One half the world does not know how the other half live, is an old English proverb, and a true one; but there is something more to be said upon the subject than even that,--not one-millionth part of the world know what the rest are doing. Happy were it for them if they did; for how many a base and criminal design would be frustrated; how many an anxious and careful thought would be avoided; how many a wise and prudent scheme would find success; how many a good man, struggling with poverty, would meet relief and honour; how many a great man, crushed under the cold obstruction of circumstances, would be taken by the hand, and led up to the high places of the world, if the actions of all were open to the eyes of all!

The days passed sweetly with Arabella Stuart and William Seymour, for the time during which the Countess of Shrewsbury permitted him to stay. They laid out their plans; they made their arrangements; they talked over the future; and imagination, that pleasant painter, represented the coming days in all the glittering colours of hope and light. Even when he had left Malvoisie, and was deprived of the society of her he loved, still the sweet recollection and the bright expectation gladdened the present, and cheered him while he made all the preparations which were necessary for the execution of his scheme. But, in the meantime, the views and designs of others, with little, if any reference to himself, were proceeding on a course calculated to frustrate all his hopes for a time, if not for ever; and while he, in total ignorance that such things were taking place, was rejoicing at the near approach of happiness, a hand was stretched out to snatch it from him, just as the cup was being raised to his lip. Oh! could he but have seen the events that were occurring at the Court of England; could he have heard the words that were spoken, and divined the plans that were formed, he might have found matter for anxiety and apprehension, it is true, but love would certainly have found some stratagem to frustrate those purposes, which now marched calmly on to their accomplishment.

We nave said that the designs and views of which we have spoken had little direct reference to Seymour, and to the schemes for his escape with Arabella. The eyes of the King and his courtiers had been completely blinded by the precautions he had taken; his visit to Malvoisie had not been even whispered amongst the scandal-mongers of the Court; and although the preparations which he had been making after his return to London were not altogether unnoticed, the tongue of calumny had assigned to them a very different motive from the real one, and most unintentionally favoured his purposes, by screening the truth under a falsehood. The suspicion which had been so strongly entertained of the attachment existing between Arabella and himself had almost altogether died away; and rumour had falsely attributed to him some tender connexion in the native land of intrigue--Italy, which was supposed to be once more leading him away from the shores of his own country.

In the meantime, the King's favourite, Rochester, was pursuing, with all the vehemence of strong and overpowering passion, the guilty course which he had entered upon with the beautiful fiend who had got him in her toils. His criminal intimacy with Lady Essex was no longer whispered with a smile, or pointed at in an epigram. It was the open talk of the whole Court, the subject of grave and painful reprehension to the few good and wise who were admitted to the royal circle, and of laughter and merriment to the gay, the unthinking, and vicious multitude which thronged the palaces of James I.

To one of those, however, who could not be classed amongst the most strict in their notions of morality, his open and daring violation of even common decency was a subject of bitter and anxious thought. Sir Thomas Overbury could not shut out the conviction, that this disgraceful connexion might prove a serious obstacle in the way of his favourite project, of allying his patron to the Blood Royal of England by a marriage with Arabella Stuart; and every jest he heard upon the subject came painfully to his ear. Sometimes he thanked heaven that Arabella was absent, and hoped that Rochester's passion would be as short-lived as it was fierce; but when he saw that, on the contrary, it became every day more and more ardent and outrageous, he asked himself if it might not be better to hurry on the marriage with Arabella without any farther delay; and, by engaging the King to exercise his full authority, to carry it through as rapidly as possible, in order to bind her for ever to Rochester, before she had such good cause to allege for refusing him her hand.

Doubts and perplexities, indeed, surrounded him; for although Carr still talked to him on the subject of his marriage, and, in order to blind his friends to the designs which he knew Overbury would oppose, affected to look upon his union with Arabella, whether he loved her or not, as a thing absolutely necessary to his security and advancement, yet he showed himself occasionally cold and captious, reserved and insincere, towards one who, for a long period, had possessed his fullest confidence, and guided him at will.

Many a deep and anxious fit of thought did all these considerations cause Sir Thomas Overbury; and he resolved, after a long deliberation, to try whether, by art, he could not establish a new hold upon the favourite, more firm and tenacious than that of mere gratitude.

"I must have some power over him," he said; "I must have something in my hands to give, in order that I may demand that in return which might be otherwise denied, notwithstanding all the services I have rendered him."

Such were his thoughts and feelings at the period when the Court removed from Hampton; and we shall now proceed to show the manner in which he endeavoured to effect his object, premising that for some months he had been labouring to bring the King's mind to the particular tone he wanted.

It was in the King's closet at the palace of Greenwich. The Monarch was dressed in hunting costume; and, as the season was rapidly approaching when he could no longer venture to hunt the hart, he was somewhat eager and impatient to set out upon his sport.

Something, however, had gone wrong in the stables; his horse had not been brought to the door at which he was to mount; and he had sent one after another, first a page, then a gentleman of the Privy Chamber, and then Lord Rochester himself, to see what had become of the grooms and huntsmen, upon whose heads he bestowed a torrent of condemnation, in very profane and unkingly language.

To ordinary observers it would have appeared that a more unpropitious moment could not have been selected for pressing a suit or asking a favour; but Sir Thomas Overbury knew King James as well as any one who was about him, and was aware that requests, which he would have denied flatly and resolutely when he had time for consideration, might often be wrung from him by importunity, in a moment of impatience and haste. The moment, then, that he saw Lord Rochester pass through the antechamber, he hurried to the King,--whom he knew to be now alone,--with a small slip of paper in hand half covered with writing.

"Well, sir, well, where are the horses?" cried James, as soon as he saw him. "Those heathen fellows will let the fresh of the morning go by; and the sun's peeping out as hot as a kitchen fire, to drink up all the dew off the grass."

"I think they mistook the hour your Majesty named," replied Overbury, "and, instead of a quarter before, made ready for a quarter after nine."

"Body o' sin! did you ever hear the like of that?" cried James; "did they never go out to track a stag in the early morning? What have you got there? But if that's a supplication, man, you may as well spare your pains.--I'll have nothing to do with it.--Take it away."

"It is not a supplication, may it please your Majesty," replied Overbury, "but a paper which your Majesty was pleased to say you would sign. You may remember the matter in which I moved you, sire, regarding my Lord Rochester and my Lady Arabella."

"I'll not sign it, sir, I'll not sign it," cried the King, "I told you so before. She's got a hankering, sir, after that fellow Seymour, and I'll not sign it. If I was sure she would use it only to marry Carro, I don't say but that I might. But I will not have the other! Now look ye, young gentleman," he added, falling, imperceptibly to himself, into a disquisitional tone, "you are not without sense, and good parts, and judgment; and, while we have a minute to spare, we will condescend to instruct you as to our motives, which with kings--who are bound to exercise their sagacity upon fine points, that altogether escape the attention of ordinary men--are very different from the common motives of the people, or even of councillors, and men accustomed to broad and general state affairs."

"I hear your Majesty with reverence and gratitude," replied Sir Thomas Overbury, in the fulsome style then used towards the Monarch, "and will lay to heart every word that falls from your lips, as the most precious guide to wisdom."

"Well, sir, that's right," rejoined James. "Now listen, then. Ordinary men will think--and, most like, you amongst them--that it is a strange thing that I should let this lady wed Rochester, and refuse her to the fellow Seymour. The vulgar people will think that it is because Rochester is, what they call, with their profane tongues, the King's favourite. I know their gabble right well. Others will think that it is because I judge ill of this lad Seymour, or well of Rochester, as the case may be; and in this they will be reverent, though not altogether wise. You yourself may think that you have had a finger in the pie, and brought the matter about by smooth words and representations; but these opinions are altogether wrong. As my Lord Rochester is now a man of great estate, the match may be a suitable one. As his fortunes depend upon us, we shall always have the staff in our own hands: and it is not unexpedient that she should be married to some one over whom we have the greatest authority, to prevent her from wedding another who might cause confusion. But these are all collateral or subsidiary considerations, and go no farther than to affect her marriage with Lord Rochester. But there are reasons why we will not have her marry the fellow Seymour, which are these:--that he, failing his elder brother, who is but a puny lad, is the immediate representative of that Lady Catharine Grey, descended from King Henry VII., by Mary, Queen Dowager of France; and the lady, as you well know, being of the Blood Royal of England, and next to the throne, after ourself and our children, has been the object, as you well know, of many dark conspiracies and treacherous designings, both amongst the subjects of our crown and foreign princes. Now were the two lines blended more by her marriage with this Seymour, there is no knowing what might come of it--wars, and rumours of wars, tumults, and confusion, sir. If they two were to lay their heads together, and take up either with the Papists or the Puritans, they might blow up a flame in a minute that would be difficult to put out again."

"I see your Majesty's wisdom," replied Overbury, with a low bow, and a well-assorted face; "and it shows clearly that her marriage with Lord Rochester should be brought about as soon as possible. If you will sign this permission, sir, for her to marry any of your Majesty's subjects, it will doubtless greatly facilitate the affair."

"Well, then, put in his name," said the King; "why should he not be the person expressed?"

"Because your Majesty is well aware," answered Overbury, "the lady has always shown herself coy and captious, never willing to give her hand where she supposed it was wished. At all events, sir, the paper could only be used according to your Majesty's directions;--and as to Mr. Seymour," he continued, "he is now paying not the slightest attention to the lady, since your Majesty so severely reprimanded him."

"It was due and merciful severity," answered the King, "like that of----"

But we cannot venture to go on with the blasphemous parallel which he drew between himself and the Almighty. He ended, however, by asking, "Where is the lad now?"

"He is at the house of his father, the Lord Beauchamp, in London," replied Overbury. "He spent a week at Cambridge, sire, then came back direct, and has been in town ever since, preparing, they say, for another journey to Italy, where, it is rumoured, he has some love amongst the Italian ladies."

The King began to chuckle at what he called, "the fule boy going a thousand miles for a woman;" and he laid his commands strongly on Overbury to find out all about it, and give him information.

The Knight promised diligent compliance, and then added, "If your Majesty is gracious enough to sign this paper, it will give my Lord of Rochester the strongest possible claim to the lady's gratitude and regard; and it will not be necessary to present it to her, but merely to intimate that it exists; so that all danger of a misuse of it will be avoided."

"Foul fall thee, man!" exclaimed the King, hesitating, and taking him by the ear; "what a pertinacious hound thou art!"

"I know your Majesty is fond of a staunch dog," answered Overbury; "and you will never blame me for hunting upon the right track."

"Well, well," cried the King, "I'll not sign it, man.--That's to say, not just at present."

"Well then, sire," replied Overbury, determined to make one more effort, "I had better tell my Lord of Rochester at once, not to keep him any longer in suspense. I hear his foot upon the stairs."

"No, no," cried the King, hesitating; "let's see, let's see. Give me the paper."

Overbury gave him the paper, repeating, "I had better let him know your Majesty's resolution at once."

Rochester's step was now distinctly heard coming along the corridor, and James looked round with a sort of nervous glance, exclaiming,--

"Where's the pen? where's the pen?"

"There, your Majesty," answered Overbury, putting one into his hand.

James wrote his name rapidly at the bottom of the paper, and gave it to Overbury, saying, "There, there, let him have it. But do not stop him now; and hark ye, you need not say that we refused to do it."

"I shall tell him, sire," replied Overbury, "that nothing but your Majesty's great regard for him induced you to consent."

"Well, well, that will do--but do not stop him now," answered James, hastily; and then exclaimed, as Rochester entered the closet, "The horses, man! the horses!"

"Are at the door, your Majesty," replied the favourite; "and the hounds and huntsmen gone to the north gate."

"Foul fall the loons," cried James; "I'll make them mind words another time. Come away, Bobby, come away! We have lost much time already;" and thus saying, he shuffled out of the closet, followed by Rochester; while Overbury paused, gazing with a look of thoughtful satisfaction at the paper he held in his hand.

"Ay," now he cried, "the way to fortune is open before him, and the road to power open before me. And yet," he added, thoughtfully, "Rochester has become somewhat cold, even when I am serving him the most zealously. Such is the usual course of the world. I wonder how far he will push his ingratitude?"

Thus is it ever with men blindfolded by their own selfishness. Overbury fancied that he was entitled to deep gratitude from Rochester, because he schemed and laboured to serve him; but he forgot to ask himself, whether all that he did was not with a view to the gratification of his own ambition.

The man who, purely for the sake of another, sacrifices his own peace, his own repose, his own purposes, may well be entitled to thankfulness. Nay, he who at no sacrifice does a kindly act, may have merit likewise; but the man who, in labouring for another, has his own interests, immediate or remote, still before his eyes, can claim but little gratitude from him whom he may benefit in reaching his own objects.

Had anything been wanting to show what were the principles upon which Sir Thomas Overbury acted, his next thoughts would have displayed them: "I will guard against ingratitude," he said; "I will keep this paper in my own hands. His fortune will be then in my power, and hers too will be of my making.--It will be better to have her recalled to the Court at once. There is no fear of this Seymour now. He thinks not of her. As far as I can hear from Maxwell, he has neither been to see her since she went, nor even deigned to write.--No, no; 'twas but a common visit of courtesy; and these tale-bearers have magnified it into a matter of importance.--It is not there I have my fear; but I doubt that daring, impassioned, unprincipled Countess of Essex. I must break through that folly, or Rochester is lost; and yet it must be done skilfully, for it is no light thing to bring down upon one's head the anger of a fierce and ruthless woman. Still it must be done; and though Rochester be bound hand and foot in the chains of this Delilah, we will see whether ambition will not give him strength to break them. It was but an allegory, that tale of Samson. Pleasure was the fair Philistine; ambition the strength-giving hair of the Nazarite, which might be cut off for a time, but grew again in the lap of satiety; and though they blinded him, he slew them all.--He plucked ruin on his own head, it is true; and such may be the case with this man.--Well, we shall see!"