The history of the unworthy favourites whom James I. of England raised
to a power so extravagant, has always been surrounded with a tragic
mystery. One of them, Buckingham, was stabbed by an assassin; the
other, Somerset, was condemned to death for murder. The extravagant
dignities and emoluments heaped on these unworthy men, are utterly
beyond the belief of those who live under the constitutional
government of the present day. Nor was it enough that they obtained
the highest titles in the peerage, and large grants out of the public
money; they were rewarded in a manner still more dangerous to the
public welfare, by being invested with the great, responsible offices
of state, which were thus held by young men totally inexperienced,
instead of responsible and capable ministers. Of course, they
distributed all the inferior offices among their relations and
connections; and a witty annalist of the day describes the children of
the reigning favourite's kindred as swarming about the palaces, and
skipping up and down the back-stairs like so many fairies. They had
been raised in early youth from a humble condition to this dazzling
elevation, and it was only too much in accordance with the frailty of
human nature that they should lose head--feel as if they were under no
responsibility to their fellow-men--and, as Shakspeare says, 'play
such fantastic tricks before high Heaven, as make the angels weep.'
Such rapid and ill-founded prosperity never lasts; and generally he
who has ascended like a blazing rocket, tumbles to the earth like its
charred and blackened socket.
Carr, afterwards made Earl of Somerset, was a raw Scotch youth,
without education or training, when he was first brought under the
notice of the king by chancing to have his leg broken in the royal
presence in an attempt to mount a fiery horse. When once taken into
favour, the king did not care whom he offended, or what injustice he
did, to enrich the fortunate youth. When he was besought to spare the
heritage of the illustrious and unfortunate Raleigh, he said
peevishly: 'I mun have it for Carr--I mun have it for Carr!' The
favourite desired to have for his wife the Lady Frances Howard, who
had been married to the Earl of Essex. The holiest bonds must be
broken to please him, and the marriage was shamefully dissolved. This
did no great injury, indeed, to Essex. The union had been one entirely
of interest, contracted when both were mere children. He was the same
Essex who afterwards figured in the civil war--a grave, conscientious,
earnest man, who could have had little sympathy with a woman so giddy
and unprincipled. She suited better with the profligate Somerset; but
had it not been that the king's favourite demanded it to be dissolved,
the original union would have been held sacred.
Great court pageants and festivities hailed the marriage of Carr with
the divorced Lady Essex, and the proudest of England's nobility vied
with each other in doing honour to the two vile persons thus
unpropitiously united. The chief-justice, Coke, and the illustrious
Bacon, bowed in the general crowd before their ascendancy. It has been
maintained that Ben Jonson, in his rough independence, refused to
write a masque for the occasion of these wicked nuptials; but this has
been denied; and it is said, that the reason why his works contain no
avowed reference to the occasion, is because they were not published
until Somerset's fall. The event took place in 1613: three years
afterwards, the same crowd of courtiers and great officers were
assembled in Westminster Hall, to behold the earl and countess on
their trial for murder.
Sir Thomas Overbury, a man of great talent, who lived, like many other
people of that period, by applying his capacity to state intrigues,
had been committed to the Tower at the instigation of Somerset. He
died there suddenly; and a suspicion arose that he had been poisoned
by Somerset and his countess. A curious account of the transactions
which immediately followed, has been preserved in a work called _A
Detection of the State and Court of England during the last Four
Reigns_. It is the more curious, as the author, Roger Coke, was a
grandson of Sir Edward, the great chief-justice, who was a principal
actor in the scene. The king was at Royston, accompanied by Somerset,
when it appears that Sir Ralph Winwood informed his majesty of the
suspicions that were abroad against the favourite. The king
immediately determined to inform Coke; but it is feared that the
determination arose not from a desire to execute strict justice, but
because another favourite, George Villiers, who afterwards became Duke
of Buckingham, had already superseded Somerset in the king's esteem.
A message was immediately despatched to Sir Edward Coke, who lived in
the Temple. He was in bed when it arrived, and his son, even for one
who came in the king's name, would not disturb him; 'For I know,' he
said, 'my father's disposition to be such, that if he be disturbed in
his sleep, he will not be fit for any business; but if you will do as
we do, you shall be welcome; and about two hours hence my father will
rise, and you may then do as you please.' This was at one o'clock of
the morning. Precisely at three, a little bell rang, announcing that
the most laborious and profound lawyer whom England has ever produced,
had begun the toilsome business of the day. It was his practice to go
to bed at nine in the evening, and wake at three, and, in every other
detail of his life, he pursued this with clock-work uniformity. When
he saw the papers laid before him by the messenger, he immediately
granted a warrant against Somerset, on a charge of murder.
The favourite, little knowing what a pitfall had been dug in his
seemingly prosperous path, was still at Royston, enjoying the most
intimate familiarity with the king, when the messenger returned.
Deception was so much of an avowed principle with King James, and was
so earnestly supported by him, as one of the functions and arts of
kingcraft, that in his hands it almost lost its treacherous character,
and assumed the appearance of sincerity. He held that a king who acted
openly and transparently, neglected his duty, as the vicegerent of the
Deity; and that, for the sake of good government and the happiness of
his people, he was bound always to conceal his intentions under false
appearances, or, when necessary, under false statements. Somerset was
sitting beside the king, whose hand rested familiarly on his shoulder,
when the warrant was served on him. The haughty favourite frowned, and
turned to his master with an exclamation against the insolence of
daring to arrest a peer of the realm in the presence of his sovereign.
But the king gave him poor encouragement, pretending to be very much
alarmed by the power of the chief-justice, and saying: 'Nay, man, if
Coke were to send for _me_, I must go.' Somerset was obliged to
accompany the messenger. The king, still keeping up his hypocrisy,
wailed over his departure--pathetically praying that their separation
might not be a long one. It was said by the bystanders, that when
Somerset was out of hearing, he was heard to say: 'The deil go wi'
thee--I shall never see thy face more.'
The earl and countess were formally indicted before their peers on a
charge of murder. It is now that the mystery of the story begins. It
has never appeared clearly what motive they could have had for
murdering Sir Thomas Overbury, and the evidence against them is very
indistinct and incoherent; yet the countess confessed, and her husband
was found guilty. It was attempted to be shewn, that Overbury had
opposed the divorce of the Earl and Countess of Essex, and so had done
his best to prevent the union of the favourite with the lady; but
whatever opposition he had offered had been overcome; and it is
difficult to suppose the revengeful passions so gratuitously
pertinacious as to produce a deep assassination-plot from such a
cause. So far as one can judge from the extremely disjointed notices
of the evidence in the _State Trials_ and elsewhere, it was very
inconclusive. Sir Thomas certainly died of some violent internal
attack. Other persons had been forming plans to poison him, and
apparently were successful. The connection of these persons with the
earl and countess was, however, faint. They were in communication with
Overbury, and it is true some mysterious expressions were used by
them--such as the lady saying to some one, that her lord had written
to her how 'he wondered things were not yet despatched,' and such-like
expressions. Then there was a story about the conveyance from the
countess of 'a white powder,' intended as a medicine for Sir Thomas,
and subsequently of some tarts. As to the latter, there was a letter
from the countess to the lieutenant of the Tower, saying: 'I was bid
to bid you say, that these tarts came not from me;' and again, 'I was
bid to tell you, that you must take heed of the tarts, because there
be letters in them, and therefore neither give your wife nor children
of them, but of the wine you may, for there are no letters in it.'
Through Somerset's influence, Sir W. Wade had been superseded as
lieutenant of the Tower, and Sir Jervis Elwes appointed. It was said,
that this was done for the purpose of having better opportunity for
committing the murder. Elwes in his examination, however, hinted at
the more commonplace crime of bribery as the cause of his elevation.
'He saith Sir T. Monson told him that Wade was to be removed, and if
he succeeded Sir W. Wade, he must bleed--that is, give L.2000.' To
bleed is supposed, when so employed, to be a cant term of modern
origin. It is singular how many of these terms, supposed to be quite
ephemeral, are met with in old documents. 'Bilking a coachman' occurs
in a trial of the reign of Charles II.--that of Coal for the murder of
Dr Clench. In an important part of the trial of Somerset there occurs
another cant word: it is in the speech of Sir Randal Crew, one of the
king's sergeants, against the accused. He represents the ghost of
Overbury apostrophising his murderers in this manner: 'And are you
thus fallen from me, or rather are you thus heavily fallen upon me to
overthrow--to oppress him thus cruelly, thus treacherously, by whose
vigilance, counsel, and labour, you have attained your honourable
place, your estimation in the world for a worthy and well-deserving
_gent._?' After using this now well-known slang expression, the
learned sergeant continues to say: 'Have I not waked, that you might
sleep; cared, that you might enjoy? Have not I been the cabinet of
your secrets, which I did ever keep faithfully, without the loss of
any one to your prejudice; but by the officious, trusty, careful, and
friendly use of them, have gained unto you a sweet and great interest
of honour, love, reputation, wealth, and whatsoever might yield
contentment and satisfaction to your desires? Have I done all this, to
suffer this thus by you, for whom I have so lived as if my sand came
in your hour-glass?'
This, though it does not divulge the secret of these strange
proceedings, brings us apparently on their scent. It appears that
Overbury had acted as the tutor and prompter of Somerset as a
statesman. There is an expression sometimes used in politics at the
present day, when an inexperienced person, who has the good-fortune to
rise to some high office which he has not sufficient knowledge to
administer, seeks instruction and guidance from some veteran less
fortunate. He is then said to be put to nurse with him. A young ensign
under training by a veteran sergeant is a good instance of this.
Somerset, raw, uneducated, and untrained, had for his nurse as a
courtier and politician the accomplished but less fortunate Sir Thomas
Overbury. In the course of this function, Overbury could not fail to
acquire some state secrets. It is supposed to have been on account of
his possession of these secrets that Somerset poisoned him. But the
affair goes further still, for we find that the king was much alarmed
for himself on the occasion--was very anxious that the whole position
of matters between Somerset and Overbury should not come out in the
trial; and gave ground for the obvious inference, that whatever
secrets there might be, his majesty was as deeply interested in their
being kept as any one.
It was evident that the countess had been prevailed on to confess, and
that the utmost pains had been used to get Somerset himself to follow
her example, though, much to the king's vexation, he held out, and
rendered a trial necessary. On this trial, however, there was nothing
like satisfactory evidence--the peers were prepared to convict, and
they did so on a few trifling attestations, which gave them a
plausible excuse for their verdict. The illustrious Bacon aided the
king in his object. He had on other occasions shewn abject servility
to James--using towards him such expressions of indecorous flattery as
these: 'Your majesty imitateth Christ, by vouchsafing me to touch the
hem of your garment.' He was attorney-general, and had in that
capacity to conduct the prosecution. Seeing distinctly the king's
inclination, he sent a letter to him, praying, 'First, that your
majesty will be careful to choose a steward [meaning a lord
high-steward to preside at the trial in the House of Lords] of
judgment, that will be able to moderate the evidence, and _cut off
digressions_; for I may interrupt, but I cannot silence; the other,
that there may be special care taken for ordering the evidence, not
only for the knitting but the list, and, to use your majesty's own
words--the _confining_ of it. This to do, if your majesty vouchsafe to
direct it yourself, that is the best; but if not, I humbly pray you to
require my lord chancellor, that he, together with my lord
chief-justice, will confer with myself and my fellows that shall be
used for the marshalling and _bounding_ of the evidence, that we may
have the help of his opinion, as well as that of my lord
chief-justice; whose great travails as I much commend, yet this same
_pleropluria_, or overconfidence, doth always subject things to a
great deal of chance.'
The full significance of these cautious expressions about confining
and bounding the evidence, was not appreciated until the discovery of
some further documents, relating to this dark subject, a few years
ago. The expressions were then found to correspond with others,
equally cautious, in Bacon's correspondence. Thus he talks of
supplying the king with pretexts that 'might satisfy his honour for
sparing the earl's life;' and in another place he says: 'It shall be
my care so to moderate the matter of charging him, as it might make
him not odious beyond the extent of mercy.'
The drift of all this is, in the first place, that as little of the
real truth as possible should be divulged in the trial, and that Bacon
and others should manage so as to let out enough to get a conviction
and no more; hence the evidence is so fragmentary and unsatisfactory,
that none but a tribunal prepared to be very easily satisfied could
have formed any conclusion from it. In the second place, it was the
king's object that Somerset should be assured all along that his life
would be spared. The object of this certainly was to prevent him, in
his despair, from uttering that secret, whatever it was, about which
the king was so terribly alarmed. The reader may now expect some
further elucidation of this part of the mystery.
In Sir Anthony Weldon's _Court and Character of King James_ (p. 36),
we have the following statement in reference to the trial:--
'And now for the last act, enters Somerset himself on the stage,
who being told (as the manner is) by the lieutenant, that he must
go next day to his trial, did absolutely refuse it, and said they
should carry him in his bed; that the king had assured him he
should not come to any trial--neither _durst_ the king bring him
to trial. This was in a high strain, and in a language not well
understood by Sir George Moore, then lieutenant in Elwes's
room--that made Moore quiver and shake. And however he was
accounted a wise man, yet he was near at his wits' end.' This
conversation had such an effect on the lieutenant, that though it
was twelve o'clock at night, he sped instantly to Greenwich, to
see the king. Then he 'bownseth at the back-stair, as if mad;'
and Loweston, the Scotch groom, aroused from sleep, comes in
great surprise to ask 'the reason of that distemper at so late a
season.' Moore tells him, he must speak with the king. Loweston
replies: 'He is quiet'--which, in the Scottish dialect, is fast
asleep. Moore says: 'You must awake him.' We are then told that
Moore was called in, and had a secret audience. 'He tells the
king those passages, and requires to be directed by the king, for
he was gone beyond his own reason to hear such bold and undutiful
expressions from a faulty subject against a just sovereign. The
king falls into a passion of tears: "On my soul, Moore, I wot not
what to do! Thou art a wise man--help me in this great straight,
and thou shalt find thou dost it for a thankful master;" with
other sad expressions. Moore leaves the king in that passion, but
assures him he will prove the utmost of his wit to serve his
majesty--and was really rewarded with a suit worth to him
L.1500.'
Moore returned to his prisoner, and told him, 'he had been with the
king, found him a most affectionate master unto him, and full of grace
in his intentions towards him; but,' he continued, 'to satisfy
justice, you must appear, although you return instantly again without
any further proceedings--only you shall know your enemies and their
malice, though they shall have no power over you.' Somerset seemed
satisfied; but Weldon states, that Moore, to render matters quite
safe, set two men, placed one on each side of Somerset during his
trial, with cloaks hanging on their arms, 'giving them withal a
peremptory order, if that Somerset did anyway fly out on the king,
they should instantly hoodwink him with that cloak, take him violently
from the bar, and carry him away--for which he would secure them from
any danger, and they should not want also a bountiful reward. But the
earl finding himself overreached, recollected a better temper, and
went calmly on his trial, when he held the company until seven at
night. But who had seen the king's restless motion all that day,
sending to every boat he saw landing at the bridge, cursing all that
came without tidings, would have easily judged all was not right, and
there had been some grounds for his fears of Somerset's boldness; but
at last one bringing him word that he was condemned, and the passages,
all was quiet.'
Weldon solemnly states, that he obtained all these facts from Moore's
own lips. He was, however, a sarcastic, discontented writer; and being
what was called an upstart, he was supposed to have a malice against
kings and courts. For such reasons as these, his narrative was
distrusted until its fundamental character, at all events, was
confirmed by the late discovery of a bundle of letters addressed by
the king to Sir George Moore. The bundle was found carefully wrapped
up, and appropriately endorsed, in the repositories of Sir George's
descendant. The letters will be found printed in the eighteenth volume
of the _Archæologia_, or transactions of the English Antiquarian
Society. The following brief extracts from them may suffice for the
present occasion--the spelling is modernised:--
'GOOD SIR GEORGE--I am extremely sorry that your unfortunate
prisoner turns all the great care I have of him not only against
himself, but against me also, as far as he can. I cannot blame
you that ye cannot conjecture what this may be, for God knows it
is only a trick of his idle brain, hoping thereby to shift his
trial; but it is easy to be seen, that he would threaten me with
laying an aspersion upon me of being in some sort accessory to
his crime.... Give him assurance in my name, that if he will yet,
before his trial, confess cheerily unto the commissioners his
guiltiness of this fact, I will not only perform what I promised
by my last messenger both towards him and his wife, but I will
enlarge it, according to the phrase of the civil law, &c. I mean
not, that he shall confess if he be innocent, but ye know how
evil likely that is; and of yourself ye may dispute with him what
should mean his confidence now to endure a trial, when, as he
remembers, that this last winter he confessed to the
chief-justice that his cause was so evil likely as he knew no
jury could acquit him. Assure him, that I protest upon my honour
my end in this is for his and his wife's good. Ye will do well,
likewise, of yourself, to cast out unto him, that ye fear his
wife shall plead weakly for his innocency; and that ye find the
commissioners have, ye know not how, some secret assurance that
in the end she will confess of him--but this must only be as from
yourself.'
That there was some secret of the divulgence of which the king was in
the utmost terror, is thus beyond a doubt. What, then, was it? There
are no means of deciding. James, it will be seen, hints to Moore, that
it was a charge of accession to the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury.
But, in the same letter, James lets us see that Moore himself did not
know the exact secret; and we may fairly conjecture, that the hint was
intended to put him on a wrong scent.
The earl and countess were permitted to live, spending a miserable
existence with the fear of punishment hanging over them. The accounts
given of the condition into which the once beautiful and too
fascinating woman fell, are too disgusting to be repeated. There were
many other proceedings connected with the charges for poisoning Sir
Thomas Overbury, which throw a curious light on the habits of the
court, and especially on the criminal attempts to get rid of rivals
and enemies by poison and sorcery. They may perhaps form a suitable
subject for a separate paper.