Felton, the a.s.sa.s.sin of the Duke of Buckingham, by the growing republican party was hailed as a Brutus, rising, in the style of a patriotic bard,

Refulgent from the stroke.--AKENSIDE.

Gibbon has thrown a shade of suspicion even over Brutus's "G.o.d-like stroke," as Pope has exalted it. In Felton, a man acting from mixed and confused motives, the political martyr is entirely lost in the contrite penitent; he was, however, considered in his own day as a being almost beyond humanity. Mrs. Macaulay has called him a "lunatic," because the duke had not been a.s.sa.s.sinated on the right principle. His motives appeared even inconceivable to his contemporaries; for Sir Henry Wotton, who has written a Life of the Duke of Buckingham, observes, that "what may have been the immediate or greatest motive of that felonious conception (the duke's a.s.sa.s.sination) is even yet in the clouds." After ascertaining that it was not private revenge, he seems to conclude that it was Dr. Eglisham's furious "libel," and the "remonstrance" of the parliament, which, having made the duke "one of the foulest monsters on earth," worked on the dark imagination of Felton.

From Felton's memorable example, and some similar ones, one observation occurs worth the notice of every minister of state who dares the popular odium he has raised. Such a minister will always be in present danger of a violent termination to his career; for however he may be convinced that there is not political virtue enough in a whole people to afford "the G.o.d-like stroke," he will always have to dread the arm of some melancholy enthusiast, whose mind, secretly agitated by the public indignation, directs itself solely on him. It was some time after having written this reflection, that I discovered the following notice of the Duke of Buckingham in the unpublished Life of Sir Symonds D'Ewes. "Some of his friends had advised him how generally he was hated in England, and how needful it would be for his greater safety to wear some coat of mail, or some other secret defensive armour, which the duke slighting, said, 'It needs not; there are no Roman spirits left.'"[246]

An account of the contemporary feelings which sympathised with Felton, and almost sanctioned the a.s.sa.s.sin's deed, I gather from the MS. letters of the times. The public mind, through a long state of discontent, had been prepared for, and not without an obscure expectation of, the mortal end of Buckingham. It is certain the duke received many warnings which he despised. The a.s.sa.s.sination kindled a tumult of joy throughout the nation, and a state-libel was written in strong characters in the faces of the people.[247] The pa.s.sage of Felton to London, after the a.s.sa.s.sination, seemed a triumph. Now pitied, and now blessed, mothers held up their children to behold the saviour of the country; and an old woman exclaimed, as Felton pa.s.sed her, with a scriptural allusion to his short stature, and the mightiness of Buckingham, "G.o.d bless thee, little David!" Felton was nearly sainted before he reached the metropolis. His health was the reigning toast among the republicans. A character, somewhat remarkable, Alexander Gill (usher under his father, Dr. Gill, master of St. Paul's school), who was the tutor of Milton, and his dear friend afterwards, and perhaps from whose impressions in early life Milton derived his vehement hatred of Charles, was committed by the Star-chamber, heavily fined, and sentenced to lose his ears,[248] on three charges, one of which arose from drinking a health to Felton. At Trinity College Gill said that the king was fitter to stand in a Cheapside shop, with an ap.r.o.n before him, and say, _What lack ye?_ than to govern a kingdom; that the duke was gone down to h.e.l.l to see king James; and drinking a health to Felton, added he was sorry Felton had deprived him of the honour of doing that brave act.[249] In the taste of that day, they contrived a political anagram of his name, to express the immovable self-devotion he showed after the a.s.sa.s.sination, never attempting to escape; and John Felton, for the nonce, was made to read,

_Noh! flie not!_

But while Felton's name was echoing through the kingdom, our new Brutus was at this moment exhibiting a piteous spectacle of remorse; so different often is the real person himself from the ideal personage of the public. The a.s.sa.s.sination, with him, was a sort of theoretical one, depending, as we shall show, on four propositions; so that when the king's attorney, as the attorney-general was then called, had furnished the unhappy criminal with an unexpected argument, which appeared to him to have overturned his, he declared that he had been in a mistake; and lamenting that he had not been aware of it before, from that instant his conscientious spirit sunk into despair. In the open court he stretched out his arm, offering it as the offending instrument to be first cut off; he requested the king's leave to wear sackcloth about his loins, to sprinkle ashes on his head, to carry a halter about his neck, in testimony of repentance; and that he might sink to the lowest point of contrition, he insisted on asking pardon not only of the d.u.c.h.ess, the duke's mother, but even of the duke's scullion-boy; and a man naturally brave was seen always shedding tears, so that no one could have imagined that Felton had been "a stout soldier." These particulars were given by one of the divines who attended him, to the writer of the MS.

letter.[250]

The character of Felton must not, however, be conceived from this agonising scene of contrition. Of melancholy and retired habits, and one of those thousand officers who had incurred disappointments, both in promotion and in arrears of pay, from the careless duke, he felt, perhaps, although he denied it, a degree of personal animosity towards him. A solitary man who conceives himself injured broods over his revenge. Felton once cut off a piece of his own finger, inclosing it in a challenge, to convince the person whom he addressed that he valued not endangering his whole body, provided it afforded him an opportunity of vengeance.[251] Yet with all this, such was his love of truth and rigid honour, that Felton obtained the nickname of "honest Jack," one which, after the a.s.sa.s.sination, became extremely popular through the nation.

The religious enthusiasm of the times had also deeply possessed his mind, and that enthusiasm, as is well known, was of a nature that might easily occasion its votary to be mistaken for a republican.

Clarendon mentions that in his hat he had sewed a paper, in which were written a few lines of that remonstrance of the Commons, which appeared to him to sanction the act. I have seen a letter from Sir D. Carleton to the queen, detailing the particulars; his lordship was one of those who saved Felton from the swords of the military around him, who in their vexation for the loss of their general the duke, which they considered to be the end of the war, and their ruin, would have avenged themselves. But though Felton, in conversation with Sir D. Carleton, confessed that by reading the remonstrance of the parliament it came into his head, that in committing the act of killing the duke he should do his country a great good service; yet the paper sewed in his hat, thinking he might have fallen a victim in the attempt, was different from that described by Clarendon, and is thus preserved in this letter to the queen by Sir D. Carleton. "If I be slain, let no man condemn me, but rather condemn himself. Our hearts are hardened, and become senseless, or else he had not gone so long unpunished.[252] He is unworthy the name of a gentleman or soldier, in my opinion, that is afraid to sacrifice his life for the honour of G.o.d, his king, and country. JOHN FELTON".[253]

Felton's mind had however previously pa.s.sed through a more evangelical process: four theological propositions struck the knife into the heart of the minister. The conscientious a.s.sa.s.sin, however, accompanied the fatal blow with a prayer to Heaven, to have mercy on the soul of the victim; and never was a man murdered with more gospel than the duke. The following curious doc.u.ment I have discovered in the MS. letter.

Propositions found in Felton's trunk, at the time he slew the duke.

"1. There is no alliance nearer to any one than his country.

"Except his G.o.d and his own soul, said the divines.

"2. The safety of the people is the chiefest law.

"Next to the law of G.o.d, said these divines.

"3. No law is more sacred than the safety and welfare of the commonwealth.

"Only G.o.d's law is more sacred, said the divines.

"4. G.o.d himself hath enacted this law, that all things that are for the good profit and benefit of the commonwealth should be lawful.

"The divines said, We must not do evil that good may come thereon."

The gradual rise in these extraordinary propositions, with the last sweeping one, which includes everything lawless as lawful for the common weal, was at least but feebly parried by the temperate divines, who, while they were so reasonably referring everything to G.o.d, wanted the vulgar curiosity to inquire, or the philosophical discernment to discover, that Felton's imagination was driving everything at the duke.

Could they imagine that these were but subtle cobwebs, spun by a closet speculation on human affairs? In those troubled times did they not give a thought to the real object of these inquiries? or did they not care what befel a minion of the state?

There is one bright pa.s.sage in the history of this unhappy man, who, when broken down in spirits, firmly a.s.serted the rights of a Briton; and even the name of John Felton may fill a date in the annals of our const.i.tutional freedom.

Felton was menaced with torture. Rushworth has noticed the fact, and given some imperfect notes of his speech, when threatened to be racked; but the following is not only more ample, but more important in its essential particulars. When Lord Dorset told him (says the MS. letter) "Mr. Felton, it is the king's pleasure that you should be put to the torture, to make you confess your accomplices, and therefore prepare yourself for the rack:"--Felton answered, "My lord, I do not believe that it is the king's pleasure, for he is a just and a gracious prince, and will not have his subjects _tortured against law_. I do affirm upon my salvation that my purpose was not known to any man living; but if it be his majesty's pleasure, I am ready to suffer whatever his majesty will have inflicted upon me. Yet this I must tell you, by the way, that if I be put upon the rack, I will accuse you, my lord of Dorset, and none but yourself."[254] This firm and sensible speech silenced them. A council was held; the judges were consulted; and on this occasion they came to a very unexpected decision, that "Felton ought not to be tortured by the rack, for no such punishment is known or allowed by our law." Thus the judges condemned what the government had constantly practised. Blackstone yields a fraternal eulogium to the honour of the judges on this occasion; but Hume more philosophically discovers the cause of this sudden tenderness. "So much more exact reasoners, with regard to law, had they become from _the jealous scruples of the House of Commons_." An argument which may be strengthened from cases which are unknown to the writers of our history. Not two years before the present one, a Captain Brodeman, one who had distinguished himself among the "bold speakers" concerning the king and the duke, had been sent to the Tower, and was reported to have expired on the rack; the death seems doubtful, but the fact of his having been racked is repeated in the MS.

letters of the times. The rack has been more frequently used as a state engine than has reached the knowledge of our historians: secret have been the deadly embraces of the Duke of Exeter's daughter.[255] It was only by an original journal of the transactions in the Tower that Burnet discovered the racking of Anne Askew, a narrative of horror! James the First incidentally mentions in his account of the powder-plot that this rack was _shown_ to Guy Fawkes during his examination; and yet under this prince, mild as his temper was, it had been used in a terrific manner.[256] Elizabeth but too frequently employed this engine of arbitrary power; once she had all the servants of the Duke of Norfolk tortured. I have seen in a MS. of the times heads of charges made against some members of the House of Commons in Elizabeth's reign, among which is one for having written against torturing! Yet c.o.ke, the most eminent of our lawyers, extols the mercy of Elizabeth in the trials of Ess.e.x and Southampton, because she had not used torture against their accomplices or witnesses. Was it for the head of law itself, as c.o.ke was, to extol the _mercy_ of the sovereign for not violating the laws, for not punishing the subject by an illegal act? The truth is, lawyers are rarely philosophers; the history of the heart, read only in statutes and law cases, presents the worst side of human nature: they are apt to consider men as wild beasts; and they have never spoken with any great abhorrence of what they so erroneously considered a means of obtaining confession. Long after these times, Sir George Mackenzie, a great lawyer in the reign of James the Second, used torture in Scotland. We have seen how the manly spirit of Felton, and the scruples of the Commons, wrenched the hidden law from judges who had hitherto been too silent; and produced that unexpected avowal, which condemned all their former practices. But it was reserved for better times, when philosophy combining with law, enabled the genius of Blackstone to quote with admiration the exquisite ridicule of torture by Beccaria.

On a rumour that Felton was condemned to suffer torture, an effusion of poetry, the ardent breathings of a pure and youthful spirit, was addressed to the supposed political martyr, by Zouch Townley,[257] of the ancient family of the Townleys in Lancashire, to whose last descendant the nation owes the first public collection of ancient art.[258]

The poem I transcribe from a MS. copy of the time; it appears only to have circulated in that secret form, for the writer being summoned to the Star-chamber, and not willing to have any such poem addressed to himself, escaped to the Hague.

TO HIS CONFINED FRIEND, MR. JO. FELTON.

Enjoy thy bondage, make thy prison know Thou hast a liberty, thou canst not owe To those base punishments; keep't entire, since Nothing but guilt shackles the conscience.

I dare not tempt thy valiant blood to whey, Enfeebling it to pity; nor dare pray Thy act may mercy finde, least thy great story Lose somewhat of its miracle and glory.

I wish thy merit, laboured cruelty; Stout vengeance best befits thy memory.

For I would have posterity to hear, He that can bravely do, can bravely bear.

Tortures may seem great in a coward's eye; It's no great thing to suffer, less to die.

Should all the clouds fall out, and in that strife, Lightning and thunder send to take my life, I would applaud the wisdom of my fate, Which knew to value me at such a rate, As at my fall to trouble all the sky, Emptying upon me Jove's full armoury.

Serve in your sharpest mischiefs; use your rack, Enlarge each joint, and make each sinew crack; Thy soul before was straitened; thank thy doom, To show her virtue she hath larger room.

Yet sure if every artery were broke, Thou wouldst find strength for such another stroke.

And now I leave thee unto Death and Fame, Which lives to shake Ambition with thy name; And if it were not sin, the court by it Should hourly swear before the favourite.

Farewell! for thy brave sake we shall not send Henceforth commanders, enemies to defend; Nor will it ever our just monarch please, To keep an admiral to lose our seas.

Farewell! undaunted stand, and joy to be Of public service the epitome.

Let the duke's name solace and crown thy thrall; All we by him did suffer, thou for all!

And I dare boldly write, as thou dar'st die, Stout Felton, England's ransom, here doth lie![259]

This is to be a great poet. Felton, who was celebrated in such elevated strains, was, at that moment, not the patriot but the penitent. In political history it frequently occurs that the man who accidentally has effectuated the purpose of a party, is immediately invested by them with all their favourite virtues; but in reality having acted from motives originally insignificant and obscure, his character may be quite the reverse they have made him; and such was that of our "honest Jack." Had Townley had a more intimate acquaintance with his Brutus, we might have lost a n.o.ble poem on a n.o.ble subject.

JOHNSON'S HINTS FOR THE LIFE OF POPE.

I shall preserve a literary curiosity, which perhaps is the only one of its kind. It is an original memorandum of Dr. Johnson's, of hints for the Life of Pope, written down, as they were suggested to his mind, in the course of his researches. The lines in Italics Johnson had scratched with red ink, probably after having made use of them. These notes should be compared with the Life itself. The youthful student will find some use, and the curious be gratified, in discovering the gradual labours of research and observation, and that art of seizing on those general conceptions which afterwards are developed by meditation and ill.u.s.trated by genius. I once thought of accompanying these _hints_ by the amplified and finished pa.s.sages derived from them; but this is an amus.e.m.e.nt which the reader can contrive for himself. I have extracted the most material notes.

This fragment is a companion-piece to the engraved fac-simile of a page of Pope's Homer, in this volume.

That fac-simile, a minutely perfect copy of the ma.n.u.script, was not given to show the autograph of Pope,--a practice which has since so generally prevailed,--but to exhibit to the eye of the student the fervour and the diligence required in every work of genius. This could only be done by showing the state of the ma.n.u.script itself, with all its erasures, and even its half-formed lines; nor could this effect be produced by giving only some of the corrections, which Johnson had already, in printed characters. My notion has been approved of, because it was comprehended by writers of genius: yet this fac-simile has been considered as nothing more than an autograph by those literary blockheads, who, without taste and imagination, intruding into the province of literature, find themselves as awkward as a once popular divine, in his "Christian Life," a.s.sures us certain sinners would in paradise,--like "pigs in a drawing-room."

POPE.

Nothing occasional. No haste. No rivals. No compulsion.

Practised only one form of verse. Facility from use. Emulated former pieces. Cooper's-hill. Dryden's ode. Affected to disdain flattery. _Not happy in his selection of patrons_. _Cobham, Bolingbroke_.[260] _Cibber's abuse will be better to him than a dose of hartshorn_. Poems long delayed. Satire and praise late, alluding to something past. He had always some poetical plan in his head.[261] Echo to the sense. Would not constrain himself too much. Felicities of language. Watts.[262] Luxury of language. _Motives to study; want of health, want of money; helps to study; some small patrimony_. _Prudent and frugal_; pint of wine.

LETTERS.

Amiable disposition--but he gives his own character.

_Elaborate. Think what to say--say what one thinks. Letter on sickness to Steele_. _On Solitude. Ostentatious benevolence.

Professions of sincerity_. _Neglect of fame. Indifference about everything_. _Sometimes gay and airy, sometimes sober and grave_. _Too proud of living among the great_. Probably forward to make acquaintance. _No literary man ever talked so much of his fortune. Grotto. Importance. Post-office, letters open_.

_Cant of despising the world_. _Affectation of despising poetry_. _His easiness about the critics._. _Something of foppery_. _His letters to the ladies--pretty_. _Abuse of Scripture--not all early_. Thoughts in his letters that are elsewhere.

ESSAY ON MAN.

_Ramsay missed the fall of man_. _Others the immortality of the soul. Address to our Saviour_. _Excluded by Berkeley_.

_Bolingbroke's notions not understood_. Scale of Being _turn it in prose_. Part and not the whole always said. _Conversation with Bol_. R. 220.[263] _Bol. meant ill. Pope well_. _Crousaz.