If the fate that overtook Frances Howard and Rochester, and with them
Anne Turner and many another, is to be properly understood, a brief word
on the political situation in England at this time will be needed--or,
rather, a word on the political personages, with their antagonisms.
Next in closeness to the King's ear after Rochester, and perhaps more
trusted as a counsellor by that "wise fool," there had been Robert
Cecil, Lord Salisbury, for a long time First Secretary of State. But
about the time when Lady Essex finally parted with her husband Cecil
died, depriving England of her keenest brain and the staunchest heart
in her causes. If there had been no Rochester the likeliest man in the
kingdom to succeed to the power and offices of Cecil would have been the
Earl of Northampton, uncle of Lord Suffolk, who was the father of Lady
Essex. Northampton, as stated, held the office of Lord Privy Seal.
The Howard family had done the State great service in the past. Its
present representatives, Northampton and Suffolk, were anxious to do
the State great service, as they conceived it, in the future. They were,
however, Catholics in all but open acknowledgment, and as such were
opposed by the Protestants, who had at their head Prince Henry. This was
an opposition that they might have stomached. It was one that they might
even have got over, for the Prince and his father, the King, were not
the best of friends. The obstacle to their ambitions, and one they found
hard to stomach, was the upstart Rochester. And even Rochester would
hardly have stood in their way had his power in the Council depended on
his own ability. The brain that directed Robert Carr belonged to another
man. This was Sir Thomas Overbury.
On the death of Cecil the real contenders for the vacant office of First
Secretary of State--the highest office in the land--were not the wily
Northampton and the relatively unintelligent Rochester, but the subtle
Northampton and the quite as subtle, and perhaps more spacious-minded,
Thomas Overbury. There was, it will be apprehended, a possible weakness
on the Overbury side. The gemel-chain, like that of many links, is
merely as strong as its weakest member. Overbury had no approach to the
King save through the King's favourite. Rochester could have no real
weight with the King, at least in affairs of State, except what he
borrowed from Overbury. Divided, the two were powerless. No, more than
that, there had to be no flaw in their linking.
The wily Northampton, one may be certain, was fully aware of this
possible weakness in the combination opposed to his advancement. He
would be fully aware, that is, that it was there potentially; but when
he began, as his activities would indicate, to work for the creation
of that flaw in the relationship between Rochester and Overbury it is
unlikely that he knew the flaw had already begun to develop. Unknown to
him, circumstance already had begun to operate in his favour.
Overbury was Rochester's tutor in more than appertained to affairs of
State. It is more than likely that in Carr's wooing of Lady Essex he
had held the role of Cyrano de Bergerac, writing those gracefully turned
letters and composing those accomplished verses which did so much to
augment and give constancy to her ladyship's love for Rochester. It is
certain, at any rate, that Overbury was privy to all the correspondence
passing between the pair, and that even such events as the supplying by
Forman and Mrs Turner of that magic powder, and the Countess's use of it
upon her husband, were well within his knowledge.
While the affair between his alter ego and the Lady Essex might be
looked upon as mere dalliance, a passionate episode likely to wither
with a speed equal to that of its growth, Overbury, it is probable,
found cynical amusement in helping it on. But when, as time went on,
the lady and her husband separated permanently, and from mere talk of a
petition for annulment of the Essex marriage that petition was presented
in actual form to the King, Overbury saw danger. Northampton was
backing the petition. If it succeeded Lady Essex would be free to marry
Rochester. And the marriage, since Northampton was not the man to give
except in the expectation of plenty, would plant the unwary Rochester
on the hearth of his own and Overbury's enemies. With Rochester in the
Howard camp there would be short shrift for Thomas Overbury. There would
be, though Rochester in his infatuation seemed blind to the fact, as
short a shrift as the Howards could contrive for the King's minion.
In that march of inevitability which marks all real tragedy the road
that is followed forks ever and again with an 'if.' And we who, across
the distance of time, watch with a sort of Jovian pity the tragic
puppets in their folly miss this fork and that fork on their road
of destiny select, each according to our particular temperaments, a
particular 'if' over which to shake our heads. For me, in this story of
Rochester, Overbury, Frances Howard, and the rest, the point of tragedy,
the most poignant of the issues, is the betrayal by Robert Carr of
Overbury's friendship. Though this story is essentially, or should be,
that of the two women who were linked in fate with Rochester and his
coadjutor, I am constrained to linger for a moment on that point.
Overbury's counsel had made Carr great. With nothing but his good looks
and his personal charm, his only real attributes, Carr had been no more
than King James's creature. James, with all the pedantry, the laboured
cunning, the sleezy weaknesses of character that make him so detestable,
was yet too shrewd to have put power in the hands of the mere minion
that Carr would have been without the brain of Overbury to guide him.
Of himself Carr was the 'toom tabard' of earlier parlance in his native
country, the 'stuffed shirt' of a later and more remote generation. But
beyond the coalition for mutual help that existed between Overbury
and Carr, an arrangement which might have thrived on a basis merely
material, there was a deep and splendid friendship. 'Stuffed shirt' or
not, Robert Carr was greatly loved by Overbury. Whatever Overbury may
have thought of Carr's mental attainments, he had the greatest faith in
his loyalty as a friend. And here lies the terrible pity in that 'if' of
my choice. The love between the two men was great enough to have saved
them both. It broke on the weakness of Carr.
Overbury was aware that, honestly presented, the petition by Lady Essex
for the annulment of her marriage had little chance of success. But for
the obstinacy of Essex it might have been granted readily enough. He
had, however, as we have seen, forced her to live with him as his wife,
in appearance at least, for several months in the country. There now
would be difficulty in putting forward the petition on the ground of
non-consummation of the marriage.
It was, nevertheless, on this ground that the petition was brought
forward. But the non-consummation was not attributed, as it might have
been, to the continued separation that had begun at the altar; the
reason given was the impotence of the husband. Just what persuasion
Northampton and the Howards used on Essex to make him accept this
humiliating implication it is hard to imagine, but by the time the
coarse wits of the period had done with him Essex was amply punished in
ridicule for his primary obstinacy.
Sir Thomas Overbury, well informed though he usually was, must have been
a good deal in the dark regarding the negotiations which had brought the
nullity suit to this forward state. He had warned Rochester so frankly
of the danger into which the scheme was likely to lead him that they had
quarrelled and parted. If Rochester had been frank with his friend, if,
on the ground of their friendship, he had appealed to him to set aside
his prejudice, it might well have been that the tragedy which ensued
would have been averted. Enough evidence remains to this day of
Overbury's kindness for Robert Carr, there is enough proof of the man's
abounding resource and wit, to give warrant for belief that he would
have had the will, as he certainly had the ability, to help his
friend. Overbury was one of the brightest intelligences of his age. Had
Rochester confessed the extent of his commitment with Northampton there
is little doubt that Overbury could and would have found a way whereby
Rochester could have attained his object (of marriage with Frances
Howard), and this without jeopardizing their mutual power to the Howard
menace.
In denying the man who had made him great the complete confidence which
their friendship demanded Rochester took the tragically wrong path
on his road of destiny. But the truth is that when he quarrelled with
Overbury he had already betrayed the friendship. He had already embarked
on the perilous experiment of straddling between two opposed camps. It
was an experiment that he, least of all men, had the adroitness to bring
off. He was never in such need of Overbury's brain as when he aligned
himself in secret with Overbury's enemies.
It is entirely probable that in linking up with Northampton Rochester
had no mind to injure his friend. The bait was the woman he loved.
Without Northampton's aid the nullity suit could not be put forward, and
without the annulment there could be no marriage for him with Frances
Howard. But he had no sooner joined with Northampton than the very
processes against which Overbury had warned him were begun. Rochester
was trapped, and with him Overbury.
For the success of the suit, in Northampton's view, Overbury knew too
much. It was a view to which Rochester was readily persuaded; or it was
one which he was easily frightened into accepting. From that to joining
in a plot for being rid of Overbury was but a step. Grateful, perhaps,
for the undoubted services that Overbury had rendered him, Rochester
would be eager enough to find his quondam friend employment. If that
employment happened to take Overbury out of the country so much the
better. At one time the King, jealous as a woman of the friendship
existing between his favourite and Overbury, had tried to shift the
latter out of the way by an offer of the embassy in Paris. It was an
offer Rochester thought, that he might cause to be repeated. The idea
was broached to Overbury. That shrewd individual, of course, saw through
the suggestion to the intention behind it, but he was at a loss for an
outlet for his talents, having left Rochester's employ, and he believed
without immodesty that he could do useful work as ambassador in Paris.
Overbury was offered an embassy--but in Muscovy. He had no mind to bury
himself in Russia, and he refused the offer on the ground of ill-health.
By doing this he walked into the trap prepared for him. Northampton had
foreseen the refusal when he promoted the offer on its rearranged terms.
The King, already incensed against Overbury for some hints at knowledge
of facts liable to upset the Essex nullity suit, pretended indignation
at the refusal. Overbury unwarily repeated it before the Privy Council.
That was what Northampton wanted. The refusal was high contempt of the
King's majesty. Sir Thomas Overbury was committed to the Tower. He might
have talked in Paris, or have written from Muscovy. He might safely do
either in the Tower--where gags and bonds were so readily at hand.
Did Rochester know of the springe set to catch Overbury? The answer
to the question, whether yes or no, hardly matters. Since he was gull
enough to discard the man whose brain had lifted him from a condition in
which he was hardly better than the King's lap-dog, he was gull enough
to be fooled by Northampton. Since he valued the friendship of that
honest man so little as to consort in secret with his enemies, he was
knave enough to have been party to the betrayal. Knave or fool--what
does it matter? He was so much of both that, in dread of what Sir Thomas
might say or do to thwart the nullity suit, he let his friend rot in the
Tower for months on end, let him sicken and nearly die several times,
without a move to free him. He did this to the man who had trusted him
implicitly, a man that--to adapt Overbury's own words from his last
poignant letter to Rochester--he had "more cause to love... yea, perish
for.. . rather than see perish."
It is not given to every man to have that greater love which will make
him lay down his life for a friend, but it is the sheer poltroon and
craven who will watch a friend linger and expire in agony without
lifting a finger to save him. Knave or fool--what does it matter when
either is submerged in the coward?