THE WISEST FOOL IN CHRISTENDOM.
The Royal Court of King James, at Whitehall, was furnished and
embellished with all the luxury which love of show and the power of
the owner could command. Choicest tapestries draped the walls, carpets
of marvelous softness covered the floors. In the King's bedchamber
stood an elaborately carved bedstead canopied with perfumed velvet
cunningly wrought in silk and gold. Upon its front glittered the royal
arms of England.
Reared as he had been in the plainness of Scottish simplicity, the
wealth and lavish display in the English manor houses where he had
rested during his journey from Edinburgh delighted and enchanted him
in the highest degree. Vain, fond of indolent diversions, and prodigal
in expenditures, he at once surrounded himself with the choicest
products of the weavers, decorators and artisans of the Continent.
In a chamber of this palace, on the second afternoon following the
meeting of Catesby with Rookwood and Anne Vaux at the hiding place of
the Jesuit Superior, an interesting conversation took place between
the Queen's lady-in-waiting, and one Robert Carr, a Scotchman, and
favorite of the King. After James ascended the throne of England he
meted out ample measure to his countrymen, likening himself to Joseph,
who, being raised to power, forgot not his brethren. That this Robert
was of goodly parts, being fair of feature and elegant of limb,
rendered him the more acceptable to his royal master; forsooth, there
were few of the nobles in the two kingdoms but knew certain tales
concerning the favorites of the King, young gallants of the period
whose presence at Court added nothing to the honor of their sovereign.
Robert Carr, a person of deep perception and gifted with certain
Scottish wit, pandered much to the follies and pride of his
benefactor. He was also a man easily excited by beauty of face and
grace of manner, and had fallen desperately in love with Mistress
Vaux, to his own undoing and the jealousy of the Queen's women. It was
this state of affairs which the Jesuit had reckoned upon, when, in
casting about for an expedient to check the fiery zeal of Sir Robert
Catesby, he had suggested that one dwelt at Court who might learn what
was in the mind of the King concerning certain policies. Being
instructed by Garnet what course to pursue, Anne Vaux, on her return
to Whitehall, made haste to summon into her presence the King's
favorite. Nor did Carr need a second bidding to betake himself to the
lady's chamber.
"Sweet Anne!" cried he, dropping upon his knee before the
maid-in-waiting, "thou hast saved me from despair. Knowest thou 'tis
eight and forty hours since thy gentle presence hath made earth to me
a paradise?"
"Nay, good Robert!" replied she, demurely casting down her eyes, yet
permitting the gallant to retain her hand, "Speak not of despair; thou
who hast so high a place with our royal master. Amid thy pleasures the
absence of Anne Vaux can be but of small moment unto thee."
Carr covered her hand with kisses.
"Whitehall without thee is a barren wilderness," cried he, "for thee
would I barter faith, honor----"
Anne raised her head until her eyes met his.
"Nay, sweet gentleman!" said she, softly, "'tis not faith, nor honor I
would ask of thee; 'tis----"
"Speak!" murmured Carr, overcome by his emotions. "Speak, that I may
serve thee."
"'Tis but little," replied the lady, "yet would it please me much, and
thou art able to converse freely with his Majesty."
"The King!" cried Carr, alarmed that the name of James should enter
into his love making. "What wouldst thou with the King?"
Anne withdrew her hand. "Ah!" cried she, pushing him gently from her,
"'tis so little, yet thou wouldst withhold thy courtesy. There be
certain other gentlemen, my lord of----"
"Say not so," stammered the courtier, "be it the crown itself." His
companion laughed merrily. "The crown!" cried she, "what would Anne
Vaux with the crown of England? 'Tis but a simple question, a word
with his Majesty, that I may gain a wager."
"Speak then," said Carr, "that I may hasten to obey thee."
"Thou knowest," replied Anne, "there be much serious speculation, many
theories formed throughout the kingdom concerning the mind of the King
regarding the penalties against the Catholics. Some there be who hold
'tis the King's wish that the ordinances, or edicts of Elizabeth, be
removed utterly, while others affirm that James doth join with
Parliament for their maintenance. Having been drawn into an argument
with certain of my mistress' ladies, a wager was made, that ere the
morrow the truth of the matter should to me be disclosed."
The look on her companion's face changed to consternation.
"Ask the King concerning so grave a matter?" cried he.
"A truce, Master Carr!" replied Anne, sharply, "it needeth small
perception to discern thy temper. Thou dost ask much, yet givest
little."
The King's favorite was nonplussed. To question James concerning
affairs of State was no light matter, yet, in opposition to so doing
stood the anger and the loss of Mistress Vaux. This thought, which he
could not endure, caused him to hesitate.
"Be it so!" said the lady, coldly, "Thou hast refused so small a
favor, therefore will I summon one who, methinks, hath more
consideration." And she moved as though to touch the bell upon the
table.
The action, indicating his dismissal, removed all scruples which had
arisen in the mind of the courtier, and kneeling before her he pledged
himself to at once seek an audience with the King, who, having passed
the afternoon in hunting, was resting in his own apartments.
Pleased that her object had been so easily gained, Anne permitted the
enraptured Scotchman to clasp her in his arms, then he rushed from the
chamber hoping after a short interview with the King to return to her.
As Carr had intimated, James, wearied by several hours in the saddle,
for it was his pleasure to hunt or horseback in Waltham forest and in
other royal chases, had retired early to his bed chamber. He had eaten
heartily, for despite his ungainly person the First of the Stuarts was
a famous trenchman. Freed from his quilted clothes and mellow with
strong wine, he admitted to his presence two gentlemen who sought an
audience.
The noblemen who were thus occupants of the royal chamber stood in
strong contrast to the Sovereign of England. Their large and
gracefully proportioned figures were made most conspicuous by the big
head, rickety legs and dwarfed body of their royal master, while the
calm dignity which enveloped them set forth vividly the driveling
speech, and coarseness of him whom the death of the last of the Tudors
had placed upon the throne.
"Ah!" cried James, perceiving the gentlemen upon the threshold,
"welcome most worthy Monteagle and Viscount Effingston! Hast thou then
an answer to my argument?"
The lips of the younger nobleman trembled nervously as he sought to
repress a smile, but his companion advanced quickly to the royal couch
upon which the King had stretched himself.
"The wisdom of your Majesty is indeed unanswerable," said he bending
to kiss the hand held out to him.
James chuckled loudly.
"'Tis my pleasure to discourse on certain matters," replied he, "and my
good lord of Monteagle, being well versed in the learning of the
period, doth turn with relish to a well written document. It was,
methinks, concerning the 'True Law of Free Monarchy.'"
"Nay, your Majesty," replied Monteagle, drawing a paper from his
doublet, "'twas thy most learned discourse on tobacco."
The Viscount Effingston, who stood well behind his father, turned
aside his face, that the King might not note the smile upon it. James,
however, having plunged into one of his pedantic hobbies, had small
perception of aught aside from the discourse in hand.
"'Twas, in truth!" cried he, "a most learned writing, bearing upon
the use of an ill-savored weed. What thinkest thou, my lord?"
"'Tis indeed most ably written," replied Monteagle, "and being much
impressed with the wisdom so plainly set forth, I did read it aloud to
several of my gentlemen."
"And what said they, good Monteagle?"
"That your Majesty had, in truth, touched the heart of the matter,"
replied the peer. "Even Sir Raleigh, upon the reading of it, would,
methinks, turn from the habit."
"That would he," said the King, gruffly, for the name of Raleigh was
in no wise pleasing to him.
"A most excellent document!" broke in the Viscount, "my worthy father
was about to beg your Majesty for further discourse on so grave a
matter."
Monteagle cast a look of keen reproach at his son; 'twas not for the
pleasure of discussing the "Counterblast To Tobacco," the famous
literary production of the King, that he had sought this audience.
James, however, was highly pleased at the young man's words.
"Good Monteagle!" cried he, "thy son is a worthy gentleman, and
methinks our reign will see him a most favored peer. Instruct him,
that he fall not into certain habits as to bells and candlesticks, nor
give ear too seriously to the teachings of them who would embroil our
kingdom."
At this moment Robert Carr, hastening to the royal bed chamber, in
order to obey the wishes of Mistress Vaux, entered the ante-room and
hearing his master in converse with others, paused noiselessly behind
the curtains.
"Faith!" continued James, receiving no reply from Monteagle or his
son, "it is rumored that thou also hath dealt somewhat closely with
these disturbers of the kingdom."
Alarmed at the character of the conversation assumed by the King, the
nobleman would have checked it by well timed flattery, but James was
not to be turned from his purpose.
"It doth much annoy me," prated he, "that certain reports are spread
abroad making it seem my desire, against the wishes of our good
Parliament, to remit certain fines----"
Carr, whose ear was pressed close against the curtain, rubbed his
hands together in exultation that there was like to be, without
discomfort to himself, something ready for the ear of the Queen's
waiting woman.
"And divers statutes against those who would bring back the Jesuits,"
continued James, plucking impatiently the fringe of his couch cover.
"Your Majesty is, in truth, the spring of justice," said Monteagle,
soberly, "and it ill befits thy subjects, be they Puritans or
Catholics, to----"
A wave of passion swept across the royal face.
"Puritans and Catholics!" cried he, sitting upright. "Zounds! What
then? Am I not king? Wherefore should I tolerate in this good kingdom
those who teach treason in their churches?"
Monteagle's position was truly equivocal. The son of a Protestant
peer, through his marriage, early in life, with the daughter of a
Catholic, he became involved in certain Papistic plots, and listened
to the teachings of the missionary priests. James had made him the
recipient of many court favors, for the maintenance of which,
Monteagle, balancing the advantages of his position against the loss
which might accrue to him were he to boldly adhere to his religion,
had become lukewarm in the faith of the Catholics, and this had
brought him into disrepute with his old associates.
"'Tis a grave matter that there be any in England whose faith takes
precedence of their loyalty," said he, the King ceasing his harangue
through lack of breath.
"Thou sayest rightly!" cried he, "nor will I abate one jot or tittle
from that I have set before me. As it is atheism and blasphemy to
dispute what is in God's power, so it is presumption and high contempt
for a subject to question a king's will; nor should a king abate even
the breadth of a hair from that right which his prerogative gives unto
him."
The Viscount Effingston pulled his father's sleeve.
"We had best retire," he whispered, "the wine hath mounted to the head
of yonder fool, and, perchance, he may see in thee a Raleigh or a
Cobham."
The King was, indeed, weary of the interview. The exertion of the
afternoon, the heated room, the wine and the ill temper into which he
had fallen, deprived him of his usual wit, leaving him only boorish
and irritable.
"My lord Monteagle," said he, peevishly, "it pleases me that you
retire, for a certain languor of the body rendereth our discourse
unprofitable."
The words of his son had startled the nobleman from his usual
composure, and receiving the King's permission to retire, he made
haste to kiss the royal hand, well pleased that the audience was
ended, although certain favors which he desired to ask of his Majesty
remained unspoken.
"Faith!" said the favorite, as the two peers passed his hiding place,
"I have, indeed, had a most fortunate escape, for James is in poor
condition to discuss even with Robert Carr, that which sent him
hither."
Then, as the King's valets crowded into the chamber, summoned by the
furious ringing of their master's bell, he looked for an instant upon
the half-drunken monarch, dropped the curtain and hastened down the
corridor that he might relate to Mistress Vaux that which he had
overheard.