Beaumont and Fletcher--Their Origin--Their Joint
Productions--Character of Bishop Fletcher--Anecdotes about
the Use of Tobacco--Ford, the Dramatist--Howell--Sir Henry
Wotton--The Character of the Duke of Buckingham Considered 267
APPENDIX 321
CHAPTER I.
DEATH OF THE EARL OF SUFFOLK--HIS ADDRESS TO THE HEADS OF HOUSES--THE
OPPORTUNITY SEIZED UPON BY THE KING TO MAKE BUCKINGHAM
CHANCELLOR--INDIGNATION OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS--INJUDICIOUS CONDUCT
OF THE KING, VEHEMENT DEBATES--SIR DUDLEY DIGGES AND ELIOT SENT TO
PRISON--BUCKINGHAM’S MOTIVES FOR ENGAGING IN A WAR WITH FRANCE--HE
ENDEAVOURS TO SEND AWAY THE QUEEN’S SERVANTS--HIS FEAR OF LOSING HIS
INFLUENCE--ARRIVAL OF SOUBISE AND ROHAN--THE DUKE GOES TO DOVER--TO
PORTSMOUTH--LETTERS FROM THE DUCHESS--FROM HIS MOTHER--HE SETS SAIL
FOR ROCHELLE--HIS FIRST OPERATIONS SUCCESSFUL--CARE TAKEN BY HIM OF
HIS TROOPS--1626-1627.
LIFE AND TIMES OF
GEORGE VILLIERS.
----------
CHAPTER I.
Whilst these matters were in agitation, the death of the Earl of
Suffolk, Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, afforded the King an
opportunity of evincing his unbounded favour to the Duke of Buckingham,
even whilst he lay under the very shadow of a parliamentary impeachment.
A few years previously, the unpopularity of the Duke at Cambridge had
been manifested by a play, in which his measures were satirized, and
which had been acted by the scholars of Ben’et College.
The ancient discipline of the University appears, indeed, to have so
greatly relaxed, that in 1625-6--in compliance with a letter from the
King--Lord Suffolk had found it expedient to address the Heads of
Houses, whom he styled “Gentlemen, and my loving friends,” exhorting
them to restore order and “consequent prosperity to their University.”
The last sentence had an ominous sound, for there were few cases in
which the King thought it necessary to interfere, in which Buckingham
did not prompt the royal mind to active measures.
Notwithstanding the unpopularity of his minister, disregarding the
public notion that, as the patron and personal friend of Laud,
Buckingham was the patron of Roman Catholics, and in direct defiance of
the impeachment, all the influence of the Crown was employed to procure
the Duke’s election to the office of Chancellor.
That dignity was considered then, as it now is, one of the highest
tributes to personal character, as well as to political eminence, that
the nation could offer. It happened that Doctor Mew, the Master of
Trinity College, was the King’s Chaplain. No fewer than forty-three
votes were obtained by his means; nevertheless, there was a powerful
opponent in Lord Thomas Howard, son of the late Chancellor; a hundred
and three votes against the Duke were secured by him, and with more
exertion, it is supposed, that he might have defeated the Duke’s
partisans.[1]
Footnote 1:
Brodie, vol. ii., p. 117.
Buckingham therefore was elected: thus did Charles, to use the words of
Sir Henry Wotton, “add to the facings or fringings of the Duke’s
greatness the embroiderings or listing of one favour upon another.” But
the King, in point of fact, was doing his favourite the greatest injury,
by thus marking him out as an object for the justly-aroused indignation
of the public.
His doom was, however, at hand. Whatsoever he may have intended to do
for Cambridge was cut short by the hands of destiny. There remains,
however, a very characteristic memorial of Buckingham in that
University. The silver maces still in use, carried by the Esquire
Bedells, were a present from the ill-fated Duke,[2] whose presiding
office was of so short continuance.
Footnote 2:
Masters, 137.--Nichols’ “Leicestershire,” iii., p. 200.
It was to be expected that the House of Commons would receive with great
anger this fresh proof of the King’s contempt for their body. Regarding
this election as a reflection upon them, a resolution was passed to send
to the University a remonstrance against their choice. Charles, however,
considering--and with some justice--that this remonstrance would be an
invasion of the privileges of the University, despatched a message to
the House, by Sir Richard Weston, desiring them not to interfere;
inditing, at the same time, a letter to the University, expressing his
approbation of their election of the Duke.[3]
Footnote 3:
Brodie, from Rushworth.
The Duke’s answer to the impeachment was put in on the tenth of June: on
the fourteenth the Commons presented a petition, praying for liberty to
proceed in the discharge of their duty--and entreating that Buckingham
might, during the impeachment, be removed from the royal presence.
Had the King yielded to a prayer so reasonable and equitable, the fury
of the public might have been appeased. But he viewed the most important
question of this early period of his reign, as between man and man, not
as between a monarch and his subject. Buckingham’s great fault, he
considered, was being his favourite. No criminality could be proved in
any department of his conduct as minister.[4] Nor could Charles, who had
hung over the death-bed of his father, treat with anything but contempt
the accusation of poison. The King believed that all the other articles
of the impeachment were prompted by a resolution, after attacking his
minister, to assail his own prerogative. He had been reared in the
greatest jealousy on that one point, and with the strongest and most
conservative value for the sovereign authority. Charles, accomplished as
a man, was profoundly ignorant and prejudiced as a king: his views were
narrow, and his knowledge of the constitution of his country limited.
His notions had been warped by a residence at the courts of France and
Spain. The immediate effects of a despotic rule are to a superficial
observer imposing. It is only to those who look into the interior
circumstances of a people, and who well consider the tendencies of an
arbitrary government to blight honest ambition, to cramp and weaken the
national character, that its real misery and degradation are apparent.
Footnote 4:
Hume.
In Spain, with Buckingham ever at his side; in a court full of
picturesque splendour; in youth, with hope and love before him, Charles
had probably forgotten the aching hearts in the prisons of the
Inquisition. In France, the irresistible fascinations of Richelieu had
not, it is reasonable to suppose, been wanting to bias the mind of one
likely to be so nearly allied to the royal family of France. Most of all
those influences that betrayed Charles to his ruin must, however, be
ascribed to the dogmatic fallacies of his father. James had educated
according to his own contracted opinions not only his son, but the
favourite who was hereafter, as it is expressed by Sir Henry Wotton, to
be “the chief concomitant” of the future sovereign of England.[5]
Footnote 5:
Reliquiæ Wottonianæ, p. 212.
Of late years, before the quarrel with the Commons, the popularity of
Buckingham had increased. The whole scene of affairs had been changed
from Spain to France; the alteration was satisfactory to many, and was
ascribed to the Duke--and he had not only become suddenly a favourite
with the public, but had been extolled in Parliament.[6] This was,
indeed, says Wotton, “but a mere bubble or blast, and like an ephemeral
fit of applause, as eftsoon will appear in the sequel and train of his
life.” The contrast, therefore, between a success so recent and the
present odium into which he had fallen, was no doubt the cause of much
chagrin to the harassed favourite, who seems, like most men of sensitive
natures, to have valued popularity, and to have been fully aware that
his political life depended upon it. He knew that no man could long
resist the force of public opinion in this country. Even in those days,
suppressed as it was by a fettered press, and by the gaunt spectre of
injustice in Star-chambers, it had exploded into one burst of forcible
indignation in the House of Commons. Somewhere the dauntless spirit of
an Englishman must speak out, and it then began to make itself heard in
that great assembly which had hitherto been almost as subservient to
Court influence as the French Chamber of the present day.
Footnote 6:
Ibid.
The answer of the Duke to the Impeachment was drawn out with much skill
by Sir Nicholas Hyde,[7] the uncle of Edward Hyde, afterwards Lord
Clarendon. Sir Nicholas was considered to be a sound lawyer, and a man
of honourable character. He was a “staunch stickler,” says Lord
Campbell, “for prerogative; but this was supposed to arise rather from
the sincere opinion he formed of what the English constitution was or
ought to be, than from a desire to recommend himself for promotion.”[8]
He succeeded Sir Randolf Crewe, who was suddenly removed from his seat
to make room for one who had no objection to the arbitrary acts by which
Charles endeavoured to support Buckingham, and who was ready to conduct
the war with France without the aid of parliament.
Footnote 7:
He was the son of Lawrence Hyde, of Gussage St. Michael, in the county
of Dorset, and of a west country branch of the ancient family of "Hyde
of that Ilk."--_See Lord Campbell._
Footnote 8:
Lives of the Chief Justices, vol. iv., p. 381.
The debates which were now carried on with vehemence seemed to produce
little impression on the counsels which incited Charles and Buckingham
to acts of insanity. The chief orators on the side of the parliament
were Selden, Noy, and Thomas Wentworth, member for Oxford, and, before
their commitment, Sir Dudley Digges, and Sir John Eliot. To this list
several others must be added; amongst the most notable were those of
Burton and Prynne. Burton had been one of the clerks of the closet to
King Charles when Prince of Wales, and had been offended by not
accompanying his royal master to Spain, but grew still more indignant at
the preferment of Laud; and by being himself regarded as an “underling.”
He was afterwards dismissed the court for various acts of insolence, and
became, as a matter of course, the bitterest enemy of his late
patron.[9]
Footnote 9:
Heylyn, 149.
There were now, to use the language of Sir Edward Coke, “two leaks in
the ship,” or State. “Two leaks,” he declared, “would drown any
ship;”[10] yet Lord Campbell, as well as other historians, is of opinion
that had it not been for the attempt to force episcopacy on Scotland,
Charles, and even his descendants, might have continued to rule by
absolute power, until, in the course of centuries, the public voice
might have forced a revolution upon the country.
Footnote 10:
Lord Campbell, vol. vi., 322, _passim_.
Whilst the levying of a loan, by which Charles hoped to supply the place
of a grant from Parliament, was going on, Buckingham was using every
effort to return to that country where, either as a lover or as a
conqueror, he hoped to see Anne of Austria once more. According to
Clarendon, he had sworn that he would see the Queen in spite of all the
power of France, and that determination had originated the war which was
now on the eve of commencing.
In order to challenge reprisals, since there was no pretence to warrant
a proclamation of war with France, Buckingham encouraged the capture of
French vessels by English ships and privateers, taking the vanquished
vessels as prizes. He began, also, to make his great influence available
by his efforts to lower the French nation in the eyes of the King,
fearing lest the young and beautiful queen should oppose the war. He
endeavoured, it is alleged, to alienate the affections of the King from
the bride of his choice, and to shew her personally every species of
insolence and rudeness. Once, when she did not call upon his mother, as
she had promised to do by appointment, Buckingham entered her Majesty’s
room in a rage; the Queen answered him harshly: upon which he told her
that there had been Queens in England who had lost their heads.[11]
Footnote 11:
Brodie, after Clarendon.
Buckingham appears to have been in a fever of jealousy; hitherto he had
exercised a sole influence over his royal master. Henceforth, the less
public but more sure sway of an idolized wife would for ever interfere
with his counsels. Infuriated against the French, yet madly in love with
their Queen, Buckingham had only been deterred from returning to France
as a private individual by a dread of assassination on the part of
Richelieu, who had, it appears, entertained that design. Having
persuaded Charles to send back, contrary to treaties, the Queen’s French
attendants, he now drove the inexperienced and irritated Henrietta Maria
to despair; and finding herself in a foreign country, where all around
her were inimical to her religion, and to herself, she passionately
entreated to be allowed to return to France. Buckingham, rejoicing at
the success of his schemes, besought Charles to allow him to conduct the
Queen home. But that proposal, when transmitted to Paris, was
indignantly rejected by the French Court, and the Duke was confirmed in
his resolution to commence a war with a nation which had the courage to
decline his friendship.
His scheme for sending back the Queen’s French servants had been,
however, agreeable in the extreme to Charles--and it may even have been
suggested by the King, who, in answer to a letter from the Duke, writes
to him thus:--“Steenie, I have received your letters by Dic Graeme. This
is my answer: I command you to send all the French away to-morrow out of
town; if you can, by fair means, but stick not long in dispatching,
otherwise force them away like so many wyld beasts, until ye have
shipped them, and so the devil go with them. Let me hear no more answer,
but of the performance of my command; so trust your faithful and
constant friend, CHARLES R. Dated Oaking, 7 Aug. 1626.”[12]
Footnote 12:
Brodie, vol. ii., note, from Ayscough’s MSS. Brit. Mus., 4161, vol.
ii.
His former loan of ships to the French implies a more friendly footing
with that nation than these later passages of the Duke’s life may seem
to indicate.[13] It was in fact his dread of any influence stronger than
his own that caused Buckingham to induce Charles to break off the treaty
with Spain; and had instigated his animosity to France. Haunted by the
dread of being superseded in Charles’s favour, there were moments when
his overburdened mind was opened to some humble friends, and the
apprehensions of the King’s regard being alienated were imparted in
agony to a confidant.
Footnote 13:
Ibid.
Buckingham was also aware of that intriguing and uncertain disposition
in Henrietta Maria, which, in spite of a certain heroism of character
which she possessed, shewed itself in mournful colours in later periods
of her chequered life. The patronage which she wished to divide among
her French followers was also a source of jealousy to the Duke, who had
hitherto disposed of all Court offices to people who would support him
in his state of power, or aid him if he fell. Henrietta was attended on
her arrival in this country by many younger sons of good families in
France, who looked to England as the field where golden honours were
plentifully to be reaped. “They devoured so much,” we are told, “that
all the thrift of Bishop Juxom, who had amassed much, was gulped down by
these insatiable sharks.”[14] Patronage and influence being withdrawn,
the Duke’s ruin must, he knew, be complete. He had nothing to expect
from his country, for he had never considered the interests of his
native land as identified with his own. There were in his mind some
motives of a higher class and a more general nature, although we must
not look for lofty principles of action in those days.
Footnote 14:
Brodie, from Hacket’s Life of Williams, part ii., p. 96.
The intrigues of Richelieu, who was now Buckingham’s rival and foe,
worked in England through the Queen. The Duke had been overreached by
the Cardinal, and thirsted for open revenge. By denying the troops of
Count Mansfeldt a passage through France, the army of that celebrated
general had perished. There was no doubt of Richelieu’s determination to
extirpate the Protestants, and all promises of befriending them had long
since proved faithless; the Duke, therefore, saw that he had been
compromised, and he resented that superiority in trickery, which it is
difficult for a mind like his to bear. Whilst he had thus been deceived
by France, Buckingham was suffering by the popular cry against
recusants; and the Romish priests, adding to that cry, were enjoining on
Henrietta Maria, as a penance, that she should walk bare-footed to
Tyburn, as a tribute to the memory of the Jesuits, who had been executed
at that spot of sad remembrances. Thus, the cause of the suffering
Protestants in France had become the cause of the people, and Buckingham
hoped to regain his popularity by espousing it--whilst, at the same
time, by sending away the French attendants of the Queen, he should
banish the emissaries of Richelieu. Much of his conduct has been
attributed to the influence of a French Abbot, who was related to the
Duke of Orleans, who was also a violent enemy to the Cardinal.[15]
Footnote 15:
Brodie, from Rushworth, vol. i., p. 424.
Fortunately for Buckingham’s endeavours to regain popularity, the Duc de
Soubise, who, together with the Duc de Rohan, his brother, were the
great leaders of the Protestant party in France, arrived during the
summer, after the dissolution of Parliament in England. The Abbot, it
seems, who had incited Buckingham against Richelieu, had at the same
time acquainted the Duc de Soubise with the state of affairs in England.
The alliance of these two great noblemen was eagerly accepted by
Buckingham. The Duc de Rohan engaged to supply 4000 foot and 200 horse,
to assist the English on landing in France; which was an enterprize
eagerly coveted by Buckingham.[16]
Footnote 16:
Letter from Admiral Pennington to Buckingham, State Paper Office,
inedited.
M. de Soubise had at his command a fleet of twenty-three sail, which was
to proceed at once to La Rochelle, then closely besieged by Richelieu,
and to throw provisions into the town. The English Government engaged to
fit these ships up, to victual them, and to store them with provisions
for La Rochelle. Private information disclosed, however, that these
“ships were miserable rotten things, of little or no force.” Their crews
amounted to 1,261 wretched French sailors, who had neither bread nor
drink till the Duke’s vice-admiral went down to Plymouth.[17] Soubise
had, afterwards, a supply of beef and pork allowed for two days a week;
of fish, for the other four; some small store of butter and cheese, and
some eighteen or twenty tons of cider. This seems to have been all the
provisions for all the ships; and Admiral Pennington, writing to the
Duke, said:--“I wish the Frenchmen had all the rest, for our people will
never eat it, only the best of it.” So like the English now were the
English then. A hundred tons of beer were to be supplied out of the
town.[18]
Footnote 17:
Letter from Admiral Pennington to Buckingham.
Footnote 18:
Ibid.
But other unforeseen difficulties occurred, and the greatest was the
want of men. The miserable provisions, or, perhaps, the lingering
presence of the plague, now produced sickness and death among the
seamen; “so that few of the captains,” writes Pennington, “have
sufficient men to bring their ships about.” He begs to have a _strict_
command for the “press” sent him;[19] but even that was of no avail, as
the strongest men fled up the country and hid themselves in the woods.
Footnote 19:
A request which was quickly complied with, as we find in the State
Paper Office: “Orders given to impress men for the fleet,” addressed
to Admiral Pennington.
Then certain merchants, to whom the Lord-Admiral looked for a supply of
ships in war, were unwilling to lend their vessels. They even disabled
their vessels to prevent their being used; and it became necessary for
Pennington, as he stated, to send his carpenters to repair them--and
after all he was obliged to wait for a reinforcement from Ireland.[20]
The poor Vice-Admiral wrote anxious letters, praying that the useless
merchant-ships might be sent away; whilst the others, French and all,
might be well provisioned at once. He entreated that a ship-load of
cordage, cables, anchors, and sails for the furnishing of other ships,
might come forthwith. This was a miserable beginning of an aggressive
war, and Charles must now have seen his folly in having quarrelled with
Parliament. Eventually, Pennington informed the Duke that he was obliged
to discharge all the merchant ships, except a few from Ireland, which
were in good condition.[21]
Footnote 20:
Ibid.
Footnote 21:
Ibid.
The situation of the Duke seems, at this moment, to have been truly
pitiable. It has been already stated that he received and answered all
letters himself; and the applications made to him, in his capacity of
High Admiral, seem to have been of the most minute character. Sometimes
among his correspondence we find a letter from Admiral Burgh, wanting to
know what he was to do with some Newfoundland fish which had come into
his possession as Vice-Admiral.[22] Then follow numerous complaints of
the dilapidated state of the forts and castles which ought to have
guarded the coasts. In 1625, however, they were reported to be in a
perfect state for defence.
Footnote 22:
Ibid.
Often was the Duke addressed as “the most noble Prince George;” whilst
in numerous epistles a tribute is paid to his justice and
circumspection, which would surprise those who take the ordinary view of
his character. His powers and his province were alike important. A Lord
High Admiral was, to use the words of an eminent writer, “one to whom is
committed the government of all things done upon or beyond the sea in
any part of the world--all things done upon the sea-coast in all ports
and harbours, and upon all rivers below the first bridge next towards
the sea.” So far for his powers; the following were among the list of
his privileges:--
“To the Lord High Admiral belong all penalties of all transgressions at
sea or on the shore, the goods of pirates and felons, all stray goods,
wrecks at sea and headlands, a share of all lawful prizes not granted to
lords of manors adjoining the sea; all great fishes, as sea-dogs, and
other great fishes, called royal fishes, except whales and
sturgeon.”[23]
Footnote 23:
Chamberlayne’s State of Great Britain in the seventeenth century.
Questions arising out of these privileges, and disputes between Lord
Zouch and the captains of vessels, on the subject of wrecks, occur
incessantly among the documents in the State-paper Office, which almost
supply a history of the period.
In the beginning of the year 1626, Buckingham had commenced his naval
operations by sending to impress twenty of the best merchant-ships in
the Thames or elsewhere; “such,” were his instructions, “as shall be
most ready to go to sea, and most able to do his Majesty’s service in
his present employments.”[24]
Footnote 24:
State Papers, edited, 1626.
The impressment of these vessels does not seem to have been successful
in this instance; and although the captains to command them were
appointed by Government, they found great difficulty, as has been before
stated, in manning their ships.
Great, meantime, were Buckingham’s endeavours to clear the seas of
pirates, as well as to recover that dominion over the narrow seas upon
which encroachments had been made. The Duke now began to be assisted by
Sir Edward Nicholas, whose name appears at this period as the writer of
the Duke’s answers to suitors, and who was evidently regarded with much
confidence by Buckingham.[25]
Footnote 25:
State Papers, edited, 1626.
Although a fleet of twenty sail, of the king’s ships, and others had
been prepared so early as the 6th of January, 1625-6, for a service of
six months,[26] yet it was not until June that the Duke suddenly left
the court, and, with all the haste of his impetuous nature, went on
board the fleet at Dover so unexpectedly that his secretary Nicholas
could not join him before he set out, but was a few hours too late.
Neither had due preparations been made; shoes, shirts, and stockings
were wanting for three thousand men; the surgeons’ chests were not
supplied with medicines; many of the soldiers’ arms were wanting; the
colonels and captains begged to have new colours; the soldiers to have
hammocks; and it was represented to the Duke that their food ought not
to be so inferior as it then was to that of the sailors.[27]
Footnote 26:
Brodie (vol. ii., p. 147) says that only ten sail of the hundred ships
that formed Buckingham’s fleet were the king’s ships; but it seems
from these letters that the number was much greater.
Footnote 27:
State Papers, vol. lxvi., No. 19.
The Duke, according to Sir Henry Wotton’s statement, was personally
employed on either element; both “Admiral and General,” there seems to
have been a deficiency of discipline; several murders were committed by
the soldiery, and an enforcement of martial law was recommended.
His haste and secrecy had, perhaps, another object. It precluded those
farewells which are the most touching to those who encounter the chances
of war. In Buckingham’s case, the parting with his wife, whom he might
never see again, must have been mingled with self-reproach as well as
sorrow. He evaded it therefore by flight, notwithstanding a promise that
he should see her again, nay even by an assurance that he should not go
with the expedition to Rhé.[28] This conduct wounded the poor Duchess to
the heart, and it was perhaps these traits of conduct that alienated her
affections, and made her less reluctant to a second marriage than might
have been expected from one of her gentle nature. Buckingham’s apparent
neglect would have been inexplicable were it not remembered how
completely an unhallowed passion for another severs and rends all
domestic ties; and that, long before the links are broken, they are
loosened by the first deviation from duty, even in thought. The
following letters were probably found among the Duke’s papers at the
time of his death, and so conveyed to the State-Paper Office, where they
have remained buried--the words of reproach and sorrow, unheeded and
unknown. They are evidently strictly confidential; but they explain and
excuse, if anything can excuse, the after-conduct of the Duchess. Much
that followed the Duke’s decease is accounted for in this epistle:--
"MY LORD,--Now as I do to plainly se you have deceved me, and if I judge
you according to y^r one[29] words I must condemn you not only in this
hut in your accation[30] you so much forswore. I confese I deed ever
fere you wood be catched, for there was no other likelyhoode after all
that showe but you must needs go--for my part, but I have bine a very
miserable woman hitherto that never could have you keepe at home, but
now I will ever looke to be so till some blessed ocasion comes to draw
you quite from the Cort, for ther is non more miserable than I am, and
till you leve this life of a cortyer w^{ch} you have bine ever since I
knewe you, I shall ever thynke myself unhappye. I am the unfortunate of
all outher, that ever when I am w^{th} child I must have so much cause
of sorrow as to have you go from me, but I never had so great a cause of
greeve as now. I hope God of his mercie give me patience, and if I were
sure my soule wood be well I could wish myself to be out of this
miserable world, for till then I shall not be happye: now I will no more
right to hope you do not goe, but must betake myself to my prayers for
your safe and prosperous jorney w^{ch} I will not fayle to do, and for
your quicke returne: but never, whilst I live, will I trust you agane,
nor never will put you to your oathe for any thinge agane. I wonder why
you sent me word by _crowe_[31] that you wood se me shortly, to put me
in hopes: I pray God never woman may love a man as I have done you that
non may fele that w^{ch} I have done for you: sence ther is no remedy
but that you must go, I pray God to send you gon quickly, that you may
be quickly at home again, and whosoever that wisht you to this jorney by
side yourselfe, that they may be punished for it, because of a greete
dele of greeve to me; but that is no mater now ther is no remedy but
patience w^{ch} God send me. I pray God to send me wise, and not to hurt
myself w^{th} greeving now. I am very well, I thanke God, and so is Mall
and so I bid farewell.--Your poor greeved and obedient wife,
"K. BUCKINGHAM.
"I pray give order before you goe for the jewells w^{ch} I owe for ...
burn this: for God’s sake, go not to lande: and pity me, for I feel
(most miserable) at this time: be not angry with me for righting, for my
hart is so full I cannot chuse, because I deed not looke for it.
"I would to Jesus that there were in any way in the world to fetch you
out of the jorney with y^r honor, if any prayers or any suffering of
mine could do it I were a most happy woman, but you have send y^rself
and made me miserable: God for give you for it.
"You have forgoten poore Dicke Turpin for all y^r promis to me.[32]
“26th June, 1627. To the Duke of Buckingham.”[33]
Footnote 28:
Ibid., Domestic, vol. lxviii., No. 3; see also Preface to Calendar, by
Mr. Bruce, p. 11.
Footnote 29:
Own.
Footnote 30:
Action.
Footnote 31:
Sir Sackville Crowe, who had been keeper of the Duke’s privy purse,
and was now treasurer of the Navy.
Footnote 32:
The spelling of this original letter is preserved here: the
punctuation alone is altered.
And again, on the sixteenth of June, was sent another epistle, full of
affection:--
"MY DERE LORD,--I was very much joy’d at the receiving y^r leter last
night, and I will assure you I do not only right cheerfully, but am so
in my hart, and outwardly every on may see it, and so they do, for they
tell me they ar glad to see me so cheerfull, and I hop sences. I will
assure you I will not fayle to keep my promis w^{th} you; I hope you
will not deseve me in breaking yours, for I protest if you should, it
woold half kill me: and I give you humble thanks for saying you will
likewise keepe your word with me in the outher mane bisnes,[34] as you
call it. I am very glad you cam so well to y^r jorneys end, but sorey it
was so latt, for Mr. Murey told me it was nine a clocke before you gott
thether. I pray lett me here as often from you as you can, and send me
word when I shall be so hapye as to se you, for I shall think it very
longe, my lord: I thanke God I am very well, so farwelle, my dere Lord,
your true loving, and obedient wife,
"K. BUCKINGHAM.[35]
"My Lord, for God sake lett some of that money w^{ch} you in tended to
have at Portsmouth to be left w^{th} Dick Oliver, if it be but five
hundred pound to pay Mr. Ward for a ringe and for a cross w^h you gave
to my Lady Exeter: for Jesus sake do this, for I am so hanted with them
for it, that I do not know what to do; if you will but send me 400_l._ I
will dispatch them myself, for I cannot ster for them.[36]
"I beseech you remember my cusin Turpine.
“To the Duke of Buckingham, my dere husband.”[37]
Footnote 33:
State Papers, vol. lxv., No. 3.
Footnote 34:
Main business.
Footnote 35:
Vol. xvii. No. 28.
Footnote 36:
For the Duke’s creditors.
Footnote 37:
State Papers, 2, vol. lxvii., date uncertain, No. 60.
This epistle was soon followed by another letter, expressive of great
affection--the poor Duchess begging of the Duke not to deceive her, and
to love no one but herself. “It was impossible,” she writes, “for woman
to love a man more than she did him.” Again she writes:--“beginning to
fear” that some hints in which he had encouraged a hope of their meeting
again before he sailed were but deceptions, and that she should not see
him again, “she was grieved,” she added, “that he had not told her the
truth.”[38]
Footnote 38:
No. 96, Ibid.
The Duke’s example and presence, however, after all these delays, had so
great an effect both on officers and men, that, on the second of June,
Sir Fulke Greville had to write word from Cowes Castle, that he could,
with a “perspective,” see a part of the fleet in Stokes Bay.[39] The
Duke, meantime, was harassed with difficulties; affairs were far from
being in a satisfactory condition; there was continual difficulty in
getting seamen, and supplies of money were wanting to leave the coast
guarded, to repair the navy, to furnish stores, and to pay the sailors
on their return from Rhé.[40]
Footnote 39:
S. P., vol. lxvi., No. 14.
Footnote 40:
State Papers, vol. lxvi., No. 33.
Meantime the town of Portsmouth was gladdened by the presence of the
King, who walked round the fortifications; and, judging for himself of
the ruinous state of the bulwarks, promised that they should be
repaired. It was Buckingham’s intention at this time to build a new dock
at Portsmouth, in order to supersede that at Chatham, and thus to
benefit the naval service incredibly.[41] Charles entered into this
admirable plan. Accompanied by Monsieur de Soubise, the Earls of Rutland
and Denbigh, Lord Carlisle and the Lord Chamberlain, he went aboard
several of the ships, and dined at last in the “Triumph.” At table his
conversation ran all day on the armament, and he asked Sir John Watts,
in his own language, whether “she” (the “Triumph”) “could yar or not?”
The repast went off with great hilarity: the Duke’s musicians playing
merrily, and Archie the fool, and Sir Robert Deale, adding to the
general jollity. Well might the Duchess, nevertheless, mourn at the
departure of her husband. The plague was raging in the fort of La
Rochelle with as much fury as in England.
Footnote 41:
Ibid., No. 35 and 67.
At length, on the 27th of June, the Duke sailed from Portsmouth. If we
could accept as sincere the good wishes which attended his departure, no
man ever left England with greater assurances of devotion. “Secretary
Conway was ready,” he declared, “to carry his hand all the world cries
for the Duke’s service.” “The Duke’s good works,” he said, “came forth
with a better grace than he ever observed in the acts of any other man.
Besides his own duty, affection, and humble endeavour and thorough
hope,” he “joyed” to consign to the Duke the duty, thankfulness, faith,
and affection of his posterity.[42]
Footnote 42:
State Papers, No. 71.
Secretary Cope sent a message of good wishes in these terms: “God direct
his ways and his ends, and make them acceptable to himself and all good
men.”[43] Even the Queen, between whom and the Duke there had been so
great a coolness, sent him a letter, with best wishes. Sir George
Goring, writing to his “ever and above all most honoured Lord,” the Duke
of Buckingham, engaged to “keep the Duke safe with the Queen.” The
Duchess could not, however, he said, reconcile herself to his departure,
without one word of farewell; and the Duke’s mother thought a “word or
two in” excuse would revive her much.[44]
Footnote 43:
Ibid., No. 76.
Footnote 44:
Vol. 68, No. 18.
It was not therefore, it seems, the departure alone of her husband, but
his neglect, that pained her. Fond, indeed, and true were the hearts
that mourned for his absence in peril. His sister, the Countess of
Denbigh, shed many a tear when she missed the Duke at chapel on the
morning of his departure with the King.
His mother’s blessing was given in these few, but very expressive
words:--
“MY DEARE AND MOST BELOVED SONNE,--Your departure lies grevous at my
hart, being oprest with many motherly feres, and were it not for the
great joy I beheld in your face that presages some good fortunes, I had
bene much worse, but since it must be as it is, I will omit all (with
you) to God’s pleasure, assuring my selfe he that hath done so much for
you, will make you a happy instrument of his further glory, and your
eternall comfort; to which end I will addres all my prayers to our sweet
Saviour Jesus,--being your ever most assured loving Mother,
M. BUCKINGHAM.[45]
“To the Duke of Buckingham.”
Footnote 45:
Ibid., 105.
The first letter, written according to the Duke’s orders, by Sir James
Bagg, who accompanied him, to Secretary Nicholas, shewed how unabated
was the impetuous and arbitrary spirit of the favourite. “The Duke,”
Bagg wrote, “is very desirous to have the refusers of the loan sent for
to the council, which will make the western people sensible that Eliot
and Coryten do not only lie by the heels for my Lord’s sake.”[46]
Footnote 46:
State Papers, vol. lxviii., No. 25.
He set out, however, in high spirits, excited by the change of scene,
and full of confidence in his projected movements. It is agreeable to
find a concern for the comfort and health of the troops, which amounted
in all to between six and seven thousand, under his command. On the
twelfth of July, the “Triumph,” with nineteen great ships of the fleet,
was seen near St. Martin’s, at Rochelle; King Charles’s colours, the
white flag, and the St. Andrew’s cross, in the main tops, being visible
to the dismayed French over in the port; and firing from our ships was
instantly commenced. Whilst these operations were going on, we find
Buckingham writing to Secretary Nicholas, desiring that victuals may be
sent after them with all possible speed; and, above all, to take care
that the fleet be furnished out of hand with London beer; “the beer from
Portsmouth,” adds the Lord-Admiral, “proves naught, and the soldier is
better satisfied with his beer, if it is good, than with his
victuals.”[47] At first the Duke’s expedition was attended with success;
a landing at St. Martin’s point, opposite to Rochelle roads, was
effected, and the French, who attacked the invaders, were driven back
with considerable slaughter. On the 14th of July the troops advanced
inland, and took the small fort of St. Marie, and the town of La Flotte;
on the eighteenth they gained possession of the town of St. Martin’s.
Great praises of the Duke’s valour were transmitted to England, by a
writer who penned his epistle on a drum’s head, near St. Martin’s. The
forces then beleaguered the fort, erecting a battery of twenty-one
pieces of “ordnance.” “The Lord-General,” wrote Sir Allen Apsley, “is
the most industrious, and in all business one of the first in person in
dangers. Last night the enemy’s ordnance played upon his lodging, and
one shot lighted upon his bed, but did him no harm.”[48] “Unluckily,”
adds the same writer, “there was no bread and beer thought of for the
soldiers--wheat instead of bread, and wine instead of beer.”
Footnote 47:
State Papers, vol. lxxi., No. 43.
Footnote 48:
Ibid., No. 36.
There appeared every prospect of a long siege, unless reinforcements
from England should arrive to strengthen the Duke’s efficiency. Whilst
the fort held out, the citizens of La Rochelle knew not which side to
take. The Duke, every writer from St. Martin’s agreed, behaved in the
most admirable manner, shewing qualities which no one suspected him of
possessing. “His care is infinite, his courage undauntable, his patience
and continual labours beyond what could have been expected.” Such was
the language of one of Secretary Conway’s correspondents. “Himself,”
continues this writer, “views the grounds, goes to the trenches, visits
the batteries, observes where the shell doth light, and what effects it
works.”[49] The greatest vigilance was indeed necessary, owing to the
carelessness of some of the officers; there was no one of any great
capacity except the Duke and Sir John Burgh--a brave but rough soldier,
whose plain speaking was often offensive to Buckingham. His chief
adviser in military affairs was Monsieur Dulbier, a man of great
experience, but devoid of any striking talents.[50]
Footnote 49:
State Papers, vol. lxxii., No 18.
Footnote 50:
Ibid.
Meantime the poverty of the Treasury at home impeded the speedy supplies
for which Buckingham incessantly wrote. It was his urgent necessity that
stimulated the unjust and extortionate collection of the loan--in
default of contributions to which imprisonment was the instant
punishment. Several Frenchmen, also, were about this time committed for
trying to allure Sir Sackville Crowe’s workmen into France to cast
ordnance.[51]
Footnote 51:
State Papers, vol. lxxii., No. 28.
Disheartened by the delay of the supplies, Buckingham wrote word that he
was making trenches, but, owing to the stony nature of the ground, they
went on slowly, whilst the Fleet was dispersed round the Island of Rhé;
so that unless some speedy succour came, the expedition could scarcely
be benefited by anything that might be sent. The citadel, he considered,
would be impregnable, if once the fortifications were perfected; in its
present unfurnished state, the only way would be to take it by famine.
Already thirty musketeers who had been sent out to get water had been
captured. Toiras, the Governor, was likely “to make the place his
death-bed.” The enemy were strong, and the siege would doubtless be a
long one, but he was confident that the King would not let him want aid.
By the advice of the Duc de Soubise, he had issued a proclamation,
setting forth that the King’s intention was only to assist the
Protestants.[52]
Footnote 52:
Ibid., No. 29.
But the Protestants in La Rochelle unhappily refused the aid[53] of the
ever-hated English. Louis XII. was ill; the court was divided into
factions: and favourable terms were even offered the Huguenots, provided
that they did not admit the English into the city.[54]
Footnote 53:
This letter is dated July 28, which contradicts Hume’s assertion that
the Duke had given the Governor five days respite.--See Hume, Life of
Charles I., 1627.
Footnote 54:
Brodie, vol. ii., p. 151.
The Duke, during all this time of deep anxiety, attended religious
service daily, and was, it is possible, the more inclined to have
recourse to the One Source of help and safety, an attempt to assassinate
him having been made whilst he was beleaguering Fort St. Martin. No
impression was made upon the enemy, who were three thousand strong in
garrison. Mines were resorted to; two water-pipes were cut off, and the
besieged were driven out of their outworks; but Buckingham wrote word
from the camp that his army, without a supply, would soon not only be
disabled from continuing the siege, but would lose what they had
gained.[55] His anxiety on this point was expressed in every letter, and
in the most earnest terms, and it was fully responded to by Charles I.,
but still a reinforcement of two thousand men which had been promised
did not arrive. Money could not be raised, and the King was obliged to
wait the issue of “three bargains” offered to him before he could send
out either provisions or men.
Footnote 55:
State Papers, lxxii., No. 87 and 90.
Nothing could be more vexatious than the position of the Duke. He was
within a distance of what was then three or four days’ sail from
England--his credit, his honour, perhaps his life, were staked on the
relief of the Huguenot citizens of La Rochelle. Forty days,
nevertheless, elapsed without even a message by fisher-boat reaching the
famishing troops, “who were well supplied with wheat, but had neither
means to grind, or ovens to bake it.”[56]
Footnote 56:
Letter from Sir Allen Apsley to Secretary Nicholas.
It was not until the twenty-seventh of August, two calendar months since
the expedition had sailed from Portsmouth,that arms, ammunition, and
victuals were sent off by Nicholas--“honest Nicholas,” as the Duke used
to call him; but no money came. Of that which was intended for the Duke,
some was raised by his own stewards, but was detained on account of
pressing claims in his own affairs. The want of money was almost
distracting. Nothing could be extracted from the Lord Treasurer
Middlesex; even at home the young Queen Henrietta Maria declared herself
to be terribly incommoded for want of it.
“Send us men,” was the burden of every letter from the camp; and a small
contribution from a quarter little suspected of patriotism was the
answer to this appeal--Lady Hatton furnishing six stalwart volunteers
from Purbeck, clothed and armed from head to foot.[57]
Footnote 57:
State Papers, vol. lxxv., No. 20.
The Duke’s mother, too, after the manner of mothers, remitted him some
money, and, at the same time sent him, as mothers do on such occasions,
a reproving letter. But, unhappily, she who had implanted the lessons of
worldly wisdom, and those alone, and whose whole life had been a
commentary on those precepts, could not hope to influence her son for
good. She indeed reaped as she had sown. One cannot, however, avoid
pitying the alarm which was soon to be so fearfully realized by the
events which succeeded the fatal enterprize.
"MY DEERLY BELOVED SONNE--I am very sorrie you have entered into so
great busines, and so little care to supply your wants as you see by the
little hast that is mad to you. I hop your eys wil be oppened to se what
a greate goulfe of businesses you have put your selfe into, and so
little regarded at home, wher all is mery and well plesed, though the
shepes be not vitiled as yet, nor mariners to go with them: as for
monyis the kingdom will not supply your expences, and every man grones
under the burden of the tymes. At your departuer from me, you tould me
you went to make pece, but it was not from your hart: this is not the
way for you to imbroule the hole christian world in warrs, and then to
declare it for religion, and make God a partie to this wofull affare so
far from God as light and darknes; and the high way to make all
christian Princes to bend ther forces against us, that other ways in
policie would have taken our parts. You knew the worthy King your
master[58] never liked that way, and as far as I can perseve ther is non
that crise not out of it. You that acknowleg the infinite mercy and
providence of all mightie god in preserving your life amongest so many
that false doune ded on every side you, and spares you for more honor to
himself, if you would not be wilfully blind and overthro your selfe,
body and soule, for he hath not I hope made y^u so great and gevin you
so many exsellent parts as to suffer you to die in a dich,--let me that
is your mother intreat you to spend some of your ouers in prayers, and
meditating what is fitting and plesing in His sight that has done so
much for you, and that honor you so much strive for: bend it for his
honor and glorie, and you will sone find a chang so great that you would
not for all the kinddomes in world for goe, if you might have them at
your disposing: and do not think it out of fere and timberousnes of a
woman I perswad you to this;--no, no, it is that I scorne. I would have
you leve this bluddy way in which you are exept into, I am sure contray
to your natuer and disposition. God hath blessed you with a vartuis wife
and swet daughter, with an other sonne, I hope, if you do not distroy it
by this way you take: she can not beleve a word you speke, you have so
much deseved herselfe: she works carefully for you in sending monies
with the supply that is now in coming, though slowly: it would have bene
worse but for her. But now let me come to my selfe. If I had a world you
should command it, and whatsoever I have ore shall have it: it is all
yours by right, but, alas, I have layd out that mony I had, and mor by a
thousand ponds, by your consent in bying of Gouldsmise Grang which I am
very sory for now. I never dremed you should have neded any of my helpe,
for if I had ther should have wanted all and my selfe before you. I hop
this servant will bring us better newes of your resolutions then yett we
here of; which I pray hartily for and give almass for you that it will
pleas Allmighty God to deret your hart the best way to his honor and
glorie. I am ever
“your most loving affectionat sad Mother,
“M. BUCKINGHAM.
“To the Duke of Buckingham.”[59]
Footnote 58:
King James.
Footnote 59:
Vol. lxxv., No. 22, State Paper Office, Conway Papers.
Very different was the style in which the affectionate-hearted Duchess
thus addressed him. The characters of these two women are singularly
contrasted in these letters:--
"MY DERE LORD--Already do I begine to thinke what a longe time I shall
live without seeing you: truly there can be no greater affliction to me
in the world than your absences, and I confese you have layd a very
harde comand upon me in biding me be merey now in y absences, but I will
assure yo nothing can be harde to me when I know I pleas you in the
doing of it, thoughe outherways it would be:--remember your promis to
me, but do not deseve me, for now I believe any thinge you saye, and
love me only still, for it is impossible for woman to love mane more
than I do you, and you have left me very well satisfied w^{th} you. _My_
Lord, I have sent you a letter which I beseech you give to the
Commissioner about my sister Wasington’s deat, because without that my
Lord Savage can do nothing, and the touther is a warrant to Oliver for
the allowances you give her, w^{ch} he refuses to paye w^{th} out
one:--good my Lord, dispatch Dicke Turpin, and I shall thinke myself
infinitely obliged to you for it. I am very well, I thanke God: you
shall be sure to heare often, and do not forget to right often to me and
remember your promis, thus wishing you all happynes, I rest, your trewe
loving and obedent wife,
"K. BUCKINGHAM.
"Pray remember my duty to my Father.
“To the Duke of Buckingham.”[60]
Footnote 60:
Vol. lxvii., No. 60, Conway Papers.
CHAPTER II.
THE DELAY IN SENDING PROVISIONS--THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF REDUCING THE
CITADEL BY FAMINE--THE DUKE’S OWN MEANS WERE EMBARKED IN THE
CAUSE--SIR JOHN BURGH--HIS DEATH--LETTER OF SIR EDWARD CONWAY TO HIS
FATHER--BUCKINGHAM’S SANGUINE NATURE--EFFORTS OF SIR EDWARD
NICHOLAS.
CHAPTER II.
In spite of incessant appeals to the authorities at home, the end of
August arrived, and no provisions were received at the camp. The Duke
then addressed Sir William Becher, enclosing a letter to be shewn to the
King, stating that, if provisions did not arrive within twenty days, it
would be impossible to detain the mariners at Rhé. Provisions, the Duke
said, were getting low; and the cannon did little harm to the citadel,
which would only be subdued by famine.[61] All seemed of no avail.
“Everything,” as Sir William Becher complained to Nicholas, “seemed to
go backwards.” Even the Duke’s own money, which he had wished to advance
to the victuallers, was still kept back by his stewards; and six hundred
quarters of wheat belonging to him, which he had left at Portsmouth as a
supply, were still in that seaport. One cannot help echoing the
exclamation of Sir Edward Conway, in writing to his father, General
Conway--“If we lose this island it shall be your faults in England!”
Every letter, meantime, spoke of the carelessness of life shown by the
Duke, of the sanguine nature that encouraged others, and of his great
affection to the King, and to the cause he had undertaken.[62] The
difficulties which were encountered in getting provisions together are
almost inconceivable at the present day: the merchants refused to supply
anything that would not yield them fifteen per cent; but at last, Sir
Edward Nicholas prevailed with some Bristol speculators, his friends, to
send provisions, on condition that their men should not be pressed into
the service, and that the vessels should be laden with salt.[63] This
aid was, indeed, timely, for the troops were beginning to consider
themselves neglected and forgotten by their country.[64] And a great
loss contributed to the general dejection. Sir John Burgh, the brave
though uncourtly officer who had quarrelled with the Duke, was shot
through the body in the trenches, and killed. Sir Edward Conway, writing
to his father, thus simply, and as a true soldier, remarks, that “the
sorrow of the Duke, and the honours he doth in his burial, are
sufficient encouragements to dying.” “There was some difference” he
adds, “between Burgh and the Duke, through some inconsiderate words, on
the part of former, which were by the Duke so freely forgiven,” and
through these Conway thought “an honest man and the Duke could not be
enemies.” By Buckingham’s orders the old general’s remains were sent
home, to be interred in Westminster Abbey. “The army,” the same writer
relates, “grows daily weaker--purses are empty, ammunition consumes,
winter grows, their enemies increase in number and power, and they hear
nothing from England.”[65] At length, on the twenty-first of September a
letter[66] came from one of Buckingham’s friends, Sir Robert Pye, who,
whilst declaring that the reinforcements were in great forwardness,
begged of the Duke to “consider the end,” and to reflect on the
exhausted state of the revenue, which was forestalled, he states, for
three years; much land had been sold, all credit lost, and Government
was at the utmost shift with the commonwealth. “Would that I did not
know so much as I do,” added the courtier. Deputy-Lieutenants were
supine, and Justices of the Peace of the better sort willing to be put
out of the commission:--every man “doubting and providing for the
worst,” so that all were in a sort of panic. All these discomforts were
ascribed to the loan, and the loan was the consequence of the projected
war with France and Spain. Too late did Charles, who had hitherto left
everything to the Duke, “knit his soul unto business,” and endeavour to
provide for the fruitless contest.
Footnote 61:
State Papers, vol. lxxv., No. 53 and 57.
Footnote 62:
State Papers, 26.
Footnote 63:
Ibid., 34.
Footnote 64:
Ibid., lviiii., 65.
Footnote 65:
State Papers, vol. lxxviii., No. 71.
Footnote 66:
Edward Conway was the eldest son of the first Baron Conway of Rugby,
in the County of Warwick, and succeeded his father, an eminent and
popular Minister under James I. and Charles I.--_Burke’s Extinct
Peerage._
The month of October proved even more disastrous to the English than
September. Hopes were entertained of a surrender. Two gentlemen from the
citadel came to treat of surrendering; and, after trying to make
conditions, asked leave till the next day to consider them. The night
was dark and stormy; notice was given of the approach of an enemy; the
Duke put out to sea himself, but the barques took a wrong direction, and
the enemy’s fleet of thirty-five barques broke through that of the
English, and the Admiral of the Fleet was taken prisoner. Fourteen or
fifteen of the enemy’s barques, however, furnished with a month’s
provisions, got through to the citadel, which was thus relieved. On
account of the sickness produced by the immoderate eating of grapes, and
also considering the uncertainty of supplies from England, there were
many of the Colonels who now recommended retiring from before Rhé; and
so discouraged was the Duke at this failure, that he was on the point of
going back to England, when an offer from the citizens of La Rochelle to
take a thousand sick into their town, and to send to the camp five
hundred men with provisions, encouraged him to wait for reinforcements.
On this incident the fortune of the whole siege seemed to hinge, and it
must have been extremely tantalizing, when the citadel was on the very
eve of surrendering, to find that relief had been poured into it by the
enemy. No one could imagine how it had been managed. There was a nightly
watch of six hundred boats; the Duke was generally among the men in
these boats, or in the trenches, till near midnight; even the common
sailors pitied his exertions, and felt for his anxieties. Then there was
a battery of seven cannon, that fired upon the very landing-place,
beneath the Fort, besides sunken collies that played on the same spot.
The wind was then fair for Rhé, and the merchant ships that had been
hired were making for the Island; but the others were detained, since no
supplies from England had arrived to enable them to act. In the midst of
all his uncertainties the following letter from the Duchess was
despatched to the Duke:--
"MY LORD--I ded the last night here very good nwse that you had taken
the ships w^{ch} cam to releve the fort, which I hope will so much
discurage them as now they will be out of all hope, and quickly yeelde
it upe, and then I hope you will remember your promise in making hast
home, for I will assure you both for the publicke, and our private good
here in cort, ther is great neede of you, for your great Lady,[67] that
you believe is so much your frend, uses your frends something worse then
when you were here, and your favour has made her so great as now shee
cares for nobody: and poore Gordon is the basist used that ever any
creature was, for now you ar not here to take his part they do flie most
fercly uppon him, but when you com I hope all things will be mended. I
pray say nothing of this, and be sure to burne this leter when you have
rede it. I thanke God I am very well. Mall is very well, I thanke God. I
thanke you for the orange water you sent me, but yett I dare not us it
coming from the Governor,[68] thus praying for your health, in hast, I
rest
“your trewe loving and obedent wife,
“K. BUCKINGHAM.
“10th Octr.”
1627(?)--(_on the back of the original letter in pencil._)
Footnote 67:
Probably Lady Hatton.
Footnote 68:
The Governor of La Rochelle, whom the Duchess seems to have
mistrusted.
Whilst money was thus called for in vain, to carry on the war, the
defences at home were daily becoming more and more ruinous. The castles
in the Downs were in danger of being swallowed by the sea: and water got
into the moat of Deal Castle; the Lanthorn of that fort was wholly
destroyed, the loss of which, being a sea-mark, was a source of bitter
complaint; Walmer Castle was in ruins.[69] Friends there were who wrote
to Buckingham to urge strongly on his attention all that was threatening
the country, and to suggest his return; amongst these the Viscount
Wilmot[70] was one whose expressions were modified by great kindness,
and evident partiality for the Duke; whilst advice came less graciously
from Viscount Wimbledon, whose recent failure must have rendered his
comments on the affair far from palatable.
Footnote 69:
State Papers, vol. lxxxv., No. 7.
Footnote 70:
Viscount Wilmot of Athlone, here referred to, was the grandfather of
John Wilmot, the dissolute, yet penitent, Earl of Rochester, whose
death has been described by Bishop Burnet.
Before his letter of suggestion and advice could have arrived,
Buckingham had, however, consented to a retreat. The state of despair
into which his troops had been thrown by the reinforcement of the
citadel, and their discovery of the false representations of the amount
of provisions on which the besieged could count, induced him to take
this fatal step. Presently, however, better information was obtained;
and though the sick had been sent into La Rochelle, and the ordnance
embarked, the vacillating Duke again determined to “stay and bide it
out.”
In the midst of this perplexity, on the fifteenth of October, a valuable
auxiliary was sent in the person of Charles, Viscount Wilmot.[71] Lord
Holland also set sail, but the Duke now found it difficult to persuade
the men to await the long promised assistance. “Pity our misery!” was
their cry. The people were “looking themselves and their perspectives”
(as telescopes were then styled) “blind in watching for Lord Holland
from the tops of houses;” yet that nobleman lingered at Portsmouth,
pretending to believe that Buckingham, who, he said, he knew “would stay
till the last _bite_,” might be supplied with victuals from the west.
Then he feared also, as he stated, that the Duke might have sailed
towards home; that he was ill supplied with provisions; and that he
might be obliged to put back into France or Spain. The King, meantime,
was wondering and asking why Holland lingered first at Portsmouth and
then in the Downs? Charles’s impatience was expressed with a force
unusual to his gentle character. Until the eighteenth of October, no one
in England, it appears, knew of the great distress into which Buckingham
and the forces were plunged by the failure of the supplies.[72]
Footnote 71:
Letter from Viscount Wilmot to Secretary Conway, State Papers, vol.
lxxx. No. 55.
Footnote 72:
State Papers, lxxxii., vol. 18.
Whilst the wind was against the Duke’s return, no one could suppose that
he would throw up the whole end of the expedition, and sail homewards;
yet reports of his preparing to do so continually got abroad, as may be
seen from the following letters from the Countess of Denbigh,
Buckingham’s only sister, by whom he was much beloved:--
“MOUST DEERE BROTHER--I hope these nue supplys will give you such
advantage to you, that your busines will be ended to your honer and
contentment. I pray be not be to hasty to ingage your selfe in any other
afares till you see howe you shall be supplyed. I would you could but
see our afares here: wee ar sometymes for Ware, some tymes a showe of
Peace: poor I must be patiend: I have much to speeke to lett you knowe
of all particulars, but I am a bad relater of thinges. I will promis you
to play my part in patience, and when you com you well not be lede away
with them that doth not love you, and be false to you and all yours. I
pray God to bles you: forgit not to rede of the booke I gave you, and if
you will take phisick this fall of the leafe you shall do very well, so
I take my leave.
“your loving sister,
“20th Octr. 1627. SU. DENBIGH.” [73]
“To the Duke of Buckingham.”
Footnote 73:
State Papers, vol. lxxxii. 39.
“MOUST DEERE BROTHER--I hope you will be sure of supplyes before you
undertake to go to Rocchell, for ether ther hath beene some grate
mistake or neglicte: that you [should have beene] in any distrecs,
it doth grefe my very hart and sole. I heare you have beene in great
wantes, but I hope before this you are released. I pray be not to
venterus, and I hope you well not forgit the booke I gave you, to
looke over it often, at the leaste morning and evening, so with my
best love, I take my leave.
“your loveing sister,
“26th Octr. 1627. SU. DENBIGH.”
“To the Duke of Buckingham, my deere Brother.”[74]
Footnote 74:
Vol. lxxxiii, No. 3.
It must have been peculiarly aggravating, amidst the anxieties of
the Duchess and Lady Denbigh, to find that all the Duke’s
perplexities, privations, and sufferings had not in the slightest
degree mitigated his unpopularity at home. It must have been still
more irritating to know that, whilst the troops before St. Martin’s
Fort were in a state of starvation, there was the greatest disorder
and carelessness in sending the supplies. “There is,” Lord Wilmot
wrote to Conway, “neither commissary of victuals, nor any one to
give account of arms. They find one thousand muskets, but no pikes
nor armour.” Meantime the Duke’s army were in want of clothes, and
mostly went barefoot.[75] Then Lord Holland, when at last on board
the fleet, complained that there was no one officer or creature who
could tell what there was aboard the provision ships, five of which
were Dutch, and might steal away at any moment. There seems to have
been neither patriotism at home, in regard to this expedition, nor
honour in allies, nor even common honesty in the commanders of hired
vessels.
Footnote 75:
Letter from Lord Wilmot to Secretary Conway, State Papers, No. 45.
For several days the wind continued contrary to Lord Holland’s
departure from Plymouth. The twenty-sixth of October had arrived,
and the Duke, as it appeared from private letters, had "stayed it
out till the last bit of bread:"--such is the expression of John
Ashburnham, a devoted partisan of Buckingham’s: fears were even
entertained that the fleet and army were lost; then “such a rotten,
miserable fleet set out to sea as no man ever saw;” “our enemies,”
Ashburnham adds, “seeing it, may scoff at our nation.” Lord Holland,
who had been expected by the Duke on the fifteenth, was still
waiting for a fair wind at Plymouth on the twenty-seventh,[76]
employing himself there in trying to expedite recruits, and to send
out a Scottish regiment. “In his responsibility” (as he wrote to the
King) "he had provided two or three hundred live sheep, to go out
for the sick men, who die for want of fresh meat;"--“three thousand
pairs of stockings for the men in the trenches; physic also, and an
apothecary.” Despair, however, possessed all minds; and a report now
began to disquiet even the sanguine, stating that the French were
landing an army on the Island of Rhé. The report was true; one fatal
mistake had been made by Buckingham--he had left the fort of St. Pré
unmolested.
Footnote 76:
State Papers, No. 3 and 8.
This castle, seated, as its name bespeaks, in a meadow, had appeared
too paltry a conquest to the sanguine and impetuous Buckingham, when
he had first landed at Rhé. He had passed it untouched, but it was
now well garrisoned with French troops from the mainland; still its
importance was not fully comprehended until the fatal moment came
for a retreat from before Fort St. Martin. It is evident that the
Duke had overlooked that which should have been a preliminary step
in his march; and that his attention had been distracted by an
undertaking too arduous for a man whose life had been passed in a
very different battle-field from that on which he now ventured his
fortunes. Hitherto, he had been a mere civilian, knowing nothing of
war, but in the Tourney--nothing of nautical matters, but in
gala-vessels, or some favourite ship; and little of the sea, but on
maps. Well might his mother caution him not to engage in too “great
business;” it was not, in his case, an idle warning, but desperation
had impelled him to make the fatal experiment of being at once
General and Admiral in a contest with warriors so perfect as the
French. Had he been reinforced in good time,--had the measures at
home been directed by energy, or even by good faith merely---the
events which so overclouded his later actions with a shade of shame
might not have happened. From the moment when the French occupied
the Fort St. Pré, the game was, however, virtually lost.
Meantime, Charles I., it is manifest from his letters to Lord
Holland, was beginning to be seriously displeased with the
negligence of the Commissariat Department. He was also desirous of
impressing Lord Holland, not only with the great importance of the
result of the expedition, but likewise of his anxiety for the safety
of the Duke, “to whom,” the King writes, “whosoever does the best
service is the most happy, be it for life or death.”[77]
Footnote 77:
State Papers,--Letter of Secretary Conway to the Earl of Holland,
vol. lxxxiii., No. 12.
So late as the latter end of October, Buckingham was resolved either
to stay in the island if supplies came,--or, if they did not arrive,
to put himself and the army into La Rochelle, and “run their
fortune.”[78] This was his last resolution. At one time he had fully
determined on leaving, for some of his soldiers were barefooted:
others were sick of the siege, and had neither bread, meat, nor
beer; but the Duc de Soubise had re-assured him, and, promising
eight hundred men from La Rochelle, had encouraged Buckingham to
decide on scaling the Fort St. Martin.[79] Meantime, Lord Holland
did not appear: he was still at Plymouth. Contrary to the advice of
the mariners, he had forced the whole fleet out of the Catwaters
into Plymouth Sound; but it was driven back by the “cruellest
storms” of twenty hours’ duration that had ever been known. Great
damage was done: it was now necessary to stay to repair the crazy
ships--the wind, as Lord Wilmot expressed it, “did so overblow.” The
violence of the elements, and the knavery or indifference of man,
seemed combined to keep back aid from the hungry soldiers in the
Island of Rhé, and to ruin their general.
Footnote 78:
Ibid., No. 17.
Footnote 79:
Ibid., No. 27.
Perhaps the best, or, as many persons think, the only excuse for
Buckingham in the step he eventually took, is contained in a
touching letter from Sir Allen Apsley to “Honest Nicholas.” Apsley,
described in one of the letters from the camp as “very sick and
melancholy,” dates his letter “from his sick and lately senseless
bed on board the Nonsuch.”[80] “No man,” he begins by saying, “has
he more cause more faithfully and more affectionately to love than
Nicholas.” “His soul melts with tears to think that a State should
send so many men, and no provision at all for them. But for
Nicholas’s provision, through merchants, they had been miserably
starved long since.” He then goes on to relate that “there were
about five thousand seamen and four thousand landsmen in great
distress for meat and drink. The army had already lost four thousand
men, and all their commanders.”
Footnote 80:
State Papers. The letter is dated Nov. 1, 1627. Vol. lxxxiv., No.
1.
A sort of responsive testimony to the Duke’s sufferings, and to the
cruel neglect of the authorities at home, is conveyed in a letter
from William, Earl of Exeter, to Buckingham. “What cannot be
obtained by your courage,” writes the descendant of the great
Burleigh, “must in the end be submitted to your patience.” If the
Duke “sowed onions, he would be sure of onions; if he sowed men,
they are in danger, for the most part, to come up ingrates.” “The
indolence,” he adds, “which his highness has cause to resent, is as
great infidelity as is that of commission.” Then he cites examples
of great generals, who, without loss of honour, abandoned
enterprizes which could not be accomplished; what the Duke had
already done was, he said, “miraculous.”[81]
Footnote 81:
State Papers, Ibid., Nov. 16. Dated London, Nov. 3.
Neither did the Duke receive any encouragement to remain, even from
one of his best friends, Sir George Goring, the faithful adherent in
the great rebellion of Charles I.[82] Goring had, in a former
letter, represented to the Duke how futile would be any dependence
on supplies; for the “City,” he wrote, “whence all present money
must now be raised, is so infected by the malignant part of this
kingdom, that no man will lend any money upon any security, if they
think it will go the way of the Court, which is now made diverse
from the State--such is the present distemper.” The King, it was
said, might choose to break all his bonds, “and then, when should
they be paid?” Under these circumstances, Goring strongly advised
the Duke to return home, and “to curb the insolence of the French
some other way.”[83]
Footnote 82:
He was afterwards successively Baron Goring and Earl of Norwich;
his son, General Goring, whose character is so ably drawn by
Clarendon, pre-deceased his father by two years; both titles
became extinct in 1672.--_Burke’s Extinct Peerage._
Footnote 83:
State Papers, vol. lxxxiv., No. 20.
On the very day on which this letter was written, a newsletter,
dated on board the Triumph, in the Road of Rhé, announced that the
embarkation of the troops had already taken place. La Rochelle had
by that time been completely blockaded by the French--too late it
had declared for the English. For the safety of that city it was
essential that Buckingham should remain; but, although he has been
almost universally condemned for retiring, it is evident that the
want of provisions, and the delay of reinforcements from England,
extenuate, if they do not wholly justify, that step. He had now been
expecting Lord Holland’s arrival for nearly a fortnight, and Lord
Holland was still at Teignmouth--having been again driven back by
contrary winds.[84]
Footnote 84:
Nov. 6.
During all this time, no words could describe all the distress of
mind suffered by Buckingham better than those of his biographer and
attached adherent, Sir Henry Wotton. “In his countenance, which is
the part that all eyes interpret, no open alteration,” even after
his reverses, could be detected, but the suppressed feelings were
the more poignant for that disguise.
“For certain it is,” adds Sir Henry, “that to his often-mentioned
secretary, Dr. Mason, whom he had in pallet near him, for natural
ventilation of all his thoughts, he broke out into passionate
expressions of anguish, declaring, in the absence of all other ears
and eyes, ‘that never his dispatches to divers princes, nor the
great business of a fleet, of an army, of a siege, of a treaty, of
war, of peace, both on foot together, and all of them in his head at
a time, did not so much trouble his repose as a conceit that some at
home, under His Majesty, of whom he had well deserved, were now
content to forget him.’”[85]
Footnote 85:
Reliquiæ Wottonianæ, p. 227.
Wotton partly ascribes the Duke’s failure to one cause--an
improvident confidence, brought with him from a Court where fortune
had never deceived him. Besides, he adds, “We must consider him yet
but rude in the profession of arms, though greatly of honour, and
zealous in the cause.”
By others he is considered to have committed an error in not having
first attacked the Isle of Oléron, which was not only weakly
garrisoned, but well supplied with wine and oil, and other
provisions. But his great mistakes arose from his impulsive
nature--a disposition often the concomitant of energy. Without
waiting for the advice of Soubise, he had invested St. Martin’s; in
marching to St. Martin’s, he had overlooked the Meadow Castle, as
St. Pré was called by his soldiers; and that fort was now the chief
impediment to his retreat.
Having been urged in vain by Soubise to remain, Buckingham aimed one
last blow. He attempted to storm Fort St. Martin. He was perhaps
incited to this rash and fruitless act by the taunting conduct of
the besieged, who, knowing that he intended to starve them into
submission, hung provisions on the walls. No breach was made, and
the assault had no other result than the loss of soldiers. A retreat
was then decided on. The forces could not now return by St. Pré, and
a new route was to be taken. A causeway amid deep salt-marches was
their only choice; and this causeway, or mound, was terminated by a
bridge that joined to Rhé the second island of Vié. Here no fort to
protect the bridge had been erected, and there was therefore no
passage over to Vié. The French had all this time been close in
pursuit. Buckingham was in the rear, and, as a contemporary
observed, “had like to have been snapped,”[86] if he had not ridden
through the troops on the narrow causeway, where more than eight or
ten could not ride abreast. It was not until the English had reached
the Island of Vié that the French chose to attack them; then the
delay of forming a bridge gave the pursuers time to make their onset
with an advantage they could not have had on the causeway, where a
handful of men might have set at defiance a host. The French drove
the English horse on Sir Charles Birch’s regiment of foot, and both
he and Sir John Radcliffe were killed. A hot skirmish ensued. “Our
men,” says a newsletter, “spoiled one another, and more were drowned
than slain. The Duke was the last man in the rear, and carried
himself beyond expression bravely.”[87] Ultimately the bridge was
made good, and on the following day the embarkation of the
crest-fallen English was safely effected. Buckingham was of course
blamed by one faction, and excused by the other, for this failure.
Denzil, afterwards Lord Holles, the great leader of the Presbyterian
party, a man who, during his whole life, never changed sides,
censured him in forcible terms, quoting the words of one whom he
styles “a prophet of their own sides,” in saying that the enterprize
was “ill begun, badly carried on, and the result accordingly most
lamentable.” “It was a thousand to one,” Holles adds, “that all our
ships had not been lost.” Ten days’ provision alone remained; when
that was exhausted the Duke must have submitted to the enemy.[88] No
one disputed Buckingham’s courage; he brought back, as Hume
expresses it, “the vulgar praise of courage and personal bravery.”
He was justly, nevertheless, condemned for the risk he ran in the
retreat; for, it was said, had the General been lost, what would
have become of the troops, who had retreated in disorder?
Footnote 86:
Letter of Denzil Holles to Sir Thomas Wentworth. Strafford
Letters, vol. i., p. 42.
Footnote 87:
News Letter, State Papers, Ibid., No. 24.
Footnote 88:
Strafford Letters.
The letters in the State-Paper Office, to which reference has been
made, though they do not refute the charge that the enterprize was
“ill begun,” exonerate Buckingham, nevertheless, from much blame: he
had every reason to expect reinforcements, for which he was
continually begging; no Commander-in-Chief was ever left in a
predicament more cruel; and he was justified in retiring by the
certainty that provisions must soon fail, and the uncertainty of any
fresh supply from the tardy and corrupt authorities at home.
The confusion in the retreat was stated to be such that “no man,”
Denzil Holles wrote, “can tell what was done, nor no account can be
given how any man was lost--not the lieutenant-colonel how his
colonel, nor lieutenant how his captain, which was a sign that
things were ill carried.” “This every man alone knows--that since
England was England, it received not so dishonourable a blow.”
The loss was indeed severe; thirty standards had been taken, but
more lost; four colonels killed, and about two thousand of our men
perished during the retreat.
On the tenth of November the fleet left Rhé, and on the twelfth it
was seen in Portsmouth Roads, Buckingham’s ship, the Triumph, being
distinguished. The Duke, however, who was returning home under such
painful circumstances, was not in that vessel. As the fleet neared
Plymouth, he quitted his ship, and, getting into a ketch, went into
the port, in order to gather some account why the succours so long
expected at St. Martin’s had never arrived. He had also another step
to take--that of sending off an immediate despatch to the King, in
order that His Majesty might be apprized by himself alone of the
great loss and failure incurred in the attempt on Rhé. The messenger
was sworn, on forfeiture of his head, to secrecy.[89]
Footnote 89:
State Papers, vol. lxxxv., No. 56 and 57.
“Charles received the news,” Conway wrote, in reply, “with the
wisdom, courage, and constancy of a great king, and has declared so
much kingly justice and goodness, with affection, to the Duke, as
renders his grace, in the king’s judgment, and in the opinion of all
those who heard him, clear from all imputation, and honoured by his
actions: all guiltiness remaining upon this State for whatsoever
fault or misconduct is come to that army.” Considering the delay in
sending succour, the event was thought to have been better than
could have been expected.[90]
Footnote 90:
State Papers, vol. lxxxv., No. 67.
A letter soon followed from Sir Edward Nicholas, informing the Duke
that, six weeks ago, the state of provisions at Rhé was mentioned to
the King and the Lords, “but was not credited.” He recommended his
patron to do nothing until after his arrival in London: all things
were at a stand, he says, until the Duke should give them “life and
direction.” Secretary Conway, in a letter to his son, even “joyed”
to find so few had been killed, and so little, “in point of honour,”
lost, taking the greatest loss to be in the quality of some half
dozen persons.[91]
Footnote 91:
Ibid., No. 74.
Three days after the Duke had landed at Plymouth, the Duchess wrote
to him:--
"MY LORD--Sence I hurd the newse of thy landing I have bine still
every hower looking for you, that I cannot now till I see you sleepe
in the nights, for every minite, if I do here any noyes, I think it
is on from you, to tell me the happy newes what day I shall see you,
for I confese I longe for it w^{th} much imptience. I was in great
hope that the bisnes you had to do at Portsmouth wood a bine don in
a day, and then I should a seene you here to-morrow, but now I
cannot tell when to expect you. My Lord, there has bine such ill
reports made of the great lose you have had by the man that came
furst, as your frends desiers you wood com to clere all w^{th} all
speede: you may leve some of the Lords there to se what you give
order for don, and you need not stay yourself any longer:--this,
beseeching you to com hether on Sunday or Munday w^{th}out all
fayle. I rest yours,
“true loving and obedent wife,
“K. BUCKINGHAM.
"Mr. Maule desires you to com to the King, though you stay but on
night, for they were never so busie as now.
“To the Duke of Buckingham.”[92]
Footnote 92:
State Papers, vol. lxxxvi., No. 80.
Many were the welcomes offered to the Duke on his return. Henry,
Earl of Manchester, “hoped that God had preserved him to add to his
honour;” and begged him not to be discouraged, for no captain nor
general could play his part better; Sir James Bagge declared that
the Duke was “dearer to him than children, wife, or life;” and Mr.
Mohun and Sir Bernard Granville “will put down their lives and
fortunes,” they wrote, “at the Duke’s feet.”[93]
Footnote 93:
State Papers, vol. lxxxvi., No. 93.
It seems, however,from the following letter--half reproachful, yet
ever affectionate--that some time passed before the Duke saw his
wife, and that even then he had thoughts of returning to Rhé:--
"MY DERE LORD--I was in great hope by on of your leters that I
should a hade the happynes to a sene you this weeke, but sences I
have not had it confirmed by any more, and in this I received by my
lady’s mane I was in hope wood a tould me sartanly when I should a
had the happnes to a sene you, but your leter not saying on worde
makes me begine now to fere that you have but deceived me all this
whill in giving me assurances that you deed not, and now I begine to
be much greeved that you wood not a tould me the truth; but yet I
cannot absolutly dispare, because I hope you will yett be as good as
your word, for I confese, if you should go, I should not have a
stout hart. My Lord, these too cusens of yours desires you to accept
of there servis, and lett them go w^{th} you, for thay had rather
venter ther lives w^{th} you than stay behind, but I hope you will
put them in some way for ther advancement, for thay deserve very
well, and I hope will till the last. I am very well, I thanke God,
and ever
“your trewe loving and obedent wife,
“K. BUCKINGHAM.[94]
“To the Duke of Buckingham.”
Footnote 94:
State Papers, vol. lxvii., No. 96--Conway Papers.
It is a terrible state when esteem and affection are opposed; for,
in a woman’s heart the latter is sure to gain the ascendancy.
Allowance must, however, be made for the Duke’s almost overwhelming
occupations at this time, and for the harassed state of his mind,
which prevented him writing to his wife.
Upon arriving in Plymouth, Buckingham, however, experienced a
greater act of friendship than any mere welcome in words. The
warmest and most estimable of his friends was Sir George Goring, one
of those true-hearted Cavaliers of whom Englishmen of every party
may be truly proud. To Goring the Duke left, in some measure, the
care of his mother, when he sailed for La Rochelle. Goring’s
blessings had followed the Duke on his voyage. “My dearest Lord,”
are the terms in which Goring addressed him; and he showed that he
was, as he himself wrote, faithful in every point to him for whom he
professed friendship.
The incident which now occurred rests on the authority of Sir Henry
Wotton, the long-trusted servant of James I., and the devoted
adherent of Buckingham, by whose influence he had been made Provost
of Eton.
Scarcely had Buckingham set off from Plymouth, on his way to London,
than a messenger, sent in haste from Goring, warned him not to take
the usual road, for that his friend had authentic information that a
design upon his life would be attempted on his journey. The Duke
received the letter when on horseback, and, crushing it into his
pocket, without the slightest sign of apprehension, rode on. He was
attended by seven or eight gentlemen only; and they were merely
provided with the swords they usually wore, and had no other means
of defence. There was one among them, however, who was personally
bound to the Duke by ties of kindness and affection; this was his
nephew, the young Lord Fielding, the son of that sister who had wept
when she saw that the Duke was not at chapel with the King. The most
cordial union, indeed, existed between all the members of the
Villiers’ family; and they were bound by gratitude as well as by
affection to the Duke.
The party rode on, when, about three miles from the town, they were
stopped by an aged woman, who came out of a house on the road, and
asked “whether the Duke were in the company?” Buckingham was pointed
out to her; and she then, coming close up to his saddle, told him
that in the very next town through which he was to pass she had
heard some desperate men “vow his death;” she therefore advised him
to take another road, which she offered to show him.
This circumstance, added to the warning letter sent by Goring,
greatly impressed those around the Duke; and they entreated him to
take the old woman’s advice. But whether from his usual recklessness
of consequences, or from an idea that his showing fear would provoke
taunts from his enemies, does not appear; the Duke obstinately
refused to comply. And yet this “strange accident,” as Wotton calls
it, was the more remarkable, as it was a sort of prelude to his
fate, and in itself was of importance to a man whose unpopularity
before he left England was now, at his return, tenfold more general
than it had ever been during his career.
As they were disputing, the Duke still resolute, his young nephew,
Fielding, went up to him, and entreated him to honour him by giving
him his coat and the blue ribbon of the Garter, that he might wear
them through the town; and he urged his request by pleading that the
Duke’s life, in which the welfare of the whole family was concerned,
was the most “precious thing under Heaven.” He declared that he
could so muffle himself up in the Duke’s hood, in the way his uncle
was accustomed to do in cold weather, that no one could fail to be
deceived--so that, attention being withdrawn, the Duke would be able
to defend himself.
The Duke caught the noble-spirited youth in his arms, and kissed
him. “Yet,” he said, “he would not accept that offer from a nephew
whose life he valued as he did his own;” then rewarding the poor
woman for her good-will to him, he gave orders to his retinue how to
act in case of attack, and rode calmly onwards.
Scarcely had he entered the town, when a half-drunken soldier caught
hold of his bridle, as if he wanted to beg; instantly a gentleman of
the Duke’s train, though at some distance, rode up, and, with a
violent thrust, severed the man from the Duke, who, with the others,
galloped quickly through the streets. Either from his usual
indifference to danger, or fearing, as Sir Henry Wotton says, to
“resent discontentments too deep” to be allayed, no notice was taken
of this incident of Buckingham’s journey to London,[95] nor any
inquiries made as to the projected assassination.
Footnote 95:
Reliquiæ Wottonianæ, p. 230.
On his return to Court, the king received him graciously; no change
appeared in the outward demeanour of those who met him; but his
horse regiment had been composed of the sons of the noblest families
in the land, and smothered regrets for the loss of “such gallant
gentlemen” were as prevalent amid the higher classes, as deep
resentment was in the indignant and vehement lower orders of
society.
“The effects of this overthrow,” Lord Clarendon observes, “did not
at first appear in whispers, murmurs, and invectives, as the retreat
from Cadiz had done; but produced such a general consternation over
the face of the whole nation, as if all the armies of France and
Spain were united together, and had covered the land.”[96]
Footnote 96:
Clarendon, vol. i. p. 40-1.
Charles was, however, resolved to see no fault in his favourite, to
acknowledge no disgrace; with a confidence in the Duke that would
have done honour to a private friendship, he wrote to him, saying,
that with “whatever ill success he came, he should ever be
welcome--one of his greatest griefs being that he was not with him
in that time of trial, as they might have much eased each other’s
griefs.” Adding, that the Duke “had gained, in his mind, as much
reputation as if he had performed all his desires.”[97] The terms on
which they stood towards each other were those of one young man
towards another--his companion in pleasures and pursuits, his
fellow-traveller, his confidant--not those existing between a
sovereign and a trusted subject, amenable to public opinion.
Footnote 97:
State Papers, vol lxxxv., No. 10 and 11.
The step which Buckingham took, on his arrival in London, was to ask
immediately for a public audience with the King and Lords in
Council. Then he plunged at once into the subject about which the
country was in a ferment. He “delivered a clear account of the
passages, descending even to the good and bold actions of private
soldiers.” He extolled the patience of the army, and “the fair
opportunity offered of turning their sufferings into glory, if their
virtue had been seconded with the power and succours designed for
it.” He named every officer in terms of great praise; and if both
officers and men were sensible of “the honours and obligations done
them by the Duke, they would,” Conway wrote, “live with their
swords, or die with them in their hand, to pay him that duty.” The
King, also, put the “right interpretation on the Duke’s actions.”
This open way of forestalling criticism, and, perhaps, impeachment,
was certainly as sagacious as it was fearless.
The Duke, before leaving the coast, had provided carefully for the
soldiers who were sick and wounded, and amongst whom a fearful
infectious disease prevailed, so that those in whose houses men were
billeted died of the same malady. A storm soon damaged fifteen or
sixteen of those fated ships which had returned from Rhé: and such
was the poverty of the State, that, so late as the fifth of January,
1620, we find the sailors, who had deserved so much from their
country, ill from want of clothes.[98] There was no money for their
pay, which was in arrears; there arose, of course, a mutinous spirit
among them. The sailors were so destitute of clothing, that they
would not do their duty in their ships, and many fell dead into the
harbours. Still money could not be raised, although every possible
expedient to obtain it was employed by the King. Among others who
supplied him was Sir Francis Crane, Garter King-at-Arms, to whom
Charles gave certain royal manors for security, to the extent of
seven thousand five hundred pounds.
Footnote 98:
State Papers, vol. xc., No. 5.
The Court was now both dull and partially deserted; the beautiful
masques of Ben Jonson were no longer called into requisition: they
had been discontinued since 1626, and were not resumed until two
years after Buckingham had ceased to exist; and the only diversion
specified for the Christmas festivity of this, his last Christmas,
was “a running masque,” to be performed on a Sunday, hastily got up,
and of no particular note.[99]
Footnote 99:
State Papers, vol. xc., No. 10.
Throughout the whole of the winter, the condition of the navy was
the incessant theme of Buckingham’s various official correspondents.
“Many of the men,” writes Sir Henry Mervyn, “for want of clothes,
are so exposed to the weather, that their toes and feet miserably
rot away piecemeal.” Yet a fresh expedition was, so early as the
twelfth of January, in contemplation; and, hearing this, the French
prisoners, to whom an allowance of eightpence a-day was given,
refused to go back, as they said there would soon be a fleet fitted
out for La Rochelle. Meanwhile news arrived of great naval
preparations in France, and the sailing from Bordeaux of ships which
were to be sunk in the Channel before La Rochelle.
During all these troubles, and whilst a storm hovered over him, an
heir was granted to the parents, who were anxious for the boon--and
George, the second Duke of Buckingham, of the house of Villiers, was
born. Owing to the death of his elder brother, Charles, when an
infant, his birth was a source of great delight to the Duke and
Duchess.[100] And great need was there for all that could solace the
days that were now numbered. All that had been brilliant in the
career of Buckingham had faded into gloom; the country was justly
irritated by the measures which he had recommended--the war, the
impressment of seamen, the scheme for granting to the King the
tonnage and poundage for the Customs during Charles’s life--were
subjects which kept all classes--some from anger, some from fear--in
continual agitation. The impressment of seamen had formerly been
applied only to the lower classes; but they had been taught by the
higher orders, who had felt the burden of oppression themselves, to
understand their condition and their rights, and a determined spirit
of resistance ensued; yet it must, in justice, before we draw our
conclusions, be remembered, that the Government was only indirectly
responsible for the present shattered condition of the navy, and for
the depth of misery into which the brave sailors had sunk.
Generally, the great business of setting out ships had been charged
on the port towns and neighbouring shires, but it was now too heavy
a burden on them to bear. The Privy Council, therefore, cast up the
whole charge of the fleet, which was prepared in February, 1628, and
divided it among all the counties.[101]
Footnote 100:
This event took place on or before the 2nd of February, 1628 (when
Sir John Hippisley wished “the Duke joy of his young son”), and
not on the 30th of January, as is usually stated.
Footnote 101:
See State Papers, vol. xcii., No 88. The county of Anglesea was to
be charged 111_l._; the money, as the King’s letter intimated, was
to be paid before the 1st of March.
Neither does it appear that there was in the expenses of the navy,
even during the time of war, any extravagance. The error was in the
original neglect of the maritime forces, and injustice to a noble
profession; the ruin incident to total indifference to its
maintenance during the reign of James I. Had not Buckingham, in a
few brief years, done much towards its renovation, the naval power
would have been almost extinct.
Whilst at Rochelle, he had placed the affairs of the navy in the
hands of commissioners. On the 28th of February (1681) the Council
called for these commissioners, and gave them “the King’s thanks
for past services, letting them know that it was his pleasure in
these stirring times to use again the ancient offices of the
Admiralty.”[102] The commissioners, on retiring, gave in their
certificates, signed by the Duke as Lord Admiral, of the expenses
of the navy, both ordinary and extraordinary, in harbours, and the
ordinary at sea, containing six ships and four pinnaces, for the
year 1628. It amounted to forty thousand, eight hundred, and
seventy-six pounds, fourteen shillings and fourpence[103]--the
rest of the fleet being supplied by merchants, and paid by local
contributions. But the country was little disposed to view any
point with leniency. Their grievances were, indeed, almost daily
increasing; and whilst the landholders were impoverished, the loss
of all commerce between England and France completely alienated
the mercantile community from the Court.
Footnote 102:
State Papers, xciv., No. 57.
Footnote 103:
Ibid., 108.
A Parliament was summoned. During the preceding year the Duchess of
Buckingham had apprehended great danger to the Duke in allowing the
commission of inquiry into the affairs of the navy to drop; and had
expressed her fears that the abuses brought to light, and
unremedied, might hereafter be laid on the Duke.[104] There had been
no time then, in the hurry of the ill-starred expedition to
Rochelle, to complete that inquiry; but the Duchess’s fears were
indeed realized, when, after the Petition of Right had been passed
by both Houses, the King went to the House of Lords, sent for the
Commons, and then, in his chair of state, and when the Petition had
been read to him, instead of giving his consent to the bill in the
concise form in which the monarch, in Norman French, declares that
“Le Roy le veult,” delivered an evasive answer, promising much, but
signifying nothing.
Footnote 104:
State Papers, vol. lxii., No. 7. Dated May 7, 1627.