The result of the Cabal’s administration was an unchristian war with Holland and an imprudent league with France. Protestant England had put herself on the side of Catholic France against a country which, entirely Protestant, should have been an ally. The King had been traitorously ensnared by pernicious practices.
Charles remained aloof. He could not disclose the clauses of the secret Treaty of Dover; he could not come to the rescue of his politicians by explaining that it had been necessary at one time to accept bribes from France in order to save England from bankruptcy. That clause in the treaty, referring to his conversion to Catholicism to be proclaimed at an appropriate moment, meant that it must never be disclosed while he lived.
If he attempted to defend his ministers, he could plunge his country into disaster.
He could only look on with the melancholy smile which came to his lips at times such as these, and await results. He could not regret the replacement of Clifford by Danby; Danby, juggling with figures, was beginning to balance accounts as they never had been balanced before.
So Lauderdale was indicted; Arlington followed; and Buckingham’s turn came.
He was called to defend himself, which he did in person and, as ever being unable to control his tongue, answered questions put to him in his jaunty, witty, and fearless way. He spoke long of the misfortunes which had occurred during his administration of the Cabal, but declared that he felt it his duty to remind the assembly that this was not so much due to the administration as to those in authority over it.
He could not resist adding: “I can hunt the hare with a pack of hounds, gentlemen, but not with a brace of lobsters.”
As this last epithet was flung at the King and the Duke of York, it was hardly likely that the reckless Buckingham would receive much sympathy in the only quarter from which at this time he could have hoped for it. Yet it was typical of the Duke that he would fling away years of ambition and all his bright hopes for the future for the sake of giving his tongue full play.
The result of this investigation was that Buckingham was dismissed, and the people clamored for peace with Holland. The clever young Prince of Holland asked for the hand of Mary, eldest daughter of the Duke of York, who, should the King and his brother fail to produce further offspring, would one day inherit the crown.
Louise was flung into a panic by this suggestion. She knew that she must exert all her influence with Charles to have it quashed. Louis would consider she had indeed failed in her duty if there was a marriage between Holland and England.
She talked to Charles. He was noncommittal. Easygoing as he always was, he was quick to sense the temper of the people. And the dissatisfaction with the Cabal had given rise to much murmuring among the people who knew that the King was involved, even as were his ministers. Charles wished to please those he favored, but not to the extent of angering his people against him.
Terrified that she would cease to find favor with Charles, picturing Louis’ indifference if she returned humiliated to France, Louise turned in panic to Danby. She was ready to do anything—just anything—for a strong man who would help her hold her position at this difficult time.
Buckingham’s health collapsed rapidly. He suffered, said his doctors, more from fever of the mind than of the body.
Louise, watching, knew that the Duke had too many enemies for her to worry greatly about bringing about his downfall. Moreover she had more immediate troubles of her own.
A few days after he had suffered his ordeal and while he was a very sick man, the guardians of the fifteen-year-old son of Anna Shrewsbury arranged that the boy should bring a charge against Buckingham of the murder of his father and the public debauchery of his mother.
As the death of Shrewsbury had occurred six years before, and almost every man at Court was living in open adultery, this was dearly yet another of his enemies’ moves to destroy the Duke.
He was aware that temporarily he was a defeated man, and he obtained absolution from the House of Lords only on paying a heavy fine, and promising never to cohabit with Lady Shrewsbury again.
The greatest of his troubles then was the knowledge that, now he was a defeated man, Anna Shrewsbury was finished with him. She had been faithful to him for many years, and had even been known as the Duchess of Buckingham, while Buckingham’s wife had been called the Dowager-Duchess. Their relationship had seemed as though it would go on forever.
Now he knew that she too had deserted him—for had she not done so, nothing would have kept her away from him nor him from her—he was as low as he had ever been. Charles, no doubt finding it impossible to forgive the reckless Duke for referring to him and his brother publicly as lobsters, deprived him of the Mastership of the Horse. There was one waiting to receive it whose handsome looks would well become it: the Duke of Monmouth.
So Buckingham retired from Court. But his exuberant spirits would not let him stay long in exile. Little Lord Shaftesbury (who as Ashley had been a member of the Cabal and was now the leading light of the Opposition and secretly intriguing to legitimize Monmouth) made friendly advances; and Buckingham was already planning his return.
Louise had not betrayed by one glance how delighted she was in the Duke’s misfortune.
But Nell knew it—although she knew nothing of politics—and decided that, since Louise was the enemy of the fallen Buckingham, she would be his friend.
SEVEN
Nell was a little sad at the beginning of that year. She had seen the disgrace of my lord Buckingham who had seemed such a brilliant ornament at the Court, and although she never really gave her mind to politics, she knew that even if Louise had not brought this about, she had had a hand in it. She was aware too of the growing friendship between the Lord Treasurer, the Earl of Danby, and Louise. Nell firmly believed that, while these two held their present positions, she would remain Madam Gwyn and never become a countess; and, what was more important, her two little boys would never be anything but Charles and James Beauclerk.
It was true that recently Charles had given her five hundred pounds for new hangings in her house, but even in this there was some cause for sadness. Charles was graciously apologizing for spending so little time with her.
She was not poor, but she realized that, compared with the establishments of Barbara in her heyday and Louise at present, her home was a comparatively humble one. Nell had never learned thrift, and money slipped through her hands. She was over-generous and never refused loans or alms. She had eight servants to feed, as well as her mother, herself, and her two sons. Rose’s husband, Captain Cassels, had been killed while fighting with his regiment in Holland, and there was Rose to help along.
She had her own Sedan chair, and of course she must have her French coach; six horses were needed to draw it, and bills came in for oats and hay. She liked to have people around her and was a lavish hostess.
Nell’s mother needed medicines from the apothecaries for her constant complaints, and Nell was continually paying for ointments and cordials, plague-water and clysters. The children were in need of sugar candy, pectoral syrup, and plasters. Charles was a healthy little boy; James was almost as healthy; but they suffered from the usual childish ailments and Nell was determined that they were both going to live to hold as great titles as any held by Louise’s or Barbara’s brats.
Nell had always loved the theater; she attended frequently, and the King’s mistress must have one of the best seats. She was a gambler at heart and she enjoyed a flutter either on horses or gamecocks. Mr. Groundes, her steward, remonstrated with her but, as Nell said: “If I cannot pay for my fancies, then must the bills be passed on to Mr. Chaffinch.”