kly you shall deal with
my lord," he writes elsewhere, "not only in disclosing particulars, but
in giving him _caveats_ and admonishing him of any error which in this
action he may commit (such is his lordship's nature), the better he will
take it." "He must have seemed," says Mr. Spedding, a little too
grandly, "in the eyes of Bacon like the hope of the world." The two men,
certainly, became warmly attached. Their friendship came to be one of
the closest kind, full of mutual services, and of genuine affection on
both sides. It was not the relation of a great patron and useful
dependant; it was, what might be expected in the two men, that of
affectionate equality. Each man was equally capable of seeing what the
other was, and saw it. What Essex's feelings were towards Bacon the
results showed. Bacon, in after years, repeatedly claimed to have
devoted his whole time and labour to Essex's service. Holding him, he
says, to be "the fittest instrument to do good to the State, I applied
myself to him in a manner which I think rarely happeneth among men;
neglecting the Queen's service, mine own fortune, and, in a sort, my
vocation, I did nothing but advise and ruminate with myself ... anything
that might concern his lordship's honour, fortune, or service." The
claim is far too wide. The "Queen's service" had hardly as yet come much
in Bacon's way, and he never neglected it when it did come, nor his own
fortune or vocation; his letters remain to attest his care in these
respects. But no doubt Bacon was then as ready to be of use to Essex,
the one man who seemed to understand and value him, as Essex was
desirous to be of use to Bacon.

And it seemed as if Essex would have the ability as well as the wish.
Essex was, without exception, the most brilliant man who ever appeared
at Elizabeth's Court, and it seemed as if he were going to be the most
powerful. Leicester was dead. Burghley was growing old, and indisposed
for the adventures and levity which, with all her grand power of ruling,
Elizabeth loved. She needed a favourite, and Essex was unfortunately
marked out for what she wanted. He had Leicester's fascination, without
his mean and cruel selfishness. He was as generous, as gallant, as quick
to descry all great things in art and life, as Philip Sidney, with more
vigour and fitness for active life than Sidney. He had not Raleigh's
sad, dark depths of thought, but he had a daring courage equal to
Raleigh's, without Raleigh's cy