Until the end of November (1616) the fate of the Lord Chief Justice was undecided. The Queen, to her credit, and the Prince Charles, were urgent in his behalf. And a rumour now first began to prevail that the younger brother of the favourite, Sir John Villiers, who had an appointment in the Prince’s household, was to marry Sir Edward Coke’s daughter, with a dowry of 900l. in land from her father, and 2,100l. in land from Lady Hatton, together with Lord Teynham’s office; but, in the meantime, the Lord Chief Justice was, in his fortunes, affected as it were with an “ague,” which has an alternate bad and good day.[[185]] The next report was that Coke was “quite off the hooks,” and that orders had been sent to give him a supersedeas. The jest of the day was that four P’s had lost him his place—Pride, Prohibitions, Præmunire, and Prerogative.[[186]] Shortly afterwards he was superseded, and had the mortification of knowing that Sir Henry Montagu, who was appointed in his stead, went with great pomp to Westminster Hall, accompanied by many noblemen, to the number of “fifty horse, the whole fry of the Middle Temple, and swarms of lawyers and officers.”[[187]] That was a day of triumph for Buckingham.
The character of the most famous of English lawyers rose under this unmerited injury.[[188]] He bore his misfortune with calm dignity. It is related of him that when the new Chief Justice sent to buy from him his collar of S.S., he answered that he would not part with it, but would leave it to his descendants, that they might know that one day they had a Chief Justice to their ancestor. A remarkable popularity followed his degradation. Sir Edward Coke was the first judge that had set the example of independence on the bench; and his refusing to be tampered with in the disposal of a lucrative office caused him to be regarded as a martyr. Even the King, when he intimated at the Privy Council his intention to supersede Coke, did it with a sort of half shame, declaring that he thought him “in no way corrupt, but a good justice,” and adding “as many compliments as if he had meant to hang him with a silken halter.”[halter.”][[189]] Such was the corruption of the times, such the utter want of all honourable principle, that it was well known that, had Coke been wise enough to take advantage of the proposed match between his daughter and Sir John Villiers, “he would have been that day Lord Chancellor.” His avarice had been the impediment to that marriage. A dowry of 10,000l. had been asked with his daughter—he had offered 10,000 marks, and “he had stuck at 1,000l. a year during his life,” letting fall certain idle words, that he would not buy the King’s favour too dear, “being so uncertain and variable.”[[190]]
The public were at no loss, as Lord Campbell remarks, to account for the disgrace of Coke, when they knew that his successor, before accepting his office, was obliged to bind himself to dispose of the chief clerkship for the benefit of Buckingham, and when they saw two trustees for Buckingham admitted to the place as soon as the new Chief Justice was sworn in.
Such had been the state of affairs before James and Villiers set out for Scotland; during their absence, the world was alternately amused and disgusted by the proceedings of Sir Edward Coke and his lady, regarding the match proposed between Sir John Villiers and their daughter.
This celebrated judge was peculiarly unhappy in his domestic life. Lady Elizabeth Hatton, his second wife, the sister of Thomas Burleigh, Earl of Exeter, and the widow of Sir Thomas Hatton, had brought him, along with a large fortune, the unpleasant acquisition of a partner violent, litigious, and unscrupulous[unscrupulous]. The very commencement of the inauspicious nuptials had been attended with trouble, the parties subjecting themselves to many inconveniencies from the irregularity of their marriage, which took place in a private house, without bans[bans] or licence. From the moment that the knot was tied, Coke found in this new connection nothing but misery. Neither in private nor in public could his wife and he abstain from the sharpest contentions.
Their daughter—that object which should most surely have cemented a union—soon proved a new source of the bitterest feuds.
When Buckingham was in Scotland, an overture was made to him on the part of Sir Edward Coke, relating to the marriage of his youngest daughter to Sir John Villiers, the elder brother of the favourite. The proposal was made through Secretary Winwood, the friend of Coke, and was, at first, eagerly accepted by Buckingham; but, although it had these good auspices, there were obstacles which prevented its favourable course.
One of these was the dislike of the young lady to her appointed suitor, who was diseased, and troubled with a humour in his legs, and accounted not a long-lived man; so that, as was observed by Mr. Chamberlain, “there needed so much ado to get him a wife.” Another was the jealousy of Lady Hatton. Incensed that her husband should dare to dispose of her daughter without her consent, she carried her off, and secreted her in the house of Sir Edmund Withipole, near Oatlands, in Surrey. From that retreat, the young lady was removed to the residence of Archibald, seventh Earl of Argyle, near Hampton Court.
Lady Hatton immediately hired a lodging in the town of Kingston; whence she was permitted to visit her daughter, but not to sleep under the same roof with her. “She kept her, however,” observes a contemporary writer, “such company, that none else could have access to her.”[[191]] This access was moderated, and her creatures, whom she had employed to take her daughter away, were questioned and committed. Finding herself forsaken by her friends, “who dared not show themselves too far in the business, and seeing,” adds the same authority, “that she struggled in vain, Lady Hatton began to come about.” At this juncture, Buckingham interfered. He wrote a letter which calmed the fury: she returned him an answer, “that if this way had been taken with her at first, they might have proceeded better.”[[192]] Her husband was, however, now incensed beyond control. He procured a warrant from Secretary Winwood, and fetched away his daughter from Hampton Court, exceeding, indeed, the terms of his warrant, for he is said to have broken open the doors of the house to obtain her. Lady Hatton was quickly engaged in pursuit of him; and “had not her coach tired,” as it is related, “there would soon have been strange tragedies.”[[193]]
Coke then conveyed his daughter to the care of Lady Compton Villiers, but the next day the clerk of the council was sent to take the custody of her, in his own house. The affair was heard before the Privy Council, when a violent contention amused the indifferent spectators, and aggravated the hatred of the parties concerned. Lady Hatton, in her vehemence, is said to have declaimed with a force worthy of Burbage, then the most popular actor of the day. At last, after much wrangling, a reconciliation was effected. Lady Hatton was induced, upon some conditions, to double the portion which her husband had offered, “and to make up the match and give it her blessing.” Lady Compton Villiers and her sons repaired to Kingston, where they remained two or three days, “which,” adds the writer, “makes the world think they grow to conclusion.” The fact was, that finding she had no power to resist, Lady Hatton thought proper to give in with a good grace; thus commanding better terms with Coke than a further resistance would have procured, “and so,” adds Mr. Chamberlain, “defeat her husband’s purposes, towards whom, of late, she had carried herself very strangely, neither like a wife nor a wise woman.”[[194]]