The historians who attribute the calamities of the Great Rebellion to the misrule of James the First, under the pernicious influence of his favourites, draw a lively parallel between the condition of England at the accession of that monarch and the state of peril and embarrassment with which his great predecessor had to contend. Elizabeth, whose inauguration, long celebrated, after her death, as a day of jubilee, was regarded as the commencement of national prosperity, came to the throne under very adverse circumstances. The functions of Government were clogged with debt. The miserable state of the navy required a constant vigilance to repel the chance of invasion, and to drive away pirates by whom the narrow seas were infested. The revenues of the Crown were insufficient to maintain its power and dignity; the country, moreover, was embroiled in religious dissensions; whilst the authority of the Queen was lessened by a disputed succession, and her mind harassed and embittered by the pretensions of the Dauphin of France to the Crown of England, in right of his wife, Mary Stuart.
James, on the contrary, began his reign with every exterior advantage. His claim to the sovereignty was undoubted; and various causes had concurred to give great influence to the Crown. The subservient tributes of respect paid to its dignity were such as even to astonish the envoys of despotic France. Elizabeth had been served and addressed by her subjects on the knee; James, at all events for a time, continued that abject custom, which was a type of the prevailing national sentiment towards royalty. Commerce, in spite of monopolies, and of the injudicious interference of the Legislature with wages, was advancing; leases granted of large tracts of land had increased the opulence of the country; the improved prospects of the landholders acted on the prosperity of the manufacturing classes: whilst the general welfare was increased by emigration; the religious persecutions on the Continent, driving from foreign towns ingenious workmen, sent them into England, where they introduced arts hitherto unknown in this country. The Constitution, too, had been maintained; and, with the exception of the court of the Star Chamber, over which James presided in person, the principles of liberty had not been materially invaded. There was no standing army; the tenets of Protestantism were established; and the Presbyterian education of the King afforded a hope that certain traces of the faith which had been renounced would die away, and that ceremonials which were objectionable to many would be speedily discontinued. Thus, the first of the Stuart Kings enjoyed blessings not possessed by any of his predecessors; and, ascending the throne, opened a new era in the history of the country.[[2]]
James, nevertheless, was not long in showing how fallacious were all expectations founded on his good sense, and on the supposed liberal views which a people, now intelligent and prosperous, fondly anticipated in their ruler. Educated by Buchanan as if he had been destined for the Tutor of a College rather than for a King; his memory crammed; his capacity clogged with ill-digested learning; prejudiced as a Scotchman, yet prejudiced against the established church of his native country, James well merited the sneering appellation of Henry IV. of France, who called him “Captain of Wits and Clerk of Arms,”[[3]] and proved, too lamentably, how easy it is by wrong-headedness to embroil and debase a country.
The blunders which James committed in his civil government began before the subject of this memoir was introduced to royal notice; yet, since George Villiers, first Duke of Buckingham, figured prominently in that period which is supposed to have been the commencement of decay, the origin of the Great Rebellion has been attributed to his maladministration, nor has the grave responsibility been absolutely disavowed, even by Lord Clarendon, the apologist and admirer of the Duke of Buckingham.
“I am not,” writes Lord Clarendon, “so sharp-sighted as those who have discerned the Rebellion contriving from (if not before) the death of Queen Elizabeth, and fomented by several Princes and great Ministers of State in Christendom to the time it broke out; neither do I look back so far, because I believe the design to have been so long since formed, but that, by viewing the tempers, dispositions, and habits at that time of the Court and country, we may discern the minds of men prepared, of some to act, and of others to suffer all that has since happened.”[[4]]
Whatsoever may have been the faults of James the First, it is probable that they would not essentially have affected the well-being of his son, had not the system of favouritism, which was one of James’s greatest weaknesses, acted upon the character of the young Prince, whose earliest associations were stamped with devotion to Buckingham. At once minister, minion, and master, the power behind the throne, to whose dictation, during the years of his brief and bright career, even the High Court of Parliament submitted—the distinction of being the last royal favourite in England is due to this ill-fated man. By him the “sluice of honour,” as an old writer expresses it, “was opened and closed at pleasure.” He was to King James a sort of “Parhelion,”[[5]] at whose course foreign Courts wondered, whilst the sagacious and prophetic at home trembled as they beheld at once its eccentricity and its splendour. At his death the experiment, which had been tried once too often, was abandoned, never to be renewed; and no acknowledged successor in the meteoric career of Buckingham ever appeared before the dazzled gaze of our countrymen. The minutest circumstances relative to his origin are interesting, not only as they concern one whose noble bearing and powers of fascination almost effaced, during his life, the remembrance of his errors, but as they unfold the foundation of a great family which still influences our national councils.
Until the elevation of George Villiers from low estate to an unparalleled career of success, the race from which he sprang, though ancient and honourable, was but partially known to fame, and his ancestors, how valiant and loyal soever they had proved, had held the tenor of their way with little variation, and with only an occasional gleam of celebrity on one or other of its lineage; a course of moderate prosperity maintaining, without altering, its condition—rather, as Sir Henry Wotton has well expressed it, “without obscurity than with any great lustre.”[[6]] “I will, however,” adds the same quaint writer, after referring to the difficulty of making a proper estimate of all public characters, “show, therefore, as evenly as I can, and deduce him from his cradle through the deep and lubrick waves of State and Court till he be swallowed in the Gulf of Fatality.”[[7]]
It was the fashion of those who were opposed to the Duke of Buckingham in his political career to speak with contempt of his origin, and thus attack one who was endowed with every possible advantage of natural gifts—and upon whom honours were lavished—on what was erroneously supposed to be his vulnerable point. Sir Symonds D’Ewes, as might be expected, was not backward in his strictures against a courtier so favoured and envied. He compares Villiers, indeed, to a man of the highest rank, but draws the parallel in these offensive terms:—“He was likest to Henry Loraine, Duke of Guise, in the most of the later passages of his life and death, that possible could be, onelie in this they differed, that Guise was a prince born, but Buckingham was but a younger son of an ordinarie familie of gentrie, of which the coat armoure was so meane as either in this age or of late years, without any ground, right, or authoritie, that I could see, they deferred their owne coate armoure, and bare the arms of Weyland, a Suffolke family, being argent on a cross gules, five escalops, &c.”[[8]] And again, when speaking of Felton, the assassin of the Duke, Sir Simond cannot forbear remarking:—“His familie was, doubtless, more noble and ancient than the Duke of Buckingham’s, and his ende much blesseder.”[[9]] To similar strictures does Wotton probably refer, when he remarks that, in “a wilde pamphlet” published about the Duke of Buckingham, the writers, “beside other pityfule malignities, would scant allow him to be a gentleman.”
It is far easier to make a charge of this nature than to maintain it, for the family of Villiers had long been known in the County of Leicester, where it removed from Kinalton, in Nottinghamshire, the first place of migration from Normandy; where, writes Sir Henry Wotton, “it had been long seated.” It does not appear that Leicestershire was the only place of residence which the ancestors of George Villiers possessed; as the same authority expresses it, they “chiefly continued” in that county for the space of four hundred years before the birth of the first Duke of Buckingham;[[10]] a time long enough, one might suppose, to satisfy a reasonable genealogist.
The name of Villiers, conformably to the arbitrary spelling of ancient times, was written differently, sometimes Villiers, at others Villers, Villeres, and Vyleres; nor did those who bore this famous surname finally adopt the spelling “Villiers” until the reign of James I.