Disgrace And Favour

by Jeremy Potter

  ‘That was after the failure of her witchcraft,’ he said. ‘She paid a magician to make a wax image of me and stick pins in its privy member.’ His hand closed on his codpiece for reassurance.

  The house belonged to the Earl of Southampton, the closest ally of Essex’s father in his failure to seize power. Southampton had been imprisoned in the Tower by Elizabeth and released by James. With him now were the Earl of Pembroke and his younger brother, the Earl of Montgomery, a discarded favourite of James. All had been followers of Prince Henry: Southampton his carver, Pembroke his server and Montgomery his cupbearer. They greeted Essex like a son.

  Carey stood aside, reflecting that he alone among the five of them did not bear the honour of an earldom. His own and his family’s services to the Crown had been at least as great: more loyal indeed, but less regarded. Owing to the meanness of the old Queen, the much-coveted prize had eluded Lord Hunsdon his father, and even the family barony, held by brother George until his death and now by the milksop John, would never reach down to the youngest son. Ever since his accession to England, James had showered titles like rain from heaven, but only on those able to pay the price in hard cash. Under a Scottish king money, not merit, was the measure of man. Moneyless and landless, Carey despaired of achieving the earldom denied to his father.

  Before long the four earls themselves were outranked. Archbishop Abbot arrived from Lambeth. He came in his customary manner - not furtively, but without ceremony. Carey knelt and kissed his ring. In the Archbishop shone the beacon of the Protestant faith. Gentle in speech but unyielding in principle, he was incorruptible in a corrupt world. He had steadfastly opposed the match between Prince Henry and the Spanish Infanta. He had wept from the heart at the Prince’s death bed, and in the Abbey while conducting his funeral service. He had married the Lady Elizabeth to the Protestant Elector with open joy. Erstwhile master of an Oxford college and three times the university’s vice-chancellor, when his mind could be brought to bear on transitory matters few could out-argue him.

  After the Archbishop came the elderly Lord Chancellor Ellesmere, who as a young man had won Elizabeth’s confidence more than thirty years before. Excelling in law, politics and courtcraft alike, he had climbed the ladder of legal appointments from Solicitor General to Attorney General, to Lord Keeper and Master of the Rolls. James had chosen him to be his Lord Chancellor on Cecil’s advice. So long as he remained alive, not even the Howards could afford to ignore the rule of law. His arrival signalled a full meeting of the opposition and filled Carey with renewed hope. Only Overbury was missing.

  He came late, not troubling himself to offer any apology to the distinguished company. When his eyes fell on Essex he frowned and declared that he had understood the meeting to be private.

  ‘Peace, Sir Thomas,’ said the Archbishop. ‘My lord’s Countess is the subject of our discussion, and I have news which touches him closely.’

  ‘I cannot speak of Lady Essex in her husband’s presence.’

  ‘You may say what you please,’ the Earl told him. ‘Your words to Viscount Rochester have been reported to me, so there is little to hide. You have called her a base and filthy woman, and I for one do not dissent.’

  ‘That is in truth her nature, yet - would any man outside Bedlam believe it? - Rochester means to marry her. I have warned him against throwing himself into the arms of a woman who will ruin him. I have told him that he will be delivering himself into the hands of her family. I have threatened to leave him and let him stand on his own legs. He answers that they are strong enough to bear him, but what will he be without me? Nothing more than a gilded puppet to be manipulated by Northampton. It passes understanding that he is too stupid to discern his own interest.’

  ‘I would believe anything of a man who will not meet a challenge with pistol or sword,’ said Essex.

  Overbury glared at him, as though indignant at the abuse of a friend he felt entitled to abuse himself. ‘Now, Sir Robert,’ he demanded of Carey, ‘if we are to proceed, will you be so kind as to ask your friend to leave us. My invitation to you did not extend to others.’

  Carey stared at him in amazement, asking himself whether there were no bounds to Overbury’s high-handedness. This favourite of a favourite was offensive to the King, had insulted the Queen and had expressed himself implacably opposed to the Howards. Not content with that, he had quarrelled openly with the favourite himself, his one source of power, and was speaking contemptuously of him in public. Now he had rounded on Essex, whose support he would need to avert the catastrophe of the divorce. In his carelessness of whom he offended, he seemed bent on alienating the rest of the company too. He had quarrelled with Pembroke before and had slighted Montgomery at court. Firmly Carey took him by the arm and, begging that the two of them be excused, led him into the next chamber.

  There Overbury shook himself free. They stood awkwardly face to face. He had aged in the years since they had travelled south together, when Carey had refused his patronage. His hair had retreated, his brow become furrowed with care. Past thirty now, he could have been ten years older.

  ‘You have climbed high since we first met,’ Carey complimented him, dropping his gaze. ‘My rejection served you well. You would have fared worse at the heels of an outcast like myself.’

  ‘I have often thanked God for it. It gave me the determination to rely on no man but myself.’

  ‘But you have used Robert Carr as you would have used me.’

  ‘You are mistaken. It is he who is dependent upon me. I am the prop, not my addle-pated lord of Rochester. Without me he will be lost.’

  ‘And you without him? Is the dependence not common between you?’

  ‘Listen to me,’ said Overbury. ‘When his Robin goes over to the Howards, the King must employ another to safeguard his own interests. Who can that be but myself? Ever since we parted I have moved towards this goal. I learned the law at Oxford and the Middle Temple. I travelled in France and studied the ways of the world, then I took employment in the office of Mr Secretary Cecil and tutored myself in goverment. Since Cecil’s death no man is better qualified: I have become indispensable and only Carr has stood between me and high office. Now the King will appoint me his Secretary of State. Why else has the post been kept vacant these long months?’

  Carey shook his head. ‘The King will do no such thing unless you make yourself agreeable to him.’

  ‘Once he rewards me with office he will find me agreeable. Meanwhile to be pleasant is to be of no account. Behave well and you are overlooked: give pain and you must receive attention and be soothed. You knew that once, Sir Robert. You did not shirk from antagonizing the Council when the old Queen died, but you were disappointed then. Apart from your one bold deed in defending Prince Henry’s honour against this woman, you have given no offence since, and what has been your reward? Beg now to be taken into my service and show me that you have not given up the struggle. Then I will see to your advancement - for the sake of old acquaintance and for what you once were.’

  Carey’s struggle was between anger, amazement and admiration. ‘Let me serve you first with advice,’ he replied. ‘Look to your own advancement before you look to mine. A man cannot jump except from firm ground. Without Carr you are standing on nothing; so far from rising, you must fall.’

  ‘Your counsel is timid and false,’ said Overbury. ‘You are forgetting the King.’

  Carey shook his head again. ‘That is shifting ground and you will misplace your confidence if you seek to build on it. I speak from experience. Not for one day do I forget the King, it is the King who forgets me. When I put my trust in him, only my wife saved me from downfall. You, Thomas, have no wife but Carr.’

  ‘There is God,’ said Overbury. ‘I believe in His help and guidance.’

  They continued to argue until a servant was sent to inquire whether they were not yet ready to return. By that time Carey’s anger had died and he felt a reluctant respect for the young man’s courage. Overbury was clever, too
, without a doubt, and despite his arrogance and ambition he had principles, and Protestant principles at that. Before they returned Overbury agreed, in the common cause, not to pursue his objection to Essex’s attendance.

  But when they rejoined the company, Essex had already gone. According to Southampton he had departed in severe displeasure. Overbury affected indifference and assured them he could frustrate the divorce without the husband’s aid. They would now be free to discuss more important and confidential matters.

  ‘The commission is not yet decided upon,’ he announced. ‘I will exercise all my persuasion on Carr in the morning. If that fails, I have another plan.’

  ‘It would be easiest if we could find him another woman,’ said Pembroke.

  ‘His infatuation is too violent,’ Overbury replied. ‘She mounts ever higher on the wings of lust.’

  ‘There is no other woman who unites such beauty with such lewdness,’ said Montgomery. ‘He cannot be rescued.’

  ‘Enough of shamelessness. I have later news of the commission than Sir Thomas,’ said the Archbishop. ‘It will be formally constituted tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Then we must ensure the verdict,’ said Southampton. ‘It cannot be that the King truly wishes for a divorce. It would be a blow to his own majesty. He arranged the marriage in person.’

  ‘Who better to arrange its dissolution then?’ demanded Montgomery. ‘What the King has given, can the King not take away?’

  ‘Essex and Frances Howard were joined by God,’ said Overbury, ‘and the union is indissoluble in law.’

  ‘Not in his Majesty’s opinion,’ declared the Lord Chancellor. ‘The King argues for a nullity on the grounds that the marriage has never been consummated. That would remove any legal impediment. As for God’s will, your Grace has no doubt debated the point with his Majesty.’

  The Archbishop uttered a small sigh. Carey knew how the King liked nothing better than a disputation with the head of his Church. For hours they would fire Biblical texts at each other, and invariably the Archbishop would be forced to concede defeat. He had been heard to complain that James’s learned references to the scriptures came as thick as a plague of locusts. In pedantry the King stood invincible, justifying by the word of God whatever course of action he wished to pursue. Over his monarch’s self-interest even the Archbishop’s learning and piety could not prevail.

  ‘Without consummation the union is incomplete,’ he declared. ‘That much is beyond dispute. What we have to determine is no more than a single fact: whether or not the Earl and his Countess have in truth been joined as man and wife.’

  ‘Can the King indeed desire his favourite to marry?’ asked the Lord Chancellor. ‘When I observe them together I cannot believe it. In my youth a royal favourite who married was disgraced.’

  ‘Customs change with the crown, my lord,’ said Carey, recollecting with a tremor the furious spite of the old Queen’s jealousy.

  Montgomery, a former favourite, smiled slyly. ‘If I know aught of the King,’ he said, ‘it will tickle his fancy to preside at the ceremony and give away the bridegroom. He will be fore most in bedding the couple and visiting them in the morning to demand a full account of the night’s exploits. Our Jamie has an inquiring mind. We are blessed with a prurient sovereign. None will follow the proceedings of the commission with closer attention. The commissioners will be instructed and bullied without mercy. Do I understand that your Grace is to be appointed?’

  ‘Contrary to my most fervently expressed desire.’ The Archbishop permitted himself a shudder.

  ‘If a commission there must be,’ said Overbury, ‘we should give thanks to God that your Grace is to lead it. But who are to be the other members?’

  In all there were to be ten - four bishops, four lawyers and two members of the Council. As the Archbishop named them, their loyalties were gauged. Among the clergy, the Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry was pronounced a Howard adherent beyond reclaim, while the Bishop of London was hailed as one who could be relied upon to stand firm in defiance of the royal will. When the colour of every name had been judged, there was relief that the King had not dared to pack the commission with too many lackeys of the Howards. It would be a close-run thing, but the opposition cause was not yet lost. Although humiliated by his marriage becoming a subject of public ridicule, if he persisted in contesting the charge of impotency the young Essex could still win the verdict, and the dark alliance between the Howards and Carr would be frustrated.

  The meeting became more cheerful. ‘Unless Carr accepts my advice and spurns the adulteress,’ boasted Overbury, ‘this will be his downfall.’ He spoke with relish.

  ‘Yet if Carr and the King are still intimate,’ Carey repeated his warning, ‘the downfall could be your own, whatever the outcome. Neither will thank you for your part in frustrating the divorce. Should it come to pass, your friend’s affections will be shared between the King and Frances Howard, no longer between the King and yourself.’

  Overbury flushed. ‘I have had enough of your prophecies of woe,’ he said. ‘Carr is weak in my hands, and the King in his.’

  The Archbishop and the Lord Chancellor exchanged glances. The Archbishop cleared his throat.

  ‘There is another matter, Sir Thomas. Lord Ellesmere and I were this afternoon deputed by his Majesty to do you the honour of offering you an embassy abroad.’

  ‘The honour of banishment,’ Overbury sneered. ‘If the offer be seriously intended, why has Carr not talked to me of it?’

  ‘The King informed us that he did not wish Carr to learn of it before your acceptance.’

  ‘That he shall never have. It is a plot by Northampton and Suffolk to remove me.’

  ‘Consider the proposal more coolly, I beg you. An offer from your sovereign is a command.’

  ‘Where would he send me?’

  ‘There was mention of Russia,’ said the Archbishop.

  ‘I am surprised that your Grace should consent to deliver such a message.’

  ‘Also, as I recall, France or the Low Countries,’ added the Lord Chancellor. ‘Your preference would be given favourable consideration.’

  ‘Even if it were Scotland I should not go. Carr cannot be a party to this. He will dissuade the King from pressing the matter.’

  ‘Place no reliance on Carr’s innocence,’ Carey advised him. ‘Your friend comes of treacherous stock. I learned as much to my cost on the Border.’

  ‘You are jealous of his power,’ replied Overbury, ‘just as you are jealous of mine. And not you alone, Sir Robert. All of you. Does any man of you intend to oppose the King in his desire to be rid of me? Did you dare to protest to him, my lord Archbishop, when he proposed my exile? Did you make so bold as to defend my record of service to the Crown and country, my Lord Chancellor? Well, my lords, have I friends among you or have I not?’

  He challenged them one by one, proud to stand alone against them, reckless of their regard for him.

  ‘Our party would be the weaker without you,’ said Southampton. ‘I for one would not wish you away.’ His tone tinged the words with disdain.

  ‘Nor I,’ added the Archbishop more kindly, ‘but the King’s mood was black. He is obstinate and it will not be wise to cross him. You should accept the post: then we will contrive a delay in your departure while his Majesty is prevailed upon to change his mind. If he will not, you may rest assured that we will work for your swift return.’

  ‘My absence from court would be disgrace akin to death,’ said Overbury. ‘No less is intended. There can be no embassy worthy of me waiting to be undertaken, otherwise how could there be a choice of destination? In my own interest I shall refuse to go. If Sir Robert remembers his own exile, he will support me. He at least was banished within the realm. Without me the Howards will govern England and they will take good care that I am never permitted to return.’

  Further argument would not sway him and the company parted in disarray. Taking pity on his friendlessness, Carey chose to travel back to Whiteh
all in Overbury’s boat. Inside the politician lived a poet: Sir Thomas had written verse of some merit, but rarely acknowledged it in speech. He was tender beneath the crust. Once the heat of the quarrel cooled he became tearful, overwhelmed not so much by the prospect of exile as by the possibility of betrayal by Carr.

  ‘I have loved no one else,’ he confided, ‘from the very moment when Robin and I first met as boys at his cousin’s house outside Jedburgh. The King corrupts his love with grants of titles and estates, but mine is pure. How can he leave me for a Howard whore?’

  Carey offered what comfort he could, although in his eyes the beautiful Robin Carr was as worthless as a royal mistress. Overbury’s passion was not to be soothed or restrained. While they were being rowed up the river, he grew more and more agitated and the moon lit his face with the pallor of death.

  ‘If he has turned traitor on me,’ he whispered above the lap of the oars, ‘you must promise me to bring him down.’

  ‘No man can do that,’ Carey replied, ‘so long as he retains the King’s affection.’

  ‘Robin is past twenty-five. He can be supplanted. The King is approaching fifty. The older a man grows, the younger the lover he seeks. Find the prettiest boy in the kingdom, dress him in finery and let him fall at the King’s feet. If he falls from a horse and breaks his leg, as Robin did, so much the better.’

  At the Watergate of the palace Overbury recovered himself and hurried away, erect and purposeful, his eyes dried, leaving Carey to speculate on the lovers’ meeting. Would they fall into each other’s arms or tear each other’s hair? Carey walked through the park to St James’s, where Prince Charles had supplanted Prince Henry. His mind weighed every eventuality except the correct one, for Carr and Overbury were never to meet again.