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]
Footnote 214:
Memoirs of the Court of King James, by Bishop Goodman, edited by the
Rev. T. B. Brewer, vol. ii., p. 344. Taken from the original Hol.
Tan., lxxiii., 392. Translated from the French.
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]
Footnote 215:
Memoires de Madame de Motteville, vol. i, p. 14.
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.
Footnote 216:
Memoires de Madame de Motteville, vol. i., p. 16.
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 80,000_l._[218]
Footnote 217:
Reliquiæ Wottonianæ, 221.
Footnote 218:
Miss Aikin’s Memoirs of Charles I., vol. i.
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]
Footnote 219:
Bishop Goodman, vol. i., p. 290. Letter from Balthazar Gerbier of the
Duke of Buckingham. Also State Papers, vol. iii., No. 7.
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.
Footnote 220:
Punctilio was then at its height. The point of etiquette, whether the
Earl of Carlisle was to wait upon the Cardinal first, or the Cardinal
upon the Earl, was settled by Richelieu’s feigning sickness and
continuing in bed.--Miss Aikin’s Court of Charles I., p. 24.
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]
Footnote 221:
Madame de Motteville, vol. i., p. 15.
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."
Footnote 222:
Court and Times of James I., by Bishop Goodman, vol. ii., p. 265.
Footnote 223:
Ibid, p. 311.
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.
Footnote 224:
Rushworth, p. 170.
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.”
Footnote 225:
Inedited Letter in the State Paper Office. (Not in the Calendar.)
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]
Footnote 226:
State Papers, vol. iii., No. 25.
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]
Footnote 227:
Rushworth, p. 171.
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]
Footnote 228:
Kennet’s Complete History of England, vol. ii., p. 4.
Footnote 229:
Ibid.
Footnote 230:
Inedited Letter in the State Paper Office.
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]
Footnote 231:
Life of Lord Keeper Williams, p. 10.
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.
Footnote 232:
Court of King Charles, Secret History of the Court of James I., p. 23.
Footnote 233:
Ibid.
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]
Footnote 234:
Lilly’s True History of James I. and Charles I.
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]
Footnote 235:
State Papers, vol. clxxxiii., No. 41.
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.
Footnote 236:
State Papers, vol. clxxxiv., No. 7.
Footnote 237:
State Papers.--Letter dated Feb. 19th.
Footnote 238:
Letter from Sir R. Heath and Sir T. Coventry to the Duke of
Buckingham.--See Bishop Goodman’s Memoirs, vol. ii., p. 376.
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.
Footnote 239:
State Papers, vol. clxxiv., No. 47. Inedited Papers, Domestic, 1625.
“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.
Footnote 240:
State Papers, vol. clxxiv., No. 47.--Chamberlain to Sir D. Carleton,
Feb. 26th, 1625. Inedited State Papers.
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.
Footnote 241:
Inedited Letter from Mr. Chamberlain to Sir D. Carleton, State Paper
Office.
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.
Footnote 242:
State Papers, vol. cxxxv., No. 12.
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 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 60,000_l._,
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]
Footnote 243:
Campbell’s Life of Sir E. Coke, p. 335, note.
Footnote 244:
Lloyd’s State Worthies.
Footnote 245:
State Papers, vol. cliv., No. 85.
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.’"
Footnote 246:
Goodman’s Memoirs, vol. ii., p. 313.
Footnote 247:
Ibid, p. 264.
Footnote 248:
Dated April 1st, 1623; Harl. MSS., 1581, p. 129.
Footnote 249:
One of the Duke’s attendants.
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]
Footnote 250:
Harl. MSS., 1581, p. 279.
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.
Footnote 251:
Inedited Documents in the State Paper Office, July 13th, 1624.
Footnote 252:
State Papers.
Footnote 253:
To the Earl of Carlisle, 22,000 crowns. To the Earl of Holland, 20,000
crowns. Sir G. Young had a diamond from the King worth 2,000 francs;
from the queen-mother one of 300_l._, and curious plate to the value
of 12,000_l._--State Papers, 1624.
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.” 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]
Footnote 254:
Parallel. Reliquiæ Wotton., p. 172.
Footnote 255:
Ibid, 174.
Footnote 256:
Letter from Mr. Chamberlain to Sir D. Carleton. In edited State
Papers, June 13th, 1624.
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.”
Footnote 257:
In the State Paper Office there are several letters from Endymion
Porter to his wife, written in the inflated style of love letters of
that period, which the curious in such matters will find in the
Domestic Papers, 1624, 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]
Footnote 258:
On the 22nd of June, 1625. I have not found this account in any of
our historians.--State Papers, inedited.
Footnote 259:
Sturgeon, as well as whales, were excepted from the other great
fishes, sea dogs, called royal fishes, to which the Lord High
Admiral laid claim, when they came near the shore by right.--See
Chamberlayne’s State of England, p. 81.
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]
Footnote 260:
Chamberlain to Sir D. Carleton, June 25.--State Papers inedited.
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]
Footnote 261:
Chamberlain to Sir D. Carleton, June 25.--State Papers inedited.
Footnote 262:
State Papers, for 1625.
Footnote 263:
Chamberlain to Sir D. Carleton, Jan. 1, 1619-20.