It is now necessary to make a short review of the state of political affairs coëval with these successive manifestations of a blind partiality shown by James to Buckingham.
The autumn of 1621 had witnessed the dissolution of the Parliament. This step, which was imputed to the advice of Buckingham, was hastened by a protest from the two houses of commons, declaring “that the liberties, franchises, and jurisdictions of Parliament are the ancient and undoubted birthright of the subjects of England;” asserting the point that the arduous affairs of state, the making of laws and redress of grievances, are the proper subjects of debate in Parliament; and maintaining the privilege of each member to enjoy entire freedom of speech.
This protest, which James and his son would have done well to have for ever remembered, was drawn forth by the King’s resentment at the interference in the Spanish marriage.[[321]] “He considered it,” he said, “presumptuous in the Parliament humbly to beseech him to permit his son to marry a Protestant Princess; and he intimated that if they had fixed upon any person or place, he should have thought it high treason.”
The proclamation which announced the dissolution was ascribed to the pen of Archbishop Laud, who now exercised an ascendancy over Buckingham; and the King, hastening to London, called a Privy Council, and, sending for the journal of the House of Commons, declared the protest void, and tore it from the book with his own hands.[[322]]
These rash and blamable measures were resented by the whole kingdom. They were followed by acts of oppression and injustice. The first object of the King’s wrath was Henry Vere, Earl of Oxford. This young nobleman, who was endowed with great ability, courage, and high reputation, was one of those young and daring aspirants whose honours were not only inherited from a long series of noble progenitors, but by merit made their own.[[323]] He had already distinguished himself in the cause that was dearest to the hearts of the English—that of the Palatinate, and had extorted from the King one regiment to employ in the service of his son-in-law, Frederic. The body of men whom he led to the unequal contest, was, says a contemporary, “the gallantest for the persons and outward presence of men,” that, “in many ages, ever appeared at home or abroad.” It consisted almost entirely of gentlemen, the flower of the commoners of England, who went to improve themselves in the art of war, to which the English had for years been strangers. Oxford, with his noble associates and brave soldiers, did all that was possible for man to do; and then, finding that there was no support from England, returned, hopeless, but not disgraced.
Here was one of those “gallant spirits who aimed at the public liberty more than at their own interest;[interest;] and who yet, when the Government which they served, or the prerogative which they held sacred, was attacked, were fierce in defence of the King and his authority; supporting,” says Arthur Wilson, “the old English honour, they would not let it fall to the ground.”[[324]]
In spite of this acknowledged loyalty, the Earl of Oxford was accused by a man named White, henceforth called Oxford-White, of having spoken against the King; and was committed to the Tower, where he was long imprisoned, until, on account of his known bravery, he was made one of Buckingham’s Vice-Admirals on the English coast. A letter, addressed to Buckingham, whilst the Earl was under this disgrace, appealing to the King, to the favourite’s own conscience, whether he had ever harboured any treasonable thoughts, obtained for him, perhaps, this tardy justice:—“If it shall please the King,” wrote the gallant Vere, “to line me out my path to death (the period we must all travel to) by imprisonment, I shall be far from repining at the sentence, but with all humbleness will undergo it, and employ my heartiest prayers for the long continuance of his health and happiness.”[[325]]
The persecution of Vere reflects infinite dishonour upon Buckingham—but that bright star was fast losing the purity of its lustre. Buckingham was an altered man. Unbounded prosperity was changing the once generous foe into an avenger.
Henry Wriothesley, the Earl of Southampton, was the next subject of the Marquis’s wrath. Upon this brave peer the King’s favours had hitherto been showered down, and he had been endeared to the people by his friendship for the unfortunate Earl of Essex, on whose account he had suffered confinement in the reign of Elizabeth. On the accession of James, Lord Southampton was brought from “the prison to the palace.”[[326]] His lands had been forfeited to the crown: they were immediately restored. On the meeting of the first Parliament called by James, the Earl was restored by a bill, read after the recognition of the King, to his titles.[[327]] The rest of this nobleman’s life was spent in promoting worthy objects, to some of which even the lettered attached ridicule. For instance, his patronage of colonization, his sending ships to America for the purpose of discovery and traffic, excited the ridicule of some of the caustic geniuses of the day. Yet Lord Southampton received many tributes from the learned; and such was his protection of letters, that he was called “learning’s best favourite.”[[328]] It was, however, his highest praise that he was the patron and friend of Shakspeare.
It was upon this popular nobleman that the ire of Buckingham next fell. It must, however, be acknowledged, that Lord Southampton’s credit at Court had been on the decline previous to the altercation which took place between him and Buckingham in the House of Lords; the Earl having incurred the royal displeasure on several occasions, especially in opposing illegal patents, a tender subject which had lately been under the consideration of Parliament. Under these circumstances, when he called the Favourite to order in a debate of the House of Lords, he only rekindled the embers of former animosities. Prince Charles attempted, indeed, successfully, to check the dispute; nevertheless, Southampton sustained an imprisonment of twelve days upon the adjournment of Parliament. He was allowed, on the eighteenth of July, to go to his own house at Titchfield, where he was, however, a prisoner.[[329]] The famous Selden, Pym, and Sir Robert Philips, were imprisoned in the Tower of London for freedom of speech;[[330]] in short, during this Parliament, were the seeds of that arbitrary disposition, which afterwards manifested itself so calamitously, first ripened. It was not among the least sources of public regret, that the heir-apparent should have witnessed, and in some measure participated in, these flagrant oppressions.