The difference was soon reconciled; and “my Lord of Buckingham,” as he was called by several annalists of the day, gave a dinner to the King and Queen for the express purpose of reconciling his Highness to his royal father. The King and Queen dined at a separate table, but in the same room as that in which the lords and ladies were feasted: among these, Lady Hatton, Lady Villiers Compton, and Lady Fielding, and several others of the same family, were placed; the King drank to all these separately, and sent them secret messages. At the close of the banquet, he rose, and drank a common health to all the noble family, and declared that he desired them to advance them before all others. “And because,” adds the writer of the letter in which this account is given of himself, “there was no doubt—for, said he, ‘I live to that end;’ be assured we live in their posterity’s name, that they would so far regard their father’s commandments and instructions as to advance that house above all others whatsoever.”[[231]]
The King shortly afterwards verified his assertion by creating Lady Villiers Compton, by patent, Countess of Buckingham in her own right for life. The Heralds, it is said, were “posed” to explain how Sir Thomas Compton, himself of a noble and loyal family, should have no part in this patent; but the public could easily comprehend that it was the aim and intention of James to elevate the Villiers family by every mark of especial favour. The newly-made Countess of Buckingham, thus raised by fortune from a low estate, did not escape calumny; rumours, both scandalous and unjust, being set afloat regarding her imputed intimacy with Lord Keeper Williams, who succeeded Bacon on the woolsack.[[232]]
Another melancholy event saddened all hearts, and excited a deep and generous resentment. This was the death of Sir Walter Ralegh. In this event, “the sacrifice,” as Hume expresses it, “of the only man in the nation who had a high reputation for valour and military experience,” Buckingham had no doubt some indirect participation. He promoted it, because he promoted the projected alliance with Spain, which had now, for some years, lain the closest at the King’s heart. He was responsible for it, because no intercession that he might have chosen to make for the “gallantest worthie that England ever bred,” would have been proffered in vain. During the early part of his career, Buckingham had, indeed, befriended Ralegh; but little credit is to be assigned for the mediation which, in 1615, had procured the release of the illustrious prisoner, after twelve years of durance, since it was purchased, through the agency of Lady Villiers, for fifteen hundred pounds. On that occasion, Ralegh had addressed a letter of thanks to the all-powerful favourite; but now affairs had undergone a marvellous change. Even money could not avail, and Buckingham, in all the sunshine of his fortunes, stood at all events indifferent, if not accessory, to the infamous sentence, by the revival of which Ralegh was doomed to death.
The fashion of the day, as well as the wishes of the King, all tended at this time to increase the ascendancy of Spanish counsels in England. James entertained an opinion, peculiar to himself, that any marriage, except with a daughter of France or Spain, would be unworthy of the Prince of Wales, and he would never suffer a princess of any other royal house to be mentioned in his presence as a suitable consort for the heir apparent.[[233]] Upon the death of Prince Henry, a negotiation for a marriage between the Prince Charles and the second daughter of France, the Princess Christine, was set on foot, but failed, owing to the death of the Count de Soissons, its chief promoter.[[234]] The efforts of the Spanish ambassador, the famous Gondomar, and the long course of intrigues which attended his visitation to England, afterwards effectually set aside for a time all thoughts of prosecuting the scheme of a marriage treaty with either of the French princesses, on the one hand; whilst, on the other, the affairs of Germany were such as to discourage, to all appearance, the exertions which were made by the Spanish party in England to produce a union between the royal families of Great Britain and Spain. Frederic, the Elector, and son-in-law of James, had accepted the tender of the crown of Bohemia, and become, consequently, involved in hostilities with Austria, and these were regarded as a religious war; for Austria, which, throughout her dominions, had always made religion a pretext for her usurpations, now upheld the Catholic faith as her object, whilst the Elector Palatine, a Protestant, ranged himself on the side of liberty. The whole of the English nation were eager to espouse the cause, and to aid the brave exertions of that prince. Sincerely attached to the Princess Palatine, the ill-fated Elizabeth of Bohemia, they considered her interests, and those of her husband, as constituting a sort of crusade, and they were ready to risk plunging the country into all “the chaos of German politics,” considering the contest as between Protestantism and liberty—and Popery and despotism.
On the first introduction of Gondomar to the King, an accident had occurred which was regarded by many as a presage.[[235]] As the ambassador was passing from the Council Chamber, along the terrace towards the Great Chamber in Whitehall, a piece of the floor sank, and several persons fell down. The Earl of Arundel hurt his face; the Lord Gerrard and Lord Gray also received some injury from the fall; the ambassador alone escaped, being held up by two of the household guards. This accident seemed ominous of the ultimate rupture between England and Spain; James regarded it in that light, and could never bear to hear it mentioned!
Unwonted honours were indeed shown to Gondomar. He was received with marks of great distinction, and lodged at Ely House, which had been prepared for his use with considerable expense. But the most important deviation from established custom was the appropriation of a cloth of state to this ambassador, an appendage never permitted to any such personage before. That mark of favour, however, which gave the greatest offence to the Puritan party, was the order that the chapel should be renewed and embellished, and an altar placed in it. All the ambassador’s expenses of living were defrayed by the King; although, on being offered some of the royal attendants, Gondomar declined their services. Whilst these things were going on at Court, the populace, cherishing the cause of the distant and deserted daughter of James, Elizabeth of Bohemia, were parading the streets with drums beating, to muster recruits for the Palatinate.[[236]]
But James was under the influence of Gondomar, and Spain was connected by the closest ties of blood, and by the still dearer bonds of political interest, with the Emperor of Austria. Gondomar well understood the King, and divined his wishes. He offered, at this juncture, the second daughter of the King of Spain to Prince Charles, and backed his proposal by the promise of an immense sum of money, which he well knew would be acceptable in the present needy circumstances of the British King. The proposal, though entertained by James, was distrusted by the public, and deemed wholly insincere, for it was thought that Spain had no intention of forming any union with a princess of heretical principles.
The fate of Sir Walter Ralegh was therefore sealed. Twenty-three years before, he had acquired for the crown of England a claim to the continent of Guiana; and, in his second expedition, had planned, and executed through his son Walter, the sacking of St. Thomas, a small town which the Spaniards, not acknowledging the British claim to the territory of Guiana, had built on the river Oronooko. The young Walter Ralegh was killed in that attempt. He was a young man more desirous of honour than safety; “with whom,” said the agonized father, on hearing of his loss, “to say truth, all the respects of this world have taken end in me.”[[237]]
Ralegh was now to suffer for the results of an enterprise which he had undertaken with the express consent of the King.[[238]] Whilst proceedings were carried on against him, Gondomar was entertained, as it will be remembered, with a marked distinction by Buckingham. The extreme youth of the favourite had indeed attracted the witticisms of the artful Spaniard, who had converted that circumstance into a compliment to the King’s penetration, telling his Majesty “that he was the wisest and happiest prince in Christendom, to make privy-counsellors sage at the age of twenty-one, when his master, the King of Spain, could not do it when they were sixty.”[[239]] The wily Spaniard dealt out his phrases in points and conceits, a sort of discourse then well received in society, and peculiarly agreeable to the King. He affected, also, to speak false Latin. The King laughed at him, on which the Ambassador rejoined, “Your Majesty speaks like a pedant, but I speak like a gentleman,” and James gloried in his acknowledged superiority in the classics. By these small contrivances had Gondomar insinuated himself into royal favour, so that no boon that he could ask—not even the life of the venerated Ralegh—could be refused.
There was another wheel within this closely-contrived political machine. The Countess of Buckingham was inclined to Popery; and became, eventually, a convert to that faith. This circumstance naturally influenced greatly the son, over whose counsels the Countess continued to hold a sway, and to dispose them to the marriage of the heir apparent to a Catholic.