction of affairs, the Duke 
 was forced to resort to new and private counsels, by which 
 he was 4 then so guided that Dulbier, one author thereof, writing 
 to his friend in Holland, used these words, ' L' ignorance et 
 la dissention qu'est entre les Anglois, m'afaict vendre les coquilles 
 a bon marche". ' " 
 
 One fatal precaution was that taken to ensure the safety of 
 the retreat, and Viscount Wimbledon's words of warning, which 
 have already been quoted, were forgotten. The end of the 
 bridge on the little island of Loix was guarded by an entrench- 
 ment, but the other end of the bridge on the Isle of Rhe was 
 left unfortified, and defended only by a small body of horsemen. 
 It is always, as Wimbledon pointed out, an extreme danger to 
 convey a great mass of troops over a narrow passage, with a 
 
 * As Gardiner says, this cannot refer to the original question of besieging La 
 Free, but to some later resolution, probably when the French were beginning 
 to land. 
 
344 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 strong enemy in the neighbourhood, and when Marshal Schom- 
 berg came up with his army he saw this weak spot in the 
 English dispositions. As soon as three regiments had passed, 
 over, the French charged the small body of English horsemen 
 guarding it, and forced them into headlong retreat. Dashing 
 into the infantry they turned the regiments into terrible confusion, 
 and a panic ensued, in which, regardless of all order and 
 discipline, the men surged towards the bridge, fighting with 
 each other in their desperate endeavour to escape. Into this 
 mass of terror-stricken humanity the French musketeers now 
 poured a deadly fire, shooting down our men like sheep. 
 Even this was not the worst of the tragedy. The Rochellese 
 volunteers, who were taking part in this retreat, had found a 
 way round by some salt-pits, and now, in their haste to cross 
 the bridge, forced themselves into the flank of Sir Alexander 
 Brett's regiment, then crossing over, so that the passage was 
 still more congested, and the enemy, says Sir Pierce Crosby, 
 "had the killing, taking, and drowning of our men at his 
 pleasure." The panic-stricken English soldiers were unable to 
 return the enemy's fire without the risk of shooting down their 
 own comrades. It is a miracle that so many escaped, though 
 the slaughter accounted for at least a thousand lives. According 
 to the French, they killed two thousand at this time, and it is 
 the more likely figure. Perhaps the French, who are not without 
 humanity, grew a little tired of mere massacre, and allowed some 
 of the shattered regiments to cross that bridge of death without 
 further punishment. Even on the other side, the men were so 
 hag-ridden with fright that in their wild stampede they swept 
 away the soldiers who were guarding the entrenchment. But 
 the officers succeeded in rallying them, and drove back the 
 enemy who followed. In the night, or early next morning, they 
 set fire to the bridge, and now in comparative safety and at 
 leisure, the troops were got on board the fleet, which set sail on 
 November 8. They numbered. 2,989 wounded, ragged, and half- 
 starved scarecrows, a miserable remnant of those 6,884 soldiers 
 who, on October 20, drew pay at St. Martin's.* 
 
 Who was to blame ? Buckingham takes the responsibility, 
 but there is reason to believe that the fault was due to his 
 subordinate officers. Crosby, who took part in the disaster, 
 * Domestic State Papers. 
 
THE EXPEDITION TO ROCHELLE 345 
 
 says distinctly that the failure to guard the bridge was " an 
 error never to be sufficiently condemned in the colonel-general 
 and the sergeant-major-general, to whom the Duke committed 
 the retreat." 
 
 But Buckingham could not, and, to do him justice did not, 
 shelter himself behind his subordinates, however much they 
 were directly to blame. Upon his shoulders, as the leader 
 of the campaign, rest the failure and the tragedy, and it 
 was a heavy burden. In that short voyage, with every breath 
 of wind bearing him homeward to a people clamorous for 
 vengeance, to enemies no less cruel and much less chivalrous 
 than the French soldiers, who would at least give him credit 
 for his courage, he must have been whipped by bitter and 
 poignant thoughts, by the sting of wounded pride, by the lash 
 of unavailing regret To a man of pride who had gone out 
 with high hopes this failure was worse than death, and he may 
 well have wished that he had died with those officers and men 
 whose blood had coloured the salt-marshes of Rhe. He had 
 not tried to escape that death. In that bloody retreat he had 
 been the last to cross the bridge, but as he stood sword in 
 hand shouting to his cowards, he was scatheless among the 
 bullets. At least no man could deny his personal heroism. 
 
 It was characteristic of Buckingham that he should bury 
 his thoughts of failure by new schemes of daring enterprise, 
 and before he reached the English shore he was already dream- 
 ing of an attack upon Calais. He had one great consolation. 
 The English people in their blind prejudice might howl at him, 
 blind to their own lack of patriotism in denying the supplies, 
 the lack of which had been the chief cause of his failure, but 
 his King would still have faith in him, knowing all that he 
 had suffered and braved, and acknowledging how ill-supported 
 he had been. He met Holland's fleet on the highway of the 
 sea, but there was now no joy in the sight of those sails. They 
 had come too late. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 THE DUKE AT HOME AGAIN 
 
 BUCKINGHAM was not mistaken as to the opinion of his 
 King. As soon as he landed at Portsmouth he received 
 a letter from Charles, by the hands of Endymion Porter, his 
 own friend and servant. 
 
 " Stenie " (wrote Charles), 
 
 " I have written to you by Will Murray, and Mont- 
 gomery, having sent them to Plymouth, thinking you would 
 have landed there ; but understanding of your coming to 
 Portsmouth, I have sent Porter to assure you our misfortune 
 has been not to send you supplies in time, that all honest men 
 cannot but judge that you have done past expectation, and (if 
 a man may say it) beyond possibility. Your letter, and my 
 lord of Westmeath's relation, has much comforted me (the first 
 news of your retreat being far worse than, I thank God, it is) 
 but principally to see how nobly thou carriest it, considering the 
 rest of your actions. As for your design upon Calais, I much 
 approve of it ; let me know what is necessary for it, and I shall 
 see it provided with all diligence ; and for secrecy, I shall speak 
 of it to no living soul but to Jack Epslie, whom I have sent for. 
 So referring myself to the bearer, I rest, 
 
 " Your loving, &c, 
 
 " Charles 
 
 " Wednesday night. 
 
 " You cannot come before you are welcome, which I leave 
 to you ; the sooner, I think, the better, at least best pleasing 
 for me." 
 
 Buckingham did not hurry at once to the Court, for there 
 
 346 
 
THE DUKE AT HOME AGAIN 847 
 
 was much to do in Portsmouth in providing for the needs of his 
 soldiers and seamen. It was while engaged in this business 
 that he had a letter from his Duchess, showing that her heart 
 was still beating for him, and craved to welcome him with 
 her love. 
 
 "My Lord" (she wrote), 
 
 " Since I heard the news of your landing, I have been 
 still every hour looking for you, that I cannot now till I see 
 you, sleep in the nights, for every minute, if I do hear any noise, 
 I think it is one from you, to tell me the happy news what day 
 I shall see you, for I confess I long for it with much impatience. 
 I was in great hope that the business you had to do at Ports- 
 mouth would 'a been done in a day, and then I should 'a seen 
 you here to-morrow, but now I cannot tell when to expect you. 
 My Lord, there has been such ill reports made of the great loss 
 you have had, by the man that came first, as your friends desire 
 you would come to clear all, with all speed. You may leave 
 some of the Lords there to see what you give order for done, 
 and you need not stay yourself any longer. Thus beseeching 
 you to come hither on Sunday or Monday, without all fail, 
 
 " I rest your 
 " true loving and obedient wife, 
 
 "K. Buckingham 
 
 " Mr. Maule desires you to come to the King, though you 
 stay but one night, for they were never so busy as now." 
 
 So Buckingham rode on his way to London, comforted by 
 the thought that there were at least two people in the world 
 who loved him, his King and his good wife. There were others, 
 for though there was a great outcry of indignation against him 
 when the first news of disaster leaked out, with many wild 
 exaggerations, his many friends at Court were more disposed to 
 give credit to his great gallantry than to blame him for his 
 failure. The continuance of the King's favour towards him 
 made him still the most powerful man in England, and there- 
 fore still to be flattered, but his wonderful personality drew 
 many hearts with sincere affection towards him. 
 
 But these were anxious for his personal safety at home. 
 There could be no denying that the loss of so many men, and 
 
348 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 the return without victory to justify such bloodshed, had 
 inflamed the people against him, and made them more than ever 
 ready to put the blame of all the troubles of the country 
 to his account. Even men of breeding were passionate against 
 him as the cause of this blow to our national prestige and of the 
 massacre of men at the bridge. 
 
 "The disorder and confusion," wrote Denzil Holies to his 
 brother-in-law Wentworth, " was so great, the truth is no man 
 can tell what was done. This only every man knows, that since 
 England was England it received not so dishonourable a blow." 
 
 When men of education and rank were speaking thus 
 passionately, it is not to be wondered at that among the com- 
 mon people there was more brutal speech, full of threats against 
 the Duke. When Buckingham set out from Plymouth he was 
 told that a plot had been formed to murder him on his way to 
 London. Young Lord Fielding, his sister Susan's son, who rode 
 with him, begged him to change clothes with him so that the 
 Duke might be guarded against assassination.* It was a brave 
 and chivalrous offer on the part of a young man, and Bucking- 
 ham was touched with such love for him. But he refused to 
 take any precautions, vowing that if his enemies believed him 
 to be afraid of danger he would never be safe. 
 
 This time he came to his journey's end without the attempt 
 being made on his life, and at Whitehall Charles received him 
 with as much honour and affection as though he had returned 
 as a conquering hero. 
 
 Buckingham gave a full narrative of the campaign on the Isle 
 of Rh6, of the attempt on the fort, the retreat and embarkation, 
 to the King and the Lords assembled at Whitehall. According 
 to some accounts, as we have seen, he had some cause of 
 complaint against his officers and men during the last days in 
 the island, but his natural desire not to paint the picture of his 
 disaster in blacker colours than must inevitably appear, and his 
 generous spirit which prompted him to give full praise to 
 comrades-in-arms, made him overlook such failings and speak 
 only in gratitude of their long-suffering and good service. 
 
 Lord Conway, writing to his son Edward on November 
 20, says, he "delivered so clear an account of the passages, 
 descending even to the good and bold actions of the private 
 
 1 * Sir Henry Wotton's Memoirs. 
 
THE DUKE AT HOME AGAIN 349 
 
 soldiers, and exhibited the great patience of the army, and the fair 
 opportunity offered by turning their sufferings into glory, as if 
 these virtues had been seconded with the power and succour 
 designed for it. The Duke named every officer in such manner 
 that every hearer was stirred up to give commendations, and if 
 officers and soldiers have thankfulness equal to the honour and 
 obligation done them by the Duke, they will live with their 
 swords or die with them in their hands to pay him that duty. 
 The King commands Sir Edward to express to both officers and 
 soldiers that his Majesty takes in every good part the faith and 
 courage they have made appear." * 
 
 These words from the King must have cheered the officers, 
 who were mostly gentlemen with private means, and could 
 therefore pay for their own creature comforts in return for royal 
 compliments ; but to the soldiers and seamen solid wages would 
 have been more acceptable than fine words. The condition of 
 the men returned from Rochelle was deplorable. Sir James 
 Bagg, the paymaster, in his reports to Buckingham, who was 
 now with the Court, reveals their pitiful plight. Apart from Lord 
 Holland's men, who had clothes, the others were in an almost 
 naked condition, and the twelve hundred sick and wounded 
 billeted at Plymouth were in a horrible state, spreading a 
 deadly infection among all who came in contact with them, and 
 numbers of them falling down dead in the streets. The Duke had 
 left ;£3500 in Bagg's hands, but this was but a beggarly pittance 
 to pay for the wants of so many starving and sick creatures. 
 Similar reports reached Buckingham and the Navy Commis- 
 sioners daily from other officers. On November 29, Sir William 
 Courtney reported to Lord Conway that he had billeted Lord 
 Holland's companies in Cornwall, and those from Rh6 in Devon- 
 shire, but they were in desperate need of clothes. " Without 
 the latter," he said, " the men will die." He urged the necessity 
 of sending down a commissary with a supply of this clothing. 
 Sir Henry Mervyn, who was under sailing orders, writes to 
 Nicolas on December 12, that " all things are so out of order 
 that we cannot put to sea so suddenly as we had written." 
 There is a great contagion among the ships, five hundred men 
 having been buried since the coming in of the fleet. The con- 
 dition of the poorer sailors, he reports, is most miserable. Winter 
 * Domestic State Papers. 
 
850 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 employment will cut out more than the enemy unless there be 
 better provision of clothes for them. 
 
 Buckingham was not callous to the sufferings of the men, and 
 in answer to the pressing demands for money from his officers 
 he sent down frequent sums to Sir James Bagg and others, not 
 only using every endeavour to obtain money from the Treasury, 
 but dipping deeply into his private purse. But the Treasury 
 was utterly exhausted after the expense of fitting out Holland's 
 fleet without Parliamentary aid, and the cost of maintaining the 
 navy and army in a condition for active service was so enormous 
 that the few thousands of pounds that could be raised were 
 merely sufficient to enable the officers to keep their men from 
 a general mutiny. In the Domestic State Papers a note is given 
 of " the present charge of the fleet and army," and the figures 
 help one to realize the strain upon the resources of the im- 
 poverished Government. There were 7.557 landsmen and 4,000 
 seamen. "Total weekly charge, ^"3862. Arrears due to the 
 officers of the navy and ordnance, £25 1,361. Sum needed for 
 setting forth a fleet of 50 sail in the spring, £110,000, of which 
 one-half must be presently [i.e. immediately] furnished." Such 
 vast sums (and it will be noticed that they do not include the 
 wages of the soldiers and seamen) were beyond the very dreams 
 of the Privy Council, who were carrying on the administration in 
 a hand-to-mouth way. Yet both the King and Buckingham were 
 determined to refit the fleet and raise an even larger army in 
 order to retrieve the first failure at Rochelle. Buckingham 
 hoped to redeem his defeat, and Charles felt himself in honour 
 bound to succour the unfortunate Rochellese, who were in a more 
 desperate plight than ever. A deputation came from them with 
 news that Toiras, the Governor of Rochelle, had been superseded, 
 and that Richelieu, the great cardinal, was personally superin- 
 tending the siege, and was building two great piers into the sea, 
 which, when! finished, would cut ofF all hope of relief from the 
 besieged city. 
 
 Buckingham, with the authority of the King and Council, 
 decided to despatch at once his brother-in-law, the Earl of 
 Denbigh, with a small fleet of store-ships, in order to relieve the 
 immediate wants of Rochelle, while he himself reorganized the 
 forces and prepared a more formidable expedition. But every- 
 thing worked against him, and he built great castles of hope 
 
THE DUKE AT HOME AGAIN 351 
 
 upon rotten foundations, while the very winds of heaven 
 battered against them. The ships returned from Rh6 were foul 
 and leaky, and great storms blowing off the English coast 
 wrecked and damaged the best of a thoroughly bad fleet. 
 
 Lord Denbigh, on board the Victory, writing to Buckingham 
 on November 28th, reports that on the night of the 26th, there 
 " arose so great a storm, that in Hamoaze, which is held for one 
 of the most secure harbours in the kingdom, and where never 
 ship was heard to have been lost, fifteen or sixteen of the fleet 
 were driven on the rocks, among which the Bonaventure and 
 Esperance are, it is to be feared, not to be recovered." In Cat- 
 water five, and one of them the Rainbow, were bilged and, he 
 doubts, lost. The Nonsuch cut her mainmast by the board ; the 
 Victory drove, with four anchors ahead, within half a cable's 
 length of the shore, and so also the Happy Entrance. On 
 December 5th, Lord Holland, writing to the Duke from Ports, 
 mouth, says that to-morrow they will give account of what ships 
 will be fit to set to sea. He fears they will be but few, most of 
 them having leaks or other defects not to be repaired there, 
 where there is no dock, " which is a great omission in some of 
 our great officers. The sooner the ships are sent to the Thames 
 the better, or, what with the sick and the runaways, they will 
 not be sufficiently manned." 
 
 In the middle of December, Sir James Bagg, the treasurer 
 of the army, was superseded by Captain Mason, who complained 
 bitterly that he could not get out of Bagg's hands the money 
 sent down by the Duke to pay for the soldiers' billets. He 
 hoped to prevail on the country people to supply the men with 
 shirts, shoes, and stockings, on assurance of first payment. 
 Mason did not mince matters with the Duke. His language 
 was as strong as the awful situation of the soldiers and seamen 
 warranted a man of heart and conscience. "Unless your 
 Grace procures money for the troops," he wrote, " I must expect 
 a purgatory, if not hellish incessant torment." 
 
 Before Bagg relinquished his office he reported that there 
 were six or seven hundred runaways from the ranks. These 
 were increased day by day, and death roamed the streets of 
 Portsmouth and Plymouth, and the decks of the foul ships in 
 the harbours. Sir Henry Mervyn, writing to Nicolas on 
 December 23, says, that soon the King will have more ships 
 
352 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 than sailors. They send twenty or thirty sick men ashore daily, 
 and all the ships are so infectious, that he fears if they hold the 
 sea One month they shall not bring men home to moor these 
 vessels. Endeavours have been made to purify the Vanguard, 
 in spite of all which is " so noisesome and ill-savouring," that 
 were it not to obey the Duke, he would rather quit his employ- 
 ment than go to sea in her. On January 2 he writes again to 
 Buckingham, and at the same time to Nicolas, protesting against 
 the delay in sending clothes. "The men are so naked they 
 cannot undertake their duties at sea. In harbour they fall 
 hourly sick, and daily die in all our ships." The disease bred 
 among them is so frightfully infectious that they spread it 
 through the houses in which they are billeted, the inhabitants 
 themselves dying of this plague. 
 
 One may guess at the horror with which the householders in 
 Devon and Cornwall found themselves compelled to [receive 
 into their homes, with but a poor chance of payment, these 
 naked, pestilential, half-savage soldiers and seamen, who behaved 
 like brutes, and were indeed but little better than brutes, in a 
 condition which was a degradation of their humanity. Many 
 of them, Irish and Scottish recruits, were practically foreigners, 
 without the slightest respect for the property or persons of those 
 in whose houses they were forcibly billeted. The reports and 
 despatches in the State Papers relate many horrible stories of 
 their ill conduct and violent behaviour, which at last became so 
 intolerable to the countryside that many people turned out the 
 men to starve in the streets, and a great groan of indig- 
 nation and rage rose against this infamous law of billeting, 
 mostly without payment. The following complaint, addressed 
 to the Council by the people of Devonshire and Cornwall, is 
 typical of hundreds that poured in from every side. " What ! " 
 they said, "will his Majesty make war without provision of 
 treasure, or must our county bear the charge for all England ? 
 Is it not enough that we undergo the trouble of the insolent 
 soldiers in our houses, their robberies and other misdemeanours, 
 but that we must maintain them, too, at our own cost ? " 
 
 Buckingham, to whom these things were reported day by 
 day, realized, what Charles was loth to realize, that it was 
 impossible to proceed with his plans in the face of those appall- 
 ing facts, upon the existing system of government, and that 
 
THE DUKE HOME AGAIN 353 
 
 only by summoning a Parliament and obtaining subsidies could 
 they avert ruin and revolution. 
 
 Though he had been impeached by the last Parliament, 
 which had been dissolved by the King to rescue him from the 
 fierce attacks of the Commons, he had the courage and audacity 
 to appeal once more to the representatives of the people. 
 Supremely confident in the righteousness of his own actions 
 and intentions, he did not doubt that the truth, as he believed 
 it, would prevail over passion and prejudice, and that the 
 patriotism of the nation would respond to an appeal for aid in a 
 great crisis, or, if he was mistaken, he was willing to risk his 
 own safety on the cause of the country's honour. He flung 
 himself on his knees before Charles one day in the bedchamber 
 with an earnest petition for the summoning of a Parliament, 
 saying that " if he himself were found worthy of death, let them 
 not spare him."* Then at the Council Board he made the 
 same proposal. Gardiner, quoting one of the Venetian ambassa- 
 dor's (Contarini's) despatches to the Doge, says that, "the 
 Councillors knew not what to say when they heard the great 
 Duke pleading for once in vain. They fancied there was some 
 collusion, and that the scene had been pre-arranged for the 
 purpose of winning popularity for the favourite. Then was 
 seen the effect of such predominance as Buckingham's upon the 
 men whom he had trained to flatter, not to counsel. Not a man 
 ventured to open his mouth to give advice. The sovereign and 
 his favourite were isolated at the council board, as they were in 
 the nation." 
 
 A new and unheard-of expedient was adopted to raise money 
 without Parliamentary aid. Charles resolved to mortgage or 
 sell the Crown lands, and in this way a sum of ^263,000 was 
 obtained. It was a blessed relief to the long period of penury 
 at Court, and with ready money in hand new schemes were put 
 forward to secure order in the kingdom and reorganize the army 
 and navy. Buckingham, who seems to have feared a popular 
 insurrection at home (and the constant mutinies of the seamen 
 and soldiers, as well as the disaffection of the country generally 
 made such a fear reasonable), proposed the establishment of a 
 permanent standing army of 20,000 men. Dalbier was to be 
 sent over to Germany with Sir William Balfour to bring over 
 
 * Mead to Stuteville. 
 2 A 
 
354- THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 iooo German horse, and the soldiers already called out for 
 active service were to be reinforced by 2000 Scottish and 2000 
 Irish infantry. This project was the cause of black suspicion 
 against the Duke, who, by the common people, was believed to 
 have designs of becoming a military dictator, and crushing them 
 under the heel of an iron despotism. Even men of superior 
 intelligence were not without grave suspicions that Charles 
 intended to coerce his subjects into fresh taxation by the power 
 of the sword. It is generally acknowledged now, however, that 
 the King and Buckingham had no sinister purpose in thus 
 establishing a strong standing army, this being proved by the 
 fact that at the same time the yeomanry of the ten shires 
 nearest London were called out for review, these men being of 
 the very class who would be most likely to draw their swords in 
 defence of the nation's liberty. It was really nothing but a 
 military plan for the purpose of keeping a strong force in readi- 
 ness for immediate foreign service, but in view of the condition 
 of the country, and the growing storm of indignation against 
 billeting, it showed a deplorable lack of common sense and 
 political intelligence. 
 
 Towards the end of January fresh pressure was brought to 
 bear upon the King to summon a Parliament, and a deputation 
 of Lords gave their personal guarantee that if the King granted 
 this universal desire of the people, there would be no further 
 proceedings in the impeachment of the Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 The Duke himself again threw the weight of his personal 
 influence on to the side of a Parliamentary government, and at 
 a late hour on the night of January 30th, 1628, the King gave 
 way, and orders were given for the issue of writs, the date for 
 the assembling of Parliament being fixed for March 17th. 
 
 Buckingham, who believed that now his impeachment was 
 dropped he would find his military policy supported by new 
 subsidies voted by the Commons in return for his advocacy of 
 their liberties, was in a happier frame of mind than he had 
 enjoyed for many months, and there now came to him a great 
 personal joy. It will be remembered that his first son, the 
 little Earl of Coventry, had died in infancy — a blow which had 
 caused him profound grief. On Wednesday afternoon, the 1st 
 of February, the day after the people heard the glad news that 
 a Parliament was again to meet, another son and heir was born 
 
THE DUKE HOME AGAIN 355 
 
 to him, and " for joy thereof," writes Mead, " the bells of West- 
 minster and St. Martin's-in-the-Field rung full merrily." The 
 child was christened a week later at Wallingford House, the 
 King and the Earl of Suffolk being godfathers, and the Queen 
 godmother by her deputy the Duchess of Richmond. "His 
 Majesty came thither apparelled in a long soldier's coat, all 
 covered with gold lace, and his hair all gaufred and frizzled, 
 which he never used before." The babe that then lay " puking 
 and muking " became that second Duke of Buckingham whose 
 erratic genius and wild adventures are perhaps more familiar to 
 students of history and literature than the character and career 
 of his father. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 THE KING'S THIRD PARLIAMENT 
 
 ALTHOUGH the King had given way to the persuasions of 
 the Duke and other great Lords in summoning Parlia- 
 ment, he had not yet learnt the lesson that the English people 
 declined to be taxed in any form whatever without the consent 
 of their representatives, and he resorted to several extraordinary 
 expedients to raise money in an unparliamentary way, under 
 the pretext that it was necessary for a fleet to put to sea without 
 delay, owing to the imminent peril of Rochelle, and the danger 
 of an invasion of this country by France and Spain. Previously 
 the ships had been mainly provided by the port towns and the 
 maritime counties, but now he proposed to extend this levying 
 of ship-money, as it was called, in all the shires. Writs were 
 issued for that purpose, but the reception of them in the counties 
 occasioned such a widespread indignation, several of the county 
 Lieutenants, such as Lord Northampton and the Earl of Ban- 
 bury, flatly refusing to carry out their instructions, and protests 
 against the illegality of the tax being raised on every side, that 
 for once Charles took warning by those ominous signs of resist- 
 ance and withdrew his orders. For the time being, therefore, 
 ship-money was abandoned, but, as all students of history know, 
 was remembered later by the King, with disastrous and never- 
 to-be-forgotten results. In the meanwhile, Denbigh, who was 
 to have put to sea, was delayed in the same way as Holland 
 and Wilmot in the preceding years ; and the condition of the 
 seamen, the mutinous behaviour and desertions of the soldiers, 
 and the disorder and violence occasioned by the billeting of 
 those men in private houses, had reached such a degree of evil 
 that the country was seething with political passion, almost 
 approaching a revolution. 
 
 Such was the state of things when Parliament met on March 
 
 356 
 
THE KING'S THIRD PARLIAMENT 357 
 
 17th, opened with full and magnificent ceremony by the King, 
 attended by the great officers of State and the Household, 
 including Buckingham, who led his Majesty's spare horse. 
 There was to be, it seemed, a general amnesty on both sides. 
 The King permitted the return of the Earl of Bristol, the Earl 
 of Lincoln, Lord Arundel, Archbishop Abbot, and Williams, the 
 late Lord Keeper, who had been in disgrace and under arrest, 
 to return to their places in the Upper Chamber, and in the 
 Lower House there was not a murmur about iproceeding with 
 the impeachment of the Duke, though all his old enemies had 
 been returned again to Parliament. But as far as the Commons 
 were concerned, this silence about Buckingham, whom they had 
 denounced as the evil genius of the kingdom, was ominous of 
 greater peril to the prerogatives claimed by the Crown. Eliot, 
 Wentworth, Philips, Coke, Selden, and the other leaders of the 
 Commons, had during the past six months realized, not without 
 fear and trembling, that one greater than Buckingham was 
 responsible for the abuse of liberty and the false principles of 
 government, of which the effects were only too evident in misery 
 and oppression. Not Buckingham, but the King himself was 
 the cause of the nation's troubles ; and it was not now a question 
 of impeaching a minister, but of compelling the sovereign him- 
 self to conform to the constitution violated in defiance of all the 
 liberties of the people gained through centuries of strife. 
 
 By one of the strangest paradoxes of history, the leader of 
 the House of Commons in this Parliament of 1628 was Went- 
 worth, who afterwards as Lord Strafford, " as every schoolboy 
 knows " (in the words of Macaulay, whose ignorance of this 
 great character was as colossal as his insolence towards him), 
 was sent to the scaffold for his " thorough " way of upholding 
 the powers of the Crown, and governing the country with iron 
 discipline. The day will come when history must reverse 
 its verdict upon Wentworth. Charles has been condemned in 
 every text-book for his cowardice in abandoning his minister, 
 and the condemnation is just, but more severe should be the 
 condemnation of the English people, who, forgetting all they 
 owed to this courageous champion of their freedom, the author 
 of the Petition of Right, hounded him to the block. Macaulay's 
 wild and wanton words with which he stabbed Wentworth's 
 name and fame, as the murderer of his first wife, the debaucher 
 
358 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 of women, " the wicked earl," the first Englishman to whom a 
 peerage was a " sacrament of infamy," the " lost Archangel, the 
 Satan of the apostacy," recoil upon his own head, and. those 
 who know anything of Strafford now, know that he was a noble 
 gentleman, of infinite tenderness towards his family, of strict 
 and pure morality, of high ideals from which he never swerved, 
 of dauntless courage, of untainted patriotism, the wisest governor 
 Ireland has ever had, and the leader of the House in that great 
 Parliamentary struggle of 1628, when he pledged himself "to 
 vindicate — what ? New things ? No I our ancient, sober^ and 
 vital liberties ! by reinforcing of the ancient laws made by our 
 ancestors ; by setting such a stamp upon them as no licentious 
 spirit shall dare hereafter to enter upon them." 
 
 History has not yet done justice to that great drama of 1628, 
 when Wentworth, Eliot, Selden, and Coke reasserted the old 
 liberties with a new faith ; nor has history made the characters 
 of those men live in the imagination of the English people as 
 the men of the French Revolution have been given an immor- 
 tality. Yet they were hardly less remarkable. Wentworth's 
 political career is a curious parallel to that of Mirabeau, though 
 in purity of character he was a nobler Mirabeau. They have 
 both suffered from the stupid ignorance of people who cannot 
 realize that apparent inconsistency is sometimes the greatest 
 proof of sincerity. Mirabeau was a great champion of liberty, 
 yet he allied himself with the Crown because he hated anarchy. 
 So it was with Wentworth. Sir John Eliot may be compared 
 to Robespierre, though he was more of a gentleman, less of 
 the doctrinaire, and not bloodthirsty. He was a convinced 
 democrat, and believed in the majesty of the people as much 
 as Wentworth believed in the constitutional monarchy, and in 
 his fiery eloquence appealing always to first principles and to 
 the sovereign liberty of man, he had much in common with the 
 forerunners of the great Revolution which changed the face 
 of Europe a century and a half later. And Sir Edward 
 Coke — he is hardly known by the average Englishman, even by 
 the well-read Englishman, yet there has hardly lived in this 
 country a man of more remarkable character than that dogged 
 violent old man, as sullen and ferocious as a bulldog, violent 
 and brutal in his speech, worshipping the letter of the law of 
 which he was a master, supreme in his knowledge of old 
 
SIR EDWARD COKE 
 
 AFTER A PORTRAIT BV CORNELIUS JANSSEN VAN CEULEN 
 
THE KING'S THIRD PARLIAMENT 359 
 
 statutes and charters of liberty. Seventeenth-century England 
 owed him more than has been acknowledged, for though 
 Wentworth and Eliot upheld* the ideals of liberty, differing 
 in their principles, but working together for the same purpose, 
 it was Coke's genius as a lawyer that bore down all opposition 
 to the new charter of liberty set forth in the Petition of Right. 
 
 The narrative of the Parliament of 1628 belongs more to 
 the history of England than to the life of Buckingham. The 
 Duke took but little part in it, for the fight was in the Commons, 
 and he was absorbed in military and political administration. 
 
 It is enough to recall the main features of this Parliament 
 so far as they affected his life and purpose. In his speech to 
 his Commons, Charles gave them clearly to understand that 
 he had summoned them for but one reason. He wanted money 
 to carry on his Government and the war, and he bade them 
 pass subsidies sufficient for his needs. They ignored his 
 demand, and proceeded to discuss grievances — the wrongful 
 imprisonment of citizens without trial, the illegal attempts at 
 taxation, the abuses arising from the billeting of soldiers in the 
 houses of private citizens with or without payment, the viola- 
 tion of the liberties of the subject by seizing men to serve 
 unwillingly in the army and navy. The debates should be read 
 in full by every student of history, for they rose to great heights 
 of eloquence when Eliot was on fire with passion for freedom, 
 and when Wentworth's solemn oratory defined the liberties 
 of both Crown and people. They talked on for days and 
 weeks, and in this discussion of grievances supplies were not 
 considered. There is no doubt that Charles, though passionate 
 with anger, was also deeply alarmed. The battle of words in 
 the House was like the thunder of guns threatening the 
 supremacy of the Crown. He sent down word that he was 
 ready to redress grievances if they would only enable him 
 to meet his expenses. By Wentworth's influence the House 
 then prepared to vote a large supply. Wentworth was sincerely 
 anxious to make provision for the defence of the kingdom, 
 provided the liberties of the nation were secured. Unlike 
 Eliot, who wanted to rake up past evils, and discuss the 
 details of foreign policy, he was anxious to restore order in 
 the kingdom by strengthening the Government and creating 
 new checks to prevent future abuses. He would have nothing 
 
360 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 to do with regulating the way in which the money should be 
 spent. Let the King have his supplies with the responsibility 
 of them, and then let him, in return, be compelled to obey the 
 laws of the constitution summed up in new resolutions based 
 on ancient rights. They must be cautious that the actual 
 grants did not precede the redress of grievances. 
 
 He carried the House with him, and then immediately pro- 
 ceeded to vote five subsidies. Eliot's voice, protesting against 
 this liberality, was drowned by the general consent of the other 
 members. When Sir John Coke, one of the secretaries of State, 
 carried the news to the King, Charles was so astonished that he 
 could hardly believe it. " Then his Majesty expressed wonderful 
 joy and contentment, saying he was more happy than any of 
 the Kings his predecessors ; and then, asking Sir John Coke 
 further, by how many voices he carried it, he answered but by 
 one voice. Whereat his majesty, being at first somewhat appalled, 
 Sir John replied, his Majesty had so much the greater cause of 
 joy, the whole house being so unanimous, as they made all but 
 one voice : at which, they say, his Majesty wept." * 
 
 Buckingham was as much rejoiced as the King, for the 
 promise of the subsidies was like a golden vision to him in his 
 present desperate want of means to support the army and navy. 
 At the Council table, in the presence of the King, he made a 
 speech in which he expressed his great joy with extraordinary 
 emotion and high-flown eloquence. 
 
 "Sir," he said, "methinks I behold you a great King, for 
 love is greater than Majesty ; opinion that the people loved you 
 not, had almost lost you in the opinion of the world ; but this 
 day makes you appear as you are, a glorious King, loved at 
 home, and now to be feared abroad ; this falling out so happily, 
 give me leave, I beseech you, to be a humble suitor to your 
 Majesty ; i.e. for myself that I who have had the honour to be 
 your favourite may now give up that title unto them, they to 
 be your favourites, and I your servant. My second suit is 
 that they having done also well you will account of them as 
 one ; a body of many members, but all of one heart : opinion 
 might have made them differ, but affection did move them all 
 to join with like love in the great gift ; for proportion, although 
 it be less than your occasions may ask, yet it is more than our 
 
 * Mead to Stuteville. 
 
THE KING'S THIRD PARLIAMENT 361 
 
 subjects did give in so short a time ; nor am I persuaded it will 
 rest there, for this is but as an earnest of your affections, to let 
 you see, and the world know, what subjects you have, that when 
 the honour and the good of the State is engaged, and aid asked 
 in the ordinary way of Parliament you cannot want This is 
 not the gift of five subsidies alone, but of a mine of subsidies 
 that lieth in their hearts." 
 
 After more of this rather wordy rhetoric in the spirit of his 
 time, Buckingham alluded to his own relations with the House : 
 
 " Now, Sir, to open my heart, and to ease my grief, please 
 you to pardon me a word more ; I must confess I have long 
 lived in pain, they hath given me no rest, favours and fortune 
 no content, such hath been my secret sorrows, to be thought the 
 man of separation, and that divided the king from his people, 
 and turn from him ; but I hope it shall appear, they were some 
 mistaken minds, that would have made me the evil spirit, that 
 walketh between a good master and loyal people, by ill offices ; 
 whereas by your Majesty's favour, I shall ever endeavour to 
 approve myself a good spirit, breathing nothing but the best 
 of services to them all. Therefore this day I account more 
 blessed to me than my birth, to see myself able to serve them, 
 to see you brought in love with Parliament^to see a Parliament 
 express such love for you ; and God so love me and mine, as I 
 joy to see this day." * 
 
 There is no reason to doubt the ring of real emotion in this 
 speech. After so many grievous troubles it seemed to both 
 Charles and Buckingham that they were to be supported in 
 future by the people and the representatives of the people. Yet 
 Buckingham's speech was hardly spoken before it brought him 
 trouble, for when Secretary Coke returned the King's answer 
 and thanks to the Commons, he brought down a severe rehuke 
 upon himself for reporting at the same time these words of the 
 Duke. Sir John Eliot protested that it was contrary to privilege 
 that a Royal message to the Commons should be intermingled 
 with words by a subject, and Buckingham was given to under- 
 stand that though the House had tacitly abandoned their 
 impeachment of him, they had no better love for him. 
 
 The King also was grievously disappointed in his expectation 
 of the immediate granting of the promised supplies, and deeply 
 
 * Rushworth. 
 
362 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 wounded when he found that the Commons would not actually 
 pass them until the Bill which afterwards became the Petition of 
 Right had received his formal assent. He endeavoured to elude 
 the matter by expressing in general words that right should be 
 done according to the laws, and that his subjects should have no 
 reason to complain of wrongs or oppressions. He sent a 
 message desiring to know whether they would trust to his good- 
 ness and rely on his promise or not ? It was an embarrassing 
 question, for they had trusted the King's promise before, without 
 avail. A debate took place, in which it was resolved that the 
 King's general word was not a sufficient answer. In the mean 
 time the resolution of the Commons had been submitted to the 
 Lords, and Buckingham was at last able to defend what he 
 thought were the King's interests in this great political strife. 
 By his influence the Lords endeavoured to water down the 
 resolutions of the Commons by an additional clause, in which 
 the King's " Sovereign power " was left untouched. It was a 
 parallel to the " Veto " for which Mirabeau fought in the French 
 Revolution, thereby arousing the hostility of the republicans, 
 who accused him of selling himself to the Royalists. This 
 addition being sent back to the Commons was received by them 
 with scorn and indignation as yielding everything they were 
 struggling for. Sir Edward Coke in his blunt way declared 
 that " to speak plainly, it will overthrow all our Petition ; it 
 trenches to all parts of it. ... I know that Prerogative is part 
 of the Law, but Sovereign Power is no Parliamentary word. In 
 my opinion it weakens Magna Charta, and all our statutes. . . . 
 Magna Charta is such a fellow that he will have no Sovereign. 
 I wonder this Sovereign was not in Magna Charta or in the 
 confirmation of it. If we grant this, by implication we give a 
 Sovereign power above all these laws." 
 
 Sir Thomas Wentworth, though he was a firm upholder of 
 the King's authority according to the constitution, now also 
 agreed that this additional clause would wreck the whole spirit 
 of the Petition of Right, by giving the King power to override 
 all its provisions. " If we do admit of this addition," he said, 
 " we shall have the subject worse than we found him, and we 
 shall have little thanks for all our labour when we come home. 
 Let us leave all power to his Majesty to punish malefactors ; 
 but these laws are not acquainted with Sovereign Power ; we 
 
THE KING'S THIRD PARLIAMENT 363 
 
 desire no new King, but nor do we offer to trench on his 
 Majesty's prerogative ; we may not recede from this Petition 
 either in part or whole. To add a saving is not safe ; doubtful 
 words may beget ill construction, and the words are not only 
 doubtful words, but words unknown to us, and never used in any 
 Act or Petition before." 
 
 Stormy debates and lengthy conferences between the two 
 Houses followed, and Buckingham was unable to carry the 
 Lords with him any further, in his attempt to secure the King's 
 absolute autocracy. Eventually the peers agreed to the reso- 
 lution of the Commons, and the Petition of Right was adopted 
 without a single essential alteration. 
 
 Another message was now received from the King " that his 
 Majesty was resolved neither to add to nor alter the answer he 
 had given them," that is, a general promise to redress grievances 
 and act according to the law. 
 
 This reply after all their labours stirred up an extraordinary 
 demonstration of anger in the Lower House, and, suspect- 
 ing, without cause, that the King's behaviour was due to the 
 influence of Buckingham, they vented their rage upon him, as 
 the cause of all the disasters and ill-government of the past 
 years. These words coming to the King's ears, he sent a further 
 message "absolutely forbidding them to meddle with the 
 Government or any of his Majesty's ministers, but if they 
 meant to have this session, forthwith to finish what they had 
 begun " [that is, the passing of the subsidies], " otherwise his 
 Majesty would dismiss them." 
 
 This threat of a dissolution before the Petition of Right had 
 been granted caused a feeling of intense grief among the men 
 who had been inspired by a great and patriotic fervour to 
 re-enact the liberties gained by their forefathers. 
 
 " Then appeared such a spectacle of passions, as the like had 
 seldom been seen in such an assembly, some weeping, some 
 expostulating, some prophesying of the fatal ruin of our 
 kingdom, some playing the divines, in comparing their own and 
 country's ruins, which drew those judgments upon us ; some 
 finding, as it were, fault with those that wept, and expressing 
 their bold and courageous resolutions against the enemies of 
 the King and kingdom." * 
 
 * Mead to Stuteville. 
 
364 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 There was only one enemy in their mind — poor Bucking- 
 ham, who but a few days before had been praising them so 
 eloquently. 
 
 Sir Robert Phelips, in a voice broken with emotion, spoke 
 despairingly of the result of all their labours. " What did we 
 aim at," he said, " but to have served his Majesty and to have' 
 done that which would have made him great and glorious ? If 
 this be a fault, then we are all criminous. . . . Since our counsels 
 are no better acceptable, let us pray his Majesty's leave every 
 man to depart home and pray God to divert those judgments 
 and dangers which too fearfully and imminently hang over our 
 heads." 
 
 Presently Eliot rose, and spoke as though choked with 
 sorrow. He thought that there had been misrepresentations to 
 the King. " It is said also as if we cast some aspersions on his 
 Majesty's ministers. ... I am confident that no minister, however 
 dear, soever " 
 
 He never finished his speech, for the Speaker, Sir John Finch, 
 rose hastily, the tears streaming down his cheeks. "There is 
 a command laid upon me," he said, " that I must command you 
 not to proceed." 
 
 Sir John Eliot sat down, and Sir Dudley Digges cried out 
 with a groan, " Let us sit in silence. We are miserable ; we 
 know not what to do." 
 
 For a time there was a deep and sad silence in the 
 House, broken only by the sobs of men moved beyond their 
 strength. 
 
 At last Sir Nathaniel Rich rose, unable to bear this dread 
 silence longer. "We must now speak, or for ever hold our 
 peace," he said. " For us to be silent when kings and kingdom 
 are in this calamity is not fit. The question is whether we shall ^ 
 secure ourselves by silence, yea or nay ? I know it is more for 
 our security, but it is not for the security of those for whom we 
 serve. . . . Let us go together to the Lords and show our 
 danger, then we may go to the King together." 
 
 It was then resolved, "That the House be turned into a 
 committee, to consider what is fit to be done for the safety of 
 the kingdom, and that no man go out upon pain of going to 
 the Tower." 
 
 But before the Speaker left the chair, still weeping, he 
 
THE KING'S THIRD PARLIAMENT 365 
 
 obtained leave to go out, and this being granted, he went 
 straight to the King to lay before him the sorrow of the House. 
 
 As soon as he had gone, the old lawyer, Coke, rose in his 
 place, and all his pent-up feelings were let loose in words of such 
 glowing heat that he forgot all prudence, all Royal commands 
 laid upon the House, all but the liberties of Parliament and 
 People which he had striven for so long, and now were to be 
 frustrated, as it seemed, through the evil influence of one man. 
 
 " Let us palliate no longer," he said. " If we do, God will 
 not prosper us. I think the Duke of Buckingham is the cause 
 of all our miseries ; and till the King be informed thereof we 
 shall never go out with honour, or sit with honour here ; this 
 man is the grievance of grievances. Let us set down the cause 
 of our disasters, and all will reflect on him." 
 
 These words roused all the latent passion of those men 
 whose ambitions had been highly strained throughout this great 
 scene. "As when one good hound recover the scent," wrote 
 a contemporary letter-writer, " the rest come in with a full cry, 
 so they pursued it, and every one came on home, and laid the 
 blame where they thought the fault was." 
 
 They were interrupted in this chorus of condemnation of 
 the Duke by the return of the Speaker from the King, with a 
 message that the House should rise until to-morrow morning. 
 " What shall happen in the morning God of Heaven knows ! " 
 was the thought of many more than the man who put these 
 words of gloom into his letter. 
 
 But on the day after this "Black Thursday," as it was 
 called, when the members of the House of Commons were 
 again preparing a Remonstrance to the King, they received 
 an unexpected message from the Lords, desiring the Commons 
 to join in a request to his Majesty for another answer to 
 the Petition of Right. This was gladly agreed to, and 
 Charles found himself faced not only by a hostile House of 
 Commons, but by a united Parliament. He was compelled to 
 yield, and the next day, coming down to the House of Lords, 
 and summoning the Commons, declared his wish to have the 
 Petition of Right read to him. 
 
 "The answer I have already given you," he said, "was 
 made with so good deliberation and approved by the judgment 
 of so many good men, that I could not have imagined but that 
 
366 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 it would have given full satisfaction, but to avoid all ambiguous 
 interpretations, and show you there is no doubleness in my 
 meaning, I am willing to please you in words as in substance. 
 Read your Petition, and you shall have an answer that I am 
 sure will please you." 
 
 Then was read that appeal to the ancient constitution which, 
 after the recital of various statutes, prayed of the kingdom 
 "that no man be compelled to make or yield any gift, loan, 
 benevolence, tax, or such like charge without common consent 
 by Act of Parliament ; that none be called upon to make answer 
 for refusal so to do ; that freemen be imprisoned or detained 
 only by the law of the land, on any due process of law, and 
 not by the King's special demand, without any charge; that 
 persons be not compelled to receive soldiers and mariners into 
 their houses against the laws and customs of the realm ; that 
 commissions for proceeding by martial law be revoked." 
 
 The King answered this Petition according to the ancient 
 formula by which the Sovereigns of England gave their assent 
 to Acts of Parliament : " Le Droict soit faict comme il est 
 desire." 
 
 Then, rising, he spoke a few words in which his ill temper 
 struggled with his desire to be gracious. 
 
 "This, I am sure is full," he said, "yet no more than I 
 granted you in my first answer. You see now how ready I 
 have showed myself to satisfy your demands ; so that I have 
 done my part. Wherefore if this Parliament hath not a happy 
 conclusion, the sin is yours. I am free of it." 
 
 The news that the Petition of Right had been granted caused 
 extraordinary demonstrations of joy, such as had not been seen 
 since the return of the Prince from Madrid. The streets blazed 
 with bonfires far into the night, and the bells of the city churches 
 rang out with glad peals. But whereas on that other day, when 
 the two adventurers had returned from Spain Buckingham had 
 been acclaimed as a hero, now his name was cursed in the same 
 breath that shouted loyalty to Charles. Many believed that the 
 Petition of Right was his death-warrant, and there were wild 
 rumours that he had already been committed to the Tower. 
 From York House to Whitehall the Duke may have looked 
 down on the flames rising from the bonfires, and heard the 
 crowds shouting his name with threats and curses ; and in that 
 
THE KING'S THIRD PARLIAMENT 367 
 
 hour he must have been filled with a great melancholy, and with 
 wonder that he should be so hated in the nation though he had 
 not spared himself in its service, and risked life itself and all 
 most dear to him, in duty to his King and country. It was not 
 in his nature to understand that the highest motives do not 
 make amends for failure. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 THE ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 ALTHOUGH the Commons had won a great victory after 
 their long and heated strife, they did not rest from their 
 labours nor rely solely on the Petition of Right to safeguard the 
 liberties of the realm. That had set forth clearly and unmis- 
 takably the principles of the Constitution, but they decided to 
 proceed with the Remonstrance in order to still further empha- 
 size to the King the particulars of the grievances under which 
 the country was suffering. The thought comes to one that 
 there was something rather ungenerous in this. It was " rubbing 
 it in," to use a popular phrase, with a vengeance. But the 
 King's angry messages to the House, and Buckingham's 
 attempt to vitiate the whole spirit of the Petition by adding the 
 clause relating to the " Sovereign power," had roused the temper 
 of the members in the Lower House. In spite of that command 
 sent down to them by the King before his assent to the Peti- 
 tion, that they should not "meddle" with his Ministers, they 
 deliberately exasperated him, directly naming the Duke in the 
 Remonstrance as the cause of the national disasters. This 
 accusation of Buckingham was not made without a heated 
 debate, many believing that it was sufficient to imply the fact 
 without stating it. Some of the members made a distinction 
 that the Duke was "the cause of some and a cause of other 
 grievances." It was but a subtle distinction, and they went on 
 to accuse him of " the disaster of the armies, the decay of ports, 
 trade, ships, and mariners." They also maintained that he was 
 an evil influence in matters of religion, his mother being "a 
 recusant and fosterer of recusants," and he employing Papists in 
 the army and elsewhere, as witness the man Dalbier, "who 
 betrayed our men at the Isle of RheV' York House was also 
 
 368 
 
THE ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE 369 
 
 notorious as the meeting-place of the " Arminians," or Catholic 
 party in the English Church, " from whence is likely to follow 
 innovation in government." Sir Robert Philips moved that the 
 Declaration should run thus : " We conceive the greatness and 
 power of the Duke of Buckingham is the chief cause of all 
 these evils." 
 
 Buckingham was not entirely without friends to defend his 
 honour in the Lower House. Sir Humphry May, one of his 
 earliest friends, reminded the House of the King's desire that 
 all personal aspersions should be put on one side, and that the 
 King would take it as an argument of their moderation and 
 judgment if they forebore in this. Sir Henry Martin de- 
 fended the Duke's conformity to the Established Church, and 
 that never had anything more grieved him than his mother's 
 change of religion, so that he had used every means to con- 
 vert her. As " for his own Lady, whom he found not firm in 
 religion, he hath used means to confirm her." Sir Benjamin 
 Rudyard bore witness that the Duke had done many great 
 and good offices to the House. " If," he said earnestly, " the 
 forfeiture of my life could breed an opinion that ye should have 
 no occasion to complain of your next meeting, I would pawn 
 it to you." Sir Thomas Jermyn stood up in defence of the 
 Duke's adviser Dalbier, who, he said, had given great evidence 
 of his trust and fidelity. 
 
 But these friendly voices were silenced by the hostile 
 arguments of the majority in the House, Wentworth, Coke, 
 and Selden being most resolute that the Duke should be 
 named in the Remonstrance. This was eventually agreed to, 
 and the Remonstrance was formally drawn up. After a 
 rehearsal of the great fear entertained as to an innovation in 
 religion owing to the leniency shown to the Catholics, and the 
 favour toward the High Church party, a protest was made 
 against the maladministration of the army and navy, and the 
 ill conduct of the late expeditions to Calais, the Isle of Rhe, and 
 Rochelle, which had " extremely wasted that stock of honour 
 that was left unto this kingdom, sometimes terrible to all other 
 nations, and now declining to contempt beneath the meanest." 
 
 In order that the King might have " more exact informa- 
 tion," a "Kalendar of Particulars" accompanied the Remon- 
 strance with regard to the decay of trade, the weakness of the 
 
 2 B 
 
370 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 coast defences, and the inefficiency and corruption of the naval 
 contractors. 
 
 Then the Remonstrance went directly to the root of 
 the matter as it appeared to the majority of the House of 
 Commons. " The principal cause of which evils and dangers," 
 it said, " we conceive to be the excessive power of the Duke of 
 Buckingham, and the abuse of that power: and we humbly 
 submit unto your Majesty's excellent wisdom, whether it be 
 safe for your self or your kingdoms, that so great power as 
 rests in him by the Sea and Land should be in the hands of 
 any one subject whatever. . . . And our humble desire is 
 further, that your most excellent Majesty will be pleased to 
 take into your most Princely consideration, whether, in respect 
 the said Duke hath so abused his power it be safe for your 
 Majesty and his kingdom to continue him either in his great 
 offices or in his place of nearness and counsel about your sacred 
 person." 
 
 Before this Remonstrance was presented to the King, the 
 Subsidy Bill being delayed until he had received this (as 
 though the pill and the jam should be taken together), the 
 King, who was, of course, not ignorant of its contents, answered 
 the denunciation of the Duke, not directly, but very significantly, 
 by giving an order to the Attorney-General to expunge from 
 the files of the Star Chamber Court all record of the Bill of 
 Attainder or " Information " against him, " for that his Majesty 
 is fully satisfied of the innocency of that Duke in all those 
 things mentioned in the said information." But though the 
 King showed them clearly that he would stand by Buckingham 
 against all his enemies, and maintain his innocence and honour 
 as he would his own, the proceeding of the Remonstrance had 
 a profound effect upon the popular imagination. On the very 
 day when it was resolved to name him as the cause of all the 
 evils of the kingdom, that is on June 1 5, an extraordinary scene 
 of violence took place iq the streets of London, showing the 
 intensity of hatred which inflamed the populace against the 
 Duke and all suspected of being in league with him. 
 
 A notorious quack-doctor, astrologer, and potion-maker, one 
 of that body of low scoundrels who pandered to the super- 
 stitions and evil passions of women like Lady Somerset and 
 Buckingham's sister-in-law, Lady Purbeck (with whom he 
 
THE ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE 371 
 
 undoubtedly had dealings), was supposed to be a panderer to 
 Buckingham and his mother. It is not, of course, improbable 
 that he had had some dealings with the Duke and the Countess, 
 because they, like other people of their age, and like modern 
 society, were prone to believe in crystal-gazing, fortune- telling, 
 and other methods of getting a glimpse into the unknown. 
 But, as a matter of fact, there is every reason to believe that 
 Buckingham did not know this man and had never seen him. 
 Be that as it mlay, this wretched creature was popularly known 
 as " the Duke's Devil," and one evening as he was going through 
 Moorgate a crowd followed at his heels and shouted that name 
 at him. Lamb snarled back at them with curses, and then 
 took refuge at a cook-shop, the mob watching him while he 
 supped, and waiting like dogs at a rat-hole. When he came 
 out they closed round upon him with greater menace, but he 
 managed to get as far as the Windmill Tavern in Lothbury, 
 where he again took shelter. But the tumult increased to such 
 a pitch that the vintner, fearing that his inn would be sacked, 
 "thrust the imaginary devil out of his house" by the back 
 door. The mob soon began to hoot and shout at him, calling 
 him a witch and a devil, and then began to stone him. The 
 news of the tumult having reached the city authorities, the 
 Lord Mayor sent a guard to rescue him, but seeing the officers 
 approach the mob set on the unfortunate wretch, and knocked 
 him about so unmercifully that he was nearly dead before the 
 guard got him out of their clutches. In this condition they 
 carried him to the Counter, a house in the Poultry, where the 
 next morning he died in agony.* "Some say," says Mead, 
 "that keeper got above 20/. by taking a groat apiece of such 
 as came to see him when he was dead." 
 
 The fate of this impostor, who seems to have been of the 
 vilest character, would not have been of great account but for 
 the way in which his name was coupled with that of Buckingham. 
 The mob that had mauled and mangled him had openly 
 declared their hatred of " the Duke; his master," as they called 
 him, and swore horribly that " had he been there they would 
 have handled him worse, and would have minced his flesh, and 
 had every one a bit of him." Two lines of doggerel verse were 
 also openly sung in the streets — 
 
 * Rushworth, Mead, etc. 
 
372 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 " Let Charles and George do what they can, 
 The Duke shall dye like Doctor Lamb." 
 
 On the night after the murder, a libel was taken down from 
 a post in Coleman Street by a constable, who carried it to the 
 Lord Mayor, and by him was sent by two sheriffs to the King, 
 with orders that none other should see it. The gist of it was 
 put into a kind of epigram : — 
 
 " Who rules the kingdom ? — The King ! 
 Who rules the King ?— The Duke ! ! 
 Who rules the Duke ?— The Devil ! ! ! " 
 
 Then said the authors of the libel, " Let the Duke look to 
 it," for they intended shortly to use him worse than they did the 
 doctor ; and if things be not shortly reformed, tney will work a 
 reformation themselves. Charles was highly incensed at these 
 anonymous threats, and ordered a double guard to be on watch 
 in the city every night. But no guards could restrain the satire 
 and hatred of the London populace, and the foulest songs about 
 the Duke were sung in the taverns, while threats and libels con- 
 tinued to be published. Buckingham had already been com- 
 pelled to take notice of two libels brought to his notice. Two 
 days before Lamb's death, he rose in the House of Lords and 
 said that he had been informed that one, Mr. Christopher 
 Eukener, of the House of Commons, had affirmed that the 
 Duke had spoken the following words at his own table : " Tush ! 
 it makes no matter what the Commons or Parliament doth, for 
 without my leave and authority they shall not be able to touch 
 the hair of a dog." Buckingham protested upon his honour 
 that he had never had those words so much as in his thoughts. 
 
 He then charged one, Mr. Melvin, with having spoken the 
 most scandalous and libellous words against him, to the effect 
 that he was plotting to dissolve Parliament and war against 
 the Commonwealth with a great army of horse and foot ; that 
 he had a counsel of Jesuits and Scotsmen, who met at his house 
 every night between one and three o'clock ; that the blood of 
 King James and the Marquis of Hamilton cried out for ven- 
 geance to Heaven, and that he had a cardinal for his uncle, or 
 near kinsman, with whom he was in secret communication. 
 
 About this time Buckingham was grossly insulted by a man 
 in the very presence of the King when they were at bowls 
 
THE ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE 373 
 
 together in Spring Gardens. A Scotsman, named Wilson, 
 seeing that the Duke had his hat on, snatched it off, saying, 
 "You must not stand with your hat on before my King." 
 Buckingham, deeply incensed, was about to kick him off the 
 ground, when the King said, " Let him be, George ; he is 
 either mad or a fool." " No, sir," said the Scotsman. " I am a 
 sober man ; but this man's health is pledged with as much 
 devotion at Dunkirk as your Majesty's own," meaning that the 
 Duke was in league with the French. Then he took to his 
 heels and escaped, but afterwards a warrant was made for his 
 arrest. 
 
 On June 17 the Remonstrance was presented to the King 
 by the Speaker of the House of Commons, in the banqueting- 
 house ; and at the same time the Bill of Subsidy was sent to 
 the Lords. The King answered the Remonstrance curtly, saying 
 that he did not expect such a thing after he had so graciously 
 granted them the Petition of Right. As for their grievances, 
 he would consider them as they should deserve. Buckingham, 
 who was present, then fell on his knees, desiring the King's 
 leave to answer for himself ; but Charles would not suffer him 
 to speak on the subject, and with every sign of affection before 
 all assembled gave him his hand to kiss. 
 
 In the mean time a new and serious question had been raised 
 in the House of Commons. Charles had issued instructions 
 for the collection of tonnage and poundage, that is to say 
 taxes on merchandise and shipping. This was considered a 
 direct violation of the Petition of Right, which now declared 
 that no taxes were to be levied without consent of Parliament, 
 and the Commons at once proceeded to draw up another 
 Remonstrance on that subject. But Charles was determined 
 not to yield any further, and on June 21 he summoned the 
 whole House to Whitehall, when he declared his intention of 
 immediately ending the session. 
 
 " I am truly informed," he said, " that a second Remonstrance 
 is preparing for me to take away the profit of my Tonnage 
 and Poundage, one of the chief maintenances of my crown, by 
 alledging I have given away my right thereto by my answer to 
 your petition." 
 
 Clearly and emphatically he gave them to understand that 
 he would not allow them to put any interpretation to his assent 
 
374 THE FIRST DUKE OP BUCKINGHAM 
 
 to that petition which should intrench upon his constitutional 
 prerogative according to the law of the land. Turning to the 
 judges, he said that he addressed himself particularly to 
 them : " For to you only, under me, belongs the interpretation 
 of Laws, for none of the Houses of Parliament, either loyal or 
 separate (whereat Doctrine soever may be raised) have any 
 power either to make or declare a Law without my consent." 
 
 Then having given his Royal assent to the Bill of Subsidy 
 and to other private Bills, he prorogued the Parliament until 
 the 20th of October following. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 BUCKINGHAM'S LAST VOYAGE 
 
 TOWARDS the end of April Lord Denbigh, after all his 
 delays, at last got out of Plymouth Sound with his fleet 
 and set sail for Rochelle, accompanied by the Rochellese 
 officers who had returned with Buckingham after the retreat 
 from the Isle of Rhe. But, upon reaching the Protestant port 
 of France, Denbigh was staggered by the formidable obstructions 
 to the harbour which had been built by Richelieu's instructions, 
 and it seemed impossible to this man of little daring to make 
 a successful attack. His want of confidence was shared by 
 his officers, and his men had no spirit in them. After waiting 
 a few days in doubt, Denbigh was seized with a sudden fear 
 that the French might make use of the wind blowing from 
 Rochelle to send down fire-ships into the midst of his fleet. 
 He gave orders to weigh anchor and to retire to some distance 
 away, but the signal was misinterpreted, and a part of the fleet, 
 believing it to be an order to abandon the expedition, sailed 
 for home. Thus deserted, the rest of the fleet followed the 
 miserable example. 
 
 Charles was furious when the news reached him. " If the 
 ships had been lost," he said, " I had timber enough to build 
 more." He sent Denbigh's son, Lord Fielding, to Portsmouth, 
 to urge his father to go back at all costs to Rochelle, and there 
 await further supplies. But Denbigh had many excuses, as to 
 his ships wanting re-victualling, and the sickness of his men, so 
 that Charles had to yield to his pleas for delay, though not 
 without bitterness and vexation of spirit. Buckingham shared 
 his anger and impatience, and believing once again in his own 
 power to succeed where others failed — forgetting his own failures 
 — now pressed forward preparations to lead a new expedition in 
 
 375 
 
376 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 person, in order to succour the Protestants of Rochelle, who were 
 now in the last straits of starvation. After the Dissolution of 
 Parliament, he remained for some time in London — the King 
 preceding him to Portsmouth — hastening the supplies for his 
 fleet, but finding his exertions met by a deadly inertia among 
 his officers and officials. For the first time in his life, he became 
 despondent " I find nothing," he wrote to Lord Conway, " of 
 more difficulty and uncertainty than the preparations here for 
 the service of Rochelle. Every man says he has all things 
 ready, and yet all remains as it were at a stand. It will be 
 Saturday night before all the victuals will be aboard, and I dare 
 not come from hence till I see that despatched, being of such 
 importance." At last, however, he was able to go down to 
 Portsmouth, and to complete his final business with the fleet. 
 
 While he was thus engaged, there was a man in London 
 busy with black thoughts and preparations for an evil deed 
 which would make all Buckingham's endeavours futile. It is a 
 strange thing in life that one man's fate is so dependent on 
 another's, and that two men moving, as it seems, in different 
 spheres, are brought close together by a series of small links in 
 a running chain. Buckingham, absorbed in business of State at 
 Portsmouth, and surrounded by a brilliant company of courtiers, 
 who paid homage to his greatness, never dreamed that his life 
 had anything in common with a man starving in a London 
 garret, or that the strength of the whole English fleet, upon 
 which his ambitions were again staked, was of less import- 
 ance to his own destiny than the strength of a tenpenny 
 blade in a cutler's shop on Tower Hill. But so it was. John 
 Felton, a young lieutenant who had served with him in 
 Rochelle, and who had been wounded in his service, was only one 
 among many thousands of soldiers who had just cause for dis- 
 content because their wages had been unpaid, but he happened 
 to be the one man in whom this grievance rankled so deeply 
 that it bred a black hatred in his brain, prompting him to take 
 revenge. Felton, who belonged to a good old Suffolk family, 
 was a man of education and serious character, who had nourished 
 ambitions suitable to his rank in life. When the captain of his 
 regiment was killed at Rh6, he expected and demanded pro- 
 motion. But promotion in those days, as now, went by favour, 
 and we know that Buckingham was constantly petitioned by 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S LAST VOYAGE 377 
 
 friends at home to find good places for their kinsmen. It is 
 probable that the Duke put some young sprig of nobility into 
 the dead captain's shoes, and it is certain that Felton was twice 
 refused. This cast a gloom upon his spirit, and with a jealous 
 nature breeding bile in him, he marked down the Duke as his 
 personal enemy. When he returned to England, maimed in 
 one hand, he found himself without means of livelihood, and 
 without a prospect of getting a decent living. His arrears of 
 pay amounted to about eight pounds, and, like many others, his 
 petitions for payment remained unanswered. Too proud to go 
 back to his family as a beggar, he stayed on in London, idle and 
 moody, and getting deeply into debt. He passed the weary 
 hours reading and brooding, and in his loneliness it seemed to 
 him that not only his personal grievances, but the troubles of 
 the whole nation, were centred in one man — that Duke who had 
 denied him his step in the regiment. His reading strengthened 
 this idea. Turning over the black-letter pages of the Remon- 
 strance of the Commons, he read that the Duke was the public 
 enemy, and the cause of all the miseries of the kingdom. 
 Reading by the light of a guttering wick in his poor lodging the 
 pamphlet of Dr. Eglesham, the physician of King James, there 
 was blood before his eyes, and horrid spectres about him, point- 
 ing with accusing fingers to the figure of the Duke as a regicide 
 and murderer. Reading again the current philosophy of popular 
 leaflets, full of crude ideas of ever-weakening democracy, hinting 
 at the gospel of revolution, he learnt that the deeds done for 
 the commonweal were good and righteous, and that tyranni- 
 cide was honest work. There was one such book found in his 
 trunk, called Golden Epistles. 
 
 In small chapels and churches in back streets, or from the 
 mouth of a ranting preacher at St. Paul's Cross, he heard men 
 denouncing in Puritan allegory the scarlet sins of the Court, and 
 in low taverns in the city he heard men cursing the Duke and 
 his master the Devil, or singing coarse ballads in which the 
 name of Buckingham was foully used. 
 
 So gradually in the unhappy gentleman's mind there grew a 
 purpose which became more fixed as the days passed, and his 
 starving poverty seemed to promise nothing but a wretched 
 death. He went about with a face on which was the tale of his 
 despair and dark dreams, and one of his acquaintances, seeing 
 
378 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 the poor wretch like this, tried to cheer him with a healthy 
 rebuke : " It is not fit for a soldier to want courage." Felton 
 answered with a sudden energy, "If I be angered or moved 
 they shall find I have courage enough." 
 
 On the morning of the 19th of August he went out to 
 Tower Hill, where he found a cutler's shop, and there, for ten- 
 pence, he bought that knife which destiny had sharpened on her 
 grindstone. Perhaps, as he stood in the booth trying the metal 
 of the blade with the hand that was not maimed, the cutler 
 may have wondered for a moment whether this shabby, gloomy 
 gentleman was going to take his own or some one else's life. 
 It was not an uncommon thing for a dead body to be found 
 by the watchmen in the narrow streets about the Tower, with a 
 blade in a heart that had suddenly stopped beating. But 
 business is business, and the cutler pocketed his pennies. 
 
 Felton went away, and sewed a sheath in his pocket for the 
 knife, so that he might draw it out easily with one hand, his left 
 being useless to him. Then, lest the world should think him a 
 common murderer, who was, instead, a martyr to the common- 
 weal (so he excused his contemplated crime), he sewed into his 
 hat a paper, on which he had written two sentences as texts to 
 justify his purpose : — 
 
 " If I be slain, let no man condemn me, but rather condemn 
 himself. It is for our sins that our hearts are hardened and 
 become senseless, or else we had not gone so long unpunished. 
 
 "John Felton" 
 
 And lower down : — 
 
 " He is unworthy of the name of a gentleman or soldier, in 
 my opinion, that is afraid to sacrifice his life for the honour of 
 God, his King, and country. 
 
 "John Felton"* 
 
 With these blurs scrawled upon the paper and hidden in his 
 hat, though imprinted with fire upon his heart, Felton passed 
 down Fleet Street and went into a church, where he left his 
 
 * This paper is now in the possession of the Earl of Jersey, descendant of Sir 
 Edward Villiers, the Duke's brother. 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S LAST VOYAGE 379 
 
 name to be prayed for as " a man much discontented in mind." 
 So do men invoke the name of God to do the devil's work. 
 Then Lieutenant Felton, late of the King's army at Rochelle, 
 set out on a long tramp to Portsmouth, getting a lift at times 
 from a friendly waggoner. Five days later, on the eve of St. 
 Bartholomew, the 23rd of August, he reached the seaport, which 
 was crowded with soldiers and sailors, and fine gentlemen of 
 fashion, while in the harbour lay the fleet which had given 
 Buckingham a world of care. 
 . On the very day before the Duke had been in great danger. 
 One of his sailors, mutinous like many of his fellows at being 
 dragged from home to go on a foreign service in rotten ships 
 with stinking food, and with little prospect of pay, had cursed 
 the Duke who was the cause of his wretchedness. There was 
 too much of this conduct among the seamen, and the officers of 
 the navy resolved to make a stern example of this man. He 
 was tried by court-martial and sentenced to death. On his way 
 to execution, a crowd of his comrades, inflamed with passion at 
 the sight of this victim, who seemed to them a champion of their 
 own grievances, attacked the guard and attempted his rescue. 
 A desperate struggle took place, and Buckingham rode up with 
 a cavalcade to defend the officers of the law against the angry 
 mob of seamen. Followed by his horsemen, he rode in among 
 them, driving them in retreat to their ships. In the turmoil two 
 of the men were killed and many wounded. Then the Duke 
 and his gentlemen formed themselves into an escort, and 
 guarded the doomed man on his way to the gibbet. But for 
 this mutiny his life would have been spared, for the Duchess of 
 Buckingham, whose heart was always gentle and full of mercy, 
 had interceded for the poor wretch. But in attempting his 
 rescue his comrades had fastened the noose round his throat. 
 For the sake of discipline there could be no pardon for him now. 
 After the grim scene at the gallows, Buckingham rode back, but 
 a menacing mob hung upon his heels, and anxious for his 
 safety his officers ringed themselves about him, and so brought 
 him to a house in the High Street, used as a lodging by Captain 
 Mason, the treasurer of the army, with whom the Duke and his 
 lady were staying. 
 
 It was an ugly incident. Significant not only of the 
 mutinous temper of the seamen on the eve of departure for 
 
380 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 active service, but of the personal danger threatening the 
 Duke, who was so evidently the object of popular hatred. 
 Friends ventured to warn him, but he laughed at their fears, as 
 he had laughed at the reports of an attempt to be made upon 
 him. When young Fielding tried to change clothes on the way 
 to London, Buckingham's natural courage was not shaken by 
 unsteady nerves. Sir Clement Throgmorton, a few weeks 
 before, had begged him to wear a shirt of mail beneath his 
 clothes. " 'Twould be but a silly defence against any popular 
 fury," answered the Duke ; " as for a single man's assault, I 
 take myself to be in no danger. There are no Roman spirits 
 left."' 
 
 Yet, if we may believe a story told and vouched for by the 
 Earl of Clarendon, Buckingham had received a supernatural 
 warning of an untimely end. It is one of the ghost stories of 
 history, and, says Clarendon, "upon a better foundation of 
 credit than usually such discourses are founded upon." Accord- 
 ing to this curious tale, there was an officer in the King's 
 wardrobe at Windsor Castle, of about fifty years of age, and of 
 a good reputation for honesty and discretion, who had been 
 befriended as a boy by Buckingham's father, Sir George Villiers. 
 About six months before the Duke was at Portsmouth, on 
 August 23rd, this man was in his bed at Windsor, when there 
 appeared before him, about midnight, a venerable figure who 
 drew the bed-curtains and, fixing his eyes on the King's servant, 
 asked him if he knew him. 
 
 " The poor man, half dead with fear and apprehension, being 
 asked the second time whether he remembered him, and having 
 in that time called to his memory the presence of Sir George 
 Villiers, and the very clothes he used to wear, in which at that 
 time he seemed to be habited, he answered that he thought him 
 to be that person. He replied he was in the right ; that he 
 was the same, and that he expected a service from him : which 
 was that he should go to his son, the Duke of Buckingham, and 
 tell him if he did not do something to ingratiate himself to the 
 people, or, at least, to abate the extreme malice they had against 
 him, he would be suffered to live a short time." 
 
 The ghostly figure then disappeared, and the wardrobe 
 officer believed he had had nothing but a bad dream. But 
 
 » Wotton's " Reliqute." 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S LAST VOYAGE 381 
 
 twice more the apparition appeared, the third time very angry 
 that his command had not been performed. Quaking with 
 terror the man excused himself on account of the difficulty 
 of obtaining admission to the Duke. Even if he could have 
 speech with him, he should never be able to persuade him that 
 he had been sent in such a manner. He would be taken for 
 a madman. 
 
 "The Person" thereupon said that the access to his son was 
 known to be very easy ; and that few men waited long for him. 
 Then, in order to gain credit for the message, the ghost told his 
 old servant "two or three particulars which he charged him 
 never to mention to any person living, but to the Duke himself, 
 and he should no sooner hear them than he would believe all 
 the rest he should say." 
 
 The man could no longer doubt that he had really been 
 visited by a spirit, and he dared not disobey. He went up 
 to London, and told part of his strange tale to one of the Duke's 
 kinsmen, Sir Ralph Freeman. This gentleman was so impressed 
 by the evident honesty and gravity of his visitor that he gained 
 an appointment for him with Buckingham. It took place at 
 Lambeth bridge, early in the morning, before the Duke went 
 hunting with the King. Buckingham received the man cour- 
 teously, and, says Clarendon, " walked aside in conference near 
 an hour, none but his own servants being at that hour in that 
 place : and they and Sir Ralph at such a distance that they 
 could not hear a word, though the duke sometimes spake, and 
 with great commotion, which Sir Ralph the more easily observed 
 and perceived because he kept his eyes always fixed upon 
 the Duke ; having procured the audience upon somewhat he 
 knew there was of extraordinary. And the man told him 
 in his return over the water 'That when he mentioned those 
 particulars which were to gain him credit, the substance whereof 
 he said he durst not impart to him, the Duke's colour changed, 
 and he swore he could come to that knowledge only by the 
 devil, for that those particulars were only known to himself and 
 to one person more, who, he was sure, would never speak of it.' " 
 After this strange interview, the Duke went hunting with the 
 King, but he was observed to be very moody, and to take no 
 pleasure in the sport. Before it was over he left the field and 
 rode to his mother's lodgings in Whitehall, remaining shut up 
 
382 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 with the Countess for the space of two or three hours. "The 
 noise of their discourse," says Clarendon, "frequently reached 
 the ears of those who attended in the next rooms, and when the 
 Duke left her, his countenance appeared full of trouble, with 
 a mixture of anger ; a countenance that was never before 
 observed in him, in any encounter with her : towards her he 
 had ever a most profound reverence. And the Countess her- 
 self . . . was, at the Duke's leaving, found overwhelmed with 
 tears, and in the highest agony imaginable." 
 
 The Earl of Clarendon concludes this extraordinary narrative 
 by saying that "whatever there was of all this, it is a notorious 
 truth that when the news of the Duke's murder (which happened 
 a few months after) was brought to his mother, she seemed not 
 in any degree surprised, but received it as if she had foreseen it ; 
 nor did afterwards express such a degree of sorrow as was 
 expected from such a mother for the loss of such a son." 
 
 If Buckingham ever received a ghostly warning he either 
 disregarded it, or steeled himself in the fatalist's philosophy that 
 what must be must. A man who lives in continual danger is 
 generally proof against nervous fears. Yet it is probable that 
 although the Duke was inclined to discredit the idea of assassi- 
 nation, he had some foreboding that his life would not endure 
 long. In bidding farewell to Laud, before going to Portsmouth, 
 with the fleet bound for Rochelle, he begged him to put the 
 King in mind of his poor wife and children. " Some adventure," 
 he said, according to Sir Henry Wotton, " may kill me as well 
 as another man." There were others who were afraid that this 
 voyage would be fatal to him. On the very day on which death 
 came to him, his sister, the Countess of Denbigh, wrote him a 
 letter, and having "bedewed the paper with her tears," swooned 
 away at the thought of his peril. Buckingham's death had been 
 predicted to the very month by an extraordinary woman 
 named Lady Eleanor Davies, fifth daughter of George Audley, 
 Earl of Castlehaven, and wife of Sir John Davies. She had a 
 gift for prophecy, and was once put on her trial, by the Govern- 
 ment, for witchcraft. There is no doubt as to her foretelling 
 that the Duke would die in August, for the prophecy is mentioned 
 in a letter from Dr. Mead, written in June, before the event 
 happened, and there are many other contemporary witnesses. 
 It was one of those unlucky prophecies which are apt to fulfil 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S LAST VOYAGE 
 
 themselves by the power of suggestion. No doubt, also, the 
 general disturbance of the country, the mutinies and disorders 
 of the sailors and soldiers, the popular hatred against him, 
 created naturally a grave state of uneasiness in the minds of those 
 to whom he was dear, but those who believe in spiritual warn- 
 ings may see in these warnings, fears, and pyschological 
 emotions portents of a supernatural kind. According to the 
 Scottish historian Johnston, the Duke himself tossed uneasily 
 in his sleep on the night of the 22nd of August, after the riot in 
 Portsmouth town, and the awful scene at the gibbet, and in the 
 morning, when his Duchess, Kate, pleaded him to take greater 
 care of his person, he spoke irritably 'to her. She was, he 
 thought, over-anxious, and had not yet reconciled herself to 
 her husband's duty as a soldier. It is so difficult for a loving 
 wife to suffer the thought of perils endangering the life of the 
 one most dear to her, and of a long separation, with a daily 
 torture of apprehension and uncertain news. Poor Kate had 
 been worried almost to the grave during her husband's first 
 exile at Rochelle, and now, after a few months, during which 
 she had seen but little of him, he was again leaving her for the 
 danger of camp-life, in that island of diseases and death. Her 
 soul was perplexed by the sad riddle of life. Born and brought 
 up as a Catholic, and still in her heart, no doubt, cherishing that 
 faith which she had renounced for her husband's sake, she had 
 no enthusiasm for this expedition on behalf of the French 
 Protestants, and she knew that her husband was not inspired 
 by any religious convictions in this enterprise. So she could 
 not understand why the best man in the world, as he seemed 
 to her, in spite of his faults and his indifference to any settled 
 faith, should risk himself, and her own happiness, in such a false 
 cause. She wept for him and for herself, and Buckingham was 
 softened by this woman's weakness, and told her that he would 
 take her importunity as a sign of love. It is good to think that 
 this little scene between the husband and wife ended with 
 caresses and endearing words. They were the last that ever 
 passed between them. 
 
 The Duke came down at nine o'clock to make his toilet 
 before breakfast in a room communicating by a dark passage 
 with the central hall. The chamber where he was dress- 
 ing was full of company, of persons of quality, among 
 
384 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 whom was Monsieur De Soubise, brother of the Due De Rohan, 
 and other French gentlemen, and officers of the fleet and army. 
 There was great excitement among them, for news had just 
 been brought that Rochelle had been relieved, so that the 
 voyage of the English fleet would not be needed, or at least was 
 not so urgent. The Duke was much moved by this message, 
 and ordering his breakfast to be made speedily, said he would 
 make haste to acquaint the King with the good news, the Court 
 being then at Southwick, the home of Sir Daniel Norton, five 
 miles from Portsmouth. 
 
 But M. De Soubise and the French gentlemen did not give 
 any credit to the news, and believed it was simply a false 
 rumour sent by the enemy to delay the English expedition. 
 They were, therefore, in much trouble and perplexity, and 
 urged the Duke not to slacken the preparations for his voyage, 
 nor to risk the safety of Rochelle by delaying the fleet. " The 
 discourse," says Clarendon, "according to the natural custom 
 of that nation, and by the usual dialect of that language, was 
 held with that passion and vehemence, that the standers-by who 
 understood not French did believe that they were very angry, 
 and that they used the Duke very rudely." 
 
 Among those officers and gentlemen crowding the passage 
 of Captain Mason's house in the High Street, and straining 
 their ears to understand the meaning of this noisy conversation, 
 was Lieutenant Felton, a travel-stained man who had walked 
 most of the way from London, and was now standing at the 
 entrance of the passage, very quietly, and with a haggard 
 scowling face unnoticed by those about him, whose eyes were 
 on the Duke and his companions. 
 
 Presently Buckingham, having finished his dress, was told 
 that his breakfast was ready. He drew towards the door on his 
 way to the central hall, and the hangings were held aside for 
 him. Then in the passage he turned to speak to Sir Thomas 
 Fryer, a colonel in the army, and a short man, so that Bucking- 
 ham stooped to listen to a few whispered words in his ear. At 
 this time Lieutenant Felton saw the opportunity the which 
 he had been waiting. He saw that the moment had come for 
 that deed which had been no doubt enacted a thousand times in 
 his gloomy brain in the garret in London, and all the way to 
 Portsmouth. With his right hand he pulled his tenpenny knife 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S LAST VOYAGE S85 
 
 from its sheath, and, taking a stride towards the Duke, plunged 
 the blade with a swift and deadly stroke into his left breast. 
 Buckingham staggered, gasped out a cry of " The villain hath 
 killed me ! " and then convulsively plucked out the knife. The 
 blood gushed out, and Buckingham, after tottering for a step or 
 two, lurched heavily against a table, and then fell dead to the 
 ground.* 
 
 A scene of fearful confusion took place. The blow had been 
 so swiftly and suddenly struck, and there were so many people 
 about, that no one had seen the author of the deed. For a few 
 moments it was believed by some that the Duke had been 
 murdered by the French gentlemen, who had been talking so 
 excitedly. But somebody picked up a hat, lying upon the 
 ground near the door, and sewed inside it were words which 
 showed them that the hat belonged to the murderer. Clarendon 
 says that " the writing discovered nothing of the name," but we 
 know now that Felton had put his signature boldly to his two 
 texts. But at the cry that the hat was a clue to the assassin, 
 the crowd rushed off to find a hatless man. Felton had slipped 
 away to the kitchen, and being a stranger and without a hat, 
 he was quickly discovered. There were shouts of " A French- 
 man ! A Frenchman ! " and other people running up at the noise, 
 cried, " Which is he ? which is he ? Where is the villain ? 
 Where is the butcher ? " Confused by all this tumult, Felton 
 thought they were crying his own name. He drew his sword, 
 and the crowd fell back from him ; then he stepped calmly into 
 the hall, facing the crowd, and saying quite simply and quietly, 
 " I am the man, I am he." 
 
 The officers and gentlemen rushed at the assassin and would 
 have cut him to pieces with their swords. Felton seemed to 
 welcome the thought of a quick death rather than deliberate 
 justice, and opened his arms very calmly and cheerfully to their 
 weapons, but Lord Dorchester and a few others thrust them- 
 selves before him, and commanded their friends to let the man 
 be saved for the gallows. 
 
 In the meanwhile the extraordinary noise in the house had 
 startled the ladies upstairs, and Lady Anglesea, the Duke's 
 sister-in-law, had come out on to the gallery, from which the 
 bedrooms were entered, and looked down at the crowd in the 
 
 * Clarendon, Dorchester, etc. 
 2 C 
 
386 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 hall. Then the frightful sight of Buckingham's bleeding body 
 met her eyes, and running back she flung open the door of the 
 Duchess's chamber, and called to her. Kate Buckingham, who 
 only half an hour or so before had felt her husband's kisses 
 warm upon her cheek, rushed out in her night-dress with a great 
 cry of terror, to look down upon the lifeless body of the man 
 whom she had loved with a great passion, and a most faithful 
 love. " Ah, poor ladies ! " wrote Dudley Carleton, Lord 
 Dorchester, who was an eye-witness of this scene, " such was 
 their screechings, tears and distractions, that I never in my life 
 heard the like before, and hope never to hear the like again." 
 
 The mortal remains of poor George Villiers were carried into 
 an adjoining room, and there, while the gentlemen hurried out 
 to tell the news to the world, lay, in the loneliness of death, the 
 bleeding body of that man whose heart but a few minutes before 
 had been beating with all the strength of healthy manhood, and 
 with high hopes and great ambitions. That heart was still now, 
 and all those ambitions that had led George Villiers into many 
 rash deeds, many great follies, many passionate actions, were 
 futile in the face of eternity. With his handsome face, that had 
 first brought him his immense fortune and exalted rank, calm 
 and cold as stone ; with his body still clothed in that magni- 
 ficence which had been his pride, the first Duke of Buckingham 
 lay stiff and stark, while upstairs his poor wife wept her heart 
 out. He had had many enemies in life, but in death his friends 
 remembered the natural kindness of his heart, his generous 
 instincts, his boyish gaiety, his gallantry, his courtesy, and 
 charm of manner. The second voyage to Rochelle was never 
 to be made with Buckingham as Lord-Admiral. His spirit had 
 gone upon another voyage, across the dark and silent waters. 
 
 Six miles away was King Charles with his Court, still ignorant 
 of the awful news that his friend, upon whose adventures his 
 mind was busy, and whose career had been so bound up with 
 his own, had been struck down by swift death. A messenger 
 rode at a gallop to Southwick. " His Majesty," says Clarendon, 
 " was at the public prayers of the church, when Sir John Hippes- 
 ley came into the room with a troubled countenance, and, without 
 any pause in respect of the exercise they were performing, went 
 directly to the King and whispered in his ear what had fallen 
 but. His Majesty continued unmoved and without the least 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S LAST VOYAGE 387 
 
 change in his countenance till prayers were ended, when he 
 suddenly departed to his chamber and threw himself upon his 
 bed, lamenting with much passion, and with abundance of tears, 
 the loss he had of an excellent servant, and the horrid manner in 
 which he had been deprived of him ; and he continued in this 
 melancholic and discomposure of mind many days." 
 
 Apart from the poor duchess, Kate, there was no one in the 
 world who had more cause to mourn the death of Buckingham. 
 Since their boyish quarrels in the last reign, they had been as 
 close in affection as two brothers. Charles had made his father's 
 favourite his adviser and confidant. In the Spanish journey 
 they had gone upon an amorous adventure like two knight 
 errants. During the stay at Madrid, Buckingham had shared 
 secrets which his Prince could not reveal to any one else in the 
 world, had counselled him more wisely than Charles had acted, 
 and had cheered him in his discomfiture at home. In the first 
 days of his reign till now, Buckingham had been his first Minister 
 as well as his friend. All the Duke's actions had been done 
 with the King's full sanction and authority, and had carried out 
 his personal policy. When the Commons called Buckingham 
 the enemy of the people and the cause of all the kingdom's 
 miseries, when they had impeached him as a traitor to his King 
 and country, when the people had nourished hatred for him, and 
 written their songs and squibs in which they made him in league 
 with the Devil to destroy the nation, Charles had known that 
 Buckingham was accused of crimes which, if crimes, had been 
 committed by royal command. And when, through many 
 weary months, Buckingham suffered the hardships of an arduous 
 campaign, exiled from all comfort, in hourly peril, cheering the 
 soldiers in the trenches when his own heart was heavy, and 
 when, after all his patience and energy and courage, he suffered 
 failure and defeat, Charles knew and acknowledged that the 
 Duke had failed, not from any fault of his own, but because in 
 the deadly lethargy of the national spirit, it had been impossible 
 to send him the promised support. With Buckingham struck 
 from his side by the assassin's hand, Charles must indeed have 
 felt robbed, not only of his dearest friend, but of the chief 
 support of his Crown, and hjs most trusted counsellor. 
 Buckingham was the companion of his mind as well as of his 
 heart. Their political ideas had, as a rule, exactly coincided, or, 
 
388 THE FIRST DUKE OP BUCKINGHAM 
 
 if they differed, Buckingham was always ready to obey. Charles,, 
 before he was King, and afterwards, had put his right hand 
 upon the Duke's shoulder, as his most faithful friend and 
 servant, and now that he was gone he felt alone, with a settled 
 sadness upon his spirit, and very perplexed, not knowing what 
 man to turn to, knowing no one who could take the place of 
 " Steenie." 
 
 At Portsmouth John Felton was being questioned. To dis- 
 concert him and throw him off his guard, they told him that the 
 Duke was only grievously wounded, and not without hope of 
 recovery. But Felton smiled and said he knew well he had 
 given him a blow that had determined all those hopes. In 
 those days of spies and plots, it was suspected that he was the 
 agent of the French or some other enemy, and they asked him 
 " by whose instigation he had performed that horrid and wicked 
 act." Felton answered calmly that "they should not trouble 
 themselves in that inquiry ; that no man living had credit or 
 power enough in him to have engaged or disposed him to such 
 an action ; that he had never intrusted his purpose or resolution 
 to any man ; that it proceeded only from himself and the impul- 
 sion of his own conscience ; and that the motives thereunto 
 would appear if his hat were found, in which he had therefore 
 fixed them, because he believed it very probable that he might 
 perish in the attempt. He had confessed that he had come to 
 the town but the night before, and had kept his lodging that he 
 might not be seen or taken notice of; and that he had come 
 that morning to the Duke's lodging, where he had waited at the 
 door as if he held up the hanging ; and Sir Thomas Fryer 
 speaking at that time to the Duke, as hath been said, and being 
 of a much lower stature than the Duke, who a little inclined 
 towards him, he took the opportunity of giving the blow over 
 his shoulder." * 
 
 The news of the Duke's death caused an extraordinary feel- 
 ing of joy among the people, as though they had been rescued 
 from some evil monster. In the taverns of London men raised 
 their mugs and drank to Felton as a champion and hero. When 
 he was taken up to London to be imprisoned in the Tower 
 great multitudes waited for him on the roadsides and prayed 
 for him as though he were a saint on the way to martyrdom, 
 
 * Clarendon. 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S LAST VOYAGE 
 
 crying out " Lord comfort thee ! " and " The Lord be merciful 
 to thee ! " As he passed through Kingston-on-Thames, an old 
 woman gave him a salutation of, " Now, God bless thee, little 
 David," meaning that he had killed Goliath. Outside the 
 Tower a great crowd had gathered and gave him friendly greet- 
 ings as the gates closed upon him.* 
 
 In the Tower he was put into the same lodging where Sir 
 John Eliot had been, and was well treated — without any 
 rigour and with humanity enough, says Clarendon. It was 
 reported that his trial would be postponed until the 
 Parliament met, but some said, " Pray God he be not racked 
 and put to death before." There was some cause for this sus- 
 picion that he would be tortured, for Charles did actually ask 
 the judges whether he could be put to the rack, believing that 
 he had accomplices ; but the judges answered unanimously 
 in the negative.f At first Felton, impressed by the popular 
 ovation at his crime, manifested the air of a man who believed 
 himself justified before God as a martyr to the cause of 
 righteousness, but gradually in the silence of his prison his 
 sanity came back, and he showed deep contrition for his act. 
 At his trial before the King's Bench Bar, on November 27th, he 
 behaved " with great modesty and wonderful repentance ; being, 
 as he said, convinced in his conscience that he had done 
 wickedly." J He begged the judges that the hand which had 
 done the awful deed might be struck off before he was put to 
 death. This was, of course, refused. On the 29th of November 
 he was hanged at Tyburn, before a dense throng of men and 
 women, who still hailed him as a martyr in the cause of liberty, 
 though while the noose was about his neck he confessed loudly 
 that he was guilty of a great crime. 
 
 " Being come to the place of execution," writes Mr. Pory to 
 Mr. Mead, "he first gave God thanks for vouchsafing him so 
 long a time for repentance, and also for removing the fear of 
 death from him. He then magnified his Majesty's grace and 
 clemency, and prayed God to give him a long and happy reign, 
 and that his heart and the hearts of the parliament might be 
 knit together. He prayed also for the King of Bohemia and 
 
 * The Rev. Joseph Mead to Sir Martin Stuteville. 
 t Rushworth. 
 X Clarendon. 
 
390 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 the Queen, and last of all, our Queen. He extolled the Duchess 
 of Buckingham for being so noble as to forgive him that heinous 
 crime, and said he could have been content his body should 
 suffer exquisite torture to have given her satisfaction." 
 
 One cannot help thinking that John Felton was rather too 
 long-winded in his last oration, and descended into too many 
 details, for Mr. Pory tells us that "he asked forgiveness of 
 all the Duke's servants, even to the very scullion boy. He 
 entreated the people not to abuse the poor hangman because 
 he did his duty. In fact, those that stood by do report that 
 he died a most pious, penitent, and undaunted death, and after 
 he was cut down into the cart, he moved his lips and raised 
 himself a little upon one end ; whereupon some bade an old 
 woman that was in the cart with him (to lap him in his winding 
 sheet) to give him aqua vita, which, when she either could or 
 would not, they all curst her." His body was taken to Ports- 
 mouth to be hanged in chains in the sight of those among 
 whom he had committed the murder. 
 
 In spite of his prolonged prayers for pardon, even from the 
 Duke's "scullion boy," there were many people determined 
 not to be robbed of a hero, and in their hatred of poor Bucking- 
 ham they extolled his murderer. It was not only the common 
 people who behaved in this way, but men of good birth and 
 education. A master of arts of Oxford, and several times 
 public orator of the University, named Zouch Townley, was so 
 stirred by the assassination of the man whom he believed to 
 have been a tyrant that, before the execution, he wrote an ode 
 "to his confined friend, Mr. Jo. Felton," in which he paid 
 homage to him in verse which at the time was thought to have 
 Ben Jonson's ring : — 
 
 " Enjoy thy bondage, make thy prison know 
 Thou hast a liberty thou canst not owe 
 To those base punishments ; keep entire — 
 Nothing but guilt shackles the conscience. 
 I dare not attempt thy valiant blood to affray, 
 Enfeebling it with pity ; nor dare I pray 
 Thine act may mercy find, lest thy great story 
 Lose something of its miracle and glory. 
 I wish thy merits laboured cruelty — 
 Stout vengeance best befriends thy memory ; 
 For I would have posterity to hear, 
 He that can bravely do can bravely bear. 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S LAST VOYAGE 391 
 
 Tortures may seem great in a coward's eye, 
 It's no great thing to suffer, less to die. 
 
 » * * * * 
 
 Farewell ! For thy brave sake we shall not send 
 Henceforth commander's cronies to defend ; 
 Nor will it our just monarchs please 
 To keep an admiral to lose the seas. 
 Farewell ! undaunted stand, and joy to be 
 Of public sorrow the epitome. 
 Let the Duke's name solace and crown thy thrall — 
 All we for him. did suffer — thou for all ; 
 And I dare boldly write as thou darest die, 
 Stout Felton England's ransom he doth lie." 
 
 Having thus paid a poet's tribute to the assassin, Zouch 
 Townley wrote scornful lines for the epitaph on the murdered 
 Duke:— 
 
 " If idle travellers ask, ' Who lieth here ? ' 
 Let the Duke's tomb this for inscription bear : 
 Paint Calais and Rhe, make French and Spanish laugh, 
 Mix England's shame, and there's his epitaph." 
 
 It was well for Ben Jonson's safety, as well as for his reputa- 
 tion as a poet, that the real author of this wretched verse was 
 discovered. And it was lucky for Zouch Townley that he 
 slipped over safely to the Hague before the hue and cry of the 
 land had hunted him down. 
 
 Two other Oxford gentlemen let their passion against the 
 dead Duke lead them into dangerous flights of fancy. Alex- 
 ander Gill, a Bachelor of Divinity, and usher of St. Paul's 
 School, was tried in the Star-chamber, with his friend, Mr. 
 Grimkin, for saying in Trinity College cellar, at Oxford, that 
 " The King was fitter to stand in a Cheapside shop with an 
 apron before him, and say ' What lack ye ? ' than to govern a 
 kingdom ; for saying that the Duke was gone down to Hell to 
 meet King James there ; and for drinking a health to Felton, 
 saying he was sorry Felton had deprived him of the honour of 
 doing that brave act." * 
 
 The King's remarkable self-restraint when the news of 
 Buckingham's death was first brought to him made many 
 people believe that he was actually relieved at having been rid 
 of a servant who was so out of favour with the nation, and 
 against whose person the Parliament was so much prejudiced, to 
 the damage of the King's own interests. 
 
 * Mead to Stuteville. 
 
THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 " Upon this observation," says Lord Clarendon, " persons of 
 all conditions took great license in speaking of the person of the 
 duke and dissecting all his infirmities, believing they could not 
 thereby incur any displeasure of the King. In which they took 
 very ill measures ; for from that time almost to the time of his 
 own death, the King admitted very few into any degree of trust, 
 who had ever discovered themselves to be enemies to the duke, or 
 against whom he had ever manifested a notable prejudice. And 
 sure never any prince manifested more a most lively regret for 
 the loss of a servant than his Majesty did for this great man, in 
 his constant favour and kindness to his wife and children, in a 
 wonderful solicitous care for the payment of his debts (which, it 
 is very true, were contracted for his service ; though in such a 
 manner that there remained no evidence of it, nor was any of 
 the Duke's officers intrusted with the knowledge of it, nor was 
 there any record of it, but in his Majesty's own gracious 
 memory),* and in all offices of grace towards his servants." 
 
 King Charles cherished the memory of the Duke as though 
 it were a kind of sacred duty to advance his friends and followers 
 to carry on the personal enmities of Buckingham. Mead heard 
 from Mr. Pory, at Court, that " if any accuse him in anything 
 whereof his Majesty might take notice, he imputes wholly to 
 himself; if in other matters, he answers, the party durst not 
 say so if the Duke were alive. ' Besides,' he saith, ' Let not the 
 Duke's enemies seek to catch at any of his offices, for they will 
 find themselves deceived.' And whereas Sir Ralph Clare and 
 Sir William Croftes, ever since they were turned out of their 
 places in the Privy Chamber for opposing the Duke in the 
 Second Parliament of King Charles, have lain within his 
 Majesty's house at St. James's, now since the Duke's death 
 his Majesty hath banished them thence also. His Majesty, 
 since his death, hath been used to call him his martyr, and 
 to say the world was much mistaken in him. For whereas it 
 was commonly thought he ruled his Majesty, it was clear other- 
 wise, having been his Majesty's most faithful and obedient 
 servant in all things ; as his Majesty would make hereafter 
 sensibly appear to the world." 
 
 Buckingham's funeral took place on September n. Charles 
 desired it to be solemnized with the fullest pomp, and the 
 * In one of Mead's letters it is said the amount of these debts was £66,ooo. 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S LAST VOYAGE 
 
 Duke's father-in-law, the Earl of Rutland, who was then Lord 
 Treasurer, persuaded the King that the expense might be spared 
 to go to the payment of his debts. It is probable also that 
 they feared the public clamour which might arise if in the 
 distressed state of the country and the poverty of the Treasury 
 a great sum of money should be spent on doing honour to the 
 mortal remains of the man who in life had been accused so 
 violently by Parliament and people of extravagance ruinous to 
 the nation. The excitement caused by his murder, and the 
 general expressions of joy at his removal, made his friends fear 
 that even a public funeral might be made the occasion of some 
 horrible outrage in the streets upon his dead body, and for that 
 reason the funeral cortige did not set out to Westminster Abbey 
 from Wallingford House, in Whitehall, where the body had lain 
 in state, until ten o'clock in the evening. It was asserted at 
 the time that even then the hundred mourners, and the six 
 bearers, who were all to form the procession that paid the last 
 honours to the great Duke, attended upon an empty coffin, and 
 the corpse itself had been buried the day before "as if it had 
 been doubted the people, in their madness, might have surprised 
 it." * As a further precaution, the train bands of London kept 
 guard on both sides of the way from Wallingford House to 
 Westminster, shouldering their pikes and muskets, instead of 
 trailing them, as usual in mourning. So to the dull thunder of 
 the drums passed the lifeless clay of George Villiers along that 
 way where he had so often ridden magnificently with a brilliant 
 cavalcade, amidst a crowd eager to gaze at his handsome face, 
 and, at one time, loud in their homage to his greatness. 
 
 He was buried among kings, as he had lived among them, in 
 Henry VII.'s chapel, and Charles earnestly desired to build a 
 great monument to him. But again he was thwarted in his 
 wish to do honour to his friend. " I would be loth " said the 
 Earl of Rutland, the Lord Treasurer, "to tell your Majesty 
 what the world would say, not only here but all Christendom 
 over, if you should erect a monument for the Duke before you 
 set up one for King James, your father." There was too much 
 truth in these words for Charles to ignore them, and it was left 
 for Kate Villiers to put up a tomb above her husband's dust. 
 Gardiner has permitted himself a moment's relaxation from the 
 
 * Mead to Stuteville. 
 
394 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 plain severity of his great history to indulge in a little sarcastic 
 humour about this tomb. 
 
 " With an unconscious irony," he says, " the piled marble 
 points the moral of the story of him who sleeps below. Unlike 
 the figure of the Duke of Lennox, on the opposite side of the 
 chapel, the form of Buckingham lies open to the eye of day 
 without the superincumbent shadow of a canopy to shroud him 
 from the crowd whose observation in life he used to court. The 
 report of his actions is committed not to some ' star-ypointing 
 pyramid ' firmly and immovably based upon the firm earth, but 
 to a sprightly Fame, who, with bursting cheeks, proclaims with 
 a trumpet the great deeds of the Duke. On either side of her 
 are two slender obelisks, which would evidently succumb to the 
 first gust of wind that blew, and which rest upon a foundation 
 of skulls. ' Dust thou art, and to dust thou shalt return ' is the 
 sentence written upon the works of him who has built his house 
 upon the sand." 
 
 This sarcasm is not without truth, but in spite of the vanity 
 and failure of his great political adventures, Buckingham's 
 personal character appeals to the affection of posterity rather 
 than to its satire or severity. And one at least of his con- 
 temporaries, who had the supreme gift of weighing all men in 
 the nice balance of a calm and impartial judgment, has seen 
 much good in him, and found extenuating circumstances for 
 his faults. 
 
 " This great man," writes Lord Clarendon, " was a person of 
 a noble nature and generous disposition, and of such other 
 endowments, as made him very capable of being a great favourite 
 to a great King. He understood the arts and artifices of a 
 court, and all the learning that is professed„there, exactly well. 
 By long practice in business, under a master that discovered 
 excellently, and surely knew all things wonderfully, and took 
 much delight in indoctrinating his young unexperienced 
 favourite, who, he knew, would be always looked upon as the 
 workmanship of his own hands, he had obtained a quick con- 
 ception and apprehension of business, and had the habit of 
 speaking very gracefully and pertinently. He was of a most 
 flowing courtesy and affability to all men who made any 
 address to him ; and so desirous to oblige them that he did not 
 enough consider the value of the obligation, or the merit of the 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S LAST VOYAGE 395 
 
 person he chose to oblige, from which much of his misfortune 
 resulted. He was of a courage not to be daunted, which was 
 manifested in all his actions, and his contests with particular 
 persons of the greatest reputation ; and especially in his whole 
 demeanour at the Isle of Rh£, both at the landing and upon the 
 retreat ; in both which no man was more fearless or more ready 
 to expose himself to the brightest dangers. His kindness and 
 affection to his friends was so vehement that it was as so many 
 marriages for better or worse, and so many leagues, offensive 
 and defensive ; as if he thought himself obliged to love all his 
 friends, and to make war upon all they were angry with, let the 
 cause be what it would. And it cannot be denied that he was 
 an enemy in the same excess, and prosecuted those he looked 
 upon as his enemies with the utmost rigour and animosity, and 
 was not easily induced to a reconciliation. And yet there were 
 some examples of his receding in that particular. And in the 
 highest passion, he was so far from stooping to any dissimula- 
 tion, whereby his displeasure might be concealed and covered 
 till he had attained his revenge (the low method of courts), that 
 he never endeavoured to do any man an ill office before he first 
 told him what he was to expect from him, and reproached him 
 with the injuries he had done, with so much generosity, that the 
 person found it in his power to receive further satisfaction, in 
 the way he would choose for himself. . . . 
 
 "His single misfortune was (which indeed was productive 
 of many greater) that he never made a noble and worthy friendship 
 with a man so near his equal, that he would frankly advise him 
 for his honour and true interest against the current, or rather 
 torrent, of his impetuous passions ; which was partly the vice of 
 the time, when the Court was not replenished with great choice 
 of excellent men ; and partly the vice of the persons who were 
 most worthy to be applied to, and looked upon his youth, and 
 his obscurity, as obligations upon him to gain their friendships 
 by extraordinary application. Then his ascent was so quick, 
 that it seemed rather a flight than a growth ; and he was such 
 a darling of fortune, that he was at the top before he was seen 
 at the bottom, for the gradation of his titles was the effect, not 
 cause, of his first promotion, and, as if he had been born a 
 favourite, he was supreme the first month he came to Court ; 
 and it was want of confidence not of credit, that he had not all 
 
396 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 at first which he obtained afterwards ; never meeting with the 
 least obstruction, till he was as great as could be: so that he 
 wanted dependants before he thought he could want coadjutors. 
 Nor was he very fortunate in the election of these dependants, 
 very few of his servants having been over-qualified enough to 
 assist or advise him, and were intent only upon growing rich 
 under him. 
 
 " Let the fault or misfortune be what or whence it will, it may 
 very reasonably be believed that, if he had been blessed with 
 one single friend, who had been qualified with wisdom and 
 integrity, that great person would have committed as few 
 faults, and done as transcendent worthy actions, as any man 
 who stirred in such a sphere in that age in Europe. For he 
 was of an excellent nature, and of a capacity very capable of 
 advice and counsel. He was in his nature just and candid, 
 liberal, generous, and bountiful ; nor was it ever known that 
 the temptation of money swayed him to do an unjust or an 
 unkind thing. And though he left a very great inheritance 
 to his heirs, considering the vast fortune he inherited by his 
 wife, the sole daughter and heir of Francis, Earl of Rutland, 
 he owed no part of it to his own industry or solicitation, but 
 to the impatient humour of two Kings his masters, who would 
 make his fortune equal to his titles, and the one as much above 
 other men, as the other was. And he considered it no other- 
 wise than as theirs, and left it at his death engaged for the 
 Crown, almost to the value of it, as is touched upon before. 
 
 " If he had an immoderate ambition, with which he was 
 charged, and it is a weed (if it be a weed) apt to grow in the best 
 soils, it does not appear that it was in his nature, or that he 
 brought it with him to the Court, but rather found it there, and 
 was a garment necessary for that air. Nor was it more in his 
 power to be without promotion and titles and wealth, than for 
 a healthy man to sit in the sun in the brightest dog-days and 
 remain without any warmth. He needed no ambition, who 
 was so seated in the hearts of two such masters." 
 
 To such a noble judgment, critical and well-poised and as 
 free from adulation as from malice, there is little to be added. 
 
 Looking back upon Buckingham's career after nearly three 
 centuries since his passionate heart was stilled by a swift knife- 
 thrust, we may be more or less severe than Lord Clarendon 
 
BUCKINGHAM'S LAST VOYAGE 897 
 
 who knew him in his living splendour, and it is, perhaps, un- 
 necessary that we should painfully endeavour to give a final 
 verdict upon his character, weighing this evidence and that, 
 finding him guilty of one thing and innocent of another, and 
 exactly measuring the right proportions of praise and blame 
 due to him in strict equity. All that matters very little now, 
 to Buckingham or to us. In three centuries the effects of his 
 follies have been cancelled by other men's foolishness, or 
 wisdom, and his vices and virtues have no longer any influence 
 upon the lives of others. It has fortunately gone out of fashion 
 to grow passionate over the characters of history, to turn 
 sinners into plaster saints, or to drag corpses out of the grave 
 in order to dissect them ghoulishly. Nor need the biographer 
 now, as was the custom formerly, hold up his victim or his hero, 
 to point portentous morals, profound in their revelation of the 
 author's self-righteousness. We are not so much concerned 
 with the measurement of a man's soul according to the foot- 
 rule of our contemporary moral codes, as with the facts of his 
 life as they may be truthfully known, and with the heart of the 
 man as it was self-revealed, the interest of getting close to one 
 who made history and of living as it were in his life, being 
 the reward of one's research and reading. In this life of 
 Buckingham, the interest of the story should not flag. 
 
 From his first appearance at the Court, his career was 
 dazzling and full of great adventures. No character in romance 
 is more attractive to the imagination. The age in which he 
 lived, with its decadent luxury of the Court, with its surface 
 splendour, that covered much brutality and misery ; with its 
 superstitions breeding dark and horrid vice such as was revealed 
 in the trial of Somerset's wife and of Lady Purbeck, with its 
 passion, and afterglow of an ancient chivalry, allowing of such 
 adventures as the Spanish journey, and Buckingham's romantic 
 episode at the French Court; with its opportunities for indi- 
 vidualism and originality of character bringing forward many 
 adventurers of fortune; with its awakening of the spirit of 
 democracy to struggle for liberty against the old prerogatives 
 of rank and wealth ; all this places the figure of Buckingham in 
 the centre of a great and moving drama. Yet seldom is he 
 obscured by what goes on around him. He takes the centre of 
 the stage, a figure of extraordinary brilliance and magnificence, 
 
398 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 debonair and very daring, himself the greatest adventurer 
 among adventurers, a gambler losing every move in the game of 
 world-politics, yet winning everything at home with all the 
 Court cards in his hands, defying all private and public enemies, 
 and rising from nothingness to supreme power in the kingdom. 
 That is a greater wonder than England has often seen, and 
 suffices to keep one's interest chained to his career. But one is 
 not only dazzled by Buckingham's public career. One is able 
 to see him more intimately in his private life, to see him closely 
 as a lover, as a husband, as a father, and as a friend. His letters 
 reveal him with most vivid, intimate touches, so that he breathes 
 out of them, and in the whole range of English letters there are 
 not more touching, nor more sweet womanly letters than those 
 written by Duchess Kate to her beloved lord. So we have the 
 portrait of him in every phase of his life, as bright and distinct 
 as a living image. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Abbott, Archbishop of Canterbury, 26, 
 
 3°, 31 
 Anne, Queen, 2, 28, 29, 73 
 Anne of Austria, 143, 228 seq. 
 Archie Armstrong, 36, 170 
 Arundel, Earl of, 273, 357 
 Ashton, Mistress, 29 
 
 B 
 
 Bacon, Francis — 
 
 Attorney-General, 12 
 
 Issues writ for arrest of Somerset, 39 
 
 Conducts Somerset's trial, 43, 44 
 
 Congratulates Villiers as favourite, 52 
 
 Keeper of the Great Seal, 54 
 
 Quarrels with Coke and Winwood, 6 1 
 
 Offends Buckingham, 62 
 
 Lord Chancellor, 65 
 
 Alliance with Buckingham, 69 seq. 
 
 Epigram to Mandeville, 106 
 
 Advice on patents, 107 
 
 Downfall, 112 seq. 
 
 Appeals to Buckingham, 116 seq. 
 Bagg, Sir Joseph, 350, 351 
 Bassompierre, 228 seq. 
 Baynard's Castle, 3 
 Bedford, Countess, 2 
 Beecher, Sir William, 315, 320, 321, 
 
 326, 335 
 Bohemia, troubles of, 126 seq. 
 Brett, Sir Alexander, 314 
 Bristol, Earl of, 50, 1 29, 150 seq., 195 
 
 seq., 261 seq., 357 
 Buckingham, Countess of, 33, 56, 57, 
 
 59, 60, 75, 76, 98, 99, 217, 219, 288, 
 
 310, 322 
 Buckingham, Duchess of, 86 seq., 137, 
 
 175 seq., 307, 308, 309, 323. 347, 379, 
 
 383, 386 
 Buckingham, Duke of. See Villiers 
 Burgh, Sir John, 314, 319, 325 
 
 Carlisle, Earl of, 18, 19, 51, 52, 85, 146, 
 
 207 seq., 230, 290, 291, 295 
 Cecil, Sir Edward, 128, 242, 243, 332 
 Charles, Prince of Wales, 75, 115, 126, 
 
 127, 133, 139 seq., 150 seq., 168 seq., 
 
 188 seq., 194, 209 
 Charles I., King, 222 seq., 233, 236, 
 
 241, 248, 249, 255, 257, 262 seq., 271, 
 
 279, 285, 292, 299, 320 seq., 330, 337 
 
 "?-, 352, 353. 354, 356 ■*?•, 373 se 1; 
 
 386, 391 
 Chevreuse, Due de, 227 
 Coke, Clem, 253 
 Coke, Sir Edward, 38, 39, 42, 43, 59, 
 
 60, 66, 358, 369 
 Coke, Sir John, 239, 240, 252, 360, 361 
 Compton, Lady. See Buckingham, 
 
 Countess of 
 Compton, Sir Thomas, 6, 179 
 Conway, Lord, 184, 321, 324, 348, 349 
 Cottington, Sir Francis, 1 35, 157, 169, 
 
 177, 178, 222, 223 
 Courtney, Sir William, 315, 349 
 Coventry, Sir Thomas, 106, 246, 252, 
 
 256, 257 
 Craig, Dr., 218, 219 
 Cranfield, Lionel, 81, 82, 112, 115, 122, 
 
 200, 201, 202 
 Crosby, Sir Pierce, 343 
 
 D 
 
 D'Angouleme, Due, 325 
 D'Artagnan, 8 
 Davies, Lady Eleanor, 382 
 Denbigh, Earl of, 75, 356, 375 
 Devereux, Robert. See Earl of Essex 
 D'Ewes, Symonds, I, 49, 249 
 Digby, Sir John. See Bristol, Earl of 
 Digges, Sir Dudley, 264, 265, 266, 271, 
 
 272 
 Dunbar, Earl of, 18 
 
400 
 
 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Effiat, 210 
 
 Eglisham, Dr., 218, 220 
 Eliot, Sir John, 236, 239, 252, 254, 264, 
 267 sig., 271, 272, 273, 358, 361, 364 
 Elizabeth, Queen, 9 
 Elways, Sir Jervis, 37, 42 
 Essex, Earl of, 22, 25, 242, 243 
 Essex, Lady Frances Howard, 22, 23, 
 
 25. 39. 43 
 Exeter, Earl of, and Lady, 80 
 
 Feast, the Friends', 75 
 
 Felton, John, 376, 377, 378, 384, 385, 
 
 388 seq. 
 Fenton, Viscount, 18 
 Fielding, Sir William. See Denbigh, 
 
 Earl of 
 Finnett, Sir John, 20 
 Franklin, Dr., 40, 41 
 Frederic. See Palatine, Elector 
 Fryer, Sir Thomas, 384 
 
 Gerbier, Balthazar, 185, 231, 283 seq. 
 Ghost story, Clarendon's, 382 seq. 
 Glanville, 236, 264 
 Gondomar, Count, 71, 73, 100, 127 seq., 
 
 151 
 Goodby House, 7 
 
 Goodman, Bishop, 35, 49, 55, 137, 220 
 Goring, Sir George, 24, 51 
 Graham, Sir John, 28 
 
 H 
 
 Hamilton, Marquis of, 158, 159 
 
 Hampden, John, 303 
 
 Harrington, Sir John, 20 
 
 Hatton, Lady, 59, 65, 75 
 
 Hay, James. See Carlisle, Earl of 
 
 Henrietta Maria, 143, 199, 227, 232 
 
 seq., 249 seq., 285 seq., 293 
 Henry, Prince, 3, 22, 23 
 Herbert, Edward, of Cherbury, 15, 102, 
 144 seq., 208 
 
 George, 16 
 
 Henry, 16 
 
 Philip. See Montgomery, Earl of 
 
 William. See Pembroke, Earl of 
 Hippersley, Sir John, 386 
 Holland, Earl of, 15, 19, 199, 207, 230, 
 
 232, 246, 250, 295, 331, 333, 334. 336, 
 
 340. 345. 35' 
 
 Howard, Charles. See Suffolk, Earl of 
 Howard, Frances. See Essex, Lady 
 Howard, Henry. See Northampton, 
 
 Earl of 
 Howell's Letters, 32, 164 
 Hyde, Nicholas, 300 
 
 I 
 
 Infanta Maria of Spain, 153 seq., 171 
 Iniosa, Marquis of, 165, 199, 204, 211, 
 213 
 
 J 
 
 James I., King, 2, 9 seq., 19, 20, 25, 26 
 
 seq., 31 seq., 42, 48 seq. 
 Jonson, Ben, 11, 21 
 
 Lake, Sir Thomas, 2, 79, 80 
 
 Lambe, Dr., 370, 371 
 
 Laud, Archbishop, 246 
 
 Lorraine, Due de, 316 
 
 Louis XIII., 8, 143, 227, 244 seq. 
 
 M 
 
 Mainwaring, Sir Henry, 335 
 Mandeville, Viscount. See Montagu, Sir 
 
 Henry 
 Manners, Katharine. See Buckingham, 
 
 Duchess of 
 Mansfeld, Ernst von, 214, 215, 224 
 Martin's, St., Fort, 313, 314, 317, 327 
 Mason, Captain, 384 
 Massimi, 155, 167 
 Mathew, Sir Tobie, 182, 184, 185 
 May, Sir Humphry, 34, 222, 239, 369 
 Mervyn, Sir Henry, 349, 351 
 Millisent, Sir John, 20 
 Mompesson, Sir Giles, 105 seq. 
 Monson, Sir William, 38, 42, 43 
 Monson put up as favourite, 74, 75 
 Montagu, Sir Henry, 106 
 Montgomery, Earl of, 3, 14 
 Morgan, Sir Charles, 304 
 Motteville, Madame de, 229 seq,, 298 
 
 N 
 
 New Hall, 93 
 
 Northampton, Earl o£ 16, 17 
 Nottingham, Earl of, 49, 81, 82 
 
INDEX 
 
 401 
 
 o 
 
 Olivares, Count de, 131, 153 seq. 
 Overbury, Sir Thomas, 21, 24, 25, 26, 
 37 
 
 Palatine, Elector, 126 seq., 214 «(/, 
 Pembroke, William, Earl of, 2, 3, 12 
 
 «0., 49, 115, 280 
 Pennington, Captain, 240, 302, 303 
 Petition of Right, 362, 363, 366 
 Peyton, Sir John, 20 
 Phelips, 236 
 
 Philip IV. of Spain, 131, 151 seq. 
 Pictures, Buckingham's, 283 seq. 
 Porter, Endymion, 140, 141, 346 
 Pree, La, 314 
 Purbeck, Viscount. See Villiers, Sir 
 
 John 
 Pym, 236, 264, 303 
 
 R 
 
 Raleigh, Walter, 9, 70 seq. 
 
 Remonstrance of the Commons, 278 
 
 Rhe, Buckingham in Isle of, 313-345 
 
 Rich, Henry. See Holland, Earl of 
 
 Rich, Penelope, 19 
 
 Richelieu, 209, 227 seq. 
 
 Rochelle, 251, 313-345 
 
 Rohan, Due de, 241, 316, 325, 331 
 
 Roos, Lady, 79, 80 
 
 Roxburghe, Earl of, 17 
 
 Rutland, Earl of, 85 seq., 169, 184, 189, 
 
 191 
 Rutland, Lady, 21 
 
 Schomberg, Marshal, 341, 342 
 
 Selden, 264, 358, 369 
 
 Shakespeare, William, 11 
 
 Sherland, 264 
 
 Shrewsbury, Earl of, 37 
 
 Sidney, Philip, 19 
 
 Soissons, Comte de, 316, 325, 384 
 
 Somerset, Earl of, 2, 4, 20, 21, 22, 26, 
 
 27. 33. 34, 37. 39. 44 "9- 
 Somerset, Lady. See Essex, Lady 
 Soubise, Marquis de, 315, 320, 329 
 Strafford. See Wentworth, Sir Thomas 
 Stuart, Ludovic, Duke of Richmond, 130 
 Suffolk, Earl of, 49, 76 seq., 114 
 
 Tonnage and Poundage, 373 
 Townley, Zouch, 390 
 
 2 D 
 
 Treves, Sir Sackville, 192 
 Turner, Dr., 253 
 Turner, Mrs., 40, 41 
 
 Vic, Henry de, 319, 324, 328, 329 
 Villiers, George — 
 
 Comes to Court, I 
 
 Attempted assassination of, 4 
 
 Family of, 5 
 
 Early travels in France, 7, 8 
 
 Made King's cup-bearer, 28 
 
 Knighted, 31 
 
 Becomes Favourite, and receives many 
 honours, 48 seq. 
 
 Created Earl of Buckingham, 52 
 
 Income, 55 
 
 Brings his family to town, 56 
 
 Quarrels with Bacon, 62 
 
 Reconciliation, 66 seq. 
 
 Entertains King and Prince Charles, 
 
 75 
 Letter to Earl of Suffolk, 76 
 Lord High Admiral, 82 
 Morality, 85 
 Seeks hand of Katharine Manners, 86 
 
 seq. 
 Marriage, 90 
 Family life, 91 seq. 
 Settles at New Hall, 92 
 Letters to King James, 92 seq. 
 Defends patent laws, 104 seq. 
 Changes his policy, 109 
 Quarrel with Yelverton, 1 10 
 Defends Bacon, 112 seq. 
 Negotiations for York House, 119 seq 
 Arranges journey to Spain, 129 seq. 
 Adventures on journey, 138 seq. 
 Letters to King James, 143 seq. 
 Arrival in Spain, 150 seq,. 
 State entry into Madrid, 156 
 Writes for jewels, 161 
 Arrival of Papal Dispensation, 164 
 Quarrel with Olivares, 166 
 Quarrel with Papal nuncio, 167 
 Adventure in the Infanta's garden, 171 
 Wild conduct at Madrid, 172 
 Scandal about the Countess Olivares, 
 
 173 
 News from home, 175 seq. 
 Abandonment of Spanish marriage, 
 
 188 
 Journey home, 190 
 Arrival in London, 193 
 Quarrel with Lord Bristol, 195 
 Scene with Privy Council, 200 
 Narrative of Spanish marriage journey, 
 
 202 seq. 
 Proposes French marriage, 206 
 
402 
 
 THE FIRST DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 
 
 Villiers, George — continued. 
 
 Negotiations with Richelieu, 209 seq. 
 
 Spanish plot, 211 
 
 Raises army for foreign service, 214 
 
 seq. 
 Quarrel with Sir Francis Cottington, 
 
 223 
 Fits out a fleet, 225 seq. 
 Wardrobe for the French marriage, 
 
 226 
 Journey to Paris, 227 
 Love affair with French queen, 228 
 
 seq. 
 Banquet at York House, 233 
 Strained relations with Queen Henri- 
 etta, 235 seq. 
 Troubles in Parliament, 238 seq. 
 Secret negotiations with France, 241 
 Mission to the Hague, 246 
 Coronation anecdote, 249 
 Correspondence relating to Rochelle, 
 
 251 
 Accused by Dr. Turner and Sir John 
 
 Eliot, 253, 254 
 Defence to both Houses, 257 seq. 
 Charged by Bristol, 262 
 Impeachment, 265 seq. 
 Chancellor of Cambridge University, 
 
 273 
 Answer to impeachment, 274 
 Magnificence at York House, 280 
 Evicts French attendants of the Queen, 
 
 285 
 Receives Bassompierre, 289 seq. 
 Banquet at York House, 295 
 Sailors break into York House, 300 
 Negotiates secretly with Spain, 304 
 Masque at York House, 307 
 Sails for the Isle of RW, 311 
 Campaign at Rhe, 313-345 
 Returns to England, 346 
 Narrative of campaign, 348 
 Pleads for a new Parliament! 353 
 
 Villiers, George — continued. 
 Defends King's autocracy, 362 
 Denounced in Parliament, 365 
 Remonstrance to the King, 368, 370, 
 
 373 
 
 Popular libels, 372 
 
 Prepares second expedition to Roch- 
 elle, 375 seq. 
 
 Prophecies of death, 380 seq. 
 
 Assassination, 385 
 
 Funeral, 392 
 
 Tomb, 393 
 Villiers, Christopher, 56, 104, 105, 109, 
 
 222 
 Villiers, Edward, 76, 104, 105, 109 
 Villiers, Sir John, 59, 66 
 
 W 
 
 Wentworth, Sir Thomas, 236, 303, 357, 
 
 358, 359. 362, 369 
 Whirlpool in the Thames, 281 
 Williams, Lord Keeper, 87, 108, 212, 
 
 213, 217, 246, 357 
 Wilmot, Lord, 331, 334 
 Wimbledon, Viscount. See Cecil, Sir 
 
 Edward 
 Winwood, Secretary, 24, 37, 49, 70, 74 
 Wotton, Sir Henry, 2, 1 1 
 
 Yelverton, Sir Henry, 54, 63, 64, 106, 
 
 no, 112 
 York House, 119 seq., 233, 280, 282, 295, 
 
 307 
 
 Zouche, Sir Edward, 20 
 
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 WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 
 LONDON AND BKCCLES.