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the blade with one hand, for the other was difabled by a wound which he received in the fervice. With this knife he fet out for Portfmouth, travelling fometimes on horseback, and fometimes on foot, for he had not money fufficient to enable him to perform the journey with more conveniency and expidition. He arrived on Friday the 22d of August 1628, and went not out of his room that evening, which he fpent in preparation for the horrid bufinefs he had undertaken. He thought it very probable, that he might be inftantly flain on the fpot, before he could affign any reafon for what he had done; he therefore wrote on two feparate pieces of paper, each of which he tubfcribed with his name, as follows:

Let no man commend me for doing it, but rather difcommend themselves; for if God had not taken away their barts for their finns, he had not gone fo long unpunifbed. JOHN FELTON.

That man in my opinion is cowardlie and bafe, and deferveth neither the name of a gentleman or fouldier, that is unwilling to facrifice his life for the bonour of God and the good of his king and countrie. JOHN FELTON.

Thele papers he faftened to the infide of the crown of his hat, and about nine o'clock on the morrow morning, Saturday the 23d, he preffed without fufpicion among many fuitors and dependants, who crowded the duke's levee, into a parlour where he was at breakfast. This 'parlour was divided from the hall by a kind of lobby or entry, at the end of which, next the hall, was a curtain that was raised up when any person went out or in.

The duke was furrounded by perfons of quality and officers of the fleet and army, among whom were M. de Soubize, brother to the duke of Rhoan, and other gentlemen of

France. He had juft received letters in which he was advertised that Rochel had relieved itself, and was in hafte to go and acquaint the king with the good news, the court being then at Southwick, the house of Sir Daniel Norton, five miles diftant from Portfmouth

Felton, when he perceived that the duke was about to rife from table, withdrew in the lobby, and the duke foon after entered it with Sir Thomas Fryar, a colonel in the army, to whom he was fpeaking. Felton fuffered them to pafs him, and the duke, juft as he came to the curtain, ftooping to take leave of Sir Thomas Fryar, Felton inftantly feized the opportunity, drew his knife, and reaching over the duke's fhoulder, as if to raise the curtain, he thruft the blade into his breast under the left pap, with fuch force that it reached his heart. As foon as he had given the wound he quitted the knife, which he left in the duke's body, and threw his hat on the ground. The duke, at the inftant of his feeling the blow, clapped his hand on the hilt of his fword, and cried out, as fome fay, with an oath"the villain has killed me.

He then drew the knife from the wound himfelf, and staggering fome paces forward, funk down under the hall table. Surrounded as he was by fuitors and fervants no man faw the blow, but all were inftantly alarmed by the incidents that followed it. His dutchefs and the countess of Anglefey, the wife of his younger brother to Chriftopher Villiers, E. of Anglesey, being in an upper chamber, were affirighted at the noife in the hall, and ran to a gallery that looked into it, where seeing the duke on the ground covered with blood that gushed from his breaft, nofe, and mouth, they increased the general confufion by their cries and lamentations,. He was placed yet alive by his fervants on the hall table, where after struggling with

deat

death about ten minutes, he exPired without fpeaking one word after his firft exclamation. Such was the general confternation and horror conceived at the fact, that within a very few minutes after the body was placed on the table in the hall, there was not a living creature about it, or in any of the adjacent rooms, any more (fays Sir Henry Wotton) than if it had lain in the fands of Ethiopia. A crowd, however, foon gathered about the door, and as no man had feen the blow or him that gave it, every man made his own conjecture, and declared it as a thing unknown. The general opinion was that the fact had been committed by the French; for the French gentlemen who had been about the duke, being in great trouble and perplexity left the news he had received fhould prevent or delay his voyage, had infifted with all the vehement eagerness peculiar to the language of that people, that the news could not poffibly be true. Thofe therefore who did not underftand French fuppofed they had been angry, and had ufed the duke rudely; on which they feized M. Soubize and fome others, who were in great danger of being flain on the pot, that but Felton, who had gone through the hall into the kitchen, and from thence to the area before the door, where he was walking with great compofure, hearing the fcuffle, tan in among the crowd and cried out, "I am he that hath done the deed, let no man fuffer that is innocent." The moment he had made this declaration those who were moft furious ran at him with their fwords drawn to kill him, but others who were at least equally concerned in the lofs, and equally touched with a fenfe of it, defended him that he might be referved for a more judical examination, and fuffer with greater folemnity of juftice. Felton, however, opened his breaft to the words of the most outrageous, not

only with calmnefs but chearfulness, being willing rather to fall a facrafice to their fudden anger, than be referved to that punishment which he knew would be inflicted upon him.

It was foon known who he was, and being taken into a private room by fome perfons of the best condition, they thought fit fo far to diffemble as to mention the duke's wound as dangerous only and not mortal. Upon which Felton fmiled and faid, he knew well enough that he had given a blow which had determined all their hopes. Being asked by whofe inftigation he committed fo horrid a murther? he anfwered with great dignity, "They might at once give up that enquiry, for that no man living had credit or power enough with him to have engaged him in fuch an action; that it proceeded only from himfelf; that his purpofe had been formed by the impulse of his own confcience, and was known, only to God and himself. His motives, he faid, would appear if his hat were found, in which he had fixed them in writing, believing it probable that he might perish in the attempt." The hat was indeed by this time produced, having been taken up near the lobby where Felton had dropped it. He bore the reproaches of those who spoke to him with the temper of a man who thought he had done well; but after he had been fome time in prifon, where he was treated without rigour, he had ftrong convictions that he had done amifs, and behaved (fays Lord Clarendon) with great modefty and wonderful repentance, defiring to be forgiven by the king, the dutchefs and all the duke's fervants, whom he acknowledged to have injured, and earneftly befought the judges that he might have the hand ftruck off with which he had given the blow before he fhould be put to death. Yet he declared to the laft, that he had no private enmity against the

duke

duke, that confidering he was branded as a capital enemy of the church and ftate, he had ftrong inward workings and refolutions to facrifice himself for the fafeguard of both; yet, cofidering alfo the nature of the fact, and fearing he might be under a temptation of the devil, he had conflicted with it near two months, and fought deliverance from it of God by fafting and prayer, but the impulfe ftill growing ftronger, he took it to proceed from God, himself, redoubled his courage, and prayed fervently for divine afliftance. Upon this declaration a short time before his death, his mother and fifters who had been imprisoned upon fufpicion, were fet at liberty.

Felton, after he was executed, was hanged in chains, and the king would fain have had his hand ftruck off before his execution, but the judges faid it could not lawfully be done. Much pains were likewife taken to make it believed that Felton was principally inftigated by a defire to revenge a private injury. It was faid that the duke had twice refufed him a commiflion to which he had a foldier's right, at the inftigation of Sir Henry Horngate, an infamous favourite, whom Felton had detected in fome immoral practices, and who in revenge had found means to ftab Felton when he was in bed, fo dangerously that it was thought he cord not recover. It was alfo faid that Felton was naturally of a revengeful fpirit, for that having once received an injury from a gentleman, he cut off a piece of his little finger, and fent it with a challenge to the gentleman, thereby tó fhew (fays Rufhworth) that he valued not expofing his whole body to hazard, fo he might have an opportunity to be revenged. But whether thefe accounts are true or falfe, Felton certainly deferved credit, when with all the tokens of repentance he declared his motive

was the public good, at the fame time that he accufed himself as a murderer, and requested that he might lofe his hand.

Upon the whole, the death of this malefactor may be of lafting ufe to mankind if he be remembered as a ftriking example, that it is never safe to credit any impulfe as the work of God, which is contrary to the known laws established by his revealed will.

The king was too near Portsmouth to be long ignorant of his favourite's death; but his behaviour when he first heard it fhewed great prefence of mind and reverence for the divine majetty. He was attending the morning fervice when Sir John Hippelley came into the room with a troubled countenance, and without any paufe, with respect to the exercite they were performing, went directly to the king, and whispered what had happened. His majesty continued unmoved, and without the leaft change of countenance, till prayers were ended, when he went directly to his chamber, and throwing himfelf on his bed, lamented his lofs with great conflict and many tears.

The duke about three years and two months before his death, had married the lady Catherine Manners heiress gentral to the noble houfe of Rutland, by whom he had three fons and a daughter. The daughter Lady Murray, was the first born; the eldest fon died an infant; the 3d, Francis, was posthumous; and the fecond inherited his title and eftate. As to his character, it may in general be gathered from this account of his life. Ld. Clarendon fays, he was of a noble nature and generous difpofition, perfectly a matter of all that can be learned in a court. He had a quick conception, and the habit of fpeaking very gracefully and pertinently; he was of undaunted courage, a zealous friend, and in general an implacable, but always an open ene

my.

my. He was curteous and affable in the highest degree, eafy of accefs, and fo defirous to oblige thofe who addreffed him, that he did not enough confider the value of the obligation, or the merit of the perfon obliged; and this was a confiderable cause of his misfortunes.

There were at that time feveral ftories of prophecies and predictions concerning his untimely and violent death, among others the following is related by Lord Clarendon, as being on a better foundation of credit than fuch ftories ufually are.

"There was an officer in the

king's wardrobe in Windfor caftle, of a good reputation for honefty and difcretion and then about the age of fifty years or more: this man had in his youth been bred in a school in the parish where Sir George Vil liers the father of the duke lived, and had been much cherished and obliged, in that feafon of his age, by the faid Sir George, whom afterwards he never faw. About fix months before the miferable end of the duke of Buckingham, about midnight, this man being in bed at Windfor where his office was, and in very good health, there appeared to him on the fide of his bed, a man of a very venerable aspect, who drew the curtains of his bed and fixing his eyes upon him, asked him if he knew him? The poor man half dead with fear and apprehenfion afked the fecond time whether he remembered him? and having in that time called to his memory the Prefence of Sir George Villiers, and the very cloaths he used to wear, in which he then feemed to be habited, he answered him, that he thought him to be that perfon. He replied, that he was in the right; that he was the fame, and that he expected a fervice from him, which was, that he should go from him to his fon the duke of Buckingham. and tell him, if he did not do fomewhat

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to ingratiate himself to the people, or at leaft to abate the extreme malice they had against him, he would be fuffered to live but a fhort time' After this discourse he difappeared, and the poor man if he had been at all waking, fept very well till morning, when he believed all this to be a dream, and confidered it no otherwife.

The next night, or shortly after, the fame perfon appeared to him again in the fame place, and about the fame time of the night, with an afpect a little more fevere than before, and afked him, whether he had done as he required him? and perceiving he had not, gave him very fevere reprehenfions; told him, He

expected more compliance from him; and that if he did not perform his commands, he fhould cajoy no peace of mind, but thould be always purfued by him: upon which he promised to obey him. But the next morning waking out of a good fleep, tho' he was exceedingly perplexed with the lively reprefentation of all particulars to his memory, he was willing fill to perfwade himself that he had only dreamed; and confidered that he was a perfon at fuch a distance from the duke, that he knew not how to find admiflion to his prefence, much lefs had any hope to be believed in what he fhould fay. So with great trouble and unquietnefs, he ipent fome time in thinking what he fhould do, and in the end refolved to do nothing in the matter.

The fame perfon appeared to him the third time, with a terrible countenance, and bitterly reproaching him for not performing what he had promifed to do. The poor man had by this time recovered the coularge to tell him, That in truth he had deferred the execution of his commands, upon confidering 'how difficult a thing it would be for him to get any accefs to the duke, having acquaintance with

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