Images de page
PDF
ePub

II.

IN WHAT WAY BUCKINGHAM WAS HUMILIATED BY OLIVAREZ.

NEXT day, at the hour appointed, Charles, attended by Buckingham and the two ambassadors, repaired to the council-chamber. Philip had not yet arrived, but the members of the councilall nobles of the highest rank with the Conde de Olivarez, had assembled. With the exception of the Conde de Gondomar, they all manifested great surprise on seeing Buckingham enter with the prince, and the Conde-Duque received him with constrained courtesy. Buckingham, however, did not manifest the slightest embarrassment at the reception accorded him, but comported himself with his customary arrogance.

Ere many minutes the king made his appearance, and after saluting Charles with his wonted cordiality, turned to Buckingham, whose obeisance he had not deigned to notice, and said, coldly:

"I did not expect to find your grace here."

"My presence appeared indispensable, sire," rejoined Buckingham, "as I understood that certain new articles connected with the marriage-treaty were to be discussed."

"I could not have attended without the duke, sire," said Charles.

"I should have thought your highness might have fully confided in the wisdom and experience of the Earl of Bristol," said Philip, scarcely able to conceal his displeasure. "Since the Duke of Buckingham has taken part in these consultations, frequent disputes and interruptions have occurred, which I hoped might be avoided on the present occasion."

"Sire," said Buckingham, "I trust I shall not offend your majesty if I say that I have a right to be present at these councils."

"Ha! since your grace takes that tone," said Philip, sharply, "I must inquire by what title you claim to be admitted to the meetings?"

" I claim it, sire, as the guardian and adviser of his highness the Prince of Wales," replied Buckingham, proudly, "who has been entrusted to me by his royal father. I claim it also as first minister of the English cabinet, without whose full approval this marriage-treaty cannot be concluded. And let me state at once, in order to save time and prevent disputes, which I dislike as much as your majesty, that I object to add any new articles to the treaty, and, on the prince's part, decline to discuss them. The treaty must be taken as it stands. If additions are constantly to be made to it, it can never be completed."

"Hold, my lord duke! you proceed too fast," interposed Olivarez. "We cannot submit to dictation, especially from one who has no right to a seat in our councils. Had the Earl of Bristol objected to these articles, we should have listened to him with re spect, but you have no title whatever to a hearing. If you have a commission from his majesty King James, produce it. If you have credentials from the English council, lay them before us. But if you have neither commission nor credentials, be silent."

"Why was not this demand made before, my lord?" said Buckingham. "I have attended many councils without exception being taken to my presence."

"Consideration for his highness the prince has induced us thus far to tolerate your interference, my lord duke," rejoined Olivarez; "but our patience is now exhausted. In the Earl of Bristol and Sir Walter Aston his highness has able and judicious counsellors, in whom he may confide. He can dispense with your grace."

"Then my place is no longer here," said Buckingham, making a movement to depart, and glancing at the prince as if he expected him to withdraw likewise.

But Charles took no notice of the signal.

"A moment, my lord duke," said Philip, in a tone that recalled the haughty favourite to his senses, and made him sensible of his indiscretion; "a word, before you quit our presence-never to reenter it. Your appearance at our councils has been irregular and unwarranted, and we have brooked language from you to which we are wholly unaccustomed, but we have borne it out of love to the prince. Now, mark well what I say. You yourself are the main hindrance to the fulfilment of the proposed alliance between the Infanta and the Prince of Wales. Even if every other obstacle were removed, and all we could desire agreed to, the position you occupy in regard to his highness would present an insurmountable difficulty."

"How so, sire?" demanded Buckingham.

"Your influence over the prince would be prejudicial to my sister," replied Philip. "I cannot expose her to the risk." "We entirely approve of your majesty's determination," said the whole of the council, with the exception of Gondomar.

"Sire," exclaimed Buckingham, "I know not why your majesty has conceived this ill opinion of me, nor can I do more than conjecture who has poisoned your mind, but this I know, that the Infanta should the prince be fortunate enough to obtain her hand-will not have a servant more faithful and devoted than myself. Thus much I dare avouch, and I will maintain it with my life, that not one of your grandees-not even the CondeDuque could serve her more faithfully than I would. The prince, who knows my sentiments, will confirm what I say. In retiring from your councils, in which, it appears, I have improperly

intruded, I must entreat your majesty's forgiveness, and the forgiveness of these noble lords, for any hasty expressions I have used. I should indeed regret it, if I could be supposed wanting in due respect to your majesty, or in consideration to them."

"Sire," said Charles, rising, and speaking with great dignity, "it would be grievous at this juncture, when there is every prospect of the negotiation being speedily concluded, that an interruption should occur. I am certain that his grace of Buckingham, as indeed he has assured your majesty, is sensible that he has been far too hasty, and that he will not so offend again, if he be permitted to occupy a place in the councils. As to the apprehension which your majesty has expressed in regard to the Infanta, I can without hesitation declare it to be groundless. The Duke of Buckingham would be utterly unworthy of the favour he enjoys from the king, my father-he would be utterly unworthy of my favour, if he could be other than a devoted servant of the Infanta. Unhappily, in arranging this treaty, religious questions have been chiefly discussed, and these discussions have not always been conducted, on the duke's part, with befitting temper, but I trust all difficulties may now be reconciled, so that no further disputes can arise. We will make every concession possible, and your majesty will not ask more than we can fairly yield."

"I trust we may come to an entire agreement, prince," said the king, with a certain significance. "The Duke of Buckingham must now be convinced that the violent opposition he has hitherto offered is injudicious and injurious; and in the persuasion that he will henceforward adopt a different course, we will overlook what has passed, and waive the objections that have been raised to his remaining in the council."

At this intimation of his majesty's pleasure, the whole of the council arose and bowed in assent. Buckingham threw himself on his knee before the king, and while kissing the hand graciously extended to him, protested unalterable devotion to his majesty and the Infanta.

As he arose and took the seat he had heretofore occupied at the council-table, and which was on the right of Charles, Olivarez observed, in a low tone to the king, "Your majesty has gained your point. He will no longer oppose the prince's conversion."

" I think not," replied Philip, in the same tone.

If they could have seen into Buckingham's heart, they would have thought otherwise. At that very moment he was meditating revenge for the humiliation he had undergone.

"I will break in pieces the fabric I have put together with so "The match shall never

much trouble," he mentally ejaculated. take place."

III.

AN EVIL OMEN.

WELL knowing that any attempt to induce the prince suddenly to break off the match would be vain, Buckingham carefully concealed his design, and feigned to be as well disposed towards the alliance as ever.

If Charles's mind had been at ease, and if he had been allowed a certain intercourse with the Infanta, his prolonged stay at Madrid would have been delightful to him. But the uncertainty in which he was kept, the dissimulation he was compelled to practise, and the arts that were used to ensnare him, interfered with his enjoyment. The grand festivities which had celebrated his arrival had long since ceased, but everything that regal hospitality could devise was done to render his residence at the palace agreeable.

One circumstance, trifling enough in itself, confirmed him in his opinion that whatever difficulties he might encounter, he should eventually succeed in the object of his expedition.

It may be remembered, that on the morning after his arrival a snow-white dove alighted at the window of his chamber in the House of Seven Chimneys. Singular to relate, when he took up his abode at the royal palace, the dove followed him thither, constantly appearing each morning at the same hour, and if the window was open, as was generally the case, it entered the room and flew towards the prince's couch. So fond did he become of his little visitor, that if it had failed to appear he would have been miserable. The dove fed out of his hand, and allowed him to caress it.

Charles could not fail to mention the circumstance to the Infanta, who was greatly interested by the relation, and expressed a desire to see the dove, whereupon Charles caused the bird to be conveyed to her.

Next morning the dove appeared as usual, and flying towards the prince's couch, evidently sought to attract his attention. Charles then remarked that a blue silken thread was tied round its neck, and on further investigation discovered that a tress of light golden hair was hidden beneath the bird's wing. He could not doubt to whom he owed the gift, and pressed it rapturously to his lips. Satisfied that he had now found a means of secret correspondence with his mistress, and determined to make trial of the dove's fidelity, he sought for a little diamond anchor which he had designed to present to the Infanta, and securing it in the same manner as the tress, carried the dove to the window, and cast it forth.

Charles watched the bird in its flight, and saw that it entered a window in the palace which he knew opened upon the Infanta's apartments.

In less than half an hour the little messenger returned, having accomplished its mission, and seemingly proud of the feat. The diamond anchor was gone, but in its place was the fragment of a kerchief, evidently just torn off, and embroidered with the letter "M," proving from whom it came.

Many a brief but tender missive was subsequently despatched by Charles to his mistress, but though the dove failed not to convey them, the prince received none in reply. Sometimes the Infanta would send her lover a flower, or other little token, but she only wrote once.

Only once! And it shall now be told how that note reached Charles.

rose.

He had been more than six months at the palace, and during the whole of that time the dove had never failed to greet him as he One morning he missed his little visitant, and the circumstance filled him with sad forebodings, for it occurred at a period when fresh obstacles had arisen to the match. For the last few days he had not seen the Infanta, who was staying at the time at the summer palace of El Buen Retiro.

When Charles awoke on the following morning, he glanced anxiously towards the open casement in the hope of beholding the dove, but it was not to be seen in the spot where it had been accustomed to alight. The same forebodings of ill which he had experienced on the previous day, assailed the prince, but with greater force. He sought to banish them by slumber, but he could not sleep, and as he raised himself in his couch, he perceived a white object lying on the floor near the window.

Springing from his couch, he flew to the spot, and then saw what had happened. The dove had been struck by a hawk, but, though mortally hurt, had escaped its pursuer, who had not dared to follow it into the room. It had fallen, as we have said, just within the casement, and was still beating the floor feebly with outspread wings. Its snowy plumage was dabbled with blood.

The wounded bird fluttered slightly in the prince's grasp as he took it gently up. But with that faint struggle all was over. The little heart had ceased to beat the faithful messenger could serve him no more. A sharp pang shot through the prince's heart as he gazed at the dead bird, and he now more than ever regarded the event as an evil omen.

"So, thou art gone, poor bird!" he ejaculated-"thou, who wert first to welcome me to this city, and hast ever since been my daily solace. In thought I have ever connected thee with her I love, and with my hopes of winning her, and now thou art stricken down. Poor bird, I shall miss thee sorely!"

« PrécédentContinuer »