The Great Roxhythe · Book II · Chapter 2 2 (1/2)

II

The Offer

James, Duke of York, sat at the table drumming on it with restless fingers. Charles, the King, lolled as usual on the window-seat, playing with one of his spaniels. Sir Thomas Clifford, Chancellor, sat stiffly by the fire and looked ill-at-ease, which indeed he was. There was silence save for the yapping of the spaniel.

Presently the Duke pushed back his chair.

“Will the man never come?” he said.

Charles did not raise his eyes. Sir Thomas glanced at the clock.

“It⁠—it wants ten minutes to the hour, sir,” he said propitiatingly.

James shrugged impatiently. He looked over at his brother. The spaniel’s yapping jarred on him.

“Is Lord Roxhythe not expected until three, Sir?” he asked.

“No,” answered the King.

“Would it not have been better to have seen him before M. Colbert?” James did not conceal his impatience well.

“Wherefore?”

Charles yawned.

Quick footsteps came along the passage.

“Perhaps this is he?” hazarded Clifford.

“My Lord Roxhythe never hurries,” sneered James. “This is M. Colbert.”

The French ambassador entered, and cast a swift glance round the room. He swept a bow to the King.

“Sire!” He turned. “Altesse!” He turned again. “Sir Thomas!”

Charles nodded easily.

“Pray sit down, monsieur. We are delighted to see you.”

James rose jerkily and went forward.

“You are very punctual, M. Colbert. Will you take this chair? We still lack Lord Roxhythe.”

“It still wants three minutes to the hour, sir,” remarked Clifford.

“No doubt ye have heard from His French Majesty?” asked James, ignoring the interruption.

Colbert bowed.

“A plaguey damp day, eh, monsieur?” drawled the King.

The Frenchman’s dark eyes twinkled.

“As Your Majesty says,” he agreed.

“You don’t have such weather in your country,” went on Charles. “ ’Tis a fortunate land.”

The Duke shut his eyes, exasperated. Charles glanced at the clock.

“The hour,” he said. “And⁠—I think⁠—Roxhythe.”

The three other men turned to look at the door.

It opened. Mr. Chiffinch, the King’s confidential page, announced my Lord Roxhythe and my lord came in unhurriedly.

His chestnut wig was nicely curled, and hung down over his shoulders; his dress was carefully chosen. In one hand he carried his hat; in the other, his comfit-box and cane. His calm, rather ironic eyes travelled slowly round the room, and came to rest on the King. He made a very low bow. Then he made another which included all the room.

The Duke of York’s brows drew closer together.

“Davy,” sighed the King. “You are punctuality personified! How a-God’s name, do you manage it?”

“I really don’t know, Sir,” said Roxhythe. “I believe it must be a habit.”

“A vice,” answered Charles, mournfully. “One which I do not possess. I think you know M. Colbert?”

“I have that honour,” bowed Roxhythe.

“Then I need present nobody,” said the King. “How very fortunate! Oh, sit down, Davy! sit down!” He waved him to a chair.

Roxhythe sat down and crossed one leg over the other. He looked expectant.

Charles sighed.

“Proceed, gentlemen,” he counselled them, stroking his dog’s head.

“Do you wish me to⁠—conduct the conversation, Sir?” asked James bluntly.

“Pray do!” begged the King.

James turned to the Frenchman.

“M. Colbert, you advised His Majesty some time since that you had certain propositions to lay before him, coming from King Louis. For the sake of these other gentlemen, will you be good enough to repeat them?” He sat back in his chair, his eyes keen and alert.

M. Colbert twisted one of his rings round.

“But certainly, m’sieu’. It comes to my master’s ears that King Charles was not quite at one with his Cabinet over the Dutch Alliance. He is relieved, naturellement, for he has always been King Charles’ very good friend and cousin. He feared once that the alliance might lead to war between England and France⁠—oh, ridiculous, of course! but there was a chance of such a thing⁠—and he would be loth to fight one whom he wishes so well. Of course. He knows that there are in England, many Catholic gentlemen⁠ ⁠…” he bowed to Clifford. “… of whom Sir Thomas is one. The interests of the Church are his, as they are of every good Catholic⁠ ⁠…” he bowed to James. “… he is desirous of seeing England return to the old Faith. He believes, too, that King Charles would give much to see this.”

King Charles twisted the spaniel’s ears above its head, and eyed the effect pensively.

“He realizes, however, that it is not an easy matter for King Charles to drive the true Faith into his country⁠—without assistance. But for such a cause⁠—a cause that is ever nearest his heart⁠—His Majesty would readily lend assistance.

“There is also another side, messieurs. For many years England and France have been enemies. His Majesty desires that this shall be so no longer. He would make a compact with England that should seal forever the friendship of two countries that lie at each other’s doors⁠—two countries that are the most powerful in the world. He thinks it more than a pity that such countries should be at enmity, as must be the case if England allies herself with the Provinces.

“His Majesty knows that, together, England and France are all-powerful. Together they might do aught they pleased. It might be thought, messieurs, that His Majesty would be desirous of annexing England for his own. Such could never be the case. His Majesty would never interfere with England save at England’s wish. It might be thought that he would desire England to pay him tribute. He does not. If it should be that France makes war, he would want England to join her, should he call for help. He would share with King Charles, not the expenses, which he would pay himself, but the profits of war. He would hold himself bound to come to England’s aid if ever she should call, exacting naught in payment, messieurs, save a share in the profits. More than that even would he be prepared to do: he would bear all the expenses of any war of his making, and a large share of the expenses of a war on England’s side. You must agree, messieurs, that His Majesty is generous.”

Clifford moved, turning his head.

“To what ends, monsieur?”

“To the end, Sir Thomas, that he may prove himself England’s friend, and the Church’s friend.”

Clifford pursed his lips.

“If this be so, His Majesty is indeed generous,” he said.

The Frenchman inclined his head.

“There is another private matter,” he pursued, more slowly. “His Majesty apprehends that King Charles finds it difficult to live as should live a Monarch of his degree.” He turned to Charles. “Your Majesty will forgive me if I speak too plainly.”

Charles nodded casually.

“I thank Your Majesty. King Louis, I say, knows this. During the years of his exile, King Charles his purse was very surely drained, as was natural, in his efforts to come back to an ungrateful people. The many grievous losses that he sustained could not be repaid to him in full. His Majesty, my master, hath a great regard for his cousin; it grieves him to see King Charles in any way pressed for money. He, King Louis, has not had to bear such drains on his private purse, and he is, as you, messieurs, no doubt know, moderately wealthy. Because of this love which he bears King Charles, he is anxious to supply him with means wherewith to live as he should. He knows that King Charles is too noble, too kindly a man to tax his people as did⁠—forgive me, Sire⁠—his father. He thinks it little less than shameful that by reason of this true nobility of mind King Charles should be in want. Quite privately he would desire to make King Charles an allowance. This he could not do, as you must realize, messieurs, if England were at enmity with France. But this private matter has naught to do with the other matter of which I have already spoken. It is a gift from one cousin to another, if King Charles will have it so, and not deem himself insulted by King Louis his offer.”

There was a long pause.

Roxhythe played idly with the tassels of his glove, his face inscrutable. James was looking at Clifford, who sat staring into the fire.

“It is for you, Sir Thomas, to speak,” said the Duke at last.

Clifford raised his head. He spoke bluntly.

“M. Colbert, King Louis his offer would appear to be generous to an extreme. Yet this offer of money to His Majesty savours too much of bribery for my liking.”

The Duke of York stiffened. Over M. Colbert’s face came a look of pained surprise. Roxhythe stopped playing with his gloves. Only Charles paid no heed.

“Sir Thomas, I am sure you cannot realize that such a suggestion is little less than an insult to His Majesty!” said James harshly.

“And to my master,” came haughtily from Colbert.

“I crave His Majesty’s pardon if I offended,” answered Clifford, red to the ears. “But I still say that the offer has that appearance.”

James was about to reply, but with a deprecating smile Colbert forestalled him.

“You are perfectly right, Sir Thomas. To an evil-thinking world that to no man accords the desire to do good for goodness’ sake alone, King Louis’ entirely disinterested offer smacks of bribery. It is for this reason that he would wish the matter kept secret. He expects to gain nothing by this offer. It is made out of his love for King Charles, not from any desire of gain for himself. He could not, of course, voice such a proposal were England and France at disagreement. I have given you his reasons for wishing their friendship; this private offer to King Charles is no part of it. It has naught to do with the State; it is between man and man. Yet His Majesty foresaw that the public, who, being low-minded, credit all others with their same motives, would cry shame to King Charles for accepting a bribe. The muck and run of men, Sir Thomas, will not believe that a man can be generous, hoping to gain nothing by his generosity. I had not judged you to be of this class; I still do not. I know that you spoke in the heat of the moment, not giving yourself time to reflect. Had you done so, you would have seen how wrong⁠—pardon me⁠—how base were your suspicions.”

Clifford met his reproachful look, and stammered hopelessly.

“His Majesty knows⁠—that I⁠—that you⁠—that I meant no offence⁠—by what I said. Perhaps⁠—that is, of course, I spoke heatedly. I would not accuse King Louis⁠—of⁠—of descending to⁠—bribery. I could not think that His Majesty⁠—” he cast a flurried glance at Charles, “⁠—would countenance a⁠—a bribe. I⁠—I but said it savoured of that, as⁠—as I think it does, sir!”

“It is for that reason that the matter should be kept secret, Sir Thomas. I confess, if I had thought you would take this tone I had not mentioned the matter to you. Knowing you to be an upright man, I had hardly expected you to impute dishonourable motives to others.”

Sir Thomas collapsed.

“Sir, you misunderstand me! I⁠—I meant no rudeness to His Majesty! I⁠—” he floundered hopelessly and stopped.

M. Colbert wiped his lips with a delicately laced handkerchief.

“I am much relieved to hear you say so, Sir Thomas. May I now go on to my next point?”

The Duke nodded shortly.

“It is this: His Majesty is fully alive to the fact that there are in your English Cabinet many honest gentlemen who are yet very stubborn and narrow. They, like many other ignorant people, are averse from dealing with France. They are Protestants, messieurs. They may be drawn to the right way of looking at a French alliance, but at present they will not listen to reason. Once it was proved to them that France desired nothing but friendship from England, their objections would fade. They would see that an alliance with France was for their country’s good. In holding away from it they, all unwittingly, work great harm on England. They cannot be brought round at present, but is it to be permitted that they should do England this great wrong? They have proved stubborn; they have showed that they will not listen to argument. Shall they not then be ignored? They would raise an outcry; they would prevail upon the ignorance of the people; they would prevent an alliance. Then they must know naught until the thing is done, when they will soon see that it is not a great evil, but a great good.”

“You mean a secret treaty?” asked Clifford blankly.

“Secret only for the moment,” promptly replied Colbert. “Think on what I have said, monsieur, and tell me if this great thing for England is to be quenched by a party of dogged Protestants.”

“I do see the truth in what you say, sir, but there are many points against it.”

“Will you not name them, Sir Thomas?”

“The first and foremost of them is this, sir: what you propose is no less than a violation of the Triple Alliance, whereby we bound ourselves to stand by Holland against France if need be. Your proposal is a treaty with an enemy country made behind the backs of the rest of the Cabinet. It likes me not.”

“It is true that we ignore these ignorant gentlemen. But have I not proved to you that it is for England’s good? Do you value these gentlemen’s feelings above your country?”

“Not I, sir. But I had sooner that they were made cognizant of the affair.”

“So they might hold lengthy debates, raise an outcry, and howl it down? You must see that it is impossible. They will realize afterwards that it is for their country’s good.”

Clifford spoke sarcastically now.

“Not if you seek to force Catholicism down their throats, sir.”

James frowned, biting his lip. Colbert waved his hand expressively.

“You do not credit my master with much perspicacity if you do not realize that he has foreseen that, Sir Thomas. He is not an impetuous man. He sees that the introduction⁠—rather, I should say, the furtherance⁠—of Catholicism in England must be brought about slowly, and with great care. He has no mind to raise a hubbub. He has no mind to ‘force’ the Faith into England. He even sees that it cannot be as yet. He is content to wait until King Charles calls to him. If King Charles finds it not necessary to call, he will be the more thankful. He wants not to interfere in another man’s country. Very earnestly does he counsel King Charles not to hasten this great work to its undoing. The time is not yet.”

James stirred restlessly, and seemed about to speak. Then he checked himself.

After a short pause Colbert continued.

“I would not ask you to give a hasty decision, Sir Thomas. I ask you to think over all I have said before you speak.”

“I shall most certainly do so,” said Clifford. “I cannot but see that there are great points in favour of this plan, but, as I have told you, there are points which like me not. But I will think on it. Is there⁠—anything further?”

“At present, nothing, sir.”

“Then⁠ ⁠… ?” Sir Thomas looked hesitatingly at the King. “Have I Your Majesty’s leave to withdraw?” He rose as he spoke. So did Colbert. So also did Charles and Roxhythe.

“I too,” said the Frenchman.

Charles nodded. He spoke for the first time since the beginning of the interview.

“We have to thank you, M. Colbert, for your patience. We will speak on this more fully later on. We will not keep you.”

Colbert bowed over his hand and went out.

Charles turned to Clifford. His wonderful smile dawned.

“You will think me seriously on this, Sir Thomas? And you’ll not believe ill of your poor King?”

“Sire!” Clifford caught his hand, kissing it. “I crave Your Majesty’s pardon again and again.”

“Why, there is naught to forgive,” said Charles gently. “I but ask that you’ll not think evil of me.”

“I could not, Sir! I⁠—I⁠—” Clifford kissed his hand again. “I spoke in heat.”

“Then that is very well,” smiled Charles. He watched him leave the room, smiling.

“M. Colbert⁠—speaks you very fair, Sir,” said James.

Charles regarded him thoughtfully, his eyes alight with laughter. He shifted the dog under his arm.

“Damned plausible, a’n’t he?” he chuckled, and walked slowly back to his seat.

The Duke watched him uneasily. Roxhythe continued to play with his gloves.

“You don’t believe in the French King’s offer, Sir?” asked James abruptly.