Chapel of Whitehall. Robert Carr, Viscount Rochester, now created Earl of Somerset, the King's powerful favourite, led to the altar the beautiful Lady Frances Howard, who, on the anniversary of the same saint, just ten years before, had been given away by the King in marriage to Robert Devereux, second of that name, the unhappy young Earl of Essex-a girl of thirteen married to a boy of fifteen. Contemporary historians have remarked that the Countess had the effrontery to appear at the altar in the habit of a virgin, with her beautiful hair hanging loose over her shoulders. The courtly Bishop of Bath and Wells read the beautiful service for the holy ordinance of matrimony. Ten years before he had pronounced over the same bride, as she stood with her hand in that of Essex, the solemn words, 'Those whom God hath joined, let no man put asunder;' and now, while Essex was still living, he was called upon to bless the union of the Countess with Somerset.

A sumptuous banquet succeeded; and a masque, written expressly for the occasion, in which the principal ladies of the Court took part, concluded the day. The King defrayed the expense, which had been profuse. He was even so much interested in the festivities, that, in order to direct them, he broke through his custom of going to bed in the afternoon.'

But the festivities did not end here. The courtiers vied with each other in doing honour to the newly-wedded pair. Valuable presents were offered for their acceptance. Even the Chief Justice Coke did not withhold this mark of adulation to the man whom the King delighted to honour. The City of London entertained the Earl and his bride at a splendid banquet; and those who were old enough to enjoy the pageants which followed each other in rapid succession, long remembered the magnificent wedding of the Earl of Somerset with the beautiful Frances Howard.

The marriage of Somerset was the culminating point in his prosperity. It had originated in crime, and might lead to destruction. Somerset knew that it might do so. His spirits sank, his eye lost its brightness, his step its elasticity; he became grave, thoughtful, and silent. In the words of a contemporary, Pen'siveness and fulnesse doe possesse the Earle; his wonted mirth 'forsakes him, his countenance is cast downe; he takes not that felicitie in companie as he was wont to do: but still something 'troubles him.'

The King soon began to grow weary of the company of a man who ceased to entertain him. Yet the influence of Somerset was not observed to decline, and the King as yet did not make any efforts to emancipate himself from his control, or to break with

George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.

17

his imperious favourite. But the courtiers had no such hesitation; they had no dark secrets to conceal at any price; they saw that the King had conceived a distaste to the society of Somerset, and they determined to supplant him. With this view they cast about for a handsome youth, who should captivate James's affections-now, for the first time since he had set eyes on Carr-dis engaged. An opportunity soon offered of accomplishing their purpose.

George Villiers, afterwards Duke of Buckingham, a youth of one-and-twenty, had returned at this time from the continent, bringing with him the polished and engaging manners which our rude ancestors found occasion to admire in all who visited them from foreign parts. Nature had given him a figure remarkable for symmetry and manly vigour, and he took care to set it off by the most elegant and fashionable apparel. His actions were remarkable for their perfect grace, and his countenance possessed that extraordinary beauty which, from a supposed resemblance in its sweet expression to the portraits of the saint and martyr Stephen, afterwards induced his doting master to call him Steenie.

Villiers was speedily thrown in the way of the King. James no sooner saw him than he felt for him an attachment.

The impression made by Villiers on the King was soon perceived by the courtiers, who were anxiously watching the success of their experiment. They immediately began to ingratiate themselves with the new favourite. On the 23rd of April, exactly two years after Overbury was committed to the Tower, Villiers was knighted by the King; a pension of 1000l. a-year was granted to him, and he was appointed a gentleman of the bedchamber. The new favourite soon attained that place in the monarch's affections which Robert Carr had once enjoyed, but now had lost for ever.

Somerset perceived, with deep mortification, the success of his rival, and the decline of his own influence in the King's affections, although he still retained a power over the weak mind of his sovereign. His proud spirit could ill brook a rival, and in spite of the conciliatory behaviour of Villiers, Somerset did not attempt to conceal the hatred which he felt towards the new favourite. He rejected with contempt the overtures made by Villiers to serve him, and on one occasion sharply answered him, 'I will none of your service, nor shall you have any of my 'favour. I will, if I can, break your neck, and of that be cou'fident.' This haughty answer sealed the fate of Somerset.

At this juncture Sir Robert Cotton, the confidential friend

* Sir Robert Cotton, the celebrated antiquary, was the collector of the valuable library bearing his name, and so rich in MSS., which now forms part of the treasures of the British Museum.

of Somerset, perceiving that he had lost the King's affections, and apprehensive of the consequences, prevailed on his friend to secure his safety by obtaining from James a pardon for all offences which he could or might have committed. A pardon sufficiently extensive to cover treason and murder, was actually signed by the King in favour of Somerset, but it was intercepted by his enemies before the seal was affixed, and was thus rendered nugatory.

Towards the middle of July, 1615, it began to be whispered about that Overbury had met with foul play-that he had been poisoned in the Tower. The rumour spread, and at last came to the ears of the King. We have more than one account of the way in which the murder became known at Court. Weldon's

narrative, which is confirmed as to the main facts by Wilson, the friend of Essex, and by other writers, harmonizes best with the events connected with this remarkable crime. It is to the following effect.

One day Secretary Wynwood brought to the King a letter, which he had received from Sir Wm. Thrumbull, the resident at Brussels, requesting permission to return, as he had to communicate a most important affair, which had recently come to his knowledge. The Secretary wrote, by the King's direction, to say that the agent could not be spared from his post, and to desire him to send oven an express with the news which he had to communicate. Thrumbull declined to adopt this course, stating that it was a matter of such importance and delicacy, that he did not dare commit it to paper. Upon this, James 'being,' as Sir Anthony Weldon tells us, 'of a longing disposition,' rather than not know what it was, sent him permission to return. Thrumbull soon came over, and then he informed the King that one of his servants had told him that an English lad, named Reeve, who had been an apothecary's boy in London, had told them that Sir Thomas Overbury did not, as was commonly supposed, die of a disease, but that he had been poisoned by a medicament, which the boy, under his master's direction, had administered to him. Thrumbull had immediately sent for the boy, whom he examined very closely, and at length induced him to confess the whole truth, in the course of which things came out which appeared deeply to implicate some personages of exalted rank, one of them being the great Earl of Somerset himself. The King immediately sent off a messenger for Sir Edward Coke, the Lord Chief Justice.

When Coke, or, as Weldon says, all the judges, arrived at Royston, the King flung himself on his knees, and telling them that he had just heard of the murder of Overbury, charged them

The Murder Comes Out.

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in the most solemn terms, to investigate the matter without favour, affection, or partiality, concluding thus:-'If you shall 'spare any guilty of this crime, God's curse light on you and your posterity; and if I spare any that are found guilty, God's curse light on me and my posterity for ever

!'*

Such of the facts as suited the Court were then laid before Coke, who undertook to sift the matter to the bottom. He was not only gratified at receiving any mark of the King's confidence, but he felt a real pleasure in investigating a subject of intricacy and mystery, and one which promised to afford a field for the display of the acuteness and sagacity for which he was then, and is still so celebrated. He at once commenced operations, following the hints he had received; he examined many witnesses, whose statements soon satisfied him that there had been foul play with Sir Thomas Overbury.

Coke was at one time in some doubt about the instruments of the murder, and he was originally inclined to suspect a person whom he was subsequently led to acquit. This was no other than our old acquaintance, Paul de Lobell. A gentleman named Edward Rider swore that about the commencement of the term, when rumours of the Chief Justice's inquiries began to circulate, he had met Lobell, who assured him that the report that Overbury had been murdered was untrue, that he had died of a consumption. As to the medicament with which it had been alleged he had been poisoned, that had been prescribed by Mayerne, the King's doctor, and this Mayerne was the best doctor in England. To this Rider replied that he had heard otherwise in Paris, that he was indeed a braver courtier than a doctor. Rider probably hinted at the State poisonings in France, in which Mayerne is thought to have been implicated. About a week after he again met Lobell, who was then walking with his wife; he stopped and talked to him. He told him it was too manifest now Overbury was poisoned, and added, that he heard it was done by an apothecary's boy, in Lime-street, who had since run away; upon which his wife, turning to her husband, exclaimed in French, 'Oh, mon mari, that was William you sent into France.' Whereupon the old man, looking upon his wife, his teeth did chatter as if he trembled, and then Rider asked him if he did send the boy away; he answered it was true he sent the boy to Paris, but the 'cause of his leaving was that his master (Lobell's son) treated 'him badly. Notwithstanding these strong circumstances of suspicion, which indeed operated so forcibly on the mind of Coke himself that he would not allow Lobell's examination to be taken on oath, no proceedings were taken against Lobell.

* Weldon.

Whether Coke was duped by his astute rival, Sir Francis Bacon, who was certainly at the bottom of this dark business, or whether he had received a positive injunction against following that clue, cannot now be known. Certain it is that Lobell was allowed to escape unaccused, and nothing which might criminate him was allowed to be made public. The remarkable deposition of Rider was entirely suppressed, and has only been recently discovered in the archives of the State Paper Office.

The Chief Justice was soon satisfied, or professed to be satisfied, as to the instruments of the murder, Weston and Franklin ; but when he endeavoured to go higher and detect the principals and real authors of the crime, he found himself lost and perplexed. At length, however, by dint of repeated examinations, of threats, and of objurgations, he learnt with amazement and alarm that no less a personage than the Earl of Somerset, the King's favourite, was deeply implicated. The inquiry was now assuming a very dangerous turn, and he determined not to take the responsibility alone. He therefore posted off to the King, and acquainting him with what he had learned, desired that some other persons might be joined in his commission. The King, delighted with the course of the transaction, immediately assented, and nominated the Lord Chancellor, the Lord Steward, and Lord Zouch, for that purpose. With this accession to his dignity, and diminution of individual responsibility, the Chief Justice was quite content, and plunged into the affair with an increased ardour.

Somerset was then at Royston with the King. He was induced to leave him and go up to London. The King parted from him with the most extravagant demonstrations of affection-disgusting in themselves, doubly disgusting when we know, as we do, that they were entirely false and insincere. Sir Anthony Weldon graphically describes the strange scene; he tells us, that when the Earl kissed the King's hand, the King hung about his neck, slabbering his cheeks, saying, 'For God's sake, when shall I see thee again? On my soul, I shall neither eat nor sleep till you come again! The Earl answered that he would return next Monday (this being Friday). For God's sake let me see thee then!' returned the monarch; then, as if unable to contain his raptures, exclaimed, joyfully, Shall I—shall I, indeed ?' Then, clasping the Earl in his arms, he lolled about his neck, saying, "For God's sake give thy lady this kiss for me! He repeated these endearments at the top of the stairs, and, accompanying the Earl down, also at their foot. The Earl was scarcely seated in his coach before the royal hypocrite turned round to his attendants and said, 'I shall never see his face more.'