[482] Al. Contarini: 'Che sempre suppose ne havessero poca cognitione, ma che adesso credeva, che non havessero niente affatto.'
CHAPTER IX.
ASSASSINATION OF BUCKINGHAM. SESSION OF 1629.
For some years nothing had surprised foreigners who came to England so much as the wide severance between the government and the nation. Upon the one side they saw the King, the favourite, and his adherents; upon the other every one else. The King had lost much of the popularity which he had enjoyed when he ascended the throne; but a genuine hatred was directed against the arbitrary government of the Duke. Although it had been repressed out of regard to the King, it had again broken loose: the less practical result it produced, the more it filled all hearts.
Burdened with this hatred, and with the ground shaking under him, Buckingham was nevertheless revolving the largest enterprises in his brain. He repelled with scorn the charge of still keeping up an intercourse with Spain; that was contrary to his obligations to the Protestants. He himself, so he said, had concluded the alliances between England and Denmark and the States-General; and he wished also to abide by them. Without doubt overtures had been made on the part of Spain, and had been responded to on the part of England; but their relations had in fact been such as had led to no result. On the contrary, negotiations with France, which certainly offered some prospect of success, had been opened through the mediation of the Venetian ambassadors resident at the two courts. The English were ready to waive all other points at issue if the other side would resolve to show some indulgence, especially if they would conclude some tolerable arrangement with Rochelle. The forces of both powers would then undertake the war against the Spanish monarchy, and against the advance of the Emperor in Germany. The French army would turn its steps to Italy; the English fleet would go to the aid of the Danes: it was expected that these attacks would exert an enormous influence in all directions.[483] Buckingham was still engrossed with designs against Spain, in spite of secret but only pretended overtures to that power. He intended to attack the Spanish monarchy at the source of its greatness, in the West Indies; and by a combination of forces on the Continent to wrest the Palatinate from it, and thereby to destroy the position which it had won on the Middle Rhine. A strange ambition, although in keeping with the age and with his personal character, appears to have been connected with this design. It had entered into his head to marry his daughter to the Electoral Prince Palatine, and perhaps to give his daughter the appearance of a higher rank by getting himself declared independent prince of some West Indian conquest—Jamaica had attracted his ambition[484]:—a hope not altogether chimerical; for he was still all-powerful with Charles. Foreigners were astonished that he undertook the most extensive negotiations before he had given his sovereign notice of them. Not unlike James I he cherished the hope that the threatening attitude which he took up, even if he did not strike a blow, would dispose the French to make concessions and would restore the former understanding between them. If this were not the case, he was determined to undertake the relief of Rochelle with all his energies.
The condition of the English navy was such that he might reasonably promise himself success. We have credible information according to which Buckingham had made it half as large again as it had been in the time of Elizabeth. He had increased it from 14,000 tons burden to 22,000: he had put the dockyards and magazines at Chatham, Deptford, Woolwich, and Portsmouth into good repair; and a number of large vessels had been built under his orders. Already in May an English squadron had made an attempt to relieve Rochelle: but the commanders on that occasion would not undertake the responsibility of exposing the ships entrusted to them, to the great danger which threatened them if they made the attempt: they were apprehensive of being called to account. Buckingham was not fettered by considerations of this kind. He had had engines of extraordinary dimensions constructed, which it was expected would rend with irresistible power the mole in front of the harbour, by which Rochelle was cut off.[485] And who shall say that success would have been impossible?
Buckingham felt the hatred which men entertained towards him, but thought that he should still turn it into admiration. He wished to atone for the faults of his youth, and, as he said, to enter on new paths traced on the lines of the ancient maxims and ancient policy of England, in order to bring back better days.[486] He had to a certain extent made himself the centre of Protestant interests. Every one expected that he would proceed without delay to the relief of Rochelle, for which all preparations had been made. The destinies of the world seemed to hang upon his resolutions. And he had just received better tidings from that town: no one had ever seen him fuller of strength and energy. At this culminating point of his life he was smitten by a sudden and horrible death. As he stepped out of the dressing-room in his lodging at Portsmouth, and was crossing the hall, in order to mount his carriage and drive to the King, he was murdered by a stroke from a dagger.
The murderer might easily have escaped, for the house was full of men, among them many Frenchmen, on whom the first suspicion fell. While all were crying out for the villain who had murdered the Duke, the murderer said, 'No villain did it, but an honourable man. I am the man.' Men saw before them a lean man with red hair, and dark melancholy features. His name was Felton: he had served in the last maritime expeditions, and had formerly been passed over when there was a vacancy for promotion. He could not endure to be placed below men who had never borne arms, merely because they were in the Duke's favour. The strongest impression had been produced on him by the Remonstrance,[487] which censured similar transactions, and at the same time represented the Duke as the enemy of religion and his country. Felton was one of these men, who from the way in which they combine religious and political opinions are capable of anything. In this respect he may be compared with the assassins of William of Orange, Henry III, and Henry IV; except that he came forward in behalf of the opposite side, and in his case there is no mention of any participation of a minister of religion. A paper was found on him in which he pronounced that man cowardly and base who was not ready to sacrifice his life for the cause of his God, his king, and his country. In his lodging there was another, on which he had put down some principles, which he seemed to have drawn from one or two books, and which make his intentions somewhat clearer. It is there said that a man has no relations which place him under greater obligations than those which he has with his country; that the welfare of the people is the highest law, and that 'God himself has enacted this law, that whatsoever is for the profit or benefit of the commonwealth should be accounted to be lawful.'[488] He was believed, and rightly, when he affirmed that he had no accomplices: the slight put upon him, he said, had inspired him with the thought, the Remonstrance had strengthened him in it: 'On my soul,' he repeated, 'nothing but the Remonstrance. He thought that he might remove the man out of the way who obstructed the public welfare. And he looked with some feeling of sarcasm at those who testified their horror of him when he was led by: 'In your hearts,' he cried out, 'you rejoice in my deed.' There were some in fact who really displayed such a feeling: the crews, who had once already wished to mutiny, disguised their sentiments least; over their beer and pipes they gave the assassin a cheer. Others lamented most that an Englishman should have been capable of assassination. Felton himself was afterwards convinced that his principles were false. He was told that a man had other still nearer and deeper obligations to God, and to his own soul, than to his country; that no one should do the smallest evil for the sake of the greatest good,[489] much less then a monstrous crime like his in behalf of a cause which to his blinded eyes appeared good. He at last thanked his instructors for their lesson, and only asked in mercy to be allowed before his execution to do penance in sackcloth with ashes on his head, and a cord round his neck, in presence of all the world.
In public King Charles never lost his calmness of demeanour for a moment. He appeared to accept the event as a dispensation of Heaven; but afterwards he shut himself up for two whole days, and gave way to his sorrow.