The duke shall die like Dr. Lambe."
The king was extremely concerned when the placard was shown him, and added double guard at night; but the duke treated the whole with contempt, and prepared to proceed himself with the fleet to relieve La Rochelle. Charles went with him to Deptford to see the ships, and is reported to have said to Buckingham on beholding them, "George, there are those who wish that both these and thou may perish; but we will both perish together, if thou dost." Buckingham proceeded to Portsmouth, where he was to embark. Clarendon relates that the ghost of Buckingham's father had appeared to an officer of the king's wardrobe three times, urging him to go to his son and warn him to do something to abate the hatred of the people, or that he would not be allowed to live long. Since the demonstrations in London, it needed no ghost to show his danger. But he was never gayer than on the eve of the verification of the omens and the menaces.
The duke, on the 23rd of August, rose in high spirits, even dancing in his gaiety, and went to breakfast with a great number of his officers. Whilst he was at breakfast, M. Soubise, the envoy of the people of La Rochelle, went to him, and was seen in earnest private conversation. It is supposed that Soubise had come to the knowledge of certain negotiations between England and France, in which, though both monarchs showed every tendency to listen to an accommodation, neither had yet ventured to propose it; but that it was the object of Buckingham rather to treat than to fight when he got to La Rochelle. At that very moment Mr. Secretary Carleton had arrived from the king with instructions to Buckingham to open by some means a communication with Richelieu, and thus, as it were, accidentally to bring about a treaty. Probably Soubise had acquired hints of these things, for both he and many other Frenchmen about Buckingham appeared greatly discontented, and vociferated and gesticulated energetically. The duke, it is said, had been endeavouring to persuade Soubise that La Rochelle was already relieved, which he was too well informed to credit.
The duke now prepared to go out to his carriage, which was waiting at the door, and as he went through the hall, still followed by the French gentlemen, Colonel Friar whispered something in his ear. He turned to listen, and at the same moment a knife was plunged into his heart, and there left sticking. Plucking it out, with the word "Villain!" he fell, covered with blood. His servants, who caught him as he was falling, thought it was a stroke of apoplexy, but the blood, both from the wound and his mouth, quickly undeceived them. Then an alarm was raised; some ran to close the gates, and others rushed forth to spread the news. The Duchess of Buckingham and her sister, the Countess of Anglesea, heard the noise in their chamber, and ran into the gallery of the lobby, where they saw the duke lying in his gore. He was only in his six-and-thirtieth year.
The first suspicion fell upon the French, and they were in great danger from the duke's people; but when a number of officers came rushing in, crying out, "Where is the villain? Where is the butcher?" a man stepped calmly forward, saying, "I am the man—here I am!" He had quietly withdrawn into the kitchen as soon as he had done the deed, and might have escaped had he so willed. On hearing him avow the murder the officers drew their swords, and would have despatched him, but were prevented by the Secretary Carleton, Sir Thomas Morton, and others, who stood guard over him till a detachment of soldiers arrived and conveyed him to the Governor's house.
The assassin turned out to be John Felton, a gentleman by birth and education, who had been a lieutenant in the army during the expedition to the Isle of Rhé. He had thrown up his commission because he could not obtain the arrears of his pay, and had seen another at the same time promoted over his head. He had, therefore, most likely, a personal grudge against the duke, but had also been led on by religious fanaticism. He was a stout, dark, military-looking man, from Suffolk; but according to his own account, was first excited to the deed by reading the remonstrance of the Parliament against the duke, when it seemed to him that that remonstrance was a sufficient warrant for the act, and that by ridding the country of him he should render a real service to it. He described himself as walking in London on Tower Hill, when he saw a broad hunting-knife on a cutler's stall, and that it was suggested to him instantly to buy it for this purpose.
At Portsmouth one of the royal chaplains was sent to him in his dungeon, where he lay heavily ironed; but Felton, supposing the chaplain sent to draw something from him, rather than for his consolation, said, "Sir, I shall be brief with you; I killed him for the cause of God and my country!" The chaplain, to mislead him, told him what was not true, that the surgeons gave hopes of his life; but Felton promptly replied, "That is impossible! I had the power of forty men, assisted by Him who guided my hand." On being removed to London, the people crowded to see him, showering blessings on him as the deliverer of his country; and one old woman at Kingston said, "Now, God bless thee, little David!" meaning that he had killed Goliath. Felton was lodged in the Tower, and threatened with the rack to make him confess his accomplices, but he steadfastly replied that he had no accomplices or abettors but the remonstrance of the Commons. The Earl of Dorset went to see him, accompanied, as reported, by Laud, and menaced him with the rack if he would not reveal his colleagues. Felton replied, "I am ready, but I must tell you that I will then accuse you my lord of Dorset, and no one but you." Charles urged his being racked, but the judges, who saw better than he did the spirit that was abroad, refused to sanction it, declaring that torture, however used, had always been contrary to the law of England. Felton gloried in his deed, but at length, through the exertions of the clergy, came to confess that he had been misled by a bad spirit; yet it has been doubted whether he ever really abandoned inwardly the persuasion of having done a great and patriotic deed. When the Attorney-General on the trial lauded the virtues, the abilities, wisdom, and public services of Buckingham to the skies, Felton, on being asked what he had to say why judgment should not be passed on him, replied that if he had deprived his majesty of so faithful a servant as Mr. Attorney-General described, he was sorry, and extending his arm exclaimed, "This is the instrument that did the deed, let it be cut off for it!" He was hanged at Tyburn, and then gibbeted at Portsmouth, the scene of his crime.
In place of the duke, the Earl of Lindsay was ordered to take command of the expedition for the relief of La Rochelle, and he was accompanied by Walter Montague, the second son of the Earl of Manchester, who was to open a negotiation with Richelieu. Montague was already a Catholic at heart, and afterwards became so avowedly, and was made commendatory Abbot of Pontoise, and a member of the Council of Anne of Austria. No doubt it was from this known tendency that he had been chosen for this mission. For five days the fleet manœuvred before La Rochelle, and after two ineffectual, and probably rather pretended than actual, endeavours to force an entrance, returned to Spithead. Montague, meanwhile, had been introduced to Louis, had hurried back to London, and was on the point of returning, when the news came of the surrender of La Rochelle. This event put an end to the dreams of a Protestant State in France, and greatly consolidated the power of that country. To the Rochellais it was a terrible lesson against putting faith in English kings. When they were prevailed upon to surrender their peace and prosperity to the promises of protection and religious liberty, the town contained fifteen thousand souls; when they opened their gates to their own sovereign, they were reduced to four thousand. All this misery was the work of Charles and Buckingham.
TYBURN IN THE TIME OF CHARLES I.