The Winding Stair: Francis Bacon, His Rise and Fall Page 16

  Whoever the bearer of the letters may have been, his method of approach must have been unfortunate. His employer was obliged once again to write a long letter to his Majesty, expressing deep apology for the stand he had taken. ‘And now that your Majesty hath been pleased to open yourself to me, I shall be willing to further the match by any thing that shall be desired of me, or that is in my power.’ (And how he must have cursed inwardly for ever having become involved!) ‘I do humbly acquiesce and anchor upon your Majesty’s judgement… For the interest which I have in the mother, I do not doubt but it was increased by this, that I in judgement, as I then stood, affected that which she did in passion.’

  In a previous paragraph he said, ‘For the manner of my affection to my Lord of Buckingham, for whom I would spend my life… I must humbly confess that it was in this a little parent-like, this being no other term than his Lordship hath heretofore vouchsafed to my counsels, but in truth, without any grain of disesteem for his Lordship’s discretion. For I know him to be naturally a wise man, of a sound and staid wit, and again I know he hath the best tutor in Europe. But yet I was afraid that the height of his fortune might make him too secure, and, as the proverb is, a looker-on sometimes seeth more than a gamester.’

  Next a letter to Sir Henry Yelverton, the Attorney-General, explaining that Francis was now resolved to further the match, and another one to Lady Hatton pressing the same sentiment. Couched in what language, and with what regrets, alas, we do not know. Finally, a letter of apology to the Earl of Buckingham.

  ‘I do hear my Lady your mother and your brother Sir John do speak of me with some bitterness and neglect. I must bear with the one as a lady and the other as a lover, and with both for your Lordship’s sake… But I hope, though I be true servant to your Lordship, you will not have me vassal to their passions, especially as long as they are governed by Sir Edward Coke and Secretary Winwood; the latter of which I take to be the worst; for Sir Edward Coke, I think, is more modest and discreet… God keep us from these long journeys and absence, which makes misunderstandings and gives advantages to untruth, and God ever prosper and preserve your Lordship.’

  It would have been better to have named no names. Secretary Winwood was not likely to forgive this allusion, when it came to his ears. Then another error of judgement, though very probably at the time it was thought to be an excellent move. The King was to be a guest on his journey south at the house of Sir Thomas Wilbraham at Townsend, near Nantwich. He was there, in fact, on August 25th. And a guest at the same time was none other than Mr. Tobie Matthew, obviously hotfoot from Gorhambury. This coincidence seems to have escaped Francis Bacon’s biographer James Spedding, who covered every aspect of his life with such meticulous care and accuracy, but it could be that if he knew of it he did not think the event of much significance.

  If Tobie Matthew was not presented to his Majesty at Nantwich he would certainly have sought out the Earl of Buckingham, whose patronage had brought him, a recusant, home to England; and it must have been with this encounter in mind that he had either asked for, or received, an invitation to stay with Sir Thomas Wilbraham. Tobie’s experience on the continent should have put him on his guard, but one cannot help wondering if his friendship with the Lord Keeper, and his very recent visit to Gorhambury, had made him a trifle too enthusiastic when talking of these matters to the favourite. An incautious word here, another there, how he and his friend the Lord Keeper had sat up half the night discussing world affairs, and how they had corresponded regularly through the years, he was even permitted to read his manuscripts… this would be quite enough to touch the pride of the young favourite who had hitherto been under the impression that Francis Bacon had reserved his billets doux for him alone. A whiff of jealousy, perhaps? We cannot tell.

  It is significant, however, that on the night his Majesty spent at Nantwich he found time to indite another long letter to the Lord Keeper, in reply to his of August 12th, taking him to task for having spoken of his ‘parent-like affection’ for the Earl of Buckingham and similar expressions, which leads one to suppose that his Majesty himself had some feelings of jealousy where the Lord Keeper and his favourite were concerned, a sentiment which, if fanned by the gossip over-prevalent amongst his courtiers, would be quite enough to stir the embers of mistrust. This letter could well have been dictated later on his progress south, so why especially upon that night in Nantwich, when Tobie Matthew was a fellow-guest?

  The remainder of the King’s letter concerned the marriage business once again, upbraiding the Lord Keeper for not having signed the warrant for Sir Edward Coke to recover his child, but all particulars would be left until the proper time. And, ‘We commend you to God. Given under our signet at Nantwich, in the fifteenth year of our reign of Great Britain.’

  So Francis’s letter of apology to his Majesty had done little good, rather the reverse. And Tobie Matthew had achieved even less. It needed a man of real authority, whom he could trust implicitly, to meet the King on his progress south and report back to the Lord Keeper. Such a man was Sir Henry Yelverton, the Attorney-General, and so he travelled north to Coventry. Unfortunately Sir Edward Coke had the same idea, and was first on the scene, as the Attorney-General told Francis in his very full report. ‘I dare not think my journey lost, because I have with much joy seen the face of my master, the King, though more clouded towards me than I looked for. Sir Edward Coke hath not forborne by any engine to heave both at your Honour and myself; and he works by the weightiest instrument, the Earl of Buckingham, who as I see sets him as close to him as his shirt, the Earl speaking in Sir Edward’s phrase, and as it were menacing in his spirit.’

  The Attorney-General found that the earl had been ‘misled by misinformation which he embraced as truth’. Yelverton stood his ground firmly and boldly, and desired the earl not to give credit to slander. He then approached his Majesty, who ‘graciously gave me his hand to kiss’, but was too pressed with other business to listen to explanations then. Not exactly a rebuff, but not far off it, whereupon the Attorney-General proceeded to glean further information from the gossiping courtiers which he relayed to Francis:

  ‘Every courtier is acquainted that the Earl professeth openly against you as forgetful of his kindness, and unfaithful to him in your love and actions… not forbearing in open speech (as divers have told me, and this bearer, your gentleman, hath also heard) to tax you… to be as unfaithful to him as you were to the Earls of Essex and Somerset. That it is too common in every man’s mouth in court, that your greatness shall be abated, and as your tongue hath been a razor to some, so shall theirs be to you.

  ‘That there is laid up for you, to make your burden the more grievous, many petitions to his Majesty against you. Sir Edward Coke, as if he were already upon his wings, triumphs exceedingly; hath much private conference with his Majesty…

  ‘My noble Lord… I would humbly desire that your Lordship fail not to be with his Majesty at Woodstock; the sight of you will fright some. That you single not yourself from the other Lords [Yelverton refers to the Council] but justify all the proceedings as all your joint acts; and I little fear but you pass conqueror. That you retort the clamour and noise in this business upon Sir Edward Coke, by the violence of his carriage. That you seem not dismayed, but open yourself bravely and confidently, wherein you can excell all other subjects; by which means I know you shall amaze some and daunt others.

  ‘I have abused your Lordship’s patience long, but my duty and affection towards your Lordship shall have no end; but I shall still wish your Honour greater, and rest myself,

  ‘your Honour’s servant,

  ‘Henry Yelverton.

  ‘Daventry, September 3rd.

  ‘I beseech your Lordship burn this letter.’

  Truly a faithful friend, though we should not have had proof of it had his postscript been obeyed. In the event, Francis did not travel to Woodstock, but the Attorney-General had certainly made an impression upon the Earl of Buckingham, and presumably upon his Majes
ty as well, for the earl wrote to the Lord Keeper from Warwick two days later in a far more conciliatory tone, expressing his hope that he would shortly see him, ‘where will be better trial of all that hath passed than can be made by letters’.

  The King returned to London on September 15th, and at some moment between then and the 21st a meeting took place between Francis and the earl—professedly upon a matter relating to a threat against the King’s life. The encounter was evidently successful, the Lord Keeper’s charm of manner and powers of persuasion prevailing upon the favourite, for the following day he wrote very fully to Francis:

  ‘Your offer of submission unto me… battered so the unkindness that I had conceived in my heart for your behaviour towards me in my absence, as out of the sparks of my old affection towards you I went to sound his Majesty’s intention how he meant to behave himself towards you… The sight of his deep-conceived indignation quenched my passion, making me upon the instant change from the person of a party into a peace-maker; so I was forced upon my knees to beg of his Majesty that he would put no public act of disgrace upon you. And as I dare say no other person would have been patiently heard in this suit by his Majesty but myself, so did I, though not without difficulty, obtain thus much. That he would not so far disable you from the merit of your future service, as to put any particular mark of disgrace upon your person. Only… he cannot omit, though laying aside all passion, to give a kingly reprimand at his first sitting in council to so many of his councillors as were then here behind and were actors in this business, for their ill behaviour in it…

  ‘I protest all this time past it was no small grief unto me to hear the mouth of so many upon this occasion open to load you with innumerable malicious and detracting speeches, as if no music were more pleasing to my ears than to rail of you; which made me rather regret the ill-nature of mankind, that like dogs love to set upon him that they see once snatched at. And to conclude, my Lord, you have hereby a fair occasion so to make good hereafter your reputation by your sincere service to his Majesty, as also by your firm and constant kindness to your friends, as I may, your Lordship’s old friend, participate of the comfort and honour that will thereby come to you.

  ‘Your Lordship’s faithful friend and servant,

  ‘G.B.’

  Yes… A decidedly better tone and atmosphere, but Francis could not ignore the fact that he had come very near to losing his place. The King’s absence and his position of authority had accustomed him to power, a dangerous responsibility too easily misused, as he knew very well when other men possessed it. And it had all come about through loyalty to Elizabeth Hatton—memories shared, sweet friendship’s sake—and, he must not deny it, mounting irritation at the conduct of the Secretary of State who presumed too much at the Council table.

  Now, it seemed, his Majesty was pacified, the Earl of Buckingham was reconciled, but things would never be quite the same again; that parent-pupil relationship belonged to the past, and any attempt to renew it would not be favoured. Such intimacy was frowned on by the King, and the pupil appeared to have outgrown it. Francis must tread more warily in future, bearing in mind that a careless or too confident step forward upon that winding stair might cause a man to slip and fall headlong.

  Back-tracking was not pleasant for him. He must make overtures to Lady Compton, and to Sir John Villiers. Edward Sherburn, that able young secretary, could be employed on this as go-between, and in return Francis would stand godfather to his newly-born son. Sir Edward Coke must be welcomed back to the Council table, to which he had been restored, but hardest of all was Sir Edward’s request that his wife Lady Hatton should be held in preventive custody prior to an examination as to the truth or forgery of documents pretending to be from the Earl of Oxford. She was permitted to lodge with first an Alderman Bennet, and later with Sir William Craven, but once separated from her daughter her influence had gone, and Coke was able to have his way at last, and insist upon the wedding taking place as soon as possible.

  Whether Francis Bacon was obliged to swallow pride and attend we are not told, but on Michaelmas Day Sir John Villiers, elder brother of the Earl of Buckingham, was married to Frances Coke, daughter of Sir Edward Coke and Lady Hatton. The wedding took place at Hampton Court, and his Majesty gave away the bride. The Queen and the Prince of Wales also attended the ceremony in the private chapel of the palace. Lady Hatton had been invited, but prayed to be excused, through sickness.

  One of the gossips, writing to Dudley Carleton, had this to say of the affair, ‘My Lord Coke gave his daughter to the King, with some words of compliment at the giving. The King gave her to Sir John Villiers. The Prince sat with her to a grand dinner and supper to many Lords and Ladies, my Lord Canterbury, my Lord Treasurer, my Lord Chamberlain, etc. The King dinner and supper drank health to the bride, the bridegroom stood behind the bride; dinner and supper. The bride and bridegroom lay next day a-bed till past 12 o’clock, for the King sent word he would come and see them, therefore would they not rise. My Lord Coke looked with a merry countenance and sat at dinner and supper, but my Lady Hatton was not at the wedding, but is still at Alderman Bennet’s a prisoner. The King sent for her to the wedding, but she desired to be excused, saying she was sick. My Lord of Buckingham, mother, brethren, their sons and sisters were throughout day at Court, my Lord Coke’s sons and their sons, but I saw never a Cecil.’

  If it was not a case of all’s well that ends well for the marriage itself, which later proved to be extremely unhappy, the immediate consequences were not unfortunate for the Lord Keeper. That thorn in his flesh, the Secretary of State, Sir Ralph Winwood, fell ill, very suddenly, in the third week in October, and, despite blood-letting and the usual remedies, died on the 27th of the month. ‘Upon the opening of his body,’ reported John Chamberlain, who was a close friend, ‘it appears he could not possibly have lasted long, having his heart withered almost to nothing, his spleen utterly rotten, one of his kidneys clean gone, the other perished, his liver full of black spots, his lungs not sound, besides divers other defects.’ Sir Ralph can therefore be forgiven for his interference at the Council table, and for beating his dog; he had good reason.

  The King did not at once appoint a successor to his place, but in the meantime handed over the seals of office to the Earl of Buckingham, who, possibly at the discreet suggestion of the Lord Keeper and anyway hoping to restore good relations with his new sister-in-law’s family, drove himself on Lord Mayor’s Day to set Lady Hatton at liberty, and conduct her to her father (who had been created Earl of Exeter in 1605) at Cecil House in the Strand.

  All was forgiven. Lady Hatton went to Court, and was reconciled both to his Majesty and to the Queen, who had always been fond of her. Lady Compton was also present. That evening there was a great feast at Cecil House, and a week later Lady Hatton entertained the royal party at Hatton House. ‘My Lord Coke only was absent,’ went the report, ‘who in all vulgar opinions was there expected. His Majesty was never merrier nor more satisfied, who had not patience to sit a quarter of an hour without drinking the health of my Lady Elizabeth Hatton, which was pledged first by my Lord Keeper and my Lord Marquis Hamilton, and then by all the lords and ladies with great gravity and respect, and then by all the gallants in the next room.’

  Everyone was happy, except perhaps Sir Edward Coke, who dined alone in his chambers in the Temple. As for the Lord Keeper, he had every reason, like his Majesty, to be satisfied. He too, like his former love, the Lady Hatton, was restored to favour. Letters once more passed almost daily between him and the Earl of Buckingham. His opponent at the Council table, Sir Ralph Winwood—God rest his soul—had gone to his Maker, and his old rival, ex-Lord Chief Justice Coke, although a Councillor, had been outwitted. Young Edward Sherburn had the makings of a most excellent secretary, and Tobie Matthew was a constant visitor (‘grown very gay or rather gaudy in his attire,’ so Chamberlain observed, ‘and noted for certain night walks to the Spanish Ambassador’), but most satisfying of all was that once again,
at long last, the Lord Keeper was living where he most wished to be, under the roof of his old home, York House.

  14

  On New Year’s Day, 1618, his Majesty was pleased to create George Villiers Marquis of Buckingham, which seems to have caused something of a surprise in circles about the Court, the honour not having been expected. John Chamberlain reported that ‘no such matter had been spoken of’, but the King ‘professed to do it for the affection he bear him, more than he did to any man, and for the affection, faith, and modesty that he found in him’. And on the Sunday following the new year, the same writer announced that ‘the Lord Keeper was made Lord Chancellor, wherein he has this advantage that it is for life, with £600 a year increase. The speech goes that he shall be made a baron, and hath the making of another given him to discharge his debts; which in courtesy he hath offered to his eldest brother [half-brother Sir Nicholas Bacon of Redgrave, now seventy-eight years old] for £1,000 less than another should give; which he will not accept: mindful perhaps of his father’s motto or posy, mediocria firma. His Lordship hath of late much insinuated into the King’s and Lord Marquis’s favour; and takes a new course of thriving; having at one clap cashiered sixteen of his gallants.’

  John Chamberlain, who, as we know, had been a close friend of the late Sir Ralph Winwood, seldom lost an opportunity to take a dig at Francis Bacon.

  That same evening the new marquis gave a great dinner, with his Majesty and the Prince of Wales present, and undoubtedly the Lord Chancellor also—surely with his lady taking precedence over the wives of barons—and we are told seventeen dozen pheasants and twelve dozen partridges were served at table.