If idle trav'llers ask who lieth here,
Let the duke's tomb this for inscription bear;
Paint Cales and Rhé, make French and Spanish laugh;
Mix England's shame--and there's his epitaph!
Before his last fatal expedition, among the many libels which abounded,
I have discovered a manuscript satire, entitled "Rhodomontados."[243]
The thoughtless minister is made to exult in his power over the
giddy-headed multitude. Buckingham speaks in his own person; and we have
here preserved those false rumours and those aggravated feelings then
floating among the people: a curious instance of those heaped up
calumnies which are often so heavily laid on the head of a prime
minister, no favourite with the people.
'Tis not your threats shall take me from the king!--
Nor questioning my counsels and commands,
How with the honour of the state it stands;
That I lost Rhé and with such loss of men,
As scarcely time can e'er repair again;
Shall aught affright me; or the care to see
The narrow seas from Dunkirk clear and free;
Or that you can enforce the king believe,
I from the pirates a third share receive;
Or that I correspond with foreign states
(Whether the king's foes or confederates)
To plot the ruin of the king and state,
As erst you thought of the Palatinate;
Or that five hundred thousand pounds doth lie
In the Venice bank to help Spain's majesty;
Or that three hundred thousand more doth rest
In Dunkirk, for the arch-duchess to contest
With England, whene'er occasion offers;
Or that by rapine I fill up my coffers;
Nor that an office in church, state, or court,
Is freely given, but they must pay me for't.
Nor shall you ever prove I had a hand
In poisoning of the monarch of this land,
Or the like hand by poisoning to intox
Southampton, Oxford, Hamilton, Lennox.
Nor shall you ever prove by magic charms,
I wrought the king's affection or his harms.
Nor fear I if ten Vitrys now were here,
Since I have thrice ten Ravilliacs as near.
My power shall be unbounded in each thing,
If once I use these words, "I and the king."
Seem wise, and cease then to perturb the realm,
Or strive with him that sits and guides the helm.
I know your reading will inform you soon,
What creatures they were, that barkt against the moon.
I'll give you better counsel as a friend:
Cobblers their latchets ought not to transcend;
Meddle with common matters, common wrongs;
To the House of Commons common things belongs.
Leave him the oar that best knows how to row,
And state to him that best the state doth know.
If I by industry, deep reach, or grace,
Am now arriv'd at this or that great place,
Must I, to please your inconsiderate rage,
Throw down mine honours? Will nought else assuage
Your furious wisdoms? True shall the verse be yet--
There's no less wit required to keep, than get.
Though Lambe be dead, I'll stand, and you shall see
I'll smile at them that can but bark at me.
After Buckingham's death, Charles the First cherished his memory as
warmly as his life, advanced his friends, and designed to raise a
magnificent monument to his memory;[244] and if any one accused the
duke, the king always imputed the fault to himself. The king said, "Let
not the duke's enemies seek to catch at any of his offices, for they
will find themselves deceived." Charles called Buckingham "his martyr!"
and often said the world was much mistaken in the duke's character; for
it was commonly thought the duke ruled his majesty; but it was much the
contrary, having been his most faithful and obedient servant in all
things, as the king said he would make sensibly appear to the world.
Indeed, after the death of Buckingham, Charles showed himself extremely
active in business. Lord Dorchester wrote--"The death of Buckingham
causes no changes; the king holds in his own hands the total direction,
leaving the executory part to every man within the compass of his
charge."[245] This is one proof, among many, that Charles the First was
not the puppet-king of Buckingham, as modern historians have imagined.