CHAPTER V.
BUCKINGHAM’S EMBASSY TO PARIS--HE DESPATCHES BALTHAZAR GERBIER TO SELECT AND PURCHASE PICTURES--LETTER OF THE PAINTER TO HIM--THE MAGNIFICENCE OF THE FRENCH COURT--BUCKINGHAM’S APPEARANCE AT THE PARISIAN COURT--HIS ASPIRING TO THE FAVOUR OF ANNE OF AUSTRIA--THE MANNER IN WHICH HIS HOMAGE WAS RECEIVED BY ANNE, AS STATED BY MADAME DE MOTTEVILLE--THE FREEDOM OF MANNERS, TERMED BY ANNE "L’HONNÊTE GALANTERIE," PERMITTED BY THE QUEEN--THE DAZZLING APPEARANCE OF BUCKINGHAM--ANECDOTE OF THE JEALOUSY OF THE FRENCH--POINT OF ETIQUETTE BETWEEN BUCKINGHAM AND THE CARDINAL RICHELIEU--BUCKINGHAM ATTENDS HENRIETTA MARIA TO THE COAST--ANNE OF AUSTRIA ACCOMPANIES HER SISTER-IN-LAW TO AMIENS--INCIDENT THERE, IN WHICH BUCKINGHAM BETRAYED HIS MAD PASSION--HE RECEIVES A REBUFF FROM THE QUEEN--HIS LOVE-SUIT NOT CHECKED BY HER REPROOF--HE SHEDS TEARS ON PARTING FROM ANNE--JOURNEYS ON TO BOULOGNE AND RETURNS TO AMIENS--HIS INTERVIEW THERE WITH ANNE--HE THEN PURSUES HIS JOURNEY TO ENGLAND--LETTERS, AND AFFECTING CONDUCT OF HIS WIFE--THE MEETING OF CHARLES AND HENRIETTA MARIA--BUCKINGHAM RETAINS HIS INFLUENCE OVER CHARLES I.
CHAPTER V.
Previous to his own departure, Buckingham had despatched Balthazar Gerbier, the painter, to Paris, in order to select and purchase pictures, and other articles, to decorate some of his own stately dwellings, not one of which seems to have been, at that time, completed. The emissary was dazzled by the sight of foreign splendours, and sent a lively account of them to the Duke. “My lord,” he wrote, “do you beg of Madame (the Duchess of Buckingham) that she will be pleased to furnish York House; for this Monsieur Chevreuse, and all the folks here, are so fine, and so magnificent and curious in their houses, that your Excellency will be much pleased. I beg of your Excellency to see the apartments of this Bishop of Paris, and you will see in what nice order the pictures are arranged, and how rich everything is. And, for the love of Paul Veronese, be pleased to dress the walls of the old gallery--poor, blank walls, they will die of cold this winter! Your Excellency will see also here, as at the house of the Duke de Chevreuse, the best paintings are before the chimney, and approve what I have always said, that they always put the principal piece over the chimney. For all their bravery, there is still magnificence in gold. But your Excellency will see a great mistake they make in the construction of their chimneys. These are all made of wood, which is very improper so near the fire. They are, also, too deep; all the heat remains within. Moreover, there are paintings of the French masters; but we have the pearl of the Fabians.”[[214]]
Madame de Motteville extols the splendour and gaiety of the court; and although the portraiture of the galaxy of beauties whom she describes belongs to a later period, one may readily conceive that attractions were not wanting in that sphere graced by Anne of Austria and Henrietta Maria.
The impression made by Buckingham on the French was favourable. “He had,” observes Madame de Motteville, “a fine figure. His face was very handsome; his mind and character were free from littleness. He was magnificent in his deportment and liberal; and, as the favourite of a great prince, he had funds at his disposal, and all the crown jewels of England to employ in his own adornment.” “It is not to be wondered at,” she continues, “that with so many attractions, he should have dared to cherish presumptuous thoughts--to have harboured desires at once so lofty, so dangerous, and so reprehensible; and he had the good fortune to persuade those who were aware of his wishes that they were not proffered impertinently;” “yet,” adds the confidante, almost reluctantly, “one may venture to suppose that his vows were received in the same degree as that in which the gods suffer the homage of mortals.”[[215]]
The object of these aspiring and criminal hopes was, it appears, the young Queen of France. Nor is there reason to conclude that the same indifference was manifested by Anne to Buckingham as had been shown by her to her former admirers. In after times, when the perilous illusion had for ever passed away, Anne, according to Madame de Motteville, admitted that in that season of her youth she had not perceived that the delightful and sprightly conversation, known to her by the term of l’honnête galanterie, could possibly be censured, especially when no secret understanding was couched beneath the lively converse; nor did the thoughtless Queen attach to it any greater possibility of blame than she should do to those ladies of her native Spanish Court, who, being forbidden to talk to men, except in the presence of the King and Queen of Spain, were accustomed to boast of their conquests amongst each other, and to consider them rather as enhancing, than detracting from, their reputation.[[216]] The Duchess de Chevreuse, Anne confessed, had been wholly occupied with gallantries and diversions, and the Queen, led by her advice and example, could not, in spite of her modesty and principle, avoid becoming interested in an expression of passion which seemed to her far more flattering to her self-love than dangerous to her virtue. In these terms did Anne, after the lapse of years, refer to the transient but intoxicating adulation paid to her by Buckingham.
Possibly Anne was dazzled by the lofty grace of her new votary, contrasted as it was to some advantage with the homely-featured Philip Herbert, Earl of Montgomery, one of the noblemen who had attended Buckingham to Paris. The mission could, as Sir Henry Wotton observes, “want no ornaments or bravery to adorn it.” He relates an anecdote of the Duke, who, dancing one day in a suit all gorgeously overspread with diamonds, lost one of his most valuable jewels, which, strange to say, was the next day recovered, although it had been lost in a “court full of pages.” This restitution Sir Henry regards as but another proof of the good fortune which everywhere followed Buckingham.[[217]] It was, perhaps, on his court suit, which was valued at 80,000l.[[218]]
It was not to be supposed that Anne would escape the voice of scandal, or that the attentions of one upon whom all eyes were fixed should remain unobserved. One little occurrence, which became the subject of general animadversion, took place after all the Court festivities were at an end, and when Anne and the Duke were on the eve of separation. It speaks, however, plainly of previous passages of gallantry on the one hand, and indulgence on the other.
A week of feasting and rejoicing was over, and Buckingham prepared to conduct the young Queen of England to her foreign home, on the second of June. It appears that, notwithstanding the great goodwill entertained towards the Duke by Monsieur de Chevreuse, he showed some degree of jealousy on account of his unwonted display. Buckingham, previous to his departure, ordered some diamonds to be set in rings, with the view of bestowing them on several of the courtiers; but he was warned of the effect which this would produce by his faithful agent, Balthazar Gerbier. “I have been informed,” writes the painter, "that at the Court where you are, they have got intelligence of the diamonds your excellency is causing to be set in rings, and so they are trying to guess what can be your reason. The greater part think it is in order to make presents, which they are resolved not to receive. Your Excellency’s perfect sagacity needs no interpreter for understanding their policy, which is only that somebody has been such an exceeding busybody as to blow into the ear of the Duc de Chevreuse that if your Excellency were to be remarked above others for liberality, it would be greatly to his detriment." Under this apprehension, the secretary of De Chevreuse importuned Gerbier, who seems to have filled the capacity of House Steward to the Duke, as well as his other employment, to have an account drawn up of what was given to the household servants of De Chevreuse, and also of the other presents. The virtue of the French Court seems to have been aroused by the expected gifts, which were regarded as an affront, and it was intimated that if offered they would not be received. This delicacy of conduct was naturally contrasted with the rapacity of the Duke, who had, it seems, accepted presents in France amounting in value to eighty thousand pounds, as he himself stated in a letter to the King.[[219]]
Having thus offended the pride of the Parisian courtiers by his overweening prodigality, Buckingham set forth to commit an act of imprudence still more obvious and far more indefensible. He did not quit Paris, however, without having both given and received an offence from even the courtly Richelieu, who, having addressed to him a letter, directed to “Le Duc de Buckingham,” instead of to “Monseigneur le Duc de Buckingham,” received one in reply inscribed to “Monsieur le Cardinal de Richelieu.”[[220]] Thus quitting Paris as he had done Madrid, in bad odour with those who had eagerly welcomed him to their kingdom, Buckingham attended his young and royal charge towards the coast.
Orders had been sent by the French King that his sister should be everywhere welcomed with honours as signal as if he were himself present; and to show her still more respect, Anne of Austria accompanied the young Queen as far as Amiens.
It was here that, whilst walking in the garden of the house where she was lodged, a memorable interview between Anne and Buckingham took place. She was, indeed, surrounded by her usual suite of attendants, when the enamoured and imprudent Duke sought and found her. Putangue, the equerry of the Queen of France, perceiving, as Buckingham approached, that he was anxious to speak to his royal mistress alone, fell back for a short time, thinking that delicacy forbade him to listen to what was uttered by the Duke. Having by chance, according to Anne’s subsequent statement, turned into a winding alley, the unguarded Queen and her lover found themselves alone. In a few moments a cry was heard by the listening attendants in the garden; the equerry hastened to his mistress, who blamed him exceedingly for having quitted her. Anne afterwards explained this occurrence, which naturally excited much discussion, by relating that, alarmed at finding herself alone with her avowed admirer, she was still more agitated by the expressions of passionate attachment which Buckingham addressed to her. She knew that she could not listen to the importunity of an ardent passion without participating morally in its guilt. She acted therefore, as she thought, and as her apologist, Madame de Motteville, conceived, honestly and sagaciously in preferring the preservation of her own self-respect to the fear of being unjustly blamed. Thus reflecting, she had no apprehension that her exclamation of surprise and terror would bear a bad construction even to her consort, who evidently regarded her with distrust.
Having proffered some reason for his return, the Duke even left the future Queen Consort of his royal master at Boulogne, and hastened to the queen-mother, Marie de Medicis, at Amiens. He even went so far as to pretend that he was commissioned to enter into some new negotiation; whether he succeeded in blinding her or not is not stated; but, after conversing with her for some time, he presented himself to Anne of Austria; that princess had been apprized of Buckingham’s journey, by her confidante, the Duchess de Chevreuse, who accompanied the Queen of England. Anne received him, after the fashion of her adopted country, in bed, and without her customary state; nor did she express the slightest surprise at his appearance; but her astonishment was considerable when she saw the Duke fall on his knees by her bedside, and kiss the coverlids with expressions so agitated, so emphatic, that she could no longer, as she afterwards confessed, “avoid perceiving the earnestness of his passion.” She avowed to Madame de Motteville that she was overcome with surprise, not unmingled with resentment, for she comprehended, perhaps too late for her own reputation, that a real insult was conveyed under this proffered idolatry. She remembered that she was the Queen of France, and a long and angry silence marked her displeasure. At this critical moment, the Countess de Lannoi, at that time her principal lady of the chamber, and who, in that capacity, was placed at the head of the bed, came forward to the queen’s aid. The countess was a grave, respected, and aged personage, whose very look might well strike terror into the presumptuous suitor. She addressed herself to the Duke reprovingly, telling him that such conduct was inconsistent with the customs permitted in the French Court, and bidding him arise. She spoke, however, to one who was of late little habituated to control, and she could make no impression. Buckingham replied that he was not a Frenchman, and therefore under no obligation to observe the laws of France. He spoke calmly, and then again addressing the queen, he broke out into expressions of the utmost tenderness. Anne replied in terms expressive of her anger at his boldness; but whilst her language was reproachful, her manner appears to have been destitute of the indignation natural to the occasion. She commanded him, however, to rise from his knees, and quit the room; and he then complied.
The next day, notwithstanding this audacity, Buckingham was permitted to see the Queen again, but in the presence of the assembled Court. It is probable that Anne wished what occurred not to transpire, and that this audience might be one of policy. But the precaution, if such it was, did not avail to save Anne from the most injurious suspicions. Buckingham, after taking leave, proceeded to England, bearing in his mind a resolution to return to France at the earliest occasion. Anne and the queen-mother, after some little delay, repaired to Fontainebleau to rejoin the King. Soon afterwards, Louis was informed of all that had occurred. The circumstances were even aggravated to the disadvantage of the unhappy young queen. Several of her attendants were discharged. Putangue, her equerry, was banished; her physician and others shared the same fate. One of Anne’s Spanish ladies, Donna Estefania, had the courage to express her disgust at this severity. “I think,” she said, addressing Le Père Sequirent, the King’s confessor, “that so much malignity visited upon this lady is not a good sign; it does not look well.”[[221]]
Buckingham, meantime, journeyed towards England, his heart full of the hope of returning at some future day to behold the object of his mad passion. Yet he had every motive of tenderness and consideration towards his duchess, whose fondest hopes were constantly, during absence, fixed upon her faithless husband. Balthazar Gerbier, who, from his situation in the Duke’s household, had ample opportunities of witnessing her devotion to the Duke, terms her, when writing to Buckingham, during his sojourn in Spain, “your incomparable Penelope, who constantly, in this sea of trouble, has demonstrated the greatness of her constancy, comforting herself with the hope of seeing her sun return above this horizon, beautiful and shining as it set.”[[222]] Her anxiety during his former embassy had been such as to injure her health, or, as she touchingly expressed it, “merely melancholy was the cause of her sickness.” Nor was that sorrow unmingled with doubt of her husband’s constancy. Buckingham, with his natural candour and fearlessness, perhaps, too, wanting the moral sense of shame for such transgressions, appears, from a passage in one of the Duchess’s letters, to have confessed to her some of his infidelities during his Spanish journey, and to have expressed great contrition for them. Fears had, at that time, been entertained of his wife’s health; and consumption was the disease apprehended. The Duke was on that occasion stung to the heart by the dread of losing his “poor Kate,” as she termed herself. Reflecting on his reckless gallantries with shame, he appears to have considered the illness of his wife as a judgment upon him, and intimated to her that should she die, he should think it too hard a blow, even for one so sinful as himself.[[223]] The reply made to him by his gentle wife ought to have ensured everlasting gratitude and constancy, were it in the nature of man to be bound by such ties to woman. “And where you say,” writes this devoted woman, “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, and God has laid a great affliction on me by this grievous absence; and I trust God will send me life, and Moll too, that you shall enjoy us both; for I am sure,” she adds, "God will bless us both, for your sake; and I cannot express the infinite affection I bear you; but, for God’s sake, believe me, that there was never woman loved man as I do you."
The Duchess had at that time testified her delight at her husband’s quitting that “wicked Madrid,” as she called it. She little thought how detrimental to her married happiness a residence of twelve days only in the no less vitiated air of Paris was to prove.
On quitting Amiens, Buckingham returned to Boulogne, where he met his Duchess, who had been sent by Charles to kiss the young queen’s hand, and to desire that she would take her own time of coming over, “with most conveniency to her own person.”[[224]] On the twenty-second of June (N.S.) Henrietta embarked, and twenty-four hours afterwards arrived at Dover.
Charles had long been anxiously expecting the Queen. On the last day of May he had posted down to Canterbury, there to wait for her, attended by a large company of lords and ladies, “who tarried there to their great charge.”[[225]] The King was obliged to console them, and to prolong their attendance with messages daily from Dover, by which step, a contemporary writes, “he persuaded them to patience.” The young Queen was detained, as it was alleged, by her mother’s illness; “but,” adds the correspondent just quoted, “if all be true that is reported, they can make no great haste, being to march with a little army of 4000 at least, whereof the Duc de Chevreuse and his followers make up three hundred, and sixty that belong to his kitchen.”
On the fourth of June, the Earl of Northampton, who had gone into France, it was said, in a “mad mood,” had arrived at Dover at nine o’clock in the evening. They found the King “on the leads” (of the Castle, probably), having spent two very cold hours there, anxiously awaiting their arrival. It appears that Charles then wished to cross to Boulogne; but it was objected to, as being a precedent that would lower the kings of England, and dangers might accrue upon his placing himself in a foreign state.[[226]]
When, in the presence of the whole court and the flower of the nobility, they met for the first time, everyone except the royal couple retired, and Charles and his bride held half-an-hour’s conversation alone. Henrietta is said to have taken the earliest opportunity to entreat the King “that he would not be angry with her for her faults of ignorance, before he had first instructed her to eschew them, for that she, being young, and coming into a strange country, both by her years and ignorance of the customs of the nation, might commit many errors.” And she requested that the King would, in such cases, apply to use no third person as a mediator, but himself inform her as to what she had done amiss. “The King,” adds the same authority, “thanked her for it, desiring her to use him even as she had desired him to use her, which she willingly promised.”[[227]]
The plague was then raging to a fearful extent in the metropolis; and it was afterwards, by those who witnessed the sad termination of this reign, interpreted as an evil omen, as it began thus, although the previous reign had commenced with a similar national calamity; whereas the sway of James had been remarkable for peace and prosperity. “These two plagues,” remarks the historian L’Estrange, “that of the father, this of the son, were natives both of one parish, Whitechapel, yea, under the same roof, and issued forth on the same day of the month, such correspondence was there in their entry.”[[228]] There were not wanting those, however, who regarded this grievous visitation, the excess of which common sense would attribute to narrow streets and lanes, “where air and sweetness were the only strangers,” to a judgment on the young King’s alliance with Papacy and France.[[229]] It acted as a check upon present rejoicings, and, although great preparations had been made to receive the royal pair, most of the procession was omitted on account of the pestilence, no fewer than twenty-three parishes being infected; and the plague having increased fearfully during the “extremest cold weather that had ever been known,” what, it was observed, was to be looked for when the heat came, and the fruits were ripe?[[230]]
Under these unpromising auspices did Henrietta Maria take up her abode in Somerset House, then styled Denmark House, where her chapel and convent for Capuchin Friars were established, the execution of the laws against Roman Catholics having been previously suspended by a warrant from the King.[[231]]
Those who prognosticated uneasiness to Charles, and detriment to the country, were not long kept in suspense as to the fulfilment of their prophecy, for more uncongenial minds than those of Charles and his royal bride were never destined to meet; nor did they long adhere to the wise rule proposed, of allowing no third party to reconcile differences.
Buckingham still maintained his exalted position. The circumstances in which he was placed were such as had never occurred in this country before. “With King Charles,” as Sir Anthony Weldon observes, "did also rise his father’s favourite, and in much more glory and lustre than in his father’s time, as if he were no less an inheritor of his son’s favour than the son of the father’s crown."[[232]] This pre-eminence was regarded by the Puritan party as a grievous evil. James, they suspected rather than knew, was somewhat weary of his favourite’s insolence; but, in Charles’s time, “he reigned like an impetuous storm, bearing down all before him that stood in his way, and would not yield to him, nor comply with him.”[[233]] Such was the vulgar opinion; whilst the submission of Charles was considered to show a want of dignity and heroism, especially when the affronts passed upon him by Buckingham, in the King’s youth, were remembered.
There were others who took a different view of the subject; and the warm affection manifested by Charles to the Duke, surviving, as it did, the grave, has been justly commended. “When once,” observes the historian Lilly, "he (Charles the First) really affected, he was ever a perfect friend; witness his continuance of affection unto all Buckingham’s friends after his death, yea, until his own decay of fortune."[[234]]
Raised, as he was, to the highest pinnacle of human greatness in his native land, there were some humiliating circumstances which seriously affected the domestic happiness of Buckingham. Of these, the chief was the disgrace of his brother, Lord Purbeck, and the infelicity of that marriage which had been accomplished at so much expense of integrity. In February, 1624-25, it had been deemed necessary to institute proceedings against Lady Purbeck and Sir Robert Howard upon the ground of adultery and sorcery, and James I., though scarcely able to sign, had set his hand to the warrant.
The King, nevertheless, did this act unwillingly; and he had even previously dissuaded Buckingham from seeking a commitment, as he said the matter ought to be conducted by “justice and not favour.” Upon receiving this advice, the Duke wrote to Sir Randal Crewe, Lord Chief Justice, requesting him to communicate on this point with Innocent Lanier, a man much trusted by Lord Purbeck. That unhappy nobleman was then residing with the Duke, who seemed anxious to retain him, fearing that otherwise “Sir Robert and Lady Purbeck might, by their crafty insinuations, draw from him speeches to their advantage.”[[235]]
This prosecution was carried on with considerable bitterness of spirit. Upon the first steps taken in the affair, the Duke of Buckingham was sent for to London; and the summons despatched contained this assurance:--"I find them" (the solicitor and attorney-general) “resolved to deal roundly in this business, as your Grace desires.” The advice given by these two crown lawyers was to bring the case before the High Commission Court, which could sit without delay in the vacation, and when the crime had been proved there, the divorce could be obtained by ordinary law. They thought it unadvisable to send these prisoners to prison, “a step unusual for persons of their rank,” but “advised that they be confined in the houses of aldermen, where they would be more strictly restrained than in prison.” They were then examining witnesses.
Buckingham, in answer to this letter, after thanking the lawyers for their counsel, declared himself satisfied with it. “They were,” he said, “to do their utmost to discover the truth, but his family being nearly linked with that of Sir Howard, he wished no undue severity in the prosecution. He entreated the King to let the law take its course, and not to shew any favour in the business.”[[236]] It was immediately, nevertheless, resolved to incarcerate Sir Robert Howard, even without a hearing, and he was forthwith despatched to the Fleet Prison. His partner in guilt, although at first dismayed by the reception of a letter from the Lord Chief Justice, summoned to her aid the dauntless assurance which she inherited from her mother, Lady Hatton, and observed that she “was resolved to prove a new lodging and new keepers.” Her nurse, and the child who was the supposed offspring of her infamous connection, were left in the custody of persons appointed, and remained in Denmark House. Eventually, Sir Robert, and Lady Purbeck, with her son, were consigned to the charge of two Aldermen, Barkham and Freeman, “to be close kept.”[[237]] Such was the fear entertained of incurring Buckingham’s displeasure, that bail was withheld until his mighty will was ascertained. Notwithstanding that the commissioners appointed to examine into this singular case declared that “they saw no fruit in keeping the delinquents in prison,” and hinted that their incarceration being “fruitless,” their bailment might give the world satisfaction,[[238]] Buckingham, stimulated, probably, by the desire of emancipating his unfortunate brother from his union with a woman of abandoned character, appears to have lent himself to accusations by which the offence of the ill-fated Lady Purbeck should assume a criminal character.
In the endeavour to establish the fact of adultery with Sir Robert Howard, there appears to have been some failure. The suspicions were “strong and violent,” as the legal functionaries declared, against Sir Robert Howard, but no “express confession from parties, nor testimony of witnesses,” was obtained by which the fact was substantiated. With regard to the allegations concerning witchcraft, the most extraordinary statements were adduced. This young lady of rank had, it was affirmed, "administered powders and potions that did intoxicate her husband’s brain, and practised somewhat of that kind upon the Duke of Buckingham."[[239]] To this accusation, the insanity which is said to have darkened the Earl of Purbeck’s career, and the frequent reports of the unfriendly, that Buckingham was “mad,” gave a semblance of probability sufficient in those days of superstition. But those who were judges in the affair happily were more enlightened than many of their contemporaries. In the first place, the chief witness, one Lambe, described as a “notorious old rascal,” had been himself condemned the previous summer for a heinous offence; and arraigned a year or two previously for practising witchcraft on “my Lord Kingston” at Worcester.
“I see not,” writes a contemporary, “what the fellow can gain by this confession, but to be hanged the sooner.”[[240]] Nevertheless, the information was too acceptable to the powers that then overawed society, not to meet with its reward. It was proved, indeed, that Lady Purbeck, after the fashion of her day, contemplated the power of witchcraft as one means of blinding or infuriating her husband. The example of the infamous Lady Somerset had not died away in the memory of one who seems to have resembled her in some points--in her hatred of the husband to whom she was assigned for mercenary ends--in her mad passion for another man, and in the dark agents to whom she resorted for aid, and by whom she was betrayed. Lady Purbeck often visited Lambe; “and,” wrote the Commissioners to Buckingham, “we verily think with evil intention to your brother.” Whether Sir Robert Howard accompanied her or not in these furtive visitations does not appear. Upon reviewing the scanty and unsatisfactory evidence, it was concluded by the attorney and solicitor-general, that the “use to be made of this part of the business would be rather to aggravate and make odious the other part of the offence, than to proceed upon it as a direct crime of itself.” Nothing, they acknowledged, had yet appeared, that could give “them cause to think the matter to be capital against the delinquents;” and no further witnesses were forthcoming.
In the midst of these proceedings, it is curious to observe the retribution which, in the course of worldly events, forces itself upon our notice. Lady Hatton, obliged to apply for counsel to her despised lord, to whose masterly judgment she was compelled, in her emergency, to resort, was a spectacle to divert, and even to instruct society. “Would you think,” writes Mr. Chamberlain, "that Lady Hatton’s stomach could stoop so low as to seek the Lord Coke, at Stoke, for his counsel and assistance in this affair?"
Well might Lady Hatton tremble for the result to this daughter whom she had sacrificed to her worldly view; for a spirit of persecution now manifested itself more and more clearly. Before the High Commission, the frail being whose fate was thus sealed at her very entrance into life acquitted herself, as a contemporary informs us, “reasonably well hitherto,” but he adds, “ne Hercules quidem coutra tot et tantos.” By all her demeanour was allowed to be “modest and prudent, and without reflection on other parties.” The witnesses whom she adduced were, however, not only silenced, but punished. One Bembige, a servant of the Archbishop of Canterbury, was committed for speaking in her behalf, and for stating how severely she was used by the adverse proctors. Those gentlemen complaining of these remarks, Bembige was sent out of court; obtaining from Lady Purbeck the distinction of “being one of her martyrs.”[[241]] The cause was eventually referred to the Ecclesiastical Court, wherein the Earl of Anglesea was the nominal prosecutor. Sir Robert Howard, not answering to the citation served upon him, was publicly excommunicated at Paul’s Cross. He claimed, however, his privilege as a “parliament man,” and it was conceded to him.
Lady Purbeck, meantime, remained under the custody of Alderman Barkham; no friends came forward to stand bail for her; neither Lady Hatton nor her father supplied her with money. She sent to Buckingham for means to fee her council;[[242]] nor does the aid appear to have been refused; neither can any blame attach to the Duke for his endeavours to free a brother who was now incapable of acting for himself,--as appears fully from Lord Anglesea, Christopher Villiers being the prosecutor--from a woman who, whatever may have been the extenuation of her faults, was living audaciously in a state of infamy. Neither can we wonder at his afterwards requesting Prince Charles to insist on his leaving the Court, where she had set so fearful an example.
Lady Purbeck was driven away, however, for another reason; although a divorce was not obtained, she was sentenced by the High Commission to stand in the Savoy church in a white sheet. She fled, in the disguise of a page, into the country; and in 1634 was again domiciled in the house of her father, who at least had human sympathies, in which his wife had proved herself utterly wanting. Coke, in his old age, received and pardoned the much humiliated daughter. “She continued,” says Lord Campbell, “to watch piously over him till his death.”[[243]] Nor could the task have been otherwise than consolatory. An accident was the proximate cause of the breaking up of that wonderful frame that had never known rest. Coke had, in his own mind, deserved well of the world; he was wont to give thanks that he had never given his body to physic, nor his heart to cruelty, nor his hand to corruption.[[244]] When his friends sent him three doctors to benefit his health, he told them he had never taken physic since he was born, and would not now begin; that he had now upon him “a disease[“a disease] which all the drugs of Asia, nor the gold of Africa, nor the doctors of Europe could not cure, old age.” Notwithstanding Coke’s great practice, he was at one time in debt to the extent of 60,000l., owing, it was said, to his sons. In his will he left injunctions that he should be buried without pomp in Littleshall church, and a monument be erected for him there; and that his books might be preserved for his posterity.[[245]]
In his own immediate family, Buckingham enjoyed such happiness as the fulfilment of every earthly wish could bestow. He was now the father of two children; Lady Mary Villiers, who, if we may accredit the representations of a fond mother, was full of intelligence and promise. The letters written during the absence of her husband, by the Duchess, abound with such anecdotes of her then only child, as are only important as they mark a mutual tie, and show confidence in the affection of him to whom those epistles were addressed--to one whom she believed to be all constancy and attachment--and to whom such little traits of her daughter could alone be imparted by a mother.
“Moll,” she writes, “is very well, and is a-writing to make you merry; she is bound to you for your sending her a token.” “Mr. Clarke will tell you who she is like; she is so lively and full of play that she will make you very good sport when you come home. I hope you have received her picture, though you have sent me no word whether you have or no.”[[246]] This picture was painted by Balthazar Gerbier; but, not being completed in time, the artist was obliged to substitute one which had been completed three years previously; “for the little lady,” writes Gerbier, in allusion to this substitution, “she has been painted in great haste; the hands, which crave a blessing from your excellency, are merely outlined.”[[247]] The “Lady Mary” was still an infant when the Duke returned from Spain; but the remembrance of her father, which had been impressed upon her childish thoughts, is exemplified in the following passage from a letter of her grandfather, the Earl of Rutland.[[248]] "Your wife, your sister, Mr. Porter, and myself were at supper at York House, when news came Dick Graeme[[249]] 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.’"
This prattling child was now growing into what King James entitled “a fair maid;” and a son, George, afterwards celebrated for his wit and profligacy, had been added to the many blessings showered upon Buckingham by Providence. His wife, who had, during his absence, kept his picture, “as her sweet saint, always within sight of her bed,” was now happy in the presence of one whom she seems to have loved with all the ardour of a first affection. Even the infidelities of her husband, now beginning to be generally known, appear to have left her love unchanged. She knew well the temptations that beset him. “Every one tells me,” she writes at one time, “how happy I am in a husband;” “that you will not look at a woman, and yet how they woo you.” When undeceived, the Duchess had the greatness of mind to make allowances for this flattered child of fortune; she knew that if any man were to be excused, it was he who, in foreign courts, had encountered the snares to which his disposition rendered him too easy a prey. The delinquency, as we have seen, nearly broke her heart; but she forgave and received the delinquent. She appears to have ever retained a conviction that her husband’s heart was true to her, whatever his errors may have been. “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.”[[250]]
Notwithstanding his domestic blessings, his fame and power, Buckingham had his disquiets. Amongst these, the chief was pecuniary embarrassments. The favourite, whose rapacity has been the theme of historians, was harassed by difficulties which must have arisen partly from his great extravagance, partly from the countless demands made upon the resources of those in power.
Charles the First seems to have been no less solicitous than his father had been to enrich his beloved Villiers. In July, 1624, he granted to him, in conjunction with Sir George Carew, a commission for making saltpetre and gunpowder; and, at the same time, he bestowed upon Sir Edward Villiers an annuity of a thousand per annum,[[251]] probably in order to relieve Buckingham of the charge of assisting his brother. These favours were followed by another, which proved a source of much expense to the Duke--that of York House, which, with other messuages in St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, was, on the fourteenth of July, 1624, granted to Buckingham.[[252]] Immense sums had also been presented to Buckingham when ambassador to France; he wrote to the King, during his sojourn in Paris, that he had then already received gifts nearly to the value of eighty thousand pounds.[[253]] Yet, still the lavish expenditure of Buckingham was inadequately supplied. This was a grievous source of vexation to one whose unbounded love of display was gracefully connected with a passion for the arts, and with an exquisite perception of all that was excellent in painting and grand in sculpture.
Another cause of irritation, and consequent ill-health, was the incessant exertion incident to his station and employments. Never did any minister conduct himself with greater courtesy to those who waited upon him than Buckingham, to whom vulgar report assigned great arrogance of deportment, and whose haughty bearing has passed almost into a proverb. His attention to his minutest duties as Lord High Admiral, his deportment to his officers when he commanded at Rochelle, will be hereafter insisted upon. Lord Clarendon speaks of his “sweet attractive manner;” of his “art of drawing or flowing unto him of the best instruments of experience and knowledge, to seek what might be for the public, or his own proper use;”[[254]] yet, in spite of this admirable patience, in spite of that habitual good nature, which made him a “fair spoken gentleman, not prone and eager to detract openly from any man,”[[255]] Buckingham was harassed almost to insanity by the hourly ingress of importunate suitors, or of clamorous complainants. Even the visits of the friendly oppress us, when the brain is in a state of excitement; and, accordingly, we read without surprize that he was obliged occasionally to retire altogether from the court, retreating, most frequently, to Newhall, his favourite seat, “to avoid importunity of visits that would give him no rest.”[rest.”] It had even, at one time, been given out by the Roman Catholics, who were incensed against him, by the failure of the Spanish embassy, that he was “crazed in his brain;” but “I have learned,” writes Mr. Chamberlain, “by them that know, that there was no such matter, but that the suspicion grew by reason of his often letting blood; only they confess he hath a spent body and not like to hold out long, if he do not tend his health very diligently.”[[256]]
Shortly after his return from France, the Duke’s affairs appear to have become so greatly involved as to oblige him to retire for a time, from York House, to the seclusion of Burleigh-on-the-Hill. The following letter from his Duchess is addressed to Mrs. Olivia Porter, her niece, and the wife of Endymion Porter, that trusty servant to whom Buckingham had assigned the charge of bringing over his jewels and plate from Spain.[[257]] Mrs. Olivia Porter appears to have been a cherished companion, as well as kinswoman, of the Duchess of Buckingham’s. The letter is given in its original state, with regard to orthography; it is dated, “Burghley, 18th July, 1625.”[1625.”]
"Dere Cusen,
"Doctor Nure will tell you how I am. I have sent the doctor’s leter to him. I am in good health, I thank God, and I hope in the end I shall be as well as ever I was. I pray, pray for me. Remember me to your husband and sonne, and I do not doubt but what we shall be merry again in York House. Fairfill is now sould, I thank God, and we shall, by living here a while, redeme our selfs out of debt, I hope in Jesus. Farewell, swett cusen,
“Your most constant friend,
“K. Buckingham.
“My Co: (cousin) remembers his services to you.”
Buckingham appears thus to have taken the most effectual means to recover his serenity--retirement and economy; but the great duties of his station would not suffer him long to rest, either at Newhall or at the still more remote retreat of Burleigh. There, indeed, he was not permitted to hide himself until after he had assisted at the solemnity of the declaration of the King’s marriage, which was held in the Banqueting House at Whitehall in the following order.[[258]] After it was concluded, the King conducted the Queen to her presence chamber, where she dined. The King returned to the banqueting chamber, where he dined with the three French ambassadors, the Duc de Chevreuse, Villeach, and the Marquis de Fite. At the second course the heralds came, and proclaimed the King’s titles, craved a largesse, and afterwards went to the Queen’s side, and did the same. The Queen went to the Banqueting House afterwards, and the evening was spent in dancing. On the following day the Duke of Buckingham dined with the Duc de Chevreuse at Nonsuch, and supped that evening at York House, giving there one of those sumptuous entertainments which must have added so much to his pecuniary difficulties. For the ambassadors were received at that noble dwelling with “such magnificence and plenty, that the like,” writes a contemporary, "hath not been seen in these parts. One rare dish came by mere chance: a sturgeon of full five feet long, that afternoon, not far from the place, leaping in a gentleman’s boat, was served in at supper."[[259]]
During all this time, the pestilence was raging with fearful results; yet the people could not find in their hearts to leave London when the brave doings in celebration of the Queen’s arrival went on. It was observed that “in all these shews and feastings, there hath been such excessive bravery on all sides, as bred rather a surfeit than delights in them that saw it, and it were more fit and would better become us to compare and dispute with such pompous kind of people in iron and steel, than in gold and riches, wherein we come not near them.”
In addition to this insulting remark, one even still more disparaging to the strangers was publicly thrown out. The accession even of the high-bred Frenchwomen was considered to add little to the grace of the courtly revels at York House or elsewhere. Her retinue appears to have inspired neither admiration nor respect.
“The Queen hath brought, they say, such a poor, pitiful sort of women, that there is not one worth the looking after, saving herself and the Duchess of Chevreuse, who, though she be fair, paints foully. Among her priests you would little look for M. Sausy, that went an ambassador to Constantinople when we were at Venice, and is now become a padre del oratorio.”[[260]]
The public heard with disgust that two hundred pounds a day were allowed for the maintenance of the Duc and Duchesse de Chevreuse, in Denmark House, “for victuals and comforts.”[[261]] Buckingham, meantime, passed the remainder of the year 1625 at Hampton Court, his duchess staying at Burgleigh, where her father, the Earl of Rutland, remained to solace her retirement, for we find him excusing himself from attendance at Court on that plea.[[262]] Buckingham experienced considerable inconvenience from the absence and illness of the Earl of Purbeck, who, of all his brothers, seems to have enjoyed the most of his confidence; referring to him all suitors who were obliged, to adopt the quaint phrase of the time, to “come in at that door.”[[263]]