THE ASSASSINATION OF BUCKINGHAM.

THROUGH the kindness of Father Dominic, of the Convent, Carisbrooke, I am enabled to furnish the following interesting story of the assassination of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. It is an extract from the dispatches of a certain Amerigo Salvetti, written during the years 16231628 in the Tuscan dialect, and in cypher, which has been translated by Mr. Heath Wilson, an Englishman, resident in Florence. The translation has lately been published as a special appendix to the eleventh report of the Historical Manuscripts Commission. The dispatches deal with occurrences such as the death of James I, the accession of Charles I, the impeachment of the Earl of Bristol, who was connected with the Spanish Marriage Treaty, the assassination of the Duke of Buckingham, the conflicts of Charles I with his Parliament, and all the leading political, social, and general events of those troublous times."

We have learnt from Professor Ranke, in his History of the Popes, the vast importance of the Relationi' of the Venetian Ambassadors, and of other documents of equal veracity, written from an unbiassed standpoint, in clearing up the history of those times. The chronicler, Salvetti, was appointed ambassador at the Court of Whitehall in 1616, the year in which Shakespeare died, by Cosmo de Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany, the second who bore that name. Salvetti was an assumed name, his rightful patronymic being Allesandro Antelmunelli. He came of a noble house of the republic of Lucca. The whole family fell into ill-repute with that republic, for after his father and his three brothers had been first tortured and then executed he himself was summoned from Antwerp to undergo trial. Salvetti disobeyed the order; a price was put upon his head, and the myrmidons of the little republic were employed to track him down and kill him. The fugitive eluded their pursuit and found a home in

England, where he died in 1657, aged eighty-five. He was buried in the chancel of St. Bartholomew's Church, London. Salvetti's record supplies us with the following account of the death of Buckingham:

'Immediately after my arrival at this place (Salvetti writes on September 5, 1628) the news reached me of the tragical end of the Duke of Buckingham at Portsmouth. The author of it is in the position of a gentleman, and it is said that the cause of his act was that the duke refused to give him the company of infantry which he maintained was his by right when his captain died. He avenged himself by a stab with a knife which killed the duke before he had time to say a word. The news of this fatal blow has spread rapidly over the whole kingdom; and, if I may express myself frankly, the appearances of satisfaction are almost universal. His Majesty more than anyone is touched to the quick by this assassination; he feels it so much that they say that he is both profoundly afflicted and incensed. The duke's relatives and dependents are those who will be most affected by this loss. As to others, they rejoice in the prospect of dividing the spoils and the offices which he held in the Government. All the principal members of the Privy Council went immediately to His Majesty to offer their services; and, as all the active management of the Government was in the hands of the duke, it will require some time to make the arrangements which may be rendered necessary by a possible change of policy in home and foreign affairs. It is only too evident that the people are gratified by the death of the duke, and they seem to think that they have gained by the act of his slayer that deliverance which Parliament never could attain. The murderer is named Felton. He is a prisoner, and will be strictly examined to discover if he has accomplices, after which in conformity with the laws he must die. The blow was given so suddenly that it was not actually seen by anyone. The duke was heard to exclaim, "Vile animal, you have killed me," and with his own hand he drew the knife from the wound; then stepping back as if to draw his sword, he fell to the ground and blood flowed from his mouth and nostrils. In seven or eight minutes he expired without uttering a word. On the fall

of the duke many of those present drew their swords and turned towards Monsieur de Soubise, who was in the anteroom, and who ran a special risk of being killed from the circumstance that several took it into their heads that he had struck the blow, inasmuch as about half an hour previously some warm words had passed between him and the duke in public. The actual murderer, seeing that the crowd threw itself upon Soubise, called out, "The duke is dead, and it was I killed him." One of those standing by with his sword drawn made a lunge at him. This Felton parried, and, throwing down his sword said, "Do what you like with me." He was made prisoner, and being questioned he said that he had struck the blow, and that he had intended to do so for some days. Being asked if he was sorry for what he had done, he said "No," and that if it were still to do he would do it, having no fear except the displeasure of God.' September 3, 1887.

SIR JOHN OGLANDER AND A DEPUTATION FROM THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

AUGUST 19, 1628.

THE description of Geoffrey Peveril, the Derbyshire baronet, in that creation of Sir Walter Scott's genius, Peveril of the Peak, might stand for the stout old cavalier of Nunwell, Sir John Oglander. They were both of them upright men with strong prejudices, loyal to their sovereign, and as all true-hearted English gentlemen should be, haters of oppression and cruelty, whether in peer or peasant, and of meanness, duplicity, and unhandsome dealing, be these base qualities found in the sycophants and courtiers of kings, or in the demagogues who cajole and flatter the populace. This feature in Oglander's character comes out in his dislike of Buckingham, the worthless favourite of James I and his son

Charles I. The following interesting memorandum has lately been extracted from the Nunwell documents by Major Boulcott, of Ryde, who has kindly forwarded it to

me:

'August ye 14th, 1628. Owre Iland beinge miserably opressed with ye Scottish regiment, all ye gentlemen resolved to petition his Matie. (he being then att Southwicke). They commaunded me to draw ye petition, and olso they did me ye honor to deliver itt to his Matie. Wee went first to my Lord Conway, not doubtynge of his best furtherance, considering wee came both in and for ye generalitie, and weare resolved to delivor ower petition. He accordingly used us respectfullye, browght us to ye Kinge, of whom we had many gratious wordes, and he gave us all his hand to kiss, and told us when he had tawked with ye Duke, without whom nothynge coold be effected, we should have what money could be spared, and injoined us to thanke ye whole Iland in his name both for their longe patience and their to well usuage of ye Scottes, with many gratious words. Wee still attended till ye Duke's comynge, but in ye interim ye Lord Conway invited us all to dinner with him to Mr. Ployden's, where he laye. At the Duke's comynge, whytch wase about 5 at nyght, I informed him what we had done, with his Matie's. ansor, shewynge him ower great necessities and imploring his grace's favour; he also gave us many good wordes and fayre promises, but what ye ende will be God knoweth. Ye gentlemen's names that went to Southwicke:-Sir William Leslie, Sir William Mewse, Sir Edward Dennis, Sir Bevis Thelwall, Sir John Oglander, Mr. Barnabie Leigh, Mr. Dillington, Mr. Bowreman.'

The circumstances which led to this deputation being sent from the Isle of Wight are to be found in the history of the period. In 1627 under Cardinal Richelieu, the minister of the French King, Louis XIII, son of Henry of Navarre, and brother of Henrietta Maria, the Queen of Charles I, the third and last Huguenot war broke out. It was among the closing acts of the great drama which has had so much influence on the fortunes of France. Cardinal Richelieu, a better soldier than priest, had set his heart on taking La Rochelle, the last stronghold of the French Protestants, which they had held ever since 1557. La Rochelle, on the west

coast of France, the chief city of the department of the Charente Inferieure, was situated in a district of the ancient Poitou, which, like a petty Holland, spread itself out in marshes and canals. This amphibious city, called by the English the white city,' from the reflection of the light on its rocks and downs, had thoughts of becoming a second Amsterdam, of which Coligny would have been the William of Orange. The Protestants of Rochelle in their agony sought help from England. Public feeling was enlisted in their cause. Buckingham, who had been piqued by his treatment at the Court of France in consequence of his own ill behaviour, determined at all hazards to force a war with France upon his master. Among the motives that drove Charles and his favourite into this rash war was the hope that they might thereby recover some of the short popularity they had enjoyed during the last Parliament of King James. Lord Bolingbroke, followed by Mr. Matthew Arnold, has argued that Charles by making war with France showed himself more sagacious with regard to foreign policy than Cromwell. The facts of history refute this notion. Charles had at one time lent the French King English ships to be used against the Protestants of Rochelle, and when he afterwards quarrelled with France, Clarendon, a good authority for what was thought at the time, did not believe that policy of any kind, except the desire for passing popularity, predominated over the passions and the vanity of the favourite, in whose hands Charles was a puppet. The self-confident, vainglorious Buckingham had no knowledge or experience of the art of war; he had never seen a gun fired except on a parade or a salute, and his own presumption led him to despise the guidance of others and to put to sea without any concert with those with whom he was to act. The result was that in November the Duke returned to England with a disgraced. flag and murmuring fleet.

In the following year, 1628, Charles, much against his own feelings, summoned a Parliament to obtain the means of renewing with better success the war abroad. Richelieu, meanwhile, after the departure of the French King, Louis XIII, from the scene of war, superintended the construction of the celebrated dyke, which was compared to the works raised