[61] “It does some credit to the taste at least of the English Court at that period,” observes Croker, “that Bassompierre, himself a man of distinguished taste in decoration and furniture (he nearly ruined himself by fitting up that celebrated house at Chaillot, which his gaoler Richelieu used to borrow), and who had seen all the courts in Europe, should consider this as the finest and best fitted house he had ever seen.”
[62] William Cecil, second Earl of Salisbury, son of Sir Robert Cecil, the first earl, and grandson of the great Lord Burleigh.
[63] Philip Herbert, Earl of Montgomery, afterwards fourth Earl of Pembroke (1584-1650), Lord Chamberlain, second son of Henry, second Earl of Pembroke, by his celebrated wife, Mary Sidney, sister of Sir Philip Sidney. It was to him and his brother William, third Earl of Pembroke, that Heminge and Corleton dedicated the first folio of Shakespeare as “to the most noted and incomparable pair of brothers, who having prosequted these treffles [the immortal plays] and their authour living with so much favour, would use a like indulgence towards them which they have done unto their parent.” Herbert was a generous patron of Massinger and Vandyck as well as of Shakespeare, but, in other respects, a far from estimable person, though much of the abuse heaped upon him by contemporary writers is no doubt due to his desertion of the King’s cause during the Great Rebellion. The charges that he was quarrelsome, dissolute, and wanting in physical courage would seem, however, to be only too well founded. His devotion to the sport of cock-fighting is recorded in the old lines:—
“The Herberts every Cockpitt Day
Doe carry away
The gold and glory of the day.”
[64] He was at one time the owner of the famous Sancy diamond, which afterwards figured amongst the crown jewels of France, and later amongst those of Russia.
[65] The King’s fear lest his consort “might commit some extravagance and weep in the sight of everyone” was, after all, well justified for, after the audience, Bassompierre writes to d’Herbault: “The Queen would have come near to weeping in this great assembly, if Madame de la Trémouille had not led her away.”
[66] Edward, Baron, afterwards Viscount, Conway. He had been one of the Secretaries of State since January, 1623. He was subsequently removed from that office, “for notable insufficiency,” says Clarendon, and in December, 1628, appointed Lord President of the Council. It is somewhat singular that Bassompierre, very particular as a rule to give the English nobles whom he met during his mission their titles, does not do so in the case of Conway. “But it is to be observed,” remarks Croker, “that the office of Secretary of State was still (both in England and France) considered a subordinate one, and even the peerage did not exempt the possessor from the plebeian appellation of ‘Mr. Secretary.’”
[67] In Bassompierre’s dispatches to his Court we find further details of the stormy interview. “I was treated,” he writes to Louis XIII, “with great rudeness, and found the King very little disposed to oblige my master.” Charles complained bitterly of the intrigues of the Queen’s French attendants; of their malice in seeking to wean his wife’s affection from him, and their insolence in prejudicing her against the English language and nation. The King grew at length so warm as to exclaim to the Ambassador: “Why do you not execute your commission and declare war?” “I am not a herald to declare war,” was the answer, “but a marshal of France, to make it when declared.”
[68] The favourite’s presumptuous behaviour towards his sovereign was not always so delicately reproved as it was on this occasion by the well-bred and courtly Bassompierre. “On the eventful day of Dr. Lambe [an astrologer, who went by the name of the ‘Duke’s Devil’] being torn to pieces by the mob, a circumstance occurred to Buckingham, somewhat remarkable, to show the spirit of the times. The King and the duke were in the Spring Gardens, looking on the bowlers; the duke put on his hat; one Wilson, a Scotchman, first kissing the duke’s hands, snatched it off, saying: ‘Off with your hat before the king.’ Buckingham, not apt to restrain himself, kicked the Scotchman; but the king interfered, saying: ‘Let him alone, George; he is either mad or a fool.’ ‘No, sir,’ replied the Scotchman, ‘I am a sober man, and, if your Majesty will give me leave, I will tell you of this man which many know and none dare speak.”—Disraeli, Curiosities of Literature, Vol. II.
[69] John Egerton, Viscount Brackley, created Earl of Bridgewater in 1617, son of Lord Chancellor Egerton.