THE OFFER
JAMES, Duke of York, sat at the table drumming on it with restless
fingers. Charles, the King, lolled as usual on the window-seat, playing
with one of his spaniels. Sir Thomas Clifford, Chancellor, sat stiffly
by the fire and looked ill-at-ease, which indeed he was. There was
silence save for the yapping of the spaniel.
Presently the Duke pushed back his chair.
“Will the man never come?” he said.
Charles did not raise his eyes. Sir Thomas glanced at the clock.
“It--it wants ten minutes to the hour, sir,” he said propitiatingly.
James shrugged impatiently. He looked over at his brother. The
spaniel’s yapping jarred on him.
“Is Lord Roxhythe not expected until three, Sir?” he asked.
“No,” answered the King.
“Would it not have been better to have seen him before M. Colbert?”
James did not conceal his impatience well.
“Wherefore?”
Charles yawned.
Quick footsteps came along the passage.
“Perhaps this is he?” hazarded Clifford.
“My Lord Roxhythe never hurries,” sneered James. “This is M. Colbert.”
The French ambassador entered, and cast a swift glance round the room.
He swept a bow to the King.
“Sire!” He turned. “Altesse!” He turned again. “Sir Thomas!”
Charles nodded easily.
“Pray sit down, monsieur. We are delighted to see you.”
James rose jerkily and went forward.
“You are very punctual, M. Colbert. Will you take this chair? We still
lack Lord Roxhythe.”
“It still wants three minutes to the hour, sir,” remarked Clifford.
“No doubt ye have heard from His French Majesty?” asked James, ignoring
the interruption.
Colbert bowed.
“A plaguey damp day, eh, monsieur?” drawled the King.
The Frenchman’s dark eyes twinkled.
“As Your Majesty says,” he agreed.
“You don’t have such weather in your country,” went on Charles. “’Tis a
fortunate land.”
The Duke shut his eyes, exasperated. Charles glanced at the clock.
“The hour,” he said. “And--I think--Roxhythe.”
The three other men turned to look at the door.
It opened. Mr. Chiffinch, the King’s confidential page, announced my
Lord Roxhythe and my lord came in unhurriedly.
His chestnut wig was nicely curled, and hung down over his shoulders;
his dress was carefully chosen. In one hand he carried his hat; in the
other, his comfit-box and cane. His calm, rather ironic eyes travelled
slowly round the room, and came to rest on the King. He made a very low
bow. Then he made another which included all the room.
The Duke of York’s brows drew closer together.
“Davy,” sighed the King. “You are punctuality personified! How a-God’s
name, do you manage it?”
“I really don’t know, Sir,” said Roxhythe. “I believe it must be a
habit.”
“A vice,” answered Charles, mournfully. “One which I do not possess. I
think you know M. Colbert?”
“I have that honour,” bowed Roxhythe.
“Then I need present nobody,” said the King. “How very fortunate! Oh,
sit down, Davy! sit down!” He waved him to a chair.
Roxhythe sat down and crossed one leg over the other. He looked
expectant.
Charles sighed.
“Proceed, gentlemen,” he counselled them, stroking his dog’s head.
“Do you wish me to--conduct the conversation, Sir?” asked James bluntly.
“Pray do!” begged the King.
James turned to the Frenchman.
“M. Colbert, you advised His Majesty some time since that you had
certain propositions to lay before him, coming from King Louis. For the
sake of these other gentlemen, will you be good enough to repeat them?”
He sat back in his chair, his eyes keen and alert.
M. Colbert twisted one of his rings round.
“But certainly, m’sieu’. It comes to my master’s ears that King Charles
was not quite at one with his Cabinet over the Dutch Alliance. He is
relieved, _naturellement_, for he has always been King Charles’
very good friend and cousin. He feared once that the alliance might
lead to war between England and France--oh, ridiculous, of course! but
there was a chance of such a thing--and he would be loth to fight one
whom he wishes so well. Of course. He knows that there are in England,
many Catholic gentlemen ...” he bowed to Clifford. “... of whom Sir
Thomas is one. The interests of the Church are his, as they are of
every good Catholic ...” he bowed to James. “... he is desirous of
seeing England return to the old Faith. He believes, too, that King
Charles would give much to see this.”
King Charles twisted the spaniel’s ears above its head, and eyed the
effect pensively.
“He realizes, however, that it is not an easy matter for King Charles
to drive the true Faith into his country--without assistance. But for
such a cause--a cause that is ever nearest his heart--His Majesty would
readily lend assistance.
“There is also another side, messieurs. For many years England and
France have been enemies. His Majesty desires that this shall be so no
longer. He would make a compact with England that should seal forever
the friendship of two countries that lie at each other’s doors--two
countries that are the most powerful in the world. He thinks it more
than a pity that such countries should be at enmity, as must be the
case if England allies herself with the Provinces.
“His Majesty knows that, together, England and France are all-powerful.
Together they might do aught they pleased. It might be thought,
messieurs, that His Majesty would be desirous of annexing England
for his own. Such could never be the case. His Majesty would never
interfere with England save at England’s wish. It might be thought
that he would desire England to pay him tribute. He does not. If it
should be that France makes war, he would want England to join her,
should he call for help. He would share with King Charles, not the
expenses, which he would pay himself, but the profits of war. He would
hold himself bound to come to England’s aid if ever she should call,
exacting naught in payment, messieurs, save a share in the profits.
More than that even would he be prepared to do: he would bear all the
expenses of any war of his making, and a large share of the expenses of
a war on England’s side. You must agree, messieurs, that His Majesty is
generous.”
Clifford moved, turning his head.
“To what ends, monsieur?”
“To the end, Sir Thomas, that he may prove himself England’s friend,
and the Church’s friend.”
Clifford pursed his lips.
“If this be so, His Majesty is indeed generous,” he said.
The Frenchman inclined his head.
“There is another private matter,” he pursued, more slowly. “His
Majesty apprehends that King Charles finds it difficult to live as
should live a Monarch of his degree.” He turned to Charles. “Your
Majesty will forgive me if I speak too plainly.”
Charles nodded casually.
“I thank Your Majesty. King Louis, I say, knows this. During the years
of his exile, King Charles his purse was very surely drained, as was
natural, in his efforts to come back to an ungrateful people. The
many grievous losses that he sustained could not be re-paid to him
in full. His Majesty, my master, hath a great regard for his cousin;
it grieves him to see King Charles in any way pressed for money. He,
King Louis, has not had to bear such drains on his private purse, and
he is, as you, messieurs, no doubt know, moderately wealthy. Because
of this love which he bears King Charles, he is anxious to supply him
with means wherewith to live as he should. He knows that King Charles
is too noble, too kindly a man to tax his people as did--forgive me,
Sire--his father. He thinks it little less than shameful that by reason
of this true nobility of mind King Charles should be in want. Quite
privately he would desire to make King Charles an allowance. This he
could not do, as you must realize, messieurs, if England were at enmity
with France. But this private matter has naught to do with the other
matter of which I have already spoken. It is a gift from one cousin to
another, if King Charles will have it so, and not deem himself insulted
by King Louis his offer.”
There was a long pause.
Roxhythe played idly with the tassels of his glove, his face
inscrutable. James was looking at Clifford, who sat staring into the
fire.
“It is for you, Sir Thomas, to speak,” said the Duke at last.
Clifford raised his head. He spoke bluntly.
“M. Colbert, King Louis his offer would appear to be generous to an
extreme. Yet this offer of money to His Majesty savours too much of
bribery for my liking.”
The Duke of York stiffened. Over M. Colbert’s face came a look of
pained surprise. Roxhythe stopped playing with his gloves. Only Charles
paid no heed.
“Sir Thomas, I am sure you cannot realize that such a suggestion is
little less than an insult to His Majesty!” said James harshly.
“And to my master,” came haughtily from Colbert.
“I crave His Majesty’s pardon if I offended,” answered Clifford, red to
the ears. “But I still say that the offer has that appearance.”
James was about to reply, but with a deprecating smile Colbert
forestalled him.
“You are perfectly right, Sir Thomas. To an evil-thinking world that
to no man accords the desire to do good for goodness’ sake alone, King
Louis’ entirely disinterested offer smacks of bribery. It is for this
reason that he would wish the matter kept secret. He expects to gain
nothing by this offer. It is made out of his love for King Charles, not
from any desire of gain for himself. He could not, of course, voice
such a proposal were England and France at disagreement. I have given
you his reasons for wishing their friendship; this private offer to
King Charles is no part of it. It has naught to do with the State; it
is between man and man. Yet His Majesty foresaw that the public, who,
being low-minded, credit all others with their same motives, would cry
shame to King Charles for accepting a bribe. The muck and run of men,
Sir Thomas, will not believe that a man can be generous, hoping to gain
nothing by his generosity. I had not judged you to be of this class;
I still do not. I know that you spoke in the heat of the moment, not
giving yourself time to reflect. Had you done so, you would have seen
how wrong--pardon me--how base were your suspicions.”
Clifford met his reproachful look, and stammered hopelessly.
“His Majesty knows--that I--that you--that I meant no offence--by what
I said. Perhaps--that is, of course, I spoke heatedly. I would not
accuse King Louis--of--of descending to--bribery. I could not think
that His Majesty--” he cast a flurried glance at Charles, “--would
countenance a--a bribe. I--I but said it savoured of that, as--as I
think it does, sir!”
“It is for that reason that the matter should be kept secret, Sir
Thomas. I confess, if I had thought you would take this tone I had not
mentioned the matter to you. Knowing you to be an upright man, I had
hardly expected you to impute dishonourable motives to others.”
Sir Thomas collapsed.
“Sir, you misunderstand me! I--I meant no rudeness to His Majesty!
I--” he floundered hopelessly and stopped.
M. Colbert wiped his lips with a delicately laced handkerchief.
“I am much relieved to hear you say so, Sir Thomas. May I now go on to
my next point?”
The Duke nodded shortly.
“It is this: His Majesty is fully alive to the fact that there are in
your English Cabinet many honest gentlemen who are yet very stubborn
and narrow. They, like many other ignorant people, are averse from
dealing with France. They are Protestants, messieurs. They may be
drawn to the right way of looking at a French alliance, but at present
they will not listen to reason. Once it was proved to them that
France desired nothing but friendship from England, their objections
would fade. They would see that an alliance with France was for their
country’s good. In holding away from it they, all unwittingly, work
great harm on England. They cannot be brought round at present, but is
it to be permitted that they should do England this great wrong? They
have proved stubborn; they have showed that they will not listen to
argument. Shall they not then be ignored? They would raise an outcry;
they would prevail upon the ignorance of the people; they would prevent
an alliance. Then they must know naught until the thing is done, when
they will soon see that it is not a great evil, but a great good.”
“You mean a secret treaty?” asked Clifford blankly.
“Secret only for the moment,” promptly replied Colbert. “Think on what
I have said, monsieur, and tell me if this great thing for England is
to be quenched by a party of dogged Protestants.”
“I do see the truth in what you say, sir, but there are many points
against it.”
“Will you not name them, Sir Thomas?”
“The first and foremost of them is this, sir: what you propose is
no less than a violation of the Triple Alliance, whereby we bound
ourselves to stand by Holland against France if need be. Your proposal
is a treaty with an enemy country made behind the backs of the rest of
the Cabinet. It likes me not.”
“It is true that we ignore these ignorant gentlemen. But have I not
proved to you that it is for England’s good? Do you value these
gentlemen’s feelings above your country?”
“Not I, sir. But I had sooner that they were made cognizant of the
affair.”
“So they might hold lengthy debates, raise an outcry, and howl it down?
You must see that it is impossible. They will realize afterwards that
it is for their country’s good.”
Clifford spoke sarcastically now.
“Not if you seek to force Catholicism down their throats, sir.”
James frowned, biting his lip. Colbert waved his hand expressively.
“You do not credit my master with much perspicacity if you do not
realize that he has foreseen that, Sir Thomas. He is not an impetuous
man. He sees that the introduction--rather, I should say, the
furtherance--of Catholicism in England must be brought about slowly,
and with great care. He has no mind to raise a hubbub. He has no mind
to ‘force’ the Faith into England. He even sees that it cannot be as
yet. He is content to wait until King Charles calls to him. If King
Charles finds it not necessary to call, he will be the more thankful.
He wants not to interfere in another man’s country. Very earnestly does
he counsel King Charles not to hasten this great work to its undoing.
The time is not yet.”
James stirred restlessly, and seemed about to speak. Then he checked
himself.
After a short pause Colbert continued.
“I would not ask you to give a hasty decision, Sir Thomas. I ask you to
think over all I have said before you speak.”
“I shall most certainly do so,” said Clifford. “I cannot but see that
there are great points in favour of this plan, but, as I have told
you, there are points which like me not. But I will think on it. Is
there--anything further?”
“At present, nothing, sir.”
“Then...?” Sir Thomas looked hesitatingly at the King. “Have I Your
Majesty’s leave to withdraw?” He rose as he spoke. So did Colbert. So
also did Charles and Roxhythe.
“I too,” said the Frenchman.
Charles nodded. He spoke for the first time since the beginning of the
interview.
“We have to thank you, M. Colbert, for your patience. We will speak on
this more fully later on. We will not keep you.”
Colbert bowed over his hand and went out.
Charles turned to Clifford. His wonderful smile dawned.
“You will think me seriously on this, Sir Thomas? And you’ll not
believe ill of your poor King?”
“Sire!” Clifford caught his hand, kissing it. “I crave Your Majesty’s
pardon again and again.”
“Why, there is naught to forgive,” said Charles gently. “I but ask that
you’ll not think evil of me.”
“I could not, Sir! I--I--” Clifford kissed his hand again. “I spoke in
heat.”
“Then that is very well,” smiled Charles. He watched him leave the
room, smiling.
“M. Colbert--speaks you very fair, Sir,” said James.
Charles regarded him thoughtfully, his eyes alight with laughter. He
shifted the dog under his arm.
“Damned plausible, a’n’t he?” he chuckled, and walked slowly back to
his seat.
The Duke watched him uneasily. Roxhythe continued to play with his
gloves.
“You don’t believe in the French King’s offer, Sir?” asked James
abruptly.
“I want to know what lies behind.”
“You heard M. Colbert.”
“I heard a deal of smooth talk.”
James sighed.
“You don’t trust Louis, Sir?”
“Do you?” riposted the King.
James stared down at his hand lying clenched on the table.
“I trust very few people, Sir. I want no French yoke about our necks.
But is this a yoke?”
“Louis would wish it to be without a doubt,” replied the King. “The
question is: can I circumvent him?”
“Yes.” It was Roxhythe who spoke. “Louis cannot afford to offend you,
Sir.”
“If it comes to that, I cannot well afford to offend Louis,” remarked
the King.
“Better than can he, Sir. At all costs he must have England, if not at
his side, at least not against him. England turns the scale.”
“That is so,” agreed James. “If Louis plans more wars on the Continent
he must be assured of England’s help. And there is the cause. For that
the alliance is all-important.”
Charles became exasperated.
“James, I am thinking of the Cause, as you call it. What matters it to
us if England is Catholic or no? It is a secondary consideration. I am
thinking how I may profit by the alliance and yet prevent Louis making
of me a catspaw.”
“Then, Sir, we are privy to this thing from different motives! I wonder
that you weigh your own petty advantages before the great Cause! I am
privy to the bond only for the good it may do the country! With France
at our back we may successfully drive the Faith into the country. It
seems that you are privy to the thing for the pecuniary good it may do
you!”
Charles nodded amiably. His brother’s outbursts never had the slightest
effect on his good-humour.
“Quite right, Jamie. And if I am not like to profit over-much I’ll have
naught to do with an alliance that bids fair to be a plaguey nuisance.”
Roxhythe laid his hat on the table. Charles glanced affectionately in
his direction.
“And that brings us to Roxhythe his share in the business. Davy, I
have had but one word with you since you returned from Paris. Tell us
exactly what you ascertained.”
The Duke leaned back in his chair, scowling. He never liked Roxhythe.
“There is not much to tell, Sir. As yet the scheme is in embryo. Madame
d’Orléans is very secret.”
“I wonder if I did right to negotiate through her?” said the King. “But
I could trust Holles.”
“You did quite right, Sir. Madame is to be trusted. At present she is
vague--partly because Louis is vague. We must walk carefully. It has
been made clear to me that Louis wants to hold England at his beck
and call. The offer of aid to you is a bribe, of course. If he fails
to snare you he will try to bribe the more corruptible members of the
House. At all costs he must have England to back him in his wars on
Holland. Roughly speaking what he wants is this: to have England aid
him in these wars, and to have England uphold him in his right to any
new titles that may fall to him.”
“I had guessed the Spanish business to be in his mind,” said Charles.
“That will not harm me. War with the Dutch? H’m! Does he know my
people’s temper, I wonder?”
“I think he has great faith in Your Majesty’s adroitness. He stipulates
too that the Catholic Faith shall be propagated in England. But
remember, Sir, war on Holland is his first thought!”
“Is it?” said Charles cheerfully. “I do not think it is mine, though.”
James lifted his eyes.
“The Promotion of the Faith is the first matter to be attended to,” he
said.
Charles pursed his lips.
“I might stipulate for that, Davy. I should gain time.”
“You might, Sir.”
“You must!” corrected James sharply. “It serves a double purpose. If
you successfully drive the Faith in you make your position the more
secure, and you know that you have done your duty as a Catholic.”
“Very comforting,” said Charles. “The first purpose appeals to me more.
There is another thing, Roxhythe.”
“What is that, Sir?”
“If Louis subdues the Provinces I want provision made for my nephew.”
James stared at him.
“Why?”
Charles did not look at him.
“You understand, Roxhythe?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“But why?” persisted James.
“Another double purpose, Jamie. Because I pledged my word to his mother
to protect his interests.”
“You’ve not done much to protect them during all these years!”
Charles spoke with quiet majesty.
“I have done all that was in my power to do.”
“Beyond protesting to De Witt--”
“I could do naught. Nor was it necessary. The Prince has been well
cared for, and he was but a child. Now it is different.
“Evidently!” said James. “But where is your double purpose?”
The King’s eyes met Roxhythe’s.
“I believe it were politic to placate my nephew. I desire to stand well
with him.”
James pulled at his lip.
“A mere child. Why?”
“Because I think that he will one day become a power not lightly to be
overlooked. Are you satisfied?”
James was silent.
“And now, Roxhythe, it is for you to determine the price. Louis refused
the two million.”
“Two million?” exclaimed James. “What folly!” He rose. “With your
leave, Sir, I’ll withdraw. You will best arrange this alone!”
“Very well,” said Charles. He watched him go out. “Roxhythe, you must
discover my sister’s attitude in the matter.”
“I believe that Madame is fair-minded, Sir.”
“What mean you by that?”
“That she will favour neither side. If it were possible she would
strive for you. As it is she holds herself neutral. She is a wise
intermediary, Sir.”
“So it seems,” said Charles. “We shall see. In the meantime, Roxhythe,
go you to Paris. I shall put this matter before Arlington. I fancy we
shall have trouble with him.”
“I thought he was your man, Sir?”
“So he is. But his wife is Dutch--and of the House of Orange.”
“True. Yet he will stand, I think, by you.”
“We shall see,” repeated Charles.