THE SPEECHES* DRAWN UP BY MR. FRANCIS BACON FOR THE EARL OF ESSEX, IN A DEVICEt EXHIBITED BY HIS LORDSHIP BEFORE QUEEN ELIZABETH, ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HER ACCESSION TO THE THRONE, NOVEMBER 17, 1595. THE SQUIRE'S SPEECH. MOST excellent and most glorious queen, give me leave, I beseech your majesty, to offer my master's complaint and petition; complaint that, coming hither to your majesty's most happy day, he is tormented with the importunity of a melancholy, dreaming hermit, a mutinous, brain-sick Bishop Gibson's Papers, vol. v., No. 118. + An account of this device, which was much applauded, is given by Mr. Rowland Whyte to Sir Robert Sydney, in a letter dated at London, Saturday, the 22d of November, 1595, and printed in the Letters and Memorials of State of the Sydney Family, vol. i., p. 362. According to this letter, the Earl of Essex, some considerable time before he came himself into the Tilt-yard, sent his page with some speech to the queen, who returned with her majesty's glove; and when his lordship came himself, he was met by an old hermit, a secretary of state, a brave soldier, and an esquire. The first presented him with a book of meditations; the second with political discourses; the third with orations of bravely fought battles; the fourth was his own follower, to whom the other three imparted much of their purpose before the earl came in. "Another," adds Mr. Whyte, "devised with him, persuading him to this and that course of life, according to their inclinations. Comes into the Tilt-yard unthought upon, the ordinary postboy of London, a ragged villain, all bemired, upon a poor lean jade, galloping and blowing for life, and delivered the secretary a packet of letters, which he presently offered my Lord of Essex. And with this dumb show our eyes were fed for that time. In the after-supper, before the queen, they first delivered a well penned speech to move this worthy knight to leave his following of love, and to betake him to heavenly meditation; the secretaries all tending to have him follow matters of state; the soldiers persuading him to the war: but the squire answered them all, and concluded with an excellent, but too plain, English, that this knight would never forsake his mistress's love, whose virtue made all his thoughts divine; whose wisdom taught him all true policy; whose beauty and worth were at all times able to make him fit to command armies. He showed all the defects and imperfections of all their times; and, therefore, thought his course of life to be best in serving his mistress." Mr. Whyte then mentions, that the part of the old hermit was performed by him, who, at Cambridge, played that of Giraldi; that Morley acted the secretary; and that the soldier was represented by him who acted the pedant, and that Mr. Tobie Matthew was the squire. "The world," says Mr. Whyte, "makes many untrue constructions of these speeches, comparing the hermit and the secretary to two of the lords; and the soldier to Sir Roger Williams. But the queen said, that if she had thought there had been so much said of her, she would not have been there that night;' and so went to bed." soldier, and a busy, tedious secretary. His petition is, that he may be as free as the rest; and, at least, while he is here, troubled with nothing but with care how to please and honour you. THE HERMIT'S SPEECH IN THE PRESENCE. THOUGH Our ends be diverse, and therefore may be one more just than another; yet the complaint of this squire is general, and therefore alike unjust against us all. Albeit he is angry, that we offer ourselves to his master uncalled, and forgets we come not of ourselves, but as the messengers of self-love, from whom all that comes should be well taken. He saith, when we come, we are importunate. If he mean, that we err in form, we have that of his master, who, being a lover, useth no other form of soliciting. If he will charge us to err in matter, I, for my part, will presently prove that I persuade him to nothing but for his own good. For I wish him to leave turning over the book of fortune, which is but a play for children; when there be so many books of truth and knowledge, better worthy the revolving; and not fix his view only upon a picture in a little table, when there be so many tables of histories, yea, to life, excellent to behold and admire. Whether he believe me or no, there is no prison to the prison of the thoughts, which are free under the greatest tyrants. Shall any man make his conceit, as an anchor, mured up with the compass of one beauty or person, that may have the liberty of all contemplation? Shall he exchange the sweet travelling through the universal variety, for one wearisome and endless round or labyrinth? Let thy master, squire, offer his service to the muses. It is long since they received any into their court. They give alms continually at their gate, that many come to live upon; but few they have ever admitted into their palace. There shall he find secrets not dangerous to know; sides and parties not factious to hold; precepts and commandments 2Y 2 533 not penal to disobey. The gardens of love, wherein he now placeth himself, are fresh to-day, and fading to-morrow, as the sun comforts them, or is turned from them. But the gardens of the muses keep the privilege of the golden age; they ever flourish, and are in league with time. The monuments of wit survive the monuments of power. The verses of a poet endure without a syllable lost, while states and empires pass many periods. Let him not think he shall descend; for he is now upon a hill, as a ship is mounted upon the ridge of a wave; but that hill of the muses is above tempests, always clear and calm; a hill of the goodliest discovery that man can have, being a prospect upon all the errors and wanderings of the present and former times. Yea, in some cliff it leadeth the eye beyond the horizon of time, and giveth no obscure divinations of times to come. So that if he will indeed lead vitam vitalem, a life that unites safety and dignity, pleasure and merit; if he will win admiration without envy; if he will be in the feast, and not in the throng; in the light, and not in the heat; let him embrace the life of study and contemplation. And if he will accept of no other reason, yet because the gift of the muses will enworthy him in love, and where he now looks on his mistress's outside with the eyes of sense, which are dazzled and amazed, he shall then behold her high perfections and heavenly mind with the eyes of judgment, which grow stronger by more nearly and more directly viewing such an object. THE SOLDIER'S SPEECH. SQUIRE, the good old man hath said well to you; but I dare say, thou wouldst be sorry to leave to carry thy master's shield, and to carry his books: and I am sure thy master had rather be a falcon, a bird of prey, than a singing bird in a cage. The muses are to serve martial men, to sing their famous actions; and not to be served by them. Then hearken to me. of games are but counterfeits and shadows; and when, in a lively tragedy, a man's enemies are sacrificed before his eyes to his fortune. Then, for the dignity of military profession, is it not the truest and perfectest practice of all virtues ? of wisdom, in disposing those things, which are most subject to confusion and accident; of justice, in continual distributing rewards; of temperance, in exercising of the straightest discipline; of fortitude, in toleration of all labours and abstinence from effeminate delights; of constancy, in bearing and digesting the greatest variety of fortune. So that when all other places and professions require but their several virtues, a brave leader in the wars must be accomplished with all. It is the wars, that are the tribunal seat, where the highest rights and possessions are decided; the occupation of kings, the root of nobility, the protection of all estates. And, lastly, lovers never thought their profession sufficiently graced, till they have compared it to a warfare. All that in any other profession can be wished for, is but to live happily: but to be a brave commander in the field, death itself doth crown the head with glory. Therefore, squire, let thy master go with me; and though he be resolved in the pursuit of his love, let him aspire to it by the noblest means. For ladies count it no honour to subdue them with their fairest eyes, which will be daunted with the fierce encounter of an enemy. And they will quickly discern a champion fit to wear their glove from a page not worthy to carry their pantofle. Therefore, I say again, let him seek his fortune in the field, where he may either lose his love, or find new argument to advance it. THE STATESMAN'S SPEECH. SQUIRE, my advice to thy master shall be as a token wrapped up in words; but then will it show itself fair, when it is unfolded in his actions. To wish him to change from one humour to another, were but as if, for the cure of a man in pain, one should advise him to lie upon the other side, but not enable him to stand on his feet. If from a sanguine, delightful humour of love, he turn to a melancholy, retired humour of contemplation, or a It is the war that giveth all spirits of valour, not only honour, but contentment. For mark, whether ever you did see a man grown to any honourable commandment in the wars, but, whensoever he gave it over, he was ready to die with melancholy? Such a sweet felicity is in that turbulent, boiling humour of the wars; what doth noble exercise, that he, that hath tasted it thoroughly, is distasted for all other. And no marvel; for if the hunter takes such solace in his chase; if the matches and wagers of sport pass away with satisfaction and delight; if the looker on be affected with pleasure in the representation of a feigned tragedy; think what contentment a man receiveth, when they, that are equal to him in nature, from the height of insolency and fury are brought to the condition of a chased prey; when a victory is obtained, whereof the victories he but change tyrants? Contemplation is a dream; love a trance; and the humour of a war is raving. These be shifts of humour, but no reclaiming to reason. I debar him not studies nor books, to give him stay and variety of conceit, to refresh his mind, to cover sloth and indisposition, and to draw to him from those that are studious, respect and commendation. But let him beware, lest they possess not too much of his time; that they abstract not his judgment from present experience, nor make him presume upon knowing est and best, that every thing may seem to be carried by his direction. To conclude, let him be true to himself, and avoid all tedious reaches of state, that are not merely pertinent to his particular. And if he will needs pursue his affection, and go on his course, what can so much advance him in his own way? The merit of war is too outwardly glorious to be inwardly grateful; and it is the exile of his eyes, which, looking with such affection upon the picture, cannot but with infinite contentment behold the life. But when his mistress shall perceive, that his endeavours are become a true support of her, a discharge of her care, a watchman of her person, a scholar of her wisdom, an instrument of her operation, and a conduit of her virtue; this, with his diligences, accesses, humility, and patience, may move him to give her further degrees and approaches to her favour. So that I conclude, I have traced him the way to that, which hath been granted to some few amare et sapere, to love and be wise. THE REPLY OF THE SQUIRE. much, to apply the less. For the wars, I deny | event. And ever rather let him take the side which him no enterprise, that shall be worthy in great- is likeliest to be followed, than that which is soundness, likely in success, or necessary in duty; not mixed with any circumstance of jealousy, but duly laid upon him. But I would not have him take the alarm from his own humour, but from the occasion; and I would again he should know an employment from a discourting. And for his love, let it not disarm his heart within, as it make him too credulous to favours, nor too tender to unkindnesses, nor too apt to depend upon the heart he knows not. Nay, in his demonstration of love, let him not go too far; for these seely lovers, when they profess such infinite affection and obligation, they tax themselves at so high a rate, that they are ever under arrest. It makes their service seem nothing, and every cavil or imputation very great. But what, Squire, is thy master's end? If to make the prince happy he serves, let the instructions to employ men, the relations of ambassadors, the treaties between princes, and actions of the present time, be the books he reads; let the orations of wise princes, or experimented counsellors in council or Parliament, and the final sentences of grave and learned judges in weighty and doubtful causes, be the lecturers he frequents. Let the holding of affection with confederates without charge, the frustrating of the attempts of enemies without battles, the entitling of the crown to new possessions without show of wrong, the filling of the prince's coffers without violence, the keeping of men in appetite without impatience, be the inventions he seeks out. Let policy and matters of state be the chief, and almost the only thing, he intends. But if he will believe Philautia, and seek most his own happiness, he must not of them embrace all kinds, but make choice, and avoid all matter of peril, displeasure, and charge, and turn them over to some novices, that know not manacles from bracelets, nor burdens from robes. For himself, let him set for matters of commodity and strength, though they be joined with envy. Let him not trouble himself too laboriously to sound into any matter deeply, or to execute any thing exactly; but let himself make himself cunning rather in the humours and drifts of persons, than in the nature of business and affairs. Of that it sufficeth to know only so much, as may make him able to make use of other men's wits, and to make again a smooth and pleasing report. Let him entertain the proposition of others, and ever rather let him nave an eye to the circumstances, than to the matter itself; for then shall he ever seem to add somewhat of his own; and, besides, when a man doth not forget so much as a circumstance, men do think his wit doth superabound for the substance. In his councils let him not be confident; for that will rather make him obnoxious to the success; but let him follow the wisdom of oracles, which uttered that which might ever be applied to the WANDERING hermit, storming soldier, and hollow statesman, the enchanting orators of Philautia, which have attempted by your high charms to turn resolved Erophilus into a statue deprived of action, or into a vulture attending about dead bodies, or into a monster with a double heart; with infinite assurance, but with just indignation, and forced patience, I have suffered you to bring in play your whole forces. For I would not vouchsafe to combat you one by one, as if I trusted to the goodness of my breath, and not the goodness of my strength, which little needeth the advantage of your severing, and much less of your disagreeing. Therefore, first, I would know of you all what assurance you have of the fruit whereto you aspire. You, father, that pretend to truth and knowledge, how are you assured that you adore not vain chimeras and imaginations? that in your high prospect, when you think men wander up and down, that they stand not indeed still in their place, and it is some smoke or cloud between you and them, which moveth, or else the dazzling of your own eyes? Have not many, which take themselves to be inward counsellors with nature, proved but idle believers, which told us tales, which were no such matter? And, soldier, what security have you for these victories and garlands which you promise to yourself? Know you not of many, which have made provision of laurel for the victory, and have been fain to exchange it with cypress for the funeral? of many which have bespoken fame to sound their triumphs, and have been glad to pray her to say nothing of them, and not to discover them in their flights? bondman to Philautia, you, that presume to bind occasion, and to overwork fortune, I would ask you but one question. Did ever any lady, hard to please, or disposed to exercise her lover, enjoin him so good tasks and commandments as Philautia exacteth of you? While your life is nothing but a continual acting upon a stage; and that your mind must serve your humour, and yet your outward person must serve your end; so as you carry in one person two several servitudes to contrary masters. But I will leave you to the scorn of that mistress whom you undertake to govern; that is, to fortune, to whom Philautia hath bound you. And yet, you commissioner of Philautia, I will proceed one degree farther: if I allowed both of your assurance, and of your values, as you have set them, may not my master enjoy his own felicity; and have all yours for advantage? I do not mean, that he should divide himself in both pursuits, as in your feigning tales towards the conclusion you did yield him; but because all these are in the hands of his mistress more fully to bestow, than they can be attained by your addresses, knowledge, fame, fortune. For the muses, they are tributary to her majesty for the great liberties they have enjoyed in her kingdom, during her most flourishing reign; in thankfulness whereof, they have adorned and accomplished her majesty with the gifts of all the sisters. What library can present such a story of great actions, as her majesty carrieth in her Corrupt statesman, you that think, by your engines and motions, to govern the wheel of fortune; do you not mark, that clocks cannot be long in temper? that jugglers are no longer in request when there tricks and sleights are once perceived? Nay, do you not see, that never any man made his own cunning and practice (without religion and moral honesty) his foundation, but he overbuilt himself, and in the end made his house a windfall? But give ear now to the comparison of my master's condition, and acknowledge such a difference, as is betwixt the melting hailstone and the solid pearl. Indeed it seemeth to depend, as the globe of the earth seemeth to hang in the air; but yet it is firm and stable in itself. It is like a cube, or a die-form, which, toss it or throw it any way, it ever lighteth upon a square. Is he denied the hopes of favours to come? He can resort to the remembrance of contentments past. Destiny cannot repeal that which is past. Doth he find the acknowledgment of his affection small? He may find the merit of his affection the greater. Fortune cannot have power over that which is within. Nay, his falls are like the falls of Antæus; they renew his strength. His clouds are like the clouds of harvest, which make the sun break forth with greater force. His wanes are changes like the moon's, whose globe is all light towards the sun, when it is all dark towards the world; such is the excellency of her nature, and of his estate. At-royal breast by the often return of this happy tend, you beadsman of the muses, you take your pleasure in a wilderness of variety; but it is but of shadows. You are as a man rich in pictures, medals, and crystals. Your mind is of the water, which taketh all forms and impressions, but is weak of substance. Will you compare shadows with bodies, picture with life, variety of many beauties with the peerless excellency of one? the element of water with the element of fire? And such is the comparison between knowledge and love. Come out, man of war; you must be ever in noise. You will give laws, and advance force, and trouble nations, and remove landmarks of Kingdoms, and hunt men, and pen tragedies in blood; and, that which is worst of all, make all the virtues accessary to bloodshed. Hath the practice of force so deprived you of the use of reason, as that you will compare the interruption of society with the perfection of society? the conquest of bodies with the conquest of spirits? the terrestrial fire, which destroyeth and dissolveth, with the celestial fire, which quickeneth and giveth life? And such is the comparison between the soldier and the lover. day? What worthy author, or favourite of the muses, is not familiar with her? Or what language, wherein the muses have used to speak, is unknown to her? Therefore the hearing of her, the observing of her, the receiving instructions from her, may be to Erophilus a lecture exceeding all dead monuments of the muses. For fame, can all the exploits of the war win him such a title, as to have the name of favoured and selected servant of such a queen? For fortune, can any insolent politique promise to himself such a fortune, by making his own way, as the excellency of her nature cannot deny to a careful, obsequious, and dutiful servant? And if he could, were it equal honour to obtain it by a shop of cunning, as by the gift of such a hand? Therefore Erophilus's resolution is fixed: he renounceth Philautia, and all her enchantments. For her recreation, he will confer with his muse; for her defence and honour he will sacrifice his life in the wars, hoping to be embalmed in the sweet odours of her remembrance. To her service will he consecrate all his watchful endeavours, and will ever bear in his heart the picture of her beauty; in his actions, of her will; and in his And as for you, untrue politique, but truest fortune, of her grace and favour. REMEMBRANCES FOR THE KING, BEFORE HIS GOING INTO SCOTLAND. MAY IT PLEASEe your Majesty, It is true I cannot foresee any such case of such sion of some great offenders, or the adjournment ALTHOUGH your journey be but as a long pro-sudden necessity, except it should be the apprehengress, and that your majesty shall be still within your own land, and therefore any extraordinary course neither needful, nor, in my opinion, fit; yet, nevertheless, I thought it agreeable to my duty and care of your service to put you in mind of those points of form, which have relation, not so much to a journey into Scotland, as to an absence from your city of London for six months, or to a distance from your said city near three hundred miles, and that in an ordinary course; wherein I lead myself by calling to consideration what things there are that require your signature, and may seem not so fit to expect sending to and fro; and therefore to be supplied by some precedent warrants. First, your ordinary commissions of justice, of assizes, and the peace, need not your signature, but pass of course by your chancellor. And your commissions of lieutenancy, though they need your signature, yet, if any of the lieutenants should die, your majesty's choice and pleasure may be very well attended. Only I should think fit, under your majesty's correction, that such of your lord lieutenants as do not attend your person were commanded to abide within their countries respectively. For grants, if there were a longer cessation, I think your majesty will easily believe it will do no hurt. And yet if any be necessary, the continual despatches will supply that turn. That which is chiefly considerable is proclamations, which all do require your majesty's signature, except you leave some warrant under your great seal to your standing council here in London. Also my lord chancellor's age and health is such as it doth not only admit, but require the accident of his death* to be thought of, which may fall in such a time as the very commissions of ordinary justice beforementioned, and writs, which require present despatch, cannot well be put off. Therefore your majesty may be pleased to take into consideration, whether you will not have such a commission as was prepared about this time twelvemonth in my lord's extreme sickness, for the taking of the seal into custody, and for the seal of writs and commissions for ordinary justice, till you may advise of a chancellor or keeper of the great seal. Your majesty will graciously pardon my care, which is assiduous; and it is good to err in caring even rather too much than too little. These things, for so much as concerneth forms, ought to proceed from my place, as attorney, unto which you have added some interest in matter, by making me of your privy council. But for the main they rest wholly in your princely judgment, being well informed; because miracles are ceased, though admiration will not cease while you live. Endorsed, February 21, 1616. ACCOUNT OF COUNCIL BUSINESS. FOR remedy against the infestation of pirates, than which there is not a better work under heaven, and therefore worthy of the great care his majesty hath expressed concerning the same, this is done: First, Sir Thomas Smith* hath certified in * Of Biborough in Kent, second son of Thomas Smith, of Ostenhanger, of that county, Esq. He had farmed the customs in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and was sent by King James I. ambassador to the court of Russia, in March, 1601; from whence returning, he was made governor of the society of merchants trading to the East Indies, Muscovy, the French and Summer Islands; and treasurer for the colony and comVOL. II.-68 writing, on the behalf of the merchants of London, that there will be a contribution of twenty thousand pounds a year, during two years' space, towards the charge of repressing the pirates; pany of Virginia. He built a magnificent house at Deptford, which was burnt on the 30th of January, 1618; and in April, 1619, he was removed from his employments of governor and treasurer, upon several complaints of frauds committed by him. * He died at the age of seventy, on the 15th of March, 1616-7, having resigned the great seal on the third of that month; which was given on the 7th to Sir Francis Bacon. 537 |