Villiers now held the office of cup-bearer, and, since it was purchased, as most offices in that reign were, it is probable that those who promoted his rise, from a hatred of the Earl of Somerset, supplied him with the means of thus drawing near to his sovereign at the social board; nor was the office in those days, when James was frequently in a state of inebriation, a sinecure.

One day, Villiers happened to take by mistake the upper end of the board instead of another attendant. The person whom he had thus superseded was a creature of Somerset’s; Villiers was told of his error in an offensive manner, and removed from his post. Incensed afterwards by a second instance of incivility, he lost his self-control, and gave his brother cup-bearer a blow. By the custom of the Court, Villiers thus made himself liable to have his hand cut off; and Somerset, who was Lord Chamberlain, was bound by his office to see that penalty inflicted. It may readily be conceived with what alacrity Somerset would have fulfilled this part of his duty, but the King interposed, and pardoned Villiers, “who henceforth,” remarks an historian, “was regarded as a budding favourite, and appeared like a proper palm beside the discerning spirit of the King, who first cherished him, through his innate virtue, that surprised all men.”[[81]]

It was however necessary that the merits of Villiers should be unfolded to the Queen. Anne of Denmark, although apparently slighted by her royal husband, exercised so considerable a control over his actions that he never, according to the testimony of Archbishop Abbot, “would admit anyone to nearness about himself but such a one as the Queen should commend unto him, and had made some suit on his behalf.” Nor did this wholly proceed from a reverence for Her Majesty’s judgment. It was the result of the mingled weakness of conduct and duplicity which characterised James, forming a strong contrast with his real ability and acquirements; the absence of good sense and good taste were equally conspicuous in all he did in private life; but he was cunning enough to desire that if he made a false step the blame should rest upon his Queen. His motive in desiring her approval was that, if she were ill treated by the favourite, he might have the power of saying to her, “You were the party that commended him to me.” “Our old master,” remarks Archbishop Abbot, “took delight in things of this nature.”[[82]]

Queen Anne had previously been solicited in behalf of Villiers, but in vain; Abbot was, however, successful in his application. For some time, indeed, the Queen answered him in these terms: “My lord, you and your friends know not what you ask, for if this young man be brought in, the first persons that he will plague will be you that labour for him. Yea, I shall have my part also; the King,” added the wary Queen, “will teach him to despise and hardly entreat us, that he may seem to be beholden to no one but himself.”

“Noble Queen,” exclaimed Abbot, when, after experiencing the hollowness of Court favour and the ingratitude of Buckingham, he wrote the narrative of these incidents, “how like a prophetess did you speak!” Upon the compliance of the Queen, it was resolved to introduce Villiers to the King, for the double honour of being appointed one of His Majesty’s Gentlemen of the Bedchamber, and of receiving knighthood. The day was approaching, when Villiers fell ill, not without suspicion of having taken the small-pox. This happened when all his friends were “casting about” how to make him a great man. On the twenty-third of April[[83]] he was, however, sufficiently recovered for the good offices of his party to take effect.

The event was accomplished in the following manner:—The Queen and Prince being in the King’s bedchamber, it was contrived that Villiers,[[84]] who was near, should be summoned on some pretext, and when the “Queen saw her own time, he was asked in.” “Then,” says an historian, “did the Queen speak to the Prince to draw out the sword and to give it her; and immediately, with the sword drawn, she kneeled to the King, and humbly beseeched His Majesty to do her that especial favour as to knight this noble gentleman, whose name was George, for the honour of St. George, whose feast was now kept. The King at first seemed to be afraid that the Queen should come too near him with a naked sword, but then he did it very joyfully, and it might very well be that it was his own contriving, for he did much please himself with such inventions.”[[85]]

It must have been a strange scene, for Somerset, who was at hand, entreated of the King that his rival might only be made a Groom of the Chamber; but Abbot, and others whom the Archbishop does not name, stood at the door and plied the Queen with messages that she would “perfect her work, and cause him to be made a gentleman,” and Her Majesty, as we have seen, prevailed. Nor were these honours, in the case of Villiers, attended with the expense which usually lessened their value; on the contrary, a pension of a thousand pounds was added to maintain the dignity of knighthood.[[86]]

The termination of this incident, so important in the life of Villiers, is related by Archbishop Abbot; Villiers at this time called him “father.” The professions which he made to his reverend patron were then doubtless sincere; but gratitude was not the only good seed which political feuds and evil counsels stifled in the breast of Villiers.

“George,” relates the prelate, “went in with the King, but no sooner he got loose but he came forth unto me into the Privy Gallery, and there embraced me. He professed that he was so infinitely bound unto me, that all his life long he must honour me as his father; and now he did beseech me, that I would give him some lessons how he should carry himself.” These lessons were three in number:—first, to pray daily to God to bless the King his master, and to give him grace studiously to serve and please him. The second was, that he should do all good offices between the King and the Queen, the King and the Prince. The third, that he should fill his master’s ears with nothing but the truth. These excellent instructions were afterwards repeated to James, who observed that they were “instructions worthy of an archbishop to give to a young man.”

For some time, an affection, on the one hand expressed in parental terms, and gratitude on the other, continued. “And now, my George,” wrote the Archbishop, “because, out of your kind affection to me, you style me your father, I will from this day forward repute and esteem you for my son, and so hereafter you 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 who urge those things upon you, but have private ends of their own, which are not fit for you. So praying God to bless you,