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OF BUCKINGHAM.

AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. For the Olio.

MUCH has been written upon this subject, but most of the accounts are meagre and unconnected. The following particulars collected from various sources, will, it is hoped, be read with interest. Buckingham was the profligate companion of the mean and dastardly James the First; a monarch with so little of the dignity of a king, that his very reign is a foul blot upon the page of our history. Without dwelling on the rise of the Duke, or the infamous course of his life during the reign of James, we come down to the year 1628, at which time Charles the First swayed the English sceptre.

Buckingham, having the countenance and protection of this monarch, conducted himself with great insolence towards the ancient nobility, over whose heads he had been raised by his former VOL. VI.

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this pernicious favourite; but the infatuated Charles still clung to his minion. The murder of a favourite of the Duke, one Dr. Lamb, a pretended conjuror, by the enraged mob, might have operated as a salutary warning to some monarchs; but Charles, incensed against the City of London, imprudently imposed a heavy fine of six thousand pounds upon the citizens. During the perpetration of the outrage upon the doctor, voices in the crowd were heard to say that his master should, ere long, be handled worse, and that they would mince his flesh. A few days after, a paper was pasted by some unknown hand upon a post in Coleman-street, bearing these words:

« Who rules the kingdom?-The King. Who rules the King ?-The Duke. Who rules the Duke?-The Devil! "Let the Duke look to it, for they intend shortly to use him worse than they did the Doctor; and if things be not

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shortly reformed, they will work a reformation themselves!"

Affairs were in this posture when the Duke went to Portsmouth; and while engaged in preparations for the expedition to Rochelle, fell beneath the knife of Felton, who had been a lieutenant in a company of foot under Sir John Ramsey. Various conflicting accounts are given, but the following bears the stamp of truth. It is taken from a folio volume, entitled, "Annals of the reigns of James I. and Charles I.," printed in the year 1681.

"And now again was a naval royal equipped for the relief of Rochel, under the Duke of Buckingham, who being at Portsmouth in order to his embarquation, and to the giving the necessary orders, he was on the 23rd of August in his own lodging, fitting himself to wait on the King; he hastily called for breakfast, his servants attended the sewer to bring in the meat, the Duke came down stairs from his upper chamber to eat in a lower parlour; turning in at the foot of the stairs with a narrow entry, and Sir Thomas Friar, one of his colonels, following him to the parlour door, stooping to take his leave, the Duke declining, embraced Friar with these words Honest Tom,' and so turning into the room, one John Felton at that instant, shadowed behind them, stabbed him to the heart with a back blow of a coutel-knife, which stuck in his body till the Duke dragged it out, and so enlarged the orifice that it streamed with the effusion of so much blood and spirit, that instantly he died, not able, it seems, to utter a syllable; and certainly no soul there present, for he fell backward into the parlour, and the assassinate fled."

Some accounts, however, say that the Duke upon receiving the stroke, exclaimed, "The villain has killed me!" and that Felton, in his hurry, lost his hat, and claimed it as his upon seeing it in the hand of a bystander; but the author before quoted says, "Felton having no power to fly far," and it seems he had no such intent,-" uncertain what to do, stepped aside into the kitchen; thither the uproar and search followed; some cried out, Where's the villain?' Felton, mistaking the words for 'Here's the villain,' suddenly started and said, 'I am he;-upon which they seized him, and had some difficulty to preserve him from the fury of the soldiers, who feared that this disaster would cause the delay of the expedition. One Stamford, a follower of the Duke, valiantly made

many passes at him with his rapier after he had been seized and bound.”

The news was soon carried to London, and a courtier was sent to see the slayer, who was, says our author, " a little, timber, meagre, ghastly, frightfulfaced fellow, already clapped into a small centry-house upon the guard, heavily laden with manacled irons, neither able to sit, nor to lie down, but to be crippled against the wall." The courtier, by representing himself as a friend, endeavoured to worm himself into Felton's confidence, but failed in his object.

The event was hailed with joy by all classes; thousands cheered Felton on his way to London, and an old woman, alluding to the greatness of Buckingham and the mean figure of his destroyer, cried out, 'God bless thee, little David!' His health was toasted by the Republicans. Alexander Gill, son of Dr. Gill, of St. Paul's school, was prosecuted by the Star-chamber, upon three charges, heavily, tined, and condemned to lose his ears. One of the charges was, that he had said at Trinity College that the King was fitter for a shop or stallkeeper than to govern a kingdom; and "that the Duke was gone down to h-1 to see King James."

In answer to many questions that were put to him, Felton said, that "he had killed the Duke for the cause of God and his country." To which the questioner remarked, that "there was hope of his life, for the surgeons said so."-"It is impossible," said Felton; "I had the force of forty men assisted by him that guided my hand." He said that passing out at the postern-gate on Tower-hill, he espied the fatal knife with which he had effected his deadly purpose, in a cutler's glass case, and bought it for sixteen pence; it was the point end of a cuff blade, stuck into a cross haft, the whole length, handle and all, measuring scarcely twelve inches; that he followed the train to Portsmouth, and coming by a cross erected in the highway, he sharpened the point upon the stone, "believing it more proper in justice to advantage his designs, than for the idolatrous intent it was erect."

To the eternal disgrace of those who first started the question, it was left to be debated by the judges whether he should be racked. Lord Dorset waited himself upon the prisoner, and stated that it was his majesty's pleasure (what a word!) that he should be put to the torture; but Felton resolutely told him that he had no accomplices. "If I be

put upon the rack," said he, "I will accuse you, my Lord Dorset, and none but yourself." This speech silenced the noble, who retired discomfited. Felton was condemned and hung at Tyburn. He died penitent, it is said, laying the guilt directly upon the Parliament's re

monstrance.

He was a man of moody and melancholy habits, and had met with many disappointments, both as regards promotion and arrears of pay. There is little doubt that he was influenced by personal feelings to assassinate the Duke, who had probably neglected him. Be this as it may, he did his country a signal service by the act for which he suffered. That he was a man who could meet danger and death with a smile, may be argued from the fact that he once cut off a piece of his finger, and inclosed it in a challenge to a person who had offended him. Yet his love of truth and honour procured for him the nickname of "Honest Jack" among his acquaintance. It should be mentioned that the judges came to a determination that the assassin ought not to be put upon the rack, for that no such punishment was recognized by our law. Felton, after his condemnation, offered his hand to be cut off, but the court would not inflict that punishment upon him, although Charles intreated that he might suffer that horrible mutilation previous to his execution.

The Duke's body was brought to London, and lay in state for several days at York House; when it was interred in St. Edward's Chapel, at Westminster. He lived a life of profligacy and vice, and died regretted by none but the reptiles who pandered to his worst passions. The death of Charles by his own subjects rescued his name from the odium which would have attached to it, but his partiality to this pernicious favourite, in defiance of his peoples wishes, together with his vindictive feeling towards Felton, prove that he had little of the amiable or the merciful in his disposition.

THOU ART MINE. For the Olio.

ALPHA.

Thou art mine!-thou art mine!-nor the chilling frown

Of the beartless this can move:
Thou art mine, by the soul's responsive throb,
And the voice of deathless love;

Mine, by the warmest wish of youth;
Mine, by the glow of feeling;

Mine, by the whisper'd vows of truth,
Angels above were sealing;

Mine, by the ramble o'er the vale,

When the moonbeam's light was dancing;

Mine, by the stroll o'er hill and dale,
When the morning sun was glancing;
Mine, by the smile of hopeful hours,
By the tear from fancy flowing-
Thou art mine!-thou art mine!-by every
thought
In the heart of honour glowing!

Thou art mine!-by the days of joy we've known,

When brighter skies were beaming; Oh! the seeds which love has in sunshine sown Will ripen, though rain be streaming. Thou art mine!-by the dreams young hope once breath'd,

When heav'n seem'd down descending; And fancy the blossoms of earth had wreath'd, Mine, by the wayward web she wove, And with them its sweets was blending.

Though that is long since broken, For the wish more like to bind will prove, When they're dead by whom 'twas spoken; Mine, by the pleasures we both have drawn From youth's deep well of pleasure; Thou art mine!-by the past 1-and by-gone joys

Are always a hallow'd treasure. Thou art mine?-by the darker ties of grief, Which are holier bands than they: Thou art mine!-by the tears which rain relief When the kindly sun's away! Mine, by the linking of sorrow's chain,

By the echoed sigh of sadness; Ah! there's more of truth in the tearful eye, Thou art mine:-though fortune has sternly Than in the gay laugh of gladness!

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EVERY body in Cirencester has heard of old W- His riches and his parsimony furnished a theme for every company. I remember hearing a story of this old hunks a short time ago, which may amuse some of the readers of the Olio. He had amassed considerable property, but, although in a condition to fare sumptuously every day, he contented himself with the coarsest food; his favourite plan, however, was to honour one of his tenants with an unexpected visit, and invite himself to dinner: sometimes he would take with him a scanty allowance of meat, and the good people found fuel to cook it, and the necessary adjuncts. A friend once made him a present of a couple of ducks. One of these was dispatched during the

EPIGRAM.

THE BEGGAR, THE COOK, AND THE IDIOT.

week, but the other was reserved the fire, but literally burnt to a cinder till the following Sunday, when W for want of turning. G. L. F. trudged off to visit one of his tenants who lived about a mile from the town. He arrived just as the honest couple were about to proceed to church, and besought them to prepare for dinner the duck which he had brought with him. His request could not be refused; the duck was prepared for the spit, placed before the fire, and left in charge Wof their son, a lad of twelve. said he would accompany them to church, but previously pulled from his pocket a bottle of wine, which he placed on a table, bidding the boy not touch it, for it was poison.

Away they went, and the duck was left dangling before the fire. In a short time it began to hiss and blister, and assume a lovely brown hue, emitting a most delicious odour, most grateful and tempting to the urchin, in whose charge it was left. He sighed and looked and looked again;" then touched it with his thumb and finger, which he afterwards licked with the grimace of a gourmand. The flavour was delicious, he fingered it again and again, and then procured a knife, with which he detached a piece of the breast, and eagerly ate it. Another slice was taken, and repeated. By this time the poor biped cut a most contemptible figure, for although the gaps in the breast had been browned over, they were not filled up. The boy when too late, perceived the horrible mutilation which he had inflicted on his charge, and trembled when he thought on the return of his parents. What was to be done?In the midst of his deliberations he saw his father and mother with old W returning. Despair seized him: he flew to the door-bolted it, and grasp ing the bottle, drew the cork, and swallowed half its contents, resolving to end his days at once, rather than encounter his enraged parents. His situation was at once ludicrous and painful. The strength of the wine and the dread of punishment, had their full effect upon him he rolled on the ground in a frantic manner, never doubting that he had swallowed a deadly poison, and replied to the entreaties of those without by groans of distress. At length the father got in at the window, and with the aid of a horse-whip, brought the urchin to his senses; he then opened the door to his visitor, who saw with dismay the broken bottle on the floor, the boy in one corner, crying piteously, and the unfortunate duck still dangling before

Led by the savoury fumes that steamed around,
An eating shop a needy Beggar found;
Long did his nose with opening valves inhale
When Master Cook, indignant to behold
The rich luxuriance of the spicy gale-
A dinner made, and yet no viands sold,
Exclaimed, “Good Sir, thy reckoning prithee
pay."
To this the sturdy beggar answered, "Nay."
Blows follow words. At length a fool passed
by;

And both agreed that he the cause should try.

The new made Judge then made the Man of
Rags,

Bring forth two half-pence from his leathern
bags.

Betwixt two empty plates the pence he laid—
The shaken pence a jingling murmur made-
When thus the arbiter pronounced aloud
This weighty sentence to the listening crowd,
"On smell alone his meal the Beggar made-
"With sound alone the Cook is amply paid."
Fraser's Mag.

THE POSTHUMOUS LETTERS OF
HUGH DELMORE, ESQ.

LETTER III.

(For the Olio)

[The restoration of Delmore to health and active habits appears to have been very rapid. Meanwhile, his mind was wholly occupied with his India voyage. I omit much that he had written on this subject, as well as the adjustment of his legacy with his guardian's executors. Again he appears to have made abortive attempts to see his cousin, Miss Ashton; and his mind, at the period of his departure from London, was, in consequence, more embittered against his uncle. He forms, through the interest principally of Mr., an engagement with a Captain Green, of the Glyceria, of 700 tons burden, and joins that ship as clerk at Gravesend, previous to her departure for Calcutta. Captain G.'s character is not sketched in the most engaging colours; but, making allowance for Delmore's state of mind, as well as his habits of uncontrolled freedom of thought and speech, the Captain was evidently, though possessed of great personal courage, and the skill and determination so essential to his situation and profession, an insolent, tyrannical, and overbearing despot to those beneath him. J. H.B.]

The captain was not on board; and scarcely had the vessel been underweigh a quarter of an hour, than (it becoming necessary to tack) the chief

mate, a sea ruffian of the old school, seeing me standing stupidly on the quarter deck, saluted me with a broad oath, and bid me pull off "my shore going rigging, and turn to."

Now his jargon was "Ebrew Greek" to me, and I looked, I dare say, more silly than ever, which the fellow noticing, continued, Dis the man mad? there, lay hold of that mizen top-sail brace; a pound from you is as good as a pound from a better man." The portion of this elegant speech I did not comprehend, was explained by a grinning, tarry-faced, and bare-footed urchin, who held out to me a portion of a rope, at which himself, and two or three others of like inviting appearance, were tugging.

Indignant at the unworthy office thus assigned to me, I haughtily replied, "I did not come there to be his servant."

Harris (that was his name) laughed aloud at my unnautical phraseology, but checking himself, and bending on me a savage scowl, he said, "And what d'ye think you did come here for, b- ye?-to sit on your rump, and let the wind blow ye along?-but stay a bit till the skipper comes aboard, he'll bring ye to your bearings, my fine fellow." And irritated that his authority should be disregarded by a raw landsman, he again scowled maliciously upon me, and squirting a huge mass of chocolate saliva from his closed teeth, turned upon his heel.

I did not like this specimen of sea manners, but I comforted myself with the hope that Captain Green would, on his joining the ship, put things on their proper footing; and in a few hours, aided by a brisk and favouring breeze, the Glyceria came to anchor in

the Downs.

I was certainly very green in the ways of the world, or I should never have thought of the ridiculous step I had adopted. After twenty-four years of age, after moving in the sphere of life I had done, to enter on board a free trader in the ambiguous situation of Captain's clerk, where the superior officers were remarkable only for their vulgarity, insolence, and poverty, oh! I must have been blinder than madness itself. In the Downs the Captain joined the ship; but, detained by contrary winds, we laid nearly three days at anchor unable to proceed to sea.There were a considerable number of passengers on board, and at the dinner hour I sat myself down at the cuddy table, as I had done previous to the

Captain's joining the ship. Peculiar courtesy was never a characteristic of this man, and immediately his eyes fell upon me, an angry frown darkened his features. After dinner he called me to him on the poop.

"Young man," said he, "we appear to misunderstand each other-I did not mean that you should mess at my table;" and he dwelt emphatically on the pronouns, pausing as if for my reply. Astonishment and mortified pride sealed my lips, and he proceeded, "You will mess with the steward, he'll take care you shall be comfortableand harkee, Mr. Harris complains to me of your refusing to lend a hand about the ship-we must have no idlers here."

I had now recovered my speech, and indignantly exclaimed, "I certainly refused at his bidding to pull a rope with three or four dirty boys; I did not imagine that was to constitute a part of my duty."

A sneer of savage contempt curled the lip of Captain Green, and he said in his usual cold stern tone, "Well, well, we'll not dispute about that at present-don't let me see you in the cuddy again;" and he pursued his walk across the break of the poop. I waited till his return, and then resumed the subject.

"I shall not herd with your servants, Captain Green," said I, proudly, "I am not accustomed to such society."

"You should have thought of that before you joined the Glyceria, as it is you must submit to necessity, nothing will be required of you that is unreasonable."

"To judge from what I have already seen," said I, completely excited, "I should rather question that-you mean that I shall mess in the steerage during the voyage."

"Most certainly.”

"Then, sir," said I, "I shall not proceed to sea in the ship; I have no occasion, nor will I submit to such a degradation."

He looked on me with surprise, and a peculiar and ominous smile gleamed across his features.

"You will not proceed to sea in the ship," said he slowly, and in a jeering tone, "and what explanation will you make to your friends, for this notable proceeding?"

"That is my business," said I, warmly; "there is a Deal boat now alongside; her crew will, I dare say, put me ashore.”

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