Elizabeth
Page 23
As one of his dearest friends, Francis wrote Devereux a lengthy letter, warning him that he could ill afford to offend the Queen. He was ‘a man of nature not to be ruled’, Francis said, and he did not have a great fortune fit for his position. He was also a soldier and popular with the people, and if the Queen truly took against him, she could ruin his life, keep him poor, and punish him and everyone and anyone who loved and supported him. Devereux should bear this in mind when dealing with Elizabeth, Francis warned. Giving in to her, as Robert Dudley or Christopher Hatton might have done, and asking no great favours was the best way to react. He should play down his military past, ‘let that be a sleeping honour awhile’, and he might regain the Queen’s favour and be better able to serve himself and his followers.15 It was good advice, but Devereux did not follow it.
In 1597, Francis published his first acknowledged work Essays, dedicated to his brother Anthony, and the Meditationes Sacrae. He also began to pursue Elizabeth, the granddaughter of William Cecil and the widow of Sir William Newport, the nephew and heir of Sir Christopher Hatton. Such a marriage would have solved the problem of his finances as Elizabeth was a very wealthy woman, but Francis was one of several suitors for her hand.
In September, matters came to ahead when Francis was arrested for debt while leaving the Tower after interrogating someone who was accused of trying to poison the Queen. He owed £300 to a goldsmith. He wrote to Sir Thomas Egerton, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, and to Robert Cecil, who was Secretary of State, to try to get matters resolved, but in the meantime, his old rival Sir Edward Coke married the desirable widow, again pipping him to his desired post. If it was any consolation, the marriage would turn out to be a miserable union.
In that same year, Devereux was made Lieutenant-General and Admiral of a substantial fleet whose orders were to first go to Ferrol in Galicia and destroy the Spanish fleet harboured there, and then to proceed on to the Azores and intercept the Spanish treasure fleet. The project was a disaster from start to finish, however. The winds blew in the wrong direction, and when the ships finally left port they ran into a ferocious storm that drove most of them back. When they were finally refitted, it was decided that the fleet should go straight to the Azores. Devereux was in command, with Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Thomas Howard acting as vice-admirals. Devereux and Raleigh argued, and while waiting for the treasure fleet, they managed to miss the bullion ships altogether. Another attempt to seize one of the islands and win a significant prize similarly failed, leaving the luckless fleet to limp back home in shame.
It seemed Devereux’s luck had ended. In 1599, he led a further disastrous military campaign in Ireland, which destroyed his reputation and sent him spiralling on the path to his destruction. He was ordered to go north to Ulster and attack the forces of Hugh O’Neill, Earl of Tyrone; in fact he went south and lost several engagements. To compound matters, he knighted some of his followers, expressly against Elizabeth’s orders, as only she could confer knighthood. Francis, who had always been a friend to Devereux, advised the Queen to bring him home,‘for to discontent him as you do and yet to put arms and power into his hands may be a kind of temptation to make him prove cumbersome and unruly.’16 This advice proved premonitory. Elizabeth could no longer trust Devereux.
In September, far from attacking O’Neill, Devereux met with him to negotiate a truce and left Ireland against the Queen’s orders. Two weeks later he was back in London with 200 soldiers. He rode out to Nonsuch Palace and surprised Elizabeth in her bedchamber before she had had time to dress or have her hair pinned up. She managed to placate him before having him confined to his rooms. The next day Francis arrived and managed to see his friend for a few minutes. Again, his advice was sound; Devereux should not present his negotiations with O’Neill as a victory – which they certainly were not. He should remain quiet and humble and say nothing to the Queen about returning to Ireland. In the end, however, his advice was irrelevant. Devereux did not meet with the Queen at all; instead he was sent to York House and Elizabeth began discussions with her Council as to how he should be treated.
The popular mob supported Devereux and thought he had been badly treated. Francis suggested that the Queen should make some small gesture in honour of his achievements to placate the people. Elizabeth knew the perils of being seen to give in to someone like Devereux, however, and this informed her decision. On 29 November 1599, charges were formally laid against Devereux without Francis in attendance, something that particularly annoyed the Queen. He defended himself, saying that he could not be present as he did not want to fuel the rumours, started by his enemies, accusing him of being instrumental in the charges laid against Devereux. As Devereux and the Queen were both popular, Francis was being painted as the villain behind the scenes.
Whether on the advice of Francis or not, the Queen decided that the charges should be heard by the Council in private to avoid further public outcry. However, with unfortunate timing for Devereux, the historian Sir John Hayward published The First Part of the Life and Raigne of King Henrie IIII. The subject was Henry IV, who had usurped the throne of Richard II, and the book was dedicated to Devereux. In it, Richard II was described as a bad ruler and the writer praised Henry IV for deposing him in the name of the people of England. The book also included a section featuring examples of rulers deposed for the good of the country.
Elizabeth passed the text to Francis, asking if he found the text treasonable. He replied, jokingly, that he did not, although he found some felonies there: ‘… the author had committed very apparent theft, for he had taken most of his sentences of Cornelius Tactitus …’17 The Queen’s reaction was to appoint Francis as one of the four Crown Counsels to present the case against Devereux, in particular the charge that Devereux had sponsored Sir John Hayward’s book, giving ‘occasion and countenance to a seditious pamphlet’.
Francis asked to be excused from this duty, but was denied. The hearing took place at York House on 5 June 1600. Devereux admitted to the charges that he had made a treaty with O’Neill rather than vanquishing him in battle, and that he had left Ireland without permission. The Council effectively found him guilty. As punishment, he was removed from certain Court posts and placed under house arrest.
Francis was asked by Elizabeth to prepare an account of the proceedings. When he read his report to the Queen, he was delighted when she indicated that she had been moved by the words of Devereux (as reported by Francis) and told him ‘that she perceived old love would not easily be forgotten.’18
Francis began in earnest to try to rehabilitate his friend. He came up with the idea of creating two letters, one supposedly from his brother Anthony to Devereux, and the other, Devereux’s reply, in which he could remorsefully show that he had been justly reprimanded and could be safely forgiven. Francis would then arrange for the Queen to ‘accidentally’ read the letters. This would make the contents seem more honest than a letter written directly to the Queen herself.
This ploy may have worked, as in July the house arrest was ended. Francis continued to help Devereux write to the Queen in a bid to regain her favour, even drafting letters for him to copy. In August, Devereux was freed completely, although he was forbidden to attend Court. While this was an improvement in his situation, he was denied a basic income and he began to despair. By October, Devereux’s frustration was bordering on mad desperation and his behaviour became increasingly erratic. He lost his temper in public and insulted the Queen. The situation reached a point where even Francis was no longer able to help him. Devereux now crossed the line.
In early 1601, Devereux began to fortify his house and on Sunday, 8 February, he rose in rebellion against the Queen, marching into London with a party of noble followers. However, the popular support he had relied on completely failed to materialize and by 10 p.m. the whole affair was over. He was immediately proclaimed a traitor and was imprisoned in the Tower. When the rebels were interrogated, some swiftly turned on him, betraying Devereux’s plans to seize the Queen
, force her to dismiss those Councillors who he claimed were his enemies and make him some kind of Supreme Minister, her only adviser.
On 19 February, Devereux was brought to trial, where his defence was that he had only sought an audience with the Queen and that his enemies were working against him. This time, Francis, who had always stood by him in the past, said that the Earl’s paranoia reminded him of a Greek character who wounded himself and then claimed it had been done by his enemies. When Devereux rejoined that Francis himself had previously sympathized with him, Francis agreed, saying he had ‘spent more time in vain in studying how to make the Earl a good servant to the Queen and state, than he had done in anything else’.19
Francis must have known that Devereux was doomed and had no desire to fall with him, hoping instead to save some shred of credibility with the Queen.The outcome of the trial was a foregone conclusion. Devereux was condemned to death. He was beheaded on Tower Hill on 25 February 1601. Shortly after, in May 1601, Anthony Bacon died, and so Francis lost the two most important people in his life within a few months of each other.
Elizabeth never did shower Francis with the advancements he so badly wanted during her lifetime. When the Queen died in 1603, he hoped for more success under the new King, James I of England. Francis wrote a letter praising the King and hoping he might serve him as he had served his predecessor. Part of the letter reads, ‘… there is no subject of your Majesty’s who loveth this island … whose heart is not set on fire, not only to bring you peace-offerings … but to sacrifice himself a burnt offering to your Majesty’s service …’20 Those who believe that Francis was the son of Elizabeth and Robert Dudley interpret his words as an offer to destroy any pretension to the throne that he might have as the quasi-lawful son of the Queen. In reality, it reads rather more as him offering unqualified service to the King.
Francis did meet the King, but before James could make any moves in his favour or against, Francis was once again arrested for debt. This time his cousin, Robert Cecil, settled the bill and secured his release. He may also have provided him with the funds to purchase a knighthood, as Francis had written to him, ‘I desire … to marry with some convenient advancement … I have found an alderman’s daughter, an handsome maiden, to my liking.’21 The young lady was 11-year-old Alice Barnham, who was an heiress with a dowry of £6,000 in land and £300 a year in income. So Francis and Alice were betrothed, to marry when she came of age, and on 23 July 1603, two days before James I’s coronation, Francis was knighted with 299 other gentlemen who had paid a suitable fee for the honour. The 45-year-old Francis would marry Alice on 10 May 1606 when she was just 14.
In June 1607, Francis was at last rewarded with the post of Solicitor General. Then in 1608, he published a retrospective history of the reign of Elizabeth I, In Felicem Memoriam Elizabethae Reginae Angliae. Those who believe Francis was Elizabeth’s son point to a reference made in the book to Elizabeth being childless, like Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar. However, Alexander had a son, Alexander IV, who was born posthumously, while Caesar had a daughter, Julia, and an illegitimate son by Cleopatra, Ptolomy Caesarian, and was rumoured to be the real father of Marcus Junius Brutus. Given his knowledge of history and the classics, it is unlikely that Francis would have made such a basic mistake and that he was, indeed, suggesting that Elizabeth did have a child – although he did not make any reference to his or her identity.
In August 1610, Francis’s mother, Anne, died. She had shown little affection for her son and towards the end of her life became a fanatical Puritan, obsessed with Catholic plots. In 1589 she had accused her eldest and favourite son, Anthony, of being a traitor, saying that he was plotting to kill her for her money. She believed that Anthony and Francis had Catholic friends who might lead them away from the path of True Religion, so she cursed Anthony and said that she wished he had died before his religious beliefs became corrupted. Anthony, the sweet peacemaker, must have been miserable to see his mother deteriorate to such a degree. For her funeral, Francis arranged for a sermon that she would have approved of, but, as he wrote to his fellow politician Sir Michael Hicks, ‘Feast I make none.’22
In 1613, Francis was appointed the new Attorney General. At last he was in receipt of a respectable salary, which would be augmented by additional fees and bonuses that would finally give him a decent income. In 1616, he took out a lease on a house in London – Canonbury Tower in Islington. The site was likely to appeal historically to Francis; it had been an estate of the medieval Knights of St John of Jerusalem, and then belonged to the Priory of St Bartholomew. At the Dissolution it was given to Thomas Cromwell and then passed through several owners until, at the time Francis took out his lease, it was the property of Henry Howard, 1st Earl of Northampton.
The rooms were decorated with panelling and carving that some have interpreted to support theories that Francis was a Freemason and a Rosicrucian. The first recorded English lodge of the Freemasons fraternal society (possibly descended from the medieval Guilds of Masons) was set up in the mid-1600s. The Rosicrucians were a mystical secret society founded in Germany in the early years of the 1600s whose symbol was a cross with a rose on it, which was also a symbol used by the Freemasons. The evidence presented for these theories is that Francis wrote The New Atlantis, published in 1627, about a utopian country led by an academic, scientific, monastic group called Solomon’s House. As the name of Solomon and the notion of Solomon’s Temple were linked to Freemasons and Rosicrucians, the hypothesis was that Francis was a member of these societies. However, the interpretation of the various carvings in the house may be open to question. Moreover, some of the decorations may have been in the house before Francis arrived, or added after he left (he lived at Canonbury for six years).
The year of 1616 brought long-awaited advancements for Francis, who found James I more appreciative of his talents than Elizabeth had been. He prosecuted the famous trial of the Earl and Countess of Somerset, Robert Carr and Frances Howard, for the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury in the Tower, and won the King’s desired outcome: that the defendants plead guilty so they could be imprisoned and later discreetly released.
Francis also wrote a series of letters to James I’s new favourite, Sir George Villiers, later 1st Duke of Buckingham, advising him of his duties and responsibilities, as well as warning him of potential dangers. An appreciative Villiers supported Francis as a candidate to replace the elderly Lord Ellesmere as Lord Chancellor, and in March, Ellesmere, already ill, decided to retire. Francis made him a single payment of £8,000 and stepped into the position with the agreement of all parties. He was now Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, the post his father, Sir Nicholas, had held. Francis finally held a position that would pay him a generous salary: perhaps £10,000 to 15,000 a year from the pay and perquisites.
Francis continued, for the most part, to stay in the King’s favour, although he almost fell out with him and Villiers over an incident that occurred in 1617. The former Lord Chief Justice Sir Edward Coke, having lost the King’s support, tried to regain it by offering his daughter, Frances, as a wife for Villiers’ dissolute and slow-witted brother. When the young lady and her mother, Lady Hatton, objected, Coke kidnapped his daughter and tried to force her to marry. Francis, who thoroughly disliked Coke, sided with his wife, falling foul of Villiers, who wanted the wealthy heiress for a sister-in-law, as well as the King, who wanted his favoured Villiers to have his way.
Francis immediately backed down and later nobly refrained from gloating when Lady Hatton refused to make her daughter heiress to her fortune, thereby not benefiting the Villiers family as they had hoped, and Frances herself promptly left her husband and ran off with another man. Despite this, Francis was made Lord Chancellor in early 1618, and in May was created Baron Verulam.
Throughout this time, Francis continued writing essays, publishing Novum Organum in 1620, his textbook on the application of ‘a new logic, teaching to invent and judge by deduction’.23 He believed that Man could not move forward a
s long as he based his reasoning exclusively on his own prejudices, common folklore and previous knowledge. Starting from the beginning, everything should be re-examined and tested. His status as a philosopher and thinker was much admired by his contemporaries. The poet George Herbert in his poem ‘The Temple’, called Francis ‘Truth’s High Priest’, ‘Liberator of Science’, and ‘Master of what’s real’.24
At Court, Francis advised, but stepped back when it seemed politic to do so. In February 1621, he received another sign of the King’s favour when he was created Viscount St Albans. However, his successes would be transformed to public disgrace a month later when a series of claims were made in Parliament that Francis had taken bribes. Since the salaries of public officials were low, it was not uncommon for them to embellish their income by taking fees and favours; it was quite in order to accept a ‘gift’ from a successful applicant after the fact. It was not, however, acceptable to receive a gift before a judgement, which was what Francis was accused of by two clients who had subsequently lost their cases.
Francis could not deny that irregularities had taken place. He appealed to the King in the hope he would save him, but James I was already facing opposition to favours he had issued to benefit Villiers. On the King’s instruction, Francis surrendered the Great Seal and sent a letter of submission acknowledging the charges to the House of Lords. He confessed to corruption, responding to each of the 26 charges to indicate that most of them related to misunderstandings (for example, a gift had arrived on 1 January and had been recorded as a New Year present, not a gift relating to a case) or gifts given after a case had been decided. He was therefore confessing to a series of clerical errors, but not to actual bribery.
The Lords, some of whom held grudges against him, sentenced him to a fine of £40,000, imprisonment in the Tower at the King’s pleasure, disqualification from any state post, from standing as a Member of Parliament, and from coming to the Royal Court. He was briefly imprisoned in the Tower and then returned to his childhood home. He was not to stay there for long; Villiers let it be known that he wanted York House, and Francis’s pardon was delayed until he agreed to sell. Francis retired to Gorhambury.