International affairs, however, took priority over Devices or even scurrilous hints on the succession. The King of France had received absolution from the Pope, he was now a true Catholic in all but his secret conscience, and he sent word to the Queen of England by his own emissaries and by stouthearted Sir Roger Williams that pressure was being put upon him to make peace with Spain, something he was in every way unwilling to do, for it would mean separating France from the alliance with England and the Low Countries. If this alliance, which was so dear to him, could be strengthened by the sending of troops from England, he need not be forced into the humility of seeking peace, or leaving the Queen of England to face the might of Spain alone.

  The threat of invasion from another Armada, bringing back all the fears and excitement of seven years before, was enough to swing the Earl of Essex into immediate action. Away with passing trifles and moods of melancholy. His secretaries and his advisers, Anthony amongst them, were set to work to review the coastal defences. Ports in Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Cornwall—there had earlier in the year been a raid by the Spaniards at Penzance—these places must be fortified, Bristol on the Severn strengthened, Plymouth well garrisoned, Sussex, Hampshire, Essex, Suffolk must all form an army and be ready to act in any direction to repel the invader and guard her Majesty’s person.

  Essex was in his element. This was the life, of action and leadership, for which he had been born. And if he should have her Majesty’s permission to tour the country seeing to her defences, there would be none better to accompany him, and give advice, than that tough old warrior Sir Roger Williams.

  It was not to be. Sir Roger, who had so often, by his own account, and indeed by those of eye-witnesses devoted to him, escaped a bloody death on the field of battle, found it, after brief illness, in his own bed at Barnard’s Castle down the river from Essex House, on the night of December 12th. Cause of death, ‘a surfeit’. Too much eating and drinking with the lads, too much seeking after fire and smoke, too much merry-making with the wenches and the roaring boys of the London and the Windsor taverns. Yet he died well, said a correspondent the following day, with the Earl of Essex at his bedside, for ‘none but he could make him have a feeling of his end, he died repentant’. Perhaps, like the fictitious character he so much resembled, he ‘babbled of greene fields, his Nose as sharpe as a Pen… Hee’s in Arthur’s Bosome if ever man went to Arthur’s Bosome; and went away, and it had beene a Chrystome child, between twelve and one, even at turning of the tide.’

  Sir Roger left his entire fortune to his beloved Earl of Essex, who spent most of his legacy in giving his old friend a martial funeral and having him laid in St Paul’s. It was a sad Christmas for those who watched him go by water from Essex Stairs.

  Interlude for Jacques Petit

  Jacques Petit, the Gascon boy who had come from the neighbourhood of Montauban as a page a year or more ago, and was now promoted to even closer attendance upon his master, was not amongst those at Essex House in December, for Anthony had sent him upon a special assignment. The true nature of his mission is obscure, but the outward reason seems to have been to wait upon Edward Russell, 3rd Earl of Bedford, who had succeeded to the title in 1585 at the age of thirteen, greatly to the chagrin of Anthony’s aunt Elizabeth, whose late husband, Lord John Russell, would have become 3rd Earl had he lived. Edward Russell, now in his early twenties, had married Lucy, the young daughter of Sir John Harington of Exton. Sir John—not to be confused with his kinsman of the same name, who was Queen Elizabeth’s godson—had been a neighbour of Anthony’s in Bishopsgate. His daughter appears to have set forth with her husband on a journey to her father’s country mansion, Burley in the county of Rutland, with the purpose of arriving in time for Christmas; and Jacques was amongst those in attendance upon the young couple. The tour is included here as an interlude between the events of 1595 and those of 1596, for the picture it gives of life in a noble household at that era, amusingly described by the naïve and somewhat bewildered French boy.

  The first stop was at St Albans, but certainly not at Gorhambury, although Lady Bacon was probably aware of the turmoil a few miles from her estate. But Jacques Petit must speak for himself (he writes in French):

  Monseigneur,

  The principal subject of all my actions can only be the remembrance of my duty in your service. And yet if I do not wish to fail I cannot let any opportunity slip by without showing you whither I am bound. At 6 o’clock in the evening I arrived in this town, St Albans, where I caught up with my Lord who had left London before me. Having installed myself reasonably well I went to see him in his lodgings, quite unknown amongst many others, and my Lady for her pastime watching a tumbler do juggling tricks, and after many other clever tricks he threaded three threads in a needle of very fine quality, and unthreaded them—the ladies had provided them—turning and twisting quickly between two candles, to the sound of two violins.

  And afterwards, when the meat was served, four trumpets sounded to call my Lord as it is done at the Court for the King. These are only trifles and things of naught that I tell you, so I shall not stay long, and with my very humble and ordinary prayers to God to send you health and accomplishment of your desires, I will end, imploring you to believe that I love nothing so much as means and occasions to honour you.

  J. Petit.

  The next night Jacques reports once more:

  We slept at Bedford where to welcome Monsieur le Comte [presumably he means the Earl of Bedford] the bells were rung and he was brought apples and wine by the chief men of the town. Thursday we went to the house of Sir Edward Montagu but the train was sent back a mile from there, when each was for himself at his own cost, and God for all. Friday the rendezvous for great and small was at breakfast at the knight’s house, who in truth I confess treated us passably. At the parting, two or three of the household accompanied my Lord very close, waiting I think that no harm was done. Thus very late we were near to Burley, where for my part I have been welcomed and caressed by Monsieur le Doux [a French agent employed by Anthony Bacon] and others. After the deliverance of your precious merchandise and oriental present to him, I told him the news, and offered him my services. As for the state of this house, it is short of order, and of money, but I won’t speak of it any more.

  Your humble servant,

  Jacques.

  On December 14th he writes again:

  With your consent I resume once more to tell you how the world governs itself in these parts. No day passes without hunting; both Madame the Countess and the Earl with their carriages drawn by four horses. The knight Mr Harington alone pays the cost of all these pleasures, and pays dearly for the glory of the name of Countess for his daughter, and would like, from what I hear, that what is done were to be redone. He used to lease out all his lands without annual rent, being able to put in or eject whenever he pleased. Now he is forced to make a lease to this one, and a contract to that one for many years, and is bound to anyone who will provide him with ready money. Certainly he needs it, since more than 200 persons sleep and feed in the house, 30 or 40 horses, and as many couples of dogs; coming and going principally on Sundays.

  There is not an inn in London which covers so many tables as is done here. And there is much muddle and confusion this Christmas, making many useless expenditures on tragedies and games. But since the custom is for so much bad play, one keeps a good face on it… Leaving the description of a thousand things that are not worth the trouble to tell you, since you will understand the worry of the rest, your humble servant kisses your hands… I have a cap from Ireland, brownish-green with a wreath of white Cyprus thread, to cover my beaver hat.

  J.

  This last could, perhaps, be a message in cipher, but remembering those bills to the London hatter it is more endearing to believe that Jacques was taking pride in his personal appearance.

  Then early in January:

  Monseigneur,

  After these days of holidays full of ease and pastimes I make so bold to salute very humbly your good graces by these presents which will also contain—if it please you—the excellent and magnificent rule that has been held in this house with all good men and true this Christmas. The orders were to receive and entertain 8 or 9 hundred neighbours who came every day to celebrate here. Twice a day there was a sermon in the church, morning and after dinner, and every day a new minister. Monsieur and Madame the Countess were mostly present. Monsieur the Count was served with all the honour and respect possible at dinner and supper, there was music, 30 or 40 gentlemen servants, 2 or 3 cavaliers and their ladies, in addition to many gentlemen and demoiselles who were at table, then after the meal came the dance and amusing games to make us laugh and serve as recreation. Monsieur Jean dined in hall to receive his neighbours and principal farmers, entertaining these with an excessive choice of all kinds of dishes, and all kinds of wines. His maître d’hôtel took care to see that nothing was lacking, and in addition laid out 4 or 5 long tables of meat for 80 or 100 people at a time, who having finished made way for as many others, and took their leave. After it was over, bread and wine in barrels were carried to the poor who were all satisfied, so that there were many left-overs.

  New Year’s Day was demonstrated by the generosity of these people, and principally of Madame the Countess, for, from the greatest down to the smallest, she gave good evidence. I could even say a word on the subject myself.

  The comedians from London were come here to have their share. They were made to play the day of their arrival, and the next morning they were sent on their way. We had a masquerade here written by Sir Edward Wingfield, and they also played the tragedy of Titus Andronicus, but the presentation was worth more than the subject matter. Apart from all this, and which is even more to be prized, is that when one celebration was over we embarked upon another for good cheer, and pastimes are greater and amusing because nothing spoils enjoyment more than crowds and a too great number of rustics.

  I should be very happy if one of your people would do me the kindness of informing me, with your good leave, if 6 letters I have written have been handed to you, though I know my method and style are not worthy to be presented.

  Accept my devotion, and humble and sincere affection, and excuse the lack of that subtle finesse and sharpness of spirit which is used by many others. And with this hope I kiss very humbly your poor sick hands, to which as to your whole body I pray God to please send you perfect health, with honour and contentment to your spirit.

  Your devoted servant,

  Jacques Petit.

  So his master was crippled with the gout again, and unable to reply. But life at Burley was not all feasting and recreation, for Jacques sent snippets of gossip heard at table. ‘It is said the Spaniard hopes to come to the west as he did in the year 88…’ ‘That the Queen wishes to send 20,000 men into France…’ ‘That Sir John Harington for his part must lease out his land to his followers. The money of which I spoke in my last will go to pay his debts, and some 200 marks were carried to London by Wilkinson his man…’ ‘My hand is always trembling for fear of committing some disgrace, by ignorance or otherwise, thus losing your esteem…’

  The new year celebrations over, Jacques was desirous of returning to his master. But there were impediments.

  Monseigneur,

  Following my duty, which is the rudder of all my affections, and the spring of all my actions, I must obey you in all that you decide for me, in that Monsieur le Doux proposes that I am to stay here to teach French to Sir John Harington’s grandson. Whatever you wish, Monseigneur, I will do it, with a joyous heart, but it is to return to you that is my true wish. Yet if you command me to stay in this place, then that is my desire, so that I may give thanks to you by my industry, and to try and win approval from these noble lords and ladies. Advise me of your command, and I shall be content. You were my first master, and, please God, shall be my last. I shall be in despair if I am banished forever from your ocean, that is to say, from your infinite good grace, from your kindness and your love. For I have found in Anthony Bacon my Apollo and my Oracle.

  Jacques.

  Surely a veritable cri de cœur from Rutland. But worse was to come.

  Monseigneur,

  I beg you send for me. I cannot any longer live here among fornicators and ribald domestics. I implore you to recall me, or I shall ruin M. le Doux and his ‘ninain’ [?], who has such villainous ideas and well in tone with those of the devil. The first confesses it to me, and then the other wishes to tell me what she can. I cannot endure any more the unseemliness of those who pay me. For the friendship that I bear you I have kept quiet, again and again, and will continue to hold my tongue, provided they clear out of this honourable house.

  Your very humble and faithful

  Jacques.

  And so the letters end.

  Part Three

  14

  Whilst Jacques Petit was enduring discomfort in the household of Sir John Harington his master, Anthony Bacon, was also having some annoyance. His acquaintance Godfrey Aleyn, whom he had despatched to France as companion to the Spaniard Perez, had proved unreliable, according to reports from Perez himself. It seemed that Aleyn had been sending letters back to his father in England divulging secret matters, and one of Essex’s secretaries, Henry Wotton, was despatched to France to bring him home. On arrival in England Aleyn was immediately arrested and imprisoned in the Clink. The unfortunate man protested his innocence to Anthony in the strongest terms.

  ‘I have a suspicion,’ he said, ‘that this was purposely plotted by Signor Perez to do me some displeasure. He, seeing my unwillingness to stay with him, often told me in his anger that he would send me one day into England at my cost.’ He insisted also that he had written only on the most ordinary matters to his father, but admitted that he had also corresponded with Lord Zouche, the Queen’s ambassador in Scotland. The sequel was that Aleyn’s father was also arrested and the pair remained in the Clink, with nothing very serious proven against either, until May, when Anthony managed to have both of them released, bound over for good behaviour.

  The incident was unpleasant for Anthony, making for embarrassment in the good relations hitherto existing between Wotton and himself and also amongst the staff at Essex House. Lady Bacon’s judgement was proving sound. Jealousies and petty spite would and did occur, especially when every member of the household desired to hold first place in the Earl’s favour.

  Essex himself continued to have every confidence in Anthony, and shared something of the latter’s exasperation with Perez, whose letters were either full of complaints about his life in France or filled with flowery exaggeration of the King’s friendship for him.

  ‘What are you doing in France?’ asked the Earl. ‘You demand of us 1,000 men with cannon, powder, other things necessary, and this in order that you may possess the booty. For my own part, I see the approaching fate of both kingdoms, England threatened with a formidable war, and France by a deceitful peace.’

  To which Perez replied that if peace was indeed declared between France and Spain, then ‘all preparations would be turned against England, in order to reduce the kingdom to obedience to the see of Rome’, and furthermore he let it be known that Princess Catherine had said to him, ‘Do you desire a bishopric or a cardinal’s hat? You shall have all you want of my brother. Or would you like five, six or eight of my own Swiss guards to protect you?’

  The Spaniard was definitely getting too big for his boots, and the continual payments to him and the other agents from Anthony’s own purse were a tremendous burden. Although Mr Morrison and his stockings and beaver hats appear to have dropped out there was a new recruit to the secret service, this time in Venice. A Mr Henry Hawkins, nephew of the Speaker of the House of Commons, had offered his services the previous November, and asked for money to be sent to him regularly. Two hundred crowns were immediately forthcoming, sent by Anthony’s ‘good friend Mr Jackson’, a merchant, who had occasion to ply not only between the ports of England and France, but presumably to the Adriatic coast as well. The Spaniards, so Hawkins reported, were more and more ‘fixed in Italy’, but his snippets of local gossip about the ducal families were occasionally more colourful than useful as diplomatic intelligence: how the Duke of Mantua, for instance, was paying court to a fair widow whose husband had been drowned in the canal beneath the Rialto bridge, it was thought by the Duke’s design, and the widow would not submit to the Duke’s attentions; indeed, an unknown friend of her family had attempted to shoot the nobleman in revenge, but had only struck his hat from his head and scorched his ruff.

  Such items of intelligence might make gossip for idle pens at Twickenham, but the Earl of Essex complained of ‘their trivial nature’, and asked that Henry Hawkins should do better in future. The agent, disconcerted, told Anthony that he paid ten crowns a month for his chamber in Venice, besides his food, nor had he yet received the bill of exchange he had been promised. Further inroads, therefore, upon the Bacon private purse, and Anthony sent Hawkins 200 crowns.

  At the end of March 1596, Italian agents were forgotten in the news that Calais was being besieged by the Archduke of Austria. It was said that the sound of the gunfire could be heard at Greenwich. The Earl of Essex went to Dover to take command of forces for the relief of the French port, but it was too late; the garrison surrendered on April 10th, and Calais was in the hands of the Spaniards. The straits of Dover were all that separated the English coast from the hostile ships of Spain.

  It was evident to King Henri IV, himself at Boulogne, that had assistance from England come in time, Calais could have been saved. The Earl of Essex was well aware of this, and he and the Lord High Admiral Howard had both wished to attack the Spaniards in their own home ports, but they had been overruled in Council by the prudent Lord Treasurer and his son Sir Robert Cecil. Caution had lost Calais. Therefore de l’audace, toujours de l’audace must be the new order of the day, and Essex was determined that an offensive carried direct to the Spanish coast must take precedence over any plan to relieve Calais.