The Lopez cause célèbre, which had seized the public interest for three weeks, was soon forgotten, though security was tightened up about the Queen’s person. Life at Court continued much as before, and access to her Majesty was still denied Mr Francis Bacon because of his speech in the Commons twelve months previously. By mid-March it became generally known that Edward Coke was to be the new Attorney-General, and his predecessor in office, Sir Thomas Egerton, was now Master of the Rolls.

  One place remained to be filled, that of Solicitor-General, and Francis, whose tenacity of purpose was remarkable in the face of disappointment, made those in authority, and above all his patron the Earl of Essex, aware that he was available for the post. If this final request was denied then, so he told the Earl, ‘I cannot but conclude with myself that no man ever received a more exquisite disgrace. My nature can take no evil ply; but I will, with God’s assistance, with this disgrace of my fortune, and yet with that comfort of the good opinion of so many honourable and worthy persons, retire myself with a couple of men to Cambridge, and there spend my life in my studies and contemplation, without looking back.’

  Meanwhile the Earl of Essex, with intelligence coming to his hands every day from Scotland, Italy and Spain, was finding it impossible to deal with every agent himself, and it caused too much delay to send messengers backwards and forwards to Redbourne. Could not Anthony come to London? Find quarters somewhere in the city not far from Walsingham House, where meetings between them could take place more frequently? Then, even if the Earl was in attendance at Court, at least communication would be easier than it was at present. ‘There are things which I dare not commit to paper,’ the Earl said, and it was two or three hours’ journey to Redbourne. In a further letter he added, ‘I wish I could lend you strength, and borrow pain of you to free you from this ill companion, which keeps you from all your friends but those that are able to go to you.’

  It would seem that Anthony was now attacked by pain in both his legs, and while this was inevitably put down to ‘the gout’ it does suggest that possibly the root cause was arthritis, that crippling disease affecting young and old alike, for which there was no medical term in the sixteenth century. His right hand, his feet and his breathing were at times affected, and this handicap, combined with his already highly sensitive disposition, makes it all the more remarkable that he was able to overcome natural weakness and deal with the Earl’s secret correspondence as competently as he did.

  He decided there was nothing for it but to leave Redbourne and move to London, as the Earl wished. Half-brother Edward wrote offering him his own house in London for £560, to include garden and stable, but not to take it if he could find better elsewhere, which seems to have been the case, for on March 19th his old friend Nicholas Faunt, who was now married, told Anthony that he had reviewed the house he had taken for him in Bishopsgate. Whether this was the same house—and it is the only one—described amongst Anthony’s papers as in need of much repair cannot be proved, but it does not sound very enticing for a semi-invalid. ‘The doors which stand to the weather partly rotten with rain… Somewhat melancholy being of brick stepping down to the entrance… The coming to it with draining cock unpleasant… The boarding of great chamber much in decay.’

  Lady Bacon disapproved of the whole venture, which would mean the establishment at Redbourne being left in the care of servants. ‘Take good order how you leave your house in your absence. They will make havoc and revel abroad when you are gone.’ But worse was to come. ‘Having some speech with Mr Henshaw after you went hence touching your house taken in Bishopsgate Street, and asking him what ministry there, he answered it was very mean. The minister there but ignorant. And he thought you should find the people there given to voluptuousness and the more to make them so, having but mean or no edifying instructions, and the Bull Inn there with continual interludes had even infected the inhabitants with corrupt and lewd dispositions. I marvel you did not first consider of the ministry as most of all needful, and then to live so near a place haunted with such pernicious and obscene plays and theatres able to poison the very godly. And do what you can, your servants shall be incited and spoiled. Good Lord, thought I, how ill follows it out for the choice. No ministry at Twickenham either. Surely I am very sorry you went from Gray’s Inn where there was good Christian company in comparison. But your men always overrule you.’

  Her scolding had no effect. By the middle of April or early in May Anthony was installed in Bishopsgate Street, almost next door to the Bull Inn, where plays were performed, and within easy reach of Shoreditch, where James Burbage had built his two playhouses, the Theatre and the Curtain, over fifteen years before, with the Earl of Leicester’s men the first performers. Closed during 1592 and 1593 because of plague, these places of entertainment were now opened once more, and although James Burbage was to die this year, 1594, his son Cuthbert continued as manager and his son Richard as leading actor of the company, with the Lord Chamberlain himself as patron. Were these Burbages kinsmen to young Edward, who had been employed by Anthony Bacon? One suggestive link. When Cuthbert Burbage applied for a coat-of-arms he said he came from a Hertfordshire family. After Edward had ‘jetted it like a jack’ in May 1593, the next day showing contrition, the name of Burbage does not appear again amongst Anthony’s papers, neither does that of his father, William Burbage of Pinner Park, who had been engaged in a dispute with Mr John Shakespeare over a house in Stratford-upon-Avon.

  Mr John Shakespeare’s son William, aged thirty, was one of the actors in the Burbage company, and, like his fellow-players and the brothers Burbage, was lodging in Bishopsgate when Anthony Bacon came to live next door to the Bull Inn. It is not unreasonable to suppose that the young actor-playwright, patronised as he was by Essex’s friend the Earl of Southampton, became acquainted with the Earl of Essex’s director of intelligence, Anthony Bacon; and that the plays produced by Burbage’s company in this district of theatre-land, at Court, and elsewhere, with the wealth of topical allusion which they contained, may from time to time have owed something to themes suggested by the two Earls and their companions, who watched and applauded and sometimes, perhaps, even contributed to the versification. Anthony, after twelve years in France, widely read in French and Italian, and with information coming in daily from his continental agents, could well have been a valuable source of ideas to the budding dramatist—who, incidentally, a few years later became a lodger in Silver Street, where Sir Nicholas Bacon had owned tenements. Lady Bacon’s fears that her eldest son, and doubtless his brother too, would become involved with theatre-folk were probably well founded.

  If Anthony hobbled to one or other of the playhouses for relaxation, or sat watching the clowns at the Bull Inn, his hours otherwise were fully occupied in sifting through intelligence from Scotland. Besides Dr Morrison there were a James Hudson and a David Foulis, both of them Scottish gentlemen about the Court of King James, and both capable of carrying on their correspondence in French. David Foulis, in particular, mentioned Anthony’s name to the King of Scotland, who thereafter had a good opinion of him.

  Certain of the Catholic Scots noblemen, Earl Bothwell in particular, were in a state of rebellion against their King, and James himself was desirous of financial aid from Queen Elizabeth. He suspected the Queen’s ambassador, now Lord Zouche, of carrying on a clandestine correspondence with the rebel Bothwell. Relations between the two kingdoms were sensitive, therefore, and must be handled with care. The King of Scotland found the Earl of Essex, via his agent Mr Anthony Bacon, more sympathetic than the Lord Treasurer or the Secretary of State, both of whom acted with extreme caution whenever loans were in question, but matters were becoming urgent; the rebel earls had several hundred men in the field, and were expecting reinforcements from Spain at any time.

  David Foulis suggested that not all those in the immediate vicinity of King James were always to be trusted, and thought that someone should be sent to reconnoitre, and that someone a person well known to the Earl of Essex. Whether this was the mission on which Francis Bacon started forth for Scotland in July is uncertain, but the timing is significant. Unfortunately, sudden ill-health, the family failing—in this case ‘a flux of the blood’—overtook him when he had got as far as Cambridge, and the mission was abandoned. So once more he was unable to prove his worth to her Majesty.

  Lady Bacon was again giving trouble, and Edward Spencer, Alderman Spencer’s nephew and newly one of Anthony Bacon’s attendants, was at his wit’s end throughout the summer keeping the peace between Gorhambury and Redbourne, reporting every few days to his master in Bishopsgate. Tom Lawson had been sent a greyhound bitch at Redbourne, and, not wanting her, had passed the animal on to Spencer at Gorhambury. Lady Bacon was furious and bade Spencer hang the poor bitch, which he did reluctantly, and was then scolded for the deed. The dialogue between her ladyship and the alderman’s nephew was good enough for the playhouse. Perhaps it found its way there in altered form, but the original goes as follows:

  Lady Bacon Go home to your master, and make a fool out of him. You shall make none of me. I marvel where he picked you out. There is Mr Lawson, who hath gotten away my brewer and your master together, but he shall hear of it one day.

  Spencer My Lady, Mr Bacon is minded to send to the fair to buy some horses, and hath sent me and Mr Lawson some money for the same.

  Lady Bacon Let him do as he will, he shall have none of me.

  Spencer My Lady, Mr Bacon hath got great experience and great worship both within this land and without.

  Lady Bacon I know how vainly his money hath been spent. But I am sure he hath gotten a weak body of his own and is diseased in the meantime.

  Spencer My Lady, he would have written to you, but the Scottish gentleman is come.

  Lady Bacon How many horses does he mean to buy?

  Spencer Four or five.

  Lady Bacon My sons they be vainglorious, but they will hear of it one day… What hast thou there? A brace of partridges killed by your sparrowhawk? You shall keep no hawk here.

  Spencer My Lady, shall I pull off her head?

  Lady Bacon (stamping) Aye, as you did the greyhound bitch. As for that Lawson, he is a villain and a whoremaster, and the doctor in Redbourne is little better, being both Papist and sorcerer. Now to bed with you, and without your supper.

  There was not one in the house, Spencer told Anthony, but she fell out with. She had taken away Winter’s cloak, she had quarrelled with both brothers Knight, and she made Spencer buy his own starch and soap to wash his linen. Verily, there was no pleasing her. Anthony took pen in hand and addressed his mother.

  Madam,

  For answer on my part to your Ladyship’s letter, I found myself emboldened with warrant of a good conscience, and by the force of truth, to remonstrate unto your Ladyship with a most dutiful mind, and tender care of your Ladyship’s soul and reputation, that howsoever your Ladyship doth pretend and allege for reason your motherly affection towards us, in that which concerneth Lawson. Yet any man of judgement and indifference must needs take it for a mere passion, springing either from presumption, that your Ladyship can only judge and see that in the man, which never any man yet hath seen; or from a sovereign desire to over-rule your sons in all things, how little soever you may understand either the ground or the circumstances of their proceedings; or else from want of civility, abandoning your mind continually to most strange and wrongful suspicions, notwithstanding all most humble submissions and endeavours possible on his part to procure your Ladyship’s satisfaction and contentment. Whereupon, entirely reposing myself on infallible grounds, I remain more ready to receive and endure your blame for performing with free filial respect this my bounden duty, than your thanks, or liking for soothing or allowing by silence so dangerous humours and uncharitable misconceits.

  And so I most humbly take my leave.

  Anthony.

  And less humbly, he might have added, turn to pursuits which gave more cause for concern, for the flow of documents between Bishopsgate and Scotland sometimes threatened to overwhelm him. Moreover, a messenger had arrived from brother Francis to say that one of their Cooke relatives was to travel abroad and needed £150 for the journey… He must turn to Montaigne. ‘Ce n’est pas assez de lui roidir l’âme; il lui faut aussi roidir les muscles.’

  12

  Summer had come and gone, Anthony was in Bishopsgate Street and Francis at Twickenham Park. The appointment of Solicitor-General was still unfilled. Nevertheless, Francis was never idle; he had been engaged in some investigation into a criminal matter during September which had come to nothing, and in October he wrote to his brother from Twickenham that, ‘One day draweth upon another, and I am well pleased in my being here; for methinks solitariness collecteth the mind, as shutting the eyes doth the sight.’ At Twickenham he could turn to writing, his mind forever teeming with ideas, but before settling in the December recess to Promus of Formularies and Elegancies there was the usual trifle to be got out of the way for the students of Gray’s Inn, a device for the Christmas revels in the Inn of Glaucus, in which Francis always took part.

  It was customary for the students to elect a Prince of Purpoole—the word deriving from Portpool Lane, east of Gray’s Inn Road—who held court for the twelve days of Christmas, with officers of state and all about him, in mock imitation of the Court of Westminster. The revel gave amusement not only to law-students, benchers, readers and all concerned, but to the real-life dignitaries of State also, who were invited for the occasion.

  This time the play, The Misfortunes of Arthur, was written by a Welshman, Thomas Hughes, but there were also ‘speeches penned by others’. The dumb show before the acts was devised by Christopher Yelverton, Francis Bacon, John Lancaster and Francis Flower. The Queen graciously supplied ‘cloth of gold and other stuff’ for the handsome young Prince of Purpoole and his companions. Besides the performance in Gray’s Inn and later at Court, the Prince and his retinue were invited to dine with the Lord Mayor of London, riding through the city in state, watched by the gaping crowds, a forerunner, perhaps, of the Lord Mayor’s Show in later times.

  The performance at Gray’s Inn was on Innocents Day December 28th 1594, and the guests were gentlemen and dignitaries from the rival establishment of the Inner Temple. Lady Bacon had earlier warned Anthony, ‘I trust they will not mum nor mask nor sinfully revel at Gray’s Inn. Who were sometime counted first, God grant they wane not daily and deserve to be named last.’

  Her fears were justified. On the first of the grand nights, with the guests from the Inner Temple about to take their seats, the crowd in the hall at Gray’s Inn became so great that there was no room for the actors. People were pressing on all sides to see the fun, and instead of an orderly and scholarly display a vulgar play, A Comedy of Errors, was performed before the shocked audience and the evening broke up in general disorder. A post mortem was held the following day. Such a thing must never be permitted again. A ‘graver conceit’ must be produced on January 3rd when the Lord Keeper, the Lord Treasurer, the Vice-Chamberlain and others were invited. The post mortem was, of course, a pretence, as had been the uproar of the preceding evening. It was all part of Gesta Grayorum, and the lively students had performed many a light-hearted entertainment in other years.

  After the gaiety of the Night of Errors, as it came to be called, a more sober production was performed on January 3rd, this time a playful satire on the contemporary scene, the whole obviously thought out by Mr Francis Bacon, with the Prince addressing his Privy Council and the Councillors replying, one advising the Study of Philosophy, another Fame, Buildings and Foundations, a third the Absoluteness of State and Treasure, and the last Virtue and a gracious Government. The Prince of Purpoole’s reign lasted, as usual, until Shrove Tuesday, when he and his Knights of the Helmet performed Proteus and the Rock Adamantine before the Queen at Greenwich. Then the brief and glorious reign came to an end, and the Prince became a law student once more.

  But Francis was still without the hoped-for position of Solicitor-General. It was a repetition of the preceding year and his attempt to become Attorney-General: the Earl of Essex pleaded with the Queen, the Queen replied that she had not made up her mind. Now Lady Bacon began to take a part in it, surely a fatal intervention, and early in January went herself to discuss the matter with her nephew Sir Robert Cecil. She was received with courtesy, very naturally, and the following dialogue took place.

  Sir Robert Your sons are well, I trust, madam?

  Lady Bacon I visited the elder yesterday. It would be much more to my comfort if his health would let him be, God having ennobled his mind.

  Sir Robert That is true, madam, he hath good parts, but gout and stone be too naturally drawn from parents.

  Lady Bacon Well… the eldest of my but two in all sons is visited by God and the other, methinks, is but strangely used by men’s dealings, God knows who and why. I think he is the very first young gentleman of some account and yet nothing done for him. It is enough to throw a young and studious man, as he is given indeed, wise both for years and understanding. The world marvels in respect of his friends and his own towardness. Experience teacheth that her Majesty’s nature is not to resolve but to delay.

  Sir Robert I dare say, madam, my Lord [his father, the Lord Treasurer] would gladly have had my cousin placed ere this.

  Lady Bacon I hope so myself… But some think if my Lord had been earnest it would have been done.

  Sir Robert Surely, my Lord even on last Tuesday moved the Queen that the term day was near and required a solicitor for her service, and she straightway answered it was a shame the place was so long unfurnished, and was there no one but Francis Bacon fitted for the place? I know not, said my Lord, but the judges and others have and do take him sufficient with your favour and it is expected of all this term. Whereto she gave no grant.