Alas for the Lord Keeper. He had barely eighteen months left in which to dwell on the memory of that great occasion, and to pace up and down the long gallery at Gorhambury. The image of death had preoccupied him during the plague year when the boys were home, and when he was endeavouring to arrange a marriage for Anthony. He saw himself lying, not at St Michael’s by St Albans, but in St Paul’s Cathedral, and with the Dean’s compliance sent workmen to start building his tomb as early as 1574. On September 11th 1577 he made his will, and followed it up with another on December 23rd a year later.

  January came in bitterly cold, with heavy falls of snow continuing until the end of the month. This was followed by a sudden thaw in February. The third week, it being warmer than usual, the Lord Keeper, installed for the winter at York House, desired his barber, who was shaving him, to open wide the windows. The man obeyed, and presently left his master seated in a chair, dozing. Waking some time later he found a current of fresh air blowing in upon him, and himself sweaty cold.

  ‘Why,’ said he to his servant, ‘did you suffer me to sleep thus exposed?’

  ‘I durst not presume to disturb you,’ replied the barber.

  ‘Then,’ answered the Lord Keeper, ‘by your civility I lose my life.’

  He was carried to his bedchamber, and within a few days, on February 20th, he was dead. The morning he was taken ill Francis, in Paris, awoke from a shattering dream that he was standing before his home in Gorhambury to find it plastered all over with black mortar. The sense of foreboding did not leave him, and when a messenger from England arrived to see the ambassador Sir Amias Paulet, he knew what dread news had been brought. Several days later he returned to London, bringing a dispatch from the ambassador to the Queen in which Sir Amias stated that Francis was ‘endued with many good and singular parts, and if God gave him life, would prove a very able and sufficient subject to do her Highness good and acceptable service’.

  On the morning of March 9th 1579 a crowd assembled outside York House by Charing Cross. The house was swathed in black, the curtains were draped at the windows, and black bays were hanging all round the outer courtyard. Black valances covered the widowed Lady Bacon’s bed, and perfumed rushes were strewn upon the floor. It was now seventeen days since the two physicians, the two surgeons and the Queen’s chandler had performed the necessary services. Staff from Redgrave, where the eldest son Nicholas Bacon and his wife and family resided, were in attendance, as well as Nathaniel and his household from Stiffkey in Norfolk, and the staff from Gorhambury and the other properties in Hertfordshire. The bells from St Martin-in-the-Fields tolled throughout the day, and from St Paul’s Cathedral likewise. The tomb wherein the Lord Keeper was to be laid was next to that of John of Gaunt, ‘time-honoured Lancaster’, by the express desire of the dead man.

  The chief mourners were his brother-in-law Lord Treasurer Burghley (for whom twelve yards of black cloth had been ordered in the will), Mr Secretary Walsingham (who received eight yards of cloth), the Master of the Rolls, the Attorney-General, the Solicitor-General, the Master of the Queen’s Jewel House, Sir Thomas Gresham, and brothers-in-law William Cooke and Henry Killigrew. Accompanying these personages were the five sons of the Lord Keeper, Nicholas, Nathaniel, Edward (only lately returned from the continent), Anthony and Francis. His daughters-in-law, his three daughters by his first marriage (all married by now), and the gentlewoman in attendance upon the widow had all been provided with mourning garments in the will. But they did not form part of the funeral procession to St Paul’s. Only the widow, mounted upon a horse draped in black, followed the cortège.

  The Lord Keeper’s household comprised some seventy persons: the steward, the seal bearer, the sergeant-at-arms, the treasurer, auditor, receiver, secretary—these were all senior officers. There were yeomen officers in charge of cellar, pantry, kitchen, wardrobe, chamber, hall and lodge. Then came the lesser servants, cleaners, grooms, and so on.

  The procession went by horse and foot up the Strand and Fleet Street. At the head were sixteen beadles, whose function was to clear the street. Then came sixty-eight poor men, who had been given mourning cloth for the purpose and a shilling each for dinner, their number being the same as the Lord Keeper’s age. The household followed, and then the mourning relatives and friends. The Lord Keeper’s helm and crest, sword and coat-of-arms were carried before the hearse, escorted by four heralds. Last came the sons, mounted, with the widow.

  In St Paul’s Cathedral all was draped in black, pulpit, arches and communion table, while the tomb of John of Gaunt, the Lord Keeper’s companion in death, had been boarded up for the ceremony to prevent damage.

  So finally Nicholas Bacon, son of a yeoman sheep-farmer in Suffolk, was laid to rest, having served under four monarchs and given a lifetime of service to the Crown. His widow knew that public life for her was finished. She must quit York House, dismiss her London staff and retire to Gorhambury with her son Anthony, there to watch over him and see that he managed his estate in the way she desired. Francis, just eighteen, with two and a half years’ experience in diplomatic circles and a distaste for the society he had encountered at the French Court—apart from the poets and painters he had met, and the historical associations with places such as Blois, Tours and Poitiers—knew, as his father’s bier was borne before him, that there had been little or no provision made for him in the will, which was so drawn up that he must depend on his mother and his brother Anthony; and he knew also, as certainly as he had seen his home covered with black mortar in his dream, that one day, many years hence, he too would become Lord Keeper, he would wear the robes of Lord Chancellor, he would live once again at York House where he had been born, his retinue surpassing even that of his father, and no obstruction, no jealousy or envy, should stand in his way when his moment of power came.

  And Anthony… Soon to be twenty-one, heir to estates in Hertfordshire and Middlesex, inheritor of Gorhambury after his mother’s death—though she was to enjoy it for her lifetime—harassed, preached at, cosseted through babyhood and boyhood, Anthony had no long-term vision of the future, no dream of fame or fortune in years to come. All that mattered was that finally, at last, he need listen no longer to duty, to filial conscience; he too would travel, he too would see the world, the present was his, to seize, to have and to hold.

  4

  Anthony does not appear to have left England until the late autumn of 1579 at the earliest. He had to settle his mother at Gorhambury with a greatly reduced staff and visit his other properties, the manors that belonged to him and those he held on lease. He appointed his father’s faithful elderly steward, Hugh Mantell, in charge of all rents, and one of the first difficulties was a disagreement between himself and his half-brother Nathaniel about the valuable leasehold property of Pinner Park, in Middlesex, which under their father’s will had been left to Anthony. Nathaniel disputed this, and insisted that it should have been his by right of seniority. The tenant was one William Burbage, whose brother Robert had sold the manor of Theobalds to Lord Treasurer Burghley. Anthony had no desire to involve himself in litigation with Nathaniel, and before he left England he put matters in the hands of his uncle, the Lord Treasurer.

  It was to his uncle, too, that he had applied for permission to travel abroad, and to the Secretary of State, Sir Francis Walsingham, who had been a good friend of the Lord Keeper’s. Walsingham, who had been ambassador in Paris prior to Paulet, was an ardent Puritan: indeed, it was said that he was a fanatical Calvinist, and a ruthless persecutor of all Catholics. He hoped to see the Protestant cause triumph everywhere in Europe. ‘I wish first God’s glory, and next the Queen’s safety,’ he would say, and soon after he became Secretary of State he began to organise an extremely efficient secret service on the continent, involving foreign agents in France, Italy, Spain and the Low Countries, as well as Englishmen travelling abroad. When Anthony Bacon expressed his wish to go overseas Walsingham was very satisfied that the young man, raw as he was to foreign travel, and without great experience of the world outside Cambridge and Hertfordshire, would nevertheless, in due course, prove his mettle.

  Farewells were said, Lady Bacon warning her son against those Catholic influences which she insisted were everywhere on the continent, and in Paris in particular. There might be Jesuits concealed in his bed-curtains, for he would not be lodged with the ambassador as Francis had been. Francis, for his part, instructed his brother to be cool and politic with both factions, to be intimate with neither, and above all to watch his purse, with which Anthony had ever been too ready, casting largesse about him to all and sundry, whether in Cambridge, Hertfordshire or Gray’s Inn.

  Sir Amias Paulet had by now been recalled, and his place had been taken by Sir Edward Stafford, whose marriage to the widowed Lady Sheffield had just taken place. The new Lady Stafford was notorious as having been the Earl of Leicester’s mistress for a number of years—indeed, she had borne him a son whom he did not disown—and here was further reason why Anthony was warned not to stay close to diplomatic circles. Lady Stafford’s hatred for her former lover, the Earl of Leicester—still close to the Queen despite his amours with other ladies—was so intense that unwary talk and gossip might filter back to the English Court, and young Englishmen abroad for the first time might find themselves implicated against their better judgement. Lady Stafford was also said to have strong leanings towards Catholicism.

  So Anthony Bacon sailed for France, accompanied, it would seem, by one or two attendants, their status something between that of an actual servant and an assistant secretary. It was the custom, when touring the continent, to surround oneself with a small retinue, and the son of the late Lord Keeper would doubtless have lost face amongst his fellow-countrymen if he had not travelled with his own modest household.

  The first intimation that the staff left behind at Gorhambury were missing their young master comes in a letter from one of them, Thomas Cotheram, under-steward to Hugh Mantell, written apparently in March 1580.

  My duty always remembered, most loving master. I know you would gladly hear of your house Gorhambury, and I have written to you three or four times and never heard from you again. My Lady doth take to your house very well and hath great care to repair it where it is needful, and it doth lack nothing but you to come home and dwell there yourself and I would to God it might be so. My Lady doth think you will come home in debt and therefore you shall have the felling of the trees in your woods to set you out of debt. Your water-mill is well and when it is out of repair the plumber doth come presently to mend it. There is nobody here doth so much miss you as I do. Neither I nor my wife, and though I say it myself, never have broken your commandment and that was we should pray for your prosperous journey and your happy return again every night and every morning upon our knees, and I am persuaded that the Lord hath heard and shall hear our prayers still. I hope you do not nor need fear my Lady’s marriage for truly she is as far of that as when you departed from her, nor never none came to her for that, as far as I can hear of, and if it do you shall hear of it by me as soon as I can send you word, but I hope to God there shall be no such action yet. I pray you, sir, come home as soon as you can, it is good to doubt the worst ever. Mistress Tutes doth send you hearty conn [?], John Bruer your poor servant the like, Nicholas of the kitchen the like, and John Cotles the like.

  Your poor servant to command as long as life doth last in all your affairs,

  Thomas Cotheram.

  I pray you, sir, to do my wife’s conn and mine to Master Brigennes and to George.

  (The latter was almost certainly George Jenkyll, whose name appears in a later letter.)

  A fortune-seeker after his mother and the Gorhambury estate was not the least of Anthony’s worries. He remembered his aunt Elizabeth Hoby and her subsequent marriage to Lord John Russell; and although Lady Bacon at fifty-two was hardly one to cast a coy eye on prospective suitors, she might fall prey to one of pronounced Puritan tendencies, perhaps even a preacher of slender means.

  Meanwhile, trouble was brewing in Paris. Open-hearted and generous, as was his nature, and anxious to show himself friendly to Protestants and Catholics alike, Anthony had cultivated the acquaintance of a somewhat notorious Welsh Catholic, Dr William Parry, who a few years previously had been involved in a theft, and possibly a murder, in the Inner Temple. Lord Treasurer Burghley had obtained Parry’s pardon from the Queen and sent him to Europe as a secret agent. Anthony’s half-brother Edward had been at Gray’s Inn when Parry had made his break-in, and had been full of it at the time, so Anthony knew well with whom he was dealing when he struck up his acquaintance with the Welshman. Possibly he hoped to win his spurs as go-between in Walsingham’s secret service, but if so this first attempt was unfortunate. The knowledge that he had lent Parry the considerable sum of £20 came to the ears of the Earl of Leicester, who had his own spies in Paris to sniff out what they could to the discredit of anyone employed there; not only because his ex-mistress was the wife of Edward Stafford, but because he had a personal dislike of the Lord Treasurer, Anthony’s uncle Lord Burghley. Whispers of indiscretion spread, the Queen was informed, and it took all Burghley’s tact and persuasion to reassure the monarch that his nephew was completely trustworthy and loyal, and a firm supporter of the Protestant faith. Indeed, many years later Anthony told his aunt Elizabeth that he had only been acting under Burghley’s instructions.

  The immediate sequel is intriguing, for Anthony was evidently summoned back to London to give an account of himself. On December 29th 1580 his uncle Sir Henry Killigrew wrote to a former secretary who was at that time on a mission abroad, ‘I received your packet when I had half-a-dozen couple of good fellows with me at dinner, among which were Mr Astley, Mr Randall, Master Henry Knowles, my nephew Anthony Bacon and my brother William Cooke, who were gladdened by your good news. Thanks for your friendly mention of my nephew. Pray use him in all things as a common servant; he should be kept with a hard hand.’ Anthony, however, managed to evade the supervision of his uncle’s ex-secretary, and on his return to France went straight to the university city of Bourges, capital of the ancient province of Berry. Here he wrote to his uncle Burghley, the Lord Treasurer, on January 14th 1581.

  Right honourable very good Lord,

  Being arrived here the 15th of December, I thought it my duty to certify your lordship thereof. Two or three days ago it was my good hap to receive divers letters from my friends in England, and few of the letters failed to mention your Lordship’s honourable and fatherly dealing with me. All joined in one, that if ever poor gentleman had cause to honour and esteem so fatherly a friend, I should be very unthankful if I should not judge myself to be as much bound to your Lordship as possibly I may be. There is nothing in me which is not yours, and I am unable to offer your Lordship any other duty or service than plain confession that your Lordship hath power to dispose of me at your pleasure.

  There is small doubt that the Lord Treasurer had saved his nephew from what could have been an awkward scrape. Anthony continued by thanking his uncle for his assistance in the thorny problem of the lease of Pinner Park, which was still in dispute: William Burbage, the tenant, who continued to occupy the premises and farm, was a difficult man, forever engaged in litigation, and some few years later he entered into a lawsuit about another house, this time at Stratford-upon-Avon, with one John Shakespeare. Anthony ended his letter,

  With my hearty praise to God for your Lordship’s happiness and contentment, I most humbly take my leave.

  Your Lordship’s most humble to command,

  Anthony Bacon.

  University life in Bourges was very different from the more sheltered confines of Trinity, Cambridge, and Anthony, despite his twenty-three years, was shocked. He found the manners corrupt and the spirit of the people irreligious, and wrote to Sir Francis Walsingham to tell him so. At least, this was his excuse for wishing to move on elsewhere. Besides, the air did not agree with him. He felt ill.

  Walsingham, with his vast experience of human nature, and knowing more about Anthony Bacon than Anthony Bacon realised, replied with words of excellent advice. ‘The number of evil-disposed in mind is greater than the number of sick in body; and as the mind is infinite, so is the infection that cometh from the mind. Many that are far off, are very much inflamed by the heat of that fire. Then they, that are nigh, cannot but burn unless they have some very extraordinary preservation, surpassing the nature of the salamander.’

  Anthony, disconcerted, pondered on his meaning. The words were obscure, but plainer ones were to follow.

  ‘I have been informed you too easily and too often give yourself to the taking of physic, a thing which as I have by experience found hurtful in myself, when I was of your years, so you shall find in time many incommodities, if you do not break it off. Your years will better wear out any little indisposition, by good order of exercise and abstinence, with some other little moderation in diet, than abide to be corrected by physic, the use of which altereth nature much, yea, maketh a new nature, if it be without great cause used in younger years.’

  Avoid the flames of corruption, then, lest like the salamander he should be burnt. And away too with pills and potions, and take more exercise, instead of strumming upon his lute.

  Anthony decided to follow the example of his half-brother Edward, who, when he travelled abroad, had sought sanctuary for some time in the more salubrious air of Geneva under the roof of the eminent theologian Théodore Beza, the greatest exponent of the Reformed faith since Calvin himself. Calvin, in fact, had died in Beza’s arms. Beza was a Frenchman by birth, and had originally studied law. Conversion came to him after a severe illness, and his first act after seeing the light was to put his own house in order by marrying his mistress. Thereafter he became Calvin’s adjutant, settled in Geneva in 1558, and after the great Reformer’s death in 1564 became virtually his successor. A prolific writer, his Latin version of the New Testament was known in London, and young Anthony Bacon was doubly welcome in his household not only as half-brother to the likeable Edward but also as the son of the learned Lady Bacon, whose twenty-five sermons from the Italian had been read by all the faithful in Geneva.