Page:Cassell's Illustrated History of England vol 3.djvu/118

104 but now he was strangely carried away with rash and youthful councils, and followed the humour of Buckingham, who had he knew not how many devils within him since that journey." Still he was staggered at the belief that Buckingham was courting popularity at his expense, for he said he had tried him many times, by setting him to make unpopular motions in the house, which he had always done freely. He begged Carendolet, however, to procure him from the ambassadors specific grounds for a charge against him, and that he would then take a course with him; confessing so far the truth of their assertion, that he had no servant of his own who would dare to do it. So sincere did he appear in this purpose, that he sent father Maestro, a Jesuit, to the ambassadors, to urge them forward in this business.

So far all was promising, but neither Buckingham nor Charles were yet aware of the storm brewing. So soon as they found something amiss they would speedily worm out the secret, and the danger would recoil on the heads of the daring Spaniards.

Accordingly, the next morning James appeared with a lowering aspect, and a confused manner. His conversation was broken and enigmatical, and soon after taking coach for Windsor, he bade his son accompany him and the duke stay behind. Buckingham was thunderstruck, and coming to the carriage door with tears in his eyes, implored the king to say in what he had offended him; vowing that he would in the name of Christ clear himself, or make a faithful confession. James made no reply, but drove off blubbering like a schoolboy, and lamenting that in his old age he was betrayed by those who were dearest to him. He went on and let out enough to Charles to put him and Buckingham upon the track of a full discovery. There was no lack of spies and detectives in their service, and Williams, the lord-keeper, the most subtle and powerful of them, was soon in possession of the whole secret. He had a mistress, who was also the mistress of Carendolet, and he had seen enough of the Spanish movement of late to suspect the quarter whence the trouble came. He soon, therefore, made his appearance at Buckingham's house, where he found the duke in the utmost despair, conscious that he had for some time been losing the favour of James. He had pumped sufficient out of the woman to be able to seize a catholic priest in Dury Lane, who she said was in the full confidence of her lover, Carendolet. As this priest by the late proclamation was liable to be put to death for being found in the country, Williams quickly terrified him out of the whole secret, and with the draft of the paper in his hand which had been given to the king, at once enlightened Buckingham on the whole matter.

By Williams's advice Buckingham instantly posted to Windsor, and closeted himself with Charles, to whom the indefatigable Williams had already sent a string of answers to the whole of the Spanish charges.

With this in their hands the work with James was easy. Charles introduced Buckingham to his father, and expressed the intensest grief at the monarch's anger: the favourite then undertook to explain everything. James read the document drawn up by Williams with great deliberation, and Charles commented and elucidated as seemed requisite: and James, ever and anon saying, "Well, very well," at length rose up, declaring the Spaniards malicious scoundrels, embraced Charles and Buckingham tenderly, and expressed much concern for having unjustly suspected them. "But," he continued, "I ask no more from you than you tell me who struck the sparks for this light." This was a posing question, and seeing their hesitation, he added, "Well, I have a good nostril, and will answer mine own question: my keeper had the main finger in it. I dare swear he bolted the flour and made it up into paste." When Charles, in his turn, asked Williams—who be it remembered was also a bishop—how he made the discovery, "Truly," replied this exemplary right reverend father in God, "another would blush to tell you what heifer he ploughed with, but all my intelligence comes out of a lady's chamber, and I have found this maxim in my studies of divinity—Alieno peccato uti licet."

But though James professed to his son and the duke to be perfectly satisfied, there were matters in the communications of the Spaniards which were not likely to be soon forgotten by him. He was assured that Buckingham had proposed to marry his daughter to the eldest son of the palsgrave, so that the palsgravine being the real heir to his son Charles, he might pave the way for his own posterity to the English throne. The Spaniards asserted this confidently, as the cause of Buckingham breaking off the Spanish match. They declared that "on the same day that he received letters from the most illustrious princess palatine, he caused the procurative to be revoked; and a few days after, on the coming of the aforesaid princess's secretary, and the confirmation of his hope of having his daughter married to her highness's son, all things were utterly dashed to pieces."

James resolved to satisfy himself further, and put an oath to each of the privy councillors seriatim, as to his knowledge of any plans such as the Spanish ambassadors had warned hull of. But the imagined shrewdness of James was no match for the eyes and influences with which he was surrounded. Charles procured a copy of the questions to be put by James, and instantly despatched the following letter to Buckingham:—"Steenie,—I send you here inclosed the interrogatories that the king thinks fit should be asked concerning the malicious accusations of the Spanish ambassadors. As for the way: my father is resolved, if you do not gainsay it, and show reason to the contrary, to take the oaths himself, and to make secretary Calvert and the chancellor of the exchequer to take the examinations in writing under their hands that are examined: this much is by the king's command. Now for my opinion. It is this:—That you can incur no danger in this but by opposing the king's proceedings in it, to make him suspect that you have spoken somewhat that you are willing he should hear of; for I cannot think that any man is so mad as to call his own head in question, by making a lie against you, when all the world knows me to be your friend. And if they tell but the truth I know they can say but what the king knows that you have avowed to the world; which is that you think, as I do, that the continuance of those treaties with Spain might breed much mischief. Wherefore, my advice to you is, that you do not oppose or show yourself discontented at the king's course herein; for I think it will be so far from doing you hurt.