Elizabeth

by Philippa Jones

  Francis would have spent part of his childhood at York House, as well as at Gorhambury, where he may have attended the local grammar school at St Albans. He was an academically precocious child and was mainly schooled at home by different tutors. At the age of 12, he went to study at Cambridge with his brother Anthony, then aged 14. They went to Trinity College, where Francis, little more than a child, appears to have spoken out on various subjects, as he later wrote his opinion of the university: ‘For the studies of men in these places are so confined and as it were imprisoned in the writings of certain authors, from whom if any man dissent he is straightway arraigned as a turbulent person and an innovator.’1

  In 1576, Francis was placed in the care of Sir Amyas Paulet, the English Ambassador to France, so he could travel to Europe to extend his education. A French author, Pierre Amboise, wrote a biography of Francis, published in 1631, saying of his time abroad:

  … Mr Bacon … spent several years of his youth in travels, to polish his wit and form his judgement, by reference to the practice of foreigners. France, Italy and Spain, being the countries of highest civilisation, were those to which this curiosity drew him. As he saw himself destined to hold in his hands one day the helm of the Kingdom, he did not look only at the scenery, and the clothes of the different peoples … but took note of the different types of government, the advantages and the faults of each, and of all things the understanding of which should fit a man to govern.2

  Since both his father and his uncle, William Cecil, held posts of national importance, at the age of 15, Francis could have, with great reason, imagined himself in a similar position one day.

  The travels, however, came to an end when Francis received word that his father, Sir Nicholas, had died on 20 February 1579. He immediately left France for England, but found that his father had already been buried in St Paul’s Cathedral. Sir Nicholas’s will was not kind to his youngest son: all his bequests went to his wife and to his other children. It has been suggested that Sir Nicholas was planning to make some other provision for Francis and that he died before he could do so. It has also been suggested that, if Francis was not his son, he had left his real parents to provide for the young man.

  The first suggestion is possible; the second is almost certainly unlikely. A monarch would usually provide for an illegitimate child, in which case Sir Nicholas would have received additional grants of estates for the sole purpose of endowing them on the child, rather than leaving him penniless and drawing attention to his plight. A third possibility is that Sir Nicholas left nothing to Francis because he was hopeless with money. In later years, Francis would have serious problems with debt.

  In lieu of a generous inheritance, in 1579, Francis entered Gray’s Inn, aged 18. Within a year, he wrote to his uncle, William Cecil, asking him to petition the Queen for an unnamed post. He emphasized his seriousness in his law studies and reminded Cecil that he had not been ‘well left or befriended’. A second letter, written a month later, thanked Cecil in advance; he hoped to serve the Queen as his father had done, and was grateful for his uncle’s support.

  However, as it turned out, the post never materialized. Perhaps Cecil never used his influence to help his nephew, possibly because he viewed this brilliant young man as a potential rival to his own son, Robert Cecil; thus he could have deliberately suppressed Francis’s attempts to advance himself in the royal service. Equally, Cecil may have been wary of the self-importance of the young man, who seemed convinced of his intellectual superiority. Such a man could be dangerous if he achieved a significant role in the political arena before he had gained some real experience of the workings of the Court. Possibly with this in mind, Cecil would later recommend Francis to the voters of Melcome Regis in Dorset, which town would duly return Francis as their Member of Parliament in 1584. A stint in Parliament would give Francis relevant experience and allow him to make his reputation with speeches and presentations.

  In the meantime, Francis took up residence at Twickenham Park in 1580, in a house near Richmond Palace that belonged to his half-brother, Edward. Francis’s brother, Anthony, who had been travelling in Europe supplying intelligence for the Privy Council, sent Francis a number of books and manuscripts that would support his literary work. In 1581, he helped Francis arrange a tour of France, Spain, Italy, Germany and Denmark to widen his knowledge. The tour lasted about a year and Francis returned home, having enjoyed the company of intellectuals all over Europe.

  At this time, Francis was already pouring his energies into writing essays and books. He planned a series of four essays, of which at least two – ‘In praise of Knowledge’ and ‘In praise of his Sovereign’ – were published.3 Francis was also interested in codes and ciphers (possibly because of his brother’s work for the Privy Council), an interest that has led some researchers into his works to see each document as a minefield of codes, turning the simplest text into something wildly different.

  In 1584, when Francis became a Member of Parliament, it was a period during which a number of Catholic plots to kill Elizabeth were being exposed. In November of that year, a Bill was presented to exclude from the succession to the throne anyone who was found to have been involved in a plot against Elizabeth, prompted mainly by Mary, Queen of Scots’ actions. In February 1585, the MP William Parry was found guilty of taking part in such a plot, and was executed.

  Francis wrote a lengthy report on the situation to the Queen, suggesting that more might be achieved if penalties against Catholics were relaxed, thus removing some of the cause of their discontent and the temptation to join in with any treasonable plots. He also reasoned that although Scotland and France were troublesome, the real enemy at that time was Spain. In 1589, he penned ‘An Advertisement Touching the Controversy of the Church of England’. Neither seemed to gain the Queen’s attention. This perhaps seems odd; even if Francis was the Queen’s child and she remained reticent about drawing unwarranted attention to that fact, she could, at this time, have advanced him to a generous post on his obvious merits alone. The fact that she did not may suggest that she felt no particular special bond to this talented gentleman.

  He wrote to Cecil in 1591 to lament the ‘meanness of his estate’ and felt he was wasting his time when he might be employed by the Crown in some significant post: ‘… I wax now somewhat ancient; one and thirty years is a great deal of sand in the hour-glass … I ever bear a mind, in some middle place that I could discharge, to serve her Majesty; not as a man born under Sol, that loveth honour; nor under Jupiter, that loveth business, for the contemplative planet carrieth me away wholly; but as a man born under an excellent Sovereign, that deserveth the dedication of all men’s abilities …’4

  In 1592, Francis’s brother Anthony returned from a spying mission in France after his arrest at Montaubon on a charge of sodomy. Henri de Navarre, a personal friend, had interceded to get him released, and Anthony joined Francis in his lodgings in Gray’s Inn. They worked and wrote together, while Francis waited for his political career to take off.

  In February 1593, however, Francis made a serious error. Having endeavoured so hard to find favour with the Queen, he managed to offend her in a Parliamentary session. The members had been assembled to vote on a subsidy for the Defence of the Realm, and Cecil asked for an unprecedented triple subsidy. His son, Robert, made the request to the Commons to set the amount of the subsidy, which would then be ratified by the Lords.

  Francis stood up and spoke. Cecil, he said, spoke on behalf of the Lords, but it was up to the Commons to set the amount of a subsidy. A vote was held and by 227 votes to 128 it was decided that the representatives of the Lords should withdraw and leave the matter to the Commons. That being done, according to the Parliamentary records:

  Mr Francis Bacon assented to three subsidies, but not the payment under six years; and to this propounded three reasons, which he desired might be answered. 1. Impossibility or difficulty. 2. Danger and discontent. 3. A better manner of supply than subsidy. For impossibility, the
poor man’s rent is such they are not able to pay so much upon the present. The gentlemen must sell their plate and the farmers their brass pots ere this will be paid …5

  In the end, the Queen got her triple subsidy, but it was to be paid over six years, instead of the four she had originally wanted. Elizabeth was not amused.

  Why Francis did this is a mystery. Perhaps he was genuinely concerned about the rights of the Commons being eroded by the Lords, as well as the burden on taxpayers. Another reason might be that, since the Queen had failed to reward him with a Court appointment he felt he had nothing to lose. On the other hand, he might have wanted to harass the Cecils, who he believed had failed to support him in his ambitions for a successful career in royal service. Or perhaps he simply imagined that his principled stand would make an impression on those who exerted influence at Court or would impress other MPs and set the foundation of a political power base.

  The result of his actions was an immediate reprimand from William Cecil, leading Francis to write to him that he was sorry to find that his last speech in Parliament ‘… delivered in discharge of my conscience and duty to God and her Majesty and my country was offensive. If it were misconstrued, I would be glad to expound my words, to exclude any sense I meant not …’6

  Francis insisted that he had spoken as a matter of conscience, believing the tax would be unfair on the poor and had expected no profit from his actions. He was faithful to the Queen, he continued, and desired only to serve her. He begged Cecil to allow him to continue in his own good opinion ‘… and then to perform the part of an honest friend towards your poor servant and ally, in drawing your Majesty to accept of the sincerity and simplicity of my heart, and to bear with the rest, and restore me to her Majesty’s favour.’7

  The Queen made a good friend, but a bad enemy, and she saw Francis’s intervention as an act of disloyalty. In 1593, the post of Attorney General fell vacant. Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex, who was friendly with the Bacon brothers, immediately recommended Francis for the post. His legal background made him an ideal candidate, and Devereux, who at the time was a firmly established favourite with Elizabeth, believed his wish would be the Queen’s command.

  However, there was another candidate in the running, Edward Coke, who was already Solicitor General and nine years older than Francis. He was an experienced practitioner in the Law Courts, whereas Francis was more interested in the theoretical side of law. Francis, realizing that he needed to placate the Queen, wrote to her that he was aware that his ‘Majesty had taken some displeasure towards me’ and ‘I most humbly crave pardon of my boldness and plainness.’8 As an apology, it left something to be desired. There was no sense of supplication, rather a justification of his having spoken his own mind.

  It ended up being too little, too late. Even though Francis was allowed to attend the Court once more and Devereux reported that although Her Majesty had brought up Francis’s subsidy speech again she seemed to have forgiven him, New Year came and went and the post of Attorney General remained vacant.

  In March, the Queen made her decision – the new Attorney General was to be Edward Coke. This left his former post of Solicitor General vacant when he moved up, and both Devereux and Cecil recommended Francis for it. Devereux wrote to Francis, ‘I find the Queen very reserved, staying herself from giving any kind of hope, yet not passionate against you till I grew passionate for you. Then she said that none thought you fit for the place but my Lord Treasurer [Cecil] and myself.’9 Francis was disappointed and bitter. He felt he had been led to an ‘exquisite disgrace’. He would, he said, give up the Court, retire to Cambridge and return to his academic studies.

  Matters were exacerbated by Francis’s financial situation, which was dire. Anthony, his brother, had written to their mother asking if she would help pay Francis’s debts. She had replied that although she loved him, she felt that he could not be trusted to manage his money and that he chose his friends unwisely as they exploited his largesse.10 She would consider helping Francis if he were to give a full account of his debts and hand over control of his estates and finances to her to sort out on his behalf. Francis refused and, in the end, it was left to Anthony to raise the money to settle his debts. Between September 1593 and April 1594, Francis borrowed £358 from Anthony, who had to mortgage his estate to raise the money.

  The post of Solicitor General remained unfilled. In 1594, a plot was discovered, supposedly to poison the Queen, but perhaps, in fact, to poison Don Antonio, a pretender to the throne of Portugal. The plotters, including the Queen’s physician, Dr Lopez, were found guilty and executed. One of those most closely involved in the investigation of the charges was Devereux, with Francis as one of his chief assistants.

  In the summer, a second plot was discovered and again Devereux and Francis were involved in the investigation and questioning of suspects. The Queen knew of their involvement and one of her favoured administrators, Sir Fulke Greville, told Francis that the Queen had spoken ‘with very exceeding gracious inclination towards you … So I will lay £100 to £50 that you shall be her Solicitor …’11

  Desperate now to catch the Queen’s attention, Francis wrote a memorandum on methods for ensuring her safety in light of the recent plots. In August the investigation was halted when the suspects started to confess, but as the role of Solicitor General was still vacant, no trial could be held. Francis’s mother actually met with Robert Cecil to ask if the post could be given to her son. Robert’s reply was to remind her that the Queen often prevaricated; they would just have to wait.

  Francis began to believe that he was the victim of a conspiracy to deny him advancement. He wrote a letter to Cecil in which he stated that he had received information from a friend who personally had nothing against the Cecils, that:

  … from your servants, from your Lady, from some counsellors that hath served you in my business, he knew you wrought underhand against me … as I reject this report, though the strangeness of my case might make me credulous, so I admit a conceit that the last messenger my Lord and yourself used dealt ill with your Honours … for I am not ignorant of those little arts. Therefore I pray, trust not him again in my matter. 12

  Francis’s letter managed to accuse Cecil of working against him, while insisting he gave such rumours no credence. In terms of his Court ambitions, he told Fulke Greville that he felt like ‘… a child following a bird, who when he is nearest flieth away and lighteth a little before, and then the child after it again, and so on ad infinitum …’13

  In October 1595, the new Solicitor General was appointed – not Francis but Sergeant-at-Law Fleming, soon to be Sir Thomas Fleming. An experienced and much admired lawyer, Fleming already had some influence at Court since his wife’s father, Dr Mark James, was the Queen’s personal physician. Fleming was later confirmed in his post in 1603 by Elizabeth’s successor, James I, and was knighted a year later. He would go on to become Lord Chief Justice of England in 1607.

  At the time, Francis must have been devastated. Devereux, on the other hand, was furious. Years later when Francis wrote his recollection of the events, he recalled Devereux’s response: ‘Master Bacon, the Queen hath denied me yon place for you … you fare ill because you have chosen me for your mean and dependence; you have spent your time and thoughts in my matters; I die (these were his very words) if I do not somewhat towards your fortune; you shall not deny to accept a piece of land which I will bestow upon you.’14

  After some persuasion, Francis agreed to accept the gift, telling Devereux that he would be faithful to him all his life in acknowledgement of what he owed him, and, should he ever become rich, he would give the equal value of this gift to one of Devereux’s supporters who was likewise in need. He would be his ‘homager’, his liegeman, in return for the £1,000 that he was able to sell the land for.

  In the same year, Anthony Bacon left his brother’s lodgings in Gray’s Inn and moved into Essex House, the home and base of Devereux, who by this time was building up a powerful group of
nobles and was starting to disobey the Queen. Anthony acted as Devereux’s secretary and ran his personal intelligence service, using his European experience and contacts to help him. He translated foreign communications, surveyed maps and invented and broke codes. Essex House also became a centre for Devereux’s literary friends, who included Francis Bacon. Under Devereux’s patronage, many talented poets, scholars, writers and artists of the time were given a place to meet, work and exchange ideas.

  As the century came to a close, Devereux was heading slowly and inexorably towards disaster, though. In 1596, intelligence reported a Spanish fleet, a second Armada, massing at Cadiz. Sir Francis Drake had died at Porto Bello in the Caribbean and the fleet was now led by Lord Howard of Effingham (Charles Howard, 1st Earl of Nottingham). Devereux, Sir Thomas Howard and Sir Walter Raleigh served under him. The force succeeded beyond even its own wildest dreams, successfully taking Cadiz in the process. The Queen’s orders had been that they should destroy the fleet and return home since she had no need of a conquered Spanish city to garrison, provision and defend. While her officers agreed with her orders, Devereux protested, to no avail, and as they headed back to England, his suggestion that they remain at sea and try to intercept the treasure fleet due in from the West Indies was also ignored.

  When the fleet arrived back, Devereux found himself held up as a hero to the people, but he received a different response from the Queen, who was angry with him. Elizabeth felt that while she had spent good money on the fleet, her forces had not taken advantage of the situation; they had failed to take any valuable prizes and had not even attempted to capture the treasure ships. Her ire was focused on Devereux – somewhat unjustly considering that he had shared her aims and had tried to persuade his colleagues to pursue them, but had been overruled. Devereux, in turn, was extremely angry with her response.