The Winding Stair: Francis Bacon, His Rise and Fall Page 19

  The Lord Chancellor sent a tribute to her memory when he wrote to her brother King Christian of Denmark, first mentioning that he himself had ‘newly recovered from a sickness of some severity… and yet I am so pressed and distracted with infinite business that I seem hardly to breathe, or live. I have moreover a new and great grief continually recurring for the death of my most serene mistress Queen Anne, from whose constant favour ever flowing and accumulated upon me I was wont to find myself much refreshed and strengthened… Wherefore it will be my part to cherish continually her most happy memory.’

  The rumour that the Exchequer was so low that it could not find the money for the Queen’s funeral had evidently been unfounded, for on May 21st the Lord Chancellor was able to tell his Majesty that ‘his resources and expenses were now equalled for the ordinary, and there was £120,000 now yearly for the extraordinaries; but he prayed it might be taken but as an estimate’.

  His own finances had also improved, since he had lately received a grant of £1,200 a year out of the office of alienations.

  The exact pressure of business of which he had complained to the King of Denmark was probably connected with the Star Chamber. The quarrel between the Countess of Exeter and her granddaughter Lady Roos had been settled in February, in favour of Lady Exeter. Lady Roos’s parents Sir Thomas and Lady Lake were imprisoned in the Tower, and their unfortunate maid Sara publicly whipped and branded in the face with the letters F and A as a false accuser. A condition of the Lakes’ release was to be an acknowledgment of their offence and an apology to Lady Exeter. In June Sir Thomas was too ill to appear before the Star Chamber, and he made an acknowledgement by letter to the King.

  Another offender at this time was the Lord Treasurer, the Earl of Suffolk, who was accused of misconduct in his office. He was dismissed and ordered to appear before the Star Chamber later in the year.

  It was never pleasant to see fellow Councillors fallen from high position; and what with these unfortunate affairs, his own recent illness and the death of the Queen, Francis was thankful when further business could be deferred until the autumn, the King set forth on his summer progress, and he himself could retire to Gorhambury.

  ‘I hope to give the King a good account of my time this vacation,’ he wrote to the Marquis of Buckingham on July 19th, telling his lordship at the same time, ‘I can but be yours, and desire to better myself, that I may be of more worth to such an owner.’

  The relationship seemed almost re-established on the old footing; and with a few weeks of repose at Gorhambury, dictating through long hours to his willing secretaries—amongst whom he was pleased to count his chaplain William Rawley, a most trustworthy young clergyman from Corpus Christi whom he had known a number of years—it might be he could bring his Novum Organum to near completion.

  The King was at Windsor by the end of August, where Francis waited upon him, and a consultation seems to have been held on the vexed question of the trouble in Bohemia. The Habsburg King of that country, Ferdinand, who was much disliked by his subjects, had been deposed, and his throne offered to James’s son-in-law, the Elector Palatine Frederick. The Elector had, rather ill-advisedly, accepted the offer, and had set off for Prague with his consort Elizabeth. Ex-King Ferdinand was cousin and elected successor to the German Emperor, who had promptly declared war on Frederick. The new King of Bohemia very naturally hoped for aid from Great Britain. His position was not an easy one. He had little or no experience of his new kingdom and had never commanded an army in the field; but so great was his faith in the Protestant cause that he was ready to oppose the armies of the Emperor and the King of Spain.

  We have seen what opinion the Lord Chancellor had of Spain. Unfortunately no document has been discovered giving an account of the interview between him and his Majesty at Windsor, and whether he advised the King to support his son-in-law or to continue in the role of mediator which he had pursued hitherto. Possibly those weeks at Gorhambury had helped Francis to modify his hawk-like attitude. Seizure of the Indies was one thing, but strife on the continent of Europe and against the Emperor of Germany quite another. That he did advise the King one way or the other we know from a letter which he received from Buckingham in September, mentioning the ‘discourse at Windsor’, which, ‘though I heard not myself, yet I heard his Majesty much commend it both for the method and affection you showed therein to his affairs’.

  The Council met shortly afterwards at Wanstead, where the King was by now staying, to discuss the Bohemian question. They tended towards suggesting that support should be given to Frederick; but whether this was the opinion of the whole Council, or of a majority of members, is uncertain. His Majesty disagreed. He saw himself as the peacemaker of Christendom, and had no wish to stir up other princes in Europe or to be thought the aider and abettor of one of them because he happened to be his own son-in-law. So his Majesty temporised, as was his custom in a difficult situation, and declared that nothing could be decided until the legal validity of Frederick’s accession to the throne of Bohemia had been proved. This would take several weeks, so the matter was postponed, probably to everyone’s relief except that of Frederick and his Queen Elizabeth, who had left England with high hopes and expectations of a peaceful life at the time of her marriage in 1613.

  The case of the Earl of Suffolk came up for discussion in the Star Chamber in October, with the Lord Chancellor reporting upon each day’s hearing to the Marquis of Buckingham, who was at Royston with the King. The charges were rather more serious than was originally supposed. The ex-Lord Treasurer, having had access to Crown finances, was accused of having misappropriated certain sums, which accusation was found to be substantiated. Sir Edward Coke, rather typically, wished a fine of £100,000 to be imposed and both the earl and his lady to be imprisoned in the Tower. Lord Chief Justice Hubbard, with the Lord Chancellor, concurred in imprisonment, but desired the fine to be reduced to £30,000.

  This was the course adopted, and to the Tower in November went the earl and his countess, to join the select group of those already enjoying the riverside air of his Majesty’s fortress, including the Earl of Somerset and Sir Thomas Lake.

  The Lord Chancellor also found himself in need of riverside air early in December, though rather more upstream than either the Tower of London or his own residence York House, for on the 12th he wrote to the Marquis of Buckingham, ‘On Friday I left London to hide myself at Kew; for two months and a half together to be strong-bent is too much for my bow.’ He took with him Sir Giles Mompesson, to confer with him on matters of finance pertaining to his Majesty. He and Sir Giles may have lodged in the building at Kew known as Dutch House, belonging to Sir Hugh Portman, a Dutch merchant, the final case heard in the Star Chamber that December having been proceedings taken against certain merchants for exporting gold to Holland.

  Christmas was upon him once again, and, his bow no longer at full-stretch, it is to be hoped that he was able to pass the new year at Gorhambury, perhaps at Verulam House, amid ‘things as are green all winter: holly, ivy, bays, juniper, cypress trees, yew, pineapple trees, fir trees… And myrtles, if they be stoved; and sweet marjoram, warm set.’ He was entering his sixtieth year, and pressure of public work seldom relaxed; he remembered how it had aged his father prematurely, that and the agony of gout and increasing weight; he must watch his diet.

  One thing was certain: he would refuse all invitations to Hatton House when he returned to London. The pace had become too fast for him. Her ladyship had given out, even before Christmas, that she would feast with dancing and revelling every Thursday night until Lent—his former love was indefatigable—and if dance she must then she could foot it with younger men like her son-in-law John Villiers, now Viscount Purbeck, or her stepson-in-law Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick.

  ‘Discern of the coming on of years, and think not to do the same things still; for age will not be defied.’

  16

  The spring of the year 1620 had come, and the King had made no attempt to recall Parli
ament, or to fill the office of Lord Treasurer which had remained vacant since the disgrace of the Earl of Suffolk. Nor had he made any decision as to whether or not to support his son-in-law Frederick of the Palatinate in his claim to the throne of Bohemia.

  The government of the country was not as it should be, certainly not as it had been under Queen Elizabeth; and because he loved his country well, and was loyal in all things to the reigning monarch, the Lord Chancellor was much concerned. The ordinary day-to-day routine of government could be greatly improved, in his opinion, if there were set up various commissions to deal with specific matters, such as the export and import of grain; setting the people to work on manufacture; encouraging husbandry and preventing depopulation in rural areas; recovering drowned lands; proceeding with greater care in the plantations of Ireland; and in the provision of the realm with all kinds of warlike defences, ordnance, powder, munition and armour. He drew up a list of such particulars with meticulous care, and forwarded it to his Majesty, but nothing came of it; Francis Bacon was too far ahead of his time.

  Next he urged the appointing of a new Lord Treasurer. The national debt had been reduced, but not far enough, and Francis drew up recommendations to deal with this matter of extreme importance. A commission here was not enough; it needed ‘an officer of understanding and authority with his ministerial assistants’, for there had been ‘great loss in the inning of your Majesty’s harvest, whereof I see no cause, except it should stay for fouler weather… Your Majesty’s estate requires in point of treasure not only fidelity and judgement, but invention and stirring and assiduity and pursuit, with edifying one thing upon another; all which cannot possibly be done by a commission where the care lies not principally upon one or two men…

  ‘Your business in this kind goes on by one and by one, and not at once, and rather by shifts to stop gaps from time to time, than by any sound establishments; so that according to the ordinary proverb of the woman that roasted her hen by faggot-sticks, stick after stick, the faggot is burnt and the hen not roasted. This is but to let unto your Majesty a lease for life of want and misery… It is good for your Majesty, nay necessary as the case is, that your business be set forward in many parts at once, and that you be kept from straights afar off, and not only eased a little when they press you.’

  On the question of suits, those endless pressing demands for favour that came in every day, he advised, ‘To grant all suits were to undo yourself, or your people. To deny all suits were to see never a contented face… But to make sorted and distributed references, and to let every man bear part of the envy; and likewise to encourage your officers in stopping suits at the seals… But above all to make a good Lord Treasurer, whose proper duty is… to stir in these cases, and to stop suits, put back pensions, check allowances, question merits… and in short to be a screen to your Majesty in things of this nature; such as was the Lord Burghley for many years.’

  Francis had someone for the office in mind, the Lord Chief Justice of the King’s Bench, Sir Henry Montague, but he was not appointed until late November. As to the trouble in Bohemia, here King James was so harried on the one side by the Spanish ambassador, and on the other by his son-in-law, that Francis let it alone; all his Majesty could say was ‘he hoped God would arrange everything for the best’. A pious maxim, but not the best way to conduct his foreign policy. Small wonder, with all these matters still unsettled, that Francis told the Marquis of Buckingham in July, ‘The King’s state, if I should now die and be opened, would be found at my heart, as Queen Mary said of Calais.’ (Buckingham, incidentally, had married Lady Katherine Manners, daughter of the Earl of Rutland, at the end of May. There is no reference to the marriage in this or subsequent letters to Buckingham from the Lord Chancellor.)

  His Majesty was obliged to make up his mind after September 2nd, when news came that the Spanish army, with the backing of the Emperor, had marched into the Palatinate, and Prince Frederick—or the King of Bohemia, as he liked to term himself—was now hard-pressed. James could no longer stand aside. Though he regarded his son-in-law as a usurper of the Bohemian throne, aid must be given to him, and Parliament must be recalled for this purpose. Francis Bacon, thankful that action was to be taken at long last, set about drafting a proclamation for a new Parliament.

  ‘We have resolved, by the advice of our privy council, to hold a Parliament in our city of Westminster… and do require the Lower house, at this time, if ever, to be compounded of the gravest, ablest, and worthiest members that may be found… experienced parliament-men… wise and discreet statesmen, that have been practised in public affairs… substantial citizens and burgesses… well affected in religion, without declining either on the one hand to blindness and superstition, or on the other hand to schism or turbulent disposition.’

  It was decided that Parliament would be summoned in January of 1621; and now, with three months to wait, another disagreeable duty had to be performed. The Lord Chancellor must sit in judgement with his colleagues upon his friend and associate Sir Henry Yelverton, Attorney-General, who some months earlier had been suspended from his office. The charge was that, in a new charter granted to the City of London, he had inserted, without warrant, certain clauses held to be objectionable. This was deemed a serious offence, and he was summoned to appear before the Star Chamber. The Lord Chancellor made a note of what he intended to say; ‘Sorry for the person, being a gentleman that I lived with in Gray’s Inn; served with him when I was attorney; joined with since in many services, and one that ever gave me more attributes in public than I deserved; and besides a man of very good parts; which with me is friendship at first sight; much more joined with so ancient acquaintance. But, as a judge, I hold the offence very great, and that without pressing measure… for if it be suffered that the learned counsel shall practice the art of multiplication upon their warrants, the crown will be destroyed in small time. The great seal, the privy seal, signet, are solemn things; but they follow the King’s hand. It is the bill drawn by the learned counsel and the docket, that leads the King’s hand.’

  The Attorney-General made a humble submission when he appeared before the Court, acknowledged his error, but denied corruption. Judgement was given on November 10th, Sir Edward Coke proposing a fine of £6,000. The Lord Chancellor, with the rest of the Court, suggested £4,000, which was adopted. Sir Henry Yelverton was dismissed his post, and sentenced to imprisonment in the Tower at his Majesty’s pleasure.

  Yet another colleague, through miscalculation, error of judgement or sheer carelessness, had fallen into disgrace; it was not a happy thought or a pleasant occasion. All in all, it had been a trying year, with trouble and threat of war abroad and the King’s indecision here at home, and although, God be praised, there had been no major event to disturb the nation like the Powder Treason of 1605, Francis was reminded of that particular year because he had chosen to publish then his major work The Advancement of Learning, which had fallen flat in consequence. Now he was equally unlucky in the appearance of his unfinished Novum Organum, forming an introduction to the Instauratio Magna, on which he had been working for years, and which contained a series of aphorisms on ‘the interpretation of nature and the kingdom of man’. While The Advancement of Learning can be read and enjoyed by the unscholarly, the Novum Organum, especially the second book, even in translation defies the patient application of the ordinary reader, being a work of immense erudition that can only appeal to, and be understood by, those who have already made a profound study of logic, philosophy and science.

  The work was dedicated to his Majesty, and in the letter accompanying the copy which Bacon sent to the King he said, ‘This work is but a new body of clay, wherein your Majesty by your countenance and protection, may breathe life… I am persuaded the work will gain upon men’s minds in ages, but your gracing it may make it take hold more swiftly; which I would be glad of, it being a work meant not for praise or glory, but for practice, and the good of men. One thing, I confess, I am ambitious of, with hope, which
is, that after these beginnings, and the wheel once set on going, men shall suck more truth out of Christian pens, than hitherto they have done out of heathen. I say with hope, because I hear my former book of the Advancement of Learning is well tasted in the universities here, and the English colleges abroad; and thus is the same argument sunk deeper.’

  His Majesty, in his reply, promised ‘to read it through with care and attention, though I should steal some hours from my sleep; having otherwise as little spare time to read it as you had to write it.’ Hardly an encouraging response, and it is to be hoped that Francis was never aware that the King said later, ‘His last book is like the peace of God, that passeth all understanding.’

  King James, ‘the wisest fool in Christendom’, and no mean scholar himself, could well have risked loss of sleep by reading the Preface, and the Plan, and the First Book of Definitions or Aphorisms, without too much scratching of his head, for much of this Francis had already said both in The Advancement of Learning and in Cogitata et Visa, though in them, it must be confessed, with greater clarity. The false notions that possess men’s minds had always been one of his main preoccupations, and those philosophical systems that have perverted the scholar since the dawn of history. ‘For out of the five and twenty centuries over which the memory and learning of man extends, you can hardly pick out six that were fertile in sciences or favourable to their developments… For only three revolutions and periods of learning can properly be reckoned; one among the Greeks, the second among the Romans, and the last among us, that is to say, the nations of Western Europe; and to each of these hardly two centuries can justly be assigned…

  ‘Again there is another great and powerful cause why the science have made but little progress; which is this. It is not possible to run a course aright when the goal itself has not been rightly placed. Now the true and lawful goal of the sciences is none other than this: that human life be endowed with new discoveries and powers… Men have been kept back from progress in the sciences by reverence for antiquity, by the authority of men accounted great in philosophy, and then by general consent… But by far the greatest obstacle to the progress of science and to the undertaking of new tasks and provinces therein, is found in this—that men despair and think things impossible… And therefore it is fit that I publish and set forth those conjectures of mine which make hope reasonable; just as Columbus did, before that wonderful voyage of his across the Atlantic, when he gave the reasons for his conviction that new lands and continents might be discovered besides those which were known before… There is much ground for hoping that there are still laid up in the womb of nature many secrets of excellent use, having no affinity or parallelism with any thing that is now known, but lying entirely out of the beat of the imagination, which have not yet been found out.’