14—
La Rochelle

On the war front, while Charles and Buckingham were pinning their hopes upon a fleet to relieve La Rochelle, nearer the heart of the struggle the news was bad. Mansfeld was defeated by Wallenstein at the Bridge of Dessau in the summer of 1626, Christian of Denmark was defeated by Tilly at Lutter on August 27, a defeat on a scale which virtually meant abandoning the whole of North Germany. Christian was bitter, accusing Charles of bad faith in leaving him to struggle alone. Charles, hearing the news on September 12, showed a rare agitation. He rushed to London, called a Council meeting which lasted four hours, sent for the Danish Ambassador and, with tears in his eyes, protested that he would stake his crown and his life for his uncle, but reminded him of the dire financial straits he was in.

The situation was, indeed, desperate. Charles had hoped to show he was master in his own house by throwing out the Monsieurs and throwing out two Parliaments, but he was a master without resources and unless he could raise money he was helpless. He offered the Crown jewels once more — this time to the City of London — and although the citizens declined to lend upon so doubtful a security, a few people made gifts instead. There were three sales of royal plate in August and September 1626. A proposal, supported by Buckingham, to debase the coinage was turned down on arguments brought forward by Sir Robert Cotton. The raising of money by privy seals had not proved sufficiently successful to merit its repetition. The substitution of free gifts for the subsidies promised, but not passed into law, by the previous Parliament appeared a likely way. But the success of this enterprise depended upon the Justices of the Peace who would be expected to collect the gifts. Since it was apparent that such Justices as Eliot, Phelips, Seymour, Alford, Mansell, Digges and Wentworth would not co-operate, Charles removed them from the Commission

of the Peace and attempted to make a reasoned claim for the money through specially appointed commissioners in each county who would assess the inhabitants in accordance with previous Parliamentary assessments. To make payment easier he abandoned the idea of a free gift and promised that the money would be repaid 'as soon as we shall be any ways enabled thereunto', at the same time pledging his royal word that not a penny would be spent upon anything but public service.

In Middlesex, Essex and the home counties the response was at first encouraging, but just as plans were being made to extend the collection the Judges stepped in with a veto, claiming that they could not be certain of its legality. Charles dismissed the Chief Justice, Sir Randal Crew, and replaced him by Sir Nicholas Hyde. But the news of the resistance of the Judges encouraged people to refuse to lend and some who had already consented revoked their promises. There was a suggestion that troops recruited for the new naval enterprise should be quartered upon the counties most reluctant to lend, but reflection indicated that since both the soldiers and the populace were equally disaffected the action would create rather than suppress disturbance. Instead, rich men were imprisoned by warrant from the Privy Council while poorer men were forced under martial law to serve as soldiers. The names of those who resisted what was now generally termed a forced loan sound like a preliminary roll-call for the struggle to come, including Essex, Holles, St John, Warwick, Saye and Sele, Hampden, Eliot, Wentworth, Darnell. Five of them appealed in November for cause of their imprisonment to be shown. But a majority of King's Bench ruled that the command of the King was in itself sufficient cause and the five knights were returned to prison. With tonnage and poundage Charles felt he was on firmer ground, for not only were customs duties an established form of royal revenue, but his Parliament had expressed its willingness to confirm them and had merely delayed because of an irregularity. So, in the face of growing opposition from merchants, he issued a commission to collect taxes at the ports. Naval foraging, that other source of revenue, met with little success until in March 1627 Pennington took three French prizes, the proceeds of which boosted the preparations in English ports.

Meanwhile, they had all been trying to keep up appearances. Buckingham joined with the Venetian envoy in baiting a lion at the Tower; in the Queen's masque in January Charles led the dancing with his wife and Buckingham, and the revels continued until four in the

morning. But the kind of gossip that circulated did the Duke no good: he had been carried in a litter to tennis while the King walked at his side; when he arrived late at the Christmas play it was begun again for his benefit. More serious were the riots at the ports where sailors were crying for wages. Groups of them came up to London demanding satisfaction of the Lord Admiral, they forcibly stopped his coach and created disturbances outside his house so that he was compelled to barricade his gates. When they were threatened with hanging they said that there were plenty more of them to come, and they were, indeed, joined by soldiers similarly demanding wages. In the crescendo of antagonism against Buckingham all the ills of the state seemed to combine. He was held responsible for the Queen's sterility, and even the death of his baby son, aged sixteen months, in March 1627 brought him little sympathy. Only Charles continued his support in spite of the fact that there were rumours that he himself was being included in the general dissaffection by, for example, sinister groups of Scotsmen who went about demanding that they would know how James met his death!

Nevertheless, the Rochelle project went forward and when on June 11 the King was once again at Plymouth dining aboard his flagship there was an air of joviality about his visit. Mirth and music were contributed by Archie the Fool and by the Duke's musicians. Charles himself talked of nothing but his ships, he continually sent healths across the water to neighbouring vessels, and he ordered a five-gun salute to the Duke of Soubise, the Huguenot leader they were sailing to help. Buckingham himself was in command of the fleet of eighty-four ships, which, with some 10,000 men, left Stokes Bay on June 27. They carried battering rams, landing trains, lodging materials, scaling ladders, guns, cannons, and other materials of war. Besides victuals their cargo included cows, sheep and poultry for the benefit of the besieged, an assortment of musical instruments, bedding, much 'brave apparel' for the Duke (doubtless to wear when he appeared among the Rochellese as their liberator), his own rich coach and his litter, many jewels, horses for tilting, and what the Venetian Ambassador caustically described as 'other hindrances to warfare'. The fleet, he asserted, was 'so furnished as to arouse no fear.' But its intentions were grandiose, as the instructions Charles gave to Buckingham on June 19 made clear. The French were encroaching upon English rights on the seas and, in spite of the terms of the marriage treaty, were endeavouring 'to root out that religion whereof by just

title we are the defender'. Buckingham, therefore, was to capture or destroy any French or Spanish ships that seemed likely to interfere with English shipping; he was to proceed to La Rochelle and, if his assistance was still needed, was to hand over his soldiers to Soubise, who would accompany the expedition. Buckingham would then free the English vessels still detained by the French at Bordeaux, establish mastery of the seas round the coast of France, and break up Spanish shipping, securing such French and Spanish prizes as he could.

Spanish and French shipping had retreated into the shelter of their ports, and apart from a futile chase after four Dunkirkers, the English fleet had an uneventful journey to Rochelle. The weather was particularly foul, and it was not until July 10 that they anchored off the Isle of Rhé which controlled the approach to the town. The capture of the island, besides breaking the blockade of the town on the seaward side, would be of great value to Britain. Its harbour would shelter her commerce, it would be a good base for striking at French and Spanish shipping, its command of the salt marshes round the French coast would contribute considerably to private income and the royal revenue. In the face of stiff opposition from the French and casualties on both sides a landing was made and the English settled down to besiege the fortress of St Martin, the chief town of the island, mounting a strong blockade and barricading the seaward approaches to the town. The enterprise seemed straightforward enough. But the fort was well held, the rocky ground upon which it stood was unsuited to siege warfare, and the French had the advantage of reinforcements on the mainland and ships in nearby French ports. The English, on the other hand, were at the end of a long and slow line of communication whose reliability depended upon the weather. The reinforcements which Buckingham sent for were held up first by lack of money but then by a great storm which so battered the ships in their English harbour that repairs were necessary, supplies were consumed, and they had to be revictualled before they could sail.

As summer gave way to autumn on the Isle of Rhé the situation of the besiegers was difficult. They held on through expectation of help from home and in the knowledge that the Fort was reaching starvation point. It seemed, indeed, on the point of surrender when, on September 28, a night of favourable winds, supply ships battered their way through the English vessels and past the barricades to drop supplies before the fort. A decision to abandon the siege was made, then reversed when news came that the English reinforcements were

on their way. But by October there was still no sign of them. By this time French troops were landing on the island from the mainland, the weather was wet and cold, the condition of the besiegers deplorable. Buckingham decided on a desperate attempt to take the fortress, but the garrison was forewarned, the scaling ladders proved too short, the siege cannon, instead of being ready for use, had mistakenly been reshipped. The assault was a complete failure. Buckingham halted his retreat in order to collect his wounded and then began to move across a narrow causeway to his ships. As he did so the French inflicted merciless casualties in the confined passage: they had the killing, taking, and drowning of our men at their pleasure, as an eye witness said.

Buckingham's personal bravery was never in doubt, nor his devotion to his men, his care of the sick and wounded, his willingness to share hardship with them, even to risk his life for them. He had also shown an aptness in learning the art of war that deserved more co-operative commanders. The failure of the assault, the disastrous retreat, resulted from immature judgment, a shocking breakdown of support from home, a lack of co-ordination among the high command and a reluctance to fight among the rank and file. Yet Buckingham could have been successful. If the wind had not been in the right direction supplies would not have got through to Fort St Martin; if the wind had not been in the wrong direction reinforcements would have reached him from England in time to affect the issue; even in the tragic farce of siege ladders being too short the issue might have been turned if someone had not blundered.^[1]

Charles had followed events from home as closely as the distance allowed and throughout July was urging the officers of his Treasury to raise money for Buckingham's relief. The 'forced loan' had produced something like £240,000, for most of those assessed, moved by exhortation or threat, had contributed. But this money had already been swallowed up. An extra £14,000 was urgently needed if Buckingham was to be supplied. Yet, even at this time of stress, Charles had other projects on his mind. The rumoured sale of the Mantuan collection of pictures, brought to his attention by the Countess of Arundel a few years earlier, had never been far from his thoughts. Nicolas Lanier, one of his musicians, whom he had sent to Italy shortly after his accession to seek out art treasures, had been staying in Venice with Daniel Nye, a shadowy figure purporting to deal in rare perfumes, furs, and other luxuries, under cover of which he had become a

familiar figure in the half-light of international art dealing. He had acted as agent for Sir Henry Wotton, Dudley Carleton, and Buckingham himself, and he now threw himself with zest into the most exciting deal he had yet undertaken.

The Gonzaga, Dukes of Mantua, were not art lovers, and their stupendous collection had been formed for the aggrandisement of their Court and State rather than to gratify their artistic sense. The interests of the present Duke certainly lay elsewhere: it was said he would pay more for a dwarf than an Old Master and he was rumoured to have his eye on a particularly delectable female dwarf while the sale of his art treasures was being negotiated. A decline in the silk industry upon which much of Mantua's prosperity depended was a further factor inclining him to exchange his art collection for ready cash. By August 1627 the work of Nye and Lanier was bearing fruit and Charles was asked to provide £15,000 for the bulk of the Mantuan collection, including Titian's Twelve Caesars, Raphael's Holy Family, and canvases of Caravaggio, Andrea del Sarto and Correggio. This was a month after Buckingham had arrived before Rhé and when it had become evident that further supplies would be needed for his aid.^[2]

Charles's anxiety was apparent in the letters he was despatching to his Treasury officials in July. There was desperation in his note to Marlborough and Weston from Woodstock on August 1:

. . . if Buckingham should not now be supplied not in show, but substantially, having so bravely, and I thank God, successfully, begun his expedition, it were an irrevocable shame to me, and all this nation; and those that either hinder, or, according to their several places, further not this action, as much as they may, deserve to make their end at Tyburn.

Yet, whatever inward struggles Charles may have had, he clinched the art deal on August 10 and ten days after writing this letter instructed Burlamachi to pay £15,000 to Nye for the Duke of Mantua. Burlamachi appeared more conscious of the threat to Buckingham than Charles himself and wrote frantically to Charles's secretary: 'I pray you, let me know where money shall be found to pay this great sum. If it were for two or three thousand pounds, it could be borne, but for £15,000 besides the other engagements for His Majesty's service, it will utterly put me out of any possibility to do anything in those provisions which are necessary for my lord duke's relief.'

Charles did not change his mind though he suffered severe pangs of conscience. 'I have understood your necessities for fault of timely

supplies', he wrote to Buckingham on October 13, and 'I still stand in fear that these may come too late.' By November 6 his fears were even greater and he dreaded that Buckingham might have abandoned the enterprise. If so, he took full responsibility upon himself because of the failure to send supplies in time. He sent a letter to await Buckingham's return: 'in case you should come from Rhé without perfecting your work, happily begun, but I must confess with grief, ill seconded.' 'I assure you', he said, 'that, with whatsoever success ye shall come to me, ye shall ever be welcome, one of my greatest griefs being that I have not been with you in this time of suffering, for I know we would have much eased each other's griefs.' Buckingham's mother saw clearly what was happening, and while the Mantuan deal was going through wrote curtly to her son before Rhé: 'at home . . . all is merry and well pleased, though the ships be not victualled as yet, nor mariners to go with them.'^[3]

It is not certain that supplies would have arrived in time even if Charles had not put the Mantuan deal first, or that they would have made any difference to the little force before Rhé. What is certain is that the failure of the expedition destroyed both Buckingham's and Charles's credibility as commanders. 'The disorder and confusion', wrote Denzil Holles to his brother-in-law Wentworth, describing the retreat, 'was so great, the truth is no man can tell what was done. This only every man knows, that since England was England it received not so dishonourable a blow.' It was thought that 4000 of the 6000 men who sailed had been slain, four colonels lost, and at least thirty-two colours lost or in the enemy's hands. The expedition had failed 'with no little dishonour to our nation, excessive charge to our treasury, and great slaughter to our men'. The irony of the French King in restoring freely to his sister all English prisoners was probably lost upon Charles. Louis' remark that if he had known that his brother of England had longed so much for the Isle of Rhé he would have sold it him for half the money he had spent, probably hurt more.

The most charitable interpretation of Charles's action in buying the Mantuan collection at such a time is that he was not deliberately abandoning the Duke in favour of Mantua but that he was hoping, by prevarication, to get both relief for Buckingham and the art treasures he coveted. The pictures began to be shipped almost immediately but Nye protested that he had not been paid and that Burlamachi would not accept his bills because the money had not been provided by the King. Charles seemed to be solving his problems by paying over

the money in driblets. Nye received nothing until 23 November 1629 when he got £11,500; on 15 December 1630 he received £3,000, on 25 July 1631 a further £2454.14.3d. In all, bills were paid to Nye which raised something over £18,000, which included the cost of shipping the collection. On a less charitable interpretation Charles was prepared to abandon Buckingham and La Rochelle, which he had repeatedly insisted was bound up with his sister's fortunes, in favour of the mouth-watering morsels which Nye dangled before him. He had chosen not Buckingham, not the Huguenots, not his sister, but a fabulous art collection. But upon the Duke's return his action was fully in character. He sent his own coach to Portsmouth to fetch Buckingham and rushed to meet him 'as if he were returned from some conquest'.^[4] Within a year Charles was engaged in further negotiations with Mantua. The Mantuan Duke had reserved nine of his choicest canvases, including Mantegna's Triumph of Julius Ceasar, as well as many fine statues from the first sale, Nye wrote. Now his son had succeeded him and would sell them to raise money for war. Cardinal Richelieu and the Queen Mother of France were in the market for the treasures but if Nye acted promptly he could secure them for Charles for a further £10,000. Charles clinched the deal and in April 1628 bought the second part of the Mantuan collection.