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 THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 FBANCIS, LOKD BACON. 
 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BACONS BIRTH, CHILDHOOD, AND EABLY YOUTH. 
 
 Francis Bacon, afterwards Baron Verulam and 
 Viscount St. Albans, Lord High Chancellor of 
 England, was born at York House, in the Strand, 
 London, on the 22nd January, 1561. 1 
 
 One of the profoundest essayists upon human 
 nature has thus classified the agencies that are at 
 work in the formation of individual character: — 
 " We may regard our past life as a continued though 
 
 1 It may here be desirable to observe, once for all, that for the sake 
 of uniformity with the calendar of the greater part of Europe, an act of 
 parliament was passed, in 1751, for the adoption of the new style in all 
 public and legal transactions ; and, as one of the results, the commence- 
 ment of the legal year was changed from the 25th of April to the 1st of 
 January. This will account for a frequent difference between the dates 
 of this memoir and those of the earlier biographies of Lord Bacon. 
 For example, Bawley states that Bacon was born on the 22nd of 
 January, 1560 ; whereas, according to the new style, we should say 
 1561. 
 
2 bacon's bibth, childhood, 
 
 irregular course of education; and the discipline 
 has consisted of instruction, companionship, reading, 
 and the diversified influences of the world." 1 This 
 is most true, looking, in general, at the entire of a 
 man's life ; but its truth is still more evident when 
 we confine our study to the development of a man's 
 youth. His mind is then so plastic, that scarcely 
 any force can be brought to bear upon it, without 
 imprinting some line, or moulding it into some 
 peculiarity of form. "When, therefore, we aim to 
 estimate an individual's history, it becomes us to 
 revert back to the period when he was most im- 
 pressible, and to inquire into the mental and moral 
 atmosphere which he breathed at the earliest ; into 
 the habits which he was invited to contract, by 
 precept and example ; and into the range of thought 
 and its associations in which he was called first to 
 expatiate. 
 
 It is for this reason that we propose, before 
 entering more immediately on the life of Lord Bacon, 
 to take a survey of that home in which he first drew 
 his breath, and the spirit and thoughts of which 
 first met his sensibilities and his intellect. We shall 
 then have to visit the university where his budding- 
 manhood was cherished, and then the foreign court 
 to which he afterwards repaired; and thus strive 
 to ascertain some of the most important impressions 
 which were likely to have been made upon him 
 
 l Foster's Essays, "On a Man's Writing Memoirs of Himself." 
 Letter 11. 
 
AXD EA£LY DATS. 6 
 
 during his immaturity. How important this is for 
 our biography will appear hereafter. 
 
 First, of that home, and of the being who, at 
 the hearthstone, is the presiding earthly spirit to the 
 child — the mother. She was the second daughter of 
 Sir Anthony Cooke, a man distinguished for his 
 learning and his virtues. He had been tutor to 
 king Edward yi, and on the death of his royal and 
 exemplary pupil, became a fugitive from the per- 
 secution of queen Mary, but returned to England 
 on the accession of queen Elizabeth, and died at 
 his own seat in 1576, old in years and honours. 
 Lady Bacon was preeminent for her attainments. 
 As was then the case with ladies of her station, she 
 had been thoroughly educated in the Greek and Latin 
 languages, as well as in the Italian ; and we may judge 
 of her proficiency from the facts, that she corre- 
 sponded in Greek with bichop Jewel, translated his 
 " Apology" from the Latin, with a version so faithful 
 and elegant that he would not alter one syllable, 1 and 
 published in English five and twenty sermons, all 
 from the Tuscan of Bernardo Ochino, on Predestina- 
 tion and Eree "Will. Moreover, so illustrious was 
 she for her religious character, as well as for her 
 learning, that the eminent and pious Theodore Beza 
 dedicated to her his " Meditations." 
 
 Then, next in influence over his childhood came 
 his father, Sir Nicholas Bacon. Eor more than twenty 
 years he held the great seal of England ; and such 
 
 1 Strype, Parker, vol. i. p. 354, etc. 
 
4 BACON S BIETH, CHILDHOOD, 
 
 were his vast legal abilities, such his political wisdom, 
 that he was universally acknowledged as second only 
 to the great Cecil in the state. There are monuments 
 still existing at Cambridge to prove his earnest sym- 
 pathy with letters ; and his unvarying fidelity to the 
 Eeformation during the perilous times of Queen 
 Mary, and amidst the miserable vacillation of so 
 many of his contemporaries, showed the consistency 
 of his faith. 
 
 From these statements as to his mother and father, 
 we may infer, with certainty, that Lord Bacon's 
 earliest years must have been surrounded with the 
 choicest influences of learning and religion. For 
 both his parents singularly combined faculties of the 
 highest order, with habits which were minutely 
 practical. And it were gratuitous to suspect, that 
 the one passed her mornings with Plato, to the 
 neglect of her youngest son Francis; or that the 
 other overlooked his moral education, for the sake of 
 his favourite Quintilian, or those state-intrigues in 
 regard to which his moderation warranted the motto 
 which he placed on his escutcheon for himself, 1 and 
 which became a proverb among others. One can 
 scarcely conceive of more friendly agencies operating 
 upon a youth, than those which obtained in this 
 home. The minds of both parents were attuned to 
 the noblest voices of literature ; the mother's accents 
 must have made musical the crabbed philosophy 
 
 1 "Mediocria firma." The idea which, as a motto, this conveys is — 
 " Moderate fortunes are stable." 
 
AXD EARLY DATS. 5 
 
 of the ancients; the father's vigorous action must 
 have saved the youthful listener to that music from 
 a mere dreamy pleasure; and, more than all, the 
 freshness of religious convictions for which the wife, 
 in her father's exile, and the husband, in his own 
 person, had suffered, could not fail to bring religious 
 truth before their offspring in the form and power of 
 reality. 
 
 Mr. ITacaulay has paid a tribute, as true as it is 
 eloquent, to the memory of Sir Nicholas Bacon and 
 his brother statesmen, in his description of their 
 characters and of their homes : " Sir Nicholas Eacon 
 inscribed over the entrance of his hall at Gorhani- 
 bury, ' Mediocria fir ma.' This maxim was con- 
 stantly borne in mind by himself and his colleagues. 
 They were more solicitous to lay the foundations of 
 their power deep, than to raise the structure to a 
 conspicuous but insecure height. None of them 
 aspired to be sole minister. None of them provoked 
 envy by an ostentatious display of wealth and 
 influence. None of them affected to outshine the 
 ancient aristocracy of the kingdom. They were free 
 from that childish love of titles which characterized 
 the successful courtiers of the generation which pre- 
 ceded them, and of that which followed them. Only 
 one of those whom we have named was made a peer ; 
 and he was content with the lowest degree of the 
 peerage. As to money, none of them could, in that 
 age, justly be considered as rapacious. Some of them 
 would, even in our time, deserve the praise of 
 
6 BACON S BIETII, CEXLLHOOD, 
 
 eminent disinterestedness. Their fidelity to the state 
 was incorruptible. Their private morals were with- 
 out stain. Their households were sober and well 
 governed." 1 
 
 Then, again, who were the guests of this home, 
 from whom an observant child could not fail to catch 
 high impulses ? There were all those ministers to 
 her selection of whom, and loyal confidence in whom, 
 the great Elizabeth owed her renown. There was 
 the sage Burleigh, " our English Nestor," 2 a living 
 type of solidity of judgment, of probity, and of 
 noble industry. There were the astute and dexterous 
 Walsingham ; the ardent Oxford ; the military, naval, 
 scholar-like, courteous, eloquent, poetic, philosophic 
 Ealeigh. There, too, must have been often seen the 
 good and the reverend bishop Jewel, perchance fol- 
 lowed by his acolyte, Eichard Hooker. At the festive 
 board of the old knight, the chivalrous Sir Philip 
 Sidney, without fear, and without reproach, must have 
 often sat. Floating expressions about Spenser and 
 his elf- like imaginations, with genial praise of their 
 ethereal beauty, must have met the young scholar's 
 ear. Sir Francis Drake, with his weather-beaten 
 visage, but his heroic words, must have often evoked 
 the idea of the patriot in the eager boy. Nor could 
 there have been there wanting some subtle school- 
 man, full of human kindness, albeit full, to overflow- 
 ing, of his passion for intellectual casuistry. 
 
 Let us but think of these as the more than 
 
 i Macaulay's Essays, p. 346. 2 Fuller. 
 
AJTD EAEXT LAYS. i 
 
 probable associations of that mind which we are 
 about to try to estimate. And then, let us follow 
 him from the table to which he had been introduced, 
 back to his own chamber; whither he had to retire 
 to rest, full of shapeless and wondering conceptions 
 about human greatness ; about large-minded piety ; 
 about the polity of the church ; about chivalry ; about 
 imagination; about stern and suffering patriotism; and 
 last, but not least to his quickened intellect, about 
 philosophy. Cecil made this boy think of a states- 
 man's greatness ; bishop Jewel, of the earnest claims 
 of religious truth ; Sidney, of the touching bravery of 
 true manhood ; Spenser, of the innumerable, though 
 invisible denizens of the forest-glade; whilst a Ealeigh 
 and a Drake warmed him into the magnanimity of an 
 Englishman. Big with all these thoughts which he 
 bore away from his father's table, he had, before he 
 slept, to bend his knee at the side of his learned, yet 
 pious and gentle mother, and to address, through 
 Christ, the Supreme God. 
 
 Then still again, in order to our appreciation of 
 the influences of his home, let us recollect that, on 
 sundry occasions, the father's homestead was signally 
 honoured by the visits of the queen Elizabeth. Can 
 we suppose that such a precocious youth as was Francis 
 Bacon, listened unwittingly to the words of her whose 
 indomitable courage had scorned that Armada which 
 bore the freight of Boman Catholic cruelty, more than 
 even that of Castilian insolence ; who had taken the 
 people as her spouse, and given promise to observe 
 
8 bicon's bieth, childhood, and eaely days. 
 
 all the rights of that marriage covenant; who 
 had, in the midst of her dalliance with earthly 
 affections, shown how vigilantly she could watch 
 over, and how wisely she could promote, the well- 
 being of the people whom she called her own? 
 And what must have been his young emotions 
 when, having told her majesty, as she asked his 
 age, " that he was just two years younger than her 
 happy reign," she welcomed his answer, and called 
 him her young Lord Keeper ? 
 
 "With these influences, calculated as they were 
 to awaken seriousness of action, devout principle, 
 self-control, gentle courage, a pure fancy, and true 
 and brave love of country ; followed by a mother's 
 womanly but learned benison, and a father's maxims 
 and examples ; Francis Bacon was being prepared to 
 enter the university of Cambridge, 
 
 
CHAPTEK IL 
 
 BACON AT THE UNIVERSITY OE CAMBEIDGE. 
 
 Except that Erancis Bacon was very delicate in 
 health, and, thereby, was less tempted than most 
 boys to sacrifice his books for robuster pleasures; 
 that, as we have already hinted, his tact and readi- 
 ness of answer obtained queen Elizabeth's flattering 
 recognition of him as her young Lord Keeper ; that 
 he showed his characteristic curiosity about physical 
 facts, stealing away from his play-fellows to a vault 
 in St. James's Eields, in order to examine into a 
 curious echo; 1 and that, when scarcely twelve, he 
 indulged in ingenious speculations to account for 
 the apparent anomalies of legerdemain; we know 
 nothing certain about his childhood. 
 
 Neither have we more satisfactory information 
 about his life, for three years, at Trinity College, 
 Cambridge, where he was placed by his father, 
 under archbishop Whitgift, before he was thirteen. 
 
 But, knowing as we do that he was singularly 
 precocious and observant, and that his mother's 
 
 i Vide Eacon's Works. Natural History. Cent. n. \ 240. 
 
10 BACON AT 
 
 intellectual tastes were of so very high an order, and 
 that both the literary habits and the enlightened 
 companions of his father, must have told most 
 powerfully upon his young mind, we may feel sure 
 that he entered the university with an amount of 
 knowledge far from ordinary. If we may judge 
 from those portions of his subsequent works which 
 he wrote himself in Latin, and from his general 
 admission of a want of facility for so doing, we 
 may assume that he was indisposed to the acquisi- 
 tion of the learned languages. But he must have 
 been so far familiar with them as to warrant that 
 critical spirit which we know him to have indulged, 
 as to the ancient philosophy, even before he was 
 sixteen. 
 
 Perhaps the "genius loci" [influence of place] 
 was never more awake and active at Cambridge than 
 at the time when Erancis Bacon matriculated. A 
 most mistaken notion has generally prevailed that, 
 when he took his rooms, he became a member of 
 a corporation that was dormant; over whom the 
 slothful spirit of what are called "the Dark Ages" 
 still spread its wings; and that then this young 
 student awoke it to consciousness and scientific 
 activity. The least observation of the times, pro- 
 vided it be impartial, will show that notion to be 
 false. Miot to speak of the quickening thoughts 
 which the Beformation, still so recent, had in- 
 breathed into the minds of that distinguished uni- 
 versity, where the works of Martin Luther and 
 
CAMBRIDGE. 1 1 
 
 Philip Melancthon, Bucer and Sir Thomas More; 
 Calvin, Par el, and Beza ; Zuingle and BeUarmin, 
 were keeping the whole consciousness of that great 
 body in the most earnest antagonism : not to speak 
 of this — Boethius and Ascham, George Buchanan 
 and Sir Philip Sidney, were active in their influence. 
 So too, and more especially for the subject of our 
 memoir, a strife was existing between the disciples 
 of the schoolmen and the pure Aristotelian remon- 
 strants ; and Cesalpini, and Cremonini, and Pa- 
 trizzi, and Jordano Bruno, and, above all, Sanchez 
 with his theory, and Aconcio with his logic, and 
 Bamus with his dialectics, were fermenting that 
 mass. And, moreover, Tartaglia and Cardan and 
 "Whetstone, by their new algebraic formulae; Yieta 
 above them all ; Commandin, in his pure geometry ; 
 and, still further, Copernicus with his bold naviga- 
 tion of the heavens, and Tycho Brahe, his lieutenant 
 in the voyage ; Gesner in natural, and Machiavelli 
 in political philosophy; all these, and others like them, 
 were stirring Cambridge to its very depths. So 
 that, prostrate though the university discipline was 
 beneath a number of pseudo-aristotelian forms — we 
 must not, for the purpose of magnifying the genius 
 and forecast of Francis Bacon, describe him as if, 
 whilst in the midst of sleepers, he alone had main- 
 tained his wakefulness, and had welcomed the day's 
 dawn as his kindred light, and had eagerly, but in 
 heroic solitude, looked out upon the amphitheatre of 
 human knowledge, and striven to map into accuracy 
 
12 BACON AT 
 
 its open plains, and its sombre forests, its glaciers 
 which were chilly, and its peaks which were in- 
 accessible. 
 
 We have no records, except those of his friendly 
 biographer Eawley, from which we can learn, 
 whether true or no, that Francis Bacon's progress 
 at the university was " rapid and uncommon;" for 
 (so says that biographer) "he had run through the 
 whole circle of the liberal arts, as they were then 
 taught, before he was sixteen. But, what is far more 
 surprising, he began even then to see through the 
 emptiness and futility of the philosophy in vogue ; 
 and to conjecture that useful knowledge must be 
 raised on other foundations, and built up with other 
 materials, than had been employed through a tract of 
 many centuries backward. In this, his own genius, 
 aided by a singular discernment, must have been his 
 only preceptor. In matters of reasoning, the authority 
 of Aristotle was still acknowledged infallible in the 
 schools, as much as that of the pope in affairs of 
 religion had lately been acknowledged there, and 
 everywhere else." 1 
 
 Our readers will not think it an unnatural digres- 
 sion (we mean it only as an episode) when we submit 
 a few remarks upon this college life of Francis Bacon, 
 meagre as are our materials. There can be but little 
 doubt that, when he left Cambridge, Bacon carried 
 with him "a profound contempt for the course of 
 study pursued there, a fixed conviction that the 
 
 l Works, vol. i. p. iii. 
 
CAX3ETDGE. 13 
 
 system of academic education in England was radi- 
 cally vicious, a just scorn for the trifles on which the 
 followers of Aristotle had wasted their powers, and 
 no great reverence for Aristotle himself." 1 But let us 
 say, that the future Lord Bacon rued this his youthful 
 superciliousness, and that those grave defects in his 
 philosophical life, to which we shall hereafter have to 
 advert, sprang from it. At present it will suffice us 
 to observe, that he had to regret his want of that 
 facility in current communication with the learned 
 men of other countries, which he would have had if 
 he had been a properly docile student in the classics ; 
 and that, if he had more heartily given himself up to 
 the science of his age, bald though it was, he never 
 could have fallen into that disgrace as a fortuitous 
 natural philosopher, which, notwithstanding his far 
 higher science, places him beneath Pliny the elder, 
 and ranks him as among those ancient servitors who 
 gathered up things for their master, and, meanwhile, 
 talked with wonderment about them. 
 
 This is a most important lesson, which, in all 
 genial fellowship of feeling, we would ask the young 
 collegian to learn. Even so great a man as Lord 
 Bacon had to lament, from his own consciousness, his 
 deficiencies in that which a college discipline alone 
 can give ; and all scientific posterity looks with pain 
 surprise upon the unsystematic, and really empi- 
 rical character of his natural observations and ex- 
 periments. 
 
 i Maeaulay'a Essays, p. 34?. 
 
14 BACON AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 And if this was the case with one for whom, 
 because of his unparalleled genius, no precedent was 
 necessary, and whom no one of us can, without the 
 most egregious and ominous presumption, take as a 
 precedent for one's self; surely it may be argued 
 that, while a young mind, as it enters upon its 
 university life, may retain within itself the unfettered 
 consciousness of its thoughts and convictions about 
 the formularies of study prescribed to it, the highest 
 wisdom would teach it to receive the discipline in all 
 true fealty. Supposing it to be imperfect, or even 
 absurd, it must be better than no discipline at all ; 
 and seeing that it is enjoined by our intellectual and 
 Christian fathers, a young man's mind must be, at 
 least, defective in veneration (which, be it recollected, 
 is a thoughtful feeling) if, in defiance of experience, 
 he prefers the whisper of a pride which in itself is 
 pitiable, or of a religious fastidiousness which is 
 as often the dictate of indolence, as it is that of 
 deficient information. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 BACOX IN FEA^CE, 
 
 Draixo the reign of Henry vm, a.d. 1547, Sir 
 Nicholas Eacon had been appointed by that sovereign 
 one of the commissioners to fonnd a college for the 
 training of yonng diplomatists, and to prepare a plan, 
 and frame statutes, for the institution. Among other 
 recommendations, these commissioners advised that 
 the students should be sent, as soon as they were 
 sufficiently advanced, to foreign courts, where, as 
 attaches to English ambassadors, they might be early 
 initiated in political affairs. Unhappily, this project 
 failed, the monarch having dissipated those revenues 
 of the suppressed convents which he had originally 
 destined for it. But, we may well believe that the 
 father was only carrying out his individual convic- 
 tion which he had advised in general, when he sent 
 his son to Prance immediately on his leaving college, 
 in the suite of Sir Ami as Paulet, queen Elizabeth's 
 ambassador. There he spent three fall years, with 
 the exception of one short interval when, for his 
 eminent talents and trustworthiness, he was employed 
 
16 L1C0X IN FEANCE. 
 
 on a secret mission to his sovereign. On his return, 
 Sir Amias thus writes to the Lord Keeper : "I rejoice 
 much to see that your son, my companion, hath, by 
 the grace of God, passed the brunt and peril of his 
 journey; whereof I am the more glad, because 
 in the beginning of these last troubles it pleased 
 your lordship to refer his continuance with me to my 
 consideration. I thank God these dangers are past, 
 and your son is safe, sound, and in good health, and 
 worthy of your fatherly favour." 1 Francis Bacon 
 was then, reckoning according to the new style, in 
 the early part of his eighteenth year. 
 
 In allusion to this, his residence in France, Lord 
 Chief Justice Campbell speaks of it as " a passage of 
 his life which has hitherto received too little atten- 
 tion, in tracing the formation of his mind and charac- 
 ter." 2 His lordship merely makes the suggestion ; 
 let us try to act upon it. 
 
 When this young man visited France, not four 
 years had elapsed since the massacre of St. Bartholo- 
 mew's day : that bloody and treacherous deed which 
 was equally consistent with the principles of papal 
 policy, and with those of Catherine de' Medici, the 
 queen-mother, and the dissimulating weakness of her 
 son, Charles ix. Although Francis Bacon was too 
 young to be at court when the news reached queen 
 Elizabeth, it was impossible for him to have been 
 unaware of the appalling grief and horror with which 
 his royal mistress and all those around her, nay, the 
 
 1 Sept. 1577. 2 Campbell's Lives of the Lord Chancellors, vol. i. p. 277. 
 
BACOX EX EEAXCE. 17 
 
 whole country ; heard of it. In the cause of that 
 Protestantism which these inhuman butchers sought 
 to destroy, his maternal grandfather had spent years 
 of weary exile; his father, years of perilous dis- 
 quietude. Doubtless, the hand of Eishop Jewel 
 had been upon his head, and that revered confessor 
 must have imbued him with many a thought and 
 feeling favourable to the primitive faith. We can 
 imagine him, with a mind still fresh from Fox's 
 martyrology, pausing with protestant indignation 
 over those spots which, as yet, were red with 
 the blood of the venerable Colignv. of Teligni, 
 Soubise, Eochefoucault, Pardaillon, Piles and Lavar- 
 din, and five hundred other Paladins, whose heroic 
 shields had, heretofore, been employed as faithfully 
 for their country, as for their principles as Huguenots. 
 We can, therefore, well understand the fervour with 
 which, during his residence in France, and anticipat- 
 ing the ascent of Henry of Xavarre to the throne, he 
 writes : " The next to the succession makes already 
 profession of the reformed religion, besides the in- 
 crease thereof daily in France. England and Scotland 
 are already, (rod be thanked, quite reformed, with the 
 better part of Germany." l Hereafter, it will be seen 
 how firmly, yet with a large and tolerant mind 
 towards the Koinan Catholics, he maintained his 
 own profession of Protestantism. 
 
 In one of his essays, that on " Travel," he gives 
 those counsels to young men who visit foreign 
 
 1 Works, iii. p. 4. 
 
18 EACON IN FEAXCE. 
 
 countries, which, we may be assured, he followed for 
 himself. To adopt his own phrase, he went out 
 "not hooded," but " looked abroad." " It is a strange 
 thing," he remarks, " that in sea voyages, where there 
 is nothing to be seen but sky and sea, men should 
 make diaries; but in land- travel, wherein so much 
 is to be observed, for the most part they omit it ; as 
 if chance were fitter to be registered than observation. 
 Let diaries therefore be brought in use." 1 He has 
 left us no such diary ; but from the youthful memo- 
 randa which he made during this his stay in France, 
 and which, together with subsequent observations, he 
 published as a tract on "The State of Europe," we 
 have ample proofs that the courts of princes and of 
 justice; the ecclesiastical tribunals; churches and 
 monasteries, and monuments ; cities and towns, with 
 their walls and fortifications, their havens and their 
 harbours ; antiquities and ruins ; colleges, libraries, 
 and lectures; shipping and navies; mansions; arse- 
 nals; exchanges; military tactics; curiosities of vertu 
 — all these, with his characteristic spirit of classifica- 
 tion, he most carefully observed. 
 • "What must have been the guardian influences at 
 work on his youthful mind while at the French court, 
 may be gathered from the judgment which he re- 
 corded upon its sovereign. This he wrote in his 
 nineteenth year: "The French king, Henry in, of 
 thirty years of age, of a very weak constitution, and 
 full of infirmities ; yet extremely given over to his 
 
 1 Works, ii. p. 294. 
 
BACON CT FBAXCE. 19 
 
 wanton pleasures, having only delight in dancing, 
 feasting, and entertaining ladies, and chamber plea- 
 sures; no great wit, yet a comely behaviour and 
 goodly personage; very poor through exacting inordi- 
 nately by all devices of his subjects, greatly repining 
 • that revenge and hungry government; 1 abhorring 
 wars and all action ; yet daily worketh the ruin of 
 those he hateth, as all of the religion and the house 
 of Bourbon ; 2 doting fondly on some he chooseth to 
 favour extremely, without any virtue or cause of 
 desert in them, to whom he giveth prodigally." 3 
 
 Francis Bacon was constitutionally grave, though 
 the very opposite of morose, in disposition. That he 
 was not the latter, will appear hereafter in our 
 reference to his " Collection of Apothegms," (which 
 Mr. Macaulay, somewhat partially we think, describes 
 as "the best collection of jests in the world,") together 
 with the proofs we shall adduce of his high social 
 qualities. We may, therefore, feel somewhat sure 
 that, in the above estimate of the character and con- 
 duct of Henry in, of France, there was nothing of 
 the illiberally fastidious ; that he formed it in a state 
 of mind which was, while prepared to enter buoyantly 
 into enjoyment, morally superior to the syren influ- 
 ences of dissipation. 
 
 1 This is very obscure. It is probable that Bacon intended to convey 
 that the subjects of Henry in. repined at his revengeful and hungry 
 government. 
 
 2 Henry of Navarre (afterwards Henry iv. of France) was, at this 
 time, head of the house of Bourbon. 
 
 3 Works, iii. p. 15. 
 
20 BACON IN FBANCE. 
 
 But as to more grave subjects, and as to those 
 which especially affected his education for a future 
 statesman, he had to live in an atmosphere of strife 
 which might pre-eminently be called " politico-reli- 
 gious." The houses of Guise and Montmorency; the 
 houses of Guise and Navarre, kept the whole realm 
 of France in disquietude and intrigue, and often 
 open violence. And the monarch's weakness of cha- 
 racter, unredeemed by morality of conduct, could hold 
 no check upon the attendant convulsions. Mean- 
 while, as he says himself, speaking of his own 
 sovereign, " because the queen's majesty hath that 
 reputation to be the defender of the true religion and 
 faith, against her majesty, as the head of the faithful, 
 is the drift of all these mischiefs." 1 Notwithstanding 
 all the persiflage of the courtier wherewith, in after 
 years, he was wont to address her, we must conclude 
 that, firm in his protestant predilections, and also in 
 his patriotism, he could not but often, and passionately 
 as a young man, revert to the dignified self-control, 
 and the sagacious supremacy of rule, and the popular 
 thoughtfulness, which distinguished the monarch- 
 mother of his own country. 
 
 He appears to have made a tour through several of 
 the French provinces, and to have spent some time at 
 Poictiers. But we have no memoranda of his journey- 
 ings in the one, or of his residence in the other ; 
 unless one may assume that his juvenile recollections 
 concurred with other knowledge, ten years afterwards, 
 
 1 Works, iii. p. 4. 
 
BACON IN FRANCE. 21 
 
 when he wrote the following : " The kingdom of 
 France, which, by reason of the seat of the empire 
 of the west, was wont to have the precedence of 
 the kingdoms of Europe, is now fallen into those 
 calamities, that, as the prophet saith, 'From the 
 crown of the head to the sole of the foot, there is no 
 whole place.' The divisions are so many, and so 
 intricate, of Protestants and Catholics, royalists and 
 leaguers, Bourbonists and Lorrainists, patriots and 
 Spanish, as it seemeth God hath some great work to 
 bring to pass upon that nation." * 
 
 In fine, in so far as this state of France induced 
 suggestive influences upon his mind, we may con- 
 clude, that Francis Bacon received those of tolera- 
 tion, in reaction to his horror at Papal cruelties; 
 those of high intellectual and moral disgust, at a 
 turpitude which a licentious monarch and court made 
 still more offensive by their own imbecility; those 
 of sorrow and of wonder that such licentiousness and 
 such feeble statesmanship had so palsied the powers 
 and faculties of a great people ; together, on the other 
 hand, with those of reverent homage towards that 
 government of his own country which presented, in 
 the strongest contrast, the nascent principles of 
 religious liberty, the high decencies of life, and the 
 active virtues of a sound and vigorous diplomacy. 
 
 It may be instructive to us to glance at the philo- 
 sophical information, which one who was to be so 
 great, possessed while in Paris, and which we gather 
 
 1 Works, iii. p. 55, 
 
22 BACON IX FEANCE. 
 
 from scattered fragments in his works : " The sym- 
 pathy of individuals that have been entire, or have 
 touched, is of all others the most incredible ; yet, 
 according unto our faithful manner of examination 
 of nature, we will make some little mention of it. 
 The taking away of warts, by rubbing them with 
 somewhat that afterwards is put to waste and 
 consume, is a common experiment ; and I do appre- 
 hend it the rather because of my own experience. 
 I had, from my childhood, a wart upon one of my 
 fingers : afterwards, when I was about sixteen years 
 old, being then at Paris, there grew upon both my 
 hands a number of warts, at the least a hundred, in a 
 month's space. The English ambassador's lady, who 
 was a woman far from superstition, told me one day 
 she would help me away with my warts : whereupon 
 she got a piece of lard with the skin on, and rubbed 
 the warts aU over with the fat side ; and amongst 
 the rest, that wart which I had had from my child- 
 hood : then she nailed the piece of lard, with the fat 
 towards the sun, upon a post of her chamber window, 
 which was to the south. The success was, that 
 within five weeks' space all the warts went quite 
 away ; and that wart which I had so long endured, 
 for company. But at the rest I did little marvel, 
 because they came in a short time, and might go 
 away in a short time again ; but the going away of 
 that which had stayed so long, doth yet stick with 
 me." 1 
 
 1 Works, ii. p. 75. 
 
BAC0X IX FRANCE. 23 
 
 We have quoted this, quite aware that it must 
 awake a smile in some ; perhaps it will be thought 
 frivolous and unnecessary by others. But to a mind 
 at all thoughtful it must be important, as showing 
 weakness in the neighbourhood of great strength of 
 mind; a disposition towards fancy in that same 
 bosom where there were already working those feel- 
 ings which were so revolutionary of all superstitious 
 hypotheses. "We have quoted it likewise, as a first 
 proof that even so severe a philosophical iconoclast, 
 made many a genuflection before an idol of the 
 imagination. One of his best French biographers 
 remarks upon this fact: " Bacon gives this instance 
 as an example of a species of sympathetic correlation, 
 or of sympathetic reaction, between materials which 
 were formerly parts of the same whole, or which 
 have been in contact with one another. It is evident 
 that he is deceived here, by the simple juxta-position 
 of two facts, independent of each other, and that he 
 fell into the sophism, " cum hoc, ergo propter hoc," 
 [with this, therefore, because of this.] But ought 
 we to be astonished that, at a period when the 
 existence of occult powers in matter was generally 
 admitted, such a kind of experimental evidence 
 sometimes subjugated a reason which was, ordinarily, 
 so strong ? "We should the rather wonder, if he had 
 invariably resisted that which he looked upon as the 
 result of true observation." 1 
 
 Again : Francis Bacon was suddenly arrested in 
 
 1 De Vauzelles. Vie de Francois Bacon, torn. L p. 11. 
 
24 SACON IN FllANCE. 
 
 his foreign tour by the melancholy news of the death 
 of his father. In reference to this, he has recorded : 
 "I myself remember, that being in Paris, and my 
 father dying in London, two or three days before my 
 father's death I had a dream, which I told to divers 
 English gentlemen, that my father's house was 
 plaistered all over with black mortar." 1 
 
 If these statements had been recorded when he 
 was a youth, merely, we should be fair in placing 
 them among that love of the marvellous for which 
 youth at all times is distinguished. But these are 
 gathered from his cabinet of philosophical pheno- 
 mena. And they will, therefore, prepare us for still 
 more emphatic instances of the strange and intimate 
 and almost fascinating fellowship which subsists 
 between incredulity and .credulity. Francis Bacon 
 was, at this very moment, planning a crusade against 
 the hypotheses and " anticipations of nature," 
 and " superstitions" of past ages. In years subse- 
 quent he realized that plan ; and yet, both at that 
 moment and in those years subsequent, he held 
 up, as facts related together, the one by the link 
 of causation, the other by a most trivial and un- 
 meaning coincidence, those very things which his 
 " philosophy " ranked among the " idols of the 
 theatre." 
 
 So true is it, that the intellect, even the highest 
 among men, has lost its harmony of proportion 
 through sin ; for this inconsistency in Francis Bacon 
 
 1 Works, ii. p. 71. 
 
LACON IN FRANCE. 25 
 
 is more than near to a moral inconsistency. So wise, 
 therefore, will it be for us, in our estimate of human 
 judgments, never to ignore the truth, that the loftiest 
 human mind is vulnerable to errors, for even such 
 a mind has sinned ; and that none of us should con- 
 fide in our own decisions of thought, without the 
 qualifying admission that some moral disturbance 
 may have intervened. 
 
 Upon the case before us, it is impossible to dwell 
 too emphatically. Let one of our readers be intel- 
 lectually cautious, how much soever ; let him be in 
 training, how severe soever, for the examination of 
 the laws of moral evidence; let him thereby be 
 tempted to despise the social and the religious vaga- 
 ries of the inferior persons with whom he may be 
 called incidentally to associate ; yet he may remem- 
 ber, and with advantage, that the intellect which 
 most probably was the largest the world has ever 
 seen, was guilty of imbecile aberrations. And, verily 
 this should make him modest about what he thinks 
 of himself, and also about what he thinks in regard 
 to others. 
 
 Francis Bacon was suddenly stopped short in his 
 foreign travels and personal ease, on the sudden 
 death of his father, of whom he says himself: "He 
 was a plain man, direct and constant, without all 
 finesse and doubleness ; and one that was of the mind 
 that a man in his private proceedings and estate, 
 and in the proceedings of state, should rest upon the 
 
26 BACON IN FRANCE. 
 
 soundness and strength of his own courses, and not 
 upon practice to circumvent others." l 
 
 Lord Campbell may say, that "the Lord Keeper 
 was too much occupied with his official duties to be 
 able to do more than kiss him, hear him occasionally 
 recite a little piece he had learned by heart, and give 
 him his blessing." 2 But it were gratuitous to infer 
 thence that the child's filial emotions were indifferent. 
 "We have, it is true, no records of his sorrow, mani- 
 fested either in the form of affection, or of more cold 
 regret as to the disadvantages to himself which were 
 consequent upon the death of his father. But it is 
 impossible that he did not feel both. The latter 
 immediate distress we shall show presently; the 
 former may be presumed from his invariably affec- 
 tionate disposition, and the virtues of his parent. 
 Francis Bacon lost his father when he most wanted 
 him. No young man, who has had to undergo such 
 a trial, will contest this. Be it that his parent was 
 even inferior to himself, both in intelligence and in 
 acquired station, he was still his father, the earthly 
 being who had stood forth as his refuge and pro- 
 tector ; to whom he had fled — in contradistinction to 
 that shield of love and sympathy which his mother 
 had thrown over him — for manly guardianship, for 
 wholesome reproof, for counsel, for strong alliance. 
 
 May such an one feel that his loss is irreparable, 
 unless it brings him to seek the fatherhood of God 
 in Christ Jesus ! 
 
 i Works, iii. p. 93. 2 Campbell, ii. p. 275. 
 
CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 BACON'S EAELT MANHOOD. 
 
 Upon that sudden death of his father, which we 
 have just mentioned, Francis Eacon was necessarily 
 recalled home. He was the youngest of eight children. 
 For his four brothers and three sisters Sir Nicholas 
 Bacon had provided. For him, his favourite, he 
 had, during the absence of Francis, set apart a con- 
 siderable sum of money wherewith to purchase an 
 estate for him. But, as far as this special deed 
 was concerned, the Lord Keeper died intestate. 
 And thus, when the object of such cherished inten- 
 tions returned to England, he found himself in 
 prospective poverty. He had had every warrant 
 for presuming upon his father's almost unequalled 
 influence as a statesman; he had had, as a young 
 man, that father's purse during his pleasant sojourn 
 abroad ; he repaired home, and found himself com- 
 paratively denuded. 
 
 We hear but little of his sisters; we find, how- 
 ever, numerous proofs of his fraternal affection for his 
 brother Anthony Bacon. He deserves to be com- 
 
28 bacon's early 
 
 memorated. He was a learned man, had travelled 
 much, was an eminent political negotiator, a faithful 
 friend, and full of sympathy with his younger 
 brother's philosophical pursuits. 
 
 That Francis Bacon should have been so little 
 associated with his family, is not particularly sur- 
 prising. All his father's other children, with the 
 exception of Anthony, were by a former wife. 
 Nevertheless, as it seems from his will, Bacon main- 
 tained through life a family attachment to one of his 
 sisters, he bequeathing (in intention) to his " brother 
 Constable," the husband, and to herself and their 
 child, a large proof of his regard. What relations he 
 now sustained with his exemplary and intelligent 
 mother, we cannot say. 
 
 We have now to regard him as placed in the most 
 anxious deliberation about what should be his future 
 course of life. Hitherto, notwithstanding his su- 
 preme predilection for philosophy in spite of its 
 retirement and reversionary rewards, he appeared to 
 be destined to statesmanship, and his recent studies 
 had been diplomatic. But now, without fortune, 
 and, as he soon found when he became a candidate 
 for a place, without friends, whither should he turn? 
 Let us translate a passage from his "De Interpretation 
 Naturae Proemium," in which he afterwards de- 
 scribed his thoughts and feelings at this period : 
 " Whilst I was surmising that I was born for pursuits 
 useful to my fellow-men, and that statesmanship was 
 among those pursuits ; whilst I was thinking of them 
 
siashood. 29 
 
 as free to all, like the very air and water, I sought 
 after that one which would be the most useful to the 
 human commonwealth, and for which I was by 
 mature the best fitted. But I found that there was 
 nothing in that commonwealth so deserving as the 
 invention and promotion of those new studies and 
 arts by which man's life might be benefitted. . . . 
 I judged that my own mind had a special familiarity 
 and affinity with truth. Nevertheless, imbued as 
 I was, both by birth and education, with political 
 habits ; and undetermined in opinions, as was natural 
 to a young man; and, moreover, thinking that I 
 owed something to my country more special than 
 to any other objects; and hoping that, if I could 
 attain an honorable position in the state I might 
 be able to fulfil my philosophical intentions with 
 a greater facility of talent and of business habits, 
 I have devoted myself to the study of civil 
 science." 1 
 
 It is thus obvious how great was the debate in his 
 own mind. He decided, however, as the above 
 extract has shown, for public life. Upon the wisdom 
 of that choice no one can fairly determine. We 
 believe that, so singularly large was he in affection 
 for all the forms of human activity, no collegiate 
 cloister could have contained his spirit; that, if by 
 physical force he had been restrained there, the very 
 sense of restraint would have degenerated into in- 
 dignant inactivity; whereas his future multiplicity 
 
 1 Works, ix. p. 313, 314. " Impetus Philosophici." 
 
30 BACONS EAKXY 
 
 of pursuits, so apparently ungenial to his scholar- 
 ship, only gave him a greater zest, and quickened 
 him to a more expeditious earnestness, when in after 
 days he obtained his temporary scientific seclu- 
 sions. Just thus, though in a much less exalted range 
 of life, that father bursts forth into all his paternal 
 vivacity, when he meets those children from whom 
 he has been debarred by the day's hard toil, who, if 
 he had been with them all the day in comparative 
 indolent repose, would have felt contented in giving 
 them merely an unmeaning smile. 
 
 Francis Bacon chose public life. Let us bear in 
 mind that, for him, considering his former position, 
 his habits, and the prospects on which he had most 
 fairly calculated, he was miserably poor. He felt 
 that it was necessary for him to seek a profession that 
 might be lucrative. He became a barrister. He 
 enrolled himself as a student at Gray's Inn. He 
 felt such an affection for this legal college that, in 
 after life, he built in its neighbourhood an elegant 
 mansion, in which he, with rare intervals, lived until 
 shortly before his death. Eawley, his ancient bio- 
 grapher, says that there "his superior talents rendered 
 him the ornament of the house, as the gentleness 
 and affability of his deportment won him the affec- 
 tion of all its members." * He was incorporated in 
 the year 1580, in his twentieth year. His chambers, 
 jSTo. 1, Gray's Inn Square, are still standing; a spot 
 for the visit of the true scientific pilgrim. 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 1. 
 
ilAXHOOD. 31 
 
 But before he took this decisive step he had sought 
 for some more promising pursuit. His maternal 
 aunt was the wife of Lord Burleigh, the premier 
 of queen Elizabeth for forty years ; so long and so 
 confidentially did her majesty 'regard him. Though 
 the one by influence, and the other by direct 
 entreaty, was besought, Francis Bacon obtained 
 nothing. 
 
 This is the place for us to state that sinister 
 influence which, it is affirmed, was brought to bear 
 against Bacon's advancement, It is alleged by 
 almost all writers, that Lord Burleigh was so earnest 
 in his object to promote his own son, the future 
 Sir Bobert Cecil, that he not merely looked upon 
 any probable competitor with discountenance, but 
 by positive acts endeavoured to ruin him in his 
 candidateship ; and that his own nephew, Bacon, 
 was so singularly promising in genius, that for this 
 reason only he repulsed him. The poor heart of 
 man is, at the best, but very little and very un- 
 generous ; and so we may, in all historical candour, 
 conclude that paternal anxiety operated as a motive 
 on Lord Burleigh's mind. That there was much 
 jealousy in his own, and in that of his son Sir 
 Bobert, there can be no doubt. But, as we shall 
 show hereafter, Bacon's pertinacity of solicitation 
 must, of itself, have been regarded as almost unbear- 
 able. 
 
 AVe are, therefore, scarcely prepared to say with 
 Mr. Macaulay and his more ancient biographers 
 
52 EACON'S EAELY 
 
 that prospective envy was the sole cause of his uncle's 
 disallowance of him. We shall see how miserably 
 he erred in his canvass for himself in other par- 
 ticulars; and it would be unjust to tax Lord Eurleigh 
 and his son with so gratuitous and so bad a feeling, 
 without our recollecting that the being who called 
 it forth, forgot his own dignified propriety in the 
 modes of his asking for their patronage. This we 
 shall see. 
 
 He was repulsed, and then he betook himself most 
 vigorously to the study of the law. This was a fine 
 proof of his mental elasticity. He never liked the 
 law. Minute though he was in his observations in 
 natural science, he shrank from the technicalities of 
 the bar. He, the rather, flew away to the large 
 generalizations of the jurisconsult. The pandects 
 were far more to his taste than were the cavils and 
 distinctions and refinements of the pleader. 
 
 Tet, as Mr. Macaulay says, " It is certain that no 
 man in that age, or indeed during the century and a 
 half which followed, was better acquainted with the 
 philosophy of law. His technical knowledge was 
 quite sufficient, with the help of his admirable talents, 
 and of his insinuating address, to procure clients. 
 He rose very rapidly into business, and soon enter- 
 tained hopes of being called within the bar." l 
 
 It was about this time, while disconcerted in his 
 projects of personal ambition; coldly treated by his 
 powerfully hostile though unaggrieved relations; 
 
 1 Macaulay's Essays, p. 350. 
 
MANHOOD. 33 
 
 bent down by pecuniary necessity to his desk, to tax 
 his memory with law authorities and law precedents, 
 to handle a science full of thorns, and the very root of 
 which was overspread with such a mass of dry wood, 
 that it was inaccessible; that Francis Bacon, now 
 about twenty-five years of age, indited that small 
 book which he assures us of, though we have no copy 
 of it, and which he called, in youthful vainglory, 
 "Temporis Partus Maxima" 1 — the Greatest Birth 
 of Time. 
 
 Let us but strive to conceive of such a composition 
 and such a moment. Francis Bacon is seated in his 
 chambers. Around him there are books, but most of 
 them from their vellum covers speak to him only of 
 the past, pregnant with authority and dogmatism. 
 There stand also the tomes of Plato and Aristotle. 
 There were treatises, small and large, on the systems 
 of Pythagoras and Heraclitus, Democritus and Parme- 
 nides. The philosophical works of Proclus, of Cicero, 
 the poem of Lucretius, and the more modern writ- 
 ings of Patrizzi, Telesio, and Cardan were all there; and 
 all had been reverently and thoroughly examined. 2 
 The ten years which had elapsed since his leaving 
 college (he was now only twenty-six) had not lessened 
 his lively repugnance to the verbal tyranny of the 
 Peripatetics, yet he shunned falling into the opposite 
 errors of reckless anarchy and precipitation. For 
 instance, severe as he was during his whole philoso- 
 
 1 Works x. p. 330. 
 '' Works : Impetus Philosophic!, vol. ix. p. 279. 
 
34 bacon's early 
 
 phical career, in his condemnation of the theories of 
 Aristotle, he never lost sight of those unparalleled 
 attributes of the genius of the Stagirite, which have 
 obtained a world's admiration. This little work, of 
 which we have just spoken, and which he has men- 
 tioned in his letter to Fulgentio, 1 was either never 
 published, or passed without notice. We may how- 
 ever hazard the conjecture, that it was the " Valerius 
 Terminus of the Interpretation of Nature," 2 or the 
 "Eilum Labyrinthi." That it was the first sugges- 
 tion of his philosophy, is certain ; that it was the 
 offspring of so young a mind, is without a parallel. 
 But into its contents, which we can only gather on 
 probability from his maturer writings, we must not 
 inquire. 
 
 The " Valerius Terminus " may be studied with 
 the greatest advantage, although, in many respects, 
 it justifies the words of Cuffe, the secretary of the 
 Earl of Essex, when, on having read it, he remarked, 
 " that a fool could not have written such a work, and 
 a wise man would not. 3 
 
 It is also likely that, at this period, he wrote the 
 theme "in Praise of Knowledge." Vigorous and 
 inspiring truths were these for so young a man to 
 assert: "The mind is the man, and the knowledge 
 of the mind. A man is but what he knoweth. The 
 mind itself is but an accident to knowledge; for 
 knowledge is a double of that which is. The truth 
 
 1 Works : Impetus Philosophici, vol. x. p. 331. 
 2 Vauzelles : vol. i. 18, note in. 3 Works, vol. vi. p. 253. 
 
MANHOOD. 35 
 
 of being, and the truth of knowing, is all one. And 
 the pleasures of the affections greater than the plea- 
 sures of the senses." 1 
 
 That, notwithstanding all such serious and ab- 
 stract pursuits, he was ever alive to the enjoyments 
 of his age, will appear from his prominent forward- 
 ness in promoting the most popular amusement of the 
 courtly circles of that day, namely, masques. The 
 following is the first letter of his which we have on 
 record; it appears to have been addressed to the 
 Lord Keeper and Lord Chamberlain : — 
 
 " It may please your good Lordships, 
 
 "I am sorry the joint masque from the four Inns 
 of Court faileth ; wherein I conceive there is no other ground of 
 that event but impossibility. Nevertheless, because it faileth 
 out that, at this time, Gray's Inn is well furnished of gallant 
 young gentlemen, your Lordships may be pleased to know, that 
 rather than this occasion shall pass without some demonstration 
 of affection from the Inns of Court, there are a dozen gentlemen 
 of Gray's Inn, that out of the honour which they bear to your 
 Lordship and my Lord Chamberlain, to whom at their last 
 masque they were so much bounden, will be ready to furnish a 
 masque ; wishing it were in their power to perform it according 
 to their mind. And so for the present I humbly take my leave, 
 resting 
 
 u Your Lordship's very humble and much bounden 
 "F R - Bacon." 2 
 
 Lord Campbell observes: "His industry is the 
 more commendable, as he had other powerful temp- 
 
 l Works, vol. ii. p. 123. 2 Harleian MSS., vol. 7042, No. 2. See 
 
 also Bacon's Essay " Of Masques," vol. ii. p. 345, 
 
36 bacon's eaely manhood. 
 
 tations to withstand. Prom his lively wit, from his 
 having been in the best society at home, and from 
 his travels abroad, he was a most delightful compa- 
 nion, and his society was universally coveted ; yet he 
 courteously resisted these allurements, and, without 
 losing popularity, remained master of his time. On 
 high days and holidays he assisted with great glee in 
 all the festivities of the Inn ; and at the request of 
 the Benchers, he laid out walks in the garden, and 
 planted trees, some of which, on a spot which got the 
 name of " Lord Bacon's Mount, " very recently 
 remained." 1 
 
 1 Campbell, vol. ii. p. 280. 
 
CHAPTEE Y. 
 
 EACOjS t CALLED TO THE BAR. SETTOE TO THE CE0W2T 
 
 EOB, E^LOYIIEXT. 
 
 This comparatively private life of Francis Bacon 
 was soon to undergo a change. JSTever, during the 
 long course of his public and most anxious career, 
 were his high philosophical pursuits suspended ; 
 although their interruptions were so many and 
 so great. 
 
 "We cannot say that he was driven into active life 
 by necessity. He was now about twenty-six years 
 of age ; and four years afterwards (although he had 
 made no money), he wrote to his uncle, the Lord 
 Treasurer Burleigh, soliciting political employment, 
 adding : " And if your Lordship will not carry me on, 
 I will not do as Anaxagoras did, who reduced himself 
 with contemplation unto voluntary poverty; but 
 this I will do ; I will sell the inheritance that I have, 
 and purchase some lease of quick revenue, or some 
 office of gain that shall be executed by deputy, and so 
 give over all care of service, and become some sorry 
 bookmaker, or a true pioneer in that mine of truth, 
 
38 BACON CALLED TO THE BAB. 
 
 which, he said, lay so deep." ' And his later remarks 
 reveal the debate which was, at this earlier period, 
 within him, about the possibility of combining civil 
 functions with scientific habits and purposes, where 
 (as in his " Advancement of Learning," and its more 
 complete development, "De Augmentis Scientiarum") 
 he adduces, in words of his own rare eloquence, 
 instances of their union : " And that learning should 
 take up too much time or leisure : I answer, the most 
 active or busy man that hath been or can be, hath, 
 no question, many vacant times of leisure while he 
 expecteth the tides and returns of business (except 
 he be either tedious and of no dispatch, or lightly and 
 unworthily ambitious to meddle in things that may 
 be better done by others) : and then the question is but, 
 how those spaces and times of leisure shall be filled 
 and spent ; whether in pleasures or in studies, as 
 was well answered by Demosthenes to his adversary 
 2Eschines, that was a man given to pleasure, and 
 told him that his orations did smell of the lamp : 
 ' Indeed, ' said Demosthenes, * there is a great 
 difference between the things that you and I do by 
 lamp-light.' So as no man need doubt that learning 
 will expulse business, but rather it will keep and 
 defend the possession of the mind against idleness 
 and pleasure, which otherwise at unawares may enter, 
 to the prejudice of both." 2 
 
 We have quoted this, as most probably descriptive 
 of those thoughts which affected him at this crisis 
 
 l Worksj v. p. 207. 2 Ibid, i. p. 16. 
 
STJITOB TO THE CROWN. 39 
 
 of his life. Science and ambition were suitors for 
 his hand, and he reasoned upon not merely the 
 possibility, but the high wisdom of making an equal 
 covenant with both. He made that covenant. As we 
 have said before, we believe he was right. We can no 
 more readily accord monasticism to literature, than 
 we can to religion. ]STay, we object to it ; not so much 
 because every association of caste must, in propor- 
 tion, limit and prejudice, and therefore prevent the 
 mind under its influence from a sympathy with and 
 a knowledge of the universal affinities of truth; but 
 because we feel assured that, however professional 
 that mind may be in its own department, it will 
 even there have less vivacity and less vigour, and 
 therefore less success, if, instead of having the 
 chances of varied winds and currents, it gives itself 
 up to one trade-wind and one current, and thus 
 exposes itself to all the hazards of a calm. 
 
 Francis Bacon was called to the bar in 1586, 
 when scarcely twenty-five years of age. The rules 
 of the profession then still kept him from practice, 
 until he should be called "within bars." l In his 
 eagerness for opportunities for action, he sought 
 from Lord Burleigh a dispensation from this delay. 
 But his uncle, now petulant from gout and old age, 
 
 1 " In 1586 he was called to the outer bar, but I apprehencr, according 
 to the laws then prevailing-, was not entitled to practise till he had got 
 another step, which was coming within bars. Some writers, not un- 
 naturally, suppose that this was an application for a silk gown, and that 
 Bacon having got into great practice in stuff, now wished to be " called 
 within the bar," in the modern sense of the phrase; whereas, in reality, 
 his ambition then was only to become " an inner barrister " before his 
 time, that he might be entitled to begin practice in court."— Campbell, 
 ii. p. 281. 
 
40 BACON CALLED TO THE BAE. 
 
 returned him a rebuke for his youthful " arrogancy 
 and overweening." His answer, if ingenuous, ought 
 to have disarmed his powerful relative, for "he sub- 
 missively promised to profit Jbj such good advice ; 
 and so wishing unto his lordship all honour, and 
 to himself continuance of his lordship's good opinion, 
 with mind and means to deserve it, he humbly took 
 his leave.' ' * 
 
 This, his modesty, soon obtained its reward. He 
 was, at an earlier period than usual, admitted to the 
 " inner bar." The Society of Gray's Inn also elected 
 him a bencher, and gave him^a still more flattering 
 testimony, in appointing him to the readership in 
 law. In this he first displayed his past devotion 
 to the preparatory studies of his profession, and gave 
 sure and certain promise of that characteristic elo- 
 quence for which he was afterNvards so much dis- 
 tinguished. He seems to have acted upon the 
 conviction, which he recorded afterwards in " the 
 Advancement of Learning," that "it is a thing not 
 hastily to be condemned, to clothe and adorn the 
 obscurity even of philosophy itself, with sensible 
 and plausible elocution; for hereof we have great 
 examples in Xenophon, Cicero, Seneca, Plutarch, 
 and of Plato also in some degree." 2 It is most 
 probable that his work "On the Elements of the 
 Common Laws of England," which he published 
 some eight years later, was the outline of his 
 " Eeadings." 3 
 
 l Campbell, ii. p. 281. 2 Works, i. p. 28. 3 ibid, iv. p. 1. 
 
ST7IT0E TO THE CEOW>\ 41 
 
 As the result of his eminence as a law lecturer, 
 perhaps in grateful recollection of his father's long 
 and faithful services, perhaps too from her remem- 
 brance of the nattering passage which had been 
 between herself and " her young Lord Keeper,'' 
 queen Elizabeth appointed Francis Bacon, when he 
 was only twenty-eight years of age, her majesty's 
 " Counsel Extraordinary." It is more than possible 
 that she had been intensely gratified by the incense 
 of adulation which the young lawyer waved before 
 her majesty, both by letters of customary homage 
 and above all, by his " Discourse in the Praise of his 
 Sovereign." l We hold, that so sadly blind is our 
 heart's vanity, that provided the insincerity of the 
 flatterer be not audible, there are no terms of com- 
 pliment so strong, as that they should utterly fail of 
 producing a favourable impression. And seeing that, 
 the habit and idiom of the times being taken into 
 account, this eulogium on her state-wisdom, on her 
 disinterestedness, on her clemency and beneficence, on 
 her glorious contrast to all contemporary sovereigns, 
 and last, not least, on her beauty (withered though 
 she was), was of the highest order of elegance, and 
 relieved by the noblest thoughts, we cannot wonder 
 if it fostered her ancient predilection for himself. 
 
 This was an honour which had never been con- 
 ferred before. But it brought him no solid advan- 
 tage, and it prematurely committed him to a position 
 which was political, more than professional; and thus 
 
 1 Works, iii. p. 22. 
 
42 BACON CALLED TO THE BAR. 
 
 plunged him, in very early life, into intrigues which 
 we must now proceed to detail. 
 
 Before doing so, however, we must mention that 
 Francis Bacon's practice at the bar still continued 
 small, and far from lucrative. In one letter to his 
 uncle, Lord Burleigh, he had the mortification to 
 have to say: " Though I cannot accuse myself that 
 I am either prodigal or slothful, yet my health is not 
 to spend, nor my course to get." In another letter, 
 and in a still more desponding mood : " I see well 
 the bar will be my bier." These sad expressions 
 were uttered when he, very undignifiedly, be- 
 sought some state employment from the lord 
 treasurer. He succeeded, but in obtaining only 
 the reversion of the registrarship of the Star Cham- 
 ber, worth about £1600 a year; and he had to wait 
 for it for twenty years; so that, with a natural im- 
 patience, he said of it: "It was like another man's 
 fair ground battening upon his house, which might 
 mend his prospect, but did not fill his barns." 
 
 Mixed up with almost servile entreaties for place, 
 we find such noble words as the following : "I con- 
 fess that I have as vast contemplative ends, as I 
 have moderate civil ends: for I have taken all 
 knowledge to be my province ; and if I could purge 
 it of two sorts of rovers, whereof the one with 
 frivolous disputations, confutations, and verbosities; 
 the other, with blind experiments and auricular 
 traditions and impostures, hath committed so many 
 spoils; I hope I should bring in industrious ob- 
 
SUITOR TO THE CftOWST. 43 
 
 servations, grounded conclusions, and profitable 
 inventions and discoveries ; the best state of that 
 province. This, whether it be curiosity, or vain 
 glory, or nature, or, if one take it favourably, philan- 
 thropia, is so fixed in my mind as it cannot be 
 removed. And I do easily see, that place of any 
 reasonable countenance doth bring commandment of 
 more wits than of a man's own : which is the thing 
 I greatly affect." 1 
 
 Herein it must be evident with what a subordinate 
 purpose he craved after competency ; how, although 
 there were intermingling with it those strong im- 
 pulses of political ambition and love of magnificence 
 which caused his ultimate downfall, there was ever 
 uppermost in his mind his passion for philosophy; 
 and how he would have welcomed quietude from 
 pecuniary care, chiefly as a facility for its prose- 
 cution. 
 
 And further, we find that even moral presenti- 
 ments strengthened this wish for a walk in life 
 less obtrusive, and less free from temptations than 
 that of diplomatic struggle. "My estate, to confess 
 a truth to your lordship, is weak and indebted, and 
 needeth comfort ; for both my father, though I think 
 I had the greatest part in his love to all his children, 
 yet in his wisdom, served me in as a last comer ; and 
 myself, in mine own industry, have rather refused 
 and aspired to virtue than to gain: whereof I am 
 not yet wise enough to repent me, &c. 2 
 
 i Works, v. p. 207. 2 Ibid, Yi. p. 33. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 COMMENCEMENT OF BACON'S POLITICAL CAKEEB. 
 
 Befoee we enter upon that "sea of politics" on 
 which Bacon was about to sail, we must take a 
 survey of the frequent storms and shoals which 
 then made its navigation more than ordinarily dan- 
 gerous. 
 
 The lord treasurer Burleigh, of whom we have 
 already spoken, together with his son, Sir Robert 
 Cecil, — the one the uncle, the other the cousin-german 
 of Bacon, — were the chiefs of queen Elizabeth's 
 ministry. Sir Walter Raleigh, and Coke, the solicitor 
 general, were their two most powerful confederates. 
 It would seem singular that the Earl of Essex, 
 perhaps the most beloved of all her majesty's 
 favourites, placed himself in " opposition," notwith- 
 standing her unqualified confidence in her ministers. 
 But it was far different from the parliamentary 
 "opposition" of more recent days. It was no 
 dissent from the home or foreign policy of the 
 government. It was rather a personal antagonism, 
 having for its object to obtain an exclusive ascendancy 
 
EACOX's POLITICAL CAEEE2. 45 
 
 in the queen's favour, and in the distribution of crown 
 patronage. And thence it followed that the conflict 
 was all the more virulent. 
 
 The Earl of Essex had scarcely reached more than 
 the prime of his youth. His high birth gave him a 
 natural access to his sovereign; and constant inter- 
 course, aided by a bravery which was chivalrous, 
 and a generosity of character which bordered on 
 romance, facilitated his ascent in her affections. 
 His education had been liberal, and his love for 
 letters and for literary men attracted to his circle 
 the most distinguished writers of the day. In the 
 crowd which thronged his halls, there might be seen 
 two of the greatest spirits of any age ; the myriad- 
 minded Shakespeare, and the universal- minded 
 Bacon. The one was cherished by his own choice 
 friend, the Earl of Southampton; the other, by Essex 
 himself. 
 
 It will be pardonable, — it is a necessary digres- 
 sion, — to advert to the utter ignorance which Bacon 
 seems to have had of Shakespeare, although they 
 must have often met each other, both in the mansions 
 of these two noblemen, and, more distantly, at the 
 exhibitions of the drama before the queen. At the 
 time of which we are now speaking, the fame of 
 Shakespeare, among his contemporaries, was estab- 
 lished. Even then he is spoken of by a critic of the 
 day, as indisputably the greatest of English drama- 
 tists. And our marvel is, not so much that, as a 
 poet, he escaped Bacon's admiration (who, though he 
 
46 bacon's political caeeeb. 
 
 had an imaginative faculty almost equal to his intel- 
 lectual, had nothing of that passion which poetry 
 demands), as that the ever-varying phases of human 
 character into which the great dramatist multiplied 
 himself, should have been overlooked by one who 
 was as profound a moralist as he was a natural 
 philosopher. 
 
 But to return: Essex, the first at court, at the 
 tournament, and in the field ; more ennobled by his 
 acquirements than by his peerage, and more loved 
 for his patronage of science than for his fashionable 
 elegance, was also the idol of the people. Though 
 far inferior in the higher faculties to Sir Walter 
 Ealeigh, who was now past his prime, he was his 
 true successor in the union of the martial and mental 
 graces, of high breeding and popular companionship. 
 
 Such a leader of the " opposition " must have often 
 alarmed Lord Burleigh and his colleagues, and they 
 must have scanned with the utmost anxiety every 
 new member that was added to his phalanx. 
 
 How great then must have been their chagrin 
 when they found Bacon was enrolled against them ! 
 A new parliament had been summoned, and the 
 young barrister and " counsel extraordinary" took 
 his seat for Middlesex. 1 The prime minister and 
 his son had kept down their aspiring relative; had 
 called him before the queen "a speculative man, 
 
 1 Bacon, however, had heen a silent member in three previous parlia- 
 ments, viz. in 1585, for Melcombe Regis ; in 1586, for Taunton ; and in 
 1588, for Liverpool. 
 
 Vide Browne Willis's Notitia Parliamentaria, and D'Ewes's Journals, 
 
BACON ? S POLITICAL CABEEE. 47 
 
 indulging himself in philosophical reveries, and cal- 
 culated more to perplex than to promote public 
 business;" and he was now determined to revenge 
 himself. With consummate tact, instead of instantly 
 proclaiming his defiance, he seized, as the subject of 
 his first speech, the topic which of all others showed 
 his reading to have been as practical as it was vast. 
 It was that of "law reform." "I did," he said, 
 "take great contentment in her Majesty's speech, 
 delivered by the lord keeper, how that it was a 
 thing not to be done suddenly, nor scarce a year 
 would suffice to purge the statute book, the volumes 
 of law being so many in number, that neither 
 common people can half practise them, nor lawyers 
 sufficiently understand them. The Eomans appointed 
 ten men, who were to collect or recall all former 
 laws, and to set forth those twelve tables so much of 
 all men commended. And Louis ix, king of Trance, 
 did the like in reforming his laws." .... The 
 house was seized with admiration, and he then took 
 the position, which he never lost, as the first speaker 
 in that assembly. * 
 
 This speech has another point of interest. It is 
 one of many illustrations how, in his early manhood, 
 
 1 " There happened in my time," says Ben Jonson, speaking of 
 Bacon, "one noble speaker, who 'was full of gravity in his speaking, 
 His language, where he could spare or pass by a jest, was nobly cen- 
 sorious. No man ever spoke more neatly, more pressly, more weightily, 
 or suffered less emptiness, less idleness, in what he uttered. No member 
 of his speech but consisted of his own graces. His hearers could not 
 cough or look aside from him without loss. He commanded when he 
 spoke, and had his judges angry and pleased at his devotion. No man 
 had their affections more in his power. The fear of every man who 
 heard him was lest he should make an end." 
 D'Ewes's Journals, 1593. 
 
48 BACONS POLITICAL CAHEEH. 
 
 he adopted great purposes to which he clung tena- 
 ciously throughout his life. To realize this "law 
 reform" was his fond ambition up to his last, as well 
 as in the first days of his political career. Still 
 earlier were his outlines of that capacious philosophy, 
 the filling up of which absorbed every leisure moment, 
 and to which he fell a martyr. There was a con- 
 tinuous oneness in his mental development. It was 
 an unbroken intellectual manifestation. Inconsis- 
 tencies, chasms it had none. Alas, that such things 
 were left to disfigure his moral life ! 
 
 The next step which he took in parliament was, 
 as far as his ambitious calculations were concerned, 
 very ill advised. Most probably, it was simply the 
 movement of his party, and had as its object the 
 embarrassment of the ministry merely. It was a 
 proposal to modify the government measures for 
 supplies. The question was then a far more personal 
 one with the sovereign than it could be now ; and 
 queen Elizabeth regarded it as an attack upon 
 herself. In his speech " to the subsidy demanded, 
 he propounded three questions, which he desired 
 might be answered : the first, impossibility or diffi- 
 culty; the second, danger or discontentment; and 
 thirdly, a better manner of supply. For impossibi- 
 lity, the poor man's rent is such as they are not able 
 to yield it. The gentlemen must sell their plate, and 
 farmers their brass pots, ere this will be paid ; and 
 as for us, we are here to search the wounds of the 
 realm, and not to skin them over. We shall breed 
 
bacon's political caeeee. 49 
 
 discontentment in paying these subsidies, and en- 
 danger her majesty's safety, which must consist 
 more in the love of the people than in their wealth. 
 This being granted, other princes hereafter will look 
 for the like, so that we shall put an evil precedent on 
 ourselves and our posterity. " He concluded with a 
 motion, which was carried, for a " committee to 
 deliberate and consult in what proportion they might 
 now relieve her majesty with subsidies, in respect of 
 those many and great enemies against whose power 
 and malice she was to provide." 1 
 
 We believe, as we have just hinted, that this was 
 a party measure. But the " opposition " in general, 
 and Bacon in particular, showed a singular want of 
 political sagacity in adopting it. As yet, there had 
 been nothing of that resistance to the crown which, 
 soon afterwards, became so vehement ; and therefore, 
 it cannot be supposed that Bacon's resolution was 
 intentionally directed against her majesty. But her 
 minister had possessed her mind against Lord Essex, 
 as endeavouring to control her, and the haughty 
 monarch, shrewd though she was, viewed this speech 
 of Bacon as one of his leader's efforts to effect his 
 purpose. The partisan was slowly, if ever forgiven. 
 But, thenceforth, the honourable, high-minded Essex 
 identified Bacon's interests with his own. 
 
 We would ask for especial attention to this fact. 
 Hereafter, we shall have to speak with severe dis- 
 tinctness upon Bacon's conduct to Lord Essex, and 
 
 i D'Ewes's Journals, 1593. 
 I) 
 
50 bacon's political careeb. 
 
 to dwell upon the obligations of good offices and of 
 wealth under which the latter laid the former. It 
 must therefore be borne in mind, that their fortunes 
 became allied ; and so, conventionally considered, 
 the bounty of Lord Essex was not an alms to the 
 political follower who had been injured by his zeal 
 in his leader's tactics. Bacon's subsequent conduct 
 must be tested by the laws of friendship solely. 
 
 He soon found himself in a critical dilemma. He 
 was aspiring to some political or legal appointment ; 
 but to his great dismay, he found he had incensed 
 her majesty, and both the lord treasurer and the 
 lord keeper were commanded to inform him, " that 
 he must never more look to her for favour or promo- 
 tion." ' 
 
 Upon this communication he wrote to the lord 
 treasurer Burleigh : — 
 
 " It may please your lordship, 
 
 "I was sorry to find, by your lordship's speech 
 yesterday, that my last speech in parliament, delivered in dis- 
 charge of my conscience and duty to God, her majesty, and my 
 country, was offensive. If it were misreported, I would be glad 
 to attend your lordship to disavow anything I said not; if it 
 were misconstrued, I would be glad to expound myself, to exclude 
 any sense I meant not. If my heart be misjudged by imputa- 
 tion of popularity or opposition, by any envious or officious 
 informer, I have great wrong; and the greater, because the 
 manner of my speech did most evidently shew, that I spake only 
 and simply to satisfy my conscience, and not with any advantage 
 or policy to sway the cause : and my terms carried all significa- 
 tion of duty and zeal toward her majesty and her service. It is 
 
BACON'S POLITICAL CAItEEB. 51 
 
 true that, from the beginning, whatsoever was above a double 
 subsidy, I did wish might, for precedent sake, appear to be 
 extraordinary, and, for discontent's sake, might not have been 
 levied upon the poorer sort ; though otherwise, I wished it as 
 rising, as I think this will prove, and more. This was my mind, 
 I confess it: and, therefore, I most humbly pray your good 
 'lordship, first, to continue me in your own good opinion ; and 
 then to perform the part of an honourable friend towards your 
 poor servant and alliance, in drawing her majesty to accept of 
 the sincerity and simplicity of my heart, and to bear with the 
 rest, and restore me to her majesty's good favour, which is to 
 me dearer than my life. And so, &c. 
 
 "Your lordship's most humble in all duty, 
 April, 1593. " F R - Bacon/' i 
 
 He also wrote to Sir John Puckering, the lord 
 keeper : — 
 
 w My lord, 
 
 u It is a great grief to me, joined with marvel, 
 that her majesty should retain an hard conceit of my speeches 
 in parliament. It might please her sacred majesty to think 
 what my end should be in these speeches, if it were not duty, 
 and duty alone. I am not so simple, but I know the common 
 beaten way to please. And whereas popularity hath been 
 objected, I muse what care I should take to please many, that 
 take a course of life to deal with few. On the other side, her 
 majesty's grace and particular favour towards me hath been 
 such, as I esteem no worldly thing above the comfort to enjoy 
 it, except it be the conscience to deserve it. But if the not 
 seconding of some particular person's opinion shall be presump- 
 tion, and to differ upon the manner, shall be to impeach the end ; 
 it shall teach my devotion not to exceed wishes, and those in 
 silence. Yet, notwithstanding, to speak vainly as in grief, it 
 
 i Works, v. r . 213. 
 
52 bacon's political career. 
 
 may be her majesty hath discouraged as good a heart as ever 
 looked toward her service, and as void of self-love. And so in 
 more grief than I can well express, and much more than I can 
 well dissemble, I leave your lordship, being as ever, 
 
 fc Your lordship's intirely devoted, &c. 
 
 "F R - Bacon." i 
 
 There is nothing pusillanimous or sycophantic in 
 either of these letters, save where, in the latter, 
 he says, " It shall teach my devotion not to ex- 
 ceed wishes, and those in silence," he may be 
 thought to surrender up himself to the future dicta- 
 tion of his sovereign. Unhappily he did so, and 
 that most completely. Thenceforth his speeches, 
 although numerous and decided, were studiously free 
 of every thing that could be offensive to her. 
 
 But he was soon to find, both that the royal 
 memory was tenacious of his fault, and that the 
 friendship of the Earl of Essex only placed him at 
 an increased disadvantage. The solicitor general- 
 ship, April 10, 1594, became vacant by Coke's being 
 made attorney general, and there arose a long and 
 earnest struggle for his former office. We have now 
 to present Bacon in the attitude of a suitor, and 
 with most of those painful attributes which that 
 character involves. We have to give instances not 
 only of his ambition, which was both reasonable and 
 noble, but of a degree of importunity, of little- 
 minded address, of impatience, and of petulance 
 under disappointment, which were utterly unworthy 
 
 1 Works, vi. p. 2. 
 
BACON S POLITICAL CAEEEE. 53 
 
 of his high claims and his boasted philosophy. Yet 
 we must not fail to qualify much of our surprise 
 at his proceedings; for at that day a mode of can- 
 vassing for political preferment was adopted which, 
 in our own time, would be regarded as degrading 
 . as it would be sure to be unsuccessful. 
 
 No candidate could have had more plausible 
 grounds for hope. He was the nephew of the 
 prime minister and the cousin of Eobert Cecil, the 
 Secretary of State elect. He was " counsel ex- 
 traordinary " to the queen, though somewhat out 
 of favour. His preeminent influence in parliament 
 made his official alliance important to the crown 
 even. The majority of the judges and the bar gave 
 him their cordial suffrages ; so that, to use his own 
 expression, he was " voiced with great expectation, 
 and the wishes of all men." Added to all this, he 
 could count upon the most faithful aid, in the influ- 
 ence of the Earl of Essex upon the mind of queen 
 Elizabeth. If he failed, he was sure it could arise 
 only from some sinister and unseen machinations. 
 
 We have the letters in which he besought the 
 friendly assistance of the lord keeper Puckering, 
 Lord Burleigh, and Sir Eobert Cecil; but as we 
 shall have, on other and more critical junctures, to 
 quote similar petitions, we omit them. It is dif- 
 ficult to determine whether the last two favoured 
 his suit with her majesty, or, with disingenuous 
 secresy, opposed it. Lord Burleigh wrote to him in 
 reply:— 
 
54 BACON'S rOLITICAL CAREER. 
 
 " Nephew, 
 
 " I have no leisure to write much ; but, for 
 answer, I have attempted to place you; but her majesty hath 
 required the lord keeper to give to her the names of diverse 
 lawyers to be preferred, wherewith he made me acquainted, and 
 I did name you as a meet man, whom his lordship allowed in 
 way of friendship for your father's sake ; but he made scruple 
 to equal you with certain whom he named — as Brograve and 
 Branthwayt, whom he specially commendeth. But I will con- 
 tinue the remembrance of you to her majesty, and implore my 
 Lord of Essex's help. 
 
 " Your loving uncle r 
 " Sept. 21th, 1593. " N. Burleigh." i 
 
 This was cold and politic, but we cannot call it 
 insincere. Moreover, his cousin, Sir Eobert Cecil, 
 wrote to him in terms still more favourable, and 
 gave advice which vindicates its own honesty. It 
 would seem that, since his burst of patriotism in 
 his speech upon the subsidies, Bacon, the "counsel 
 extraordinary," had been refused audience with her 
 majesty, and Cecil urges him to redoubled efforts to 
 obtain it; "for," he says, "as I ever told you, it 
 is not likely to find the queen apt to give an office, 
 when the scruple is not removed of her forbearance 
 to speak with you. This being not yet perfected, 
 may stop good when the hour comes of conclusion, 
 though it be but a trifle, and questionless, would 
 be straight dispatched, if it were luckily handled." l 
 Bacon tried in vain to adopt this advice. 
 
 We can reconcile these marks of good feeling 
 towards Francis Bacon, with the disfavour which 
 
 ' 1 Works, vi. p. 5. 2 Ibid. 
 
L1C0X S POLITICAL CABEEB. 
 
 these two relations did unquestionably exhibit when 
 matters came to a crisis, only upon the suspicion 
 that they felt it expedient to shape their conduct 
 according to the inclination of the queen. 
 
 The lord keeper Puckering' s hostility was un- 
 • qualified. Something in the bearing or literary 
 pursuits of the young barrister, had provoked this 
 punctilious devotee to the black-lettered law-book. 1 
 
 This last circumstance may have given Eacon some 
 moments of disquietude. Eut, as yet, the influence 
 of Lord Essex had been all powerful. It was now to 
 meet with an ominous repulse, and the queen gave it, 
 not so much because she was implacable against his 
 friend, as because she was determined to check the 
 Earl himself. 
 
 It must be admitted, that the behaviour of Essex 
 was overbearing towards even the haughty queen 
 Elizabeth. So long as she could suppose herself to 
 be the only one aware of it, it was not merely pos- 
 sible, but probable, that her affection took a self- 
 soothing pleasure in forgiving it. Eut the Earl's 
 enemies were as subtle as they were numerous. 
 Looks of surprise, inuendoes, at first artfully delicate 
 but at last more unreserved, met her eye and ear. 
 Her dignity was on the eve of compromise. And, at 
 length, though late, the spirit of a Tudor showed itself 
 in an obstinate, self-sacrificing resistance. 
 
 The correspondence of the Earl of Essex with 
 Francis Eacon upon this occasion, deserves our histo- 
 
 i Works, v. p. 223. 
 
56 bacon's political caeeee. 
 
 rical study for this, as well as for the exquisite 
 unselfishness of its friendship : — 
 
 44 Sir, 
 
 tl I wrote not to you till I had had a second con- 
 ference with the queen, because the first was spent only in 
 compliments ; she in the beginning excepted all business ; this 
 day she hath seen me again. After I had followed her humour 
 in talking of those things which she could entertain me with, I 
 told her, in my absence I had written to Sir Robert Cecil, to 
 solicit her to call you to that place ; and she knew not how great 
 comfort I should take in it. Her answer in playing just was, 
 that she came not to me for that ; I should talk of those things 
 when I came to her, not when she came to me ; the term was 
 coming, and she would advise. I would have replied, but she 
 stopped my mouth. To-morrow, or the next day, I will go to 
 her, and then this excuse will be taken away. When I know 
 more, you shall know more ; and so I end, full of pain in my 
 head, which makes me write thus confusedly. 
 
 " Your most affectionate friend, 
 
 "Essex." 1 
 
 The following letter is not dated, but it is evi- 
 dently the first upon this subject : — 
 
 " Mr. Bacon, 
 
 " Your letter met me here yesterday. When I 
 came, I found the queen so wayward, as I thought it no fit time 
 to deal with her in any sort, especially since her choler grew 
 towards myself, which I have well satisfied this day, and will 
 take the first opportunity I can to move your suit. And if you 
 come hither, I pray you let me know still where you are. And 
 so, being full of business, I must end, wishing you what you 
 wish to yourself. 
 
 " Your assured friend, 
 
 " Essex." 2 
 i Works, v. p. 14. 2 ibid, p. 4. 
 
bacon's political cahees. 57 
 
 There are also many other letters upon the same 
 subject, from which it will be necessary for us to 
 give only brief extracts. For instance : Essex thus 
 addresses the lord keeper : — 
 
 "The want of assistance from them which should be 
 • Mr. Fr. Bacon's friends, makes me the more industrious myself, 
 and the more earnest in soliciting mine own friends. Upon me 
 the labour must lie of his establishment, and upon me the dis- 
 grace will light of his being refused. Therefore, I pray your 
 lordship, now account me not as a solicitor of my friend's cause, 
 but as a party interested in this ; and employ all your lordship's 
 favour to me, or strength for me, in procuring a short and 
 speedy end. For though I know it will never be carried any 
 other way, yet I hold both my friend and myself disgraced by 
 this protraction.' , 1 
 
 Again: the Earl thus assures his impatient 
 friend : — 
 
 " I went yesterday to the queen through the galleries, in 
 the morning, afternoon, and at night. I had long speech with 
 her of you, wherein I urged both the point of your extra- 
 ordinary sufficiency, proved to me not only by your last 
 argument, but by the opinion of all men I spake withal; and 
 the point of mine own satisfaction, which, I protested, should 
 be exceeding great, if, for all her unkindness and discomforts 
 past, she should do this one thing for my sake. To the first 
 she answered, that the greatness of your friends, as of my lord 
 treasurer and myself, did make men give a more favourable 
 testimony than else they would do, thinking thereby they 
 pleased us. And that she did acknowledge you had a great 
 wit, and an excellent gift of speech, and much other good 
 learning. But in law, she rather thought you could make show 
 to the uttermost of your knowledge, than that you were deep, 
 i Works, v. p. 227. 
 
58 BACON S POLITICAL CAHEEB. 
 
 To the second she said, she showed her mislike to the suit, as 
 well as I had done my affection in it ; and that if there were a 
 yielding, it was fitter to be of my side. I then added, that this 
 was an answer, with which she might deny me all things, if she 
 did not grant them at the first, which was not her manner to 
 do. But her majesty had made me suffer and give way in 
 many things else; which all I should bear, not only with 
 patience but great contentment, if she would but grant my 
 humble suit in this one. And for the pretence of the appro- 
 bation given you upon partiality, that all the world, lawyers, 
 judges, and all could not be partial to you ; for somewhat you 
 were crossed for their own interest, and some for their friends ; 
 but yet all did yield to your merit. She did in this as she 
 useth in all, went from a denial to a delay, and said, when the 
 council were all here, she would think of it ; and there was no 
 haste in determining of the place. To which I said, that my 
 sad heart had need of hasty comfort ; and therefore her majesty 
 must pardon me, if I were hasty and importunate in it." x . . . 
 
 These letters, detailing as they do the most 
 characteristic points of intercourse between Lord 
 Essex and queen Elizabeth, are singularly interest- 
 ing. They throw a genuine light upon that disposi- 
 tion for coquetry which this great female sovereign 
 ever indulged, and which she could not lay aside 
 even when the topics were political. They prove the 
 consummate address of Lord Essex, and his watch- 
 fulness of that state of mind which he, in another 
 letter, with somewhat of masculine irreverence speaks 
 of: "She doth not contradict confidently; which 
 they that know the minds of women say, is a sign 
 of yielding." And they also prove the earnestness of 
 
 1 Works, vi. p. 14. 
 
bacon's political career. 59 
 
 his affection for Bacon ; for, after having made every 
 allowance for his personal pride, which was committed 
 in this suit, no one can deny the peril to which he 
 exposed himself by his importunity, or the ingenuous 
 spirit with which he identified himself with his friend. 
 - Bacon's friends were confident of his ultimate 
 success : " One hundred pounds to fifty, you shall be 
 her solicitor," said Mr. Foulke Greville. But the 
 aspirant was worn out with a delay, which even a 
 happy issue could have scarcely redeemed, and he 
 answered: ""What though the master of the rolls, 
 and my Lord of Essex, and yourself, and others, think 
 my case without doubt ; yet, in the mean time, I 
 have a hard condition to stand, so that whatever 
 service I do to her majesty, it shall be thought but to 
 be servitium viscatum, 1 lime twigs and fetches to place 
 myself; and so I shall have envy, not thanks. This 
 is a course to quench all good spirits, and to corrupt 
 every man's nature, which will, I fear, much hurt 
 her majesty's service in the end. I have been like a 
 piece of stuff bespoken in the shop ; and if her 
 majesty will not take me, it may be, the selling by 
 parcels will be more gainful. For to be, as I told 
 you, like a child following a bird, which when he is 
 nearest, flieth away, and lighteth a little before, and 
 then the child after it again, and so in infinitum — 
 I am weary of it, as also of wearying my good 
 Mends." 2 
 
 We must add another letter, and that because 
 
 * The words "lime twigs and fetches" give the meaning. 2 Works, y. 241. 
 
60 bacon's political cabeek. 
 
 it is one of the very few instances in which the 
 mind of Francis Bacon recoiled at the servility of 
 the course which he was pursuing, and asserted its 
 own dignity and claims. It is addressed to the 
 queen : — 
 
 " Madam, 
 
 " Bemembering that your majesty had been gra- 
 cious to me, both in countenancing me, and conferring upon me 
 the reversion of a good place, and perceiving that your majesty 
 had taken some displeasure towards me, both these were argu- 
 ments to move me to offer unto your majesty my service, to the 
 end to have means to deserve your favour, and to repair my 
 error. Upon this ground, I affected myself to no great matter, 
 but only to a place of my profession, such as I do see divers 
 younger in proceeding to myself, and men of no great note, do 
 without blame aspire unto. But if any of my friends do press 
 this matter, I do assure your majesty my spirit is not with them. 
 
 " It sufficeth me that I have let your majesty know, that I am 
 ready to do that for the service, which I never would do for mine 
 own again. And if your majesty like others better, I shall, with 
 the Lacedaemonian, be glad, that there is such a choice of abler 
 men than myself. Your majesty's favour, indeed, and access to 
 your royal person, I did ever, encouraged by your own speeches, 
 seek and desire ; and I would be very glad to be redintegrate in 
 that. But I will not wrong mine own good mind so much, as 
 to stand upon that now, when your majesty may conceive I do 
 it but to make my profit of it. But my mind turneth upon other 
 wheels than those of profit. The conclusion shall be, that I wish 
 your majesty served answerable to yourself. Principis est virtus 
 maxima nosse snos. l Thus I most humbly crave pardon of my 
 boldness and plainness. God preserve your majesty." 2 
 
 This state of anxiety and suspense had continued 
 
 1 "A knowledge of his subjects is the greatest excellence in a 
 sovereign." 2 Works, vi. p. 6. 
 
EACOX's POLITICAL CAREER. Gl 
 
 from April 10th, 1594, a period of eighteen months, 
 when at last Essex and Bacon had the inexpressible 
 mortification to learn that Mr. Serjeant Fleming was 
 appointed. By this unparalleled delay, and this 
 unfair decision, her majesty had secured a double 
 purpose. She had driven the Earl to the extreme of 
 suppliancy on his friend's behalf, and then refused 
 him, in order to prove her freedom from his thral- 
 dom. Eurther, she had placed Bacon under delibe- 
 rate and long torture, and withheld the only balm 
 that could have healed him, in order to gratify her 
 anger at his patriotic popularity. 
 
 But the noble heart of Essex forgot its own wrongs, 
 and felt only for the humiliating discomfiture of 
 Bacon. In the latter s own words: " After the 
 queen had denied me the solicitor's place, for which 
 his lordship had been a long and earnest suitor on my 
 behalf, it pleased him to come to me from Richmond 
 to Twickenham Park, and brake with me, and said : 
 ' ILr. Bacon, the queen hath denied me the place for 
 you, and hath placed another ; I know you are the 
 least part of your own matter; but you fare ill, 
 because you have chosen me for your mean and 
 dependance ; you have spent your time and thoughts 
 in my matters : I die (these were his very words) if 
 I do not somewhat towards your fortune ; you shall 
 not deny to accept a piece of land which I will bestow 
 upon you.' wl Bacon accepted it, and afterwards sold 
 it for £1800. 
 
 1 Works, iii. p. 21-1. 
 
62 HACON'S TOLITICAL CAREER. 
 
 His own mind was deplorably dispirited. Some 
 eight months before, on the receipt of a discouraging 
 letter from Lord Essex, he had said : " I must confess 
 this very delay hath gone so near me, as it hath 
 
 almost overthrown my health I cannot but 
 
 conclude with myself, that no man ever read a more 
 exquisite disgrace ; and therefore, truly, my lord, I 
 was determined, if her majesty reject me, this to do. 
 My nature can take no evil ply ; but I will, by God's 
 assistance, with this disgrace of my fortune, and yet 
 with that comfort of the good opinion of so many 
 honourable and worthy persons, retire myself with a 
 couple of men to Cambridge, and there spend my life 
 in my studies and contemplations, without looking 
 back." 1 Now, however, when the suit was decided, a 
 sensation of shame stole upon him; and, as if his re- 
 tirement to Cambridge would not be privacy enough, 
 he determined on foreign travel. And yet, even in 
 his most melancholy moments he held fast his 
 elasticity : " I have lost some opinion, some time, 
 and some means ; this is my account : but then for 
 opinion, it is a blast that goeth and cometh ; for time, 
 it is true, goeth and cometh not; but yet I have 
 learned, that it may be redeemed ; for means, I value 
 that most ; and the rather, because I am purposed not 
 to follow the practice of the law, (if her majesty 
 command me in any particular, I shall be ready to do 
 her willing service), and my reason is only, because it 
 drinketh too much time, which I have dedicated to 
 
 1 Works, vi. p. 12. 
 
bacon's political caeeer. 63 
 
 better purposes. But even for that point of estate and 
 means, I partly lean to Thales' opinion, 'that a philo- 
 sopher may be rich if he will.' Thus your lordship 
 seeth how I comfort myself ; to the increase whereof, 
 I would fain please myself to believe that to be true 
 which my lord treasurer writeth ; which is, that it 
 is more than a philosopher can morally digest. Eut 
 without any such high conceit, I esteem it like 
 the pulling out of an aching tooth, which, I remem- 
 ber, when I was a child, and had little philosophy, I 
 was glad of it when it was done." 1 
 
 We have called this elasticity of character, to dis- 
 tinguish it from true moral greatness. The latter 
 shows itself in self-possession under defeat, as well as 
 in the rally of its forces. It has the acutest sensi- 
 bility, but it proves its own power in repressing all 
 the outbursts of tears and lamentations and petulant 
 resolutions; yet this effort, mighty as it is, is not 
 exhaustive ; all the prospective activities of the mind 
 remain well-braced and purposeful. "Whereas elasti- 
 city, by its very name, suggests the idea of depression. 
 A lower order of mind is this, most certainly ; for it 
 has had its moment of succumbing; the other has 
 known no surrender. Upon this distinction, we can- 
 not attribute moral greatness to Bacon. Both in the 
 present instance, and in a later and more fearful one, 
 his energies were suspended only for some seconds ; 
 but those seconds were marked by the most piteous 
 seK-abandonment. At first sight, it might be argued 
 
 i Works, v. p. 223. 
 
64 bacon's political caeeer. 
 
 that the humiliation of his later years so differed from 
 the humiliation of the failure before us, as that the 
 prostrate sufferer lost himself through remorse in the 
 one case, but from little-minded shame only, in the 
 other. Yet we shall do well to ponder over the 
 nature of that little-minded shame. It is true, it had 
 not arisen from grave errors, such as he wept over 
 afterwards, such as cost him the alliance of good men 
 and all peace of conscience. But it did arise from 
 faults which, though remotely, were akin to them. 
 Devotedly attached as he was to fame and honours, 
 and even wealth, as a means of honour, he, neverthe- 
 less, would have borne the loss of them with com- 
 parative equanimity ; but he felt ashamed of himself; 
 ashamed of the steps to which he had descended; the 
 prayers, the flatteries, the circumventions he had 
 employed. And this was a phase of guilt. And his 
 very complainings, and his capricious threatenings of 
 retirement, were, in fact, spites against himself. 
 
 These distinctions may be thought delicate, but 
 they are not fanciful. Moreover, they are of the 
 highest value, for they show that real grandeur of 
 character depends upon the consistency of those moral 
 qualities which are ordinarily, but most unjustly, 
 thought to be the inferior of their kind. 
 
 Further, it may be remarked that, if Bacon had 
 carefully cherished within his bosom the laws and 
 hopes of Christianity, he would never have yielded 
 himself up to such questionable eagerness, and thus 
 would have been saved the anguish of his disappoint- 
 
EACOX's POLITICAL CAEEE£. 65 
 
 ment ; or if they had not saved him, they would, by 
 the blessing of the Holy Spirit, have soothed him into 
 a submissive but active acquiescence. 
 
 His fretfulness, however, soon passed away. The 
 banks of the Cam yielded the palm to the banks of the 
 Thames, for the latter was the river of the court. 
 London again appeared more attractive than Paris 
 and Madrid. And so, the intended recluse recalled 
 his vows in the very morning of his novitiate ; the 
 self- ostracizing exile complacently remained at home. 
 But his purpose was no cowardly one. He anew, 
 and with increased vigour, addressed himself to life's 
 struggles. 
 
 It is said, that the humility with which he bore 
 that "yoke in his youth" which her majesty had 
 just inflicted on him, regained him the queen's con- 
 fidence, and that she made efforts to induce the new 
 solicitor general to resign in his favour; but in 
 vain. 
 
 But the gift of the Earl of Essex was indeed a 
 preferment. At Twickenham he "enjoyed the bless- 
 ings of contemplation, in that sweet solitariness which 
 collecteth the mind as shutting the eyes does the 
 sight." Thither he would repair, after the glare and 
 distractions of the term at "Westminster and at court ; 
 and although no man less needed the facilities of 
 solitude for meditation, no man ever made them 
 more available. In 1596, the year after his dis- 
 appointment, he circulated, in manuscript, "A Collec- 
 tion of some of the Principal Eules and Maxims of 
 
 E 
 
66 bacon's political cakeee. 
 
 the Common Law, with their Latitude and Extent." 
 It was not published until 1630, after his death, and 
 in union with other law tracts, entitled, "The 
 Elements of the Common Law of England;" but it 
 is still cited as a high authority. Lord Campbell 
 styles it "a specimen of the application of his 
 favourite mode of reasoning to jurisprudence, by the 
 enunciation of general truths or ' maxims,' estab- 
 lished by an extensive collection of particulars." 1 In 
 this production he may have had the subordinate 
 wish to disprove the charges of his enemies, as to his 
 legal inadequacy for the solicitor generalship; but 
 it is evidently a first-fruits of that devotion to "law 
 reform," which was one of the projects of his life. 
 
 The next year was the most memorable, perhaps, 
 in the course of Bacon's authorship. It saw his first 
 definite address to the republic of literature, when 
 he published "Essayes, Eeligious Meditations, Places 
 of Perswasion and Disswasion, 1597.*' They imme- 
 diately became "the van of English prose literature." 
 They placed their author on exactly that intellectual 
 eminence in Europe which he afterwards needed, in 
 order to command attention to vaster and more 
 original speculations. Just as Montaigne's Essays 
 were of the Erench, Eacon's were the artistic type of 
 the English mind ; the former, intuitive in sagacious 
 thought, quick in the contrasts and comparisons of 
 conventionalism, pointed in wit, and facile in expres- 
 sion; the latter reflective, subjective, genial, though 
 
 i Campbell, ii. p. 297. 
 
BACONS POLITICAL CABEEB. 67 
 
 enigniatical in humour, and solemn in style. And 
 Bacon's Essays obtained a reputation exactly corres- 
 ponding with that of the nation of which they were the 
 type. They sue for no intimacy, yet irresistibly claim 
 confidence. The eye may not sparkle at their flashes. 
 'but the deep-seated heart of man throbs at their 
 counsel. Their language may not be rapid in tone 
 and evolution, but their grave notes are attuned with 
 lighter ones to the music of the whole human soul. 
 They are translateable into all languages and in all 
 ages and amid manners of every kind. They, in 
 especial, have been said to contain "the seeds of 
 thought ;" and there is no soil of humanity in which 
 they will not germinate, as in their mother-earth. 
 
 They are, moreover, dyed with the tincture of 
 Christian sentiments, although untheological in their 
 form and matter. Combine Seneca and Eochefou- 
 cault ; refine the one of his ethical paganism, the 
 other of his mere worldly prudence ; and then elevate 
 them to the broad yet practical, the charitable yet 
 pure generalizations of Christian morals, and you 
 have the staple of Bacon's observations upon human 
 character, and of his aphorisms for human conduct. 
 "It is indeed/' Hallam remarks, "little worth 
 while to read this or any other book for reputation's 
 sake ; but very few in our language so well repay 
 the pains, or afford more nourishment to the 
 thoughts." 1 
 
 It is not our purpose to give a bibliographical 
 
 1 HaUanrs Hist, of Literature, ii. p. 513. 
 
68 bacon's political caeeeb. 
 
 account of Bacon's writings, or to submit an analysis 
 of their contents. "We would chiefly attend to any 
 points in connection with them which serve to illus- 
 trate his character. 
 
 His fraternal affection was very strong and very 
 constant. His only brother, Anthony Bacon, was a 
 man distinguished for literary attainment and diplo- 
 matic sagacity. He was the confidential friend and 
 adviser of the Earl of Essex. Bacon thus commences 
 his dedication of the Essays, &c, to him : — 
 
 u Loving and beloved brother, 
 
 " I do now like some that have an orchard ill- 
 neighboured ; that gather their fruit before it is ripe, to prevent 
 stealing. These fragments of my conceits were going to print ; 
 to labour the stay of them had been troublesome, and subject to 
 interpretation ; to let them pass had been to adventure the 
 wrong they might receive by untrue copies, or by some garnish- 
 ment which it might please any that should set them forth to 
 bestow upon them." 
 
 Further, in the warmth of his fraternal love, and 
 in circumstances which could allow of no affectation, 
 he thus refers to his brother's physical maladies : " I 
 assure you, I sometimes wish your infirmities trans- 
 lated upon myself, that her majesty might have the 
 service of so active and able a mind ; and I might 
 be, with excuse, confined to those contemplations 
 and studies, for which I am the fittest." 
 
 These extracts are well worth our notice ; for the 
 records of Bacon's private life are particularly defi- 
 cient. But these, together with several other letters 
 
EACOX's POLITICAL CAEEEE. 69 
 
 to his brother Anthony ; the terms in which he dedi- 
 cated, many years later, another edition of the Essays 
 to his brother-in-law Constable ; and, above all, the 
 touching request in his last will in reference to 
 his mother, are proofs that neither the pursuits of 
 ambition, nor the insulating speculations of phi- 
 losophy, had injured the family affections of his 
 heart. 
 
 In the October of this year, he was returned to 
 the new parliament, member for Ipswich. There is 
 nothing of importance in his speeches during its 
 sessions, except that he strove to neutralize the im- 
 pression which his former amendments on the subsi- 
 dies had produced upon the queen. l£e became her 
 champion against the liberal party, and addressed the 
 house "to make it appear by demonstration, what 
 opinion so ever be pretended by others, that in point 
 of payments to the crown, never subjects were par- 
 takers of greater freedom and ease. Whether you 
 look abroad into other countries, or look back to 
 former times in this our own country, we shall find 
 an exceeding difference in matter of taxes. We are 
 not upon excessive and exorbitant donations, nor 
 upon sumptuous and unnecessary triumphs, buildings, 
 or like magnificence, but upon the preservation, pro- 
 tection, and honour of the realm. I dare not scan 
 her majesty's actions, which it becometh me rather 
 to admire in silence. Sure I am that the treasure 
 which cometh from you to her majesty, is but a 
 vapour which riseth from the earth, and gathering into 
 
70 BACON'S POLITICAL CAKEETl. 
 
 a cloud, stayeth not there long, but, on the same 
 earth, falleth again." * 
 
 This was, indeed, the language of a courtier ; and 
 our knowledge of his recent suffering may give us a 
 strong suspicion, that he employed it in order to 
 retrieve himself. Nevertheless, we cannot charge 
 him with political apostacy. For even his obnoxious 
 speech was not against the principle or the amount 
 of the subsidies, but against the proposed details of its 
 collection. And we have already seen that the object 
 of the " opposition," of which he was a member, was 
 more to embarrass the members than the measures of 
 the ministry. 
 
 We shall conclude this chapter with three events 
 in Bacon's history, two of which were matters of 
 private life, whilst the other, though more public, 
 was strictly personal. 
 
 His earnest suit for the solicitor-generalship had 
 not been wholly from motives of ambition. He was 
 deeply in debt, and needed the emoluments of office. 
 We have seen how his expectations were blasted by 
 his father's sudden death ; he received only an eighth 
 of the sum, the whole of which had been intended for 
 himself. He had been nurtured in a court, and 
 accustomed to an expenditure which, though large, 
 was demanded of his rank and prospects. The 
 poverty which now burst on him was comparative; 
 but for him it was poverty. His profits from the bar 
 were extremely small ; his rewards from the crown, 
 
 i 1 Pari. Hist. p. 905. 
 
EACOX's POLITICAL CAEEEE. 71 
 
 nothing but bare honour. His seat in parliament, and 
 his costly experiments in science, drained his purse. 
 And to complete his misery, his love of splendour, 
 and his recklessness of even the little that he had, 
 amounted to infatuation. 
 
 * From this dilemma, he sought for escape in a 
 wealthy marriage. He sought the hand of Lady 
 Hatton, a young widow with a large and unrestricted 
 fortune. Add to this, she was the granddaughter of 
 his uncle, the lord treasurer, a still nearer relation- 
 ship to whom would have been of the highest value. 
 How he personally wooed her, we know not ; but we 
 know that he sought and obtained the best offices of 
 Lord Essex, both with herself and with her parents. 
 Bacon begged his lordship's interest, trusting, he 
 said, "that the beams of his lordship's pen might 
 dissolve the coldness of his fortune." That earnest, 
 indefatigable friend thought for him, and sued for 
 him, although he himself was overwhelmed with 
 the critical anxieties of his Cadiz expedition. To the 
 father he writes: " To warrant my moving of you to 
 incline favourably to his suit, I will only add this, 
 that if she were my sister or daughter, I protest 
 I would as confidently resolve to further it, as I now 
 persuade you." He told her mother: " If my faith 
 be anything, I protest, if I had one as near to me as 
 she is to you, I had rather match her with him than 
 with men of far greater titles." But it was all in 
 vain. If there were any love for Lady Hatton in 
 Bacon's bosom, his lot was severe, for she refused him ; 
 
72 bacon's political caeeer. 
 
 and even if there were not, he had not only to return 
 to his chambers in blank despair at his accumulated 
 debts, but to be wild at learning that she had pre- 
 ferred a rival in the person of Sir Edward Coke, his 
 own vindictive and powerful competitor in the 
 state. 
 
 And his debts remained! The chances of his 
 forming this alliance had hitherto quieted his credi- 
 tors ; but now they clamoured, and, at length, one 
 of them seized upon his person. The future great 
 statesman, lord chancellor, and philosopher, became 
 the inmate of a " sponging-house." 
 
 His friends released him; but his bitter and 
 degrading annoyances were not over. With his heart 
 wrung with vexation, to say the least, at the rejec- 
 tion of his hand; with his name the subject of the 
 gibes of the spendthrift, and the condemnations of the 
 prudent ; threatened with loss of caste in society and 
 at court ; with reflections made all the more poignant 
 by his consciousness of having the highest powers and 
 attractions — he has to repair to "Westminster Hall. 
 Coke is seated near him! The bitter, tyrannical, 
 ungentlemanly attorney-general, who had circum- 
 vented him in law and in love, watches him, meets 
 his eye with a look of ungenerous triumph, scans the 
 noble features which were blanched with the fear of 
 a debtor's jail, and the instant he thinks him vulner- 
 able upon a point of form, starts up, and thus wounds 
 and worries a monarch among minds: — 
 
 Mr. Attorney. " Mr. Bacon, if you have any tooth 
 
BACOX S POLITICAL CAREEK. 73 
 
 against me, pluck it out; for it will do you more hurt 
 than all the teeth in your head will do you good." 
 
 Bacon f coldly J. "Mr. Attorney, I respect you; 
 I fear you not ; and the less you speak of your great- 
 ness, the more I will think of it." 
 ' Mr. Attorney. "I think scorn to stand upon terms 
 of greatness towards you, who are less than little, less 
 than the least," (adding other such strange light 
 terms, with that insulting which cannot be ex- 
 pressed.) 
 
 Bacon f stirred, yet self possessed J. " Mr. Attorney, 
 do not depress me so far ; for I have been your better, 
 and may be again, when it pleases the queen." 
 
 " With this," says Bacon, "he spake neither I nor 
 himself could tell what, as if he had been born 
 attorney -general; and in the end, bade me not meddle 
 with the queen's business, but with mine own ; and 
 that I was unsworn." 
 
 Bacon. " Sworn or not sworn is all one to an 
 honest man; I have ever set my service first, and 
 myself second ; and I wish to God that you would do 
 the like." 
 
 Mr. Attorney. " It were good to clap a capias 
 utlegatum upon your back." 
 
 Bacon. "I thank God you cannot; but you are at 
 fault, and hunt upon an old scent." 1 
 
 "He gave me," adds Bacon, "a number of dis- 
 graceful words besides, which I answered with siler ce, 
 and showing that I was not moved by them." 
 
 1 Works, vi. p. 46. Campbell, p. 302. 
 
74 bacon's political careeb. 
 
 At a scene so disgraceful, and in open court, we 
 cannot but be indignant. Yet, in truth, we feel 
 much more so with Bacon than with his rude and 
 vulgar assailant. Coke could know no better. His 
 asperity was that of professional insolence towards 
 unprofessional learning ; it was the vaunt of the mole, 
 with its microscopic eye, over the broad, sun-loving 
 glance of the eagle. But Bacon did know better. 
 We mean not to insinuate that his retorts misbecame 
 him or his position. They were mild and dignified. 
 But he knew that to continue in such an atmosphere 
 of low strife, to allow the recurrence of such gross 
 insults, and the renewal of such polluting competi- 
 tion, was beneath himself, beneath his own sublime 
 aims in science, and unnecessary for one whose 
 mission was not active, but contemplative. Happily, 
 no such humiliation can now await any member of 
 that profession which, in its very conflicts, is the 
 guardian of the law ; and if there did, there would be 
 noble spirits whose special talents would, from their 
 duty to their country, bind them to defy it, and to 
 continue at their post; but Bacon ever felt his 
 original inaptitude ; was ever longing for moral power 
 to retreat ; and it would have been well for his own 
 best fame, for philosophy and religion, and for his 
 good conscience, if he had left Coke to strut and crow 
 within his own circlet, and had soared into his native 
 regions of vastness and equanimity. 
 
 All these circumstances were, indeed, dishearten- 
 ing. But there was one other, and still more painful. 
 
BACOx's POLITICAL C ALLELE. 75 
 
 He liad to mourn over the estrangement of Lord 
 Essex, which, though slight, though it did not 
 interfere with his lordship's readiness to serve him, 
 must have pained him deeply. "I was not called,' ' 
 he says, "or advised with some year and a-half 
 'before his lordship's going into Ireland." * "We have 
 a long letter from him to the Earl, filled with the 
 most faithful and affectionate counsels, when the 
 relation of that nobleman to queen Elizabeth had 
 become precarious. He strove to awaken his friend 
 to his peril, by the following supposed soliloquy of 
 the queen about her favourite : "A man of a nature 
 not to be ruled, that hath the advantage of my 
 affection, and knoweth it ; of an estate not grounded 
 to his greatness; of a popular reputation; of a 
 military dependence ! " And then he continues : 
 "I demand whether there can be a more dangerous 
 image than this represented to any monarch living, 
 much more to a lady, and of her majesty's appre- 
 hension?" 2 Then follows a series of counsels so 
 wise, so prophetic as to the consequences of their 
 being rejected, that we could adduce from all Bacon's 
 writings, nothing more marked by his all-compre- 
 hensive sagacity. If Essex had followed them, he 
 would have soothed the proud self -jealousy of the 
 queen; he would have silenced his enemies; he 
 would have retained such happiness at court as never 
 to have entertained his mad and fatal undertaking of 
 the government of Ireland. Eut in the beginning 
 
 1 Works, iii. p. 217. 2-Wot]^ v. p. 228. 
 
76 bacon's political caeeee. 
 
 of this letter we find that he had already taken 
 hurt by his friend's "careful and devoted counsel." 
 
 In the midst of all these sorrows, Bacon had 
 gleams of light and sunshine. Her majesty, in 
 token of the renewal of her favour, visited him at 
 Twickenham j and this made him sure of professional 
 advancement upon the next vacancy. His practice 
 at the bar increased, and his pecuniary difficulties 
 lessened. He was accepted as the first of orators 
 in the House of Commons; as among the very first 
 of authors in Europe. Lord Campbell observes : 
 " This I think may be considered the most auspicious 
 period of Bacon's career." But we must change the 
 scene. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BACON AND THE EAEL OF ESSEX, 
 
 Theee is no one fact in Bacon's history which 
 demands a more patient and dispassionate examina- 
 tion, than that on which we have now to enter. At 
 a later period, we must inquire into other grounds of 
 serious allegation against him ; but grave as we shall 
 find them, they are trivial in comparison with those 
 which concern his conduct towards his friend, the 
 Earl of Essex. TVe will, therefore, narrate the cir- 
 cumstances, and then consider his defence. 
 
 In regard to those movements of the Earl which 
 ultimately led him to the scaffold, it will suffice to 
 state, that he sought and obtained the lord lieute- 
 nancy of Ireland, under the solemn engagement to 
 take immediate and energetic measures to quell the 
 alarming insurrection which the Earl of Tyrone had 
 organized, and was leading; that on his arrival in 
 Dublin, instead of instantly marching his troops 
 against the centre of the rebels, he diverged off to 
 spots of inferior importance, and thus first incurred 
 
78 BACON AND ESSEX. 
 
 the queen's warm disapprobation; that, afterward, 
 when he came upon the main force of the rebels, 
 with his own camp weakened by sickness, desertion, 
 and discontent, he entered on a truce with his 
 enemy; that this, added to her irritation at the 
 querulous letters which he sent home, made his 
 sovereign furious, — who, whilst loading him with 
 her displeasure, commanded him still to remain in 
 Ireland ; that, in disobedience of her order, he sud- 
 denly left his government, repaired to court, and, 
 trusting to the influence of his personal appeals to 
 her heart, forced himself into her presence, and 
 wrung from her, in her moment of woman's weak- 
 ness, a favourable reception ; that, on the recovery of 
 her feelings, she ordered him to be confined to his 
 chamber, to be twice examined by her council, and 
 then committed him to the custody of the lord 
 keeper Egerton, in whose house he was to be 
 excluded from all company; that, after various 
 passages of relenting kindness, her exasperation at 
 the news she received from Ireland became so great, 
 that she ordered him to be examined by the Privy 
 Council, by whom he was condemned to lose his 
 posts as a counsellor, earl marshal of England, and 
 master of the ordnance ; to return to his own house, 
 and to continue there a prisoner during her majesty's 
 pleasure; that there, inflamed with the fever of 
 anxiety and hope, he burst all bounds of moderation, 
 plotted schemes for the overthrow of her majesty's 
 ministers, and the seizure of her person ; and finally 
 
BACON AND ESSEX. 79 
 
 that, betrayed and apprehended, he was brought to 
 trial, was condemned, and executed. 
 
 This sunrrnary, rapid as it is, is enough for our 
 present purpose. We have neither to enlarge upon 
 the criminality of his conduct, nor to state its pallia- 
 'tions. "We have, the rather, to bear in mind that 
 Bacon was bound to him by the claims of the most 
 disinterested and active friendship, and to inquire 
 into his behaviour towards the imprudent and then 
 guilty Earl. 
 
 There was but one of four courses open. Either 
 he could promptly fly to the side of his misguided 
 and rash friend, the moment he had returned from 
 Ireland, and while his offences were comparatively 
 venial, and could there resolve to employ all his 
 energies to save him from disgrace ; and, if unsuc- 
 cessful, to mourn over it in silence, even though his 
 silence should cost hi m dear. 
 
 Or, he could assume, from the beginning, a strict 
 neutrality, and keep aloof both from the offender and 
 the offended. 
 
 Or, under the colour of a loyal patriotism, he 
 could indignantly sever himself from all sympathy 
 with the criminal, and hold all his powers at the 
 command of the sovereign, in order to punish insub- 
 ordination. 
 
 Or, lastly, without prescribing to himself any one 
 uniform line of action, he could follow his first 
 impulses, and cherish or repress them, just as his 
 own interests might dictate. 
 
80 BACON AND ESSEX. 
 
 If he had taken the first, nothing more than what 
 the laws of true friendship require would have been 
 sacrificed; for, at the commencement, the Earl's im- 
 prudence involved no dishonour ; and Bacon would 
 have so added fidelity to his other glories, that the 
 shame of his later life would have been deep in 
 shadow. And, moreover, such was the influence of 
 his sagacity and wisdom over the reckless and uncal- 
 culating Earl, that there is the highest probability 
 he could have restrained him from the rash move- 
 ments which proved his ruin. If he had taken the 
 second course, and remained strictly neutral, he 
 might have been taxed with insensibility, or ingrati- 
 tude, or cowardice, but not with treachery. The 
 third line might have been open as a moral question. 
 But he took the last. 
 
 The materials by which we may guide our judg- 
 ment, will be derived chiefly from Bacon's own 
 defence of his own conduct: a defence which he 
 deemed necessary, in consequence of the scorn with 
 which he was treated by an indignant British public. 
 In our adopting this document, every thing will be 
 in his favour; yet, with all our anxiety to clear so 
 great a name, we must study it with a vigilant 
 impartiality, and compare its assertions with those 
 testimonies from other sources which are available. 
 
 It is addressed to the Earl of Devonshire, and com- 
 mences thus : — 
 
 * It may please your good lordship, I cannot be ignorant, 
 and ought to be sensible of the wrong which I sustain in com- 
 
BACON AND ESSEX. 8l 
 
 mon speech, as if I had been false or unthankful to that noble 
 but unfortunate earl, the Earl of Essex : and, for satisfying the 
 Tulgar sort, I do not so much regard it ; though I love a good 
 name, but yet as an handmaid and attendant of honesty and 
 virtue. For I am of his opinion that said pleasantly, ' That it 
 was a shame to him that was a suitor to the mistress, to make 
 love to the waiting-woman ; ' and therefore, to woo or court 
 common fame, otherwise than it folio we th on honest courses, 
 I, for my part, find not myself fit or disposed. But, on the 
 other side, there is no worldly thing that concerneth myself 
 which I hold more dear than the good opinion of certain 
 persons ; among which there is none I would more willingly 
 give satisfaction unto, than to your lordship. First, because 
 you loved my Lord of Essex, and therefore will not be partial 
 towards me, which is part of that I desire : next, because it 
 hath ever pleased you to show yourself to me an honourable 
 friend, and so, no baseness in me to seek to satisfy you : and 
 lastly, because I know your lordship is excellently grounded in 
 the true rules and habits of duties and moralities, which must 
 be they which shall decide this matter ; wherein, my lord, my 
 defence needeth to be but simply and brief; namely, that 
 whatsoever I did concerning that action and proceeding, was 
 done in my duty and service to the queen and the state; in 
 which I would not show myself false-hearted nor faint-hearted 
 for any man's sake living. For every honest man that hath his 
 heart well planted, will forsake his king rather than forsake his 
 God, and forsake his friend rather than forsake his king ; and yet 
 will forsake any earthly commodity, yea, and his own life in some 
 cases, rather than forsake his friend. I hope the world hath 
 not forgotten these degrees, else the heathen saying, Amicus usque 
 ad aras, [be a friend even unto martyrdom,] shall judge them." 1 
 
 The principles which Bacon has here enunciated, 
 and by which he proposes to justify his conduct to 
 
 i Works, iii. p. 211. 
 P 
 
82 BACON AND ESSEX. 
 
 Lord Essex, may be open to the attack of sophistry ; 
 but in a large and straightforward sense, we would 
 unreservedly accept them. Indeed, the first and the 
 third must instantly obtain our acquiescence. That 
 our fealty to our God must supersede our fealty to 
 our sovereign, no believer in a Supreme Being will 
 question. Neither will any sound heart hesitate 
 upon the duty of self-sacrifice in the cause of vir- 
 tuous friendship. But that a man should " forsake his 
 friend rather than forsake his king," is a statement 
 not morally precise enough. The "king" and the 
 " state " are not necessarily correlative terms. If 
 they were, we should be prepared to accept Bacon's 
 proposition. For we hold that our love to the 
 government of our country should transcend all other 
 earthly affection; so much so, that the latter should 
 never, not for a moment, come into competition. 
 But whereas they are not necessarily correlative; 
 whereas the "king" may involve the idea of the 
 personality of the sovereign, with all his individual 
 views, wishes, and caprices; in this sense, we deny 
 Bacon's principle. An extended argument against 
 it is unnecessary ; it is based upon the assumption, 
 which at least in an English bosom confutes itself, 
 namely, that the personal will of the monarch is 
 the sole tenure on which we hold each and any thing. 
 Perhaps Bacon was sincere in this political maxim. 
 Most probably he was, for ever while in office he did 
 his utmost to magnify the royal prerogative. If so, 
 we rejoice; for while it impugns his judgment, it 
 
BACON AXD ESSEX. 83 
 
 saves Lis heart from the charge of unprincipled in- 
 fidelity to his friend and benefactor. 
 
 Having laid down the "true rules and habits of 
 duties and moralities," by which he "wishes his 
 conduct to be tried, he proceeds to that very view of 
 the personality of the sovereign to which we have 
 made exception : "As your lordship may remember, 
 the queen knew her strength so well, as she looked 
 her word should be a warrant." "Would that he had 
 stopped here ! "Would that only his political logic had 
 been at fault, and that thence, unsound though the 
 premises, he had legitimately reasoned that for her 
 he ought to forsake his friend ! But the most anxious 
 doubts as to his singie-rm 'n dedness arise when we read 
 further : " And I, for my part, though I was not so 
 unseen in the world but I knew the condition was 
 subject to envy and peril; yet, because I knew again 
 she was constant in her favours, and made an end 
 where she began ; and especially, because she upheld 
 me with extraordinary access, and other demonstra- 
 tions of confidence and grace, I resolved to endure it 
 in expectation of better." It must require the 
 blindest admiration of Bacon's character not to per- 
 ceive here, that his loyalty to the personal authority 
 of his sovereign was not enough to sustain him in his 
 procedure against his friend; but that there were also 
 the most ambitious calculations as to how it would 
 affect his own advancement. 
 
 We pass over the history which he gives us of his 
 relations to Essex up to the period of his lordship's 
 
84 BACON AXD ESSEX. 
 
 troubles. They have already come before us. We 
 resume his defence at just that moment when his 
 unhappy friend abruptly deserted his government, 
 and sought, by a personal interview, to moderate the 
 wrath of queen Elizabeth. Bacon affirms, and there 
 is no reason to doubt him, that while his lordship was 
 under restraint, he went to him. "This," he says, 
 "was at Nonesuch, where, as my duty was, I came 
 to his lordship, and talked with him privately about 
 a quarter of an hour, and he asked mine opinion of 
 the course which was taken with him ; I told him, 
 ■ My lord, nubecula est, cito transibit ; l it is but a mist. 
 But shall I tell your lordship, it is as mists are : if it 
 go upwards, it may perhaps cause a shower ; if down- 
 wards, it will clear up. And, therefore, good my 
 lord, carry it so, as you take away by all means all 
 umbrages and distastes from the queen; and especially, 
 if I were worthy to advise you, as I have been by 
 yourself thought, and now your question imports the 
 continuance of that opinion, observe three points: 
 first, make not this cessation or peace, which is con- 
 cluded with Tyrone, as a service wherein you glory, 
 but as a shuffling up of a prosecution which was not 
 very fortunate. Next, represent not to the queen 
 any necessity of estate, whereby, as by a coercion or 
 wrench, she should think herself enforced to send 
 you back into Ireland, but leave it to her. Thirdly, 
 seek access importune, opportune, seriously, sportingly, 
 every way.' " 2 
 
 1 It is but a small cloud, it will quickly pass away. 2 Works, vol. iii. p. 219. 
 
BACON AND ESSEX. 85 
 
 It must here be noticed that, even before this 
 interview, Bacon had lost not a moment before he 
 wrote to Essex a letter, which breathes the warmest 
 and most respectful affection, is full of encourage- 
 ment, and employs many of the same expressions; 
 which we have just seen he afterwards uttered in 
 person. 
 
 So far, Eacon acted as the laws of the most sincere 
 friendship could desire. And it must not be forgotten 
 that, at the time when the Earl undertook his dis- 
 astrous expedition, he had shunned his society and 
 counsel for a year and a half, and went on it in spite 
 of Eacon' s most wise and most earnest remonstrances. 
 True impartiality requires us to weigh all this, espe- 
 cially as we may have, hereafter, unqualifiedly to 
 condemn him. 
 
 Eacon passes from the above statement to the 
 rumours which soon became rife, — that, in his nume- 
 rous audiences with the queen, he " was one of them 
 that incensed her against Lord Essex." If these 
 rumours were well-founded, he was, notwithstanding 
 the Earl's rejection of his counsel, guilty of unpar- 
 donable treachery. He solemnly denies it. He 
 details a conversation which he had with Sir Eobert 
 Cecil, in which the latter reported to him the scandal, 
 avowed his own disbelief in it, told his cousin of the 
 neutrality which he himself should follow, and 
 astutely advised him to do the same. He avers that 
 he met the charge with a contradiction which was 
 
 1 Works, vol. v. p. 252. 
 
86 C1C0N AND ESSEX. 
 
 satisfactory to the secretary. He further instances 
 various conversations which he had with queen 
 Elizabeth, in all of which, with the utmost adroit- 
 ness, he would seem to have availed himself of all 
 her peculiarities and weaknesses, in order to propitiate 
 her in favour of his friend. He claims, as the result 
 of his address, that the Earl, instead of being exposed 
 to the mortification of a trial in the Star Chamber, 
 was to be arraigned before a select number of privy 
 councillors ; and also, that whilst he was attempting 
 to attain it, as the least of evils, "certainly I offended 
 her at that time, which was rare with me : for I call 
 to mind, that both the Christmas, Lent, and Easter 
 term following, though I came divers times to her 
 upon law business, yet methought her face and 
 manner were not so clear and open to me as it was at 
 the first." 1 
 
 Lord Campbell remarks: "We have the account 
 of these dialogues only from himself after her death ; 
 and it is to be regarded with great suspicion, as there 
 is reason to think that she gave a somewhat different 
 version of them in her life-time ; for, introducing his 
 narrative, and alluding to the stories circulated 
 against him, he says : ' I will not think that they 
 grew any way from her majesty's own speeches, 
 whose memory I will ever honour ; if they did, she is 
 with God, and miserum est loedi de quibus non possis 
 queri.'" 2 [It is a melancholy thing to receive injury 
 from those of whom you cannot possibly complain.] 
 
 i Works, iii. p. 223. « Campbell, ii. p. 309. 
 
BACOX AXD ESSEX. 87 
 
 Surely this lacks that high-minded scrupulousness 
 which, at other times, so distinguishes his lordship in 
 his "Lives of the Chancellors," especially in that of 
 Lord Bacon. Queen Elizabeth had as much anxiety 
 to transfer the blame of the death of the Earl of 
 Essex to the shoulders of others, as Eacon had to 
 vindicate himself. And, therefore, the laws of 
 evidence would call upon us to withhold any conclu- 
 sion whatever, for we have only two contradictory 
 statements equally unsupported. It may be argued 
 — and this is all that can be said — that Bacon's 
 evident wistfulness not to offend her majesty, for the 
 sake of his own interest, may have seduced him into 
 sundry acts of acquiescence in the allegations of her 
 wrath against the Earl. But we answer, Bacon was 
 far too keen- sighted not to see, that if he had shown 
 such treachery to his friend, the eagle eye of his 
 royal mistress would have instantly detected it, and 
 riven him with scorn for his baseness. 
 
 It is far more probable that he, at length, found 
 that his earnestness and perseverance in the cause of 
 the unhappy Earl, were of imminent peril to himself. 
 The queen was resolved to break, not destroy, the 
 spirit of her haughty favourite. Meanwhile, Essex, 
 in defiance of Bacon's counsel, was increasingly exas- 
 perating her. And, at last, terrified for the success 
 of his own ambitious projects, Bacon deserted his 
 friend, and after protests, which could be only politi- 
 cal finesse, he allowed himself to be one of the counsel 
 against him on his trial. 
 
88 BACON AND ESSEX. 
 
 He says, alluding to the preliminaries for this trial: 
 " It was said to me openly . . . that her majesty was 
 not yet resolved whether she would have me forborn 
 in the business or no. And hereupon might arise 
 that other sinister and untrue speech, that I hear is 
 raised of me, how I was a suitor to be used against 
 my Lord of Essex, at that time : for it is very true, 
 that I know well what had passed between the queen 
 and me, and what occasion I had given her, both of 
 distaste and distrust, in crossing her disposition, by 
 standing steadfastly for my Lord of Essex; and suspect- 
 ing it also to be a stratagem arising from some par- 
 ticular emulation, I writ to her two or three words 
 of compliment, signifying to her majesty, 'That if 
 she would be pleased to spare me in my Lord of 
 Essex's cause, out of the consideration she took of my 
 obligations towards him, I should reckon it for one of 
 her greatest favours; but otherwise desiring her 
 majesty to think that I knew the degrees of duties; 
 and that no particular obligation whatsoever to any 
 subject could supplant or weaken that entireness of 
 duty that I did owe and bear to her and her service.' 
 And this was the goodly suit I made, being a 
 respect no man that had his wits could have omitted; 
 hut nevertheless I had a further reach in it; for I 
 judged that day's work would be a full period of any 
 bitterness or harshness between the queen and my 
 lord ; and, therefore, if I declared myself fully accord- 
 ing to her mind at that time, which could not do my 
 lord any manner of prejudice, I should keep my 
 
BAC03- AND ESSEX. 89 
 
 credit with her ever after, whereby to do my lord 
 service." l 
 
 Nothing but imperious truth could have made us 
 record this self- condemnatory passage. Though we 
 should assume that Bacon really had an eye to the 
 interests of his friend, it argues the utter absence of 
 all delicacy. Even his colleagues assigned him an 
 inferior part in the prosecution, being sensitively 
 alive "how he stood tied" to the Earl of Essex. 
 Then why did he not relinquish it altogether ? If her 
 majesty had spontaneously commanded him to do his 
 duty, as her "counsel extraordinary," the received 
 laws of the bar might be urged in his defence. But 
 while, as he was informed, she hesitated, did he not 
 stand aloof, and pray that an obedience so terrible 
 might be spared him ? Or, why did he volunteer to 
 lay before her majesty a consideration of which she 
 might avail herself, and give him an appointment so 
 odious? And further, why did he allow thoughts 
 about his own ambition to intrude and to influence 
 him, as he here, with a short-sighted ingenuous- 
 ness, admits he did. We cannot refrain from saying 
 that we revolt at the phrase "to do my lord service," 
 as well as at the fact that he discharged his share in 
 the prosecution of his friend with unusual earnestness 
 and severity, because of "the superior duty," he 
 says, "I did owe to the queen's fame and honour in 
 a public proceeding; and partly, because of the inten- 
 tion I had to uphold myself in credit and strength 
 
 1 Works, iii. p. 225. 
 
90 BACON AND ESSEX. 
 
 with the queen, the better to do my lord good offices 
 afterwards." 
 
 The two following letters will be here appropriate. 
 The first is from Bacon to the Earl of Essex upon the 
 liberation of the latter after his trial : the second is 
 the Earl's answer. They are both important, as 
 showing the relative feelings of the parties after 
 one friend had been a public prosecutor against the 
 other : — 
 
 "My lord, 
 
 " No man can expound my doings better than 
 your lordship, which makes me need to say the less ; only I 
 humbly pray you to believe, that I aspire to the conscience and 
 commendation of bonus civis and bonus vir [a good citizen and 
 a good man] ; and that though I love some things better, I 
 confess, than I love your lordship, yet I love few persons better, 
 both for gratitude's sake, and for your virtues, which cannot 
 hurt but by accident ; of which my good affection it may please 
 your lordship to assure yourself, and of all the true effect and 
 offices I can yield. For, as I was ever sorry your lordship should 
 fly with waxen wings, doubting Icarus's fortune, so for the 
 growing up of your own feathers, be they ostrich's or other 
 kind, no man shall be more glad. And this is the axletree 
 whereon I have turned, and shall turn. "Which having already 
 signified to you by some near mean, having so fit a messenger 
 for mine own letter, I thought good also to redouble by writing. 
 And so I commend you to God's protection. From Gray's Inn, 
 this 9th day of July, 1600/' » 
 
 We will not dwell upon the manifest uneasiness, 
 and, to a prostrate man in the Earl's condition, the 
 unfeeling insinuations of this letter. The answer is 
 
 i Works, v. p. 253. 
 
BA.C03T A.SD ESSEX. 91 
 
 a sufficient comment, alike creditable to the heart 
 and the manly self-repose of a wounded friend : — 
 
 "}Ir. Bacon, 
 
 u I can neither expound nor censure your late 
 actions, being ignorant of all of them save one ; and having 
 directed my sight inward only to examine myself. You do pray 
 me to believe, that you only aspire to the conscience and com- 
 mendation of bonus civis and bonus vir; and I do faithfully 
 assure you, that while that is your ambition, though your 
 course be active and mind contemplative, yet we shall both 
 eonvenire in eodem tertio ; and convenire inter nosipsos, 1 Your 
 profession of affection and offer of good offices are welcome to 
 me ; for answer to them I will say but this ; that you have 
 believed I have been kind to you, and you may believe that I 
 cannot be other, either upon mine own humour or mine own 
 election. I am a stranger to all poetical conceits, or else I 
 should say somewhat of your poetical example. But this I 
 must say, that I never flew with other wings than desire to 
 merit, and confidence in my sovereign's favour ; and when one 
 of these wings failed me, I would light nowhere but at my 
 sovereign's feet, though she suffered me to be bruised with my 
 fall. And till her majesty, that knows I was never bird of 
 prey, finds it to agree with her will and service that my wings 
 should be imped again, I have committed myself to the same. 
 No power but my God's, and my sovereign's, can alter this 
 
 resolution of 
 
 u Your retired friend, 
 
 '•Essex." 2 
 
 ^Tiat a pang must have pierced Bacon's bosom 
 when he read this letter! Cold and dignified, yet 
 sufficiently indicative of aggrieved feeling, it must 
 
 1 These Latin phrases convey his lordship's assurance to Bacon, that 
 they should agree in common and together. a Works, v. p. 253. 
 
92 BACON AND ESSEX. 
 
 have penetrated more deeply than if it had been 
 winged with reproaches. And how mournfully 
 beautiful its rejoinder to the figure employed in 
 Bacon's letter ! The merit of that figure is lost in 
 the almost insolent flippancy which surrounds it. 
 But that Bacon should write so, was to be expected : 
 his conscience was ill at ease, and then unnatural 
 levity was sought after as a veil and a relief. 
 
 Shame, and we will hope some better feeling, 
 recalled him to his obligations. "We have seen that 
 the Earl, though deeply hurt, was still hopeful about 
 his friend, and welcomed his offer of good offices. 
 We have the documents, so there can be no doubt of 
 Bacon's truth, when he says in his defence : "I did 
 draw, with my lord's privity, and by his appoint- 
 ment, two letters, the one written as from my 
 brother, the other as an answer returned from my 
 lord, both to be by me in a secret manner showed to 
 the queen ; . . . . the scope of which was but to 
 represent and picture forth unto her majesty my 
 lord's mind to be such as I knew her majesty would 
 fainest have." Whether or no this artifice was 
 justifiable, it showed Bacon's desire to bring about a 
 reconciliation. Alas ! it was when success would 
 have ministered to his own interests. 
 
 But, for whatever reasons, the queen remained 
 implacable. According to Bacon's words : " She be- 
 came utterly alienated from me, and for the space of, 
 at last, three months, which was between Michaelmas 
 and New Year's tide following, would not so much as 
 
BACON AND ESSEX. 93 
 
 look on me, but turned away from me with express 
 and purposelike discountenance wheresoever she saw 
 me." This he attributed to the warmth and per- 
 tinacity with which he had advocated his friend; 
 and he made an impassioned explanation to her 
 majesty, which she graciously received. "Where- 
 upon," he says, "I departed, resting then determined 
 to meddle no more in the matter ; as that, that I saw 
 would overthrow me, and not be able to do him any 
 good." 
 
 This cold selfishness, betrayed in the words "that 
 that would overthrow me," ruined Lord Essex, and 
 cast an ineffaceable stain upon Bacon. It ruined 
 Lord Essex ; for, from this time rendered desperate, 
 and deserted by his astute and politic counsellor, he 
 gave his ear to men who were fond of plots and 
 machinations; listened to their tales against his 
 enemies at court, and about their designs upon his 
 life ; burst out into rebellion against the state, if not 
 against the person of his sovereign, and was a second 
 time arraigned, but upon more serious charges. "We 
 say, also, that it cast an ineffaceable stain upon 
 Bacon. He had anew pledged himself to the Earl. 
 Perhaps common prudence would have made him 
 silent on the subject before her majesty; but he 
 left his Mend and benefactor without the slightest 
 provocation, and when he must have known that his 
 defection from his side would expose him to influ- 
 ences the most fatal. 
 
 And now the second trial, one for high treason, 
 
94 BACON AND ESSEX. 
 
 was to take place. Lord Campbell, with noble and 
 eloquent emotion, observes: "It might have been 
 expected that now, at any rate, struck with remorse 
 and overcome by tenderness, Bacon would have 
 hastened to the noble prisoner's cell in the Tower to 
 comfort and console him ; to assist him in preparing 
 an almost hopeless defence ; to devise schemes with 
 him for turning away the anger of the queen ; to 
 teach him how he might best avail himself for his 
 deliverance of that ring which Bacon knew had been 
 intrusted to him, with the promise that it should 
 bend her to mercy whenever returned to her, which 
 she was anxiously looking to see till the very moment 
 of his execution, and the thought of which embittered 
 her own end. At all events, he might have helped 
 his fated friend to meet death, and have accompanied 
 him to the scaffold." l 
 
 But Bacon kept aloof from him, as from a pesti- 
 lence. Nay, he did far worse ; he became one of the 
 counsel against the prisoner ; spent ten days in his 
 chambers in Gray's Inn studying the law of treason, 
 collating parallel cases from history, and preparing 
 periods of the bitterest and most damnatory in- 
 vective. 
 
 » Who would envy him with all his knowledge and 
 philosophy and fame, as he awoke to consciousness 
 on the morning of the trial, the 19 th of February, 
 when, amidst the cold and silence of that winter'3 
 morn, he thought of the cruel engagements of the 
 
 i Campbell, ii. p. 313. 
 
BACON AND ESSEX. 95 
 
 day? Who would envy him, whose better spirit 
 sympathized with the calm and innocent retreats of 
 science, as he sat before his papers, listened to the 
 tramp of horse and the foot -falls of passengers, 
 hurrying — the one as guards, the other as spectators 
 — to that condemnation of his own friend which he, 
 himself, was about to secure by every energy of 
 argument and eloquence ? Who would envy him 
 when he threaded his way through an English 
 crowd, whose indignant outbursts at his faithless 
 effrontery burst upon his ear; when peers, and 
 judges, and brother- counsel regarded him with 
 averted looks ; and, finally, when he had to exchange 
 glances with the arraigned noble, whose confidence, 
 and affection, and kindness he was prepared to repay 
 with hostility and insult ? He was about to draw 
 from ancient history exaggerated and invidious 
 parallels of the Earl's treason ; would that there had 
 occurred to him some one of his own ! "Would that 
 the "et tu Brute" of Caesar had then caught his ear! 
 
 It is not our province to give the details of this 
 mournful trial: only a few special facts must be 
 noticed. The Earl, in the vigour of his freshest 
 manhood, with a name for high chivalrous daring, 
 for all manly accomplishments at the council- chamber 
 and in the study, and for the noblest courtesy of 
 bearing, was led to the bar by Sir Walter Ealeigh. 
 Thus two knights, each meet, in the world's estimate, 
 to be the brother-in-arms of a Bayard, stood close to 
 each other, the one as the prisoner, the other as his 
 
96 BACON AND ESSEX. 
 
 keeper. Both, though with the interval of years, had 
 to suffer upon the same scaffold ; and in the condem- 
 nation of both, Bacon bore a dishonourable share. 
 
 After that two of the law officers, namely, Yel- 
 verton, the queen's serjeant, and Coke, the attorney 
 general, had addressed the peers, and laid the evidence 
 before them, Lord Essex delivered his defence. It 
 was Bacon's part to reply. Even now, we might 
 have forgiven him much, if his speech had betrayed 
 him into pathos and regrets ; he would have found 
 the assent of numerous tears among his noble audience, 
 as it saw youth and rank, and even genius, thus in 
 peril before them. Indeed, we believe that if at that 
 last hour Bacon, under the natural inspiration of love 
 and gratitude for his friend, had risen and then sat 
 down and wept, it would have gone far to save the 
 prisoner ; for it would have met a response in the 
 heart of queen Elizabeth. But he rose, and spoke at 
 length with more than his wonted dexterity, to 
 invalidate the few palliating considerations which 
 were urged by the accused. He taunted him with 
 his own confession; he compared him — his own 
 gentle and generous friend — to Cain, the first mur- 
 derer, who took up "an excuse by impudency." 
 Because Lord Essex had alleged his personal danger 
 as some excuse for his desperation, he drew the 
 parallel of Pisistratus, who, in order to conciliate the 
 citizens in his aim after supremacy, covered his body 
 with wounds of his own infliction, and charged them 
 upon his enemies in the state. " And now, my lord," 
 
BACON AND ESSEX. 97 
 
 (he added, in conclusion,) "all you have said or can 
 say in answer to these matters are but shadows, and 
 therefore, methinks it were your best course to 
 confess, and not to justify." 1 
 
 But this dreadful scene of unnatural violence was 
 not yet closed. The Earl, appalled by his friend's 
 perfidy, exclaimed: "May it please your lordships, 
 I must produce Mr. Bacon for a witness," and 
 adverted to the very letter which, as we have seen, 
 Bacon had prepared for him for queen Elizabeth. 
 He quoted it as the outline of the defence which he 
 had just delivered, adding: "It will appear what 
 conceit he held of me, and now otherwise he here 
 coloureth and pleadeth the contrary." 
 
 It must have been a moment of awful retribution 
 upon Bacon, a moment of soul- sickening shame 
 aggravated by alarm; but he replied: "My lord, I 
 spent more hours to make you a good subject than 
 upon any man in the world besides ; but since you 
 have stirred upon this point, my lord, I dare warrant 
 you the letter will not blush ; for I did but perform 
 the part of an honest man, and ever laboured to have 
 done you good, if it might have been, and to no other 
 end ; for what I intended for your good was wished 
 from the heart, without touch of any man's honour." 
 
 The unhappy Earl was more than justified in his 
 retort upon his betrayer ; for Bacon had thus made 
 himself both the argument of defence and its answer. 
 And he became guilty of an unseemly altercation 
 
 i State Trials, 1350. 
 G 
 
98 BACON AND ESSEX. 
 
 with, his friend across the grave which was yawning 
 to receive that friend. 
 
 We need not give the additional defence of Lord 
 Essex; it was instantly followed by Bacon's insti- 
 tuting a still more invidious parallel than those which 
 he had employed before. He knew the vulnerable 
 points of the Earl's character ; those which had made 
 him numerous enemies among his peers ; those which 
 had so maliciously and so often been insisted on to 
 his royal mistress, until her lofty spirit could brook 
 them no longer. He knew that to speak of them at 
 that high tribunal; to proclaim his love of power, 
 his ambition of control over his sovereign, was to 
 light an inextinguishable passion in that sovereign's 
 bosom ; so jealous was she of her supremacy in action, 
 as well as in prerogative. And could no other illus- 
 tration content him than that of the haughty and 
 aspiring duke of Guise, the personal foe of queen 
 Elizabeth, whose dictations to his king had so often 
 aroused her indignation at himself, and contempt for 
 his dependent monarch ? 
 
 The Earl of Essex was condemned. Still there 
 remained an interval before his execution in which 
 Bacon might have exerted himself for his friend's 
 rescue. But he did nothing. "We may well suppose 
 that when the day of that trial closed, with what 
 remorseful anguish he must have rushed from the 
 great hall at "Westminster to conceal his guilt within 
 his chambers at Gray's Inn. There may have been 
 sycophants to applaud his acumen and his eloquence ; 
 
BACON AXD ESSEX. 99 
 
 but, though he loved praise more than most men, how 
 his soul must have shuddered at their congratulations ! 
 Then why did he not move every available power in 
 order to neutralize his crime ? He knew that queen 
 Elizabeth was in an agony of indecision, waiting for 
 some pretext on which, consistently with her dignity, 
 she might pardon one whom she had so long and so 
 confidingly regarded. "Why did not his creative brain 
 suggest, and his powers of address use, some plan for 
 favourably determining her hesitation? From his 
 own defence we learn, that, between the Earl's 
 arraignment and suffering, he was with the queen 
 once ; and then, he observes, " though I durst not deal 
 directly for my lord as things then stood, yet generally 
 I did both commend her majesty's mercy, terming it 
 to her as an excellent balm that did continually distil 
 from her sovereign hands, and made an excellent 
 odour in the senses of the people ; and not only so, 
 but I took hardiness to extenuate, not the fact, for 
 that I durst not, but the danger, telling her, that if 
 some base or cruel-minded persons had entered into 
 such an action, it might have caused much blood and 
 combustion ; but it appeared well, they were such as 
 knew not how to play the malefactors; and some 
 other words which I now omit." Is this latter 
 reasoning so consistent with his exaggerations about 
 the danger at the trial, as to deserve our belief that 
 he could have employed it ? And if he did, when 
 was ever a sincere friendship so half-hearted and so 
 calculating ? Then further: he knew that Essex pos- 
 
100 BACON AND ESSEX. 
 
 sessed a ring which was the sure and certain pledge 
 of the royal amnesty; why did he not take the 
 measures necessary for haying it presented ? 
 
 The truth must be told. In his interview with the 
 offended sovereign, he was too much absorbed in 
 steering himself safely through the storms and quick- 
 sands of her passion ; and as to any intercourse with 
 Lord Essex, his guilty spirit could not dare to con- 
 front him, even to give him saving counsel. 
 
 Not to dwell upon what must have been Bacon's 
 emotions on the day of the Earl's death, we may 
 pass onward to those which he must have expe- 
 rienced some time afterwards. All his stratagems to 
 obtain promotion thenceforward failed with queen 
 Elizabeth. Perhaps her disgust at his double-dealing 
 was the reason of her withholding favour. He had 
 gained not one single step in his profession ; he had 
 lost his consciousness of rectitude and the esteem 
 of good men, when her majesty's own death ap- 
 proached. What must have been his remorseful 
 anguish as he heard that she had fallen into the 
 profoundest melancholy on account of the death of 
 Essex ; that she refused all food and sustenance ; 
 that the once majestic woman, whose heroism was 
 wont to rise with her troubles, now abandoned 
 herself to grief, lying prostrate for ten days and 
 nights upon the floor, refusing to be comforted, 
 uttering moans instead of lofty words, and at last 
 died exhausted by her woe ? 
 
 We have thus described the whole of this melan- 
 
BACOX ABB ESSEX. 101 
 
 choly fact in the life of Bacon, with no readiness of 
 heart to defame his memory. We have given hnt 
 the truth. And in addition to the requirement of 
 history to do so, the moral lesson which it teaches 
 has made us earnest. It cannot be thought that 
 Bacon, from the first, resolved on his course of 
 betrayal of his friend. Bather, it is to be believed 
 that his first efforts to save him were sincere. 
 But a stronger impulse than that of friendship was 
 within him : it was that of an ambition which 
 might be called vulgar; for although it affected 
 high and useful offices in the commonwealth, he 
 was ever preeminently alive to their "poinp and 
 circumstance." And the mastery which it attained 
 and exercised is an illustration of a law of the 
 human passions as instructive as it is painful. It 
 would seem as if each one of us had a certain 
 amount of emotional energy, which varies according 
 to the individual, and which, it was originally 
 intended by our benign Creator, should be distributed 
 among the affections of the heart. The degrees of 
 that distribution were to maintain the general har- 
 mony. And so, the exaggerated share of any one of 
 them, must be at the expense of others. It was 
 deplorably exemplified in the case before us. Moral- 
 ists have often and earnestly protested against the 
 evils of immoderate ambition ; but we are mistaken 
 if this fact of Bacon's life does not offer a more 
 serious warning, wherein an impetuous and im- 
 patient desire for advancement lowered the tone of 
 
102 LACON AND ESSEX. 
 
 the other feelings, and blindly bore him forward to 
 the bursting of some of the finest and holiest of 
 human ties. By saying this, we impugn not a spirit 
 of noble and generous competition ; we only submit 
 the certain moral injury which must follow when it 
 enlarges into an unscrupulous purpose. And enlarge 
 it will, and that insensibly, unless its growth be 
 habitually brought under control by that devotion 
 to the Divine glory and the good of others, which is 
 required by the gospel. 
 
CHAPTEE Till. 
 
 BACON OX THE ACCESSION OF JA3TES I. 
 
 The great queen Elizabeth survived about two years 
 the execution of the Earl of Essex. "We have 
 already hinted, that although it is to be feared 
 Eacon deserted his friend in the hope of retaining 
 and increasing her favour, yet he obtained no pro- 
 motion. The only special office she assigned him, 
 was one which has stamped him with greater infamy 
 than even the perfidy which we have had to record 
 in the previous chapter. He is not the only one 
 upon whom there fell the reproaches of the country, 
 in consequence of the Earl's death. She, herself, 
 found that her people no longer gloried in that 
 clemency for which she had been so renowned. 
 Moreover, the rumour reached her, that she had 
 done unnatural and unnecessary violence to those 
 affections of the woman, which, in this case at least, 
 must have been unsullied, and which must, there- 
 fore, have been the more binding. Could it have 
 been indignant revenge that prompted her to com- 
 mand Bacon to prepare a public paper to justify 
 
104 I3ACON ON THE 
 
 the deed ? Whether or no, it involved the severest 
 retribution, both at the moment and thereafter. 
 He prepared the document ; and although it must 
 not be forgotten that it was corrected and inter- 
 polated by others of her council, yet it breathes 
 an animus of the darkest virulence against Lord 
 Essex — an animus which pervades the whole, but 
 which would have shown itself at abrupt intervals 
 only, if it had been subsequently introduced in the 
 original. 
 
 Of these last two years of the queen's life, wo 
 have only to observe in regard to Bacon that, on 
 the summons of a new parliament, he was again 
 elected, and, in spite of the odium which was 
 around his name, his great talent and eloquence 
 reasserted his position. He introduced a bill con- 
 cerning " Weights and Measures," which was lost, 
 and the high importance of its principle was ad- 
 mitted by parliament only so recently as in the reign 
 of William rv. But with less wisdom he advo- 
 cated " Monopolies," thereby pandering to the wishes 
 of the crown, and exposing himself to the attacks 
 of Sir Walter Ealeigh, for his inconsistency with 
 the sentiments of his earlier and more patriotic 
 speeches. 
 
 A new era at length arrived in the accession 
 of James i, and undeterred by the mortifications 
 and remorse of his ambition in the former reign, 
 he strove with the most eager avidity to obtain 
 the early notice of the new sovereign. And as much 
 
ACCESSION OF JAMES I. 105 
 
 of his future conduct, and much of the tenor of 
 the court language which he employed, and which 
 we shall have to watch as an index of his character, 
 arose from that of James i, we must briefly advert 
 to the mind and prejudices and habits of that 
 monarch. 
 
 Guided by the words of history, we may suppose 
 how king James must have appeared to the ob- 
 servant and calculating Bacon both at first, when 
 he came to England, and thenceforward. Not- 
 withstanding his acknowledged learning, James dis- 
 played a pedantry, the ridiculousness of which no 
 language could exaggerate; and we can figure to 
 ourselves how the politic courtier must have dis- 
 cerned this weakness, and resolved to gratify it 
 to the full. The meanness of the act would be 
 relieved by its piquancy. It must have been a 
 scene amusing, yet most humbling to human nature, 
 to have watched the contrast of two such minds — 
 learning without breadth or method dictating to 
 learning universal and organized; " old saws and 
 modern instances" parrying with original thoughts 
 and great principles, far fetched comparisons and 
 close analogies. Yet it must have been most painful 
 to perceive the majesty of intellect, clothed with 
 the robe of a sycophant; not simply humoiuing, 
 but pandering to foibles ; not content with offering 
 the incense of true loyalty, but burning other per- 
 fumes, even those of eloquence and wisdom. When 
 king James came to England, he brought with him 
 
106 BACON ON THE 
 
 notions of his royal prerogative the most extra- 
 vagant; and the suitor for his favour must have 
 seen the unconstitutional condition on which that 
 favour could be obtained. Parasites flocked around 
 the monarch, yet he was known to yield himself, 
 and that exclusively, to the favouritism of but one, 
 and that must have told the candidate the avenue to 
 the master's confidence. 
 
 This limited reference to the peculiarities of 
 James i. must be borne in mind, whensoever we 
 feel surprise at the elaborate servility, and ultra- 
 monarchical doctrines, and court to royal favourites, 
 which we shall soon find in the history of Bacon. 
 They were the degrading stepping-stones of his am- 
 bition, but he took them. 
 
 Immediately upon the death of queen Elizabeth, 
 and while king James was on his journey from 
 Scotland, Bacon wrote to him an offer of his services, 
 and earnestly sought an audience. Even thus early 
 he used his high talents in flattering the pedantry 
 of the new monarch. "We select the following 
 portions of this letter as examples : — 
 
 " It may please your most excellent majesty, 
 
 "It is observed by some upon a place in the 
 Canticles, Ego sum Jlos campi et lilium eonvallium, 1 that d, 
 dispari, it is not said, Ego sum Jlos liorti et lilium montium, 
 because the majesty of that person is not inclosed for a few, 
 
 1 Song" of Solomon : "I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the 
 vallies," chap. iii. 1. In this allusion, Bacon is as incorrect in quoting, 
 as he is guilty of bad, nay wicked taste in applying it. His half-pun, 
 half-antithesis, we must leave to the judgment, we hope the condem- 
 
ACCESSION OF JA^IES I. 107 
 
 nor appropriated to the great. . . . And therefore, most 
 high and mighty king, my most dear and dread sovereign lord, 
 since now the corner-stone is laid of the mightiest monarchy in 
 Europe, and that God above who hath ever a hand in bridling 
 the floods and motions both of the seas and of people's hearts, 
 hath by the miraculous and universal consent, the more strange 
 because it proceedeth from such diversity of causes in your 
 coming in, given a sign and token of great happiness in the 
 continuance of your reign ; I think there is no subject of your 
 majesty's which loveth this island, and is not hollow and un- 
 worthy, whose heart is not set on fire, not only to bring you 
 peace-offerings to make you propitious, but to sacrifice himself a 
 burnt-offering or holocaust to your majesty's service." 1 
 
 We should call this profane adulation; but the 
 style of that period, we must allow, relieves it of 
 much of its grossness. Nevertheless, it betrays 
 Bacon's sad impatience for preferment. But this was 
 not enough. Prom among his letters we find two to 
 Fowlys, who had been sent to Scotland as the agent 
 of the late queen's ministers ; another to Sir Thomas 
 Chalmer, the tutor of Prince Henry ; a fourth to Lord 
 Kinlope, the favorite of the monarch ; a fifth to 
 Dr. Morison, the king's physician; and a sixth to 
 Davies, afterwards lord chief justice. These must all 
 have been written within a few hours of each other, 
 and all contain the most earnest entreaties that his 
 services may be recommended. 
 
 nation of our readers, viz. "lam the flower of the garden and the 
 lily of the mountains." Contrast this with the former misquotation, 
 "lam the flower of the field and the lily of the Tallies," and the 
 purport, but we must say, the profane purport of Bacon's language 
 will be obvious. A sad feature it was of those days, that words 
 which are consecrated, were employed on any and on all occasions, 
 i Works, v. p. 2"£ 
 
108 BACON ON THE 
 
 Even these canvassings were not enough. The 
 Earl of Essex, together with the Earl of Southampton, 
 had been, during the life of queen Elizabeth, warm 
 friends of her successor. Lord Southampton was still 
 imprisoned in the Tower for his share in the con- 
 spiracy with his friend. His immediate release, and 
 future influence at court, were certain. In terror lest 
 he should thus find a powerful enemy, he unblush- 
 ingly writes as follows : — 
 
 " It may please your lordship, 
 
 " I would have heen very glad to have presented 
 my humble service to your lordship by my attendance, if I could 
 have foreseen that it should not have been unpleasing unto you. 
 And therefore, because I would be sure to commit no error, I 
 chose to write; assuring your lordship, how little soever it may 
 seem credible to you at first, yet it is as true as a thing that God 
 knoweth, that this great change hath wrought in me no other 
 change towards your lordship than this, that I may safely be 
 that to you now which I was truly before. And so craving no 
 other pardon than for troubling you with my letter, I do not 
 now begin to be, but continue to be 
 
 " Your lordship's humble and much devoted, 
 
 " F R - Bacon." * 
 
 We are about to enter upon what we believe was 
 the most useful and distinguished period of Bacon's 
 life; one in which, almost without exception, he 
 dedicated his vast legal and legislative powers to the 
 public good ; in which his fidelity to his sovereign, 
 and his duty to his country, were in the noblest har- 
 mony; in which, amidst incessant toils in parliament, 
 
 l Works, v. p. 281 
 
ACCESSION OF JA3IES I. 109 
 
 at the bar, and directly for the king, he composed 
 and published many of the greatest of his works, and 
 was continuously elaborating the greatest of them all. 
 While, therefore, we may feel disposed to charge his 
 above-mentioned canvassings for office with undigni- 
 fied hurry and obsequiousness, and to brand with 
 indelicacy his endeavour to propitiate Lord South- 
 ampton, lest he should prove an obstacle, we must 
 regard them all as ripples upon the surface, not as 
 the direction of the current of his mind. "We cannot 
 but think that they ultimately wrought his ruin, but 
 they were not the staple of his character. 
 
 Whilst James was on his progress to the south, 
 Bacon, with his old habit as counsel extraordinary to 
 the sovereign, submitted, through the Earl of North- 
 umberland, for the king's consideration, a proclama- 
 tion recommending " the union of England and 
 Scotland; attention to the sufferings of unhappy 
 Ireland; freedom of trade, and the suppression of 
 bribery and corruption; with the assurance, that 
 every place and service that was fit for the honour or 
 good of the commonwealth should be filled, and no 
 man's virtue left idle, unemployed, or unrewarded, 
 and every good ordinance and constitution for the 
 amendment of the estate and times, be revived and 
 put in execution." * 
 
 This proclamation was not adopted ; it breathed 
 the spirit of improvement too warmly for a monarch 
 of whom Bacon pronounced, after his first access to 
 
 1 Works, iii. p. 239. 
 
110 BACON ON THE 
 
 him : " Methought his majesty rather asked counsel 
 of the time past, than of the time to come." But it 
 is highly valuable, as showing Bacon's desire both 
 for emendation in the state in general, and for those 
 great measures to which, as we shall see, he resolved 
 to consecrate himself. In accompanying him through 
 much of his life as a statesman, we must bear in 
 mind that he was an innovator in civil as well as in 
 philosophical science. But he displays his profound 
 wisdom in his distinction between the processes 
 requisite for each. "It is good,' 7 he says, "not to 
 try experiments in states, except the necessity be 
 urgent, or the utility evident ; and well to beware 
 that it be the reformation that draweth on the 
 change, and not desire of change that pretendeth the 
 reformation; that novelty, though it be not rejected, 
 yet be always suspected ; and, as the scripture saith, 
 ' that we make a stand upon the ancient way, and 
 then look about us, and discover what is the straight 
 and right way, and so to walk in it;' 1 always 
 remembering that there is a difference in innovations, 
 between arts and civil affairs. In civil affairs, a 
 change, even for the better, is to be suspected, 
 through fear of disturbance; because they depend 
 upon authority, consent, reputation, and opinion, and 
 not upon demonstration ; but arts and sciences should 
 be like mines, resounding on all sides with new works 
 and further progress." 2 
 
 Early upon the arrival of the king in London, 
 
 I Essay on Innovations. 2 Nov. Organum, Aph. 90. 
 
ACCESSION OF JAMES I. Ill 
 
 Bacon had an audience, and a promise of private 
 access to his majesty. He soon received knighthood ; 
 but it conveyed no honour, in consequence of the 
 indiscriminate and mercenary conditions upon which 
 king James forced it upon so many. Bacon besought 
 that it might be conferred upon him with more dis- 
 tinction, and not be " merely gregarious in a troop.*' 
 But he failed. He had to bend his knee, lost in a 
 crowd of three hundred companions. He called it a 
 " divulged and almost prostituted title of knight- 
 hood/' and would have declined it altogether, but, 
 he adds : " I could be content no have it, both because 
 of this late disgrace [he had just been attached for 
 debt], and because I have three new knights in my 
 mess in Gray's Inn commons; and because I have 
 found out an alderman's daughter, a handsome 
 maiden, to my liking." 1 
 
 The self-contradiction in Bacon is almost unac- 
 countable ; it would be wholly so, did we not know 
 how often men utter the language of momentary 
 disgust, as if they were solemn purposes. Vexed by 
 delayed success at court, herded with so many others 
 in receiving what had become a very equivocal honour, 
 dunned for debts, he writes, in the same letter, thus 
 petulantly: "Eor my purpose or course, I desire to 
 meddle as little as I can in the king's causes, his 
 majesty now abounding in council ; and to follow my 
 private thrift and practice, and to many with some 
 convenient advancement. Tor as for mine ambition, 
 
 1 Letter to Sir Robert Cecil, July 3rd. U ks, vol. vi. p. 43. 
 
112 BACON OX THE 
 
 I do assure your honour, mine is quenched. In the 
 queen's, my excellent mistress's time, the quorum 
 was small ; her service was a kind of freehold, and it 
 was a more solemn time. All those points agreed 
 with my nature and judgment. !My ambition now 
 I shall only put upon my pen, whereby I shall be 
 able to maintain memory and merit of the times 
 succeeding." This is so true to nature that we almost 
 love it, although it so incongruously associates a 
 childish peevishness with his great name. 
 
 Eut he soon recovered his energies in a nobler and 
 more bracing atmosphere. On the 19th March, 
 1604, anew parliament assembled, and Sir Francis 
 Bacon took his seat as member for Ipswich ; he had 
 been likewise chosen for St. Albans. The session 
 was stormy, beyond parallel, for that period. It was 
 the harbinger of the civil tempest which eventually 
 uprooted the foundations of the throne: for "as there 
 are certain hollow blasts of wind and secret swellings 
 of seas before a tempest, so are there in states : — 
 
 I lie etiam caecos instare tumultus 
 
 Saepe monet ; frandem que et operta tumescere bella." 1 
 
 Throughout all the conflicts in the House of Com- 
 mons the labours of Sir Francis were incessant. 
 "He spoke in every debate; he sat upon twenty- 
 nine committees, many of them appointed for the 
 consideration of the important questions agitated at 
 
 1 Essay on Sedition. Speaking of the different appearances of the 
 sun, Virgil says— Georg. i. 465 : 
 
 " The change of empire often he declares, 
 Fierce tumults, hidden treasons, open wars."— Dry den. 
 
ACCESSION OF JAMES I. 113 
 
 that eventful time. He was selected to attend the 
 conferences of the privy-council ; to report the result ; 
 and to prepare remonstrances and addresses ; was 
 nominated as a mediator between the Commons and 
 the Lords ; and chosen by the Commons to present to 
 the king a petition touching purveyors." 1 
 
 He discharged all these onerous and delicate duties 
 with the highest honour to himself, the confidence of 
 the parliament, and to the satisfaction of the king. 
 Many of his speeches are preserved, and especially 
 reveal his wonderful power and facility in adapting 
 himself to his hearers and the occasion. 
 
 He was now to receive the first mark of royal 
 favour from the new monarch. Hitherto he had 
 been simply retained in his office under queen 
 Elizabeth as counsel extraordinary. At length, on 
 the 25 th of August, he was constituted by patent 
 king's counsel learned in the law, with a fee of forty 
 pounds a year. The king, moreover, on the same 
 day granted him, by patent under the great seal, a 
 pension of sixty pounds a year "for special services 
 received from his brother Anthony Bacon and him- 
 self." 2 
 
 The inexhaustible activity and resources of his 
 mind now revealed themselves more than ever. 
 Though worn with much physical weakness; jaded 
 with the daily details of the bar; excited, often 
 agitated by the passions of the senate; his few 
 Bnatches of retirement spent in the preparation of its 
 
 * Montague's Bacon, vol. xvi. p. 107. * Rymeri Fsed. torn. xvi. p. 596. 
 U 
 
114 BACON ON THE 
 
 reports and petitions; he now "excogitated," and, a 
 few months after, published his comprehensive views 
 on education, entitled, "Helps to the Intellectual 
 Powers ; " his tract on " The Greatness of the King- 
 dom of Britain," and (that which formed the ves- 
 tibule of his great work) " Two Books of the 
 Proficience and Advancement of Learning, Divine 
 and Human." The former two are pieces com- 
 paratively fugitive, notwithstanding their individual 
 value. The third is immortal. In a memoir, it 
 would be undesirable to offer its analysis ; we must, 
 therefore, content ourselves with stating, that it 
 immediately raised the reputation of its author to the 
 very highest rank as a writer and a philosopher ; and 
 that it was universally admitted that, since the time 
 of Aristotle, no work had such a claim to profound 
 and vast originality. The English language had 
 never before attained so high an elevation, neither 
 was it ever before so clothed with such beauties, 
 which, though lavish, were so symmetrical. We 
 have called it the vestibule to his great work, the 
 " Instauratio." For that work it was afterwards re- 
 modelled and translated into Latin, with the title 
 "De Augmentis Scientiarum" [the Advancement of 
 the Sciences], and, according to Bacon's own arrange- 
 ment, constitutes the first volume. 1 And it will be 
 an era in every man's life who enters it, even 
 although he should advance no further, for it com- 
 mands such prospects of that which is without the 
 
 1 Epistola ad Fulgentium. Works, x. p. 330. 
 
ACCESSION OF JAMES I. 115 
 
 temple ; and the portico and the chamber will, of 
 themselves, reveal the inspiration of the builder. 
 That he should have found both the time and calm 
 contemplation and energy necessary for such an effort, 
 might well justify him in saying, some years after- 
 wards : ""We judge that mankind may conceive some 
 hopes from our example, which we offer not by way 
 of ostentation, but because it may be useful. If any 
 one therefore should despair, let him consider a man 
 as much employed in civil affairs as any other of his 
 age, a man of no great share of health, who must 
 therefore have lost much time, and yet in this under- 
 taking he is the first that leads the way, unassisted 
 by any mortal, and steadfastly entering the true path 
 that was absolutely untrod before, and submitting his 
 mind to things, may somewhat have advanced the 
 design." 1 In many points, many and sad ones, 
 we have to regard him as a warning; but in this 
 he may be an example to all of the value of industry; 
 to some, of the value of the union of industry and 
 genius. 
 
 Moreover, great as were his inconsistencies, there 
 was every appearance of sincerity in the prayer which 
 was found among his papers, and with which he 
 prosecuted all his writings : " Thou, Father, who 
 gavest the visible light as the first-born of thy 
 creatures, and didst pour into man the intellectual 
 light as the top and consummation of thy workman- 
 ship, be pleased to protect and govern this work, 
 
 1 Nov, Orgamnn, Aph. 5. 
 
116 LACON ON THE 
 
 which coining from thy goodness, returneth to thy 
 glory. Thou, after thou hadst reviewed the works 
 which thy hand had made, beheldest that everything 
 was very good, and thou didst rest with complacency 
 in them. But man, reflecting on the works which 
 he had made, saw that all was vanity and vexation of 
 spirit, and could by no means acquiesce in them. 
 "Wherefore, if we labour in thy works with the sweat 
 of our brows, thou wilt make us partakers of thy 
 vision and thy sabbath. We humbly beg that this 
 mind may be steadfastly in us; and that thou, by our 
 hands, and also by the hands of others, on whom 
 thou shalt bestow the same spirit, wilt please to con- 
 vey a largess of new alms to thy family of mankind. 
 These things we commend to thy everlasting love, by 
 our Jesus, thy Christ, God with us. Amen." l 
 
 It is distressingly true that his religion did not so 
 far influence him as to keep him from those follies 
 and graver sins which we have to enumerate; but 
 such as it was, it did warm him into a sublime 
 fervour, and it saved that fervour from those fancies 
 and imaginations which have so often dishonoured the 
 men of genius, who have mocked at piety, and whose 
 pages have scattered licentiousness and laxity through 
 the world. 
 
 Among his letters at this time, we find several 
 which accompanied his presentation copies of the 
 " Advancement of Learning." The friends whom he 
 thus honoured were, the Earl of Northampton, Sir 
 
 * Works, ii. p. 493. 
 
ACCESSION OF JA1TES I. 117 
 
 Thomas Bodley, the Earl of Salisbury, the lord 
 treasurer Buckhnrst, the lord chancellor Egerton, and 
 his most personal intimate, Mr. Matthew* All these 
 letters deserve perusal, but the one to Sir Thomas 
 Bodley, the restorer, almost founder, of the Bodleian 
 library at Oxford, is the most important : — 
 
 "Sir, 
 
 " I think no man may more truly say with the 
 Psalm, Multum incola fuit anima mea, l than myself ; for, I do 
 confess, since I was of any understanding, my mind hath in 
 effect been absent from that I have done; and in absence are 
 many errors, which I do willingly acknowledge ; and amongst 
 the rest, this great one that led the rest ; that knowing myself 
 by inward calling to be fitter to hold a book than to play a 
 part, I have led my life in civil causes, for which I was not very 
 fit by nature, and more unfit by the preoccupation of my 
 mind. Therefore calling myself home, I have now for a time 
 enjoyed myself, whereof likewise I desire to make the world 
 partaker. My labours, if I may so term that which was the 
 comfort of my other labours, I have dedicated to the king; 
 desirous, if there be any good in them, it may be as the fat of a 
 sacrifice incensed to his honour : and the second copy I have 
 sent unto you, not only in good affection, but in a kind of 
 congruity, in regard of your great and rare desert of learning. 
 For books are the shrines where the saint is, or is believed to 
 be : and you having built an ark to save learning from deluge, 
 deserve proprietary in any new instrument or engine whereby 
 learning should be improved or advanced. 1605." 2 
 
 There is also a long letter to Dr. Playfere, Mar- 
 garet Professor of Divinity at Cambridge, " desiring 
 him to translate the Advancement into Latin." The 
 
 1 Alluding to Psalm xxxix. 12, "I am a stranger with thee and a 
 sojourner." 8 Works, v. p. 287. 
 
118 BACON ON THE 
 
 following extracts are eminently characteristic of the 
 exuberance yet truthfulness of his imagination : — 
 
 " If I do not much err, for any judgment that a man 
 maketh of his own doings had need he spoken of with a 
 si nunquam failed imago} I have this opinion, that if I had 
 sought mine own commendation, it had been a much fitter course 
 for me to have done, as gardeners used to do, by taking their 
 seed and slips, and rearing them first into plants, and so alter- 
 ing them in pots when they are in flower, and in their best 
 state. But forasmuch as the end was merit of the state of 
 learning, to my power, and not glory ; and because my purpose 
 was rather to excite other men's wits than to magnify mine 
 own, I was desirous to prevent the uncertainties of mine own 
 life and times, by altering rather seeds than plants : nay, and 
 further, as the proverb is, by sowing with the basket rather 
 than with the hand : wherefore, since I have only taken upon 
 me to ring a bell to call other wits together, which is the 
 meanest office, it cannot but be consonant to my desire to have 
 that bell heard as far as can be. And since they are but sparks 
 which can work but upon matter prepared, I have the more 
 reason to wish that those sparks may fly abroad, that they may 
 the better find and light upon those minds and spirits which are 
 apt to be kindled. And therefore the privateness of the 
 language considered, wherein it is written, excluding so many 
 readers ; as, on the other side, the obscurity of the argument 
 in many parts of it excludeth many others ; I must account it 
 a second birth of that work, if it might be translated into Latin, 
 without manifest loss of the sense and matter." 2 
 
 We must presume either that Dr. Playfere was 
 prevented from undertaking this office, or that, if he 
 fulfilled it, Bacon's daily emendations and enlarge- 
 
 1 The corresponding English phrase is, "If I am not deceived." 
 * Works, v. p. 292. 
 
ACCESSION OF JAMES I. 119 
 
 ment of the original postponed the publication of the 
 Latin version. It was not until eighteen years 
 afterwards that the "De Dignitate et Augmentis 
 Scientiarum" appeared. The author had written it 
 " in English to be translated into the Latin tongue 
 by Mr. Herbert and some others, who were esteemed 
 masters in the Roman eloquence " 1 
 
 "Whilst he was thus absorbed in his contemplative 
 pursuits, Sir Francis was again recalled to his public 
 duties in parliament, which reassembled on the 6th 
 of November, 1605, amidst the excitement of the 
 discovery of the " gunpowder plot." This may be 
 the time most suitable for introducing the position 
 which he took in regard to the religious controversies 
 and conflicts of his day. And we may further 
 anticipate one of his last documents, namely, his 
 Penitential Prayer, in which he appeals to the 
 Omniscient : " Remember, Lord, how thy servant 
 hath walked before thee : remember what I have 
 first sought, and what hath been principal in my 
 intentions. I have loved thy assemblies; I have 
 mourned for the divisions of thy church; I have 
 delighted in the brightness of thy sanctuary. This 
 vine which thy right hand hath planted in this 
 nation, I have ever prayed unto thee, that it might 
 have the first and the latter rain ; and that it might 
 stretch her branches to the seas and to the floods. " 
 
 This, of itself, shows us that his concern for our 
 Protestant constitution was more than that of an 
 
 1 Tennyson's Baconiana. Montague, note cccciii. 
 
120 BACON ON THE 
 
 enlightened statesmen. As we have said already, 
 the best anti-papal influences had been shed upon 
 his childhood by his parents; the civil and social 
 workings of Romanism, which he had observed and 
 measured in France, had cherished those influences ; 
 and the study of Holy Scripture, which he habitually 
 cultivated, confirmed them into permanent con- 
 victions. 
 
 By this we do not pretend that he ever became a 
 violent partisan against the Church of Rome, either 
 in his speeches or in his writings. Neither was he, 
 on the other hand, an exclusive advocate for the 
 Church of England, in opposition to the Puritans, 
 who, in his day, alarmed their rivals by the rank of 
 many, the learning of more, and the stern perti- 
 nacity of all. Indeed, in the whole range of eccle- 
 siastical history we can recall no one whose mind 
 looked down upon church controversies with more 
 anxious concern, yet with so little sympathy. 
 His was not the latitudinarianism of indifference. 
 What it was will be best described in his own 
 words, in which he is accounting for his writing 
 on such subjects, as a layman: "It is very true 
 that these ecclesiastical matters are things not pro- 
 perly appertaining to my profession; which I was 
 not so inconsiderate but to object to myself: but 
 finding that it is many times seen that a man that 
 standeth off, and somewhat removed from a plot of 
 ground, doth better survey it and discover it than 
 those which are upon it, I thought it not impossible, 
 
ACCESSION OF JAiTES I. 121 
 
 but that I, as a looker-on, might cast mine eyes upon 
 some things which the actors themselves, especially 
 some being interested, some led and addicted, some 
 declared and engaged, did not or would not see." 1 
 
 Did it consist with the limits which we have 
 prescribed for ourselves, we should feel we were 
 performing a high duty to the Church of Christ at 
 the present times, to transcribe the entire of Bacon's 
 enlarged views "Of Church Controversies," and "Of 
 the Pacification of the Church;" the republication of 
 them would be of the most important service now, 
 especially, that divisions have rearisen which threaten 
 ulterior schisms. For our present purpose, however, 
 the purpose of presenting the ecclesiastical condition 
 of Bacon's mind, it will be better to quote one 
 portion of his " Confession of Faith." 
 
 "That there is a universal or catholic church of 
 God, dispersed over the face of the earth, which is 
 Christ's spouse, and Christ's body; being gathered 
 of the fathers of the old world, of the church of the 
 Jews, of the spirits of the faithful dissolved, and the 
 spirits of the faithful militant, and of the names yet 
 to be born, which are already written in the book of 
 life." 2 
 
 In thus stating his comprehensiveness of charity 
 (and we must again aver that it was most remote 
 from indifferentism) ; a charity which embraced 
 the Eomanist on the one hand, and the Puritan 
 on the other — his stand-point being that of the 
 
 i Works, ii. p. 524. » Ibid, ii. p. 487. 
 
122 BACON ON TIIE 
 
 Church of England — we are bound to add a few of 
 his expressions in regard to both. 
 
 He says of some men in his day : " They think it 
 the true touchstone to try what is good and evil, by 
 measuring what is more or less opposite to the insti- 
 tutions of the Church of Borne, be it ceremony, be it 
 policy, or government; yea, be it other institutions 
 of greater weight, that is ever most perfect which is 
 removed most degrees from that church ; and that is 
 ever polluted and blemished, which participateth in 
 
 any appearance with it It is very meet that 
 
 men beware how they be abused by this opinion; 
 and that they know, that it is a consideration of 
 much greater wisdom and sobriety to be well advised, 
 whether in general demolition of the institutions of 
 the Church of Eome, there were not, as men's actions 
 are imperfect, some good purged with the bad, rather 
 than to purge the church, as they pretend, every day 
 anew; which is the way to make a way in the 
 bowels, as is already begun." 1 
 
 There can be no danger, as far as Bacon's authority 
 is concerned, in giving the above extract; for he 
 speaks thus of the controversies with the Puritans : 
 "Neither are they concerning the great parts of the 
 worship of God, of which it is true, that ' non serva- 
 tur unitas in credendo, nisi eadem adsit in colendo;' 2 
 there will be kept no unity in believing, except it be 
 
 i Works, ii. p. 511. 
 
 2 The words which follow the Latin, are the translation, both in this 
 and the other quotations in the rest of the letter. 
 
ACCESSION OF JAMES I. 123 
 
 entertained in worshipping; such as were the con- 
 troversies of the east and west churches touching 
 images, and such as are many of those between the 
 Church of Eome and us; as about the adoration of 
 the sacraments, and the like ; but we contend about 
 ceremonies and things indifferent ; about the eternal 
 policy and government of the church ; in which kind, 
 if we would but remember that the ancient and true 
 bonds of unity are one faith, one baptism, and not 
 one ceremony, one policy; if we would observe the 
 league amongst Christians that is framed by our 
 Saviour, "he that is not against us is with us;" if 
 we could but comprehend that saying, differ entice 
 rituum commendant unitatem doctrines; the diversity 
 of ceremonies do set forth the unity of doctrine; 
 and that habet religio quce sunt ceternitatis, habet 
 quae sunt temporis; religion hath parts which belong 
 to eternity, and parts which pertain to time ; and 
 if we did but know the virtue of silence, and 
 slowness to speak, commended by St. James, our 
 controversies of themselves would close up and grow 
 together. 1 
 
 The papers from which we have made the above 
 extracts were not published until after Lord Bacon's 
 death; but there is authentic evidence that they 
 were written about the present period of our memoir. 
 They will, therefore, assist us in endeavouring to 
 realize his feelings when he took his seat on the 
 reassembling of parliament, amidst all the stupor and 
 
 1 Works, ii. p. 501. 
 
124 BACON ON THE 
 
 commotion of the day following the memorable fifth 
 of November, 1605. The throne, the royal family, 
 the whole senate, had just been delivered from the 
 most tragic fate; and this, ineffable as was God's 
 mercy in their escape, was nothing in comparison 
 with the national disasters which must, otherwise, 
 have followed. And the plotters of such woe were 
 avowedly acting under the impulse of religion. We 
 may imagine the contemplative Bacon moving to his 
 wonted seat in the House of Commons on this 
 morning; threading his way through knots of 
 members, some cavaliers, some puritans, catching the 
 unmeasured scorn of the one, and the excited pro- 
 phecies of the other; then taking his place; anon 
 summoned with his colleagues to the Upper House 
 to meet his sovereign, and there listening to his 
 majesty as he told them all "that, though religion 
 had engaged the conspirators in so criminal an 
 attempt, yet ought we not to involve all the 
 Eoman Catholics in the same guilt, or suppose them 
 equally disposed to commit such enormous barbari- 
 ties." 1 
 
 Not even in the "Liberty of Prophesying" of 
 Bishop Jeremy Taylor ; not even in those indignant 
 words which Milton fulminated, do we find more 
 soul-melting or commanding truths on behalf of 
 man's individual liberty with his God, than in those 
 of Sir Francis Bacon. 
 
 We have no records of what he said or did upon 
 
 1 Hume, vi. p. 33. 
 
ACCESSION OF JAMES I. 125 
 
 this occasion : 1 an occasion which, albeit its com- 
 memoration has degenerated into one which provokes 
 folly as well as unthinking ill-feeling, ought never 
 to be forgotten by a Briton, be his creed what it 
 may ; for the success of a few half-maniac conspira- 
 tors might have turned the whole current of our 
 history into a flood of ruin irretrievable. 
 
 During this session, Bacon anew exhibited his 
 earnestness and high talents in reintroducing his 
 measures against the grievances of " wardship" and 
 "tenure in chivalry.' ' But the great legislative 
 movement which he strove, both by his speeches and 
 his writings, to realize, was the union of England 
 and Scotland. It is unnecessary to specify the 
 eloquent considerations which he urged; it is more 
 interesting to know that, from his firm and enlight- 
 ened conviction of its importance for both countries, 
 he dared to risk his influence in parliament and his 
 popularity among the people. It has been malignly 
 argued against him, that he did so in order the more 
 securely to win the favour of king James, with whom 
 this was a most cherished measure : but the answer 
 is obvious and complete, that, before he had become 
 aware of the designs of that monarch, he had 
 placed it in the very front of the proclamation 
 
 1 But in his charge against Talbot he observes : " Our excellent 
 sovereign, king James, the sweetness and clemency of whose nature 
 were enough to quench and mortify all malignity, and a king shielded 
 and supported by posterity ; yet this king, in the chair of majesty, his 
 vine and olive branches about him, attended by his nobles and third 
 estate in parliament ; ready in the twinkling of an eye, as if it had been 
 a particular doomsday, to have been brought to ashes, dispersed to the 
 four winds." Works, iv. p. 422. 
 
126 BACON OX THE 
 
 which, he advised him to utter on his entrance into 
 England. 
 
 Nevertheless, his ambition still exposed him to the 
 truth — " hope deferred maketh the heart sick." He 
 obtained no promotion. He had now reached his 
 forty-seventh year. Even the lowest of the great 
 law-offices had as yet eluded him. And further, he 
 was every day, when at the bar, exposed to the 
 bitterest insults and the systematic opposition of his 
 relentless enemy, Sir Edward Coke, now attorney- 
 general. The hostility of this man had been aggra- 
 vated by the great fame of Sir Eraneis, both as an 
 orator and an author. It at length passed all 
 bounds of endurance, when Bacon, instead of meet- 
 ing it by unseemly quarrels in public, wrote to Sir 
 Edward the following letter : — 
 
 Mr. Attorney, 
 
 "I thought best, once for all, to let you know 
 in plainness what I find in you, and what you shall find of me. 
 You take to yourself a liberty to disgrace and disable my law, 
 my experience, my discretion. What it pleaseth you, I pray, 
 think of me : I am one that knows both mine own wants, and 
 other men's ; and it may be, perchance, that mine mend when 
 others stand at a stay. And surely I may not endure in public 
 place to be wronged without repelling the same to my best 
 advantage to right myself. You are great, and, therefore, have 
 the more enviers, which would be glad to have you paid at 
 another's cost. Since the time I missed the solicitor's place, the 
 rather I think by your means, I cannot expect that you and I 
 shall ever serve as attorney and solicitor together ; but either to 
 serve with another upon your remove, or to step into some other 
 course ; so as I am more free than ever I was from any occasion 
 
ACCESSION OF JAMES I. 127 
 
 of unworthy conforming myself to you, more than general good 
 manners, or your particular good usage shall provoke ; and if 
 you had not been short-sighted in your own fortune, as I think, 
 you might have had more use of me. But that tide is passed. 
 I write not this to show my friends what a brave letter I have 
 written to the attorney ; I have none of those humours ; but 
 that I have written is to a good end, that is, to the more decent 
 carriage of my master's service, and to our particular better 
 understanding one of another. This letter, if it shall be 
 answered by you in deed and not in word, I suppose it will not 
 be the worse for us both ; else it is but a few lines lost, which 
 for a much smaller matter I would have adventured. So this 
 being to yourself, I for my part rest." 1 
 
 The whole tenor of this letter is that of dignity 
 and self-respect. It seeks not to propitiate the 
 coarse-minded and venomous tyrant of the bar by 
 any meanness of offer or solicitation. It only asks 
 for a truce of hostilities, which had been waged on 
 Coke's side to the utter disregard of common decency, 
 and to the degradation of the majesty of the law. 
 And joining this with Bacon's replies to his assailant, 
 as recorded in a former chapter, we may infer the 
 general amenity and placability of his disposition. 
 
 He was soon to be rescued from such daily 
 irritation. On the death of lord chief justice Gawdey, 
 Sir Edward Coke was promoted to the chief justice- 
 ship of the Common Pleas; and this fed to the vacancy 
 of the solicitor-generalship. 
 
 We need not give the correspondence of Sir 
 Francis upon the occasion. It was certain that, 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 297. 
 
128 BACON OX THE 
 
 notwithstanding all his former mortifying disappoint- 
 ments, his ambition would be again aroused. We 
 have two letters to his cousin, the Earl of Salisbury, 
 the prime minister, in which he betrays great anxiety 
 for the appointment, in the first of which he says : "I 
 would be glad now at last to be solicitor; chiefly 
 because I think it would increase my practice, wherein 
 God blessing me a few years, I may mend my state, 
 and so after fall to my studies at ease; whereof one is 
 requisite for my body, and the other serveth for my 
 mind." In this he failed again. At length, however, 
 Cecil, who had gained the summit, and no longer 
 feared the " contemplative philosopher "as a rival, 
 gave him the promise of his services, laying aside that 
 jealousy which, in the last years of Elizabeth and 
 the first years of James, had been an insurmountable 
 obstacle to the advancement of his cousin. Every 
 means was adopted, but in vain, to induce Fleming, 
 his successful competitor, to exchange his office for 
 that of king's Serjeant; when, whilst Bacon was 
 besieging the lord chancellor Egerton, and even his 
 majesty, with entreaties, the death of Sir Lawrence 
 Tanfield, chief justice of the King's Bench, oppor- 
 tunely relieved all parties from embarrassment. 
 Fleming was immediately appointed his successor, 
 and on the 25th of June, 1607, Sir Francis gained 
 the object of his suit, and became solicitor-general to 
 the crown. Upon this Mallet, one of his biographers, 
 remarks that, as a fact not less instructive than 
 humiliating, it deserves the notice of all the votaries 
 
ACCESSION OF JAMES I. 129 
 
 of ambition, that a man so superior, and whose high 
 talents were so universally acknowledged, should 
 never have attained any post, however inferior, with- 
 out degrading solicitations. 
 
 He held this office for six years, uniting its arduous 
 duties with those of increased practice at the bar, his 
 special functions as " king's counsel," his labours in 
 the senate, and, above all, his unremitting pre- 
 paration of his philosophy. 
 
 It would be only fatiguing to our readers to enter 
 upon the details of his official life during this period. 
 As Lord Campbell observes: "The only prosecution 
 of much consequence during the six years he was 
 solicitor-general, was that of Lord Sanquhar for the 
 murder of the fencing-master, who had accidentally 
 put out one of the northern peer's eyes, in playing at 
 rapier and dagger. This he conducted with a becom- 
 ing mixture of firmness and mildness. After clearly 
 stating the law and the facts, he then addressed the 
 prisoner: 'I will conclude towards you, my lord, 
 that though your offence hath been great, yet your 
 confession hath been free ; and this shows that, 
 though you could not resist the tempter, yet you bear 
 a Christian and generous mind, answerable to the 
 noble family of which you are descended.' The 
 conviction and execution of this Scotch nobleman 
 have been justly considered as reflecting great credit 
 on the administration of justice in the reign of 
 James." 1 
 
 1 State Trials, p. 743. 
 I 
 
130 BACOX ON THE 
 
 This case stands out, in its delicate humaneness, in 
 high relief to Bacon's unnecessary virulence against 
 Lord Essex, even supposing him to have been merely 
 a prosecutor of the crown upon the latter occasion. 
 It therefore the more conclusively proves to us the 
 sinister influences under which he must have for- 
 merly been acting. 
 
 Mr. Tobie Matthew, son of the archbishop of 
 York, was, as already stated, one of his most 
 intimate and faithful friends. He had some time 
 previously conformed to the Church of Eome, and 
 in the midst of the public excitement which arose 
 from the gunpowder treason, he had fallen under 
 suspicion, and was at length imprisoned. The 
 following is one of the very few allusions which 
 Bacon made to that event, and to its collateral con- 
 siderations : — 
 
 "Mr. Matthew, 
 
 " Do not think me forgetful or altered towards 
 you; but if I should say I could do you any good, I should 
 make my power more than it is. I do hear that which I am 
 right sorry for ; that you grow more impatient and busy than at 
 first ; which maketh me exceedingly fear the issue of that which 
 seemeth not to stand at a stay. I myself am out of doubt that 
 you have been miserably abused, when you were first seduced ; 
 but that which I take in compassion others may take in 
 severity. I pray God, that understandeth us all better than we 
 understand one another, contain you, even as I hope he will, at 
 the least within the bounds of loyalty to his majesty, and 
 natural piety towards your country. And I entreat you much, 
 sometimes to meditate upon the extreme effects of superstition 
 in this last powder treason ; fit to be tabled and pictured in the 
 
ACCESSION OP JA^IES I. 131 
 
 chambers of meditation as another hell above the ground, and 
 well justifying the censure of the heathen, that superstition is 
 far worse than atheism ; by how much it is less evil to have no 
 opinion of God at all, than such as is impious towards his 
 Divine majesty and goodness. Good Mr. Matthew, receive 
 yourself back from these courses of perdition. Trilling to have 
 written a great deal more, I continue, &c." l 
 
 From this letter, it is evident that Bacon entertained. 
 the most anxious fears lest the loyalty and patriotism 
 of his friend should be affected by his conversion to 
 Eomanism. It were as absurd as it would be false, 
 to assert the actual connection of the two ; but their 
 logical connection we believe to be indisputable. 
 And how much he was impressed with this as a truth, 
 appears from the numerous and cautious provisions 
 with which he sought to surround the oaths of 
 allegiance. 
 
 About this time he circulated a memoir on " Plan- 
 tations (or Colonizations) in Ireland. " This paper 
 has been, we think, most erroneously attributed to 
 an earlier period. That it was composed during his 
 solicitor- generalship is clear, from his thus accounting 
 for his writing it: "And I was the rather invited 
 thus to do, by the remembrance that when the lord 
 chief justice deceased, Popham, served in the place 
 wherein I now serve, and afterwards in the attorney's 
 place, he laboured greatly in the last project, touching 
 the plantation of Munster," &c. This small tract 
 teems with the most enlarged views as to the duty 
 and policy of England towards her unhappy sister. 
 
 i Works, v. p. 304. 
 
132 BACON ON THE 
 
 And how his earnestness as a statesman enkindled 
 his fervour as a poet, may be learned from the follow- 
 ing passage, one as exquisite in its beauty as noble in 
 its aspirations. He is adducing four reasons for his 
 majesty's accepting his proposals for the conciliation 
 and improvement of that country. 
 
 " The first of the four, is honour ; whereof I have spoken 
 enough already, were it not that the harp of Ireland puts me 
 in mind of that glorious emblem or allegory, wherein the wisdom 
 of antiquity did figure and shadow outworks of this nature. For 
 the poets feigned that Orpheus, by the virtue and sweetness of 
 his harp, did call and assemble the beasts and birds, of their 
 nature wild and savage, to stand about him as in a theatre ; 
 forgetting their affections of fierceness, of lust, and of prey, and 
 listening to the tunes and harmonies of the harp ; and soon after 
 called likewise the stones and woods to remove, and stand in 
 order about him ; which fable was anciently interpreted of the 
 reducing and plantation of kingdoms, when people of barbarous 
 manners are brought to give over and discontinue their customs 
 of revenge and blood, and of dissolute life, and of theft, and of 
 rapine, and to give ear to the wisdom of laws and governments ; 
 whereupon immediately followeth the calling of stones for build- 
 ing and habitation ; and of trees for the seats of houses, orchards, 
 and in closures, and the like. This work, therefore, of all other 
 most memorable and honourable, your majesty hath now in 
 hand ; especially if your majesty join the harp of David in cast- 
 ing out the evil spirit of superstition, with the harp of Orpheus 
 in casting out desolation and barbarism. l " 
 
 It is not for us to utter any opinion upon these 
 benevolent designs of Sir Francis Bacon for that 
 land, the conciliation of which is still an enigma 
 
 i Works, iii. p. 319. 
 
ACCESSION OP JAiTES I. 133 
 
 in statesmanship. We may, however, venture to 
 observe that his views, grounded as they were upon 
 the principles of civilization which were practised 
 by the ancient Bomans, were supported by the late 
 Sir Eobert Peel. And the friends of Ireland will 
 never forget, whatever may be their several judg- 
 ments upon the measure, that his last proposal for 
 her was the same as Bacon's. His earliest days 
 as a statesman were passed in her government ; 
 throughout years of anxiety he had pondered over 
 steps for her well-being ; hoping to secure it, he had 
 made (wisely or no, we say not) the utmost official 
 sacrifices. Within the comprehension of his states- 
 manship, he had to include all the dynasties of Europe ; 
 but he never forgot that Ireland "is endowed with 
 so many dowries of nature. Considering the fruitful - 
 ness of the soil, the ports, the rivers, the fishings, 
 the quarries, the woods, and other materials; and 
 especially the race and generation of men, valiant, 
 hard, and active, as it is not easy, no, not upon the 
 continent, to find such confluence of commodities, 
 if the hand of man did join with the hand of 
 nature." 1 
 
 We must close this chapter with another proof 
 of the almost fabulous intellectual industry of Sir 
 Francis Bacon. We have seen somewhat, but not 
 all, of his vast toil in civil life during his solicitor- 
 generalship. But meanwhile, he found time and 
 mental energy for composing and publishing his 
 
 1 Works, vol. iii. p. 321. 
 
 - 
 
134 BACON ON THE 
 
 "Cogitataet Visa, "and the "De SapientiaVeterum." 
 The former is a second prelude only of that system 
 of which he had already contributed the introduc- 
 tion — "The Advancement of Learning." In the 
 preface he informs his readers that, whether his 
 opinions be received with welcome, or laid aside, 
 his own responsibility must be discharged, and that 
 he is not without hope that other minds would 
 thenceafter arise who would select the best from 
 among them, and perfect their development. 1 
 
 The "De Sapientia Veterum," or "Concerning 
 the Wisdom of the Ancients," is an interpretation 
 of the Pagan mythology. It is more striking for 
 its sagacity, and far more valuable for the profound 
 views of human nature and society which are inter- 
 spersed, than convincing as a commentary. Upon 
 sending a copy to his confidential friend Mr. Matthew, 
 he thus writes: "My great work goeth forward; 
 and after my manner, I alter ever when I add. So 
 that nothing is finished till all be finished. This I 
 have written in the midst of a term and parliament ; 
 thinking no time so possessed, but that I should 
 talk of these matters with so good and dear a 
 friend." 2 
 
 About this time Sir Francis republished his 
 Essays, increased to four times their original number 
 and extent, but without the Meditations, and the 
 Colours of Good and Mil. He had converted most 
 
 l Works, ix. p. 359. The " Filum Labyrinthi " is an unfinished out- 
 line of this work. 2 Ibid, vol. v. p. 321. 
 
ACCESSION OF JA1TES I. 135 
 
 of the former into Essays, and reserved the latter to 
 embody them in the De Aug mentis Scientiarum. This 
 new edition he inscribed to Sir John Constable, the 
 husband of his maternal aunt. He says: "!Mylast 
 essays I dedicated to my dear brother, Mr. Anthony 
 Bacon, who is with Grod. Looking amongst my 
 papers this vacation, I found others of the same 
 nature; which, if I myself shall not suffer to be 
 lost, it seemeth the world will not, by the often 
 printing of the former." 1 
 
 This affectionate reference to his deceased brother, 
 coupled with his dedication of the Essays to another, 
 though more distant relative, is valuable, as showing 
 the family emotions to have been strong within him. 
 
 He had originally determined to inscribe them to 
 Henry, prince of Vales, a prince of whom it has 
 been said: "His excellent qualities had endeared 
 him to the love and expectations of all England. 
 Germanicus was not more the darling of the Roman 
 people." His untimely death, however, defeated 
 Eacon's purpose. Eut the inscription which he had 
 prepared contains the best account that can be given 
 of this the most extensively read of all his writings : 
 "The word [Essays] is late, but the thing is 
 ancient; for Seneca's Epistles to Lucilius, if you 
 mark them well, are but essays, that is, dispersed 
 meditations, though conveyed in the form of epistles. 
 These labours of mine, I know, cannot be worthy of 
 your highness, for what can be worthy of you ? Eut 
 
 i Montague's Bacon, vol. i. p. xxxiii. 
 
136 BACON ON THE 
 
 my hope is, they may be as grains of salt, that will 
 rather give you an appetite, than offend you with 
 satiety. And, although they handle those things 
 wherein both men's lives and their persons are most 
 conversant, yet what I have attained I know not ; 
 but I have endeavoured to make them not vulgar, 
 but of a nature, whereof a man shall find much in 
 experience, and little in books ; so as they are neither 
 repetitions nor fancies." 1 
 
 There is the highest probability that, during this 
 period, Bacon drew up that " Confession of Faith" 
 from which the theoretical character of his Christianity 
 may be ascertained. It was first published in a 
 quarto pamphlet of twelve pages, in 1641 ; then in 
 the Remains, 1648 ; then by Eawley in the Resusci- 
 tatio, 1657. Of its authenticity, therefore, there can 
 be no doubt. It exists also in various manuscripts in 
 the British Museum: one copy (Birch MS. 4263) 
 Mr. Montague conceives to be in Bacon's own hand- 
 writing. In the Remains, the confession is stated to 
 have been written by him about the time when he 
 was solicitor-general (a.d. 1607-12). " 2 
 
 The length of this important document is our only 
 reason for not giving it entire. "We cannot refrain, 
 however, from selecting those passages which bear 
 upon the fundamental doctrines of the Christian 
 faith; such, for instance, as the fall of man, the 
 Divinity of Christ, the atonement, regeneration by the 
 Holy Spirit, and the sufficiency of the Holy Scrip- 
 
 l Works, v. p. 324. * Craik's Bacon, i. P. 159. 
 
ACCESSION OF JAMES I. 137 
 
 tures. We confess that we attach high value to these 
 records ; not because we need them as aids to ascer- 
 tain the doctrines of divine revelation; for these , 
 essentials of our belief are written in the Bible as V 
 with sunbeams ; nor because we need them as proofs 
 that conclusions so humbling to human pride and to 
 human power, could find place and consist with the 
 loftiest and the mightiest intellectual aspirations; for, 
 even if no "wise men after the flesh" had received 
 them, we should have ample confidence in the fact that 
 " God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to 
 confound the wise ; and God hath chosen the weak 
 things of the world to confound the things which are 
 mighty; and base things of the world, and things 
 which are despised, hath God chosen; yea, and 
 things which are not, to bring to nought things that 
 are: that no flesh should glory in his presence." 1 
 Nevertheless, there are some men on whom such a 
 form of evidence as this before us, may have weight 
 sufficient — not to convince or to convert — but to arrest 
 them. There are some men who shrink, as it were, 
 instinctively from the following truths, simply be- 
 cause they have been popularly associated with 
 mental imbecility and mental credulousness. And 
 further, there are others who, because some of the 
 expressions of Hilton and Locke are ambiguous upon 
 the cardinal doctrine of the Divinity of Christ, have, 
 with unblushing unfairness, ranked Bacon with them, 
 for the purpose of forming a high literary triumvirate 
 
 i 1 Cor. i. 27—9. 
 
138 BACON ON THE 
 
 to contradict it. Let us then beg all such to weigh 
 the following : — 
 
 1. " That God made all things in their first estate good, and 
 removed from himself the beginning of all evil and vanity into 
 the liberty of the creature, but reserved in himself the beginning 
 of all restitution to the liberty of his grace ; using, nevertheless, 
 and turning the falling and defection of the creature, which to 
 his prescience was eternally known, to make way to his eternal 
 counsel, touching a Mediator, and the work He purposed to 
 accomplish in him. ,, 
 
 " That God created man in his own image, in a reasonable 
 soul, in innocency, in free-will, and in sovereignty : that he 
 gave him a law and commandment, which was in his power to 
 keep, but he kept it not : that man made a total defection from 
 God, presuming to imagine that the commandments and prohibi- 
 tions of God were not the rules of good and evil, but that good 
 and evil had their own principles and beginnings, and lusted 
 after the knowledge of those imagined beginnings ; to the end, 
 to depend no more upon God's will revealed, but upon himself, 
 and his own light, as a God ; than the which there could not be 
 a sin more opposite to the whole law of God : that yet, neverthe- 
 less, this great sin was not originally moved by the malice of 
 man, but was insinuated by the suggestion and instigation of 
 the devil, who was the first defected creature, and fell of malice, 
 and not by temptation." 
 
 2. " That God, out of His eternal and infinite goodness and 
 love purposing to become a Creator, and to communicate to his 
 creatures, ordained in his eternal counsel, that one person of th^ 
 Godhead should be united to our nature, and to one particular 
 of his creatures : that so, in the person of the Mediator, the true 
 ladder might be fixed, whereby God might descend to his 
 creatures, and his creatures might ascend to God .... all 
 with respect to the Mediator ; which is the great mystery and 
 perfect centre of all God's ways with his creatures, and unto 
 which all his other works and wonders do but serve and refer. ,, 
 
ACCESSION OF JAMES I. 139 
 
 3. " That Jesus, the Lord, became in the flesh a sacrificer and 
 a sacrifice for sin ; a satisfaction and price to the justice of God ; > 
 a meriter of glory and the kingdom ; a pattern of all righteous- 
 ness ; a preacher of the word which himself was ; a finisher of 
 the ceremonies ; a corner-stone to remove the separation between 
 Jew and Gentile ; an intercessor for the church ; a lord of nature 
 in his miracles ; a conqueror of death and the power of dark- 
 ness in his resurrection ; and that he fulfilled the whole counsel 
 of God, performing all his sacred offices and anointing on earth, 
 accomplished the whole work of the redemption and restitution 
 of man to a state superior to the angels, whereas the state of 
 man by creation was inferior, and reconciled and established all 
 things according to the eternal will of the Father." 
 
 4. "That the sufferings and merits of Christ, as they are suf- 
 ficient to do away the sins of the whole world, so they are only 
 effectual to those which are regenerate by the Holy Ghost, who ', 
 breatheth where he will of free grace ; which grace, as a seed 
 incorruptible, quickeneth the spirit of man, and conceiveth him 
 anew a son of God, and a member of Christ : so that Christ 
 having man's flesh, and man having Christ's spirit, there is an 
 open passage and mutual imputation, whereby sin and wrath 
 was conveyed to Christ from man, and merit and life is conveyed 
 to man from Christ." 
 
 "That the work of the Spirit, though it be not tied to any 
 means in heaven or earth, yet it is ordinarily dispensed by the 
 preaching of the word ; the administration of the sacraments ; 
 the covenants of the fathers upon the children ; prayer ; 
 reading ; the censures of the church ; the society of the godly ; 
 the cross and afflictions ; his judgments upon others ; miracles ; 
 the contemplation of his creatures ; all which, though some be 
 more principal, God useth as the means of vocation and conver- . 
 sion of his elect ; not derogating from his power to call imme- 
 diately by his grace, and at all hours and moments of the day, 
 that is, of man's life, according to his good pleasure." 
 
 5. "That the word of God, whereby his will is revealed, 
 
140 BACON ON THE 
 
 continued in revelation and tradition until Moses ; and that the 
 Scriptures were from Moses' time to the times of the apostles 
 and evangelists, in whose age, after the coming of the Holy 
 Ghost, the teacher of all truth, the book of the Scriptures was 
 shut and closed, so as not to receive any new addition ; and that 
 the church hath no power over the Scriptures to teach or com- 
 mand anything contrary to the written word ; but is as the ark, 
 wherein the tables of the first testament were kept and preserved : 
 that is to say, the church hath only the custody and delivery 
 over of the Scriptures committed unto the same, together with 
 the interpretation of them, but such only as is conceived from 
 themselves." l 
 
 We admit that the above is but a selection, but 
 it is a fair and an unprejudiced one. Each and all of 
 these quotations are in perfect accordance with the 
 other beliefs that have not been mentioned, solely 
 from want of space in a memoir. And we are free to 
 say that they are, for the most part, echoes of the 
 primal truths of the gospel. We insist upon man's 
 utter defection from his Maker; upon the utter 
 inability of man to return back and to be accepted in 
 his allegiance to that Maker, without a Mediator; 
 upon the Divinity of that Mediator ; upon the sacri- 
 ficial nature of his sufferings, and the substitutionary 
 nature of his merits; upon the imputation of man's 
 sin to him, and of his righteousness to man ; upon 
 the work of the Holy Ghost as indispensable for 
 quickening within the heart true repentance as the 
 antecedent, and faith and prayer as consequents; 
 upon the sufficiency and finality of Holy Scripture, 
 
 i Works, ii. p. 481—8. 
 
ACCESSION OF JA3IES I. 141 
 
 in inculcating that repentance, that prayer, and that 
 faith. 
 
 We must repeat that, in thus adducing Bacon's 
 creed, we do so, not with any idea that his seal and 
 superscription could authenticate our belief; nay, 
 we do adduce it with the distressing certainty before 
 us, that his theory and his practice were at sad 
 variance ; but as our more immediate object in this 
 part of our memoir is to ascertain what were his 
 intellectual convictions about religion, we submit the 
 facts from which our readers may come to a con- 
 clusion. 
 
 Should any one charge moral weakness upon the 
 theory because of the moral weakness of Bacon's 
 practice, we ask — What theory is bound to commit 
 itself, for a test, to its influence upon one in- 
 dividual, or upon individuals ? The gospel, however, 
 while it can point to individuals innumerable as 
 indicating its sanctifying power, is able also to 
 appeal to masses and communities with even a more 
 enlarged confidence. 
 
 Mr. Craik has written upon this subject with dis- 
 crimination and elegant propriety: "Of Bacon's 
 firm belief, not only in the general truth of Chris- 
 tianity, but in all its most mysterious doctrines as 
 commonly received, no doubt can be entertained 
 by any mind that has come without prejudice to 
 the perusal of his writings. He has indeed been 
 charged in modern times, by some controversialists of 
 the ultra-Pioman party, with employing so many 
 
142 BACON ON THE ACCESSION OF JAMES I. 
 
 professions of faith and piety merely to mask his real 
 convictions from the vulgar eye ; while he has at the 
 same time, it is pretended, in other passages either 
 allowed the truth to escape him inadvertently, or 
 purposely taken care to make himself sufficiently 
 intelligible to the more discerning reader. But this 
 is the mere virulence and lunacy of party hatred. 
 The whole strain of what Bacon has written, it may 
 be safely affirmed, without the exception of a single 
 sentence, testifies to his mind being made up in 
 favour of the truth of revelation. And that not from 
 mere education, or use and wont, but from reflection 
 and examination for himself. He was evidently a 
 great reader of theological works; he displays a 
 familiar acquaintance with the learning both of 
 ecclesiastical history and of polemics, as well as with 
 the Scriptures ; and, at the same time, all his exposi- 
 tions and arguments have the unmistakeable air of 
 having mingled with, and taken their colour from, his 
 own mind." 1 
 
 1 Craik's Bacon, i. p. 164. 
 
CHAPTEK IX. 
 
 SIK EEAXCT8 BACOX ATTOEXEY-GEXEBAL. 
 
 Bacox was now on the eve of promotion. We have 
 heretofore remarked it as a painful fact, that, in spite 
 of his vast and universally acknowledged talents, 
 he obtained no honours but at the expense of the 
 most servile solicitations. This want of success 
 must, we repeat again, be chiefly attributed to the 
 jealous and active discountenance with which Lord 
 Burleigh and Sir Edward Cecil treated him. The 
 former had been dead for some years; the son, at 
 length, followed the father, and the obstacle was 
 removed. Bacon became more impatient for ad- 
 vancement than even he had been before ; and 
 although the attorney-generalship was not vacant, he 
 besought its reversion in the following letter to 
 his majesty. "We give it entire, for it discloses a 
 degree of self-ignorance which, especially as seen in 
 a man of knowledge so manifold, is painfully instruc- 
 tive. 
 
144 BACON ATTOENEY-GEKEEAL. 
 
 " It may please your majesty, 
 
 " Your great and princely favours towards me in 
 advancing me to place; and that which is to me of no less 
 comfort, your majesty's benign and gracious acceptation, from 
 time to time, of my poor services, much above the merit and 
 value of them ; hath almost brought me to an opinion that I 
 may sooner, perchance, be wanting to myself in not asking, 
 than find your majesty's goodness wanting to me in any my 
 reasonable and modest desires. And therefore perceiving how 
 at this time preferments of law fly about mine ears, to some 
 above me, and to some below me ; I did conceive your majesty 
 may think it rather a kind of dulness, or want of faith, than 
 modesty, if I should not come with my pitcher to Jacob's well, 
 as others do. Wherein I shall propound to your majesty that 
 which tendeth not so much to the raising of my fortune as to 
 the settling of my mind; being sometimes assailed with this 
 cogitation, that by reason of my slowness to see and apprehend 
 sudden occasions, keeping in one plain course of painful service, 
 I may, in fine dierum [at the end of my days], be in danger to 
 be neglected and forgotten ; and if that should be, then were it 
 much better for me, now while I stand in your majesty's good 
 opinion, though unworthy, and have some little reputation in 
 the world, to give over the course I am in, and to make proof to 
 do you some honour by my pen, either by writing some faithful 
 narrative of your happy, though not untraduced times ; or by 
 recompiling your laws, which I perceive your majesty laboureth 
 with and hath in your head, as Jupiter had Pallas, or some 
 other the like work, for without some endeavour to do you 
 honour I would not live ; than to spend my wits and time in 
 this laborious place wherein I now serve, if it shall be deprived 
 of those outward ornaments which it was wont to have in 
 respect of an assured succession to some place of more dignity 
 and rest, which seemeth now to be an hope altogether casual, if 
 not wholly intercepted. Wherefore, not to hold your majesty 
 long, my humble suit to your majesty is that, than the which I 
 
BACON ATTOEXEY-GEXERAL. 145 
 
 cannot well go lower ; which is, that I may obtain your royal 
 promise to succeed, if I live, into the attorney's place, whenso- 
 ever it shall be void ; it being but the natural and immediate 
 step and rise which the place I now hold hath ever, in sort, 
 made claim to, and almost never failed of. In this suit I make 
 no friends but to your majesty, rely upon no other motive but 
 your grace, nor any other assurance but your word ; whereof I 
 had good experience, when I came to the solicitor's place, that it 
 was like to the two great lights, which in their motions are 
 never retrograde, So with my best prayers for your majesty's 
 happiness, I rest. " 1 . . . . 
 
 "What were the immediate motives for this extra- 
 ordinary letter, Ave know not. From the expression, 
 "at this time preferments of law fly about mine 
 ears, to some above me, and to some below me," it 
 may be assumed that he had been very irregularly 
 passed over in the distribution of the prizes of the 
 law. So far his self-advocacy would be natural ; but 
 if ever a man betrayed an unacquaintedness with his 
 own heart and character, it was Bacon, when he 
 suspected himself of " slowness to see and apprehend 
 sudden occasions." And as if to present it in a light 
 which approached the ludicrous, he, very shortly 
 after, wrote a second letter to the king, one in which 
 he showed himself indelicately quick to see and 
 apprehend a most sudden occasion ; for Mr. Attorney 
 fell ill, and his majesty was again besieged : — 
 
 "It may please your most excellent majesty, 
 
 " I do understand by some of my good friends, to 
 my great comfort, that your majesty hath in mind your majesty's 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 322. 
 K 
 
146 BACON ATTORNEY-GENEKAL. 
 
 royal promise, which to me is anchor a spei [anchor of hope], 
 touching the attorney's place. I hope Mr. Attorney shall do well . 
 I thank God I wish no man's death, nor much mine own life, 
 more than to do your majesty service. For I account my life the 
 accident, and my duty the substance. But this I will he hold 
 to say : if it please God that I ever serve your majesty in the 
 attorney's place, I have known an attorney Coke, and an 
 attorney Hobart, both worthy men, and far above myself; 
 but if I should not find a middle way between their two dis- 
 positions and carriages, I should not satisfy myself. But these 
 things are far or near, as it shall please God." l 
 
 We have said, that this letter betrays extraordi- 
 nary self-ignorance. It would be incredible, were 
 we not aware that self-knowledge is a science apart 
 from all the others. In Bacon's classification of the 
 objects of human knowledge he has, with the widest 
 comprehension, embraced those which are moral, 
 as well as those which are physical, and has 
 traced the mutual affinities of the two; thus 
 proving that they reciprocate their lights upon each 
 other. Whence it follows, that the true cultivation 
 of either department will illustrate the other. But 
 self- acquaintance stands alone. It may exist in the 
 midst of utter ignorance of every other science. It 
 may be the only one absent of the whole circle of 
 human investigation. For conscience is its singular 
 instrument, and may, or may not, be in exercise, 
 although every other activity be at work. And what 
 makes the case before us the more impressive is, that 
 no man ever threaded through the mazes of the soul 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 323. 
 
BACON ATTOEKEY-GEXEEAL. 147 
 
 with greater facility than did Bacon — keen- sighted 
 as to all its labyrinths, until he came upon the 
 domain of his own heart. And his wanderings 
 there cost him more than all his sublime and trustful 
 expatiations in other regions could redeem. Dare 
 we hope that when he felt the bitterness of his 
 error he learned to pray : " Search me, God, and 
 know my heart ; try me, and know my thoughts ; 
 and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead 
 me in the way everlasting ? " 
 
 The attorney-general recovered, and Bacon was 
 again in a fever of anxiety. But on the death of 
 chief-justice Fleming, by a series of the most dex- 
 terous manoeuvres, he induced his majesty to transfer 
 Sir Edward Coke from the Common Pleas to the 
 King's Bench, and to confer the post thus vacated 
 upon the attorney-general. He then gained his own 
 suit for himself. 
 
 His gratification was twofold; for he not only 
 obtained his promotion, but injured and humbled his 
 fast enemy Coke. We dare not conceal the latter 
 fact. The ingenuity of the arguments with which 
 he urged the king, was too subtle to have been guile- 
 less. And Sir Edward Coke saw through his wiles, 
 and was mortified at their success; for soon after, 
 on meeting Bacon, he said to him: "]\Ir. Attorney, 
 this is all your doing : it is you that have made this 
 stir." Mr. Attorney answered : " Ah, my lord, your 
 lordship all this while hath grown in breadth ; you 
 must needs now grow in height, qt else you would be 
 
148 BACON ATTOKNEY-GENEKAL. 
 
 a monster.' ' To understand all this, it may be neces- 
 sary to observe, that what Coke gained in position by 
 this arrangement, he more than lost in emoluments. 
 
 For some time previous, Bacon had volunteered the 
 most patriotic but unpalatable counsel to the king. 
 He perceived the wide spirit of discontent which 
 the illegal exactions of the crown had spread through- 
 out the country, and he longed to save the popularity 
 of his sovereign ; and, at the same time, by constitu- 
 tional measures to relieve his treasury from its 
 difficulties. He performed an ungracious but noble 
 task, when he wrote to his majesty the following : — 
 
 " My . . • prayer is, that your majesty, in respect 
 
 of the hasty freeing of your state, would not descend to any 
 means, or degree of means, which carrieth not a symmetry with 
 your majesty and greatness. He is gone, from whom those 
 courses did wholly flow. 1 So have your wants and necessities in 
 particular, as it were, hanged up in two tablets before the eyes 
 of your Lords and Commons, to be talked of for four months toge- 
 ther ; to have all your courses to help yourself in revenue and 
 profit put into printed books, which were wont to be held arcana 
 imperii [government-secrets] ; to have such worms of aldermen 
 to lend for ten in the hundred upon good assurance, and with 
 such * * *, as if it should save the bark of your fortune ; to 
 contract still where might be had the readiest payment, and 
 not the best bargain; to stir a number of projects for your profit, 
 and then to blast them, and leave your majesty nothing but the 
 scandal of them; to pretend an even carriage between your 
 majesty's rights and the ease of the people, and to satisfy neither. 
 These courses, and others the like, I hope are gone with the de- 
 viser of them ; which have turned your majesty to inestimable 
 prejudice." 2 
 
 1 The Earl of Salisbury. 2 Works, vi. p. 54. 
 
BACON ATTORNEY- GEXEEAL. 149 
 
 Again : — 
 
 "The great matter, and most instant for the present, is 
 the consideration of a parliament, for two effects ; the one for 
 the supply of your estate ; the other for the better knitting 
 of the hearts of your subjects unto your majesty, according 
 to your infinite merit ; for both which parliaments have been, 
 and are, the ancient and honourable remedy.' ' * 
 
 There may have been a spirit of vindictiyeness in 
 these allusions to Lord Salisbury, from whom he had 
 suffered much unfriendliness ; but no one will deny 
 Bacon's courage and constitutional principles in this 
 advice. 
 
 He had scarcely taken the oaths as attorney- 
 general when this advice was followed, and a new 
 parliament was called. He was one of the elected; 
 but at that period there was no precedent of an attor- 
 ney-general having been chosen for a seat in the 
 House of Commons. Mr. T. Duncombe raised the 
 question of his eligibility. He was answered, that 
 Sir Henry Hobart had been allowed to sit while 
 attorney-general. It was rejoined, and accepted by 
 the house, that this case did not apply ; as he was a 
 member when he was made attorney-general, and 
 therefore could not be unseated. 
 
 Bacon's position was critical ; for if he had been 
 refused his seat, he must have lost much of that 
 influence which made him so valuable in his office. 
 But the debate led the house to distinguish him with 
 an unknown mark of favour and confidence. This 
 
 1 Works, vi. p. 53. 
 
150 BACON ATTOKNEY-GENERAL. 
 
 arose from no feeling of complacency towards the 
 crown, for the parliament was irritated, and disposed 
 to be intractable. Their high value of his past 
 services, and their wish to retain his talents, beguiled 
 them into what was an irregularity at that day ; and 
 it was resolved, " that Mr. Attorney- General Bacon 
 remain in the house for this parliament, but never 
 any attorney-general to serve in the lower house in 
 future." 
 
 Thus, with the full confidence of his sovereign and 
 the affections of his country, he took his seat. 
 
 In this parliament, which was very abruptly dis- 
 solved, in consequence of its opposition to the king's 
 measures to obtain supplies, Sir Francis Bacon spoke 
 on one occasion only. The lower house was in the 
 utmost excitement, from the suspicion that certain 
 members were in concert with his majesty with the 
 purpose to override it. It was then that the new 
 attorney-general, full of hope in his influence with 
 the Commons, tried to assuage the storm. His speech 1 
 is marked with all the features of practised oratory. 
 He conciliates the audience to himself; identifies 
 himself with them in their indignation ; supposing 
 their suspicion to be just, aims to make them sceptical 
 as to its possibility — the bare idea of it being so 
 infatuate ; and as he closes, thus guards himself 
 against their diffidence in his sincerity : " Thus have 
 I told you my opinion. I know it had been more 
 safe and politic to have been silent ; but it is perhaps 
 
 1 Works, iii. p. 395. 
 
BACOX ATTORNEY- GEXEBAL. 151 
 
 more honest and loving to speak. The old verse is 
 Nam nulli tacuisse nocet, nocet esse hcutum ; l but, by 
 your leave, David saith, Silui a honis, et dolor mens 
 renovatus est. 2 When a man speaketh, he may be 
 wounded by others ; but if he hold his peace from 
 good things, he wounds himself. So I have done my 
 part, and leave it to you to do that which you shall 
 judge to be the best." 
 
 Nevertheless, he was not successful ; and his must 
 have been a distressing interview with the king, when 
 he had to repair to "Whitehall, and announce that his 
 own project of a parliament had been worse than 
 useless. The monarch's pecuniary perplexities were 
 aggravated by the mortification of defeat. The 
 attorney-general's capability to help him was most 
 seriously at stake. It was at this crisis Bacon's con- 
 stitutional principles failed him, and at the cost of 
 special pleading with his conscience, he cast about 
 him for any and every means wherewith to extricate 
 his master. 
 
 The violent pertinacity of the Commons against 
 the demands of their sovereign aroused a loyal indig- 
 nation within many. "It stirred up (thus Bacon 
 speaks in his charge against Mr. Oliver St. John) 
 and awaked in divers of his majesty's worthy servants 
 and subjects, of the clergy, the nobility, the court, 
 and others here near at hand, an affection loving and 
 cheerful, to present the king, some with plate, some 
 
 l Silence does harm to no one ; it is speech that injures. 
 2 " I held my peace even from good ; and my sorrow was stirred." 
 
152 BACON ATTOEKEY-GENEEAL. 
 
 with money, as free-will offerings, a thing that God 
 Almighty loves, a cheerful giver : what an evil eye 
 doth, I know not." It is curious to observe the logic 
 with which he defends this interference with the 
 prerogative of the Commons : " My lords, let me 
 speak it plainly to you : God forbid anybody should 
 be so wretched as to think that the obligation of love 
 and duty, from the subject to the king, should be 
 joint and not several. No, my lords, it is both. The 
 subject petitioneth to the king in parliament. He 
 petitioneth likewise out of parliament. The king, on 
 the other side, gives graces to the subject in parlia- 
 ment: he gives them likewise, and poureth them 
 upon his people, out of parliament ; and so no doubt 
 the subject may give to the king in parliament, and 
 out of parliament. It is true the parliament is 
 intercursus magnus, the great intercourse and main 
 current of graces and donatives from the king to the 
 people, from the people to the king : but parliaments 
 are held but at certain times ; whereas the passages 
 are always open for particulars ; even as you see 
 great rivers have their tides, but particular springs 
 and fountains run continually." 1 
 
 This was in the teeth of his recent private state- 
 ment to the monarch, that parliament was "the 
 ancient and honourable remedy." This was to set 
 at nought all that legislative power of the Commons 
 over a domain which their forefathers had acquired at 
 the expense of so many struggles and such bloodshed ; 
 
 l Works, iv. p. 430. 
 
BACON ATTORNEY- GENERAL. 153 
 
 for it recognised not so much the right of the sub- 
 ject to make free-will offerings to his sovereign, as 
 the right of the latter to act upon his own individual 
 judgment, and to strive to contravene the voice of 
 the nation. It was the first fatal step that Bacon 
 took, whereby he insulated one of the three estates, 
 which seduced him into the idea of the king's irre- 
 sponsibility to the laws ; which brought him to lend 
 a hand to the wanton monopolies of the favourite ; 
 which forfeited the affections of his country both for 
 his master and himself; and at last, in his hour 
 of peril, left him only an enervated sceptre for his 
 protection. 
 
 Although the consequences of this principle of the 
 king's irresponsibility were ruinous, this application 
 of it, in so far as it advocated free-will offerings 
 only, might have been comparatively venial. But 
 it naturally introduced a measure most flagrantly 
 illegal. Bacon gave his counsel for the raising of 
 "benevolences." The spontaneous offering of the 
 subject was insufficient, and a general contribution 
 was required, which, though it bore a more kindly 
 title, was, in fact, .a tax without the option of the 
 payer. As he states in his history of king Henry 
 vn : " This tax, called a benevolence, was devised 
 by Edward rv, for which he sustained much envy. 
 It was abolished by Eichard in. by act of parliament, 
 to ingratiate himself with the people; and it was 
 now [in a national emergency in the reign of 
 Henry vn] revived by the king, but with consent of 
 
154 BACON ATTOENEY-GENEEAL. 
 
 parliament; for so it was not in the time of king 
 Edward rv." 1 Now, however, no such consent was 
 even asked. The machinery of a despot was set to 
 work, and the sheriffs of the counties were commanded 
 to make a compulsory solicitation. It soon brought 
 its evils. 
 
 The most violent excitement burst forth immedi- 
 ately upon the proclamation of the " benevolences," 
 a feeling which, if king James and Charles had 
 not been infatuated, would have been a beacon of 
 safety. It was nothing in its favour, that several 
 members of the parliament had been committed for 
 having spoken freely of the measures of the 
 monarch. Men felt it to be the insult of hypo- 
 crisy, that that should be called a free gift, which 
 was to be surrendered against their wills ; enforced, 
 as it was, by an ordinance, that they who declined 
 to give their money, should give in their names. 
 Most were frightened into acquiescence; but some 
 bolder spirits, the van of the army of which Hamp- 
 den was the calm and conscientious leader, resolutely 
 refused. They argued that it was against law, for 
 it had been prohibited by divers acts of parliament, 
 a prohibition sanctioned by a civil curse ; against 
 eeason, for it brought the individual subject in 
 conflict with the wisdom of " the king assembled 
 in parliament, who had then denied any such aid;" 
 against eeligion, for it invited the people to sustain 
 the sovereign in his violation of that coronation oath 
 
 i Works, v. p. 81. 
 
BACOX ATTOENEY- GENERAL. 155 
 
 which pledged him to maintain the laws, the liberties, 
 and customs of the realm. 
 
 Of these latter, Mr. Oliver St. John, of Marl- 
 borough in Wiltshire, became the most obnoxious 
 to the government, and Bacon, as attorney-general, 
 conducted a prosecution against him for a libel. 
 The speech which he delivered on this occasion was 
 like all his other speeches, sagacious and eloquent. 
 Assuming that the sovereign deserved it, its eulogy 
 of his disposition and government is worthy of all 
 praise. But we are concerned with his argument 
 against Mr. St. John only. He strove to meet the 
 complaints of the malcontent with a flat denial. 
 He affirmed: " There was no proportion or rate set 
 down, not so much as by way of a wish; there 
 was no menace of any that should deny ; no reproof 
 of any that did deny ; no certifying of the names 
 of any that had denied. Indeed, if men could not 
 content themselves to deny, but that they must 
 censure and inveigh ; nor to accuse themselves, 
 but they must accuse the state; that is another 
 case. But I say, for denying, no man was appre- 
 hended, no, nor noted. So that I verily think, that 
 there is none so subtle a disputer in the controversy 
 of lilerum arlitrium [free-will], that can with all his 
 distinctions fasten or carp upon the act, but that 
 there was free-will in it." 1 
 
 This answer would have completely vindicated the 
 justice of the term " benevolences," and though it 
 
 1 Works, vol. iv. p. 432. 
 
156 BACON ATTORNEY-GENEKAL. 
 
 could not establish their legality, 1 it might have 
 palliated the crime of the government, had the 
 absence of threats meant anything but duplicity. 
 But Bacon knew that the monarch on whom he 
 had uttered such panegyrics for his constitutional 
 conduct, had told the Commons that he " com- 
 manded" as an "absolute" king; that he had 
 thrown several members of the Commons into 
 prison because they had withstood his wishes ; and 
 what private civilian could have been absurd enough 
 to expect impunity, simply because the sovereign 
 had been silent on the subject ? Bacon knew the 
 spirit of his master. He needed not his intimacy 
 with king James in order to be aware of his despotic 
 claims upon the property of his subjects. Even 
 Hume, the earnest advocate of the Stuarts, tells us 
 how universally it was understood: "When Waller 
 was young, he had the curiosity to go to court, and 
 he stood in the circle and saw James dine ; where, 
 among other company, there sat at table two bishops, 
 Heile and Andrews. The king proposed aloud the 
 question, ' Whether he might not take his subjects* 
 money when he needed it, without all this formality 
 of parliament?' Neile replied, 'God forbid you 
 should not, for you are the breath of our nostrils.' 
 Andrews declined answering, and said he was not 
 skilled in parliamentary cases ; but upon the king's 
 urging him, and saying he would admit of no evasion, 
 
 1 Lord Campbell remarks : "There could not be a doubt that raising 
 "benevolences" was, in substance, levying an aid without authority of 
 parliament." Lives, iii. p. 343. 
 
BACON ATTOKXEY-GESEBAL. 157 
 
 the bishop replied pleasantly, 'Why then, I think 
 your majesty may lawfully take my brother Heile's 
 money, for he offers it.' " 1 
 
 There can be but little question that Bacon was 
 betrayed into a surrender of this palladium of English 
 liberty, from his eager desire still further to ingratiate 
 himself with king James. In his importunities for 
 preferment he had pledged himself to rescue the 
 crown from its money difficulties. The House of 
 Commons, over which he thought his influence was 
 irresistible, had disappointed him ; and, whether 
 consciously or no, he acquiesced in, and advocated a 
 measure which, if it had been admitted, would have 
 bound every tongue, desecrated the privacy of every 
 hearth-stone, and sacrificed the personal liberty of 
 every Briton. 
 
 We must adduce some other proofs of his desire to 
 replenish the exchequer, an exchequer which had 
 been exhausted by the sovereign's reckless largesses 
 to favourites : — 
 
 " Every man makes me believe that I was never one hour 
 out of credit with the lower house : my desire is to know, whether 
 your majesty will give me leave to meditate and propound unto 
 you some preparative remembrances touching the future parlia- 
 ment.' ' 2 
 
 "I have not been unprofitable in helping to discover and 
 examine, within these few days, a late patent, by surreption 
 obtained from your majesty, of the greatest forest in England, 
 worth £30,000, under colour of a defective title for a matter of 
 £400. The person must be named, because the patent must be 
 
 1 Hume, vi. p. 66. 2 Works, vi. p. 53. 
 
158 BACON ATTOKNEY-GENEEAL. 
 
 i 
 
 questioned. It is a great person, my lord of Shrewsbury; or 
 rather, as I think, a greater than he, which is my lady of 
 Shrewsbury." l 
 
 "I do now only send your majesty these papers inclosed, 
 because I do greatly desire so far forth to preserve my credit 
 with you, as thus, that whereas lately, perhaps out of too much 
 desire, which induceth too much belief, I was bold to say, that 
 I thought it as easy for your majesty to come out of want as to 
 go forth out of your gallery ; your majesty would not take me 
 for a dreamer or a projector; I send your majesty, therefore, 
 some grounds of my hopes/' 2 
 
 We give these extracts, not so much for the purpose 
 of exposing the pliability with which Bacon lent 
 himself to the most ex-official acts in order to please 
 king James, as to show the dilemma in which he 
 had placed himself; and thence to account for the 
 gross inconsistency — nay, sycophancy — of which we 
 have recently given proof. 
 
 Although it is so threadbare a quotation, we cannot 
 
 withhold it : — 
 
 " Facilis descensus Averni 
 Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis : 
 Sed revocare gradum. superasque evadere ad auras, 
 Hoc opus, hie labor est." 3 
 
 "We have now to proceed to a still more painful 
 dereliction of duty: it trenched upon both his 
 humanity and his law. 
 
 There lived in Somersetshire an aged clergyman, 
 
 l Works, v. p. 347. 2 r^id, p. 360. 
 
 3 " The gates of hell are open night and day ; 
 Smooth the descent, and easy is the way : 
 But, to return and view the cheerful skies, 
 In this the task and mighty labour lies."— J>ryden. 
 
BACON ATTOBKEY-GENEEAL. 159 
 
 of the name of Peacham, whose earnest sympathies 
 with his defrauded or imprisoned countrymen became 
 known. On a sudden his study was invaded by 
 government officials, and a sermon — never preached ? 
 never intended to be preached — was seized upon. 
 It was found to contain sentences which, no one can 
 deny, were treasonable to the most aggravated extent. 
 These sentences adverted to the sale of the crown 
 lands, the deceit of the king's officers, the greatness 
 of the king's gifts, his keeping divided courts. Some 
 of them were full of impassioned fervour, dwelling on 
 the possibility of the king's sudden death, or within 
 eight days, as Ananias or JSabal ; of an insurrection 
 of the people against the king for taxes and oppres- 
 sions; of bloodshed for the recovery of the crown- 
 lands, and the destruction of the heir- apparent (this 
 is the heir, let us kill him) ; of a massacre of the 
 king's officers upon duty. Waiving all considerations 
 as to the mode in which this sermon was obtained, 
 and the intention with which it was prepared, we 
 must admit that it deserved a severe impeachment 
 for several of the above articles. Bacon conducted 
 that impeachment ; but before the trial he instituted 
 a series of questionings, in order to ascertain if the 
 prisoner knew of a conspiracy. "We blush to have to 
 add, that he who was so great in his superiority 
 above ancient precedents ; he who so well knew and 
 so profoundly advocated the principles of moral 
 investigation; he who was so distinguished for 
 amenity, allowed himself to become a prime mover 
 
160 BACON ATTORNEY-GENERAL. 
 
 in the following : " Upon these interrogatories 
 Peacham was examined before torture, in torture, 
 between torture, and after torture ; notwithstanding 
 nothing could be drawn from him, he still persisting 
 in his obstinate and insensible denials and former 
 answers." 1 Bacon was present whilst this hoary- 
 headed clergyman, nearly seventy years of age, was 
 rent upon the rack. In some former age this might 
 not have been wondered at ; it is true that, even in 
 the time of queen Elizabeth, this atrocious system of 
 inquiry had been resorted to; Bacon himself had had 
 to employ his wit in order to save Haywarde from 
 its horrors: "Nay, madam," he said, "he is a 
 doctor; never rack his person, but rack his style." 2 
 But he knew that it was a crime against the English 
 constitution. So well established was this, that only 
 thirteen years afterward, and without the interven- 
 tion of any statute, when Charles i. wished to inflict 
 it upon the murderer of Buckingham, "the judges 
 declared that though that practice had formerly been 
 very usual, it was altogether illegal." 3 And even if 
 it had been otherwise, unusual as it was ; contrary 
 as it was to all the habits of the country ; dispensable 
 as it was ; why did not Bacon's humanity utter a 
 firm protest ? Why was there so terrible a contra- 
 diction between his scorn for the intellectual thumb- 
 screws of the past, and his tolerance of physical 
 barbarity? Montesquieu could say of the torture, 
 though he lived in a land where it was in fashion: 
 
 » Works, v. p. 337. 2 Hume, v. p. 403. 3 ibid, vi. p. 230. 
 
BACON ATTOEXEY-GENEBAL. 161 
 
 "Nous voyons aujourdhui une nation tres-bien 
 policee la rejeter sans inconvenient. Elle n'est done 
 pas necessaire par sa nature. Tant d'habiles gens et 
 tant de beaux genies ont ecrit contre cette pratique, 
 que je n'ose parler apres eux. J'allais dire qu'elle 
 pourrait convenir dans les gouvernemens despotiques, 
 oti tout ce qui inspire la crainte, entre plus dans les 
 ressorts du gouvernement : j'allais dire que les 
 
 esclaves chez les Grecs et chez les Eomains 
 
 Mais fentends la voix de la nature qui crie contre 
 moi." 1 
 
 The fact is, Bacon would have lost ground in king 
 James's favour, if he had opposed his truculent and 
 despotic spirit. Alas ! that he could write as 
 follows : — 
 
 "It may please your excellent majesty, 
 
 11 It grieveth me exceedingly, that your majesty 
 should be so much troubled with this matter of Peacham, whose 
 raging devil seemeth to be turned into a dumb devil. But al- 
 though we are driven to make our way through questions which 
 I wish were otherwise, yet I hope well the end will be good. 
 But then every man must put his helping hand; for else I must 
 say to your majesty in this and the like cases, as St. Paul said 
 to the centurion when some of the mariners had an eye to the 
 cock-boat, ' Except these stay in the ship ye cannot be safe.' I 
 
 1 Montesquieu, lib. vi. chap, xvii : "In our otto day we see an 
 admirably governed nation reject it, and -without inconvenience. It is 
 not, then, naturally necessary. So many skilful men, so many men of 
 fine genius, have written in protest against this practice, that I dare not 
 speak after them. I was going to say, that it may suit despotic govern- 
 ments, where everything that inspires terror more especially enters 
 into the springs of government : I was going to say that the slaves 
 
 among the Greeks and among the Romans But I hear the 
 
 voice of nature cry out against me." 
 
162 BACON ATTORNEY-GENEEAL. 
 
 find in my lords great and worthy care of the business ; and 
 for my part, I hold my opinion, and am strengthened in 
 it by some records that I have found. God preserve your 
 majesty ! " 1 
 
 Does not this letter betray that Eacon felt a per- 
 sonal revulsion at the infliction of torture, of which 
 process he says, " I wish it were otherwise ? " Does 
 not this expression, together with that in which he 
 craved " a helping hand," suggest that he was 
 acting under a higher authority, which, meanwhile, 
 kept itself in secret ? Does not his allusion to the 
 necessity of the more open cooperation of that higher 
 authority, convey his fears that his own conduct was 
 so perilous as to want protection ? When he refers to 
 " the lords," the judges, may we not suspect that he 
 has been aiming to prejudice their opinions ? And is 
 not his eager research of the records a symptom of 
 uncertainty as to the lawfulness of his proceedings 
 with the prisoner ? proceedings, from the monstrous 
 cruelty of which his uncertainty had not made him 
 hesitate ? 
 
 The above letter was written on the twenty-first 
 of January. The poor, dislocated, but stout-hearted 
 old man would commit no one. The bishop of Eath 
 and "Wells, his own diocesan, had, in vain, employed 
 all his ecclesiastical influence upon the moaning 
 sufferer. Again Eacon writes to his majesty : — 
 
 " I hold it fit that myself and my fellows go to the Tower, 
 and so I purpose to examine him upon these points, and some 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 338. 
 
EAC0N ATTOPcXEY-GEXERAL. 163 
 
 others ; at the least, that the world may take notice that the 
 business is followed as heretofore, and that the stay of the 
 trial is, upon further discovery, according to that we give out. 
 
 " I think also it were not amiss to make a false fire, as if 
 all things were ready for his going down to his trial, and that 
 he were upon the very point of being carried down, to see what 
 that will work with him, 
 
 "Lastly, I do think it most necessary, and a point prin- 
 cipally to be regarded, that because we live in an age wherein 
 no counsel is kept, and that it is true there is some bruit 
 abroad, that the judges of the King's Bench do doubt of the 
 case, that it should not be treason ; that it be given out con- 
 stantly, and yet as it were a secret, and so a fame to slide, that 
 the doubt was only upon the publication, in that it was never 
 published, for that (if your majesty marketh it) taketh away, 
 or at least qualifies, the danger of the example, for that will be 
 no man's case." . . . . l 
 
 We cannot admit the surmise of Lord Campbell, 
 that Bacon's proposal of a " false fire " was that of 
 another mode of physical torture. It seems plain to 
 us that he intended a fictitious flight. But the 
 entire of these extracts affiicts us deeply. It so 
 evidently reveals a wish to coin evidence by every 
 species of compulsion ; and the last paragraph shows 
 us a sad tissue of chicanery and artifice, in order to 
 efface the impression which had been produced by the 
 discountenance of the judges, sycophantic though 
 they then generally were. 
 
 Moreover, he plied every art by which to obtain 
 the cooperation of those judges. He thus writes to 
 the king : — 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 354. 
 
164 BACON ATTOBXEY- GENERAL. 
 
 "For the course your majesty directeth and commandeth 
 for the feeling of the judges of the King's Bench, their several 
 opinions, by distributing ourselves and enjoining secresy ; we 
 did first find an encounter in the opinion of my lord Coke, who 
 seemeth to affirm that such particular, and, as he called it, 
 auricular taking of opinions, was not according to the custom of 
 this realm ; and seemed to divine that his brethren would never 
 do it. But when I replied that it was our duty to pursue his 
 majesty's directions, and it were not amiss for his lordship to 
 leave his brethren to their own answers ; it was so concluded. 
 
 This done, I took my fellows aside, and advised that 
 
 they should presently speak with the three judges, before I 
 could speak with my lord Coke, for doubt of infusion : and that 
 they should not in any case make any doubt to the judges, as 
 if they mistrusted they would not deliver any opinion apart, but 
 speak resolutely to them, and only make their coming to be to 
 know what time they would appoint to be attended with the 
 papers." . . . . ' 
 
 "Was there ever greater legal knavery in order to 
 secure a point ? Be it recorded, to the high honour 
 of some of the judges who sat upon Peacham's trial, 
 that they demurred to the verdict of treason; and 
 thus saved the lacerated old clergyman from being 
 executed, although he was condemned. He defended 
 himself "very simply, though obstinately and dog- 
 gedly enough." He died about seven months after, 
 in the jail at Taunton. 
 
 We must conclude this portion of Bacon's attorney- 
 generalship with one more trial, in which he appeared 
 to great advantage. That trial arose from a duel 
 between two gentlemen of the names of Priest and 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 339. 
 
BACON ATTOEXEY-GEXEEAX. 165 
 
 'Wright. The entire of Bacon's speech upon this 
 occasion is a courageous protest against duelling; 
 and he argues that it is a custom which no govern- 
 ment can tolerate, but at the expense of its own 
 reputation for the due administration of justice; 
 which no man who is loyal ought ever to sanction, 
 since it virtually charges the crown with an inability 
 to redress; above all, which no man who admits 
 the obligations and responsibilities of religion ought 
 ever to observe, for its motives are inevitably anti- 
 christian, and its consequences infinitely perilous. 
 
 We will quote but one passage from this speech, 
 and that chiefly because it bears most upon those 
 who, even in our own day, are especially open to the 
 temptation it would obviate : — 
 
 " It is a miserable effect, when young men full of towardness 
 and hope, such as the poets call aurora filii, sons of the morn- 
 ing, in whom the expectation and comfort of their friends 
 consisteth, shall be cast away and destroyed in such a vain 
 manner ; but much more it is to be deplored when so much 
 noble and genteel blood should be spilt upon such follies, as, if 
 it were adventured in the field in the service of the king and 
 realm, were able to make the fortune of a day, and to change 
 the fortune of a kingdom. So, as your Lordship sees, what a 
 desperate evil this is ; it troubleth peace ; it disfurnisheth war ; 
 it bringeth calamity upon private men ; peril upon the state, 
 and contempt upon the law." 1 
 
 i Works, iv. p. 401. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 BACON AND THE EAEL OF SOMEESET. 
 
 Hitheeto we have not spoken of king James's passion 
 for favourites. It is now time, however, to advert to 
 it, and to some of its details, especially as it began at 
 this period to affect the movements and fortune of 
 Sir Francis. 
 
 It was one, perhaps the worst, of his majesty's 
 characteristics, that he yielded himself exclusively, 
 for the time being, to the governance of some young 
 man, who, however deficient in the influences of intel- 
 lect or rank, possessed personal accomplishments. 
 Even during his residence in Scotland he had 
 betrayed this weakness towards the person of Edward 
 Bruce, afterwards the lord of Kinlop. But it was 
 not until the year 1611, that he abandoned himself 
 to one sole favourite, Bobert Carr. We should content 
 ourselves with merely naming this wretched minion, 
 were it not that he must soon come before us in an 
 important portion of Bacon's attorney-generalship. 
 At the age of twenty, he arrived at the English court 
 
BACON AND SO]VrEESET. 167 
 
 from Scotland, of which he was a native. By the 
 intrigues of Lord Hay, who saw the fitness of his 
 person for captivating the affections of king James, 
 he was soon brought beneath the eye of the monarch, 
 when an accident at tilting, by which he broke his 
 leg in the king's presence, made him an object of 
 dangerous sympathy. The sovereign paid him frequent 
 visits during his sickness; and the youth's beauty, 
 arch simplicity, and tender years made a conquest. 
 He was singularly uneducated ; but this gave zest to 
 the partiality, for the royal pedant instantly resolved 
 on the experiment of training him himself. He 
 taught him the first rudiments of Latin, interspersed 
 his lessons with instructions upon affairs of state, 
 knighted him, then created him Yiscount Eochester, 
 then gave him the garter, made him one of the privy 
 council, raised him to the earldom of Somerset, com- 
 mitted to him the supreme direction of his personal 
 affairs, and, notwithstanding his distressed treasury, 
 lavished upon him enormous wealth. Happily for 
 England, her history presents no more flagrant case 
 of the weaknesses of the crown. 
 
 For many a day Carr bore these accumulated 
 honours with meekness, and, under the wise and 
 astute guidance of his friend, Sir Thomas Overbury, 
 behaved with prudence and discretion. At length the 
 toils of the Countess of Essex so ensnared him, 
 that to gratify her hate for Sir Thomas Overbury, 
 who had remonstrated against her influence and 
 her designs, he lent himself to her revenge, and his 
 
168 BACON AND SOMEESET. 
 
 friend was first imprisoned and then poisoned in tho 
 Tower. 
 
 The favourite's heart was not steeled against 
 remorse. His good looks, his once seductive plea- 
 santry, his easy activity forsook him, and with them 
 the ardent affection of king James. 
 
 It was while he was thus waning in the heart of 
 the monarch that his successor, George Villiers, rose. 
 He was his junior in years, his equal in form and 
 beauty, his superior in talent and accomplishment. 
 The transfer of the royal affections was as complete 
 as it was sudden. And from the first moment until 
 king James's death, Villiers retained his ascendancy, 
 nay more, exerted it, up to the moment of his own 
 assassination, over the unfortunate king Charles. He 
 rose, in rapid succession, to all the honours of the 
 peerage, first, as Viscount Villiers, then earl, then 
 marquis, and finally, Duke of Buckingham. He 
 was made knight of the garter, master of the horse, 
 chief justice in eyre, warden of the cinque ports, 
 master of the King's Bench office, steward of "West- 
 minster, constable of Windsor, and lord high admiral 
 of England. The king took no measures of state, 
 preferred to no office, civil or ecclesiastical, made no 
 family arrangements, without his privity and sanc- 
 tion, often solely at his wish. The whole policy of 
 the country, both foreign and domestic, was at his 
 bidding. And provided there were funds for the 
 lavish expenditure of the crown, it mattered not 
 what were the measures of extortion, or what share 
 
BACON A3D SOMEKSET. 169 
 
 the royal favourite monopolized. !N*o one could, 
 under any circumstances, justify a sovereign in thus 
 delegating an authority which he held only in trust 
 for his kingdom; but, in justice to the name of Buck- 
 ingham, it must be said, that he deserved such 
 confidence far more than Somerset. His ability for 
 government was far superior; and although his 
 name is infamous for infractions of the rights and 
 liberties of the subject, for which his avarice for 
 himself and his family was the prime motive; 
 although his unrighteous rule incurred the contempt 
 of foreign nations, and blasted the spirit of loyalty at 
 home, yet he stands unimpeached for such personal 
 criminality as that of his predecessor. But we have 
 said enough : and for the purposes of this memoir, 
 we have only to bear in mind, that he was the 
 sovereign de facto, and that, in reality, he was the 
 last appeal of the ambitious. 
 
 It is a redeeming fact in the character of Bacon 
 that he never sought advancement through the 
 influence of Somerset. It is true that he allied 
 himself to Buckingham the instant he saw his 
 triumph over king James's heart ; but the beginning 
 of that friendship, which continued almost uninter- 
 rupted to the last, was of the highest credit to both 
 the favourite and the aspiring statesman. Yilliers 
 was wise enough to feel, and ingenuous enough to 
 acknowledge, his own utter inexperience. He there- 
 fore took Sir Francis as his counsellor, and obtained 
 an elaborate paper of advice which, if it had been 
 
170 BACON AND SOMERSET. 
 
 observed, would have made him a blessing to his 
 country, would have saved himself from execration 
 and his monitor from ruin. The document remains 
 to us ; no ruler should be without it. It would be 
 easy to give an analysis of it, but a few extracts may 
 be better. 
 
 " It hath pleased the king to cast an extraordinary eye of 
 favour upon you ; and you express yourself very desirous to win 
 upon the judgment of your master, and not upon his affections 
 only. I do very much commend your nohle ambition herein ; 
 for favour so bottomed is like to be lasting ; whereas, if it be 
 built but upon the sandy foundation of personal respects only, it 
 
 cannot be long-lived 
 
 "You are as a new-risen star, and the eyes of all men are 
 upon you ; let not your own negligence make you fall like a 
 meteor. Remember well the great trust you have undertaken ; 
 you are as a continual sentinel, always to stand upon your 
 watch to give him [the king] true intelligence. If you flatter 
 him, you betray him ; if you conceal the truth of those things 
 from him which concern his justice or his honour, although not 
 the safety of his person, you are as dangerous a traitor to his 
 state, as he that riseth in arms against him. A false friend is 
 more dangerous than an open enemy ; kings are styled gods 
 upon earth, not absolute, but Dixi, dii estis ; and the next 
 words are, sed moriemini sicat homines ; they shall die like men, 
 and then all their thoughts perish. They cannot possibly see 
 all things with their own eyes, nor hear all things with their 
 own ears; they must commit many great trusts to their 
 ministers. Kings must be answerable to God Almighty, to 
 whom they are but vassals, for their actions, and for their 
 negligent omissions; but the ministers to kings, whose eyes, 
 ears, and hands they are, must be answerable to God and man 
 for the breach of their duties, in violation of their trusts, 
 whereby they betray them 
 
BACON AND SOMERSET. 171 
 
 11 In respect of the suitors which shall attend you, there is 
 nothing will hring you more honour and more ease, than to do 
 them what right in justice you may, and with as much speed as 
 you may : for, believe it, sir, next to the obtaining of the suit, 
 a speedy and gentle denial, when the case will not bear it, is 
 the most acceptable to suitors ; they will gain by their dispatch ; 
 whereas, else they shall spend their time and money in attending; 
 and you will gain, in the ease you will find in being rid of their 
 importunity. But if they obtain what they reasonably desired, 
 they will be doubly bound to you for your favour ; bis dot qui 
 cito dat [he gives twice who gives quickly] ; it multiplies the 
 courtesy to do it with good words and speedily 
 
 "1. In the first place, be you yourself rightly persuaded and 
 settled in the true Protestant religion, professed by the Church 
 of England ; which doubtless is as sound and orthodox thereof, 
 as any Christian church in the world 
 
 "Take heed, I beseech you, that you be not an instrument to 
 countenance the Roman Catholics. I cannot flatter, the world 
 believes that some near in blood to you are too much of that 
 persuasion ; you must use them with fit respects, according to 
 the bonds of nature ; but you are of kin, and so a friend to their 
 persons, not to their errors 
 
 "You will be often solicited, and perhaps importuned to 
 prefer scholars to church livings : you may further your friends 
 in that way, cceteris paribus ; otherwise, remember, I pray, that 
 these are not places merely of favour ; the charge of souls lies 
 upon them ; the greatest account whereof will be required at 
 their own hands ; but they will share deeply in their faults who 
 are the instruments of their preferment 
 
 " Order and decent ceremonies in the church are not only 
 comely but commendable ; but there must be great care not to 
 introduce innovations, they will quickly prove scandalous ; men 
 are naturally over-prone to suspicion; the true Protestant 
 religion is seated in the golden mean ; the enemies unto her are 
 the extremes on either hand 
 
172 BACON AND SOMERSET. 
 
 "2. As far as it may lie in you, let no arbitrary power be 
 intruded : the people of this kingdom love the laws thereof, and 
 nothing will oblige them more, than the confidence of the free 
 enjoying of them ; what the nobles upon an occasion once said 
 in parliament, Nolumus leges Anglice mutare [we do not wish to 
 change the laws of England], is imprinted in the hearts of all 
 the people 
 
 ' ' By no means be persuaded to interpose yourself, either by 
 word or letter, in any cause depending, or like to be depending 
 in any court of justice, nor suffer any other great man to do it 
 when you can hinder it, and by all means dissuade the king 
 himself from it, upon the importunity of any for themselves or 
 their friends ; if it should so prevail, it perverts justice ; but if 
 the judge be so just, and of such courage, as he ought to be, as 
 not to be inclined thereby, yet it always leaves a taint of 
 suspicion behind it; judges must be as chaste as Caesar's wife, 
 neither to be, nor to be suspected to be, unjust ; and, sir, the 
 honour of the judges in their judicature is the king's honour, 
 whose person they represent 
 
 " I have but one thing more to mind you of, which nearly 
 concerns yourself; you serve a great and gracious master, and 
 there is a most hopeful young prince, whom you must not 
 desert ; it behoves you to carry yourself wisely and evenly 
 between them both : adore not so the rising son, that you forget 
 the father, who raised you to this height ; nor be you so obse- 
 quious to the father, that you give just cause to the son to 
 suspect that you neglect him : but carry yourself with that 
 judgment as, if it be possible, may please and content them 
 both ; which truly, I believe, will be no hard matter for you to 
 do : so may you live long beloved of both." x 
 
 In addition to the piety, the patriotism, and the 
 legal equity of these counsels, we cannot overlook 
 the fact, that, in the neglect of them in particular, 
 
 l Works, iii. p. 429, &c. 
 
BACON AND SOJIEBSET. 173 
 
 most of the errors of Buckingham originated ; from 
 the neglect of some of them, especially of that 
 concerning the independence and purity of the 
 judicial bench, arose the future ruin of Lord Bacon. 
 In his writings he adverts, with singular frequency, 
 to his own fitness for " contemplation," rather than 
 for " active" life; and it was his sorrow to feel the 
 effects of divorcing theory from practice. 
 
 It was soon after the formation of this friendship, 
 that Bacon's official duties called him to the prose- 
 cution of the former favourite for murder. "We 
 have already adverted to the crime in which the 
 Earl of Somerset and his Countess were implicated ; 
 but some further particulars must be mentioned, 
 in order to account for the proceedings of Sir 
 Francis. 
 
 As to the crime itself, and the manner in which 
 these guilty parties became accused, it will be enough 
 to say, that upon the trial of Weston, the more 
 immediate poisoner of Sir Thomas Overbury, sundry 
 suspicious circumstances came to light against the 
 Earl and his Countess. These were aggravated 
 through the injudicious activity of friends in their 
 attempts to falsify them. The king was greatly 
 agitated, and reasonably, both at the position of 
 one who had so deeply interested his affections, and 
 obtained his unreserved confidence, and also at the 
 jealousy with which his subjects would now scan 
 his administration of justice. The public voice 
 demanded impeachment, and obtained it. The 
 
174 BACON AND SOMERSET. 
 
 Countess confessed her crime, but the Earl provoked 
 his trial, and was found guilty by his peers. They 
 were condemned to death, but the king commuted 
 their sentence into imprisonment in the Tower. 
 
 History records but few more appalling instances 
 of the self-retribution of evil. It tells nothing of 
 the years of shame and remorse which this miserable 
 pair passed in their dark and solitary confinement : 
 the dungeons only could present the contrast to their 
 former hours, when the one, peerless in her beauty, 
 and commanding in her disposition and resources, 
 was the idol of the admiration of the court ; and the 
 other, with boundless influence over the heart of 
 his sovereign, and flushed with wealth and honours, 
 joyously ruled the nation. But history does tell 
 us of still bitterer moments than these cells had 
 witnessed. Some seven years expired, and they 
 regained their liberty; but the love which had 
 maddened them into crime was gone ; in their stead 
 there came the most deadly hatred, and ten wretched 
 years were passed in the same house, the whole 
 world deserting them, and they deserting and 
 cursing one another. Their own wickedness chas- 
 tised them. 
 
 It would be superfluous for us to enter with any 
 minuteness into the trial, in which Sir Erancis Bacon, 
 as attorney-general, bore so prominent a part. The 
 point to which, in fidelity to truth, we must refer 
 is, the manner in which he directed the management 
 of the accused Earl. The king was suffering extreme 
 
BACON AND SOMERSET. 175 
 
 uneasiness, and whatever were the particulars, it 
 arose, there can be no doubt, from the fear lest 
 Somerset, in the rage of desperation, should betray 
 the confidence with which his majesty had honoured 
 him. Witness the paper which Bacon wrote : — 
 
 "a f articular, remembrance for his majesty. 
 
 a It were good, that after he is come into the hall, so that 
 lie perceives he must go to trial, and shall be retired into the 
 place appointed till the court call for him, then the lieutenant 
 should tell him roundly, that if in his speeches he shall tax the 
 king, the justice of England is, that he shall be taken away, 
 and the evidence shall go on without him; and then air 
 the people will cry, away with him ; and then it shall not be in 
 the king's will to save his life, the people will be so set on fire." l 
 
 But to anticipate this contingency, the king 
 anxiously suggested that, before the trial, hopes of 
 escape should be held out to Somerset, provided his 
 conduct was discreet. To this Eacon replies in a 
 letter to Sir George Yilliers : — 
 
 " That same little charm, which may be secretly infused 
 into Somerset's ear some few hours before his trial, was ex- 
 cellently well thought of by his majesty; and I do approve it 
 both for matter and time ; only, if it seem good to his majesty, 
 I would wish it a little enlarged ; for if it be no more than to 
 spare his blood, he hath a kind of proud humour which may 
 overwork the medicine. Therefore I could wish it were made 
 a little stronger, by giving him some hopes that his majesty 
 will be good to his lady and child ; and that time, when justice 
 and his majesty's honour is once saved and satisfied, may produce 
 further fruit of his majesty's compassion." 2 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 96. « Ibid. v. p. 398. 
 
176 BACON AND SOMERSET. 
 
 It would really seem that such an extent of impu- 
 nity appeared too great even to the king, intensely 
 anxious as he was to secure Somerset's silence. 
 Bacon, however, felt convinced that only such hopes 
 could obtain it ; and would merely modify his pro- 
 posal with a contrivance by which James might first 
 encourage and then deceive them. Thus he again 
 wrote to Sir George Villiers : — 
 
 " I am far enough from opinion, that the redintegration or 
 resuscitation of Somerset's fortune can ever stand with his 
 majesty's honour and safety; and therein I think I expressed 
 myself fully to his majesty in one of my former letters; and I 
 know well, any expectation or thought abroad will do much 
 hurt. But yet the glimmering of that which the king hath 
 done to others, by way of talk to him, cannot hurt, as I conceive ; 
 but I would not have that part of the message as from the king, 
 but added by the messenger as from himself. This I remit to 
 his majesty's princely judgment." l 
 
 This surely was the proposal of a most cruel arti- 
 fice — a master-piece of deception. 
 
 Provision, however, was to be made against all 
 possible contingencies ; and Bacon, with a providence 
 worthy of a better cause, submitted to the attention 
 of his majesty four of them. But first he says : 
 "I cannot forget what the poet Martial saith: '0 
 quantum est subitis casibus ingenium ! ' signifying, 
 that accident is many times more subtle than fore- 
 sight, and overreacheth expectation ; and besides, I 
 know very well the meanness of my own judgment, 
 in comprehending or casting what may follow." He 
 
 l Works, v. p. 460. 
 
BACON AND SOMERSET. 177 
 
 assumes, either that the criminals will make " such a 
 submission or deprecation, as they prostrate them- 
 selves and all that they have at his majesty's feet, 
 imploring his mercy; or, which he thinks most 
 likely, that the Countess will confess, and that Somer- 
 set himself will plead not guilty, and be found guilty; 
 or, that he will stand mute and will not plead ; or, 
 that the peers will acquit him, and find him not 
 guilty. For each of these possibilities, Bacon pro- 
 vides advice to his sovereign. "We need notice the 
 second and last only. For the second, namely, that 
 Somerset might plead not guilty, and be found 
 guilty, he promises : "It shall be my care so tG 
 moderate the manner of charging him, as it might 
 make him not odious beyond the extent of mercy. " 
 Eor the last, namely, that he might be acquitted by his 
 peers, he prepares a more elaborate precaution. Such 
 was the king's dread of Somerset's divulging the 
 secrets to which he bad been privy, that under no 
 circumstances was he to be allowed to go at large. 
 Bacon thus anticipates and meets the danger : — 
 
 " In this case, the lord steward must be provided what to 
 do. For as it hath been never seen, as I conceive it, that there 
 should be any rejecting of the verdict, or any respiting of the 
 judgment of the acquittal; so, on the other side, this case 
 requireth that because there be many high and heinous offences, 
 though not capital, for which he may be questioned in the star- 
 chamber, or otherwise, there be some touch of that in general 
 at the conclusion by my lord steward of England ; and that 
 therefore he be remanded to the Tower as close prisoner." x 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 397. 
 M 
 
178 BACON AND S0MEKSET. 
 
 We have thus endeavoured to give those parti- 
 culars which distinguish the position and spirit of 
 Sir Francis Bacon throughout this tragedy. And it 
 must be admitted that he lost sight of the simplicity 
 of justice; that his supreme object was to meet and 
 defeat the king's personal terror ; and that to succeed 
 therein he not only availed himself of all the intri- 
 cacies and provisions of the law, but definitely urged 
 his majesty to employ means for silencing Somerset, 
 which, as soon as he had gained his end, he might 
 safely falsify. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 SIR FEANCIS BACON OBTAINS THE GEEAT SEAL. 
 
 In the latter portion of the preceding chapter, we 
 found Sir Francis Bacon subordinating the power of 
 his high office as attorney-general, to the individual 
 anxieties of the king, ~We would fain believe that 
 this arose from a perversion of loyal feeling ; but he 
 was, meanwhile, pursuing another and purely per- 
 sonal object. jSo love of charity, no reverence for 
 his intellectual name, must blind us to the fact that, 
 whilst he was every day laying his sovereign under 
 the most humiliating obligations, he was, almost as 
 often, urging his suit for the highest preferment in 
 the law. Some months before he had incidentally, 
 as it were, referred the king's notice to the illness of 
 Egerton, the lord chancellor. At length, and while 
 his majesty was in the most pitiable affright, he 
 thus addresses him : — 
 
 " It may please your most excellent majesty, 
 
 " Your worthy chancellor, I fear,, goeth his last 
 day. God hath hitherto used to weed out such servants as grew 
 not fit for your majesty ; but now he hath gathered to himself one 
 of the choicer plants, a true sage, or salvia, out of your garden ; 
 but your majesty's service must not be mortal. 
 
180 BACON LOED CHANCELLOR. 
 
 "Upon this heavy accident I pray your majesty, in ail 
 humbleness and sincerity, to give me leave to use a few words. 
 I must never forget, when I moved your majesty for the 
 attorney's place, that it was your own sole act, and not my lord 
 of Somerset's ; who when he knew your majesty had resolved 
 it, thrust himself into the business to gain thanks ; and there- 
 fore I have no reason to pray to saints. 
 
 " I shall now again make oblation to your majesty, first of 
 my heart ; then of my service ; thirdly, of my place of attorney, 
 which I think is honestly worth £6000 per annum; and 
 fourthly, of my place in the star-chamber, which is worth 
 £1600 per annum; and with the favour and countenance of a 
 chancellor, much more. I hope I may be acquitted of presump- 
 tion if I think it, both because my father had the place, which 
 is some civil inducement to my desire, and I pray God your 
 majesty may have no worse twenty years in your greatness, than 
 queen Elizabeth had in her model, after my father's placing ; and 
 chiefly because the chancellor's place, after it went to the law, 
 was ever conferred upon some of the learned counsel, and never 
 
 upon a judge Now I beseech your majesty, let me 
 
 put the present case truly. If you take my lord Coke, this will 
 follow ; first, your majesty shall put an overruling nature into 
 an overruling place, which may breed an extreme ; next, you 
 shall blunt his industries in matter of your finances, which 
 seemeth to aim at another place ; and lastly, popular men are 
 
 no sure mounters for your majesty's saddle For 
 
 myself, I can only present your majesty with gloria in obsequio; l 
 yet I dare promise, that if I sit in that place, your business shall 
 not make such short turns upon you as it doth ; but when a 
 direction is once given, it shall be pursued and performed, and 
 your majesty shall not be troubled with the due care of a king, 
 which is, to think what you would have done in chief, and not 
 
 how for the passages 2 
 
 "Feb!/. 12, 1610." 
 
 1 The glory of a cheerful obedience. 2 Works, v. p. 372. 
 
BACON LOED CHAXCELLOB. 181 
 
 Our readers will feel amazement as they read this 
 letter; at its indelicacy, for the chancellor was not 
 dead, neither did he die of this sickness ; at the 
 bad taste of asking favours from his sovereign at 
 the moment he was himself actively and ultra- 
 officially conferring favours on that sovereign; at 
 his just then depreciating Lord Coke, his enemy, 
 but still his rival ; above all, at his unqualified 
 surrender of himself to the behests of his monarch, 
 as the condition of his bargain for the great seal. 
 In the end, he too faithfully redeemed his pledge. 
 
 Eut, as we have hinted, Lord Egerton recovered, 
 and Bacon had to inform the king : — 
 
 " I do find, God be thanked, a sensible amendment in my 
 lord chancellor : I was with him yesterday in private confer- 
 ence about half-an-hour ; and this day again, at such a time 
 as he did seal, which he endured well almost the space of an 
 hour, though the vapour of wax be offensive to him. He is 
 free from a fever, perfect in his powers of memory and speech : 
 and not hollow in his voice nor look ; he hath no panting or 
 labouring respiration ; neither are his coughs dry or weak. 
 But whoever thinketh his disease is but melancholy, he maketh 
 no true judgment of it; for it is plainly a formed and deep 
 cough, with a pectoral surcharge ; so that at times he doth 
 almost animam agere." 1 
 
 Knowing what we do of E aeon's ambition to 
 succeed Lord Egerton, the steps which he had taken 
 in a premature anticipation of his death, the alarm 
 he felt lest Lord Coke should outrun him, and the 
 serious extent to which he had committed himself 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 374 : " at times he is almost in the act of dying." 
 
182 BACON LOED CHANCELLOE. 
 
 by prospective pledges to the king; we need no 
 ordinary incredulity to think him disinterested, as 
 he thus watched the effect of the very vapour of the 
 wax upon the sufferer; felt his pulse; studied his 
 colour ; tested his mental powers ; listened to his 
 breathings and his cough; sounded the depths of 
 his voice and his look; and at last concluded that 
 there was a disease worse than a mere morbid 
 feeling, with all the symptoms of an incurable decay. 
 "With his mind thus bent upon obtaining the 
 great seal, it was his surest course to obtain the 
 influence of Sir George Villiers, already all-powerful 
 with the king. It would appear, however, that this 
 influence was volunteered, for we find the following 
 letter among the earliest of their correspondence. 
 It is indorsed " A letter to Sir Gr. Villiers, touching 
 a message brought to him by Mr. Shute, of a promise 
 of the chancellor's place ": — 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " The message which I received from you by 
 Mr. Shute hath bred in me such belief and confidence, as I 
 will now wholly rely upon your excellent and happy self. 
 When persons of greatness and quality begin speech with me 
 of the matter, and offer me their good offices, I can but answer 
 them civilly. But those things are but toys : I am yours surer 
 to you than to my own life ; for as they speak of the turquois 
 stone in a ring, I will break into twenty pieces before you 
 have the least fall. God keep you ever. 
 
 u Your truest servant, 
 
 "F R - Bacon. 
 " Feb. 15th, 1615. 
 
BACON LOED CHANCELLOE. 183 
 
 "My lord chancellor is prettily amended. I was with, 
 him yesterday almost half-an-hour. He used me with won- 
 derful tokens of kindness. "We both wept, which I do not 
 often." > 
 
 Through the active good offices of his friend, now 
 Viscount Villiers, the king offered Sir Francis the 
 option of either an immediate appointment as a privy 
 councillor, or the reversion of the great seal upon its 
 vacancy. There were important reasons of state 
 which made him choose the former; and he was 
 sworn accordingly, retaining his attorney-generalship, 
 but abandoning his private practice at the bar. Of 
 the latter, he writes to Lord Yilliers : "Let the 
 other matter rest upon my proof, and his majesty's 
 pleasure, and the accidents of time. 2 
 
 This union of the two offices was, to use his own 
 words, " more than was three hundred years before." 
 Notwithstanding his surrender of private practice, 
 his labours must have been incessant; yet we find 
 him, in a letter to his majesty, speaking of " a plen- 
 tiful accession of time," and proposing to undertake 
 the herculean task of "reducing and recompiling 
 the laws of England." 3 This, together with his 
 increased devotion to his philosophical works, again 
 reveals his marvellous activity. 
 
 It might have been expected that now, when his 
 present position was so honourable, when the ameni- 
 ties of science were so soothing, and when the future 
 course of his ambition up to the highest point was so 
 
 l Works, vi. p. 88. 2 i^id, v . p. 419. 3 Ibid, iv. p. 386. 
 
184 BACON LORD CHANCELLOR. 
 
 clear and so secured, he could have afforded to forgive. 
 But we lament to find that he did not. On several 
 occasions we have had, and shall again have, to speak 
 of the unrelenting hostility of Sir Edward Coke 
 towards him. However, although we must regard 
 the lord chief justice in this and many other exhibi- 
 tions of character, to have forsworn the humanities 
 of life, yet it must never be forgotten that " he was 
 the greatest master of common law that ever had 
 appeared in England;" that on the bench he was 
 never corrupted, either by his king or by the suitors 
 in his court, always severely vigilant of the preroga- 
 tives of both ; and that in the senate his courage in 
 defence of the subject never quailed before the frown, 
 never relaxed before the smile, of the sovereign. It 
 was about this time that his judicial integrity made 
 him most obnoxious both to James and to Lord 
 Yilliers. The one was enraged with him for his bold 
 assertion of the independence of the bench; the 
 other, for his resistance against encroachments upon 
 the patronage of his office. In the quarrel with his 
 majesty, Eacon, as was certain, espoused the side 
 of the sovereign, even though it went to make the 
 judges of the land the undeliberative machines of a 
 despot. In the quarrel with the favourite, Bacon's 
 choice was equally secure, if for no other reason, 
 for the disgust he felt towards Sir Edward Coke, and 
 the grateful affection which, we believe, he bore 
 towards Lord Villiers. 
 
 We need not give the particulars of these disputes. 
 
BACOX LOED CHANCELLOR. 185 
 
 Suffice it to say, that both king James and Lord 
 Villiers had their individual revenge to gratify. 
 But the question was — how to reach so elevated an 
 officer as the lord chief justice of all England. It 
 ■was true that, at that period, the judges were re- 
 moveable at the king's pleasure. But Coke, notwith- 
 standing his repulsiveness, was highly popular with 
 the bar and with the people. The bar nobly preferred 
 sound law with tyranny of temper, to an inadequate 
 or illegal judgment with blandness. The people 
 admired his jealousy of the rights of justice, although 
 his administration of those rights was unfeeling. In 
 those days of national disaffection, to crush such a 
 man, and on grounds for which his country prized 
 him, would have been infinitely perilous. The 
 astuteness of Bacon, sharpened by his own personal 
 antipathies against Coke, came to the rescue. 
 
 Our task is a most ungrateful one, but we must 
 perform it, and record the means which he adopted, 
 and their issue. The lord chief justice had been the 
 author of law reports upon some five hundred 
 decided cases. After his scrutiny of them for the 
 occasion, Bacon urged and sustained "the frivolous, 
 unfounded, preposterous charge, that Coke had in- 
 troduced several things in derogation of the royal 
 prerogative." 1 The memory of Sir Francis seems to 
 have forgotten the fact that he himself had delibe- 
 rately written of these very volumes : " To give every 
 man his due, had it not been for Sir Edward Coke's 
 
 1 Campbell, ii. p. 357. 
 
186 BACON LOBD CHANCELLOB. 
 
 reports, which though they may have errors, and 
 some peremptory and extra-judicial resolutions more 
 than are warranted, yet they contain infinite good 
 decisions and rulings over cases, the law by this time 
 had been almost like a ship without ballast." 1 
 
 The paper which he drew up for the king's 
 guidance, in his speech to his privy council in allega- 
 tion against the lord chief justice, is full of the 
 bitterest invective. For example : his majesty was 
 to say " that he had noted in him a perpetual turbu- 
 lent carriage, first towards the liberties of his church 
 and estate ecclesiastical; towards his prerogative 
 royal, and the branches thereof; and likewise 
 towards all the settled jurisdictions of all his other 
 courts, the high commission, the star-chamber, the 
 chancery, the provincial councils, the admiralty, the 
 duchy, the court of requests, the commission of 
 inquiries, the new boroughs of Ireland; in all 
 which he had raised troubles and new questions; 
 and lastly, in that which might concern the safety of 
 his royal person, by his exposition of the laws in 
 cases of high treason." 2 
 
 Triumphant though he was, we envy not Bacon's 
 feelings when, as he sat at the council table, he 
 watched the countenance of the foe that had coarsely, 
 publicly insulted him, and had been the obstacle of 
 his ambition from his early manhood, as it was 
 signified to Coke that he should " forbear his sitting 
 at "Westminster, &c, not restraining nevertheless 
 
 i Works, iv. p. 367. s Works, vi. p. 128. 
 
BACON LOED CHAXCELLOB. 187 
 
 any other exercise of his place of chief justice in 
 private." We envy him not when, on the thirteenth 
 of November, he sat down to write : "1 send yonr 
 majesty a form of discharge for my Lord Coke from 
 his place of chief justice of yonr bench." 1 Above 
 all, we envy him not as he trampled on his prostrate 
 enemy. He penned a letter, of which Lord Campbell 
 has high warrant for saying: ""In no composition 
 that I have met with is there a greater display of 
 vengeful malignity. Under pretence of acting a 
 Christian part, he pours the oil of vitriol into the 
 wounds he had inflicted." 2 This is mournfully true. 
 And if anything could make the deed worse, it was a 
 feeling which we will not name, with which he 
 says : "I must intreat liberty to be plain, a liberty 
 that at this time I know not whether or no I may 
 use safely; / am sure at other times I could not" z 
 
 Bacon's provocations had been great and long con- 
 tinuous. Though his moral susceptibilities were 
 slight, those of his intellect were of the keenest ; 
 and Coke had, in innumerable instances, presumptu- 
 ously and grossly outraged them. Nevertheless, 
 even when he failed in Christian principle, he should 
 have remembered his own words to Lord Sanquhar : 
 "Your temptation was revenge, which the more 
 natural it is to man, the more have laws both divine 
 and human sought to repress it; ' Mihi vindicta, 9 
 [Vengeance is mine.] But in one thing you and 
 I shall never agree, that generous spirits, you say, 
 
 * Works, vi. p. 131. 2 Campbell, ii. p. SCO. 3 Works, v. p. 40-1. 
 
188 EACON LOUD CHA1TCELLOE. 
 
 are hard to forgive : no, contrariwise, generous and 
 magnanimous minds are readiest to forgive ; and it is 
 a weakness and impotency of mind to be unable to 
 forgive ; 
 
 Corpora magnanimo satis est prostrasse leoni." l 
 
 From his insinuations against the memory of Sir 
 Eobert Cecil, and this his conduct towards Lord 
 Coke, we suspect that he had not this nobility of 
 disposition. And yet we must not charge his 
 language with hypocrisy: "If any have been my 
 enemies, I thought not of them ; neither hath the 
 sun almost set upon my displeasure; but I have 
 been as a dove, free from superfluity of malicious- 
 ness.' ' For there are some minds, and we believe 
 Bacon's to have been one of them, in whom the 
 spirit of revenge slumbers in unconsciousness until 
 some sudden and unsought-for facility presents itself; 
 whilst there are other minds in whom its ranklings 
 are ever restless for satisfaction. "Which of the two, 
 as far as civil life is concerned, be the preferable, it 
 is not our province to endeavour to determine ; but 
 that both are as unwise as they are unchristian is 
 certain : " Love ye your enemies, and do good .... 
 and your reward shall be great, and ye shall be the 
 children of the highest : for he is kind unto the 
 unthankful and the evil." What would not have 
 been Lord Bacon's moral support when Sir Edward 
 Coke subsequently presented the fatal indictment 
 
 1 Works, iv. p. 396 : " The generous lion is content with having 
 prostrated his foes." 
 
baco:n t loed chancelloe. 189 
 
 against him, if he could have recalled the time when 
 he had " overcome evil with good !" 
 
 But at this moment he had scarcely time for 
 listening to the prospective warnings of conscience. 
 His honours now fell thick upon him. The Prince 
 Charles appointed him chancellor of the duchy of 
 Cornwall, and he had scarcely assumed his robes 
 when the great seal was sent him. On the seventh of 
 March, 1617, Lord Egerton resigned, and Bacon was 
 immediately appointed his successor. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LORD BACOtf FEOM HIS APPOINTMENT AS CHANCELLOli 
 TILL HIS FALL. 
 
 Gist the evidence of former chapters it must be 
 admitted, that Lord Bacon's ambition in his civil 
 life was always coordinate with, if not above, his 
 ambition in his life philosophical. The very frequency 
 with which he says, "the depth of the three long 
 vacations I would reserve, in some measure, free from 
 business of state, and for studies, arts, and sciences, to 
 which in my own nature I am most induced," 1 united 
 as it was with the most untiring pursuit after politi- 
 cal advancement, must make us suspect that he was 
 conscious of the tyranny of the latter, was often 
 discomposed by it, and thus, as often, strove to utter 
 a self-justifying protest. Whether it was that, 
 because he had been taunted by Lord Burleigh and 
 Sir Bobert Cecil with the political incapacity of a 
 mere scholar, he resolved to vindicate both his own 
 
 1 Works, iv. p. 494. 
 
BACOtf AS CHAjffCELLOE TILL HIS TALL. 191 
 
 personal dignity, and that of science ; or whether it 
 was that, because he had received from these his 
 relatives such unfair and such ignorant discounte- 
 nance and opposition, he manfully aimed to revenge 
 himself by his own elevation ; or whether it was 
 that he had within himself this thirst for distinc- 
 tion, we cannot say. However, let the grounds 
 of his gratification have been what they may, it 
 would be difficult to exaggerate the triumphant 
 feeling with which he gained the eminence. 
 
 It would be a scene full of the highest moral 
 instruction, if we could truly realize him in his 
 chambers, when he repaired thither immediately 
 after his installation as lord keeper of the great 
 seal. All his life he had yielded faith to presenti- 
 ments; and we cannot doubt that the prophetic 
 words of queen Elizabeth had become a load- star 
 of the most powerful fascination: now it had led 
 him to the summit radiant with its reflected light. 
 He now could retort upon the selfish insults of 
 his relations, and, more than all, could smile upon 
 the defeat and humiliation of his bitter, small- 
 souled enemy, Sir Edward Coke. He had long ago 
 been ranked amongst the first in letters, he was 
 now made first in law. Even his desire of wealth, 
 imperious as that feeling was within him from his 
 debts and his love of expenditure, was now fulfilled. 
 He had but just arrived at home; the great seal, 
 with its silken purse, lay on the table before him; 
 he looked upon it; his emotions crowded on him; 
 
192 BACON AS CHANCELLOE 
 
 he sat down and wrote, with all the exuberance 
 of gratitude, to Villiers, Earl of Buckingham, who 
 had been instrumental in his triumph : — 
 
 " My dearest lord, 
 
 " It is both in cares and kindness that small ones 
 float up to the tongue, and great ones sink down into the heart 
 in silence. Therefore, I could speak little to your lordship to- 
 day, neither had I a fit time ; but I must profess thus much, 
 that in this day's work you are the truest and perfectest mirror 
 and example of firm and generous friendship that ever was in 
 court. And I shall count every day lost wherein I shall not 
 either study your well-doing in thought, or do your name honour 
 in speech, or perform your service in deed. Good my lord, 
 account and accept me 
 
 " Your most bounden and devoted friend 
 and servant of all men living, 
 
 "F*- Bacon, C. S." * 
 
 But were all his emotions so jubilant, that no 
 feature of his face betokened an anxiety ? Deeply 
 implicated though he had been in struggles and 
 intrigues, yet we find in him many an affection, 
 though sered, towards truth and goodness. And 
 was he then unconscious of the high self-respect, 
 of the truth, of the intellectual dignity which 
 he had violated in order to reach that spot? Did 
 he feel no humiliation at being made, through 
 his own self-degrading supplications, the official, 
 though the highest, of king James, the arrogance 
 of whose prerogative was an insult to the idea of a 
 
 1 Works, t. p. 463. 
 
TILL HIS FALL. 193 
 
 monarchy, and whose conduct degraded the idea of 
 a man? And were there no disquietudes within 
 that bosom, as there came before him the vindic- 
 tive and most powerful assailants to wdiich he was 
 thenceforth to become a mark more vulnerable than 
 ever: 
 
 We need the testimony of personal experience only 
 to assure us, that the possession of an object which 
 has been long and earnestly pursued after, often 
 presents a sad contrast, in feelings of comparative 
 chagrin and disappointment, to those glowing hopes 
 and imaginings which we had previously entertained. 
 It may, therefore, most naturally be supposed that 
 Lord Bacon, at this hour of his full success, did thus 
 reason with himself: " For what have I been so long 
 and so painfully toiling? Have I really been 
 working up so steep and so rugged an ascent, with 
 the prospect of gaining this spot, and now do I grasp 
 nothing but a cloud, and is even it, with all its 
 gorgeous hues and colours, soon to vanish away?" 
 The inspired Psalmist had to acknowledge that 
 "man, at his best state, is altogether vanity;" 1 and 
 we may conclude that, at this moment, Lord Bacon's 
 reflective spirit pronounced that Psalmist to be right. 
 
 But soon other and more grave proofs came of 
 their own accord. Por awhile he worthily and 
 peacefully discharged his high office ; but few months 
 transpired before he found that the height of his 
 eminence was only likely to make the descent of his 
 
 1 Psalm xxxix. 5. 
 X 
 
194 BACON AS CHANCELLOR 
 
 fall the more precipitous, the more rapid, and the 
 more humiliating. 
 
 The very next morning after his promotion he 
 went to his predecessor, most gracefully and, we 
 believe, sincerely thanked him for those good offices 
 which had secured for him his own success, and 
 pledged himself to the dying statesman as to the 
 future ennobling honours of his family. 
 
 Then came a proud day for him. On the seventh 
 of May he went to Westminster with the most costly 
 pomp, and took his seat as lord keeper in the midst 
 of a crowd of the highest nobles of his country, and 
 was duly sworn. Profoundly interesting to the 
 student of the human heart is the speech that Lord 
 Bacon then delivered, when compared with his subse- 
 quent career. We shall only extract one sentence : 
 " I shall be careful there be no exaction of any new 
 fees, but according as they have been heretofore set 
 and tabled. As for lawyer's fees, I must leave that 
 to the conscience and merit of the lawyer, and the 
 estimation and gratitude of the client." When he 
 uttered these purposes, we would trust he was honest 
 in resolve. Alas! that a few months proved the 
 utter and melancholy imbecility of such a purpose. 
 The ideal theory of his duty was as minute as it was 
 great ; but he foreswore it. 
 
 He was no sooner in his new and almost supreme 
 power, than he received the congratulations of the 
 universities of Cambridge and Oxford; great bodies 
 of learning whom his literary labours must have 
 
TILL HIS FALL. 195 
 
 especially conciliated, the former, more particularly, 
 as he was one of her own sons. TThat were the 
 terms of those several congratulations we know not ; 
 but his lordship's answers are preserved : — 
 
 u TO THE RENOWXED ITXIYERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, HIS DEAR 
 AXD REYEREXE MOTHER. 
 
 1 I am debtor for your letters, and of the time likewise 
 that I have taken to answer them. But as soon as I could 
 choose what to think on, I thought good to let you know ; 
 that although much you may err in your valuation of me, yet 
 you shall not be deceived in your assurance ; and for the other 
 part also, though the manner be to mend the picture by the 
 life, yet I would be glad to mend the life by the picture, and to 
 become and be as you express me to be. Your gratulations 
 shall be no more welcome to me than your business or occasions, 
 which I will attend ; and yet not so, but that I shall endeavour 
 to prevent them by my care of your good. And so I commend 
 you to God's goodness. 
 
 u Your most loving and assured friend and son, 
 
 "F*-Bacox, C.S.i 
 " Gorhambury, April 12, 1617." 
 
 And thus also he wrote to Oxford : — 
 
 " TO THE REVEREXD UNIVERSITY OF OXEORD. 
 
 " Amongst the gratulations I have received, none are more 
 welcome and agreeable to me than your letters, wherein the 
 less I acknowledge of those attributes you gave me, the more I 
 must acknowledge of your affection, which bindeth me no less 
 to you that are professors of learning, than my own dedication 
 doth to learning itself. And therefore you have no need to 
 doubt but I will emulate, as much as in me is, towards you the 
 merits of him that is gone, by how much the more I take 
 
 l Works, v. p. 434. 
 
196 BACON AS CHANCELLOB 
 
 myself to have propriety in the principal motive thereof. And 
 for the equality you wrote of I shall, by the grace of God, far 
 as may concern me, hold the balance as equally between the two 
 universities, as I shall hold the balance of other justice between 
 party and party. And yet in both cases I must meet with some 
 inclinations of affection, which nevertheless shall not carry me 
 aside. And so I commend you to God's goodness. 
 
 "Your most loving and assured friend, ^ 
 
 " Gorhambury, April 12, 1617." -daco.n. 
 
 Surrounded thus with every high sympathy, with 
 the cordial welcomes of his brethren at the bar, with 
 specially genial feelings of approbation from the peers 
 of the realm, above all, with proud family greet- 
 ings from the great universities of his country, Lord 
 Bacon commenced his chancellorship. 
 
 It is necessary for us, in order that we may be the 
 better fitted for estimating his future character and 
 action, to transcribe both his own letter to Bucking- 
 ham, and the answer which he received upon this 
 critical occasion. 
 
 On the morning after his installation he writes 
 thus to the Duke of Buckingham : — 
 
 "Yesterday I took my place in chancery, which I hold 
 only for the king's grace and favour, and your constant friend- 
 ship. There was much ado and a great deal of world ; but this 
 matter of pomp, which is heaven to some men, is hell to me, or 
 purgatory at least. It is true I was glad to see that the king's 
 choice was so generally approved, and that I had so much inter- 
 est in men's good will and good opinions, because it maketh me 
 the fitter instrument to do my master service, and my friend 
 
 also. 
 
 1 Works, vi. p. 142. 
 
TILL KIS FILL. 197 
 
 "After I was set in chancery, I published his majesty's 
 charge which he gave me when he gave me the seal, and what 
 rules and resolutions I had taken for the fulfilling his command- 
 ments. I send your lordship a copy of that I said. My Lord 
 Hay coming to take nis leave of me two days before, I told him 
 what I was meditating, and he desired me to send him some re- 
 membrance of it ; and so I could not but send him another copy 
 thereof. Men tell me it hath done the king a great deal of 
 honour; insomuch that some of my friends that are wise men 
 and no vain ones, did not stick to say to me, that there were not 
 these seven years such a preparation for a parliament; which 
 was a commendation, I confess, pleased me well. I pray take 
 some fit time to shew it his majesty, because if I misunderstood 
 him in anything, I may amend it ; because I know his judgment 
 is higher and deeper than mine. 
 
 "I take infinite contentment to hear his majesty is in great 
 good health and vigour ; I pray God preserve and continue it. 
 Thus wishing you well above all men, next my master and his ; 
 I rest 
 
 "Tour true and devoted friend and servant, 
 
 "F K - Bacon, C.S. 1 
 "May®** 1617." 
 
 To this Buckingham replied : — 
 
 " My honoured lord, 
 
 li I have acquainted his majesty with your letter, 
 and the papers that came inclosed, who is exceedingly well 
 satisfied with that account you have given him therein, 
 especially with the speech you made at the taking of your place 
 in chancery. Whereby his majesty perceiveth that you have 
 not only given proof how well you understand the place of a 
 chancellor, but done him much right also, in giving notice unto 
 those that were present, that you have received such instruc- 
 tions from his majesty; whose honour will be so much the 
 
 1 Works, t. p. 470. 
 
198 BACON AS CHANCELLOE 
 
 greater, in that all men will acknowledge the sufficiency and 
 worthiness of his majesty's choice, in preferring a man of such 
 abilities to place, which besides cannot but be a great advance- 
 ment and furtherance to his service : and I can assure your 
 lordship, that his majesty was never so well pleased as he is 
 with this account you have given him of this passage. Thus 
 with the remembrance of my service, I rest 
 
 " Your lordship's ever at command, 
 
 "G. Buckingham. 1 
 " Edinburgh, 18 May, 1617." 
 
 It was but some few months after this his great 
 political triumph, that his thoughts were occupied as 
 to his own immediate personal safety, in consequence 
 of his connexion with the then Earl of Buckingham. 
 We have already said how convinced we are that, 
 strange as it may seem, the friendly confidence of a 
 great mind with a weak and unprincipled one, will 
 most surely, in the end, terminate in the serious 
 deterioration of the former. "Weakness of character 
 may stand a common chance of being improved 
 by association; but the more probable consequence 
 is, that the mind which is not merely open to im- 
 pression, but fitted to entertain, and thenceafter act 
 out that impression, will receive it, and will lend to 
 it its own native though perverted vigour. And 
 this we must carefully retain in mind, as we would 
 charitably judge of Lord Bacon's character and con- 
 duct. He had degraded himself from his position as 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 475. The speech referred to in these letters was 
 delivered by Lord Bacon " at the taking of his place in chancery." It is 
 too long for insertion in this memoir, hut will amply repay perusal. 
 Vid. iv. p. 486. 
 
TILL HIS FALL. 199 
 
 a scholar ; as a gentleman high in his profession of 
 law ; as a member of parliament ; for he had lent 
 himself with the most pusillanimous subserviency 
 to a courtier, who was vain and flippant and unpa- 
 triotic. 
 
 We cannot conceive of a more humiliating position 
 than that which Lord Bacon had now to occupy. No 
 one will question his genius, or that he was con- 
 scious of its possession. Few will deny his insight 
 into human character. Naturally observant and 
 meditative ; politically trained to watch and specu- 
 late upon the minds and qualifications of those with 
 whom he had to struggle; he must have become 
 especially quick and decisive in his judgments about 
 those who were around him. Then, what horrible, 
 self- degrading anguish must he not have undergone 
 when, full of noble purposes, full of resplendent 
 views of truth, and with a range of intellectual 
 vision such as has been rarely given to man, the 
 author of the " Essays" and the "Instauratio 
 Magna," the applauded, honoured chieftain of the 
 House of Commons, first meanly supplicated the 
 patronage of Buckingham, who never had a great 
 thought; and then magnified to adoration king 
 James, who seems never to have had a great prin- 
 ciple ! Let us ponder over this almost inexplicable 
 prostration of mighty intellect before the miserable 
 flauntings of a royal favourite, and the ferule of a 
 crowned pedagogue. 
 
 What was his anxiety to disclaim all personal 
 
200 BACON AS CHANCELLOR 
 
 ambition at this moment, and how other men dis- 
 trusted such professions, Lord Bacon has himself 
 unwittingly recorded. Speaking of himself, he says : 
 
 " When his lordship was newly advanced to the great seal, 
 Gondomar came to visit him. My lord said, that he was to 
 thank God and the king for that honour ; but yet, so he might 
 be rid of the burden, he could very willingly forbear the honour ; 
 and that he formerly had a desire, and the same continued with 
 him still, to lead a private life. Gondomar answered, that he 
 would tell him a tale of an old rat, that would needs leave the 
 world, and acquainted the young rats that he would retire into 
 his hole, and spend his days solitarily, and would enjoy no more 
 comfort ; and commanded them, upon his high dipleasure, not to 
 offer to come in unto him. They forbore two or three days ; at 
 last, one that was more hardy than the rest, incited some of his 
 fellows to go with him, and he would venture to see how his 
 father did ; for he might be dead. They went in, and found the 
 old rat in the midst of a rich Parmesan cheese. So he applied 
 the fable after his witty manner." l 
 
 Exactly a week after Eacon had received the great 
 seal, the king and his court left London on a visit 
 to Scotland, and the new lord keeper was mean- 
 while charged with the highest executive as well 
 as judicial functions. Yet, notwithstanding such 
 numerous and such weighty duties, he devoted such 
 persevering industry to the affairs of chancery, that 
 within one month he had, with the fullest satisfac- 
 tion to the bar as to the wisdom of his judgments, 
 cleared off the whole arrears of his court. On this 
 occasion he thus writes to Buckingham : — 
 
 i Works, ii. p. 422. 
 
TILL HIS FALL. 201 
 
 "My very good lord, 
 
 "This day I have made even with the business of 
 the kingdom for common justice ; not one cause unheard ; the 
 lawyers drawn dry of all the motions they were to make ; not 
 one petition unanswered. And this I think could not he said 
 in our age before. This I speak not out of ostentation, but out 
 of gladness when I have done my duty. I know men think I 
 cannot continue if I should thus oppress myself with business ; 
 but that account is made. The duties of life are more than 
 life ; and if I die now, I shall die before the world will be 
 
 weary of me, which in our times is somewhat rare I 
 
 humbly pray you to commend my service, infinite in desire, 
 howsoever limited in ability, to his majesty ; to hear of whose 
 health and good disposition is to me the greatest beatitude 
 which I can receive in this world. And I humbly beseech his 
 majesty to pardon me, that I do not now send him my account 
 of council business, and other his royal commands, till within 
 these four days : because the flood of business of justice did 
 hitherto wholly possess me ; which I know worketh this effect, 
 as it contenteth his subjects, and knitteth their hearts more and 
 more to his majesty ; though, I must confess, my mind is upon 
 other matters, as his majesty shall know, by the grace of God, 
 at his return. God ever bless and prosper you. 
 " Your lordship's true and most devoted 
 friend and servant, 
 
 "F R - Bacon. 1 
 "Whitehall, June $ th - 1617." 
 
 We have seen how diligently, and with what 
 success, he had commenced the administration of his 
 own court: to this he now added the most con- 
 ciliating and modest behaviour towards his brother 
 judges. 
 
 1 Works, vi. p. 149. 
 
202 BACON AS CHANCELLOB 
 
 " Yesterday,' ' he states in his * Account of Council Busi- 
 ness,' "which was my weary day, I bid all the judges to dinner, 
 which was not used to be, and entertained them in a private 
 withdrawing chamber with the learned counsel. When the 
 feast was past I came amongst them, and sat me down at the 
 end of the table, and prayed them to think I was one of them, 
 and but a foreman. I told them I was weary, and therefore 
 must be short, and that I would now speak to them upon two 
 points. Whereof the one was, that I would tell them plainly, 
 that I was firmly persuaded that the former discords and 
 differences between the chancery and other courts were but 
 flesh and blood ; and that now the men were gone, the matter 
 was gone ; and that for my part, as I would not suffer any the 
 least diminution or derogation from the ancient and due power 
 of the chancery ; so if anything should be brought to them at 
 any time, touching the proceedings of the chancery, which did 
 seem to them exorbitant or inordinate, that they should freely 
 and friendly acquaint me with it, and we should soon agree ; or 
 if not, we had a master that could easily both discern and rule. 
 At which speech of mine, besides a great deal of thanks and 
 acknowledgments, I did see cheer and comfort in their faces, as 
 if it were a new world." . . . .* 
 
 Would that this spirit of openness and just dealing 
 had been maintained ! But in this very paper one 
 more questionable, and another more vindictive, 
 proceeding is avowed : — 
 
 "Some two days before I had a conference with some 
 judges, not all, but such as I did choose, touching the high 
 commission, and the extending of the same in some points ; 
 which I see I shall be able to dispatch, by consent, without his 
 majesty's further trouble. 
 
 i Works, v. p. 472. 
 
TILL HIS TALL. 203 
 
 " I did call upon the committees also for the proceedings in 
 the purging of Sir Edward Coke's Reports, which I see they go 
 en with seriously.' ' 
 
 These last statements sadly deserve our notice. 
 The former betrays Lord Bacon's servile readiness 
 to extend the king's prerogative, though it entailed 
 upon himself the dishonourable step of tampering 
 with the more facile judges, and of shunning the 
 counsel of the firmer and more patriotic ones. The 
 latter reveals his undiminished spite against Sir 
 Edward Coke, and the eagerness with which he 
 availed himself of his new powers, in order to 
 complete the humiliation of his foe. And that this 
 humiliation could only be effected at the cost of 
 those rights of his country, for the noble advocacy 
 of which Sir Edward Coke was upon his trial, only 
 adds a still darker hue to the implacableness of the 
 lord keeper. 
 
 And to teach us that man's wrong- doing carries 
 within it its own punishment, this spirit of revenge 
 was the direct cause of Lord Bacon's shame and 
 ruin. Sir Edward Coke, through Bacon's persecu- 
 tions, had been displaced from his chief -justiceship ; 
 his name as a privy councillor had been erased ; and 
 now those very Eeports which still command the 
 profoundest homage of the bar, and which, as we 
 have seen already, even Sir Erancis Bacon when 
 attorney-general had declared to "contain infinite 
 good decisions and rulings over of cases," so that 
 without them " the law by this time had been 
 
204 TIACON AS CHx\2s T CELLOE 
 
 almost like a ship without ballast;" these were to 
 be impugned for assailing the royal prerogative. On 
 the brink of this appalling precipice, the astute 
 lawyer conceived a stroke of consummate policy 
 which both saved himself, and began the series of 
 Lord Bacon's fatal disasters. It was obvious that, if 
 by any means, he could attract to his cause the 
 favour of the all-powerful Duke of Buckingham, his 
 security would be certain. That favour he did 
 succeed in attracting, and thus : Sir Edward Coke's 
 daughter by his second wife, Lady Hatton, was the 
 heiress of immense property : this child he offered in 
 marriage to Sir John Yilliers, the brother of the 
 favourite; it was eagerly accepted by the brothers 
 and their mother. This was sure to throw around 
 the persecuted ex-chief-justice the aegis of the power 
 of Buckingham. Still Lord Bacon's position might 
 have remained unshaken ; but he had already become 
 dizzy from his eminence, and now was blinded by 
 the fury of his fear. Instantly he set afoot intrigues 
 with the mother of the heiress; and so important 
 to his own happiness and safety did he think the 
 prevention of this marriage, that he actually entered 
 on an alliance with the very woman who, in her 
 own person, had years ago scornfully rejected the 
 offer of his hand. Forgetful of the policy of masking 
 himself behind her ladyship, in order that the eye of 
 the all-powerful favourite might not see him, he was 
 mad enough to challenge the direct hostility of the 
 Duke. He thus wrote to him : — 
 
TILL HIS FALL. 205 
 
 u ITy very good lord, 
 
 "I shall write to your lordship of a business 
 which your lordship may think to concern myself; but I do 
 think it concerneth your lordship much more. For as for me, 
 as my judgment is not so weak as to think it can do me any 
 hurt, so my love to you is so strong, as I would prefer the 
 good of you and yours before mine own particular. 
 
 "It seemeth secretary TYinwood hath officiously busied 
 himself to make a match between your brother and Sir Edward 
 Coke's daughter ; and, as we hear, he doth it rather to make a 
 faction, than out of any great affection to your lordship ; it is 
 true, he hath the consent of Sir Edward Coke, as we hear, upon 
 reasonable conditions for your brother ; and yet no better than, 
 without question, may be found in some other matches. But 
 the mother's consent is not had, nor the young gentlewoman's, 
 who expecteth a great fortune from her mother, which without 
 her consent is endangered. This match, out of my faith and 
 freedom towards your lordship, I hold very inconvenient both 
 for your brother and yourself. 
 
 u First. He shall marry into a disgraced house, which in 
 reason of state is never held good. 
 
 "Next. He shall marry into a troubled house of man 
 and wife, which in religion and Christian discretion is dis- 
 liked. 
 
 " Thirdly. Your lordship will go near to lose all such your 
 friends as are adverse to Sir Edward Coke ; myself only 
 except, who out of a pure love and thankfulness shall ever be 
 firm to you. 
 
 "And lastly and chiefly, believe it, it will greatly weaken 
 and distract the king's' service ; for, though in regard of the 
 king's great wisdom and depth, I am persuaded those things 
 will not follow which they imagine ; yet opinion will do a great 
 deal of harm, and cast the king back, and make him relapse 
 into those inconveniencies which are now well on to be 
 recovered. 
 
206 BACON AS CHANCELLOR 
 
 " Therefore my advice is, and your lordship shall do yourself 
 a great deal of honour if, according to religion and the law 
 of God, your lordship will signify unto my lady, your mother, 
 that your desire is that the marriage be not pressed, or 
 proceeded in, without the consent of both parents \ and so 
 either break it altogether, or defer any farther delay in it 
 till your lordship's return : and this the rather for that, besides 
 the inconvenience of the matter itself, it hath been carried so 
 harshly and inconsiderately by secretary Winwood, as, for doubt 
 that the father should take away the maiden by force, the 
 mother, to get the start, hath conveyed her away secretly ; 
 which is ill of all sides. Thus hoping your lordship will not 
 only accept well, but believe my faithful advice, who by my 
 great experience in the world must needs see further than your 
 lordship can ; I ever rest 
 
 44 Your lordship's true and most devoted 
 friend and servant, 
 
 " F R - Bacon, C. S. 1 
 «July\% 1617." 
 
 "We record this letter with anguish. "Written — by a 
 man so great in intellect, so large and noble in 
 theoretic principles, so conscious of the magnanimity 
 of truth, and now so highly raised above the small 
 suggestions of envy — to a man so unadorned by aught 
 save the freaks of fortune, and the disgraceful 
 favouritism of his sovereign, what can be our 
 inference, but that Lord Bacon had surrendered to 
 the craven anxiety of a revenge, which was aggra- 
 vated by jealousy, all that philosophy should have 
 made dear to him, and all that religion should have 
 made inviolable ? Perhaps no more instructive 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 476. 
 
TILL HIS FALL. 207 
 
 parallel to that of Hainan and jlordeeai (setting 
 aside their personal characters) ever occurred. Bich 
 in all the affluence of knowledge, of wealth, of 
 power, Lord Bacon knew no rest while his foe lived, 
 though he was only "at the gate"; and now the 
 restless discontent of his soul becomes a bandage 
 upon his vision ; but though he steps forward unwit- 
 tingly, the eyes of justice guide him to that chasm 
 which not even his agility can overleap. 
 
 "What must have been his self-torture while Buck- 
 ingham treated this letter with scornful silence ! In 
 his agony of impatience, Lord Bacon takes another and 
 still more aggravating step : he writes upon the subject 
 to that sovereign who was, if possible, more con- 
 cerned for the welfare of his minion than that minion 
 was for himself. We must give the entire of this 
 long letter, because it is so truthful in its exhibition 
 of Lord Bacon's feelings at the time : and deeply 
 painful to the kindly student of his species though 
 it is, it must be pondered over as a picture of a 
 human heart degraded down to fear and sophistry by 
 the plottings of revenge. 
 
 " It may please your most excellent majesty, 
 
 " I think it agreeable to my duty, and the great 
 obligation wherein I am tied to your majesty, to be freer than 
 other men in giving your majesty faithful counsel while things 
 are in passing, and more bound than other men in doing your 
 commandments, when your resolution is settled and made 
 known to me. 
 
 " I shall therefore most humbly crave pardon from your 
 majesty if, in plainness and no less humbleness, I dekver to 
 
208 BACON AS CHANCELLOR 
 
 your majesty my honest and disinterested opinion in the business 
 of the match of Sir John Villiers, which I take to be magnum 
 in parvo [great in little] ; preserving always the laws and 
 duties of a firm friendship to my lord of Buckingham, whom I 
 will never cease to love, and to whom I have written already, 
 but have not heard yet from his lordship. 
 
 " But first I have three suits to make to your majesty, hoping 
 well you will grant them all. 
 
 '• The first is, that if there be any merit in drawing on that 
 match, your majesty should bestow the thanks not upon the zeal 
 of Sir Edward Coke to please your majesty, nor upon the 
 eloquent persuasions or pragmaticals of Mr. Secretary "Winwood, 
 but upon them that, carrying your commandments and direc- 
 tions with strength and justice in the matter of the government 
 of Dieppe, in the matter of Sir Kobert Bich, and in the matter 
 of protecting the lady, according to your majesty's command- 
 ment, have so humbled Sir Edward Coke, as he seeketh now 
 that with submission, which, as your majesty knoweth, before 
 he rejected with scorn; for this is the true orator that hath 
 persuaded this business ; as I doubt not but your majesty, in 
 your excellent wisdom, doth easily discern. 
 
 " My second suit is, that your majesty would not think me so 
 pusillanimous, as that I, that when I was but Mr. Bacon had 
 ever, through your majesty's favour, good reason at Sir Edward 
 Coke's hands, when he was at the greatest, should, now that 
 your majesty of your great goodness hath placed me so near 
 your chair, being, as I hope, by God's grace and your instruc- 
 tions, made a servant according to your heart, fear him, or take 
 umbrage of him, in respect of mine own particular. 
 
 " My third suit is, that if your majesty be resolved the match 
 shall go on, after you have heard my reasons to the contrary, I 
 may receive therein your particular will and commandments from 
 yourself, that I may conform myself thereunto ; imagining with 
 myself, though I will not wager on women's minds, that I can 
 prevail more with the mother than any other man. For if I 
 
TILL HIS FALL, 209 
 
 should be requested in it from my lord of Buckingham, the 
 answers of a true friend ought to be, that I had rather go 
 against his mind than against his good ; but your majesty I 
 must obey; and, besides, I shall conceive that your majesty, out 
 of great wisdom and depth, doth see those things which I see 
 not. 
 
 " Now, therefore, not to hold your majesty with many words, 
 which do but drown matter, let me most humbly desire your 
 majesty to take into your royal consideration, that the state is at 
 this time not only in good quiet and obedience, but in a good 
 affection and disposition. Your majesty's prerogative and autho- 
 rity having risen some just degrees above the horizon more 
 than heretofore, which hath dispersed vapours ; your judges are 
 in good temper ; your justices of the peace, which is the body 
 of the gentlemen of England, grow to be loving and obsequious, 
 and to be weary of the humour of ruffling ; all mutinous spirits 
 grow to be a little poor, and to draw in their horns , and not the 
 less for your majesty's disauthorizing the man I speak of. Now 
 then, I reasonably doubt, that if there be but an opinion of his 
 coming in with the strength of such an alliance, it will give a 
 turn and relapse in men's minds into the former state of things, 
 hardly to be holpen, to the great weakening of your majesty's 
 service. 
 
 " Again, your majesty may have perceived, that as far as it 
 was fit for me in modesty to advise, I was ever for a parliament ; 
 which seemeth to me to be " cardo rerum," or " summa summa- 
 ruru" [the turning point; or, in other words, the sum and 
 substance of affairs], for the present occasions. But this, my 
 advice, was ever conditional ; that your majesty should go to a 
 parliament with a council united, and not distracted ; and that 
 your majesty will give me never leave to expect, if that man 
 come in. Not for any difference of mine own, for I am 
 11 omnibus omnia" [all things to all men] for your majesty's 
 service ; but because he is by nature unsociable, and by habit 
 popular, and too old now to take a new ply. And men begin 
 
210 BACON AS CHANCELLOR 
 
 already to collect, yea, and to conclude, that he that raiseth such 
 a smoke to get in, will set all on fire when he is in. 
 
 " It may please your majesty, now I have said, I have done; 
 and as I think I have done a duty not unworthy the first year 
 of your last high favour, I most humbly pray your majesty to 
 pardon me, if in anything I have erred ; for my errors shall 
 always be supplied by obedience ; and so I conclude, with my 
 prayers for the happy preservation of your person and estate. 
 "Your majesty's most humble, bounden, 
 and most devoted servant, 
 
 "F R - Bacon, C.S. 1 
 " Gorhambury, July 25, 16 17." 
 
 To this letter we would urge our readers to pay- 
 especial attention, for it discloses much. "We would 
 not particularly demur to the terms of address to his 
 sovereign, in which, servile though it may seem to 
 us, Lord Bacon was only enacting the part of the 
 finished courtier of his day. Eut we beg notice to 
 be taken of the perfect art with which he presents 
 his enemy's possible success, as threatening the king's 
 favourite aims as to his prerogative ; the skill with 
 which he underrates the active efforts of the secretary 
 Winwood, one who was his own foe, and Sir Edward 
 Coke's firm friend ; and above all, as the betrayer of 
 his trembling anxiety, the protest which he utters 
 against the bare idea of his feeling alarm at the 
 possible restoration of Sir Edward : a protest which 
 he should have been wise enough to know, would be 
 a thorough confirmation of its contrary. Alas ! this 
 great man had gained his curule chair, but the seat 
 
 i Works, v. p. 473. 
 
TILL HIS FALL. 211 
 
 was insecure and uneasy ; and little-minded passions 
 kept him from seeing the high policy of assuming 
 quietude while he sat upon it. The laurel crown 
 had heen woven upon his brow, but jealousy robbed 
 him of his philosophical calmness; and because there 
 was one thorn, he not only allowed his forehead to 
 betray his pain, but with an eagerness which rent 
 the chaplet, insisted on its withdrawal. 
 
 On the same day that he wrote to his sovereign, 
 he sent another letter to the Earl of Buckingham, and 
 afresh betrayed his impatience. But meanwhile, the 
 actual movements for this marriage became more de- 
 cided, and made the complication of diplomatic 
 strategy the more perplexing. Lady Hatton, ruled 
 by the suggestions of Lord Bacon, abstracted her 
 child from her father's home, and concealed her in 
 her country-house. Sir Edward Coke ascertained this 
 surreptitious retreat of his child ; demanded a warrant 
 from the lord-keeper for her rescue ; was refused ; and 
 then availed himself of pure force, and regained pos- 
 session of her person. This anew exposed him to 
 legal proceedings, and the lord-keeper descended to 
 instruct the attorney-general to file informations 
 against him in the only court of the country which 
 was above appeal, and over which his authority 
 was paramount : namely, the star-chamber. 
 
 Soon, however, he received a rebuke from the 
 monarch, which drew from Lord Bacon an answer so 
 fawningly submissive, and so degradingly deprecating, 
 that nothing but the laws of historic truth would 
 
212 T2AC0N AS CIIAXCELLOIi 
 
 make us transcribe it. It is not necessary for us to 
 quote the king's letter ; it is more than enough to 
 give his chancellor's reply : — 
 
 " May it please your most excellent majesty, 
 
 " I do very much thank your majesty for your 
 letter, and think myself much honoured hy it. For though it 
 contain some matter of dislike, in which respect it hath grieved 
 me more than any event which hath fallen out in my life ; yet 
 because I know that reprehensions from the best masters to the 
 best servants are necessary, and that no chastisement is 
 pleasant for the time, but yet worketh good effects ; and for 
 that I find intermixed some passages of trust and grace ; and 
 find also in myself, inwardly, sincerity of intention and con- 
 formity of will, however I may have erred ; I do not a little 
 comfort myself, resting upon your majesty's accustomed favour, 
 and most humbly desiring that any one of my particular 
 motions may be expounded by the consent and direct course, 
 which your majesty knoweth, I have ever held in your service. 
 
 u First, I do acknowledge that this match of Sir John 
 Villiers is * magnum in parvo'* [a great matter in a small 
 compass], in both senses that your majesty speaketh. But 
 your majesty perceiveth well that I took it to be, in a further 
 degree, ' majus in parvo* [a greater matter], in respect of your 
 service. But since your majesty biddeth me to confide upon 
 your act of empire, I have done. For, as the scripture saith, 
 to God all things are possible ; so certainly to wise kings much 
 is possible. But for that second sense that your majesty 
 speaketh of, * magnum in parvo,' in respect of the stir ; albeit it 
 being but a most lawful and ordinary thing, I most humbly 
 pray your majesty, if I signify to you that we here take the 
 loud and vocal, and as I may call it, streperous carriage to have 
 been far more on the other side, which indeed is inconvenient, 
 rather than the thing itself. 
 
 "Now for the manner of my affection to my Lord of Buck- 
 
TILL HIS FALL. 213 
 
 inghnm, for whom I would spend my life, and that which is to 
 me more, the cares of my life ; I must humbly confess that it 
 was in this a little parent-like, this being no other term than 
 his lordship hath heretofore vouchsafed to my counsels ; but in 
 truth, and it please your majesty, without any grain of clisesteem 
 for his lordship's discretion. For I know him to be naturally 
 a wise man, of a sound and staid wit, as I ever said unto your 
 majesty. And again, I know he hath the best tutor in Europe ; 
 but yet I was afraid that the height of his fortune might make 
 him too secure ; and, as the proverb is, a looker-on sometimes 
 seeth more than a gamester." . . . . 1 
 
 Lord Bacon received another letter from king 
 James, which was still more severe and which — 
 coming as it did merely for the maintenance in im- 
 pertinent anthority of a most unworthy courtier, and 
 written too by a monarch whose individual character, 
 and whose legislative right to assume such arrogance, 
 must have so often aroused questionings among his 
 subjects, ought to and would, if the lord chancellor 
 had been a man of firmness, have produced the 
 most indignant resistance — simply obtained from his 
 lordship the most abject submission. "We speak, we 
 know, in strong terms about king James; but we 
 believe the terms we use to be far from too strong. 
 In deep humility would we speak of any and of every 
 man, and most especially of him who was one of God's 
 dignities ; but there are the interests of others who 
 were his fellow men, and, in the sight of their 
 Creator, just as valuable as himself, and whose 
 historic fame claims our fidelity as much as does his 
 
 l Works, vL p. 157. 
 
214 BACON AS CHANCELLOR 
 
 own; and we, therefore, though it be a sad contribu- 
 tion to the subject of this biography, record our belief 
 that our country's archives are sullied by the acts of 
 no weaker a ruler, and that Lord Bacon's tolerance 
 of his conduct, and, alas ! flattery to his face, is even a 
 more degrading fact than any one of those which we 
 shall have hereafter so mournfully to recount. It is 
 an afflicting duty to have to add, that this great man 
 thus called down upon himself still more insulting 
 rejoinders to other letters, and that when his monarch 
 and his parasite returned to Whitehall, Lord Bacon 
 had to beg an audience with the latter, and to endure 
 the unheard-of contumely of waiting in an ante- 
 chamber, amidst liveried lacqueys, though with the 
 great seals in his hands, before he could approach 
 the presence of one who was as great a charlatan 
 as he was a profligate. But then, even then, the 
 Lord Bacon of the highest actual honour which a 
 subject could attain, and the Lord Bacon of the 
 almost idolatrous worship of science in after ages, 
 flung himself, when he was admitted to that con- 
 temptible minion, "on the floor, kissed the favour- 
 ite's feet, and vowed never to rise till he was 
 forgiven." 1 What a picture ! what a solemn comedy! 
 The most far-sighted intellect, the seer of science, on 
 his knees, and in earnest humiliation at the foot of 
 one whom all society, notwithstanding its charity to 
 the dead, pronounces to have been little better than 
 a clever intriguer. 
 
 l Campbell's Lives, ii. p. 375. 
 
TILL HIS FALL. 215 
 
 Bacon seems to have recovered somewhat from 
 this check in his course, and to have gone forward in 
 his high duties. His efforts about the marriage 
 proved fruitless ; that marriage was celebrated ; Lord 
 Coke was saved from further prosecutions, and re- 
 stored to his rank as privy- councillor, though not to 
 his chief- justiceship ; and Lord Bacon retained his 
 power. But he had compromised himself. He had 
 lost caste in his own consciousness; the caste of a 
 man of high civil dignity, of vast knowledge, and 
 of large scientific purposes, before a man of the most- 
 extreme littleness in every tiling but his monarch's 
 favour. Nothing but experience, or extensive sur- 
 veys of human life, can apprise us of the fatal 
 moral check which any like circumstances can 
 create. 1 
 
 Thenceforth Lord Bacon was too ashamed to avow 
 any independence of spirit before Lord Buckingham. 
 Although his was so great a mind, he became a 
 w r eak tool in those hands which, he was perfectly 
 aware, were the hands of guilty folly. Bucking- 
 ham, during these days of Lord Bacon's moral 
 palsy, forced him into acts which created monopolies, 
 the principle of which he had previously condemned ; 
 and it is probable that these acts of weakness arose 
 from that inert moral condition into which the late 
 
 i Buckingham, in one of his letters at this time to Bacon, thus 
 arouses his alarm : "I protest, all this time past, it was no small grief 
 unto me to hear the mouth of so many, upon this occasion, open to load 
 you with innumerable, malicious, and detracting speeches, as if no 
 music were more pleasing to my ear than to rail of you, which made 
 me rather regret the ill-nature of mankind, that, like dogs, love to set 
 upon them that they see snatched at." Works, vi. p. 172. 
 
216 BACON AS CHANCELLOE 
 
 humiliating passages of his life had prostrated him, 
 not from any native love of that delinquency, which 
 at length ruined him, and which we have now to 
 recount. 
 
 Upon so grave a topic it will be well for us to 
 dwell. The future Duke of Buckingham was rapa- 
 cious; and he was dishonestly acute enough to se^ 
 how his power over the compromised Lord Bacon 
 might be a means of gratifying his passion. He 
 gave patents to Sir Giles Mompesson and Sir Francis 
 Michell, wherewith these sons of avarice monopo- 
 lized licences to victuallers and the manufacturers 
 of gold and silver lace. Of course, the royal 
 favourite received the most ample bribes. And 
 when their personal frauds, and their excesses and 
 extortions by their agents, aroused the indignation 
 of the country, and called for the interference of 
 the government, Bacon, seduced by their ringleader, 
 threw the shield of his name and station before the 
 offenders, allured the attorney and solicitor-general 
 into a collusive cooperation, added all the warrant 
 of his high office to the extortion, and, on the admis- 
 sion of Sir Edward Villiers to partnership in the 
 guilty spoil, punished all who afterwards were 
 chargeable with infraction on its exclusiveness. 
 
 Then, moreover, the lord keeper yielded to another 
 and, if possible, a still more outrageous interference 
 with his integrity. He allowed Buckingham to influ- 
 ence him, if not dictate, as to his judicial decisions. 
 Numerous letters are before us in which he received 
 
TILL HIS FALL. 217 
 
 without remonstrance suggestions, the avowed object 
 of which was to incline him to prejudge cases. 
 Whether he suffered them to mislead him, is another 
 question. The fact alone is too conclusive, as a 
 proof that he no longer breathed an atmosphere in- 
 corruptible. 
 
 The uneasiness of his conscience was however 
 lulled, for the moment, by new honours — honours 
 most probably obtained as rewards for his servility. 
 The higher title of lord chancellor was conferred 
 upon iiim, and a few months afterwards, he was 
 raised to the peerage as Baron Verulam. In con- 
 ferring this latter dignity, king James avowed that 
 he was " moved by the grateful sense he had of the 
 many faithful services rendered him by this worthy 
 person." And the circumstances which accompanied 
 this grant of the patent of nobility, were most 
 nattering. The Prince of Wales, the Duke of 
 Lennox, the Marquis of Buckingham, the Marquis 
 of Hamilton, the Earls of Pembroke, Arundel and 
 Surrey, were the witnesses. The year following he 
 was created Viscount St. Albans. 
 
 At the very time of his receiving such high honours, 
 the literary reputation of Lord Bacon was hourly ad- 
 vancing ; nay, became even more preeminent abroad 
 than in his own country. His Essays, translated this 
 same year into Italian by his friend Mr. Matthew, 
 attained unexampled success. In the words of the 
 faithful and honest Bawley : " Neither the weight 
 of business, nor the pomps of a court, could divert 
 
218 BACON AS CHANCELLOR 
 
 his attention from the study of philosophy. Those 
 were his avocations and encumbrances : this was his 
 beloved employment, and almost the only pleasure 
 in which he indulged his freer and better hours. 
 He gave to the public in 1620 his Novum Organum> 
 as a second part to his grand Instauration of the 
 Sciences ; a work that for twelve years together he 
 had been methodizing, altering, and polishing, till 
 he had laboured the whole into a series of aphorisms, 
 as it now appears. Of all his writings, this seems 
 to have undergone the strictest revision, and to be 
 finished with the severest judgment." 1 This is not 
 the place for us to remark upon this great work, 
 except to observe that — what has ever been con- 
 sidered as the noblest product of his genius — what 
 has obtained for him the supreme title of "the 
 father of intellectual philosophy" — what, in its 
 preparation, must have brought him into commerce 
 with the largest and most ennobling thoughts of 
 science — was given to the public in the midst of 
 actions and intrigues of public life, from which 
 many a pretender would have revoltingly turned 
 aside. 
 
 Soon, alas ! such became the pressure of his poli- 
 tical anxieties, that these philosophical recreations, 
 though incidental, were perforce suspended. But 
 before he had to enact the painful and fruitless part 
 of his own defence, he was called to an effort which, 
 if he had honourably discharged it, might have 
 
 1 Works, i. p. 42. 
 
TILL HIS FALL. 219 
 
 redeemed him from much of the obloquy which 
 history casts upon his name. 
 
 Sir "Walter Ealeigh — the man of British fame, the 
 polished gentleman, the perfect courtier, the open- 
 handed friend, the large-minded statesman, the 
 warrior, the poet, the philosopher and historian — Sir 
 Walter Ealeigh, whose gallantry and wit had so often 
 smoothed the cares of the great queen Elizabeth; 
 whose chivalrous exploits had gained renown both 
 in her own reign and that of her successor ; whose 
 statesmanship had often won from Lord Burleigh and 
 Sir Robert Cecil both surprise and admiration; whoso 
 lays were the songs of his country, and his writings 
 the theme of European praise — was demanded as a 
 victim by king James. And Lord Bacon carried the 
 sacrificial knife. For although he took no part in 
 the proscription of a being so illustrious, he acquiesced 
 in his condemnation and his murder. Here again 
 he showed his infatuated short-sightedness. The 
 whole of England would have sympathized in his 
 protest at the brutal conduct of his arch-enemy, Sir 
 Edward Coke, who had formerly presided at the trial 
 of Sir Walter, and would have merged their suspicions 
 of all that was personal to himself, in their feeling 
 for a man so vindictively accused. But the chancellor 
 overlooked all these high and righteous policies, and 
 bowed to the warrant of Sir Walter's death. This 
 connivance at the sacrifice of his brother-in-letters 
 was a sad prelude to his own more prolonged and 
 more degrading martyrdom. 
 
220 BACOX AS CHANCELLOR 
 
 Without specifying the charges of corruption 
 which soon came against him, we have merely to 
 state that his keen-sighted foe, Sir Edward Coke, 
 watched his every movement as lord chancellor, 
 seized with the avidity of revenge every act which so 
 high and public a functionary was taking, and then 
 denounced those few of which he saw that he could 
 skilfully avail himself. This foe, Sir Edward Coke, 
 was a member of the House of Commons. He was, as 
 we have said before, a man of the most penetrating 
 legal genius; he had often repressed Bacon in his 
 career ; Bacon had, as often, repaid back, and at high 
 interest, his insolence; Bacon had finally outwitted his 
 opponent, and had become lord chancellor, bepraised, 
 meanwhile, for his collateral honour as a man of 
 literature and science ; an honour with which Sir 
 Edward Coke's one-sided talents could feel no 
 sympathy, and the glory of which his ignorance 
 made only the more vexatious and irritating. But 
 the moment came for his retort, and he used it most 
 mercilessly. 
 
 Lord Bacon had, by his own confession, been guilty 
 of corrupt practices in his seat in chancery. This 
 we cannot question, however great may be our 
 anxiety for his character. He himself distinctly 
 admits, in his address to the House of Lords : — 
 
 " But to pass from the motions of my heart, whereof God 
 is only judge, to the merits of my cause, whereof your lord- 
 ships are judges, under God and his lieutenant; I understand 
 there hath been heretofore expected from me some justification ; 
 
TILL HIS FALL. 221 
 
 and therefore I have chosen one only justification, instead of all 
 other, out of the justifications of Job. For after the clear 
 submission and confession which I shall now make unto your 
 lordships, I hope I may say and justify in these words : * 1 
 have not hid my sin as did Adam, nor concealed my faults in my 
 bosom.' This is the only justification which I will use. 
 
 M It resteth, therefore, that without fig leaves I do ingenu- 
 ously confess and acknowledge that, having understood the 
 particulars of the charge, not formally from the house, but 
 enough to inform my conscience and memory, I find matter 
 sufficient and full both to move me to desert the defence, and to 
 move your lordships to condemn and censure me. Neither will 
 I trouble your lordships by signing those particulars which 
 I think may fall off. . ..." l 
 
 We have thus, perhaps somewhat prematurely, 
 quoted Lord Bacon's own admission. But, for our 
 truthful analysis of his character and conduct, it was 
 necessary. Many other possible considerations might 
 suggest themselves, and would do so, and would have 
 weight; but herein we are anticipated. We know, 
 from the chancellor's own acknowledgment, that he 
 had been guilty of receiving bribes, and that he could 
 make no defence. It would, therefore, be as idle as 
 it would be wrong, to endeavour to palliate this 
 awful failure in the conduct of one whom we would 
 wish, if possible, to honour. That he did thus sin, 
 and that this his sin was of the highest aggravation, 
 we as readily as we sorrowfully admit. But, in 
 our canvass of human actions and human motives, 
 we cannot forget that he had become an unwitting 
 
 1 Works, iv. p. 533. 
 
222 BACON AS CHANCELLOR TILL HIS FALL. 
 
 instrument in the hands of the Duke of Buckingham ; 
 that the tone of his principles had become deteriorated 
 through his intercourse ; that he held his place only 
 by the favourite's sufferance ; and that thus morally 
 weakened and politically entangled, he became vul- 
 nerable to influences to which, we would charitably 
 hope, of his own accord he would have never yielded. 
 A large survey of his character leads us to trust that 
 it was miserable weakness, not deliberate hypo- 
 crisy ; but with this latter he must be chargeable, 
 unless we regard him as having been blinded by the 
 casuistry of his false position ; for it was about this 
 very time that, among other instructions to Hutton, 
 on his appointment as one of the judges of the 
 Common Pleas, he urged on him, "that your hands, 
 and the hands of your hands, I mean those about you, 
 be clean and uncorrupt from gifts, from meddling in 
 titles, and from serving of turns, be they of great or 
 small ones." 1 But we must reserve the particulars 
 of his fatal self-inconsistency for the next chapter. 
 
 l Works, iv. p. 508. 
 
CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 LORD BACON S FALL. 
 
 Loel Chief Justice Campbell so eloquently introduces 
 this mournful topic, that we must quote the passage, 
 though it be somewhat long : — 
 
 "Now was his worldly prosperity at its height, and he 
 seemed in the full enjoyment of almost everything that man can 
 desire. The multitude, dazzled by the splendour of his reputa- 
 tion as a statesman, an orator, a judge, a fine writer, a philoso- 
 pher, for a time were blind to the faults in his character, and 
 overlooked the evil arts by which he had risen. The murmurs 
 of those whom he had wronged, were drowned by the plaudits 
 of his admirers. He was courted and flattered by all classes of 
 the community. He was still able to keep down the arrears of 
 judicial business in his court; and bystanders, who were not 
 interested in the cases before him (a large class compared to the 
 suffering suitors), were struck with the eloquence and apparent 
 equity of his decisions. He was on the best terms with the 
 king and the favourite; and it was generally expected that, 
 like his father, he would keep his office while he lived. 
 Foreigners visiting this country were more eager to see him a3 
 
224 loud bacon's fall. 
 
 the author of the Novum Organum, than as lord high chan- 
 cellor. 
 
 " We have a specimen of the magnificent mode in which he 
 lived, from the description of the grand banquet he gave at 
 York House on entering his sixtieth year. Ben Jonson, who was 
 present, celebrates ' the fare, the wine, the men,' and breaks out 
 in enthusiastic praise of the illustrious host : — 
 
 ' England's high chancellor, the destin'd heir, 
 In his soft cradle, to his father's chair, 
 Whose even thread the fates spin round and full 
 Out of their choicest and their whitest wool.* 
 
 " He had a villa at Kew, to which he could retire for a day 
 in seasons of business ; and his vacations he spent at Gorharn- 
 bury, * in studies, arts, and sciences, to which in his own 
 nature he was most inclined ;' and in gardening, * the purest 
 of human pleasures/ Here, at a cost of £10,000, he erected a 
 private retreat, furnished with every intellectual luxury, to 
 which he repaired when he wished to avoid all visitors, except 
 a few choice spirits, whom he occasionally selected as the com- 
 panions of his retirement and lucubrations. 
 
 " From thence, in January, 1621, he was drawn, not 
 unwillingly, to the king's court at Theobald's ; for there he 
 was raised in the peerage by the title of Viscount St. Alban's, 
 his patent being expressed in the most flattering language, 
 particularly celebrating his integrity in the administration of 
 justice; and he was, with great ceremony, according to the 
 custom of the times, invested by the king with his new dignity, 
 Buckingham supporting his robe of state, while his coronet was 
 borne by the Lord Wentworth. In answer to a complimentary 
 address from the king, he delivered a studied oration, enume- 
 rating the successive favours he had received from the crown, 
 and shadowing forth the fresh services he was to render, in his 
 future career, as evidence of his gratitude. 
 
 " In little more than three months from this day he was 
 a prisoner in the Tower, stripped of his office for confessed 
 
225 
 
 corruption, and condemned to spend the remainder of his days 
 in disgrace and penury." 1 
 
 The ancient moralists have frequently adduced the 
 downfal of the Lydian Croesus as an instance of the 
 inconstancy of human affairs ; but, striking as it 
 is, it wants many of those affecting features which 
 distinguish the case before us. The fall of Croesus 
 was only one of the many sudden results of war. It 
 was simply the rapid prostration of a monarch from 
 the eminence of mere power and pomp and wealth. 
 Whereas, the acclivity from which Lord Bacon was 
 precipitated in a moment, was high enough, and 
 gorgeous enough, to make his fall visibly appalling ; 
 but, far more, it was so surmounted with all the 
 elements of genius and philosophy, and was so en- 
 nobled by the homage of the whole intellectual world, 
 that the contrast of the abyss of shame and feeble- 
 ness into which he was plunged is, perhaps, unparal- 
 leled. And so secured was he upon his throne, by 
 his unrivalled talents, that no detractions of mere 
 envy could have displaced him. He was guarded by 
 every sentinel but those of virtue and God's favour, 
 and he was, therefore, assailable. His enemies were 
 vigilant, and soon made the ruinous discovery. 
 
 We have remarked already, that there was a 
 strange mtermixture of moral power and moral weak- 
 ness in the character of Lord Bacon ; we may add, 
 that there was a similar incongruity of far-sighted- 
 ness on some occasions, and short-sightedness on 
 
 1 Campbell, ii. pp. 385-6. 
 P 
 
226 loed bacon's fall. 
 
 others. What, little short of infatuation, could now 
 have urged him to induce the king to summon a 
 parliament ? In those days, the monarch was accus- 
 tomed to carry on his government, for years together, 
 without the aid of the great council of his people. 
 The chancellor, from his own experience in the House 
 of Commons, must have been aware of its general 
 disposition to investigate the proceedings of crown 
 officers, and of the imminent danger which he would 
 himself run, of coming under their strictures. But 
 overweening as to his influence, and calculating 
 upon his powers of address, he promoted their as- 
 sembling. 
 
 Ko sooner had the House of Commons gone through 
 the accustomed preliminaries, and given a presump- 
 tive proof of the fairness of their spirit, by a liberal 
 vote of supply to the crown, than they adopted 
 measures which must have struck the lord chancellor 
 with terror ; seeing that they accepted the leadership 
 of Sir Edward Coke, whom he knew to be as 
 inveterate in his hostility as ever. Coupling together 
 the facts that the ex- chief -justice was the prime 
 instigator of all the movements which invisibly but 
 surely led to the destruction of Lord Bacon, and that 
 while all the other public prosecutors conducted their 
 inquiries with singular moderation and tenderness, 
 he alone betrayed personal feelings, we may conclude 
 that he was the plotter of the entire series. His 
 profound knowledge of the human mind, especially 
 of the English mind, made him see that, unless he 
 
LOUD BACOX'S FALL. 227 
 
 masked his own vindictive purposes beneath measures 
 which were obviously for the common weal, the 
 public would, from the first, indignantly discoun- 
 tenance him. It was, therefore, that he placed 
 foremost, investigations which seemed to threaten 
 Buckingham rather than Bacon, and which, from 
 their very audacity, might make others sympathize 
 with his courage ; whilst the fact that they tended 
 to bring his own son-in-law, Buckingham's brother, 
 to justice, migh.t lend them the air of patriotic disin- 
 terestedness. He obtained the place of messenger to 
 the House of Lords from the House of Commons, and 
 Lord Bacon had himself to announce from the wool- 
 sack: "The message from the House of Commons 
 by Sir Edward Coke and others is this, that the 
 Commons, having entered into a due consideration of 
 divers heavy grievances touching patents and mono- 
 polies, do desire a conference with your lordships 
 thereupon, leaving the time and place and numbers 
 to your lordships' appointment." 1 The office of the 
 chancellor compelled him to signify their lordships' 
 acquiescence to Sir Edward Coke. 
 
 It will well repay us to watch the progress of 
 Lord Bacon's feelings as the cloud gathered black- 
 ness. In regard to the event which we have 
 just recounted, he remarks, in his letter to Buck- 
 ingham : — 
 
 "I do hear from divers of judgment, that to morrow's 
 conference is like to pass in a calm, as to the referees. Sir 
 
 i March 3d- 1621. 
 
228 lokd bacon's fall. 
 
 Lionel Cranfield, who hath heen formerly the trumpet, said 
 yesterday, that he did now incline to Sir John Walter's opinion 
 and motion, not to have the referees meddled with, otherwise 
 than to discount it from the king ; and so not to look back, but 
 to the future. And I do hear almost all men of judgment in 
 the house wish now that way. I woo nobody : I do but listen, 
 and I have doubt only of Sir Edward Coke, who I wish had 
 some round caveat given him from the king ; for your lordship 
 hath no great power with him ; but I think a word from the 
 king mates him. ,, l 
 
 Here we observe evident discomposure at the 
 conduct of his enemy, and a timid but politic effort 
 to obtain his sovereign's earliest, alas ! unconstitu- 
 tional, interference. 
 
 This storm was, however, arranged to discharge 
 itself chiefly upon others. Another and more direct 
 one was already in the horizon. Another committee 
 of the Commons was appointed to inquire into " the 
 abuses of courts of justice." 2 Its object, under the 
 same indefatigable avenger, was to arraign Lord 
 Bacon for bribery and corruption. And now came 
 the moment when the proposed victim could have 
 said with Cardinal "Wolsey : — 
 
 " Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal 
 I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age 
 Have left me naked to mine enemies." 
 
 Xing James might have saved his servant by a 
 summary dissolution of the parliament. He was 
 under no personal necessity for continuing its sittings, 
 for his subsidies had been already and munificently 
 
 i Works, vi. p. 275. * March 12th. 1621. 
 
LOED BACONS FALL. 229 
 
 voted. And no one will pretend that any deference 
 to constitutional principles prevented him. But it 
 has been surmised, and we fear too justly, that he 
 found himself under the alternative of sacrificing to 
 public resentment either his guilty chancellor, or his 
 still more guilty minion. With the extortionate 
 malpractices of the latter he had been personally 
 acquainted ; perhaps he had been a partner in them. 
 And he was shrewd enough to know, that the only 
 chance of escape for his favourite from ruin, and for 
 himself from unkingly mortification, was to make a 
 scape-goat, the nature of whob3 throes might absorb 
 the attention of spectators. He allowed the inquiries 
 to proceed, and the committee resolved on impeach- 
 ing the lord chancellor, chiefly for the following : — 
 
 " The one concerning Christopher Awbrey, and the other 
 concerning Edward Egerton. In the canse depending in the 
 chancery between this Awbrey and Sir William Bronker, 
 Awbrey feeling some hard measure, was advised to give the lord 
 chancellor £100, the which he delivered to his counsel, Sir 
 George Hastings, and he to the lord chancellor. This business 
 proceeding slowly notwithstanding, Awbrey did write divers 
 letters, and delivered them to the lord chancellor, but could 
 never have any answer from his lordship ; but at last delivering 
 another letter, his lordship answered : If he importuned him, he 
 would lay him by the heels.'' 
 
 We need not recount the evidence on which this 
 accusation was verified, as Lord Bacon subsequently 
 confessed it. 
 
 11 The case of Mr. Edward Egerton is this : there being 
 divers suits between Edward Egerton and Sir Eowland Egerton 
 
230 loed bacon's fall. 
 
 in the chancery, Edward Egerton presented his lordship, a little 
 after he was lord keeper, with a bason and ewer of £50 and 
 above, and afterwards he delivered unto Sir George Hastings 
 and Sir Richard Young £400 in gold, to be presented unto 
 his lordship. Sir Richard Young presented it, his lordship took 
 it, and poised it, and said it was too much; and returned 
 answer, that Mr. Egerton had not only enriched him, but had 
 laid a tye upon his lordship to do him favour in all his just 
 causes." x 
 
 Of this, as well as of twenty-six other charges of 
 having received monies from litigants whose suits 
 were still pending, he made full confession. It must 
 not be overlooked, however, that, especially in the 
 two cases which were most prominently specified, 
 he did not suffer himself to be biassed in the favour 
 of those from whom he received these presents; 
 for he gave " killing decrees" against them. "We 
 confess that we should be disposed to accept this in 
 his favour, together with the fact, that the receipt 
 of presents by the judges was in those days frequent, — 
 were it not that he had so often, and under such a 
 variety of circumstances, uttered his high judicial 
 condemnation of the practice. The guilt was 
 enormous. He afterwards perceived and bewailed 
 it. But we are not prepared to brand his name 
 with all that contumely which would justly attach 
 to that of one who, to-day, in a similar position, 
 acted similarly. Far be it from us to strive to lessen 
 the turpitude of sins of any order into which human 
 beings may be beguiled, so that their repetition 
 
 1 Works, iv. p. 527. 
 
LOED bacon's faxl. 231 
 
 should become the easier for the tempted; but the 
 above facts must not be lost sight of. The equity of 
 his decisions was unquestioned ; and the customs of 
 his day may have so induced an obliquity of moral 
 vision, as that he deceived himself into believing 
 the truth of assertions such as the following : — 
 
 " TO TEE MAHQUIS OF BUCKINGHAM. 
 
 u My very good lord, 
 
 " Your lordship spoke of purgatory. I am now 
 in it ; but my mind is in a calm ; for my fortune is not my 
 felicity. I know I have clean hands, and a clean heart, and, I 
 hope, a clean house for friends or servants. But Job himself, 
 or whosoever was the justest judge, by such hunting of matters 
 against him as hath been used against me, may for a time seem 
 foul, especially in a time when greatness is a mark, and accusa- 
 tion is the game. And if this be to be a chancellor, if the 
 great seal lay upon Hounslow Heath, nobody would take it up. 
 But the king and your lordship will, I hope, put an end to 
 these my straits, one way or other. And, in troth, that which 
 I fear most is, lest continual attendance and business, together 
 with these cases, and want of time to do my weak body right 
 this spring by diet and physic, will cast me down ; and that it 
 will be thought feigning or fainting. But I hope in God I shall 
 hold out. God prosper you." l 
 
 "to the ejng. 
 " It may please your most excellent majesty, 
 
 " Time hath been when I have brought unto you 
 'gemitum columbce* [the moanings of the dove] from others, 
 now I bring it from myself. I fly unto your majesty with the 
 wings of a dove, which once, within these seven days, I thought 
 would have carried me a higher flight. When I enter into 
 myself, I find not the materials of such a tempest as is come 
 
 i Works, vi. p. 277. 
 
232 loed bacon's fall. 
 
 upon me : I have been, as your majesty knoweth best, never 
 author of any immoderate counsel, but always desired to have 
 things carried * suavibus modis' [by gentle means]. I have 
 been no avaricious oppressor of the people ; I have been no 
 haughty, or intolerable, or hateful man in my conversation or 
 carriage ; I have inherited no hatred from my father, but am a 
 good patriot born. Whence should this be ? for these are the 
 things that use to raise dislikes abroad. 
 
 " For the House of Commons, I began my credit there, and 
 now it must be the place of the sepulture thereof ; and yet this 
 parliament, upon the message touching religion, the old love 
 revived, and they said, I was the same man still, only honesty 
 was turned into honour. 
 
 " For the upper house, even within these days, before these 
 troubles, they seemed as to take me into their arms, finding in 
 me ingenuity, which they took to be the straight line of noble- 
 ness, without any crooks or angles. 
 
 "And for the briberies and gifts wherewith I am charged, 
 when the booh of hearts shall be opened, I hope I shall not be 
 found to have the troubled fountain of a corrupt heart, in a 
 depraved habit of taking rewards to pervert justice; howsoever 1 
 may be frail, and partake of the abuses of the times, 
 
 "And therefore I am resolved when I come to my answer, 
 not to trick up my innocency, as I writ to the Lords, by 
 cavillations or voidances ; but to speak to them the language 
 that my heart speaketh to me in excusing, extenuating, or 
 ingenuously confessing ; praying to God to give me the grace to 
 see the bottom of my faults, and that no hardness of heart do 
 steal upon me, under show of more neatness of conscience than 
 is cause. But not to trouble your majesty any longer, craving 
 pardon for this long mourning letter ; that which I thirst after, 
 as the hart after the streams, is, that I may know by my match- 
 less friend 1 that presenteth to you this letter, your majesty's 
 heart (which is an abyssus of goodness as I am an abyssus of 
 
 1 Buckingham. 
 
lord bacon's fall. 233 
 
 misery) towards me. I have been ever your man, and counted 
 myself but an usufructuary of myself, the property being yours. 
 And now making myself an oblation to do with me as may best 
 conduce to the honour of your justice, the honour of your 
 mercy, and the use of your service, resting as clay in your 
 majesty's gracious hands, 
 
 F&-S T - Albax, Cane. 1 
 March 25 th - 1621. 
 
 This letter to his royal master was unavailing. 
 He was left to the judgment of his peers; and, anni- 
 hilating though was their verdict, it must be said to 
 their honour, that it was arrived at with reluctance, 
 but with unanimity, and was pronounced with ge- 
 nerous consideration. Indeed, most of the two 
 houses, and most of the country, seemed to have 
 identified his good fame and his glory with that of 
 themselves. His humiliation was a precious morsel 
 for Sir Edward Coke; out he had the privilege, 
 whether it mortified him or was akin to his tastes, 
 we say not, to have to eat it chiefly alone. 
 
 But before we proceed to the sentence which was 
 to be pronounced, we must take a rapid survey of 
 some minuter movements that took place, and which 
 we have omitted, in order the more prominently to 
 exhibit the leading features of this moral tragedy. 
 
 So long as Lord Bacon had any ground to hope for 
 the king's protection, it must be confessed that he 
 " talked with scorn and defiance of these accusations." 
 It was not until he found that his sovereign was in 
 quest of popularity, protesting "that monopolies 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 549. 
 
234 loed bacon's tall. 
 
 should be put down, and that guilt in high places 
 deserved high punishment; " it was not until he 
 found this same monarch saying, in his message to 
 the parliament, " that he was very sorry a person so 
 much advanced by him, and sitting in so high a place, 
 should be suspected ; that he could not answer for all 
 others under him, though his care in the choice of 
 judges had been great; but if this accusation could 
 be proved, his majesty would punish him to the full ; 
 that the king would, if thought fitting, here grant a 
 commission under the great seal of England, to 
 examine all upon oath that could speak in the busi- 
 ness ; l it was not until he found that Buckingham 
 had given a hint to the parasitical courtiers that they 
 might safely treat with discourtesy him whom, for 
 their interest's sake, they had delighted to honour, 
 that his alarm became real. Thenceforth, Eacon's 
 conduct is a grievous specimen of the struggles of a 
 degraded soul. He, who had at first unblush- 
 ingly denied his guilt, now creeps, under the 
 pressure of alarm, towards the truth, and makes 
 admissions which were so qualified, that even his 
 benignant judges, the peers, had to pass the resolu- 
 tion : — 
 
 " That the lord -chancellor's confession is not fully set down 
 by his lordship, in the said submission, for three causes : — 
 
 i Pari. Hist. 1223. Here again Sir Edward Coke exerted his per- 
 spicacity, not, we believe, so much for the sake of constitutional justice 
 as for that of his malice, when he took a right exception to some of the 
 words of this message, and begged " they would take heed this com- 
 mission did not hinder the manner of their parliamentary proceeding 
 against a great public delinquent." 
 
lord bacon's fall. 235 
 
 "1. First, his lordship confesseth not any particular hrihe or 
 corruption. 
 
 " 2. Xor showeth how his lordship heard the charge thereof. 
 
 " 3. The confession, such as it is, is afterwards extenuated in 
 the same submission ; and, therefore, the lords have sent him a 
 particular of the charge, and do expect his answer to the same 
 with all convenient expedition." 1 
 
 During this distressing correspondence Lord Bacon 
 had fallen ill. They who would doubt the sincerity 
 of his sickness can be those men only who are unable 
 to appreciate the humiliating anguish of so powerful 
 a mind. Commissioners were appointed to act during 
 his absence. Sir James Ley, chief-justice of the 
 King's Bench, was their leader, and immediately on 
 his entrance on his office, and his taking his place 
 upon the woolsack, a conference was demanded by 
 the House of Commons ; and, as its result, the lords 
 " commended the incomparable good parts of the lord 
 chancellor; they magnified the place he held, from 
 whence bounty, justice, and mercy, were to be dis- 
 tributed to the subjects; but they were obliged to 
 declare that the lord chancellor was accused of bribery 
 and corruption, in this his eminent place." 
 
 It was on the next day that Buckingham — 
 avowedly as Lord Bacon's friend — stated in his 
 speech to the House of Lords that "he had been 
 twice to see him, being sent to him by the king ; that 
 the first time his lordship was very sick and heavy, 
 but the second time he found him better, and 
 much comforted with the thought, that the complaint 
 
 1 Works, iv. p. 536. 
 
236 loed bacon's fall. 
 
 against him was come into this house, where he 
 assured himself to find honourable justice, in confi- 
 dence whereof his lordship had written a letter to the 
 house." That letter was only a preliminary appeal 
 to their benevolent dispositions to do him, so high 
 a member of the upper house, full justice. An 
 answer was returned to him " that it was the wish of 
 the house that his lordship should clear his honour 
 from all aspersions cast upon it, and that they prayed 
 he would provide for his defence." * This was most 
 courteous. 
 
 But, as we have seen, he was ill ; and it was to be 
 expected. The frightful exposure which a mind so 
 sensitive, both from his high position and his large 
 sympathies with high fame, must have felt approach- 
 ing, was more terrible than the torture of an Indian 
 at the stake. Yet, though he had to rise from a 
 spot whereon he could say, " All night I make my bed 
 to swim, I water my couch with my tears," he must 
 seek a private audience with the king, his master, 
 For that audience, he had noted down arguments 
 which he would urge; the chief of which we have, 
 however, already given in his more formal letter to 
 his majesty. Of much that transpired at that 
 critical interview we know nothing. There is the 
 greatest historic probability that, notwithstanding the 
 high breeding of Lord Bacon — so truly displayed, as 
 it was, in the midst of his sad dishonour — the coarse 
 mind of king James forced the doomed chancellor to 
 
 1 Journals of Lords, 18, Jac. 1. 
 
lord bacon's fall. 237 
 
 allude to many a reminiscence of that monarch's 
 individual guilt and political self- compromise. Lord 
 Bacon, in his despair, besought the sovereign, whom 
 he had too slavishly served, instantly to dissolve 
 parliament. The king, as urgently, recommended 
 him to submit to the judgment of the peers, and 
 promised him, whatever might be the verdict, rein- 
 statement in his dignities. Bacon exclaimed: " I see 
 my approaching ruin : there is no hope of mercy in 
 a multitude. "When my enemies are to give fire, am 
 I to make no resistance, and is there to be none to 
 shield me ? Those who strike at your chancellor will 
 strike at your crown. I am the first, I wish I may 
 be the last sacrifice." Bacon was a prophet. Per- 
 haps they who think bitterly about him, might be 
 disposed to select from sacred history some re- 
 creant one as his parallel. But, be that as it may, 
 there came before the eye of this seer, whose vision 
 as to future science and future philosophical civiliza- 
 tion was so true, a prospect of misery to the 
 monarchy to Great Britain; one of the incipient 
 causes of which was, a king's collusion with the guilt 
 of a chancellor, whom he deserted when he was found 
 out; and the other was, his slow murder of his 
 relative, Arabella Stuart, who never pretended or 
 wished for a throne, which, but for considerate 
 loyalty to him as the true successor, she might have 
 endangered. 
 
 Let us reverently — for its occupier is one of the 
 most distinguished of men ; let us with sorrowful but 
 
23S lord bacon's fall. 
 
 charitable awe — for its occupier is a fallen great man ; 
 draw aside one fold of the curtains of Lord Bacon's bed, 
 on which he flung himself in self-consuming remorse 
 and despair, after this last fruitless interview with 
 the king. " During several days he remained in his 
 bed, refusing to see any human being. He passion- 
 ately told his attendants to leave him, to forget him, 
 never again to name his name, never to remember 
 that there had been such a man in the world." 1 
 " And is this," he must often, and in heart-breaking 
 bitterness, have said to himself, "is this to be the 
 result of my sixty years of slavery of the brain? 
 "Where are the benisons of my mother, whose heart 
 would burst could she now see me convulsed with 
 dishonour ; where are my grave father's prophecies, 
 who if he now saw the column of his house thus torn 
 of its architrave and severed in its shaft, would wish 
 to lie beneath it as his tomb'; where the gay and hearty 
 cheers of my ancient friends at Gray's Inn ; where the 
 hopes of my noble-minded competitors at the bar; 
 where the shouts of applause of the House of Commons, 
 that dear spot of my true renown ; where the confi- 
 dences in me of men of science ; where the words of 
 ' God speed' with which my mother university sent 
 me, a second time, from her bosom ; where are my 
 friends; where is the God whose statutes I have, 
 against light and knowledge, so basely deserted ? Are 
 these, all these, now watching to upbraid me on this 
 my living bier? " Thou once great, now fallen, man ! 
 
 1 Ztlontagne's Life of Bacon, cccxxviii. 
 
LOED bacon's fall. 239 
 
 we would commit no act, take no step of lightness 
 towards thy couch. But thy first great Essay was on 
 "Truth:" for Truth, melancholy though were thy 
 wanderings, thou didst press onward with more 
 avidity, and didst gain a higher summit than any 
 other uninspired man : tell us, are not these thy moral 
 throes, the struggles of a conscience which was in thy 
 bosom, although thou hadst imprisoned her? And 
 are the words which thy lips utter, the reassertions 
 of honour and of truth, which once thou didst love 
 so well ? 
 
 During this frightful paroxysm, he wrote that 
 full confession to the House of Lords, from which 
 we have already quoted. It was dexterous in 
 some of its allusions ; but it would be the grossest 
 uncharitabieness to charge them with false self- 
 palliating design. "When it was read, it was resolved 
 " that certain lords do go unto the lord chancellor, 
 and show him the said confession, and tell him that 
 the lords do conceive it to be an ingenuous and full 
 confession, and demand whether it be his own hand 
 that is subscribed to the same?" In his interview 
 with those lords, twelve in number, who in con- 
 sequence of this resolution waited on him, he 
 answered their questionings with the words : " lly 
 lords, it is my act, my hand, my heart. I beseech 
 your lordships to be merciful to a broken reed." 1 
 
 He retired anew to his bed, full of compunction 
 and overwhelmed with shame. The great seal was 
 
 * Works, iv. p. 547. 
 
240 lord bacon's fall. 
 
 necessarily demanded of him, and hiding his face 
 with one hand, he delivered it back with the other, 
 to the commissioners who had been appointed to 
 receive it. 
 
 Now came his formal degradation. His office as 
 lord chancellor was sequestered. Then, by the 
 officials of the House of Lords, he was summoned 
 to receive in his person the judgment of his peers. 
 These officials reported to have found him ill in bed, 
 and "that he declared he feigned not this for an 
 excuse ; for that, if able, he would willingly have 
 obeyed the summons, but that it was wholly im- 
 possible for him to attend." His judges, the peers, 
 both humanely and courteously accepted his excuses. 
 But they felt themselves bound to proceed to the 
 sentence, even though he was absent : — 
 
 "1. That the Lord Yiscount St. Alban should pay 
 a fine of £40,000. 
 
 "2. That he should be imprisoned in the Tower 
 during the king's pleasure. 
 
 "3. That he should be for ever incapable of holding 
 any public office, place, or employment. 
 
 "4. That he should never sit in parliament, nor 
 come within the verge of the court." 1 
 
 Extreme as this judgment was, amounting as it 
 did to the most complete humiliation, we have no 
 right to think that it was the dictate of any other 
 principle than that of justice. Indeed, it should 
 never be overlooked as national characteristics, that 
 
 1 Works, iv. p. 549. May 3d., 1621. 
 
lokd bacon's fall. 24 i 
 
 tenderness of feeling and lenity of punishment have 
 ever distinguished a British judgment-seat, unless 
 a Coke or a Jeffery may have had incidental influ- 
 ence on popular, but transient, emotions. We cannot 
 agree with some biographers of Lord Bacon, that 
 the lords purposely passed a judgment on him, the 
 very severity of which made its execution impos- 
 sible. Not to speak c. the legislative straightfor- 
 wardness of our country, especially in those acts 
 which are preeminently national, it is obvious that 
 the House of Lords has been generally distinguished 
 as a calm, deliberative, not impulsive assembly ; an 
 institute which, the author believes, is as important 
 for the people as it is for the crown. 
 
 Lord Bacon endured this sentence, but with those 
 modifications which his sovereign could now safely 
 exercise ; modifications which, probably, he brought 
 to bear upon his deserted friend, simply from fear 
 of the consequences of driving him to inconvenient 
 exasperation. The imprisonment in the Tower was 
 relieved after the second day ; the fine was remitted ; 
 and the degraded and disgraced ex-chancellor was 
 allowed to repair to his own paternal mansion at 
 Gorhambury. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 LOED BACON IN RETIREMENT ON HIS DISGRACE. 
 
 He had been ill, as we have stated heretofore, during 
 those investigations which wrought his humiliation 
 and his ruin. After judgment had been passed upon 
 him, that illness was fearfully aggravated. His 
 vigour of mind, however, enabled him to rally, and on 
 the thirty-first of May, 1621, he was found to be in 
 a condition to meet the first form of his punishment, 
 and to be borne as a prisoner to the Tower. "A 
 barge was privately ordered to the stairs of York 
 House, and the tide suiting early in the morning, so 
 that London Bridge might be conveniently shot, he 
 was quietly conducted by the sheriff of Middlesex to 
 the Traitor's Gate, and there, with the warrant for 
 his imprisonment, delivered to the lieutenant of the 
 Tower." 1 By this arrangement he was spared a 
 painful ordeal, for his judges allowed him to be 
 transported to his cell so as to escape observation 
 But what, in addition to his own individual griefs, 
 must he not have suffered when he crossed its moat ! 
 
 1 Campbell, ii. p. 407. 
 
BACON EN' EETIEEAEENT. 243 
 
 TVithin those avails had groaned and died men, the 
 incarceration of some of whom, the tortures of others, 
 had been the results of either his own weak collusion 
 with the despotism of the crown, or of his own 
 personal adjudication. His first act, after he had 
 reposed awhile upon the kind couch which the 
 authorities had considerately ordered for him, was to 
 write to Buckingham thus : — 
 
 " Good my lord, 
 
 "Procure the warrant for my discharge this day. 
 Death, I thank God, is so far from being unwelcome to m 
 I have called for it (as Christian resolution would permit) any 
 time these two months. But to die before the time of his 
 majesty's grace, and in this disgraceful place, is even the worst 
 that could be ; and when I am dead, he is gone that was always 
 in one tenor a true and perfect servant to his master, and one 
 that was never author of any immoderate, no, nor unsafe, no, 
 (I will say it) nor unfortunate counsel, and one that no temp- 
 tation would ever make other than a trusty, and honest, and 
 Christ-loving friend to your lordship ; and (howsoever I acknow- 
 ledge the sentence just, and for reformation sake fit) the ju 
 chancellor that hath been in the five changes since Sir Nicholas 
 Bacon's time. God bless and prosper your lordship, whatsoever 
 becomes of me. 
 
 "Tour lordship's true friend, Uving and dying, 
 
 " Francis S t - Alea2,-. 
 « Tower, 31«-Jfeft 1621." 
 
 This letter is a study for the Christian moralist. 
 First of all, when Lord Bacon avows his distaste with 
 life, his wish for death, a merely common reasoner 
 upon the natural action of the passions of the heart 
 
244 BACON IN EETIEEMENT. 
 
 may think himself able to account for it. Then, too, 
 the reader of Holy Scripture may find recalled to 
 him the words of Job : " Wherefore is light given to 
 him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in 
 soul : which long for death, but it cometh not ; and 
 dig for it more than for hid treasures ; which rejoice 
 exceedingly, and are glad when they can find the 
 grave ?"* Eut these were the longings of an unholy 
 impatience into which even Job was betrayed. The 
 right Christian feeling under such circumstances, 
 especially when they have been caused by sin, should 
 be to desire life, in order to repentance and faith in 
 Christ, and that, by the grace of God, the future 
 might be spent in "works meet for repentance." 
 
 And further: how sadly significant of a soul 
 humbled merely by a sense of shame, not by a godly 
 sorrow for guilt, are the allusions in this letter to 
 the disgracefulness of the spot in which he might 
 have to meet death ! as if that could, for a moment, 
 enter into the calculation of any mind really awake 
 to the absorbing consequences in prospect, and really 
 intent upon the attainment of " the forgiveness of 
 sins!" 
 
 And further: it were difficult to find a more 
 striking instance of a soul striving to answer con- 
 science by self-righteous palliation. Lord Bacon — in 
 the face of the judgment of his country, in the face 
 of his own confessions- — calls himself "a true and 
 perfect servant;" as "never author of any immode- 
 
 i Job iii. 20-22. 
 
BAC0X IX RETIKEMKNT. 245 
 
 rate, no, nor unsafe, no, nor unfortunate counsel;" 
 as a "Christ-loving friend;" as "the justest chan- 
 cellor" since his father's time! Oh, would that, 
 instead of these proud self-defences, he had simply 
 smitten his breast and cried, " God be merciful to me 
 a sinner!" 
 
 It was at this moment, when Lord Bacon had 
 reached the nadir of his disgrace, that the prince of 
 Wales (afterward Charles i.) showed that delicate 
 sympathy with fallen greatness, and that charity 
 of heart, which should go far to redeem many of his 
 subsequent errors. He seems to have been a perfect 
 contrast to his royal ifather in delicacy of sentiment 
 and language ; in generous appreciation of the noble 
 qualities of others ; in true taste for science and the 
 arts ; in chivalry ; in courage ; in everything save an 
 egregious estimate of his prerogative, and a moral 
 obliquity about the means by which that prerogative 
 was to be sustained. He used his powerful influence 
 on behalf of the broken- spirited ex-chancellor, on a 
 parent with whom no influence whatever should 
 have been necessary in the cause of pity for a man 
 whose genius had ennobled his reign, and whose 
 degradation was the result of sins, many of which he 
 had committed chiefly for his monarch. Whilst the 
 councillors of the crown dared not, though they 
 wished it, to advise his majesty to liberate the 
 imprisoned, Prince Charles gallantly came forward, 
 and was successful. And though we are behind but 
 few in the most severe regrets at his conduct when 
 
246 bacoit nsr retirement. 
 
 upon the throne, we would beg our readers, in their 
 comprehensive estimate of the doings of this unhappy 
 sovereign, to remember the fact before us. Had he 
 not thus generously interfered, that spirit which is 
 the intellectual glory of Great Britain would have 
 lost its lustre, and gone out amidst the fetid vapours 
 of the Tower. We should have lost perhaps its most 
 sunny irradiation; above all, we should have lost 
 those tears through which (and we hope against 
 hope) its very brightness refracted a rainbow of holy 
 peace with the world, and with his God. 
 
 Lord Bacon's acknowledgments to the young 
 prince are very affecting. # 
 
 u It may please your highness, 
 
 " When I call to mind how infinitely I am bound 
 to your highness, that stretched forth your arm to save me 
 from a sentence ; that took hold of me to keep me from being 
 plunged deep in a sentence ; that hath kept me alive in your 
 gracious memory and mention since the sentence ; pitying ins 
 as I hope I deserve, and valuing me far above that I can 
 deserve ; I find my words almost as barren as my fortunes, to 
 express unto your highness the thankfulness I owe ; therefore, 
 I can but resort to prayers to Almighty God to clothe you with 
 his most rich and precious blessing, and likewise joyfully to 
 meditate upon those he hath conferred upon you already ; in 
 that he hath made you to the king your father, a principal part 
 of his safety, contentment, and continuance : in yourself so 
 judicious, accomplished, and graceful in all your doings, with 
 more virtues in the buds (which are the sweetest) than have 
 been known in a young prince of long time ; with the realm so 
 well beloved, so much honoured, as it is men's daily observation 
 how nearly you approach to his majesty's perfections; how 
 every day you exceed yourself; how, compared with other 
 
BACON LN* EETTRE^ENT. 247 
 
 young princes which God hath ordained to be young at this 
 time, you shine amongst them ; they rather setting off your 
 religious, moral, and natural excellencies, than matching them, 
 though you be but a second person. These and such like 
 meditations I feed upon, since I can yield your highness no 
 other retribution. And for myself I hope, by the assistance of 
 God above, of whose grace and favour I have had extraordinary 
 signs and effects during my afflictions, to lead such a life in the 
 last acts thereof, as whether his majesty employs me, or whether 
 I live to myself, I shall make the world say that I was not 
 unworthy such a patron. 
 
 "I am much beholden to your highness's worthy servant, 
 Sir John Vaughan, the sweet air and loving usage of whose 
 house hath already much revived my languishing spirits; I 
 beseech your highness thank him for me. God ever preserve 
 and prosper your highness. 
 
 " Your highness' s most humble and 
 most bounden servant, 
 
 " 1 June, 1621. "F tt - S T - Albany"' 1 
 
 From this letter, it may be gathered that Prince 
 Charles had not only shown his friendship for the suf- 
 ferer after he became a captive, but had, previously 
 to his condemnation, exerted himself, though fruit- 
 lessly, to prevent it. Lord Bacon was, in con- 
 sequence, detained only two days in the Tower, and 
 was allowed to repair to the beautiful villa of Sir John 
 Yaughan, an officer in the household of the prince. 
 
 One might have expected that this kindly and 
 unhoped-for retreat, after so momentous and humi- 
 liating a crisis, would have been spent, and for a long 
 time, in thoughts too retrospective, too penitential, 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 553. 
 
248 BACOJT IN" RETIREMENT. 
 
 and in their influence upon his future purposes too 
 lowly and too self- distrustful, to allow the presence 
 of ambition for one second. If he had felt, as he 
 ought to have felt, he would have shunned for ever 
 the reintroduction of his name to public notice, save 
 when it was an inevitable condition of his promoting, 
 and in the worthiest sense, the benefit of the com- 
 monwealth. This would have been one result of a 
 right repentance. We grieve to say, that he was no 
 sooner saved from the brink which had been so pre- 
 cipitous, than he began to cast his eyes about him for 
 his future and worldly-minded projects. The careful 
 student of the human heart will, almost instinctively, 
 perceive how little this can consist with "the broken 
 and contrite spirit," which must, as a necessity of 
 nature, shun notoriety, much less seek it. But to 
 this he had not attained; and it can be known to 
 "the Searcher of hearts" only, whether, in after 
 days, he became, though a slow, yet a willing disciple 
 in a school, at the antipodes of that in which he 
 had become the master. 
 
 Surely it was now the time, if ever there was a 
 time, in which he could have wholly satisfied his 
 large soul, by that entire seclusion from public agita- 
 tion, after which he had so uniformly and so earnestly 
 been panting. Still, moral justice must hesitate as 
 to whether or no he was anxious to repair back to all 
 that tumult of life, of the vanity of which he had 
 been made so ruefully conscious, simply with the hope 
 that his future career might, by its self-denial and 
 
BACON IN EETIHE^IENT. 249 
 
 honest exactitude and equity, redeem the delinquen- 
 cies of the past. That he was resolved, if possible, 
 to combine both the continuation of his vast intel- 
 lectual purposes with the reattainment of political 
 greatness, will be evident from the following letters. 
 It must be observed that they were written during 
 his brief retreat at the villa of Sir John Yaughan. 
 
 u TO THE KING. 
 
 " It may please your most excellent majesty, 
 
 " I humbly thank your majesty for my liberty, 
 without which timely grant, any further grace would have come 
 too late. But your majesty, that did shed tears in the begin- 
 ning of my trouble, will, I hope, shed the dew of your grace 
 and goodness upon me in the end. Let me live to serve you, 
 else life is but the shadow of death to 
 
 *' Your majesty's most obedient servant, 
 
 "F»- S T - Alban. 
 "4 June, 1621." 
 
 On the same day he writes 
 
 "TO THE MARQUIS OF BUCKINGHAM. 
 
 " My very good lord, 
 
 " I heartily thank your lordship for getting me 
 
 out of prison : and now my body is out, my mind nevertheless 
 
 will be still in prison, till I may be on my feet to do his majesty 
 
 and your lordship faithful service. Wherein your lordship, by 
 
 the grace of God, shall find that my adversity hath neither 
 
 spent nor pent my spirits. God prosper you. 
 
 " Your lordship's most obliged friend 
 
 and faithful servant, 
 
 " Fk. S T - Alban. » 
 "■LJune, 1621." 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 553. 
 
250 BACON IN RETIREMENT. 
 
 To the Count Gondomar, on the sixth of June, he 
 writes : — 
 
 "Now indeed both my age, the state of my fortune, and 
 also that my genius, which I have hitherto so parsimoniously 
 satisfied, call me, as I depart from the theatre of public affairs, 
 to devote myself to letters ; to marshal the intellectual actors of 
 the present, and to help those of future time. Perchance that 
 will be my honour ; and I may pass the remainder of my life as 
 if in the vestibule of a better one." l 
 
 Eow it cannot be questioned that these letters — so 
 remarkably irreeoncileable in their spirit and purpose, 
 written too at a moment of such critical escape, that 
 then, if ever, the singleness of intention was to be 
 expected — -display a most painful oscillation of moral 
 character* Of that grave defect in Lord Bacon we 
 have had too many instances, but never so seriously 
 conclusive an one as the present. There may have 
 been, doubtless there were, a thousand reasons for his 
 desire to reenter on political life ; but we cannot forego 
 the recollection that he had made a public confession, 
 as a defaulter, before the highest tribunal of his 
 country; and it would have been more consonant 
 with the views which we have of "godly sorrow, " 
 if he had courted solitude for every reason ; sustained, 
 as he was, against that ennui of solitude which is 
 so repellent to most men, in his not only having 
 
 i This is, of course, a free translation of his own words, in his Latin 
 letter: "Me vero jam vocat et setus, et fortuna, atque etiam genius 
 meus, cui adhuc satis morose satisfeci, ut excedens e theatro rerum 
 civiliurn Uteris me dedam, et ipsos actores instruam, et posteritati ser- 
 viam. Id mini fortasse nonori erit, et degain tanquam. in atriis vitse 
 melioris." Works, vi. p. 287. 
 
BACON IN EETIBEMENT. 251 
 
 resources, but purposes, for which that solitude was 
 essential. 
 
 He was, meanwhile, though so ambitious in his 
 thoughts and refined in his sensibilities, to be ob- 
 noxious to another but more degrading order of 
 influences. He was yielding his mighty heart, 
 alternately, to the voices of power and of science; 
 but in the midst of this dalliance, such as had never 
 before, perhaps, been played by any human soul, the 
 voice of his creditors was heard; and that voice, 
 from its very dissonance, was audible. Bacon, in the 
 midst of griefs, was compelled to listen to the com- 
 paratively trivial, but instant authority of other 
 claims. He was in ruinous and indefensible debt. 
 
 He was no sooner enlarged from the Tower than 
 his creditors beset him; and with, possibly, an 
 honest purpose of obtaining the facility of being 
 on the spot for arranging his affairs, he besought 
 leave to remove from the country to York House, his 
 own London house. There was still remaining to 
 him his faithful secretary, Sir Thomas Meautys; and, 
 through him, he applied to the crown for the per- 
 mission. In this case the good offices of the prince 
 of Wales were useless. His petition was refused, 
 on the ground that he had been condemned " not to 
 come within the verge of the court." He was then 
 ordered to retire to Gorhambury, and not to leave it 
 until his majesty's pleasure. 
 
 This unnecessary severity in king James would be 
 difficult to explain, did we not know that both the 
 
252 BACON IN EETIEEMENT. 
 
 king and Buckingham had, from some short time 
 before Lord Bacon's impeachment, come under the 
 influence of a high ecclesiastical functionary, Wil- 
 liams, who was successively dean of Westminster, 
 then his lordship's successor as lord keeper of the 
 great seal, then bishop of Lincoln, and, finally, 
 archbishop of York. As the now lord keeper, it 
 was his policy to keep his disgraced predecessor out 
 of sight. Before this he had most astutely, it may be 
 hoped not maliciously, advised his sovereign to leave 
 the lord chancellor as a solitary, unbefriended victim: 
 and we shall, hereafter, have to remark upon various 
 sinister influences which he exerted upon the re- 
 awakening energies of Lord Bacon. 
 
 Again, we must say, we should, for the sake of 
 his dignity, have rejoiced if he had yielded himself, all 
 genially, to the retreat and associations of his elegant 
 and learned seat at Gorhambury. But, afresh, his 
 aspirations after a public neighbourhood and all its 
 probable chances, made him wretched and restless. 
 
 " TO THE MARQUIS OP BUCKINGHAM. 
 
 " My very good lord, 
 
 " I thank God I am come very well to Gorham- 
 bury, whereof I thought your lordship would be glad to hear 
 sometimes. My lord, I wish myself by you in this stirring 
 world, not for any love to place or business, for that is almost 
 gone with me, but for my love to yourself, which can never 
 cease in 
 
 " Your lordship's most obliged friend, and true servant, 
 
 " F R - S T - Alban. » 
 1 Works, v. p. 557. 
 
BACON 1ST KETIEEMENT. 253 
 
 "Being now out of use, and out of sight, I recommend 
 myself to your lordship's love and favour, to maintain me in 
 his majesty's grace and good intention." 
 
 To this there followed several piteous letters to 
 the king, and one to the prince of Wales ; at last, as 
 a last and almost hopeless movement, he addressed 
 the House of Lords thus : — 
 
 "I am old, weak, ruined, in want, a very subject of pity. 
 My only suit to your lordships is, to show me your noble favour 
 towards the release of my confinement, to me, I protest, worse 
 than the Tower. There I could have company, physicians, 
 conference with my creditors and friends about my debts, and 
 the necessities of my estate, helps for my studies, and the works 
 I have in hand. Here I live upon the sword point of a sharp 
 air, endangered as I go abroad, dulled if I stay within, solitary 
 and comfortless, without company, banished from all opportuni- 
 ties to treat with any to do myself good, and to help out my 
 wrecks ; and that which is one of my greatest griefs, my wife, 
 that hath been no partaker of my offending, must be paraker 
 
 of this misery of my restraint Herein your lordships 
 
 shall do a work of charity and nobility ; you shall do me good ; 
 you shall do my creditors good ; and, it may be, do posterity 
 good, if out of the carcass of dead and rotten greatness, as 
 out of Samson's lion, there may be honey gathered for the use 
 of future times." 1 
 
 These prayers so pathetic in themselves, and 
 coming from lips that had for so many years 
 charmed senates, advised a monarch, advocated or 
 confirmed laws, and promulgated a new constitution 
 to the world of science, must touch the very core of 
 the heart of pity. But although they may have 
 
 1 Works, vi. p. 294. 
 
254 BACON IN RETIREMENT. 
 
 drawn tears from the sovereign, and shamed Buck- 
 ingham into a few impulsive efforts to befriend the 
 suppliant ; though they did find a generous response 
 in the bosom of the prince of Wales; though the 
 house of peers were nobly anxious to save a fallen 
 brother from being trampled on ; yet high reasons of 
 state-consideration for the public clamour, and chiefly, 
 the insidious intrigues of Bishop Williams (the lord 
 keeper), rendered them fruitless. He was still de- 
 tained in a species of imprisonment at Gorhambury, 
 till the spring of the following year. 
 
 He was now, most certainly, reduced to urgent 
 straits for money. What property he had was se- 
 questered by the heavy fine which had been pro- 
 nounced upon him. His creditors increased in the 
 number and sternness of their demands. He was 
 driven to confess in a letter to Buckingham : " I have 
 lived hitherto upon the scraps of my former fortunes; 
 and I shall not be able to hold out longer. There- 
 fore I hope your lordship will now, according to the 
 loving promises and hopes given, settle my poor for- 
 tunes, or rather my being." To the prince of Wales, 
 he wrote : "My humble suit to your highness, that 
 I may be thought on for means to subsist." To the 
 king : "I have been the keeper of your seal, and 
 am now your beadsman. Let your own royal heart, 
 and my noble friend, speak the rest." 
 
 To judge rightly of the conduct of Lord Bacon at 
 this moment, we must ask — Had he any other plan to 
 adopt, in order both to obtain a prospect of honestly 
 
LACO^" EN" EETEREMEXT. 25 5 
 
 meeting his obligations, and to provide for the posi- 
 tive wants of his household ? If he had not, much 
 of the scorn which history has thrown around his 
 dejection and his subserviency, ought to have been 
 withheld, and ought now to be withdrawn. The 
 hands of government were upon his property for the 
 fine of £40,000 ; he had lost all his former lucrative 
 offices; his estate was most heavily burdened, the 
 weight of which we shall perceive hereafter. There 
 were now awakened within him those feelings of 
 pecuniary responsibility which had been lulled asleep 
 during the fascination of past years. He never had 
 been, as he ought to have been, as every man among 
 us ought to be, alive to the moral significance which 
 attaches itself to all money transactions ; but he was 
 now beginning to perceive it, and to feel anxiety 
 lest the shame of overlooking it should be added 
 to other degradations of his name. If then, amidst 
 the weakness attendant on his lost self-respect, 
 he somewhat pusiHaiiimously contended with this 
 new peril, and availed himself of those forms of con- 
 flict with it which a less self-reproached man would 
 have disdained, let us not consider him as beyond 
 the pale of those laws of our human nature which 
 charitably admit the struggles of the impotent, and 
 which forbid us to cast them into ridicule. 
 
 We do not say this with the intent to show that 
 Lord Bacon ever became fully conscious of his duty 
 on this point, important as it was. It appears to us 
 that, from his early manhood until his death, even 
 
256 BACON IN RETIEE3IENT. 
 
 in his last testament, there was a strange oversight 
 of the laws of pecuniary rectitude. It was but a few 
 years after his father's death that he became an 
 inmate of the debtor's jail, and that alone must 
 have done rude violence to the delicacy of his 
 moral texture. And throughout his more prosperous 
 days, even when his income was large and always 
 rapidly increasing, he seems to have proportion- 
 ately exceeded it. It matters not, as a question of 
 virtue, whether or no his expenditure was lavish 
 from a love of display, or from a spirit of cordial 
 partnership in enjoyment with those who were 
 around him. He was ever in pecuniary difficulties. 
 Those difficulties as constantly laid him open to 
 temptations to seize upon every possible facility for 
 extrication. They also made a high sense of honour 
 impossible. And after our most anxious, almost 
 reverential, desire to find out less criminatory rea- 
 sons for his numerous failings, we feel compelled 
 to attribute to his pressure for money, much of 
 his mean canvassing for promotion during the reign 
 of queen Elizabeth ; much of his false play in the 
 desertion of his friend Lord Essex; much of his 
 guilty collusion with the acts of king James and 
 Lord Buckingham; much of his ruinous receipt of 
 gifts in the court of justice; much of that pusil- 
 lanimity which we are now more immediately re- 
 cording; and much of that profusion in the midst of 
 poverty, which we shall have to record hereafter. 
 What a solemn warning to us all, and especially 
 
BACON IN RETIREMENT. 257 
 
 to the young candidate for success in life and for 
 "a good name, which is better than great riches/' 
 that many of the follies and crimes, and much of 
 the degradation of this noble genius, may be at- 
 tributed to his want of financial exactitude and 
 uprightness. It may be called one of the minor 
 vices, but it has often asserted its fearful energy, 
 both in public and in private life, by its sapping the 
 most exalted virtues. 
 
 Lord Bacon was, at length, successful in obtaining 
 a release from his rural imprisonment at Gorham- 
 bury, and the king issued a permit to him to repair 
 to London. Buckingham had triumphed over Bishop 
 Williams, and had fulfilled his promise: "I will 
 move his majesty to take commiseration of your long 
 imprisonment, which, in some respects, both you 
 and I have reason to think harder than the Tower ; 
 you for the help of physic, your parley with your cre- 
 ditors, your conference for your writings and studies, 
 dealing with friends about your business; and I 
 for this advantage, to be sometimes happy in visiting 
 and conversing with your lordship, whose company 
 I am desirous to enjoy." 1 
 
 It is not necessary for us to extract the excited 
 language with which he thanked Lord Buckingham 
 and the king, for this amelioration of his punish- 
 ment. Some ancient feelings of good-will towards 
 his miserable ex-chancellor, seemed to have returned 
 to the bosom of the monarch ; for, by his express 
 
 i Works, v. p. 561. 
 
258 BACON IN EETIEEMENT. 
 
 authority, the whole of the heavy fine was remitted; 
 a pension of £1200 a year was assigned to him; 
 and he was allowed to draw an annual sum of £600 
 from the Alienation office. By this gracious arrange- 
 ment he became, with the aid of a rental of £700 
 from his own estate, in the receipt of £2500 a year, 
 a large income for that period. 
 
 Further : as another proof of his gradual restora- 
 tion to the sovereign's favour, he received a signed 
 warrant for a pardon, which was only qualified, lest 
 its entireness should challenge the indignation of 
 the country. But even this degree of royal for- 
 giveness would have escaped him, but for the 
 resolution of the king. For no sooner did Bishop 
 "Williams learn that it was contemplated, than he 
 gave it his most strenuous opposition. It happened 
 that, when Lord Bacon's heavy fine was remitted, 
 his property was assigned to trustees for his benefit. 
 History has no right to say that this measure was 
 obtained by Lord Bacon for the purpose of de- 
 frauding his creditors : it must, first, assume that 
 his lordship sought for such protection as would 
 enable him, with equanimity, to adjudicate their 
 claims ; and, secondly, examine whether he honestly 
 availed himself of the advantage. "We shall see. 
 
 But before any human being had a right to 
 pronounce upon the motives of this arrangement, 
 and while it was, as it is still, anything but clear 
 that Lord Bacon had been concerned in making 
 it, Bishop Williams, in defiance of the charity 
 
BACON IN RETIREMENT. 259 
 
 which "hopeth all things," wrote to Lord Bucking- 
 ham the following : — 
 
 u The pardoning of his fine is much spoken against, not 
 for the matter (for no man objects to that), but for the manner, 
 .which is full of knavery, and a wicked precedent. For by this 
 assignation of his fine he is protected from all his creditors, 
 which I dare say was neither his majesty's nor your lordship's 
 meaning. His lordship was too cunning for me. He passed his 
 fine (whereby he hath deceived his creditors) ten days before 
 he presented his pardon to the seal. ,, 1 
 
 As we have said already, the moral point of the 
 question about this movement must, in some measure, 
 be tested by the way in which Lord Bacon thence- 
 forth used the advantages which it gave him, and 
 that must come under our notice hereafter. But the 
 historical point demands our instant investigation. 
 And as this is one of the most serious crises of Lord 
 Bacon's character; as one, too, which has received 
 but little consideration from the historical or 
 biographical writer, we must enter upon it some- 
 what largely. For, if it can be proved that the 
 ex-chancellor, notwithstanding all the solemn warn- 
 ings that he had received of the sin and danger of 
 improbity, did nevertheless lend himself intention- 
 ally to a deed, which was to give him power to live 
 in luxury, and meanwhile to defraud his creditors, 
 then our faintest hopes that he now strove to be 
 upright must be given up. 
 
 In the absence of other documents, we must 
 
 1 Campbell's Lives, ii. p. 411. 
 
260 BACON IN EETIREMENT. 
 
 content ourselves with those which follow; and 
 must, at the same time, incidentally advert to the 
 character of the lord keeper, Bishop "Williams, his 
 successor and accuser. 
 
 In the Cotton library, Titus Book vii, we find — 
 
 " ' ..ANT OF PARDON TO THE VISCOUNT ST. ALB AN, UNDER THE 
 PRIVY SEAL. 
 
 "A special pardon granted unto Francis, Viscount St. 
 Alban, for all felonies done and committed against the common 
 laws and statutes of this realm ; and for all offences of praemu- 
 nire; and for all misprisions, riots, &c, with the restitution of 
 all his lands and goods forfeited by reason of the premises ; 
 except out of the same pardon all treasons, murders, rapes, 
 incest ; and except also all fines, imprisonments, penalties, and 
 forfeitures, adjudged against the said Viscount St. Alban, by a 
 sentence lately made to the parliament. Testo Eege apud 
 Westm. 17 die Octob. anno Regni sui 19. 
 
 " Per lettre de privato sigillo." 
 
 Now it would be as presumptuous as it would be 
 remote from our wish, to enact the high function of 
 the lawyer in a judgment upon the terms of this 
 pardon. To some others it may appear, that the 
 verbal contention of the bar is unnecessary: we 
 regard it as an invaluable safeguard to man's civil 
 rights, which is only imperfect because all human 
 language is imperfect. And one might as reasonably 
 try to smile down the qualifying terms which, as 
 moralists, we imperfectly employ in making moral 
 distinctions, as try to smile down the precautionary 
 term| of our legal phraseology. Nevertheless, we 
 must say that, looking at the words of this document, 
 
BACON IN HEirREilENT. 261 
 
 we think it so casuistic, that we fear some subtle 
 adversary must have prepared it. Had not Bishop 
 Williams protested against even its concession, we 
 might have feared that it was the product of his 
 jealous ingenuity: for with this fault he was, in 
 other cases than that of Lord Bacon, sadly charge- 
 able. This document fails to annul Bacon's con- 
 demnation by the parliament. It goes not to 
 neutralize the penalties which that parliament had 
 inflicted. It is, as far as a civilian may dare to 
 pronounce, a deed which left Lord Eacon open to 
 a future trial, far more than the royal patent left 
 Sir Walter Ealeigh. Some years before, Sir Edward 
 Coke and Sir Francis Eacon had waived that patent 
 with contempt. 
 
 Historic truth demands our especial guardianship 
 of those who, in their misfortunes, could not guard 
 themselves; and therefore we must treat Eishop 
 Williams' conduct towards his fallen predecessor 
 with honest firmness. He excepted against this 
 act of royal mercy. Why? His secret reasons we 
 have already adduced in his letter to Lord Buck- 
 ingham. Why did he not assume the position 
 which the commonest shrewdness would have shown 
 him to be a right reason, for remodelling and, in- 
 evitably, for delaying it ? Because he was disin- 
 genuous ; for, at the very moment that he was, 
 with the utmost malice, conveying the worst sug- 
 gestion against Lord Bacon's honour, he thup writes 
 to him : — 
 
262 BACON IN BETIEEMENT. 
 
 "My very good lord, 
 
 " Having perused a privy seal, containing a pardon 
 for your lordship, and thought seriously thereupon, I find that 
 the passing of the same, the assembly in parliament so near 
 approaching, cannot hut be much prejudicial to the service of 
 the king, to the honour of my lord of Buckingham, to that com- 
 miseration which otherwise would be had of your lordship's 
 present estate, and especially to my judgment and fidelity. I 
 have ever affectionately loved your lordship's many and most 
 excellent good parts and endowments; nor had ever cause to 
 disafFect your lordship's person : so as no respect in the world, 
 beside the former considerations, could have drawn me to add 
 the least affliction or discontentment unto your lordship's pre- 
 sent fortune. May it therefore please your lordship to suspend 
 the passing of this pardon, until the next assembly be over and 
 dissolved ; and I will be then as ready to seal it as your lordship 
 to accept of it ; and, in the meantime, undertake that the king 
 and my lord admiral shall interpret this short delay as a service 
 and respect, issuing wholly from your lordship; and rest, in all 
 other offices whatsoever, 
 
 " Your lordship's faithful servant, 
 
 "Jo. Lincoln, Elect. Custos Sigilli. l 
 
 u Westminster College, Oct, 18, 1621/ ' 
 
 This letter is utterly irreconcileable with even 
 those general laws of courtesy which, in all ages, 
 have been recognised. It was untruthful and per- 
 fidious. We say this, recollecting that we are bound 
 to be as just to the character of Bishop Williams, 
 or that of any other man, as to that of the humbled 
 Lord Bacon. And we have more than political 
 justice, from this conduct of his accuser, to warrant 
 
 l Works, vi. p. 293. 
 
BACON IN EETIEEMENT. 263 
 
 us in the belief, that the charge against the latter 
 was the insinuation of that coward jealousy which 
 is always false. Why did not this lord keeper, 
 authorized both by his spiritual and civil authority, 
 boldly tax the culprit with this crime ? Or why, 
 if the supposed conditions of society restrained 
 him from so doing, did he volunteer to write a 
 letter such as the above, from which no reader, 
 however suspicious he might be, could infer aught 
 but the most reverential cordiality and friend- 
 ship? "We are aware that, in writing thus about 
 Bishop Williams, 1 we are unveiling the sin of one 
 who afterwards bore himself so nobly against Laud ; 
 but we must be first faithful to truth, and then we 
 may be indignant in our anxiety to protect the fallen. 
 Lord Bacon seems to have been, unwontedly for 
 him, suspicious when he had read this letter, and, 
 unwontedly for him, cautious in the way in which 
 he answered it. 
 
 "to the lord keeper. 
 " My very good lord, 
 
 " I know the reasons must appear to your lord- 
 ship many and weighty, which should move you to stop the 
 king's grace, or to dissuade it; and, somewhat the more in re- 
 spect of my person, being, I hope, no unfit subject for noble 
 
 1 John Williams, born in 1582, distinguished for his attainments, had 
 been chaplain to the Lord Chancellor Egerton. Bacon, on his obtaining 
 the great seal, had offered to continue him in the same office, but he 
 declined. He was afterwards made Dean of Westmin-ter, 1620, re- 
 ceived the seals on the disgrace of Lord Bacon, and was made Bishop of 
 Lincoln. He attended king James on his death-bed. At last, degraded 
 by Charles i. by the instigation of Buckingham, his former patron, he 
 was condemned, by the star chamber, to a fine of £10,000, and an im- 
 prisonment during his majesty's pleasure. Finally, when restored to 
 favour, he was made Archbishop of York, 1641. 
 
264 BACON IN EETIEEMEST. 
 
 dealing. The message I received by Mr. Meautys did import 
 inconvenience in the form of pardon; your lordship's last 
 letter, in the time ; for, as for the matter, it lay so fair for his 
 majesty's and my lord of Buckingham's own knowledge, as I 
 conceive your lordship doth not aim at that. My affliction hath 
 made me understand myself better, and not worse ; yet loving 
 advice, I know, helps well. Therefore I send Mr. Meautys 
 to your lordship, that I might reap so much fruit of your lord- 
 ship's professed good affection, as to know in some particular 
 fashion, what it is that your lordship doubteth or disliketh, that 
 I may the better endeavour your satisfaction, or acquiescence, if 
 there be cause." 1 
 
 These intrigues of Bishop "Williams were cut short 
 by a peremptory order from the king, that the 
 pardon, equivocal as it was, should be sealed and 
 sent. Still the permission given to Lord Bacon to 
 remain in London was limited, and we again find 
 him at Gorhambury, as dissatisfied with his lenient 
 exile as ever. Some months which ensued were 
 diversified by his endeavouring to engage Lord 
 Digby's influence with the king on his behalf; by 
 Lord Buckingham's resentment at his seeking the 
 protection of any other than himself; by their 
 mutual correspondence upon this misunderstanding, 
 and mutual negotiations about the transfer of York 
 House. But it is not necessary to give the details, 
 nor to say of the two last circumstances more than 
 that they betrayed a tendency to estrangement on 
 the part of Lord Buckingham, called forth earnest 
 protests from Lord Bacon, and ended in a supineness 
 in the former to aid the latter for the future. 
 
 i Works, vi. p. 294. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LOPJ) bacon's last days akd death. 
 
 The life of Lord Bacon was prolonged for nearly five 
 years after the events with which we closed the last 
 chapter, viz. from October, 1621, to April, 1626. 
 But although, in spite of his many other most urgent 
 prayers for restoration to official life, he had to pass 
 this period in enforced retirement, its records are of 
 the most instructive interest. Perhaps they are the 
 most important of his whole career, for forming a 
 just estimate of what was substantive in his character; 
 for hitherto he had been " walking in a vain show ; " 
 he had been more or less factitious; the perpetual 
 self-conflict between his love of contemplation and 
 his ambition in public life, had divided the integrity 
 of his mind, and made him alternate between the 
 most opposite impulses; above all, his innumerable 
 and varied worldly projects had postponed those 
 religious claims, the value of which he had been 
 taught in early life, but which he had lamentably 
 overlooked, though, it would seem from his writings, 
 never had abjured. 
 
2C6 bacoh's last days. 
 
 One could not have been surprised if the depth of 
 his fall had done rude violence to his intellectual 
 faculties; if bewildered with shame, he had never 
 again felt able to concentrate his attention upon any- 
 thing ; if the degrading cares of his debts had made 
 him spiritless. But not four days had transpired 
 since his condemnation and imprisonment, and while 
 his future was still ominously dark, when we find him 
 in his letter to Count Gondomar planning his literary 
 pursuits. 1 During the first year of his ostracism, he 
 composed an historical work, "The Life and Reign 
 of Henry vii." He finished it at Gorhambury, 
 dedicated it to the prince of Wales, in gratitude for 
 his generous efforts to obtain his pardon, 2 and sent a 
 copy to the queen of Bohemia, with a letter, strongly 
 showing the feelings of a disgraced minister : " Time 
 was, I had honour without leisure ; and now I have 
 leisure without honour." 3 
 
 It is not our purpose to enter on a critical estimate 
 of Lord Bacon's writings ; it will, therefore, be enough 
 for us to remark that this work is considered some- 
 what unworthy of his name. This was to be expected, 
 for, notwithstanding his strong wall, his energies could 
 not as yet have rallied. Nevertheless, his applica- 
 tion was untiring. In this same year, he composed 
 his unfinished dialogue, " An Advertisement touching 
 an Holy War," which he inscribed to Bishop Andrews; 
 and he published the portion of his " Historia Katu- 
 ralis et Experimentalis," entitled " De Ventis," 
 
 1 Works, vi. p. 287. 2 Ibid, v. p. 4. 3 Ibid, vi. p. 328. 
 
bacon's last days. 267 
 
 which is arranged as a portion of the third part of the 
 Instauratio Magna, The next year, 1623, he pub- 
 lished in Latin his work, "De Dignitate et Augmentis 
 Scientiarum;" and also his "Historia Vitse et Mortis. " 
 Various other writings, both in English and Latin, 
 which he now composed, were not given to the world 
 till after his death. But in 1625, besides the new 
 and greatly enlarged edition of his Essays, a very 
 small octavo volume, entitled " Apophthegms," once 
 more gave public note, while he still lived, of the 
 unabated activity of his mind and pen. 1 
 
 Eawley, his most ancient biographer, speaking of 
 these productions, says, without any exaggeration: 
 "Nothing can give a more exalted idea of the fruit- 
 fulness and vigour of his genius, than the number 
 and nature of those writings. Under the discourage- 
 ment of a public censure, broken in his health, 
 broken in his fortunes, he enjoyed his retirement 
 not above five years — a little portion of his time; 
 yet he found means to crowd into it what might 
 have been the whole business, and the glory too, of 
 a long and fortunate life. Some of his former pieces 
 he methodized and enriched; several new ones he 
 composed, no less considerable for the greatness and 
 variety of the arguments he treated, than for his 
 manner of treating them. Nor are they works of 
 mere erudition and labour, that require little else 
 but strength of constitution and obstinate application : 
 
 1 See Craik's "Bacon : his Writings and his Philosophy:" invaluable 
 for its summary of the facts of the life, and its selection from the writings, 
 of Lord Bacon. Vol. i. p. 118. 
 
268 bacon's last days. 
 
 they are original efforts of genius and reflection, 
 on subjects either new, or handled in a manner 
 that makes them so. His notions he drew from his 
 own fund ; and they were solid, comprehensive, 
 systematical; the disposition of his whole plan 
 throwing light and grace on all the particular parts. 
 In considering every subject, he seems to have 
 placed himself in a point of view so advantageous 
 and elevated, that he could from thence discover 
 a whole country round him, and mark out the 
 several spots of it distinctly and with ease. These 
 characters are equally due to the works in which 
 he made some progress, and to those he could only 
 attempt." x 
 
 By a careful study of those Essays which had not 
 appeared before the edition in 1625, most of which 
 we may suppose him to have written during his 
 retirement, we may obtain some insight into his 
 moral interior at this period. They are entitled, "Of 
 Eevenge," "Of Adversity," "Of Simulation and 
 Dissimulation," " Of Envy," "Of Boldness," "Of 
 Seditions and Troubles," " Of Travel," " Of Delays," 
 "Of Innovations," "Of Suspicion," "Of Plantations," 
 "Of Prophecies," "Of Masques and Triumphs," 
 "Of Usury," "Of Building," "Of Gardens," "Of 
 Anger," " Of the Vicissitudes of Things." To this 
 may be added, "A Fragment of an Essay on Fame." 
 Although these subjects are very various, ranging 
 from the most important of our moral acts and emo- 
 
 i Works, i. p. 54. 
 
bacon's LAST DATS. 269 
 
 tions, to forms of conventional life, yet each of 
 them is distinguished with a peculiar "ehiaro 
 oseuro" spirit which we find but seldom in the 
 Essays which he had written previously. They have 
 more sobriety, more pathos; evince a stronger con- 
 viction of the importance of self-control; the vanity 
 of life; the necessity of truthfulness to God and 
 man; the necessity of seclusion for self-knowledge; 
 the advantages of adversity. It is from one of them, 
 the fifth, the well-known and beautiful sentence is 
 taken : " Certainly virtue is like precious odours, 
 most fragrant when they are incensed or crushed; 
 for prosperity doth best discover vice, but adversity 
 doth best discover virtue." 
 
 But that relic of his pen which we value most of 
 all, because it gives us a probable ground to believe 
 that his soul was beginning to be awakened to the 
 true spirit of the gospel, is a prayer, of the authen- 
 ticity and date of which there can be no doubt. The 
 devout Christian will, we are sure, read it with 
 hopeful interest, though with qualified satisfaction ; 
 and we trust that even the mind that withholds 
 acquiescence in its spiritual assumptions and desires, 
 will yet receive it reverentially. It is an address to 
 God, uttered by one of the noblest, if not the noblest 
 and most enlarged human intellects. And what 
 makes it so singularly valuable is this : It contains 
 that truth which this intellect had so long and so 
 firmly received as a speculative theory, now at last 
 possibly interpenetrated with life and emotion. Had 
 
270 bacon's last days. 
 
 Lo ^>acon been an unbeliever up to the time of 
 his j eat sorrows, then the suggestion might be plau- 
 sible that this prayer was only the cry of pain 
 which, from many incidental circumstances, assumed 
 this form of utterance. But those of our readers 
 who have accompanied us in our remarks upon his 
 theology, will concede that either he was a hypocrite 
 even in the religious conclusions of his intellect, or 
 that what had been a sincere but inoperative con- 
 viction, at length asserted its authority, and obtained 
 a voice. 
 
 " Most gracious Lord God, my merciful Father from my 
 youth up, my Creator, my Eedeemer, my Comforter. Thou, 
 Lord, soundest and searchest the depths and secrets of all 
 hearts : thou acknowledgest the upright of heart : thou judgest 
 the hypocrite : thou ponderest men's thoughts and doings as in 
 a balance : thou measurest their intentions as with a line : 
 vanity and crooked ways cannot be hid from thee. 
 
 "Bemember, Lord, how thy servant hath walked before 
 thee : remember what I have first sought, and what hath been 
 principal in my intentions. I have loved thy assemblies . I 
 have mourned for the divisions of thy church : I have delighted 
 in the brightness of thy sanctuary. This vine which thy right 
 hand hath planted in this nation, I have ever prayed unto thee, 
 that it might have the first and the latter rain ; and that it 
 might stretch her branches to the seas and to the floods. The 
 state and bread of the poor and oppressed have been precious 
 in mine eyes : I have hated all cruelty and hardness of heart : 
 I have, though in a despised weed, procured the good of all 
 men. If any have been my enemies, I thought not of them ; 
 neither hath the sun almost set down upon my displeasure ; but 
 I have been as a dove, free from superfluity of maliciousness. 
 Thy creatures have been my books, but thy Scriptures much 
 
bacon's last days. 271 
 
 more. I have sought thee in courts, fields, and gardens ; fe«t I 
 have found thee in thy temples. 
 
 u Thousands have "been my sins, and ten thousands my 1 ns- 
 gressions ; but my sanctifications have remained with me nd 
 my heart, through thy grace, hath been an unquenched coal 
 upon thine altar. Lord, my strength, I have since my youth 
 met with thee in all my ways ; by thy fatherly compassions, by 
 thy comfortable chastisements, and by thy most visible provi- 
 dence. As thy favours have increased upon me, so have thy 
 corrections ; so as thou hast been always near me, Lord ; and 
 ever as my worldly blessings were exalted, so secret darts from 
 thee have pierced me ; and when I have ascended before men, 
 I have descended in humiliation before thee. And now, when 
 I thought most of peace and honour, thy hand is heavy upon me, 
 and hath humbled me according to thy former loving-kindness ; 
 keeping me still in thy fatherly school, not as a bastard, but as 
 a child. Just are thy judgments upon me for my sins, which 
 are more in number than the sands of the sea, but have no pro- 
 portion to thy mercies. For what are the sands of the sea to 
 the sea, 1 earth, heavens? And all these are nothing to thy 
 mercies. Besides my innumerable sins, I confess before thee, 
 that I am debtor to thee for the gracious talent of thy gifts and 
 graces, which I have neither put into a napkin, nor put it, as I 
 ought, to exchangers, where it might have made best profit, but 
 misspent it in things for which I was least fit : so I may truly 
 say, my soul hath been a stranger in the course of my pilgrim- 
 age. Be merciful unto me, Lord, for my Saviour's sake, and 
 receive me into thy bosom, or guide me in thy ways." 2 
 
 "We grieve to see, that in some portions of this 
 prayer the phraseology is sadly self-complacent, 
 and therefore unbefitting utter humiliation before 
 Grod. We do not, cannot defend it. Even the 
 parallel cases in which Job and David recounted 
 
 l Craik's Bacon, vol. i. p. 167. 2 Works, vol. ii. p. 489. 
 
272 bacon's last days. 
 
 some of the features of their conduct will not justify, 
 however much they may have suggested it. "My 
 foot," said Job, "hath held his steps, his way have 
 I kept, and not declined. Neither have I gone back 
 from the commandment of his lips ; I have esteemed 
 the words of his mouth more than my necessary 
 food." 1 And David exclaimed : "Lord, my heart is not 
 haughty, nor mine eyes lofty ; neither do I exercise 
 myself in great matters, or in things too high for 
 me." 2 We say such parallels as these may have 
 suggested, but they do not justify those in the 
 prayer before us. But it might be that Bacon 
 intended them as humble appeals to his Omniscient 
 Maker against the unmeasured charges which were 
 heaped upon him by his enemies, some of w T hich 
 were true, others unquestionably false. Or, even 
 admitting their spiritual imperfection in the strongest 
 sense, they are intermingled with confessions so 
 thoughtfully comprehensive and so penitent, that 
 we cannot withhold our hope that, in the best 
 sense, the general animus of the prayer was that 
 " of a broken and a contrite heart." Nevertheless, 
 it gives us but qualified satisfaction. If Lord Bacon 
 had never heard of the sacrifice and intercession of 
 Christ, or if he had rejected them from his creed, he 
 could not have more utterly ignored their existence 
 and their infinite value to a guilty sinner, than he 
 has done in this prayer, save when, at the very 
 close, he pleads with God "for his Saviour's sake." 
 
 1 Job xxiii. 11, 12. * Psalm cxxxi. 1. 
 
bacon's last days. 273 
 
 Ve advert to this, not from thinking that any re- 
 iteration of the name and merits of the Redeemer is, 
 of itself, any proof of true Christian repentance ; but 
 from the assurance which we feel that, where there 
 -is true Christian repentance, such reiteration is 
 inevitable. How can any soul that is earnest in its 
 suit for pardon — that, from its very earnestness, seeks 
 about for every presumption that it may possibly 
 succeed — fail to dwell long, yea incessantly, upon the 
 fact which it acknowledges ; namely, that Christ is 
 " able to save them to the uttermost that come unto 
 God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make inter- 
 cession for them!" Add to this, we must deplore 
 many expressions which are scattered through this 
 prayer; such as, "Remember, Lord, how thy 
 servant hath walked before thee : remember what I 
 have first sought, and what hath been principal in 
 my intentions:" "If any have been my enemies, I 
 thought not of them, neither hath the sun almost 
 set down upon my displeasure ; but I have been as 
 a dove, free from superfluity of maliciousness." 
 Considerations such as these warrant us in the fear 
 that, as yet, the suppliant was far from sufficiently 
 aware of the spirituality of the divine law ; of his 
 own flagrant breach of it ; and of his utter helpless- 
 ness without the righteousness of Christ. 
 
 We have said above, that this prayer gives us a 
 
 probable ground to trust that his soul was heginning 
 
 to be awakened to the true spirit of the gospel : if 
 
 such was the fact, then, although he has confirmed 
 
 s 
 
274 bacon's last days 
 
 it by no records, we feel sure that in his later 
 moments he abjured all such self- exculpations, and 
 clung, with the tenacity of life, to the cross of Christ 
 as the only hope set before him in the gospel. 
 
 And should it be that any of our readers still 
 maintain that the bitterest invectives against Lord 
 Bacon have been deserved, we will nevertheless 
 contend for it, as the sublime prerogative of the 
 Holy Spirit, that by the shedding down the in- 
 fluences of the gospel upon this sered and withered 
 heart, he could have first fitted that heart as soil, and 
 then made it productive of "the fruits of righte- 
 ousness." If Christianity has not this renovating 
 power; or if that renovating power is restricted 
 only to the earliest moments of our consciousness, 
 then the ultimate perfection of an inconceivable 
 majority of men must be hopeless. 
 
 By these references to the religious life of the 
 five years of his retirement, we are far from pre- 
 tending that Lord Bacon thoroughly, and for ever, 
 abjured all those tastes and tendencies which dis- 
 figured the career of his ambition. "We must mention 
 some of their outbursts. They, however, are not 
 such as to invalidate our hope in the honesty and 
 truth of his repentance. They betray indeed a 
 feverish impatience for public life; but the com- 
 monest charity must trust, that he sought after it 
 chiefly with the desire of redeeming his public 
 character, by future exemplariness and patriotic 
 devotion. There may have been also, and we believe 
 
BACONS LAST DAYS. 275 
 
 there was, a desire for such emoluments as might 
 help him to repay his creditors. Further, there 
 was naturally at work that lingering attachment to 
 ancient courses which, with a spirit of almost pro- 
 phetic anticipation, he had described in his essay 
 "Of Great Place." "It is a strange desire, to seek 
 power and to lose liberty ; or to seek power over 
 others, and to lose power over a man's self. The 
 rising into place is laborious ; and by pains men 
 come to greater pains ; and it is sometimes base ; 
 and by indignities men come to dignities. The 
 standing is slippery, and the regress is either a 
 downfall, or at least an eclipse, which is a melan- 
 choly thing. . . . Nay, retire men cannot when 
 they would; neither will they when it were reason; 
 but a/re impatient of privateness, even in age and sick- 
 ness, which require the shadow : like old townsmen, that 
 will he still sitting at their street door, though thereby 
 they offer age to scorn''' 
 
 He had made numerous though vain endeavours 
 to obtain a personal interview with the king. This 
 was wise ; for there was the highest probability that 
 the sight of an ancient and faithful servant and that 
 the very sound of his voice — which would have been 
 irresistible in its pathos and prayers — could not but 
 sway a master who was far from being personally 
 unfriendly to him. But, partly through the con- 
 siderations of sound policy, partly through the jealous 
 animosity of Bishop Williams, and chiefly from the 
 estrangement of the all-powerful Buckingham, this 
 
276 bacon's last days. 
 
 boon was for a long time delayed. At length the last 
 obstacle was removed. But before that, king James 
 had received from him a letter so evidently heart- 
 broken, that we cannot agree with those who charge 
 it with pusillanimity. We cannot give it entire, for 
 it is too long ; but its close may suffice to show its 
 tenor and its spirit : — 
 
 " Help me, dear sovereign lord and master, and pity me so 
 far as that I, that have borne a bag, be not now in my age 
 forced in effect to bear a wallet, and that I that desire to live by 
 study, may not be driven to study to live I" 1 
 
 Again : — 
 
 " For now it is thus with me : I am a year and half old in 
 misery : though I must ever acknowledge, not without some 
 mixture of your majesty's grace and mercy : for I do not think 
 it possible, that any one whom you once loved, should be 
 totally miserable. Mine own means, through mine own impro- 
 vidence, are poor and weak, little better than my father left me. 
 The poor things that I have had from your majesty, are rather 
 in question, or at courtesy. My dignities remain marks of 
 your past favour, but burdens of my present fortune. The poor 
 remnant which I had of my former fortune, in plate or jewels, 
 I have spread upon poor men unto whom I owed, scarce leaving 
 to myself a convenient subsistence. So as, to conclude, I must 
 pour out my misery before your majesty, so far as to say, si 
 deserts tu, perirnus" [if thou forsakest us, we perish.] 
 
 Grief should be always sacred : it has not been in 
 the case of Lord Bacon; for men are found who 
 smile scornfully at this intellectual Solon, because 
 sorrow dimmed his eyes with tears, and enfeebled his 
 
 i Works, v. p. 566. 
 
bacon's last days. 277 
 
 ancient limbs, and made his once eloquent and 
 courageous tongue to play him false. 
 
 At length his spirit was to be revived. "What 
 animation must have lighted up his desponding 
 features, when he read the following : — 
 
 "My lord, 
 
 " I have despatched the business your lordship 
 recommended to me, which I send your lordship here enclosed, 
 signed by his majesty ; and have likewise moved him for your 
 coming to kiss his hand, which he is pleased you should do at 
 Whitehall when he returneth next thither. In the meantime, 
 I rest 
 
 " Your lordship's faithful friend and servant, 
 
 " G. Buckingham. l 
 "Newmarket, 12'*- Nov., 1622." 
 
 Bacon has left a memorial of the royal interview 
 which followed. It opens with the words of exulting 
 gratitude for the favour : "I may now in a manner 
 sing nunc dimittis, 2 now I have seen you. Before 
 methought I was scant in a state of grace, but in a 
 kind of utter darkness. And, therefore, among other 
 your mercies and favours, I do principally thank 
 your majesty for this admission of me to kiss your 
 hands." 
 
 He then proceeded to acknowledge the king's kind- 
 ness in enlarging him from the Tower, remitting his 
 fine, issuing his general pardon and recommendation 
 to the law officers respecting his debts. After this, 
 he revealed his craving for employment thus : — 
 
 " I have this further to say in the nature of an humble 
 i Works, v. p. 575. 2 The Psalm of Simeon. 
 
278 bacon's last days. 
 
 oblation ; for things once dedicated and vowed cannot lose their 
 character, nor be made common. I ever vowed myself to your 
 service. Therefore : 
 
 "First, if your majesty do at any time think it fit, for your 
 affairs, to employ me again publicly upon the stage, I shall so 
 live and spend my time, as neither discontinuance shall disable 
 me, nor adversity discourage me, nor anything that I shall do 
 give any scandal or envy upon me. 
 
 " Secondly, if your majesty shall not hold that fit ; yet, if it 
 shall please you at any time to ask my opinion, or require my 
 propositions privately by my lord marquis, or any of your 
 counsellors that is my friend, touching any commission or 
 business, , . . . I shall be glad to be a labourer or pioneer in 
 your service. 
 
 "Lastly and chiefly, because your majesty is an universal 
 scholar, or rather master, and my pen . . . gained upon the 
 world, your majesty would appoint me some task or literary 
 province, that I may serve you calamo, if not consilio [with pen, 
 if not by counsel.] 
 
 " I know that I am censured of some conceit of mine ability 
 or worth ; but I pray your majesty impute it to desire, possunt 
 quia posse videntur " 1 
 
 The rest of the memorandum 1 contains only some 
 of those epigrammatical sentences and aphorisms 
 which were so characteristic of his mind, and which 
 he then employed in aid of his proposals to his 
 sovereign. 
 
 It does not appear that any definite advantage 
 resulted from this audience. As to the first of Lord 
 Bacon's proposals, it was as impossible as it would 
 have been unfitting to instal him in any public func- 
 tion. Of the second, king James did often and con- 
 
 i Works, vi. p. 330. 
 " They can conquor who believe they can." — Dryden, 
 
bacon's last days. 279 
 
 fidingly avail himself. And in regard to the last, 
 there are several interesting and characteristic remains 
 of a correspondence between the monarch and the 
 philosopher. 
 
 About five months after, the provostship of Eton 
 fell vacant, and he wistfully sought the appointment. 
 But Buckingham, who anew showed him more con- 
 stant kindness than he did to most who had become 
 dependent on his smile, was absent in Spain. In his 
 eagerness, he made direct application for it to the 
 king as " a cell to retire into; " and, in addition, be- 
 sought the good offices of Mr. Secretary Conway; 
 and received the assurance of his majesty's most 
 gracious acquiescence. It was then, again, that 
 Bishop Williams, his successor as lord keeper, volun- 
 teered his persecuting interposition. "Whatever may 
 be thought of the wisdom of his advice, it was cruelly 
 indelicate thus to thrust himself forward, in order to 
 keep down one whose fall had been his own most 
 undeserved rise. He impatiently wrote to Bucking- 
 ham: "It will rest wholly with your lordship to 
 name the man. It is somewhat necessary he be a 
 good scholar ; but more that he be a good husband, 
 and a careful manager, and a stayed man ; which no 
 man can be, that is so much indebted as the lord of 
 St. Alban's." 1 
 
 Then he was perpetually mortified and irritated by 
 his exclusion from parliament. Great and many as 
 had been his successes at the bar, his triumphs in the 
 
 1 Works, Ti. p. 341, Note. 
 
280 bacon's last days. 
 
 senate had been among his earliest and most ennobling. 
 He had, with an unparalleled mastery, been leader of 
 the opposition; and afterwards, with equal power, 
 had sustained the government in the House of Com- 
 mons. In the House of Lords he had so increased 
 his reputation as an orator, that Raleigh, the best 
 judge of his day, declared that "Lord Salisbury was 
 a great speaker, but a bad writer ; and Lord North- 
 ampton was a great writer, but a bad speaker ; while 
 Lord Bacon was equally excellent in speaking and 
 writing." His mind was full to overflowing with 
 the knowledge of the laws of his country and its 
 international interests. Of them he could discourse 
 with an almost dictatorial power. "What then must 
 have been his feelings of humiliation as he found 
 himself exiled from the parliamentary tribune, whilst 
 the religious war raged in Bohemia, and the successes 
 of Tilly and Spinola made the Protestant world 
 vibrate with fear ,• whilst in that war the Palatine, 
 the king's son-in-law, the husband of Bacon's friend, 
 vainly stretched out his hands to beg aid from Eng- 
 land ; whilst the house of Austria was bidding fair 
 to seize upon European dominion ; whilst the inde- 
 pendence of his country oscillated between the Spanish 
 marriage and the French alliance ? Above all, what 
 must he not have suffered whilst senatorial silence 
 was imposed upon him, in that struggle which 
 now commenced between the king and the Commons, 
 and which only ceased upon the scaffold of king 
 Charles ? 
 
bacon's LAST DATS. 281 
 
 But now that Sir Edward Coke had directed his 
 bitterness to other objects, Bishop Williams amply- 
 supplied his place. The great talents of Lord Bacon 
 haunted the new lord keeper ; and he did his utmost 
 to extinguish them. Bacon could endure no longer. 
 "I prostrate," he wrote, " myself at your majesty's 
 feet; I, your ancient servant, now sixty-four years 
 old in age, and three years five months old in misery. 
 I desire not from your majesty means, nor place, nor 
 employment; but only, after so long a time of expia- 
 tion, a complete and total remission of the sentence 
 of the upper house, to the end that blot of ignominy 
 may be removed from me, and from my memory 
 with posterity; that I die not a condemned man, 
 but may be to your majesty, as I am to God, nova 
 creatura [a new creature.] .... Look down, dear 
 
 sovereign, upon me in pity This my most 
 
 humble request granted, may make me live a year or 
 two happily ; and denied, will kill me quickly." 1 
 
 The king, at length, asserted his own indepen- 
 dence, and immediately commanded the issue of " the 
 full pardon of the whole sentence." And now he was 
 free as the air, eligible for office, and secure of a 
 return to his seat among his peers. 
 
 From that day his health began rapidly to decline. 
 This was evident, notwithstanding his indomitable 
 devotion to his studies. It was during these days — 
 months — of increasing exhaustion that, in addition to 
 his steady pursuit of natural sciences, he commenced 
 
 l Works, v. p. 533. 
 
282 bacon's last days. 
 
 a " Digest of the Laws of England," and composed 
 his "Considerations touching a "War with Spain, 
 inscribed to Prince Charles." This latter has been 
 called the plea of a partisan for the future monarch 
 and for Buckingham, prompted by an anticipative 
 hope of promotion when there should be a new 
 accession. This is too uncharitable. The general 
 question about the Protestant, nay, European im- 
 policy of our alliance with Spain at this period 
 must, we think, be conceded by every dispassionate 
 student of the history of the Thirty Years' War. 1 
 Moreover, to break it was our only chance of 
 redeeming the parental honour of king James, and 
 the fraternal honour of Prince Charles, which had 
 been so seriously committed in their desertion of 
 the elector Palatine. Surely to protest against it was 
 not, necessarily, the act of a partisan. And as to 
 the charge that it " palliated the perfidy with which 
 the Duke of Buckingham had broken off negotiations 
 with the Spanish government," 2 this must be gra- 
 tuitous, for the entire pamphlet makes no one 
 allusion to it whatsoever. 3 
 
 This was Bacon's last literary act; and, without 
 hazarding a thought upon the justifiableness of war, 
 
 l Vide Schiller's History of the " Thirty Years' War." 
 
 2 Lord Campbell, ii. p. 420. 
 
 3 In order to be able to judge fairly as to Bacon's uprightness in his 
 views, his memoranda of his conferences with Buckingham, and his 
 long letter to him upon the question, should be studied. With the hope 
 of expediting the alliance with France against Spain and Austria (the 
 chief papal champions), he offered, even at his advanced age, to go to 
 Paris, and without the honours of appearing as an accredited envoy. 
 Works, vi. p. 360. 
 
BACOKS LIST DAYS. 283 
 
 it is with mournful pleasure that we listen to the last 
 sounds of that noble voice, uttering its warranty for 
 a great national movement, which the cause of Pro- 
 testant existence even, and the pledges of England 
 to her monarch's children, rendered necessary. 
 
 Soon after, king James died. His unhappy heir 
 succeeded to the harvest of that whirlwind, the seeds 
 of the wind of which his father had sown so broad- 
 cast. The growing howlings of the storm may have 
 reached Bacon's prophetic ear, but he soon became 
 too ill to heed them. Though now entitled to attend 
 the coronation, and to take precedence of all the 
 ancient barons, his love of pomp was at length ex- 
 tinct, and he declined attendance. When summoned 
 to parliament, he answered, " I have done with such 
 vanities;" and none of the exciting quarrels in that 
 parliament, nothing of the public disturbance at its 
 summary dissolution, could call him to the court. 
 He had other and more holy powers to exhibit, as he 
 was on the isthmus between the ambition and 
 vindictive passions of this world and the judgment of 
 the next. Just before the event which closed the life 
 of the toil-worn statesman and philosopher, he heard 
 that his successor Bishop Williams had been degraded 
 from his office. He forgave and forgot all the 
 humiliations that he owed to him, and actually 
 entrusted to him the publication of his speeches, and 
 the allocation of a literary bequest. 1 The way in 
 which the bishop welcomed this confidence was as 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 585. 
 
284 bacon's last days. 
 
 cordial : " I do embrace the honour with all thank- 
 fulness, and the trust imposed upon me with all 
 religion and devotion." 
 
 Meanwhile, he had the high solace of the com- 
 panionship of enlightened friends, whose fidelity had 
 been so severely tested. Among them was the dis- 
 tinguished Ben Jonson, whose noble panegyric can 
 never be forgotten : "My conceit of his person was 
 never increased toward him by his place or honours, 
 but I have and do reverence him for the greatness 
 that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to 
 me ever by his works one of the greatest men, and 
 most worthy of admiration, that had been in many 
 ages : in his adversity I ever prayed that God would 
 give him strength, for greatness he could not want ; 
 neither could I condole in a word or syllable for him, 
 as knowing no accident could do harm to virtue, but 
 rather help to make it manifest." 
 
 He had ever shown extreme solicitude to obtain 
 the suffrages of the learned of foreign nations. The 
 Marquis d'Effiat, who brought over the Princess 
 Henrietta Maria, the wife of Charles i, and who 
 was himself distinguished for his attainments, and 
 was familiar with Lord Bacon's works, visited him 
 in his sickness. His words may be called adulatory, 
 but, in their substance, they convey the impression 
 which his name had produced in France. Lord 
 Bacon, when he received him, was confined to his 
 bed, and with the curtains drawn. " You resemble," 
 said the marquis, " the angels ; we hear those beings 
 
bacon's last days. 285 
 
 continually talked of; we believe them to be superior 
 to mankind ; and we never have the consolation to 
 see them." 
 
 During several stages of the sickness which has- 
 tened his death, he found recreation, and we would 
 believe religious comfort, in the versification of 
 several of the Psalms of David. The poetry may be 
 no more worthy of attention, as poetry, than are the 
 versiculi of Demosthenes and Cicero and others, the 
 greatest masters in the rhythm of prose ; but that he 
 should elaborate his version of those holy odes, 
 (odes which, the more we are acquainted with the 
 temptations and sins and weakness of our own 
 hearts, become more precious as forms of spiritual 
 faith and supplication,) goes much to substantiate 
 our hope that he became unaffectedly devout. He 
 inscribed them to George Herbert ; and - his mere 
 friendship with so saint-like a spirit is, itself, a fact 
 of interest in his religious history. 
 
 He had slightly rallied, so far as to be able slowly 
 to move abroad. His passion for natural science was 
 stronger than death, and weak, tottering though he 
 was, he imprudently essayed some experiment for 
 preserving natural substances from putrefaction. 
 With the idea that snow as well as salt might be an 
 antiseptic, he gathered some which he found collected 
 behind a hedge at Highgate, purchased a fowl, and 
 stuffed it with the snow, with his own hands. This 
 he did in spite of the remonstrances of Dr. Wedder- 
 bume, the king's physician, who had accompanied 
 
286 bacon's last days. 
 
 him in his drive, because of his previous prostration. 
 He was instantly seized with cold and shiverings, 
 and borne back to his coach most seriously indisposed. 
 He became so ill that he could not proceed to. his 
 chambers at Gray's Inn, and seized the hospitable 
 shelter of the mansion of his friend, the Earl of 
 Arundel, at Highgate. To do him honour, the 
 servants laid him in the state-bed. It was damp, 
 and his sufferings were aggravated. On the next 
 morning, when somewhat better, still alive to the 
 claims of grateful courtesy, full of hope, and fresh in 
 his thoughts and power of composition, he dictated 
 the following letter to Lord Arundel. It was his 
 last effort. 
 
 " I was likely to have had the fortune of Caius Plinius 
 the elder, who lost his life by trying an experiment about the 
 burning of Mount Vesuvius ; for I was also desirous to try 
 an experiment or two, touching the conservation and induration 
 of bodies. As for the experiment itself, it succeeded exceedingly 
 well; but in the journey between London and Highgate I was 
 taken with such a fit of casting, as I knew not whether it were 
 the stone, or some surfeit of cold, or indeed a touch of them all 
 three. But when I came to your lordship's house I was not 
 able to go back, and therefore was forced to take up my lodging 
 here, where your housekeeper is very careful and diligent about 
 me, which I assure myself your lordship will not only pardon 
 toward him, but think the better of him for it. For indeed your 
 lordship's house was happy to me, and I kiss your noble hands 
 for the welcome which I am sure you give me to it. 
 
 " I know how unfit it is for me to write to your lordship with 
 any other hand than my own ; but, by my troth, my fingers are 
 so disjointed with this fit of sickness, that I cannot steadily hold 
 a pen." 
 
BACOX's LAST DATS. 287 
 
 His hopes of recovery were vain ; and, after a 
 week of suffering from a fever, attended with de- 
 fluxion on his chest, he expired in the arms of Sir 
 Julius Caesar, on the morning of Easter Sunday, the 
 ninth of April, 1626, in the sixty-sixth year of his age. 
 
 ]S"o account is left us of his latest moments. It is 
 most probable, that the nature of his fatal disease 
 deprived his mighty powers of self-possession. If 
 it did not, we may be sure that, with his belief in 
 the doctrine of a Christian immortality, his death bed 
 must have presented a solemn contrast to that of 
 Yoltaire, or Hirabeau, or Hume. To each of these, 
 sceptics in modern times have been fond of referring, 
 as proofs of the constancy, or buoyant joy, or cheerful 
 calmness of infidelity in its last great crisis. But we 
 would remark, that here was one who was far greater 
 than they, each and all ; one of perhaps greater supe- 
 riority to prejudice, more comprehensive learning; 
 and if it be right to draw any probable inference 
 from the thoughts and emotions of his later but still 
 vigorous days, of what must have been the feeling of 
 his dying hour, we may presume that — instead of 
 the frenetic fury of the French infidel apostle, or 
 the voluptuous tenacity of the French tribune, or 
 the sportive equanimity of the English historian — 
 (either of which, on the mere ground of the possibility 
 of a future, was unnatural, to say the least) — there 
 was, around Lord Bacon's last pillow, an awe of 
 prospect which gave edge to his self-abasement for his 
 sins and earnestness to his prayers for their pardon. 
 
288 bacon's last days. 
 
 There was a moral fitness in the circumstances of 
 his sepulture, whether we think of the privacy which 
 is meet for fallen greatness, or of the simplicity 
 which suits greatness at all times. As directed by 
 his will, he was buried in St. Michael's church near 
 St. Albans. " There," he says in his will, " was my 
 mother buried." And such was the public feeling 
 at that period, that the spot would now be undis- 
 tinguishable and undistinguished but for the venera- 
 tion in which his faithful secretary, Sir Thomas 
 If eautys, held his memory. At his own expense, he 
 raised a monument in white marble, where Lord 
 Bacon is represented sitting in the attitude which 
 was habitual to him when he was deep in thought. 
 It has the following inscription : — 
 
 PRANCISCUS BACON BARO DE VERULA S*". ALB**- VIC* S - 
 
 SIVE NOTIORIBTJS TITULTS 
 
 SCIENTIARUM LUMEN FACUNDIiE LEX 
 
 SIC SEDEBAT. 
 
 QUI POSTQUAM OMNIA NATURALIS SAPIENTLZ3 
 
 ET CIVILIS ARCANA EVOLVISSET 
 
 NATURE DECRETUM EXPLEVIT 
 
 COMPOSITA SOLVANTUR 
 
 AN ' D NI - MDCXXVI, 
 
 JETA.T LXVI. 
 
 TANTI "VIRI 
 
 MEM. 
 
 THOMAS MEAUTYS 
 
 STTPERSTITIS CULTOR 
 
 DEFUNCTI ADMIRATOR. 
 
 H.P. i 
 
 1 " Thus sat Francis Bacon, Baron of Verulam, Viscount of St. 
 Albans ; or, to designate him by titles more renowned, the Light of the 
 
bacon's last days. 289 
 
 It is unnecessary for us to record the entire of his 
 "last will and testament;" the following extracts, 
 however, are important for our knowledge of his 
 character : — 
 
 " First. I bequeath my soul and body into tbe hands of God, 
 by the blessed oblation of my Saviour ; the one at the time of 
 my dissolution, the other at the time of my resurrection . . . 
 . . . For my name and memory, I leave it to men's charitable 
 
 speeches, and to foreign nations, and .the next ages 
 
 Two register books ; the one of my orations or speeches, the 
 other of my epistles or letters. ... I do devise and bequeath 
 them to the right honourable my very good lord bishop of 
 Lincoln, and the chancellor of his majesty's duchy of Lan- 
 caster." 
 
 Then follow bequests, amounting to £240, to the 
 poor of several parishes, in one of which he was 
 born ; in another, where he was to be buried (adding 
 as the reason why he left more to the second than to 
 the first, "because the day of death is better than 
 the day of birth ; ") in another, where he had heard 
 sermons and prayers to his comfort in the former 
 great plague. 
 
 Then he devises to his " loving wife " what he 
 deemed sufficient to make her " of competent abilities 
 to maintain the estate of a viscountess, and give 
 sufficient tokens of his love and liberality towards 
 
 Sciences, and the Law of Eloquence ; who, after having unfolded all the 
 mysteries of natural and political knowledge, fulfilled the law of nature, 
 * that compounds must be dissolved,' in the year of our Lord, 1626, 
 aged 66. 
 
 " Thomas Meautys, his devoted servant while he was living, and his 
 admirer now he is dead, has erected this in memory of s>o great a 
 man." 
 
290 BACOX'S LAST DAYS. 
 
 her." This, his original intention, was retracted in 
 a codicil. 
 
 He then munificently bequeaths different sums to 
 his servants ; to those who had been, as well as those 
 who remained, in his household ; various tokens of 
 affection to his friends ; and the produce of the sale 
 of his chambers at Gray's Inn, to twenty-five poor 
 scholars, fifteen in Cambridge, and ten in Oxford. 
 
 " And because I conceive there will be, 
 
 upon the moneys raised by sale of my lands, leases, 
 goods and chattels, a good round surplusage, over and 
 above that which may serve to satisfy my debts and 
 legacies." .... "With this preamble, he bequeaths 
 several sums for the foundation of lectureships "in 
 either the universities," and provides as to the 
 lectures, "that it be without difference, whether 
 they be strangers or English." 
 
 Having named his executors, he thus concludes : — 
 " And I do most earnestly entreat both my execu- 
 tors and supervisors that, although I know well 
 it is a matter of trouble and travail unto them, 
 yet considering what I have been, that they would 
 vouchsafe to do this last office to my memory and 
 good name, and to the discharge of mine honour 
 and conscience ; that all men may be duly paid their 
 own, that my good mind, by their good care, may 
 effect that good work." 
 
 To this there was added a painful codicil which 
 was made in his sickness : — " "Whatsoever I have 
 given, granted, confirmed, or appointed to my wife, 
 
BAC0X S LAST DATS. 291 
 
 in the former part of this my will, I do now, for 
 just and great causes, utterly revoke and make void, 
 and leave her to her right only." 1 
 
 We have selected from this document those par- 
 ticulars only which appear to throw light upon his 
 faith ; upon his judgment about his own position in 
 the world; and on his relationships in life. We 
 would briefly advert to them. 
 
 His solemn committal of himself to God, is ex- 
 pressed in words which avow his trust in the sacri- 
 ficial atonement of the Son of God. 
 
 His appeal from the tomb to the charitable 
 speeches of his immediate survivors, to foreign 
 nations, and to after ages, must be taken as his 
 last and dying conviction that, notwithstanding all 
 his delinquencies (and he had confessed and bewailed 
 them), he had nevertheless been wronged ; and that 
 he stood in need of a tribunal so dispassionate, as 
 could only be expected among those who were 
 remote, either by place or time, from the struggles 
 in which he had been engaged. It, moreover, must 
 be accepted as an act of noble consciousness, that 
 he was to be a man of all future time. 
 
 His will, compared with the codicil respecting 
 his wife, is mysterious. We have not the slightest 
 authority for impeaching her goo. name. But the 
 fact that he expressly states, that he makes the 
 codicil "in his illness," renders it probable that, 
 until some short time previous, she had retained his 
 
 1 Works, vi p. 411. 
 
292 bacon's last days. 
 
 affection, but that then, for some unexplained reasons, 
 she had left him to suffer in his solitude. What- 
 ever may have been the cause, such a desertion, 
 if it occurred, must have been another dreg in a cup 
 whose bitterness already had overflown. 
 
 His many and large bequests, accompanied with 
 his assurance that his estate would realize them, 
 have awakened a surprise which has ended in 
 suspicion. How, it has been asked, could he have 
 believed it, and meanwhile have uttered lamenta- 
 tions about his penury, and preferred prayers for 
 his relief, which none but a " beadsman" could have 
 honestly employed? We admit this difficulty to 
 be great, even insuperable, unless we pay especial 
 attention to a sentence in his last testament which 
 all his calumniators have overlooked. " I do further 
 give and devise . ... my pension of tweke 
 hundred pounds per annum from the king, for certain 
 years yet to come" From this and several letters 
 to the Duke of Buckingham, 1 it is evident that the 
 king had bound himself to this annuity. It was 
 in considerable arrears. And Lord Bacon, with the 
 utmost uprightness, might have calculated that it 
 would hereafter enable him to fulfil his munificent 
 intentions. 
 
 It is true that the executors whom Lord Bacon 
 had nominated, declined to act " for certain reasons." 
 Those reasons may, or may not, have been simply the 
 " toil and travail" of which the will had forewarned 
 
 1 Works, v. p. 531. 
 
BACONS LAST DAYS. 293 
 
 them. It is also to be admitted, for we have Lord 
 Campbell's high authority/ after his own careful 
 examination, " that Bacon died insolvent." But 
 when it is taken into account that the large claims of 
 some of his creditors were sab judice ; that Lord 
 Bacon firmly, and, perhaps, with good reason, pro- 
 tested against the admission of those claims as against 
 all equity and law ; and that these being subducted, 
 his estate did produce results which, if the king's 
 pension had been honourably paid, would have been 
 adequate ; we must in fairness free the memory of 
 his lordship from a stain of meanness and untruth 
 which would otherwise be indelible. It will be 
 understood, that we aim only to reconcile the 
 apparent discrepancy between the assumptions of 
 wealth which are in his will, and his complaints cf 
 poverty which he made at his latest days. His 
 improvidence must, alas ! come again before us in 
 our survey of his character. 
 
 It remains for us to close with some few remarks 
 of a more general nature. 
 
 In the words of Evelyn : u He was of a middling 
 stature ; his forehead, spacious and open, early im- 
 pressed with the marks of age ; his eye lively and 
 penetrating ; his whole appearance venerably pleas- 
 ing, so that the beholder was insensibly drawn to 
 love, before he knew how much reason there was to 
 admire him. In this respect, we may apply to my 
 Lord Bacon what Tacitus finely observes of his 
 
 1 Lord Campbell, ii. p. 433. 
 
294 bacon's last days. 
 
 father-in-law, Agricola: a good man you would 
 readily have judged him to be, and been pleased to 
 find him a great man." * 
 
 In social life his morals were unimpeachable, 
 although the very opposite to an ascetic ; his habits 
 were genial, without being self-indulgent; and in 
 his intercourse with his companions, vast though was 
 his superiority in knowledge, and in all the requisites 
 for asserting it in conversation, he never claimed 
 preeminence. He ever studied how to elicit and set 
 off to advantage the peculiar faculties of those who 
 were around him. The more obscure the company, 
 the more generous his behaviour. He neither des- 
 pised, nor affected to patronise, the remarks of any 
 one. When he combined them with his own, it was 
 in order to illustrate, not eclipse them. His tempe- 
 rament was grave ; but this, surrounded as it was by 
 a calm pleasantry, which indulged itself in apoph- 
 thegms, as amusing as they were sententious, must 
 have been far more winning than one which often 
 betrays its flippancy amidst the coruscations of its 
 wit. By his servants he was tenderly beloved ; he 
 indulged them to excess, and that contributed to his 
 ruin. 
 
 Painful, deeply painful as it is, we must readvert 
 to those weaknesses of his private character which 
 we believe led to his public crimes. Had he not 
 from the first involved himself in cruel and increasing 
 debt, we cannot dream that he would have appeared 
 
 1 Evelyn's History of Medals, p» 340. 
 
bacon's last days. 295 
 
 so often and so degradingly, in forma pauperis, as a 
 suitor for employment ; that to obtain and aggrandize 
 that employment, he would have enacted an Iscariot 
 to his friend, and then blackened his memory; that 
 he would have become the dishonourable tool of a 
 minion whom he must have cordially despised, and 
 the panderer to the sickening conceits of a monarch, 
 from whose despotism he must have often shrunk 
 with horror. Eut, alas ! for him the path back to 
 honour was crossed by a bailiff, and the sight of him 
 not only prevented a virtuous retreat, but sent 
 himself forward morally bewildered. The possibility 
 of such a case will soon be confirmed by a slight 
 observation of men and things ; and while it holds 
 out the most solemn warning as to itself in particular, 
 it should suggest the general law of which it is an 
 instance, namely, that all our moral principles are so 
 closely interwoven, that what deteriorates one, even 
 the smallest, must deteriorate the rest. The electric 
 spark may touch only a filament, but the current 
 will be all pervading. 
 
 It were easy to employ generalities of phrase, and 
 to call Lord Bacon one of the greatest orators, and 
 statesmen, and jurists, and philosophers, and moralists 
 of the world. Eut this must not content us. He 
 was preeminently so original, and his originality had 
 such an oneness, that if we can but seize and represent 
 to ourselves this peculiarity, we shall understand him. 
 It appears to us that whether he addressed an 
 audience, or meditated a state-document, or framed 
 
296 bacon's last days. 
 
 a law opinion, or pursued science, or observed men 
 and manners, there was, as his invariable and 
 necessary characteristic, a positive inability to look 
 at facts merely as individuals. He had no microscopic 
 eye, with only one point illumined in the midst of 
 interminable darkness. If he essayed to convince 
 the judgment, his argument had its numerous colla- 
 terals; if to swell a -passion, he provided tributary 
 streams. His legislation was for peoples, not for a 
 country, even though that country was his own. To 
 him the minute specifications of the learned Coke 
 were imperceptible, he could contemplate only the 
 general laws of society ; just as the facts in philo- 
 sophy which were empirical were, in his estimate, 
 nothing, for he appreciated principles solely. So 
 too when he described the heart, it was not that of 
 one man, or of one variety of man, but of man : 
 the pulsations which he watched were the pulsations 
 of humanity. This is not inconsistent with his high 
 title — "The Philosopher of Facts." He saw their 
 relations, but he saw those relations in those facts 
 themselves. 
 
 We have had to refer so often to his views of 
 Christianity, that we will only add, that they partook 
 of the same largeness of conception, combined with 
 the same relation of particulars. The charge of 
 infidelity against him by French writers, is precisely 
 analogous to that which Voltaire and others have 
 adduced against Pascal; and on the same ground. 
 The one wrote his "Paradoxes," the other his 
 
EACOX ? S LAST DATS. 297 
 
 "Thoughts;" both giving us, not their own con- 
 clusions, but the mental struggles amid which those 
 conclusions were attained. 
 
 But should it be retorted on us — Of what value 
 were all Lord Bacon's convictions, seeing that, in 
 spite of them, he erred so immorally r we must 
 sorrowfully answer, that while we know from what 
 they did not keep him, we know not from what they 
 did ; that he was one of the greatest benefactors of 
 his species, in the illustration and advocacy of truth, 
 and in active labours for their civil good ; and we 
 know not how much of this was the real result of 
 those convictions ; and, finally, that the moment 
 those convictions came into healthier action, they 
 saved him from despair. They made the eventide of 
 his life more hopeful, and its light more beneficent 
 than its meridian. 
 
 In one of his last letters to king James, which we 
 have quoted, he expresses his trust in God that he 
 has been made a "new creature." Of the necessity 
 of this change of heart by the Spirit of God ; of the 
 comparative powerlessness of Christian motives and 
 restraints before that change has taken place, holy 
 Scripture is decisive in its statements. And the case 
 before us is one which, on Lord Bacon's own belief, 
 we may regard as an illustration. If any of our 
 readers, therefore, shall close this lament over the 
 sins of a name so high, and this humble tribute to a 
 man so great, with a firmer assurance of this truth, 
 we shall be humbly and fervently thankful. His 
 
298 bacon's last days. 
 
 learning, his science, his experience, however mighty 
 their considerations for the support of virtue, failed 
 him; so too his Christian views, whilst merely a 
 theory, failed him. He confessed this. ! may we 
 not trust, diffidently if needs be, that he clung to 
 his hope of a blessed immortality from the humble 
 belief that he was brought under the condition 
 described in the Divine declaration : " Except a man 
 be born again, he cannot enter into the kingdom of 
 heaven?" 
 
 We cannot close this memoir without adding a few 
 more remarks which, however general they may be, 
 have direct reference to that individual case that 
 has been before us. Our readers will, we trust, 
 have perceived how anxiously we have striven to 
 vindicate Lord Bacon's character, as far as the sacred 
 obligations of truth and religion would allow us; 
 and how earnestly we have watched for even the 
 slightest indications of true repentance before God, 
 after his fall and shame. They will not therefore 
 consider us uncharitable or self-righteous when, 
 with the deepest reverence for his unrivalled genius, 
 and a glad appreciation of his many high qualities, 
 we feel constrained to hold him up as a warning, 
 both to men who are highly intellectual themselves, 
 and to a far larger class, namely, those who admire 
 intellect in others. It would seem as if the God 
 of holiness had, in his inscrutable providence, allowed 
 such a mind, guarded as it was by every intellectual 
 warden, to show its own moral frailty, in order that 
 
bacon's LAST DATS. 299 
 
 we might the more impressively be taught the lesson: 
 " Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, neither 
 let the mighty man glory in his might ; let not the 
 rich man glory in his riches : but let him that 
 glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth and 
 knoweth me, that I am the Lord which exercise 
 loving-kindness, judgment, and righteousness, in the 
 earth ; for in these things I delight, saith the 
 Lord." 1 "Bemember Lot's wife" was the injunction of 
 our blessed Lord, when he warned his disciples against 
 a tenacity to the world. May we not humbly but 
 urgently say, "Bemember Lord Bacon," whenever 
 you think of the power and glory of human science 
 and human wisdom ; whenever any effort, or any 
 combination of the mental faculties, awakes your 
 admiration and applause. "We say not this from any 
 sympathy with those who maliciously decry " genius" 
 and " talent " and " cleverness." Let such qualities 
 be found in union with " repentance towards God, 
 and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ;" let them, 
 instead of having the mastery, be the greatest hand- 
 maids to love to God and to his Son, and this their 
 position, instead of detracting from their sublimity or 
 beauty, will only the more ennoble them. It will 
 give the widest and loftiest range for development 
 and action. It will supply them with purposes and 
 motives which, in grandeur, shall be most akin unto 
 themselves. And meanwhile, by its constant sugges- 
 tions of self- distrust, and of the need of the aid and 
 
 Jeremiah is, 23, 21. 
 
300 bacon's last days. 
 
 protection of the Holy Spirit, will preserve them 
 from disgraceful failures and humiliations. 
 
 We cannot but believe that all that was low in 
 sycophancy, degrading and perilous in debt, treache- 
 rous in friendship, subservient in guilty policy, and 
 dishonest in the administration of justice, which we 
 have had to record in the life of Lord Bacon, would 
 never have blotted his noble escutcheon, if he had 
 walked humbly with his God, kept in so doing by an 
 habitual consciousness of sinfulness ; by a love and 
 confidence in God as a Father "in Christ reconciling 
 the world unto himself; " by a jealousy for the honour 
 of his Saviour ; and an hourly reference of all his 
 wants and difficulties to the guidance and support of 
 the Holy Ghost. 
 
 Oh! had it been so, there would have been no 
 danger of "hero- worship,' ' in dwelling upon his 
 fair and glorious fame ; for, with all his knowledge 
 and eloquence and science he would have said, " By 
 the grace of God, I am what I am." 
 
 THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY: INSTITUTED 1799. 
 

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