Tobie would be forty in October. His friend and mentor was fifty-seven. One wonders how changed in appearance, and perhaps in manners, they seemed to each other after ten years of separation. Francis had undoubtedly aged: greying hair, furrows running from nose to mouth, and a suspicion of bags beneath the eyes suggested a man in his mid-sixties. Too much working at all hours of the day and night had taken their toll. The humour still lurked, though, in the corner of the eyes, the hint of mockery.
The only description we have of Tobie is contained in a postscript from Charles Prince of Wales to his father the King in 1623, where he mentions ‘little pretty Tobie Matthew’. Fair of face and small of stature. Yet a man of the world, who in his ten years’ absence from England had travelled extensively, chiefly in Italy and Spain, and had formed a wide circle of friends in Madrid, probably owing to his Catholic faith. His father the Archbishop of York had not yet forgiven him for changing his religion, and, in hopes that his eldest son would be converted back to the Church of England, had urged his return home. It was the Earl of Buckingham who had persuaded his Majesty to relent, and it was assumed that Tobie would now conform and in due course take the oath of allegiance.
These matters were inevitably discussed at Gorhambury, and Tobie was hoping that the influence of the Lord Keeper would stand him in good stead. When he had left England in 1607 Francis had not yet been appointed Solicitor-General; now he held one of the most important posts in the kingdom. The retinue of servants and attendants had doubled, trebled; the rooms at Gorhambury no longer held them all, there was talk of building another house in the grounds for the personal use of the master, and the grounds themselves, walks, gardens, woods, had altered beyond recognition. And in a few weeks’ time, when the Lord Keeper returned to London, York House would be ready for him, with new furnishings, new appointments, and a further retinue of servants.
Tobie Matthew was impressed. His dear friend had certainly advanced since the early days when Tobie had been a young law student at Gray’s Inn and Francis a barrister with few briefs. It was unfortunate therefore that, just as he had returned from abroad, the Lord Keeper should have found himself involved in this marriage dispute between Sir Edward Coke and his wife Lady Hatton, and have fallen out with the Secretary of State Sir Ralph Winwood in consequence. It might have ill effects upon his friend’s relationship not only with the Earl of Buckingham but with his Majesty himself.
For of course, once the first delight at meeting had subsided, the renewing of their friendship, the discussion of old times, and Tobie had unburdened himself of all he had to say about life in Europe, the talk eventually came round to what had just taken place at the Council table; the rumour of dissension and trouble had greeted Tobie when he arrived in London. It was the talk of the town. And he could tell, from the Lord Keeper’s preoccupation, although he made light of it, that he was seriously disturbed. It was, in fact, now two weeks since Francis had written to the Earl of Buckingham, giving his reasons for opposing the marriage of Sir John Villiers to Frances Coke, and he had received no reply. He had not expected one for five or six days, but a fortnight was excessive. He must write again, and compose a letter to his Majesty at the same time, repeating much the same arguments he had used to the earl, so that there should be no misunderstanding. It was intolerable that the Secretary of State should profess to know the King’s mind upon the infernal marriage question, while he, the Lord Keeper, had not been kept informed. Something was amiss somewhere.
Francis wrote, therefore, at some length on July 25th, particularly asking that his Majesty should let him know his own wishes regarding the match, rather than that he, the Lord Keeper, should receive them through a third party. He added, ‘Though I will not wager upon women’s minds, I can prevail more with the mother than any other man’, which suggested that should the King be strongly in favour of the marriage, then the Lord Keeper would trim his sails accordingly and endeavour to persuade Lady Hatton that she must withdraw her objections. He wrote to the Earl of Buckingham on the same day, saying, ‘I do think long to hear from your Lordship touching my last letter, wherein I gave my opinion touching your brother’s match.’ The delay, he reassured himself, had come about by the King travelling south from Scotland, and the earl with him; they must by now have reached Carlisle.
Then, in early August, the long-awaited reply came from the Earl of Buckingham, written in a very different tone from any of those Francis had received before.
‘To the Lord Keeper Bacon.
‘My Lord,
‘If your man had been addressed only to me, I should have been careful to have procured him a more speedy dispatch: but now you have found another way of address, I am excused; and since you are grown weary of employing me, I can be no otherwise in being employed. In this business of my brother’s that you overtrouble yourself with, I understand from London by some of my friends that you have carried yourself with much scorn and neglect both towards myself and my friends; which if it prove true I blame not you but myself, who was ever
‘Your Lordship’s assured friend,
‘G. Buckingham.’
A cold rebuke, and no mistake about it. The favourite was deeply offended, apparently on two counts: that the Lord Keeper had written direct to the King in the matter, and—which of course was hearsay and malicious gossip—that he had spoken scornfully of the earl himself.
The shock Francis received on reading this letter was considerable. He needed all the comfort Tobie Matthew was able to offer. But worse was to follow. A letter arrived from his Majesty himself, also blaming the Lord Keeper for interference. Unfortunately this letter can no longer be traced, but Francis replied to it about August 12th, and from the tenor of his reply it would seem that the King had not only upbraided him for going against his wishes by opposing the marriage but had accused him of criticising the Earl of Buckingham. Sir Ralph Winwood had obviously given his own version of how events had gone at the Council table in July, and since he was a friend of Sir Edward Coke and of Sir John Villiers’s mother Lady Compton, it is not difficult to see how both the King and Buckingham had been prejudiced against the Lord Keeper.
One thing strikes the observer today, which is that Francis Bacon, despite his vast retinue, had a poor system of intelligence. His brother Anthony, had he found himself in similar circumstances, would have had secret agents following the King’s train and reporting back almost daily. It is almost as though Francis had too great a faith in his own judgement; yet his own vast experience should have warned him that during their absence his Majesty and Buckingham would come under other influences beside his, and that the favourite, despite his previous amiability, was now fully conscious of his own power and had begun to resent advice from any quarter. One wonders, furthermore, who was the attendant ‘your man’ who had carried the Lord Keeper’s letters north. It was not Edward Sherburn, because Chamberlain mentions seeing him in town around this time, and he was known to have been down at Gorhambury. In 1618, a year later, we have a list of all the attendants, some seventy-five of them, but this does not help us in July-August of 1617.
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 Majesty 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.