The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 3/The Examiner, Number 32
NUMBER XXXII.
THURSDAY, MARCH 15, 1710-11.
I AM diverted from the general subject of my discourses, to reflect upon an event of a very extraordinary and suprising nature. A great minister, in high confidence with the queen, under whose management the weight of affairs at present is in a great measure supposed to lie; sitting in council, in a royal palace, with a dozen of the chief officers of the state, is stabbed at the very board in the execution of his office, by the hand of a French papist[1], then under examination for high treason; the assassin redoubles his blow to make sure work: and concluding the chancellor[2] was dispatched goes on with the same rage to murder a principal secretary of state[3]: and that whole noble assembly are forced to rise and draw their swords in their own defence, as if a wild beast had been let loose among them.
This fact has some circumstances of aggravation not to be parallelled by any of the like kind we meet with in history. Cæsar's murder being performed in the senate comes nearest to the case: but that was an affair concerted by great numbers of the chief senators, who were likewise the actors in it; and not the work of a vile single ruffian. Harry the third of France was stabbed by an enthusiastick friar, whom he suffered to approach his person, while those who attended him stood at some distance. His successor met the same fate in a coach, where neither he nor his nobles, in such a confinement, were able to defend themselves. In our own country we have, I think, but one instance of this sort, which has made any noise; I mean that of Felton about fourscore years ago; but he took the opportunity to stab the duke of Buckingham, in passing through a dark lobby from one room to another. The blow was neither seen nor heard, and the murderer might have escaped, if his own concern and horrour, as it is usual in such cases, had not betrayed him. Besides, that act of Felton will admit of some extenuation from the motives he is said to have had: but this attempt of Guiscard seems to have outdone them all in every heightening circumstance, except the difference of persons between a king and a great minister; for I give no allowance at all to the difference of success (which, however, is yet uncertain and depending) nor think it the least alleviation to the crime, whatever it may be to the punishment.
I am sensible it is ill arguing from particulars to generals, and that we ought not to charge upon a nation the crimes of a few desperate villains it is so unfortunate to produce; yet at the same time it must be avowed, that the French have, for these last centuries, been somewhat too liberal of their daggers upon the persons of their greatest men; such as the admiral de Coligny, the dukes of Guise father and son, and the two kings I last mentioned. I have sometimes wondered how a people, whose genius seems wholly turned to singing and dancing, and prating, to vanity and impertinence; who lay so much weight upon modes and gestures; whose essentialities are generally so very superficial; who are usually so serious upon trifles, and so trifling upon what is serious, have been capable of committing such solid villainies, more suitable to the gravity of a Spaniard, or the silence and thoughtfulness of an Italian: unless it be, that in a nation naturally so full of themselves, and of so restless imaginations, when any of them happen to be of a morose and gloomy constitution, that huddle of confused thoughts, for want of evaporating, usually terminates in rage or despair. D'Avila observes, that Jacques Clement[4] was a sort of buffoon, whom the rest of the friars used to make sport with; but at last giving his folly a serious turn, it ended in enthusiasm, and qualified him for that desperate act of murdering his king.
But, in the marquis de Guiscard, there seems to have been a complication of ingredients for such an attempt. He had committed several enormities in France, was extremely prodigal and vicious, of a dark melancholy complexion and cloudy countenance, such as in vulgar physiognomy is called an ill look. For the rest, his talents were very mean, having a sort of inferiour cunning, but very small abilities; so that a great man of the late ministry, by whom he was invited over, and with much discretion raised at first step, from a profligate popish priest, to a lieutenant general, and colonel of a regiment of horse, was at last forced to drop him for shame.
Had such an accident happened under that ministry, and to so considerable a member of it, they would have immediately charged it upon the whole body of those they are pleased to call the faction. This would have been styled a high church principle; the clergy would have been accused as promoters and abettors of the fact; committees would have been sent, to promise the criminal his life, provided they might have liberty to direct and dictate his confession; and a black list would have been printed of all those who had been ever seen in the murderer's company. But the present men in power hate and despise all such detestable arts, which they might now turn upon their adversaries with much more plausibility, than ever these did their honourable negotiations with Greg[5].
And here it may be worth observing, how unanimous a concurrence there is between some persons once in great power, and a French papist; both agreeing in the great end of taking away Mr. Harley's life, though differing in their methods; the first, proceeding by subornation, the other, by violence; wherein Guiscard seems to have the advantage, as aiming no farther than his life; while the others designed to destroy at once both that and his reputation. The malice of both against this gentleman seems to have risen from the same cause, his discovering designs against the government. It was Mr. Harley, who detected the treasonable correspondence of Greg, and secured him betimes, when a certain great man, who shall be nameless, had, out of the depth of his politicks, sent him a caution to make his escape, which would certainly have fixed the appearance of guilt upon Mr. Harley: but when that was prevented, they would have enticed the condemned criminal with promise of a pardon, to write and sign an accusation against the secretary: but to use Greg's own expression, his death was nothing near so ignominious, as would have been such a life, that must be saved by prostituting his conscience. The same gentleman now lies stabbed by his other enemy, a popish spy, whose treason he has discovered. God preserve the rest of her majesty's ministers from such protestants, and from such papists!
I shall take occasion to hint at some particularities in this surprising fact, for the sake of those at a distance, or who may not be thoroughly informed. The murderer confessed in Newgate, that his chief design was against Mr. secretary St. John, who happened to change seats with Mr. Harley for more convenience of examining the criminal: and being asked what provoked him to stab the chancellor, he said, that not being able to come at the secretary as he intended, it was some satisfaction to murder the person whom he thought Mr. St. John loved best[6].
And here, if Mr. Harley has still any enemies left, whom his blood spilt in the publick service cannot reconcile, I hope they will at least admire his magnanimity, which is a quality esteemed even in an enemy; and I think there are few greater instances of it to be found in story. After the wound was given, he was observed neither to change his countenance, nor discover any concern or disorder in his speech. He rose up, and walked about the room while he was able, with the greatest tranquillity, during the height of the confusion. When the surgeon came, he took him aside, and desired he would inform him freely whether the wound were mortal, because in that case, he said, he had some affairs to settle relating to his family. The blade of the penknife[7], broken by the violence of the blow against the rib, within a quarter of an inch of the handle, was dropt out (I know not whether from the wound, or his clothes) as the surgeon was going to dress him: he ordered it to be taken up, and wiping it himself, gave it some body to keep, saying, he thought it now properly belonged to him. He showed no sort of resentment, nor spoke one violent word against Guiscard, but appeared all the while the least concerned of any in the company; a state of mind, which, in such an exigency, nothing but innocence can give, and is truly worthy of a Christian philosopher.
If there be really so great a difference in principle, between the high-flying whigs and the friends of France, I cannot but repeat the question, how came they to join in the destruction of the same man? can his death be possibly for the interest of both? or have they both the same quarrel against him, that he is perpetually discovering and preventing the treacherous designs of our enemies? However it be, this great minister may now say with St. Paul, that he has been in perils by his own countrymen, and in perils by strangers.
In the midst of so melancholy a subject, I cannot but congratulate with our own country, that such a savage monster as the marquis de Guiscard is none of her production: a wretch, perhaps more detestable in his own nature, than even this barbarous act has been yet able to represent him to the world. For there are good reasons to believe from several circumstances, that he had intentions of a deeper die than those he happened to execute: I mean such as every good subject must tremble to think on. He has of late been frequently seen going up the back stairs at court, and walking alone in an outer room adjoining to her majesty's bed chamber. He has often and earnestly pressed, for some time, to have access to the queen, even since his correspondence with France. And he has now given such a proof of his disposition, as leaves it easy to guess what was before in his thoughts, and what he was capable of attempting.
It is humbly to be hoped, that the legislature will interpose on so extraordinary an occasion as this, and direct a punishment[8] some way proportionable to so execrable a crime.
Et quicunque tuum violavit vulnere corpus,
Morte luat merita
- ↑ The abbe de Bourlie, who, having quitted his native country, solicited to be employed against it in several courts of Europe, and assumed the title of marquis de Guiscard. He at length obtained a commission from queen Anne, and embarked in an expedition against France, which miscarried; and his expectations being disappointed by the new ministry, he endeavoured to make his peace at home, by acting here as a spy; and commenced a treasonable correspondence: his letters were intercepted, and produced to him by Mr. Harley, at his examination.
- ↑ Mr. Harley, then chancellor of the exchequer, afterward earl of Oxford.
- ↑ Mr. Henry St. John, afterward lord Bolingbroke.
- ↑ The monk who stabbed Henry III of France.
- ↑ In the beginning of the year 1708, William Greg, an under clerk to Mr. secretary Harley, was detected in a correspondence with monsieur Chamillard, one of the French king's ministers, to whom he transmitted the proceedings of both houses of parliament with respect to the augmentation of the British forces, and other papers of great importance. Greg, when he was indicted of this treason, pleaded guilty, which gave occasion to Mr. Harley's enemies to insinuate, that he was privy to Greg's practices, and had by assurances of pardon prevailed upon him to plead guilty, in order to prevent the examination of witnesses: the house of lords appointed a committee of seven, of whom lord Sunderland was manager, to inquire into the affair; the committee presented an address to the queen, in which complaint was made, that all Mr. Harley's papers had been long exposed to the meanest clerks in his office; and it was requested, that more caution might be used for the future. Upon this address the execution of Greg was deferred a month; during which time he was solicited, threatened, and promised, but still persisting to take the whole guilt upon himself, he was at length executed, having, in a paper which he left behind him, justified Mr. Harley in particular; which he would scarce have thought necessary, if no particular attempt had been made againist him. Hawkseworth.
- ↑ How much he was mistaken appears by lord Bolingbroke's letter to sir William Wyndham.
- ↑ The penknife, which had a tortoiseshell handle, was given by Mr. Harley to Dr. Swift; who had the broken blade joined by a silver chain, some years after, in Dublin.
- ↑ An act was immediately passed, to make an attempt on the life of a privy counsellor, in the execution of his office, felony without benefit of clergy.