Chapter 6

To conclude, then, of all the former reign, it is said that those two lived and died chiefly in her grace and favour: by the letter written upon his son’s marriage with the Lady Catherine Grey, he had like utterly to have lost himself; but at the instant of consummation, as apprehending the unsafety and danger of intermarriage with the blood royal, he fell at the Queen’s feet, where he both acknowledged his presumption, and projected the cause and the divorce together: so quick he was at his work, that in the time of repudiation of the said Lady Grey, he clapped up a marriage for his son, the Lord Herbert, with Mary Sidney, daughter to Sir Henry Sidney, then Lord Deputy of Ireland, the blow falling on Edward, the late Earl of Hertford, who, to his cost, took up the divorced lady, of whom the Lord Beauchamp was born, and William, now Earl of Hertford, is descended.

I come now to present them to her own election, which were either admitted to her secrets of State, or taken into her grace and favour; of whom, in order, I crave leave to give unto posterity a cautious description, with a short character or draught of the persons themselves (for, without offence to others, I would be true to myself), their memories and merits, distinguishing those of _Militiæ_ {122a} from the _Togati_; {122b} and of both these she had as many, and those as able ministers, as had any of her progenitors.

LEICESTER.

It will be out of doubt that my Lord of Leicester was one of the first whom she made Master of the Horse; he was the youngest son then living of the Duke of Northumberland, beheaded _primo Mariæ_, {122c} and his father was that Dudley which our histories couple with Empson, and both be much infamed for the caterpillars of the commonwealth during the reign of Henry VII., who, being of a noble extract, was executed the first year of Henry VIII., but not thereby so extinct but that he left a plentiful estate, and such a son who, as the vulgar speaks it, would live without a teat. For, out of the ashes of his father’s infamy, he rose to be a duke, and as high as subjection could permit or sovereignty endure. And though he could not find out any appellation to assume the crown in his own person, yet he projected, and very nearly effected it, for his son Gilbert, by intermarriage with the Lady Jane Grey, and so, by that way, to bring it into his loins. Observations which, though they lie beyond us, and seem impertinent to the text, yet are they not much extravagant, for they must lead us and show us how the after-passages were brought about, with the dependences on the line of a collateral workmanship; and surely it may amaze a well-settled judgment to look back into these times and to consider how the duke could attain to such a pitch of greatness, his father dying in ignominy, and at the gallows, his estate confiscated for pilling and polling the people.

But, when we better think upon it, we find that he was given up but as a sacrifice to please the people, not for any offence committed against the person of the King; so that upon the matter he was a martyr of the prerogative, and the King in honour could do no less than give back to his son the privilege of his blood, with the acquiring of his father’s profession, for he was a lawyer, and of the King’s Council at Law, before he came to be _ex interioribus consiliis_, {124a} where, besides the licking of his own fingers, he got the King a mass of riches, and that not with hazard, but with the loss of his life and fame, for the King’s father’s sake.

Certain it is that his son was left rich in purse and brain, which are good foundations, and fuel to ambition; and, it may be supposed, he was on all occasions well heard of the King as a person of mark and compassion in his eye, but I find not that he did put up for advancement during Henry VIII.’s time, although a vast aspirer and a provident stayer.

It seems he thought the King’s reign was much given to the falling-sickness, but espying his time fitting, and the sovereignty in the hands of a pupil prince, he then thought he might as well put up, for it was the best; for having the possession of blood, and of purse, with a head-piece of a vast extent, he soon got to honour, and no sooner there but he began to side it with the best, even with the Protector, {124b} and, in conclusion, got his and his brother’s heads; still aspiring till he expired in the loss of his own, so that posterity may, by reading of the father and grandfather, make judgment of the son; for we shall find that this Robert, whose original we have now traced the better to present him, was inheritor to the genius and craft of his father, and Ambrose of the estate, of whom hereafter we shall make some short mention.

We took him now as he was admitted into the Court and the Queen’s favours, and here he was not to seek to play his part well and dexterously; but his play was chiefly at the fore-game, not that he was a learner at the latter, but he loved not the after-wit, for the report is (and I think not unjustly) that he was seldom behind-hand with his gamesters, and that they always went with the loss.

He was a very goodly person, tall, and singularly well-featured, and all his youth well-favoured, of a sweet aspect, but high-foreheaded, which (as I should take it) was of no discommendation; but towards his latter, and which with old men was but a middle age, he grew high-coloured, so that the Queen had much of her father, for, expecting some of her kindred, and some few that had handsome wits in crooked bodies, she always took personage in the way of election, for the people hath it to this day, _King Henry loved a man_.

Being thus in her grace, she called to mind the sufferings of _his_ ancestors, both in her father’s and sister’s reigns, and restored his and his brother’s blood, creating Ambrose, the elder, Earl of Warwick, and himself Earl of Leicester; and, as he was _ex primitis_, or, _of her first choice_, so he rested not there, but long enjoyed her favour, and therewith what he listed, till time and emulation, the companions of greatness, resolved of his period, and to colour him at his setting in a cloud (at Conebury) not by so violent a death, or by the fatal sentence of a judicature, as that of his father and grandfather was, but, as is supposed, by that poison which he had prepared for others, wherein they report him a rare artist. I am not bound to give credit to all vulgar relations, or the libels of his time, which are commonly forced and falsified suitable to the words and honours {126} of men in passion and discontent; but what blinds me to think him no good man, amongst other things of known truth, is that of my Lord of Essex’s {127a} death in Ireland and the marriage of his lady, which I forbear to press in regard he is long since dead, and others are living whom it may concern.

To take him in the observation of his letters and writings, which should best set him off, for such as have fallen into my hands, I never yet saw a style or phrase more seemingly religious and fuller of the strains of devotion; and, were they not sincere, I doubt much of his well-being, {127b} and, I fear, he was too well seen in the aphorisms and principles of Nicholas the Florentine, and in the reaches {127c} of Cesare Borgia.

And hereto I have only touched him in his courtships. I conclude him in his lance; {127d} he was sent Governor by the Queen to the revolted States of Holland, where we read not of his wonders, for they say he had more of Mercury than he had of Mars, and that his device might have been, without prejudice to the great Cæsar, _Veni_, _vidi_, _redivi_.

RADCLIFFE, EARL OF SUSSEX.

His {128} co-rival was Thomas Radcliffe, Earl of Sussex, who in his constellation was his direct opposite, for indeed he was one of the Queen’s martialists, and did her very good service in Ireland, at her first accession, till she recalled him to the Court, whom she made Lord Chamberlain; but he played not his game with that cunning and dexterity as the Earl of Leicester did, who was much the fairer courtier, though Sussex was thought much the honester man, and far the better soldier, but he lay too open on his guard; he was a godly gentleman, and of a brave and noble nature, true and constant to his friends and servants; he was also of a very ancient and noble lineage, honoured through many descents, through the title of Fitzwalters. Moreover, there was such an antipathy in his nature to that of Leicester, that, being together in Court, and both in high employments, they grew to a direct frowardness, and were in continual opposition, the one setting the watch, the other the guard, each on the other’s actions and motions; for my Lord of Sussex was of so great spirit, which, backed with the Queen’s special favour and support, {129} by a great and ancient inheritance, could not brook the other’s empire, insomuch as the Queen upon sundry occasions had somewhat to do to appease and atone them, until death parted the competition, and left the place to Leicester, who was not long alone without his rival in grace and command; and, to conclude this favourite, it is confidently affirmed that, lying in his last sickness, he gave this _caveat_ to his friends:—

“I am now passing into another world, and I must leave you to your fortunes and the Queen’s grace and goodness; but beware of gipsy” (meaning Leicester), “for he will be too hard for you all; you know not the beast so well as I do.”

SECRETARY WILLIAM CECIL.

I come now to the next, which was Secretary William Cecil, for on the death of the old Marquis of Winchester he came up in his room: a person of a most subtle and active spirit.

He stood not by the way of constellation, but was wholly attentive to the service of his mistress, and his dexterity, experience, and merit therein challenged a room in the Queen’s favour which eclipsed the other’s over-seeming greatness, and made it appear that there were others steered and stood at the helm besides himself, and more stars in the firmament of grace than Ursa Major.

He was born, as they say, in Lincolnshire, but, as some aver upon knowledge, of a younger brother of the Cecils of Hertfordshire, a family of my own knowledge, though now private, yet of no mean antiquity, who, being exposed, and sent to the City, as poor gentlemen used to do their sons, became to be a rich man on London Bridge, and purchased {130a} in Lincolnshire, where this man was born.

He was sent to Cambridge, and then to the Inns of Court, and so came to serve the Duke of Somerset in the time of his Protectorship {130b} as Secretary, and having a pregnancy to high inclinations, he came by degrees to a higher conversation with the chiefest affairs of State and Councils; but, on the fall of the duke, he stood some years in umbrage and without employment, till the State found they needed his abilities; and although we find not that he was taken into any place during Mary’s reign, unless (as some say) towards the last, yet the Council several times made use of him, and in the Queen’s {131a} entrance he was admitted Secretary of State; afterwards he was made Master of the Court of Wards, then Lord Treasurer, for he was a person of most excellent abilities; and, indeed, the Queen began to need and seek out men of both guards, and so I conclude to rank this {131b} great instrument amongst the _Togati_, for he had not to do with the sword, more than as the great paymaster and contriver of the war which shortly followed, wherein he accomplished much, through his theoretical knowledge at home and his intelligence abroad, by unlocking of the counsels of the Queen’s enemies.

We must now take it, and that of truth, into observation that, until the tenth of her reign, the times were calm and serene, though sometimes overcast, as the most glorious sun-rising is subject to shadowings and droppings, for the clouds of Spain, and the vapours of the Holy League, began to disperse and threaten her felicity. Moreover, she was then to provide for some intestine strangers, which began to gather in the heart of her kingdom, all which had relation and correspondency, each one to the other, to dethrone her and to disturb the public tranquillity, and therewithal, as a principal mark, the Established religion, for the name of Recusant then began first to be known to the world; until then the Catholics were no more than Church-Papists, {132} but now, commanded by the Pope’s express Catholic Church, their mother, they separate themselves; so it seems the Pope had then his aims to take a true number of his children; but the Queen had the greater advantage, for she likewise took tale of her opposite subjects, their strength and how many they were, that had given their names to Baal, who {133} then by the hands of some of his proselytes fixed his bulls on the gates of St. Paul’s, which discharged her subjects of all fidelity and received faith, and so, under the veil of the next successor, to replant the Catholic religion. So that the Queen had then a new task and work in hand that might well awake her best providence, and required a muster of new arms, as well as courtships and counsels, for the time then began to grow quick and active, fitter for stronger motions than them of the carpet and measure; and it will be a true note of her magnanimity that she loved a soldier, and had a propensity in her nature to regard and always to grace them, which the Court, taking it into their consideration, took it as an inviting to win honour, together with Her Majesty’s favour, by exposing themselves to the wars, especially when the Queen and the affairs of the kingdom stood in some necessity of the soldiers, for we have many instances of the sallies of the nobility and gentry; yea, and of the Court and her privy favourites, that had any touch or tincture of Mars in their inclinations, to steal away without licence and the Queen’s privity, which had like to cost some of them dear, so predominant were their thoughts and hopes of honour grown in them, as we may truly observe in the exposition of Sir Philip Sidney, my Lord of Essex and Mountjoy, and divers others, whose absence, and the manner of their eruptions, was very distasteful unto her, whereof I can hereunto add a true and no impertinent story, and that of the last: Mountjoy, who, having twice or thrice stole away into Brittany, where, under Sit John Norris, he had then a company, without the Queen’s leave and privity, she sent a message unto him with a strict charge to the general to see him sent home.

When he came into the Queen’s presence, she fell into a kind railing, demanding of him how he durst go over without her leave. “Serve me so,” quoth she, “once more, and I will lay you fast enough for running; you will never leave till you are knocked on the head, as that inconsiderate fellow Sidney was; you shall go when I send. In the meantime, see that you lodge in the Court” (which was then at Whitehall), “where you may follow your book, read, and discourse of the wars.” But to our purpose. It fell out happily to those, and, as I may say, to these times, that the Queen during the calm time of her reign was not idle, nor rocked asleep with security, for she had been very provident in the reparation and augmentation of her shipping and ammunition, and I know not whether by a foresight of policy, or any instinct, it came about, or whether it was an act of her compassion, but it is most certain she sent no small troops to the revolted States of Holland, before she had received any affront from the King of Spain, that might deserve to tend to a breach of hostility, which the Papists maintain to this day was the provocation to the after-wars; but, omitting what might be said to this point, these Netherland wars were the Queen’s seminaries or nursery of very many brave soldiers, and so likewise were the civil wars of France, whither she sent five several armies.

They were the French scholars that inured the youth and gentry of the kingdom, and it was a militia, where they were daily in acquaintance with the discipline of the Spaniards, who were then turned the Queen’s inveterate enemies.

And thus have I taken in observation her _dies Halcyonii_—_i.e._, these years of hers which were more serene and quiet than those that followed, which, though they were not less propitious, as being touched more with the points of honour and victory, yet were they troubled and loaded ever, both with domestic and foreign machinations; and, as it is already quoted, they were such as awakened her spirits and made her cast about her to defend rather by offending, and by way of provision to prevent all invasions, than to expect them, which was a piece of the cunning of the times; and with this I have noted the causes and _principium_ {136} of the wars following, and likewise points to the seed-plots from whence she took up these brave men and plants of honour who acted on the theatre of Mars, and on whom she dispersed the rays of her grace; who were persons, in their kinds of care, virtuous, and such as might, out of their merit, pretend interest to her favours, of which rank the number will equal, if not exceed, that of her gown-men, in recount of whom I will proceed with Sir Philip Sidney.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

He was the son of Sir Henry Sidney, Lord Deputy of Ireland, and President of Wales, a person of great parts, and of no mean grace with the Queen; his mother was sister to my Lord of Leicester, from whence we may conjecture how the father stood up in the sphere of honour and employments, so that his descent was apparently noble on both sides; and for his education, it was such as travel and the University could afford none better, and his tutors infuse; for, after an incredible proficiency in all the spheres of learning, he left the academical for that of the Court, whither he came by his uncle’s invitation, famed after by noble reports of his accomplishments, which, together with the state of his person, framed by a natural propensity to arms, soon attracted the good opinions of all men, and was so highly praised in the esteem of the Queen, that she thought the Court deficient without him; and whereas, through the fame of his desert, he was in election for the kingdom of Pole, {138} she refused to further his preferment, it was not out of emulation of advancement, but out of fear to lose the jewel of her time. He married the daughter and sole heir of Sir Frances Walsingham, the Secretary of State, a lady destined to the bed of honour, who, after his deplorable death at Zutphen, in the Low Countries, where he was at the time of his uncle Leicester’s being there, was remarried to the Lord of Essex, and, since his death, to my Lord of St. Albans, all persons of the sword, and otherwise of great honour and virtue.

They have a very quaint conceit of him, that Mars and Mercury fell at variance whose servant he should be; and there is an epigrammatist that saith that Art and Nature had spent their excellences in his fashioning, and, fearing they could not end what they had begun, they bestowed him up for time, and Nature stood mute and amazed to behold her own mark; but these are the particulars of poets.

Certain it is he was a noble and matchless gentleman, and it may be said justly of him, without these hyperboles of faction, as it was of Cato Uticensis, that he seemed to be born only to that which he went about, _vir satilis ingenii_, as Plutarch saith it; but to speak more of him were to make them less.

WALSINGHAM.

Sir Francis Walsingham, as we have said, had the honour to be Sir Philip Sidney’s father-in-law; he was a gentleman at first, of a good house, and of a better education, and from the University travelled for the rest of his learning. Doubtless he was the only linguist of his times, how to use his own tongue, whereby he came to be employed in the chiefest affairs of State.

He was sent Ambassador to France, and stayed there _Legar_ long in the heat of the civil wars, and at the same time that Monsieur was here a suitor to the Queen; and, if I be not mistaken, he played the very same part there as since Gondomar did here. {140a} At his return he was taken principal Secretary, and for one of the great engines of State, and of the times, high in his mistress’s (the Queen’s) favour, and a watchful servant over the safety of his mistress.

They note him to have certain courtesies and secret ways of intelligence above the rest; but I must confess I am to seek wherefore he suffered Parry {140b} to play so long as he did, hang on the hook, before he hoisted him up; and I have been a little curious in the search thereof, though I have not to do with the _Arcana Regalia Imperii_, for to know it is sometimes a burden; and I remember it was Ovid’s criminant error that he saw too much, but I hope these are collaterals, and of no danger.

But that Parry, having an intent to kill the Queen, made the way of his access by betraying of others, and in impeaching of the priests of his own correspondency, and thereby had access to confer with the Queen, as oftentimes private and familiar discourse with Walsingham, will not be the query of the mystery, for the Secretary might have had an end of a further discovery and maturity of the treason; but that, after the Queen knew Parry’s intent, why she would then admit him to private discourse, and Walsingham to suffer him, considering the conditions of all the designs, and to permit him to go where and whither he listed, and only under the secrecy of a dark sentinel set over him, was a piece of reach and hazard beyond my apprehension. I must again profess that I have read many of his letters, for they are commonly sent to my Lord of Leicester and of Burleigh out of France, containing many fine passages and secrets, yet, if I might have been beholding to his cyphers, they would have told pretty tales of the times; but I must now close him up, and rank him amongst the _Togati_, yet chief of those that laid the foundations of the French and Dutch wars, which was another piece of his fineness of the times, with one observation more, that he was one of the greatest always of the Austrian embracements, for both himself and Stafford that preceded him might well have been compared to him in the Gospel that sowed his tares in the night; so did they their seeds in division in the dark; and as it is a likely report that they father on him at his return, the Queen speaking to him with some sensibility of the Spanish designs on France: “Madam,” he answered, “I beseech you be content, and fear not; the Spaniard hath a great appetite and an excellent digestion, but I have fitted him with a bone for these twenty years that your Majesty should have no cause to doubt him, provided that, if the fire chance to slake which I have kindled, you will be ruled by me, and cast in some of your fuel, which will revive the flame.”

WILLOUGHBY.

My Lord Willoughby was one of the Queen’s first swordsmen; he was of the ancient extract of the Bartewes, but more ennobled by his mother, who was Duchess of Suffolk. He was a great master of the art _military_, and was sent general into France, and commanded the second army of five the Queen had sent thither, in aid of the French. I have heard it spoken that, had he not slighted the Court, but applied himself to the Queen, he might have enjoyed a plentiful portion of her grace; and it was his saying, and it did him no good, that he was none of the _reptilia_, intimating that he could not creep on the ground, and that the Court was not his element; for, indeed, as he was a great soldier, so he was of a suitable magnanimity, and could not brook the obsequiousness and assiduity of the Court; and as he was then somewhat descending from youth, happily he had an _animam revertendi_, or a desire to make a safe retreat.

BACON.