ver, considered in his own day as a being almost
beyond humanity. Mrs. Macaulay has called him a "lunatic," because the
duke had not been assassinated 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 assassination) 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 god-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Duke of Buckingham in the unpublished Life of Sir Symonds D'Ewes.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 assassin'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 assassination 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 passage of Felton to London, after the
assassination, 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 passed her, wit