Chapter VII (2)

In the midst of these negotiations, the ill-timed arrival of the Prince and Buckingham came, not to obviate obstacles, but to multiply them. Digby, now Earl of Bristol, whose jealousy of Buckingham may be detected throughout all his correspondence, was greatly discomposed by their appearance at Madrid. Nor was this a sentiment confined to Digby. Howell, who perfectly understood Spanish affairs, observes in his letters:—

“And others were of the same opinion as the ambassador, namely, that the journey was ill-advised, hazardous, undisguised, and unpopular.”

The King, however, was still delighted with the momentous frolic. On the twenty-sixth of February he wrote from Newmarket, telling the Prince and Marquis what lords were to follow them to Spain. “Their poor old dade,” he added, “was lamer than ever he was, both of his right hand and foot and wryttes all this out of his naked bedde.”[433] The King having, in fact, encountered a very serious accident during the previous year, his health was daily becoming more feeble. It is, therefore, almost touching to find the kind-hearted, weak Monarch, prematurely aged as he was, entering most heartily into all that concerned his two absent treasures, of whose enjoyment he thought, it is obvious, far more than the welfare of his subjects. The Prince had left instructions that sixteen of his suite should follow him, with his jewels and other articles. The King, however, complains in his letter that the “imperfect note my babie had left” put him into a great deal of pain, “for ye left,” he says, “some necessary servants out, in the opinion of all your principal officers, and ye ken, as I was forced to add those, then everie man ranne upon me for his freende, so I was torn in peecis amongst thamme. I have no more to saye,” he thus concludes, “but that I weare Steenie’s picture in a blew ribben under my wastcoate, next my hearte.”[434]

Footnote 433:

Nichols, 811.

Footnote 434:

Harl. MSS., 389. Quoted in Nichols’s Progresses, vol. iii., p.
808.

The following letter gives a characteristic account of the Prince and Steenie:—

“DEAR DAD AND GOSSOPE,

“On Friday last (March seventh) wee arrived here at five o’clock at night, both in perfect helth. The caus whie wee advertised you of it no soner, was that wee knew you would be glad to hear as well of the maner of oure reception as of oure arrivall. First, wee resolved to discover the woer,[435] becaus upon the speedie opening of the ports we fond (found) posts making such hast after us, that we knew it would be discovered within twelve hours after, and better wee had the thanke of it then a postillion. The next morning wee sent for Gondamar, who went presentlie to the Condé of Olivares, and as speedilie gott me your (Doge Steenie) a private audience of the Kinge.

Footnote 435:

To throw off Charles’s disguise.

“When I was to returne backe to my lodging, the Condé of Olivares, himself alone, would needs accompanie me backe againe to salute the Prince in the King’s name.

“The next day (March 9, Sunday, O.S.) wee had a private visit of the Kinge, the Queene, the Infanta, Don Carolus, and the Cardinal, in sight of all the world; and I may caule it a private obligation, hidden from nobodie, for there was the Pope’s Nuntio, the Emperor’s Imbassador, the French, and alle the streets fild with gards and other people. Before the King’s coch went the best of his nobilities; after followed all the Ladies of the Court. Wee sate in an invisible coch, becaus nobodie was suffered to take notice of it, though seen by all the world. In this forme they passed three times by us, but before wee could get away, the Condé of Olivares came into our coch, and convaied us home, where he tould us the King longd and died for want of a nere sight of our woer. First he took me in his coch to goe to the Kinge. We found him walking in the streets with his cloke throne over his face, and a sword and buckler by his side. He leped into the coch, and away he came to find the woer in another place appoynted, where there past much kindnes and compliment one to another. You may judge by this how sensible the Kinge is of your sone’s journie, and if wee can eyther judge by outward shoes (shows) or generall speeches, we have reason to condeme your Imbassadors for righting tow (writing too) sparinglie then tow much.

“To conclude, we finde the Condé of Olivares so overvaluing of our journie, that he is so full of reall courtesie that we can doe no less than beseech your Majestie to right the kindest letter of thanks and acknowledgement you can unto him.

“He said no later unto us than this morning, that if the Pope would not give a dispensation for a wife, they would give the Infanta to the (thy) son’s Babie as his wench, and has this day righten (written) to the Cardinall Ludovicio, then Pope’s nephew, that the Kinge of England hath put such an obligation upon this Kinge in sending his Sone hether that he intreats him to make hast of the dispensation, for he can denie him nothing that is in his kingdome. We must hould you thus much longer to tell you the Pope’s Nuntio works as maliciouslie and as activelie as he can against us, but reseves such rude answers that we hoep he will soon werie on’t.

“Wee make this collection of it, that the Pope will be verie loth to grant a dispensation, which if he will not doe, then wee would gladlie have your directions how fare wee may ingage you in the acknowledgement of the Pope’s spirituall power, for we allmost find, if you will be contented to acknowledge the Pope’s cheefe Hed under Christ, that the mach will be made without him. So craving your blessing, wee rest

“Your Ma’ties humble, obedient sone and servant,

”CHARLES.

“Madrill, the 10th of March, 1623.

“Your humble slave and doge,

“STEENIE.

“For the best of Fathers and Masters.”

On another sheet, written at the same time, but signed by “Steenie” alone, and perhaps written without the Prince’s knowledge, he says:—“The cheefest advertisment of all wee omitted in oure other letter, which was to let you know how we like your daughter, his wife, and my ladie mistris. Without flatterie, I think there is not a sweeter creature in the world. Babie Charles himself is so touched at the hart, that he confesses all he ever yett saw is nothinge to her.”

The King, in his answer to this letter, dated March twenty-fifth, says:—“I have written a letre to the Condé d’Olivares, as both of you desired me, as full of thankes and kyndnes as can be desyred, as indeed he well deserves.“

“I know not,” says the King, in reply, “quhat ye meane by my acknowledging the Pope’s spirituall supremacie. I am sure ye wolde not have me to renounce my religion for all the world; but all I can guess at your meaning is, that it may be ye have an allusion to a passage in my booke against Bellarmine, quhaire I offer, if the Pope wold guyte his godheade, and usurping over Kings, to acknowledge him for the Cheefe Bishoppe, to whom all appeals of churchmen ought to lye _en dernier ressort_; the verie wordes I sende you heere inclosed, and that is the furthest my conscience will permit me to goe upon this pointe, for I am not a Monsieur, quho can shifte his religion as easilie as he can shifte his shirte quhen he commeth from tennice.”

The passage in his hook, which the King fancied Buckingham might allude to (though he more probably had never read it), is thus written, in the King’s own hand, on a separate slip of paper: “And for myselfe, if that were yett the question, I wolde with all my hairte give my consent that the Bishoppe of Rome showlde have the first seate. I, being a Western king, wolde go with the Patriarche of the West. And for his temporall principalities over the seignorie of Rome, I do not quenell it nether, lett him in God’s name be primus Episcopus inter omnes Episcopos et Princeps Episcoporum, so it be no other wayes but as St. Peter was _Princeps Apostolorum_.”[436]

Footnote 436:

Harleian MSS., 6987.—Printed at length in Nichols.

To these letters, Endymion Porter added an account in a letter to his wife, that the Prince and Duke were “most handsomely received. The King, Queen, and Infanta,” he adds, “drove out yesterday[437] in a coach, when the Prince, in another coach, saw his mistress, and was much stricken with her beauty.”[438]

Footnote 437:

March 10, 1622-23.

Footnote 438:

State Papers.

It was soon found necessary to retrench the numbers that were to go to Spain, that the ships “might not be pestered;” no lord was to have had more than four men, no gentleman more than two. Even this seems to us rather a full complement in the present day; but, when it is remembered what an extraordinary number of jewels were worn in the dresses of that day, it will not appear too many to take care of the valuables conveyed by each peer, or to maintain the dignity and state so much insisted on at that period.

Amongst other personages who followed Charles, or, as he was called in Spain, “the wooer to the Spanish Court,” was Archy, King James’s fool, who must needs also have his attendant, which was at first refused, but afterwards allowed. By April, the Prince’s household, jewels, apparel, and the robes for St. George’s Day, were gone; tilting armour, caparisons, and horses, asked for by Charles and Buckingham, were also to follow. “The dispensation,” Conway wrote, from Spain, to Sir Thomas Wentworth, “will soon be there, and nothing but either the desperately envious, or vile almanack-makers, arguing from conjunction of planets, now talk of delay.”

It is curious to remark how eager those about the Court, and above all, those dependant on Buckingham, were for the marriage, and how little it was wished for by the majority of the people.

Ten ships were to set out in April, to bring back by the end of May their rich charge; such were the expectations cherished in England. Digby, a sceptical looker on, did not think that the match would be advanced by the Prince’s arrival; whilst at home, difficulties arose as to the condition of the ten ships intended to be sent with the horses; the _Prince Royal_, built for Prince Henry, was found to be in so damaged a state that she was not sea-worthy; this vessel was repaired, in order to bring back Buckingham, who was expected home before the Prince, and was victualled for the voyage to Spain; but the King, with characteristic calculation, expected that the “King of Spain, who so magnificently feasted the Prince, would surely give the ships fresh victuals for their homeward journey,” which action, however, seems never to have occurred to his Spanish Majesty.[439] Lord Carey, chamberlain to the Prince, received a commission to execute martial law, during the voyage to Spain, over the Prince’s household, but his powers were not to extend to the captains or to the crew, nor to be exercised till the vessel was out at sea. No sad apprehensions were, however, to be allowed during Charles’s absence; “where philosophy fails,” wrote Sir Thomas Edmondes,[440] “faith must begin.” All things had been prepared for the Infanta’s departure from her native country, and June was the latest month stated for her arrival in this, but still the Earl of Bristol, whilst protesting that the Spaniards would be the most perfidious wretches alive if they did not restore the Palatinate, for “they say that they would rather throw the Infanta into the sea, than marry her to our Prince, when his sister and her children are deprived of their patrimony,” still, he feared there was “mischief brewing” about the Electorship.

Footnote 439:

State Paper Office, vol. cxliii., No. 41.

Footnote 440:

From London. March 18.

Meantime, all was gay, all was gracious, at Madrid. According to a more detailed account than their own, the Prince and Buckingham rode into that city about eight o’clock in the evening of the seventh of March, attended by a postilion only, having previously ridden post three days; they alighted at the house of the Earl of Bristol, Buckingham entering first, with a portmanteau under his arm, announcing himself as “Mr. Thomas Smith;” then “Mr. John Smith” (the Prince), was sent for; he had remained standing on the other side of the street. Lord Bristol, in amazement, took the prince to his bedroom, where Charles called for pen and ink, and despatched a letter to England, to inform His Majesty how, after a journey of sixteen days, he had reached Madrid in safety. The next day, Endymion Porter and Sir Francis Cottington, who had been purposely left half a day’s journey behind, came also; and it was soon rumoured that some great man was come from England, and reports were even circulated that it was the King.[441] The Condé de Gondomar was, however, soon apprised of the truth. He hastened to present himself to the Prince, and, falling flat on his face, the artful Spaniard exclaimed “_Nunc dimittis!_” as if the climax of human felicity had come to pass. The next day was Sunday, and, since the forms of the Spanish Court did not admit of an immediate presentation, it was agreed that the first meeting should take place by a kind of premeditated chance, so to speak—the Prince retaining his disguise. Charles, with the ardour of a young and romantic man, had entreated Gondomar to procure him an immediate “sight of the Infanta,” which the Condé promised to do; reminding the Prince that it was Lent, which was, of course, an obstacle to a public reception. The King afterwards promised Charles that though it were Lent, it should not be “Lent to him;” and that he should have all he would, and all that the country should afford.”[442] In the evening of Saturday, Buckingham went in a close coach to Court, where he had a private audience of King Philip, and also of the Condé Olivares, who accompanied him back to the Prince, whose hand he kissed, kneeling, clasping his arms also round Charles’s legs. Endymion Porter was the interpreter, on this occasion, between the Prince and Olivares.[443]

Footnote 441:

Howell’s Letters, p. 116.

Footnote 442:

The account of the Prince’s reception in Spain is chiefly taken
from “A True Relation and Journal of the Arrival and Entertainment
given to the High and Mighty Prince Charles, by the King of
Spain.”—Printed in Nichols’s Progresses, vol. iii., p. 818.

Footnote 443:

Howell.

On Sunday afternoon, Charles, for the first time, saw the young Princess towards whom he afterwards played so unworthy a part. It was in the park of Madrid. The Infanta was seated in the boot of the carriage, with a blue ribbon round her arm, in order that the Prince might distinguish her. A grand _cortége_, composed of the chief nobility of that proud Court, followed the royal carriages. Charles, disguised, with Buckingham by his side, Gondomar and Sir Walter Aston being in the same carriage, went in the Duke de Cea’s coach. It had been settled that no recognition should take place. The Infanta, as her royal suitor passed her, could not conceal her agitation; the colour came into her face; neither could her brother and Charles help exchanging salutations, as they drove repeatedly past each other, both in the town and Prado. Evening drew on, and the King and the royal party returned home by torch-light, the effect of which was magnificent.

Still, it was thought due to the observance of Lent, as well as agreeable to etiquette, that private interviews only should take place, especially before Charles had made his public entrance. That same evening, therefore, the King, after many punctilios, in which the soul of Spanish honour and politeness was displayed, met the Prince again in the park, taking him into his own coach, and placing him at his right hand. On parting, there was an embarrassing ceremonial—the King insisting on conducting Charles back to his carriage, Charles not suffering it. So they parted midway on the road.

Charles’s days passed, indeed, in a manner peculiarly agreeable to one of his disposition. On one occasion, having first seen the King ride through the streets on horseback to a monastery called La Merced, where the King had rooms furnished for occasional residence, he went afterwards to take the air by the fields on the river’s side; another day, he repaired to the palace, and was conducted by Olivares through the back way. “Your babie,” Buckingham wrote to the King, “desired to kiss his (the King’s) hands privatelie in the pallace, which was granted him, and thus performed. First, the King would not suffer him to come to his chamber, but met him at the stare-foote; then entered in the coch, and walked into the parke. The greatest matter that passed between us at that time was complements and particular questions of all our journaie; then, by force, he would needs convaie him half way home; in doing which they were almost overthrone in brick pits.”[444]

Footnote 444:

Note from Harl. MSS., 6987.—Nichols, p. 823.

Many were the resources to which Charles turned for relaxation during this interval of expectation. His mornings were spent in his private affairs, among which we may reckon the cultivation of his taste for pictures; in the afternoon, accompanied by his beloved Steenie, he went forth into the fields, where Bristol attended on him with his hawks; or he visited a country house of the King’s, called Caso del Campo, where, meeting Philip and his brothers, Don Carlos and Don Fernando the Cardinal, they diverted themselves by watching “men placed there to shoot at such kinds of game as were found in the place;” hares were started, partridges sprang up, and other fowl, all of which were killed, after the custom of that day, as they went running or flying by the marksmen. Sometimes the King, with the old Spanish courtesy, sent the Prince two horses, desiring him to choose the best for himself, and to leave him the worst to ride out on; then Charles would order the steeds to be exercised in a garden near the Earl of Bristol’s house, and, not to be outdone in politeness, he would himself try them both, and send the best back for the King’s use.

At length the day arrived when Charles made his solemn entry into Madrid, under circumstances of interest which almost superseded even the imposing magnificence of the ceremonial. On the sixteenth of March, he received the Inquisitor General, and all the different Councils of the kingdom—the Corregidores and the Regidores of Madrid—at the Monastery of San Geronimo, whence the Kings of Spain always make their public entrance. These public functionaries endeavoured, on being presented to the Prince, to kiss his hand, but Charles resisted this demonstration, considering that it was due only to the lawful sovereign of the realm.

The magnificence of the procession that ensued owed much of its picturesque beauty to its being on horseback. As they approached the immediate precincts of Madrid—Charles riding on the right of Philip—they were met by four and twenty Legidores of the town—whose office it was to carry over the King’s head a canopy of tissue, lined with crimson cloth of gold. The King then took the Prince under the canopy, still keeping him on his right hand; before them rode the Ministers of Justice, next the grandees, sumptuously clad, for it is an old saying, that no one dresses so plainly every day, nor so gorgeously on occasions, as the Spaniards.[445] Their picturesque costumes, their grave and stately bearing, their gallant steeds—so famed throughout Europe—must have made this band of nobles one of the fairest spectacles of the time.

Footnote 445:

Howell’s Letters.

They were apparelled, as the chronicler expresses it, “in colours and great bravery,” their servants, in rich liveries, attending.

After the King and Prince came Buckingham and Olivares, in their respective offices of Master of the Horse, each of them with a horse of state, as the ensign of the place he enjoyed. The canopy held over these two favourites and ministers was afterwards presented to Buckingham, as well as all other fees belonging to the Master of the Horse—because he served that day the Prince in whose honour the procession took place. Then came Lord Bristol, Sir Walter Aston, and the Council of State, with the gentlemen of the King’s bedchamber; and a part of that “goodly guard,” called “de los archeros, bravely clad and arrayed.”

This unrivalled procession passed along through streets hung here and there with rich draperies, or adorned with curious pictures, and “sprinkled” with scaffoldings, on which stood the chief magistrates of Madrid; in some streets, also, there were dancers, comedians, and musicians, to amuse the royal pair as they rode gracefully onwards. At length, the King and Charles reached the palace, where some time was consumed by ancient ceremonials, each contending for the hindmost place; but, “in fine,” writes the chronicler, “they went hand-in-hand, or rather, with their arms round each other, until they came into the presence of the Queen.”

Her Majesty was seated under a cloth of state, at the extremity of a large room, where the chairs were placed. This apartment was superbly furnished; but the chief riches, it is said, consisted in that “living tapestry of ladies, and of the children of noblemen who stood near the walls.” The Queen, not awaiting the approach of Charles, went forward to welcome him; he was then conducted to the apartments destined for him, the Queen herself, with the King, seeing him to the very doors, where her royal brothers-in-law stood to receive him. There was then a courteous dispute, the Prince wishing to attend His Majesty back to his own part of the palace; Philip insisting that Charles should only make one step in that direction. Scarcely an hour had elapsed, before a great basin of massive gold, carried by two men, and containing an embroidered nightgown, laid double in it, was brought—a present from the Queen to Charles; besides which, she sent him two large trunks, bound in hands of pure gold, and thickly stuck with gold nails—with a gold lock and key; the coverings of the trunks were of amber leather, whilst their contents consisted of curious linens and perfumes. In addition to these, there was also presented a rich desk, every drawer of which was full of rarities; Buckingham, at the same time, receiving a “noble present” from the Condessa Olivares. That night the old town was illuminated both with torches and fireworks, which were kept up for eight days.

Such was the commencement of Charles’s residence in Spain. It was decreed that he should be attended only by nobles, and served and addressed as a King; The Condé de Gondomar and the Condé de Plueba were to act as Majordomos; the Condé de Monterey, brother-in-law of Olivares, was to be his chief Majordomo. The most delicate attention of all was, however, the King’s giving two gilt keys to the Prince, requesting him to present one of them to those of his attendants whom he most preferred, in order that the whole of the palace might be open to him or his retinue. The keys were, of course, given to Buckingham and Bristol.

Whilst such delicate hospitality was being manifested in Spain, James, at home, was collecting all the jewels he could with any propriety send, and some which he had no right to give away, to add to the grandeur of Babie and Steenie. His letter, on this occasion, is most characteristic of his infatuation for the Spanish match, and of his easy conscience on matters connected with religion.[446]

Footnote 446:

Nichols, 832, note.

He writes thus:—

“MY SWEETE BOYES,

“I wrytte nou this sevint (seventh) letre unto you upon the sevinteent of March,[447] sent in my ship called the Adventure, to my tuo boyes, adventurers, quhom God ever blesse! And now to beguinne with Him:—A Jove principium—I have sent you, my babie, two of youre Chaplains, fitted for this purpose, Mawe and Wrenne, together with all ornaments and stuffe fit for the service of God. I have fullie instructed them in all theyre behavioure, and theyre service shall, I hoape, prove decent and agreeable to the puritie of the Primitive Churche, and yett as near the Romane forme as can lawfullie be done, for it hath ever been my way to goe with the Church of Rome, _usque et aras_. All the particulars hereof I remitte to the relation of youre before-named chaplens.”

Footnote 447:

17th March, 1622-23.

The King then mentions that he sent the robes of the Order of the Garter. “Quhache,” he says, “you must not forgette to wear on St. George’s Day, and dine together in thaime,” if they arrived in time, which he hoped to God would be the case, for it would be “a goodlie sight for the Spaniards to see my two boyes dine in thaime.”

The King next enumerates the jewels he despatched:—

“For my babies’ presenting his mistresse, I sende an olde double crosse of Lorraine, not so rich as anciente, yet not contemtible for the valewe: a goodly looking-glasse, with my picture in it, to be hung at her girdle, quhiche ye must tell her ye have caused it so to be enchawnted by a vile magike, as, quhensoever she shall be pleased to look into it, she shall see the fairest ladie that ather her brother’s or youre father’s dominions can afforde.[448] Ye shall present her also,” James continues, “two faire long dyamonts, sett lyke an anker, and a faire pendant dyamont hanging at thaime; a goodlie roape of pearles,” a collar, or carcanet, of thirteen great ballas rubies, and thirteen knots or cinques of pearls; together with a “head-dressing, and two-and-twentie great pear pearls;” also, three pear-shaped diamonds, the largest of which was to be worn “at a needle,” in the middle of her forehead, and one in each ear.

Footnote 448:

Thus described in the list:—“A looking-glasse set in goulde, the
backside richly garnished with faire dyamondes, and six peeces of
chayne to hange it, garnished with dyamondes on both sydes.”

His “babie,” the King decreed, was to have his own round brooch of diamonds, and he sent also a famous jewel called the “Three Brethren,” consisting of a great pointed diamond, with three great pearls attached to it, and a large pendent pearl; also, the “Mirror of France,” “the fellowe of the Portugal Dyamont,” which, says the King, “I would wishe you to weare alone in your hatte, with a little blakke feather. Ye have also,” he adds, “goode dyamont buttons, of your own, to be sett to a doublett or jerkin. As for your =Ｔ=, it maye serve for a present to a Don.”[449]

Footnote 449:

A jewel in the form of a =Ｔ=.

Steenie was furnished with a fair table diamond, which the King wanted to have given him before, but Buckingham had refused it; to this a “faire pewre pearl” was now suspended, “for wearing,” said the thoughtful monarch, more occupied with these details than with the good of England, “in thy hatte, or quhaire thow plessis; and if my babie will spaire thee the two long dyamonts in form of an anker, with the pendant dyamont, it were fitt for an admirall to weare, and he hath enough better jewels for his mistresse.”

Then follows a trait of the gentle Marchioness, quite in keeping with the whole of her character:

“Thow hes of thyne owne thy goode olde jewell, thy three pindars dyamonts, the picture-cace I gave Kate, and the greate dyamont chaine I gave her, quho wolde have sent thee the best paire she hadde, if I hadde not stayed her.”

Divers other jewels were to be sent with the fleet for presents, “for saving of chairges quhair have too much nede.” These were to be presents to Spanish grandees.

The King then concludes:—

“Thus ye see how, as long as I want the sweete comfort of my boyes’ conversation, I ame forced, yea, and delytes, to converse with thaime by long letres. God bless you both, my sweete boyes; and sende you, after a successful journey, a joyful and happie returne in the armes of your dear dad,

“JAMES R.

“Dated from Newmarket, on Saint Patrick’s Day, quho of olde was too well patronized in the cuntrey ye are in.”

A few kind and amiable expressions from the Marchioness of Buckingham to her husband reached him too at this time.[450] “I thanke you for sending me so good nuse of our younge mistres. I am very glad she is so delicat a creaturr, and of so sweett a disposicion. Indeed, my Lady Bristol sent me word she was a very fine lady, and as good as fine. I am very glad of it, and that the Prince liks her so well, for the King ses (says) he is wonderfully taken with her. It is a wonderfull good hairing, for it were great pettye but the Prince should have on (one) he can love; because I thinke he’ll make a very honest husband, which is the greatest comfort in this world, to have man and wife love truly. I tould the King of the private message the Infanta sent to the Prince, to wear a great rouffe (ruff). He laft heartely, and seed (said) it was a very good sign.”

Footnote 450:

Nichols, 817, note.

The Prince and Buckingham adopted a practice of writing joint letters; for which Charles, in the next dispatch, apologized. “I hope in writing jointly as we doe,” the Prince wrote, “we plase you best, for I assure your Majesty it is not for saving paines.”[451] To which James answers:—“I wonder quhy ye shoulde aske me the question if ye should send me any more jointe letters or not. Alace! sweet hairts, it is all my comforte in your absence that ye wrytte jointe unto me, besides the great ease it is both to me, and ye neede not doubte but I will be wairie enough in not acquainting my counsel with any secrete in your letres. But I have been troubled with Hamilton,[452] quho, being presente by chawnce at my ressaving both of your firste and seconde paquette out of Madrid, wold needs peere over my shoulder quhen I was reading them, ofring ever to help me to reade any harde words, and, in good faith, he is in this busynesse, as in all things else, as variable and uncertaine as the Moone.”

Footnote 451:

Nichols, 835. Note from Harleian MSS., 6987.

Footnote 452:

James Hamilton, second Marquis of Hamilton, in Scotland, upon whom
James had conferred, in 1619, the Earldom of Cambridge, a title
formerly borne by King Edward IV., before his accession to the
Throne. The Marquis was Steward of the Royal Household.—Burke’s
Extinct Peerage.

A hint from Charles showed that he both feared his father’s indiscretion, and also apprehended opposition from the Council. “I beseech your Majesty,” he now wrote, “advyse as little with your counsel in these busineses as you can.”

James, indeed, had the unthankful task of extorting, from unwilling hands at home, money for those abroad.[453]

Footnote 453:

Nichols, p. 840.

“But, in earniste, my babie,” he afterwards wrote, “ye must be as spairing as ye can in your spending thaires, for youres.”

Amongst the jewels transmitted to Spain was a collar of gold, weighing thirteen great ballaces, and thirteen pieces of gold, with thirteen links of pearl between them. This valuable was, in 1606, annexed to the crown of England, or, as it was stated in the deed, “to the kingdoms of this realm.” It is evident that James had incurred some censure for sending what was not his own property away, for he seems to have exercised greater caution afterwards. The demands from Spain were, indeed, insatiable. Charles modestly wrote to his father thus:—[454]

“Sir,—I confess that ye have sent more jewels than at my departure I thought to have had use of; but, since my coming, seeing manie jewels worne heere, and that my braverie can consist of nothing else besydes;—that sume of them which ye have appointed me to give the Infanta, in Steenie’s oppinion and myne, ar nott fitt to be given to her; therefore I have taken this bouldness to intreate your Majesty to send more for my owen wearing and for giving to my mistress; in which I thinke your Majestie shall not doe amiss to take Carlile’s[455] advyce.”

Footnote 454:

Ibid, p. 845.

Footnote 455:

The Earl of Carlisle.

This letter was in the Prince’s hand-writing.

Buckingham’s less humble spirit was shown in the following postscript, which was in his own hand, and forms a singular contrast with the respectful tone of that of the Prince on the same topic:—

“I, doge; ye sayes you have manie jewels neyther fit for your one (own), your sone’s, nor your daughter’s[456] wearing; but verie fitt to bestow of those here, who must necessarilie have presents, and this way will be least chargeable to your Majestie in my poore opinione.”[457]

Footnote 456:

Referring not to Elizabeth of Bohemia, but to the Infanta.

Footnote 457:

Nichols, p. 846.

Three days after, the Duke wrote again in a still more insolent tone; and gave His Majesty his “poore and sausie opinion of what would be fittest to send.”

Hitherto, the Marquis said, the King had been so sparing, that when he thought to have sent the Prince sufficient for his own use, and for presents to the Infanta, and to lend to himself, he, on the contrary, had been forced to lend jewels to the Prince.[458]

Footnote 458:

Nichols, vol. ii., p. 847, dated March 25, 1623.

“You neede not aske,” Buckingham continued, “who made me able to do it. Sir, he hath neither chaine nor hat-band, and I beseech you consider how rich they are in jewells here. Then what a poore equipage he came in, how he hath no other meanes to appear as a King’s sonne, how they are usefullest at such a tyme as this, when they may doe yourselfe, your sonne, and the nation’s honor: and lastlie, how it will neyther caust nor hasard you anie thinge. These resons, I hope, since you have ventured allreadie your chiefest jewel, your sonne, will serve to persuade you to let louse theese more after him: first, your best hat-band; the Portingall diamond; the rest of the pendant diamonds to make up a necklace to give his mistress; and the best roape of pearls, with a rich chaine or tow, for himselfe to waire, or else your doge must want a collar,[459] which is the readie way to put him into it. There are manie other jewells which are of no mean qualitie, as they deserve not that name, but will save much in your purs, and serve very well for presents. They had never so good and great an occasion to take the aire out of their boxes as at this time. God knowes when they shall have such another, and they had need sometimes to get near the sonne, to continue them in there perfection.

“Madrid, 25th of Aprill, 1623.”

Footnote 459:

Alluding to having lent the Prince his own jewels.

In a postscript, Buckingham announced that he had sent the King four asses, five camels, and one elephant, “which,” he adds, “is worth your seeing, and a Barbarie horse from Walter Aston.” The animals Buckingham sent he had “imprudentlie begged for:” and he promised “to lay waitte for all the rare color birds” that could be heard of. “But if you doe not send your Babie jewells eneugh,” thus his letter concludes, “ile stope all other presents; therefore, looke to it.”

The King, taking this impertinence as a joke, thanked his “sweet Steenie gossip” for his “kind, drolling letter,” and suggested that should Babie not think it fit to present all the jewels to the Infanta, they should be brought home again; and ventured to propose also that with regard to a present to the Condé Olivares, horses, dogs and hawks, and such like stuff sent out of England, “by the sweete boyes, would be a far more acceptable present than a jewel.” He began, perhaps, to feel some remorse at his lavish folly. Prince Henry’s sword—which another father would have valued, independently of the costly diamonds with which the handle was set—had been given to the King of Spain. It was considered next in value to the Prince’s crown, and bestowed on Prince Henry by his royal mother at his creation as Prince of Wales; and had been sent in a masque, in the fanciful fashion of the day, as from Tethys to one of the Meliades.[460] All these jewels were, however, honourably returned during the year the Spanish match was broken off.[461]

Footnote 460:

Nichols, 848. Note from Archæologia, vol. xv. p. 18.

Footnote 461:

Ibid, 249.

After the important matter of the jewels had been discussed, Charles received from his father a few lines, protesting, on the word of a King, that whatsoever his son should promise in his name should be punctually performed. Charles had asked for something explicit under His Majesty’s own hand,[462] to show that he had full powers; the request was presumptuous, but Charles, who wrote it, and Buckingham, who advised it, knew to whom they applied. “It were a strange trust,” the King answered, “that I wold refuse to putte upon my owne son, and upon my best servante.”

Footnote 462:

Ibid, 857.

This servant he was now resolved to honour above all other great ones of the land, by creating him a Duke. Buckingham had probably been desirous of obtaining this honour ever since his being created Marquis, and had been employing every means of compassing his ends, by the aid of his dependents and partisans at home. Through the exertions of Secretary Conway, he had been addressed as “your Excellency.” Since that distinction is only applied to ambassadors, it is possible that Bristol may have considered it an infringement on his province to give it to Buckingham.

It was, however, one of Buckingham’s most cherished objects of ambition to assert a pre-eminence over Bristol at the Court of Spain.

There was, at this time, no English dukedom; that of York having merged into the title of Prince of Wales. The Duke of Lennox, the King’s near relation, was the only Scottish nobleman who bore the title; and he had, for forty years, held this distinction. In order to avoid placing the new duke above this nobleman, Lennox was created Earl of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and Duke of Richmond, on the seventeenth of May, and Buckingham was raised to the dukedom on the eighteenth. It was at the same time in contemplation to create two more Dukes; the Marquis of Hamilton was to be Duke of Cambridge; the Earl of Arundel, Duke of Norfolk, that nobleman refusing anything less than the restitution of that title. These creations did not take place, partly owing to the pride of the Duchess of Lennox, who wished to stand alone, and partly to that of Buckingham, whose letter to the King, on this occasion, shows his great ambition, and proves his audacity and influence.

It had been at first proposed to make him Duke of Buckingham and Clarence, thus reviving in his person a title used hitherto only by the Princes of the blood.

“DEAR DAD AND GOSSOPE,[463]

“It cannot but have bine an infinite trouble to have written so longe a letter, and so sone, especiallie at this painfull time of your armes; yet wish I not a word omitted, though the reading forsed blouses (blushes), deserving them no better; neyther is it fitt I should dissemble with my master, wherefore I confess I am not a gott (jot) sorie for the paines you have taken. This might argue I love myselfe better than my master: but my disobedience in all my future actions shall witnes the contrarie; and I can trulie say it is not in the power of your large bountiful hand and hart, ever hereafter, eyther to increase my dutie and love to you, or to overvalue myselfe as you doe by thinking it fitt I should be set so farre above my fellows. There is this difference betwixt that noble hand and hart: one may surfitt by the one, but not by the other, and soner by yours than his one (own). Therefore give me leave to stope with mine that hand which hath bine but too redie to execute the motions and affections of that kind obliging hart to me. As for that argument, that this can be no leading case to others, give me leave to say it’s trew onele in one (but that’s a greate and the maine) poynt, for I grant that I am more than confident you will never love moree of your servants (I will pausie here) better than Steenie.

Footnote 463:

Harl. MSS., 6987. In Buckingham’s own Autograph, quoted by
Nichols, note, p. 854.

“Thus it will be no leadeing, but you can not denie but it may be a president of emulation hereafter to those that shall succeed you, to expres as much love as you have done to me, and I am sure they may easelie find better subjects. So, if it be unfit in respect of the number (of Dukes that may be created), this way it will be increased; but I mayntaine it’s unfitt in respect there is not here (in Spain), as in other places, a distinction between Duckes’ and Kings’ children, and before I make a gape or a stepe to that paritie between them, I’le disobey you—which is the most I can say or doe. I have not so much unthankfulness to denie what your Majesty sayeth, that my former excus of the disproportion of my estate is taken away, for you have filled a consuming purse, given me faire howses, more land than I am worthie, and to maintain both me and them, filled my coffers as full with patents of honer that my shoulders cannot bare more. This, I say, is a still great argument for me to refuse; but have not bine contented to rest here, when I thought you had done more than enough, and as much as you could; but hath found out a way which, to my heart’s satisfaction, is far above all, for with this letter you have furnished and enriched my cabinett with so precious a witnes of your valuation of me, as in future tymes it cannot be sayde that I rise, as most courtiers doe, through importunitie, for which caracter of me, and incomparable favor from, I will sine (sign) with as contented, nay, as proud a hart, from your poare Steenie, as Duke of Buckingham.”

Meantime, festivities were carried on in Spain which rivalled the most brilliant spectacles witnessed in that age of pageantry, during which chivalric manners and chivalric sports were for the last time seen in England, since they were never revived after the Rebellion.

On Easter Sunday a masque was performed in honour of the strangers. The Queen, clad in white, in remembrance of the Resurrection, and decked in jewels, dined in public, first having duly observed the solemn religious services of the festival.

Prince Charles also dined in public; the gentlemen-tasters, it is especially noted, attended, and the Earl of Bristol gave them the towel.

After vespers, the Court assembled, and the palace was thronged with strangers from the various provinces, all eager to see the “wooer.” Charles was then in the full vigour of his youth; he is depicted by Velasquez, at or about this period, as possessing that bloom which care so early destroys; his face was ever rather interesting and picturesque than handsome; but it may easily be imagined how, set off by the charm of manner, the graces of his person may have been exaggerated by those who now welcomed him as a suitor to the young princess. He had, on this occasion, adopted, for the first time, the Spanish national costume, and was in a black dress, “richly garded,” after the Spanish fashion, with the George about his neck, hanging by a watchet ribbon. “The enamelled garter,” so states the Spanish chroniclers, “exceeded that colour” (the watchet) “in brightness, and his Majesty might as clearly be discerned as a sun amid the stars. This being not the meanest action and demonstration of his prudence, that being a travelling guest, who came by the post, not being able to shine with equal lustre, he came to participate of the Spanish sun.”[464]

Footnote 464:

Narrative of Andres of Mendoza. This tract was entered at
Stationer’s Hall, July 5, 1623. There is a copy in the British
Museum, and also in the Bodleian Library. Only two others are
known.—Nichols, 856.

From this observation it appears that the jewels promised by James had not then arrived. The Prince must, therefore, have acted as a contrast, though not a foil, to King Philip, who was resplendent in a dress of ash colour, with an immense Golden Fleece, and a huge chain, baudrick-wise, around his neck, “robbing,” as the annalist declared, in his girdle, and other jewels, the “glory of Phœbus’ beams;” in his hat he displayed a large waving plume. Then came Buckingham, whom the chroniclers of the day style the Admiral, and Olivares, and they repaired to the Queen’s apartments, where the Infanta, with her Majesty, came out to receive them. At the interview which then took place, Sir Walter Aston acted as interpreter; in that capacity he wished the Queen a happy Easter; the young and blushing Infanta, standing by, received these compliments, which were presumed to come direct from Charles, with a modesty and gravity far beyond her years. Then their Majesties went to the window of the south gallery to see the trial of arms in the Court of the Palace.

The whole beauty, rank, and splendour of Spain were assembled in this gallery, but none were more remarkable for grace, and for the knowledge of the Court, than the Condessa Olivares—whose name was afterwards coupled with Buckingham’s in scandalous terms. She is expressively said to have given “a life to all actions of greatness and courtship.” She was only exceeded in address by her husband, between whom and Buckingham a coolness soon afterwards commenced. A trial of arms, the champions and their attendants being masked, then took place, beginning from the house occupied by Buckingham, near the Royal Hospital of Misericordia, and extending to the palace, upon which were set the cartels of challenge, to which the Marquis de Alcanizas, on the part of the Spaniards, and Buckingham, on that of the English, were respondents.

Buckinghams’s “livery,” on this occasion, was very costly. It consisted of hoods of orange, tawny, and silver cloth, set with flowers and Romaine devices of black cloth, edged with silver in circles, with turbans in Moorish fashion, and white plumes. Two courses were run in the palace-court, the chief masker being the flattered favourite of King James. Amid the gallant throng, four maskers, in Turkish costume, attracted especial notice. One of them was discovered, by the brightness of his hair, and his stateliness in running at the ring, to be the King, who thus testified the honour he wished to pay to Buckingham by joining in the same sport.[465]

Footnote 465:

Nichols, p. 864.

The Bull-fight, or Panaderia, followed the trial of arms, and took place during Pentecost. This cruel diversion had been repeatedly prohibited by Papal bulls, but to no purpose. So common was it to have several men killed during a bull-fight, that priests were always on the spot, ready to confess the dying; and according to Howell, who was present on this occasion, it was not unusual to see a man dangling on each horn of the bull, with his entrails hanging from him.[466]

Footnote 466:

Howell’s Letters.

The bull-fight at which Charles and Buckingham were present, was held on the first of June; and scarcely had the day dawned, when a concourse of nobility rushed to the Panaderia or Bullangerie, as it is called in the old chronicle; where, in the centre of a space encircled by twelve arches of unpolished stone, a gilded scaffolding was erected, the lower part of which was covered with cloth of gold and silver, mingled with crimson. On either side were smaller scaffoldings, divided from the principal one by partitions of crimson cloth, spotted with gold. This erection had only been once used, when the Duc de Maine had visited Madrid for the espousals, by proxy, with Anne of Austria. On the left hand there was a portal by which persons seated on the scaffolding might go in and out of the scaffolding; and on the summit of all were two canopies of Florence cloth, of carnation-colour, interspersed with gold rays, with chairs of cloth of gold and silver underneath them, and hung with rich tapestry. On these various stages stood the nobility of Spain and the Council; whilst, beneath the canopy, their Majesties were seated, the Pope’s Nuncio standing on the right hand, and the several ambassadors on the left. The Corregidores of Madrid, with their eight servants and four lacqueys, in “glorious liveries” of plain black velvet, with embroidered skirts, cloaks of black cloth, and doublets of black lace, and feathers of a colour “which all the place admired and wondered at,” received the Council,—“that high senate,” so writes the chronicler, entering with a wonderful majesty, and so taking their places.

All the ladies of the Court, the nobility and Council and Corregidores, being placed according to degree, the Queen and the Infanta made their appearance, driving to the Panaderia in their coaches. These two Princesses were dressed in dark grey, embroidered with _lentils_ of gold, and wore plumes and jewels in their hair. The Queen’s _carroche_, as it was called in the old language of the day, was followed by numerous other coaches, in which sat the flower of the Court, all ladies of the highest rank, who, how sombre soever the fashion of their dresses, displayed in their equipages the gayest colours, according well with the rich hues which nature, at that season, produced. This procession was escorted by the Alcaldes on horseback, whose troop was augmented by a number of English and Spanish knights, officers, and grandees. As the Queen and Infanta alighted, they were conducted by the captain of the guard, clad “in a brave livery of dark yellow,” and wearing a plume, to their seats.

Amid the escort who did honour to the Queen that day, appeared most conspicuously the then gay and sanguine Charles the First, in the brief may-day of his life. He rode on a parti-coloured horse, curbed with no bit, which seemed, beneath its royal burden, to have laid aside its high spirit, and to submit to the skilful management of the young equestrian. The Prince, it is specified, looked “relucent in black and white plumes;” he accompanied the King, mounted on a dapple grey, also without the bit. Philip wore the dark-coloured suit of his country. Then came Buckingham, with the Condé Olivares, the Master of the Horse, preceding the band of English gentry, and riding with the Council of State and Chamber of Spain.

Having taken their appointed seats, Charles and his countrymen beheld, first, fifty lacqueys in high-Dutch costume of cloth of silver, with caps of wrought silver, follow the Duke de Cea, into the enclosure. Behind the Duke rode the combatants, distinguished by great tawny plumes, and hose of tawny cloth, laced with silver. They were scrupulously alike. Scarcely had this gallant Spanish noble paid his homage to the royal personages present than the Duke de Maqueda, looking, says the enthusiastic chronicler, “like one of the Roman Cæsars,” and followed by many noblemen, attended by a hundred lacqueys in dark-coloured serge, banded with lace, and relieved with silver belts and white garters, rode gallantly into the palace.

Next appeared the Condé de Villamor, with his fifty lacqueys in white printed satin, with doublets of azure, silk, and gold, set out with tufts of gold and silver lace, with white plumes on their hats; and amid this gorgeous throng, on a chestnut horse, rode the Condé, his horse’s main and tail being drawn out with silver twist, “surpassing even the horses of Phœbus’ chariot.” Such was the waving of feathers, that it was, says the beholder, like “a moving garden, or an army of Indians.”

And now came the two combatants—Gaviria and Bonifaz; or, as they were called, Kill-bulls. They, too, had their lacqueys—Bonifaz in white plumes, whilst those of Gaviria were distinguished by dark green suits. Lastly, appeared the Cavalier de la Morzilla, who came to “try his fortune with lance and target.”