3tl(ara, Jfem fork 
 
 LIBRARY OF 
 
 LEWIS BINGLEY WYNNE 
 
 A.B.A.M., COLUMBIAN COLLEGE.-71,'73 
 WASHINGTON. D. C. 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 MRS. MARY A. WYNNE 
 
 AND 
 
 JOHN H. WYNNE 
 CORNELL -aa 
 
 1922 
 
Cornell University Library 
 B1197 .LS9 
 
 Francis Bacon: (lord Verulam. 
 
 24 029 010 110 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029010110 
 
FRANCIS BACON: 
 
 (LORD VERULAM.) 
 
 A CRITICAL REVIEW 
 
 HIS LIFE AND CHARAOTEE. 
 
 Selections from his Writings. 
 
 ADAPTED FOR COLLEGES AND HIGH SCHOOLS. 
 
 BY B. G. LOVEJOY, A. M., LL. B., 
 
 OF WASHINGTON, D. C 
 
 ' The brightest^ wisest, meanest of mankind" — Poph, 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 ESTES AND LAURIAT. 
 
 1883. 
 
COPYRIGHT, 
 
 1883, 
 
 By ESTES & LAURIAT. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 TO HIS EARLIEST AND LATEST FRIEND, 
 
 Professor ELLIOTT COUES, A. M., M. D., Ph. D., etc., 
 
 DISTINGUISHED IN TWO CONTINENTS AS A SCIENTIST, 
 
 CHERISHED BY THE FEW WHO KNOW HIM BEST FOR 
 
 HIS WARM, UNSELFISH HEART AND CAPACITY 
 
 FOR DISINTERESTED FRIENDSHIP, 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 Three of the most interesting, and, in some respects, 
 most influential writers of earlier English prose, were 
 Johnson, Addison and Bacon. The last is having his 
 revival in America through his Essays, which are being 
 adopted as a text-book in English literature in many of 
 our Colleges and High Schools. 
 
 A comparatively recent life of Bacon attracted the 
 writer's attention in one of these nurseries of American 
 citizenship, and he was impressed with the hero-worship 
 prominent in every paragraph, — how admiration of the 
 philosopher's intellect made the biographer blind to the 
 man's frailty, how every comment seemed to be a com- 
 promise with, or apology for, just such individual and 
 official corruption as is now awakening the American 
 mind to a just appreciation of public and private 
 honesty and integrity. 
 
 Impressed with the idea that there is room for a 
 sketch of this great type of official bribe-takers, the 
 writer has exhibited this extraordinary man climbing to 
 the Wool-sack and descending to the prison-cell, through 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 the channels of unsatisfied ambition and greed for 
 wealth, while giving to the world principles of philosophy 
 and morality which conferred immortality alike upon 
 his fame and his infamy. 
 
 In this estimate of Bacon's character, his actions are 
 tested by his own rules of right, and his conduct is 
 subjected to the touchstone of his own code of morality. 
 
 The selections contained in this volume are intended 
 to illustrate the truth of his sentiments and the beauty 
 of their expression. 
 
 B. G. L. 
 Washington, June i, 1883. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 FROM THE BIRTH OF BACON TO THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH. 
 
 The tribute paid to Bacon by succeeding ages; his life as 
 instructive as his pen ; object of this sketch to eutline him in liis 
 two r61es of place-hunter and truth-seeker ; contemporary history 
 essential to acquaintance with the individual ; his political, reli- 
 gious and intellectual surroundings glanced at; Queen Elizabeth, 
 her embarrassments and policy; the literature of the period; 
 Bacon's mother one of the " learned ladies ; " Bacon's father ; 
 Bacon born January 22d, A. D. 1 560 ; his precocity ; early educa- 
 tion; enters the University of Cambridge, aged thirteen ; univer- 
 sity education unprogressive ; Bacon's opinion of the teachers 
 and methods at the universities; contrast between home sur- 
 roundings "and college life; in his sixteenth year accompanies 
 Sir Amias Paulet, English ambassador, to Paris; possible bad 
 influence of Elizabethan diplomacy on his youthful nature ; his 
 residence abroad and its results ; summoned home by the sudden 
 death of his father; confronted by poverty; seeks office, and 
 failing, enters upon the study of the law; state of religious 
 feeling; Bacon seeks a short path to the bar; how he regarded 
 the profession of the law; Burghley's rebuke; full- admission 
 to the bar, A. D. 1586; sits in the parliament, 1586; is a 
 speaker in debate on execution of sentence against Queen 
 of Scots; Martin Marprelate, Bacon enters the controversial 
 contest; his pen employed by the Queen; rewarded for his 
 services by gift of a place in reversion; intimacy with Earl 
 of Essex; new parliament, February 19, 1592; Bacon as a 
 reformer, and speech on law reform ; his " patriotic " but unfor- 
 tunate speech against granting three subsidies to the Queen ; 
 
 \ 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 Elizabeth's anger at his course ; what inspired this speech j the 
 "three-pound men" — " Dulcis tractus pari jugo ;" he contem- 
 plates retirement, but is restrained by Essex; he is financially 
 embarrassed ; his contradictory impulses ; he fastens his eye on 
 the Attorney-Generalship ; writes to Burghley's sons. Sir Thomas 
 and Sir Robert Cecil ; letter to the Queen, disavowing the press- 
 • ing of his suit on the Queen ; Essex supports him, but is con- 
 fronted by Bacon's anti-subsidy speech ; Sir Edward Coke is made 
 Attorney-Genera!, notwithstanding the " uttermost credit, friend- 
 ship and authority" of Essex; Bacon turns to the Solicitor- 
 Generalship, and is supported by Essex; he tells Essex to 
 disparage competitors for the position ; the Queen sends him on 
 a mission ; he borrows from Anthony Bacon to pay his travelling 
 expenses ; is taken ill ; returns, taking " A. M. " on the way, from 
 Cambridge; Essex acquaints Elizabeth with Bacon's threat of 
 retirement if he does not receive promotion ; the Queen's anger j 
 Bacon's interview with Sir Robert Cecil; they part "in kindness, 
 secundum exterius ; " Essex presses Bacon's suit in vain; Fleming 
 made Solicitor-General, A. D. 1596; Bacon's dejection and retire- 
 ment to the villa of Essex ; the Earl's sympathy ; gives Bacon an 
 estate worth ;^i,8oo ; publication of essays, " Colors of Good and 
 Evil," " Meditationes Sacra;" Essex's successful expedition 
 against the Spaniards and Cadiz ; Bacon's letter of advice to the 
 young Earl; its moral tone, or, rather, immoral tone; Queen's 
 opinion of his legal ability : " excellent gift of speech, but in law 
 she rather thought he could show to the uttermost than that he 
 was deep ; " vindicates his legal ability by writing his " Maxims " 
 and "Use of the Common Law;" proposes to relieve financial 
 embarrassments by marriage of convenience ; Lady Hatton — her 
 character; letter to Essex, asking his backing; good advice to 
 the Earl; Coke runs off with Lady Hatton; seven matrimonial 
 objections to Coke; Lady Hatton's married life; parliament of 
 1597; Bacon an active member; votes for large subsidies ; Essex's 
 return from unsuccessful naval adventure ; Raleigh second in com- 
 mand; his success; Essex's injustice; Queen displeased; Essex 
 sulks, is forgiven and restored to favor ; is adviser to the Queen 
 during Cecil's absence; Bacon's letter to Essex touching Irish 
 affairs ; Bacon arrested for debt ; spunging-house ; presents the 
 Queen with an embroidered petticoat ; coolness between Essex and 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 Bacon; Essex takes command of expedition against Tyrone; 
 Bacon's letter to Essex in striking contrast with his subsequent 
 conduct; the failure of the expedition; sudden return of Essex; 
 reception by the Queen at "Nonsuch;" his subsequent impris- 
 onment; trial before special commission; Essex forbidden the 
 court; Bacon held responsible for the Queen's disfavor towards 
 Essex; Bacon's letter to Essex, November, 1599: "I am more 
 yours than any man, more yours than any man's; " letter to 
 Essex ; the Earl's reply ; letters written by Bacon, and exchanged 
 by Anthony Bacon and the Earl; Essex surrounded by bad 
 advisers ; Queen's refusal of patent : " An unruly beast must be 
 stinted of his provender; " the Essex fiasco; he and Southamp- 
 ton in the Tower; the trial; Bacon's prosecution of his patron; 
 the Earl's defence; Bacon vs. Bacon; the Earl's conviction, 
 sentence and execution; dissatisfaction of the people; Bacon 
 detailed to defend the government ; Bacon a volunteer prosecutor 
 in a certain sense ; was not of the sworn counsel ; Bacon seeks 
 office ; writes to Puckering, " I hope you will think I am no 
 unlikely piece of wood to shape you a true servant of ; " adopts 
 Sir Robert Cecil for his patron; A. D. 1601, Anthony Bacon dies; 
 this year a new parliament ; the last of Elizabeth's reign ; Bacon 
 a law reformer ; bill for regulation of weights and measures lost, 
 revived and passed in reign of William IV. ; supports subsidy ; 
 Raleigh's sarcasm; monopolies; Bacon defends the prerogative; 
 the Queen anticipates the action of the Commons ; her death ; 
 Bacon's skirmish line of letters to meet the new sovereign's 
 advance i 
 
 PART II. 
 
 FROM THE ACCESSION OF JAMES TO THE PUBLICATION OF 
 NOVUM ORGANUM, OCT. 12, 1620. 
 
 Elizabeth on the succession; correspondence of Anthony 
 Bacon, Essex, Cecil and others with the Court of Scotland ; Bacon 
 trades on the capital of his dead brother and his dead patron ; 
 James continues regular appointees of the Crown in office, which 
 leaves Bacon out; Southampton visited in the Tower; Bacon 
 writes to him, "I may safely be now that which I was truly 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 before ; " Bacon continued as unsworn counsel ; the King con- 
 fers knighthood on 300 gentlemen, who pay for it ; Bacon one of 
 them; his letter to Sir Robert Cecil: "I have found an alder- 
 man's daughter, a. handsome maiden to my liking ; " Bacon not 
 employed in beginning of the new reign ; writes on the " Better 
 Pacification and Edification of the Church of England;" his 
 apology for prosecuting Essex; trial of Raleigh for participation 
 in the Arabella Stuart fiasco; Coke's cruel and coarse conduct at 
 the trial ; Bacon in James' first parliament ; wins favor with King 
 and people; appointed King's counsel; salary and pension; 
 "Advancement of Learning" published; its reception; May 10, 
 1606, marries Alice Barnham; contemporary writer on the wed- 
 ding; promotion of Coke and appointment of Hobart; Bacon 
 again disappointed; finally succeeds; made Solicitor-General 
 June 25, 1607 ; activity in behalf of naturalization act; case of the 
 post-iiati ; leisure hours devoted to philosophy — "Cogita etvisa;" 
 Wisdom of the Ancients; parliament of A. D. 1609; Bacon and 
 the prerogative ; impositions; new edition of Essays, 1612; writes 
 to the King for refusal of the Attorney-Generalship ; Coke trans- 
 ferred from Common Pleas to King's Bench through Bacon's 
 influence; Hobart succeeds Coke and Bacon is made Attorney- 
 General; the Sutton will case; Robert Cecil, Earl of Sails 
 bury, dies. May 24, 1612; Bacon's abuse of his dead cousin; 
 James lacking in wise counsellors ; Bacon's opportunity ; contem- 
 poraneous fear that Bacon would become a " dangerous instru- 
 ment;" parliamentary opposition to his taking his seat; imposi- 
 tions; quarrel between King and Commons; dissolution, June, 
 1614; "benevolences;" Oliver St. John's protest; his prosecution, 
 submission and pardon; Peacham examined "before torture, 
 during torture, between tortures and after torture;" Bacon's 
 opinion ; letter to the King touching Peacock's candidacy for the 
 rack; poisoning of Sir Thomas Overbery; Earl and Countess of 
 Somerset; Bacon's gentle conduct towards both; appearance of 
 Villiers on the stage; his rise; Bacon's intimacy with him; his 
 letter of advice to the favorite; Lord Chancellor Ellsmere's 
 illness; Bacon's correspondence with the King; the Lord Chan- 
 cellor disappoints Bacon by recovering; they weep together; 
 Bacon, in letter to the King, contrasts himself with his rivals, to 
 their disadvantage; Coke and the judges assailed; courage' of 
 
CONTENTS. xi 
 
 the former, cowardice of the latter; Bacon mstrumental in 
 degrading his rival; Coke unfrocked; Villiers made Viscount; 
 Clarendon's character of the favorite ; Bacon proposes to re- 
 compile the law; Sir Robert Peel, 1826; Bacon made Lord 
 Keeper, 1617 ; letter of thanks to the favorite ; proposed marriage 
 between Prince Charles and the Infanta of Spain; Bacon's 
 letter to the King ; some of its wise suggestions ; King and Buck- 
 ingham go to Scotland, May, 1617; Bacon takes his seat in Court 
 of Chancery; great pomp; his speech; address to Justices Hat- 
 ton and Denham ; Coke's happy plan for restoration ; its success ; 
 quarrel with Lady Hatton, she runs off with their daughter; 
 Bacon refuses a warrant to Coke, requested by the favorite's 
 mother, for recovery of his daughter ; Bacon writes to Bucking- 
 ham, and argues against the proposed match ; Coke pursues and 
 re-takes his daughter by force ; Lady Hatton collects a force and 
 pursues her husband ; her carriage breaks down ; she hastens to 
 Bacon's lodgings; enlists her old lover in her behalf; Bacon's 
 change of base on hearing the King and favorite were against 
 him ; he writes the King an explanatory letter ; its disingenuous- 
 ness; the King and favorite's indignation; Bacon's penitence; 
 letters from James and Buckingham; Bacon's submission and 
 the favorite's forgiveness; Buckingham interferes in behalf of 
 suitors in chancery cases; Bacon's conduct in the premises; 
 Raleigh's expedition in search of a gold mine; the failure, return 
 and consequences ; his character and death ; character of his exe- 
 cution and all concerned in it ; Bacon's legal services ; his prose 
 cation of Yelverton ; his Novum Organum ; King's acceptance of 
 the dedication and copy; Coke's ungracious conduct. ... 63 
 
 PART III. 
 
 FROM THE PUBLICATION OF THE NOVUM ORGANUM, OCT. 
 12, 1620, TO bacon's DEATH, APRIL 9, 1626. 
 
 Bacon celebrates his sixtieth birthday, as Lord Verulam and 
 Lord Chancellor; Ben Jonson's ode; the Elector Palatine par- 
 liament; monopolies, grievances; Mompesson, Mitchell, "Over- 
 reach" and "Greedy;" Edward Villiers diplomatized; Bacon 
 
xii CONTENTS. 
 
 charged with corruption ; his letter to Buckingham ; is taken ill ; 
 his letter to the House of Lords; wants time and counsel to pre- 
 pare defense ; Williams, Dean of Winchester, adviser of King and 
 Buckingham ; they leave Bacon to his fate ; he writes to favorite 
 and King, no " depraved habit of taking rewards j " might " be 
 frail and partake of the abuses of the times ; " the King's conduct 
 towards the Commons ; Bacon returns to Gorhambury; anecdote 
 of Prince Charles; April lo, 1621, Bacon makes his will; notes 
 to be used in interview with James ; the interview and result; 
 letter to the King for mercy; further correspondence with the 
 King ; inconsistent demand for particulars of charge and proposed 
 confession; unsatisfactory confession to the House of Lords; 
 they decline to accept it ; he makes a more definite one, which is 
 presented by Prince Charles; committee wait on him: "My 
 Lords, it is my act, my hand, my heart. I beseech your Lordships 
 be merciful to a broken reed;" convicted nemine dissentiente ; 
 sentenced, the favorite alone voting in the negative; in the 
 Tower; letter to Buckingham; is released; compelled to leave 
 London; further mercy from the King; applies himself to his 
 studies and writings; his last experiment; his death, April g, 
 1626; his burial; his estate and debts; publication of his works; 
 lives of Bacon ; consideration of his moral character and of his 
 philosophy. 129 
 
ESSAYS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Of Truth 195 
 
 Of Death 198 
 
 Of Revenge 202 
 
 Of Adversity 204 
 
 Of Parents and Children 206 
 
 Of Marriage and Single Life 209 
 
 Op Great Place 213 
 
 Of Boldness 219 
 
 Of Goodness, and Goodness of Nature 221 
 
 Of Atheism 224 
 
 Of Superstition 228 
 
 Of Travel 230 
 
 Of Wisdom for a Man's Self 233 
 
 Of Innovations 234 
 
 Of Seeming Wise 236 
 
 Of Friendship 23S 
 
 Of Expense 246 
 
 Of Suspicion 248 
 
 Of Discourse 249 
 
 Of Riches 251 
 
 Of Nature in Men 255 
 
 Of Youth and Age 257 
 
XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Of Beauty 259 
 
 Of Studies ". 261 
 
 Of Praise 262 
 
 Of Judicature 264 
 
 EXTRACTS. 
 
 Lines and Portraiture of a Good Judge 271 
 
 Advice to Sir George Villiers. — Matters Concern- 
 ing Justice and the Laws, and the Professors 
 
 Thereof 273 
 
 Answer to Politicians 273 
 
 Church Controversies 277 
 
FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
PART I. 
 
 FROM BIRTH OF BACON TO DEATH OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 Nearly three hundred years ago, Francis Bacon died, 
 and was buried in the country church of St. Michael's. 
 
 The solemn sentence — " Dust to dust, ashes to 
 ashes," has long since been fulfilled, and all that was 
 mortal of a great philosoplrer has become as earthy as 
 the remains of the pauper whom the same inevitable 
 event consigned to the potter's field. 
 
 The memory of a bad man is sometimes preserved 
 for a time to point a moral ; that of a philanthropist lives 
 in his monuments to the brotherhood of humanity ; the 
 memories of kings and conquerors flit like troubled 
 ghosts through the pages of history ; but it is only the 
 name of the thinker of great thoughts, the writer of 
 profound and beautiful truths, the pioneer of principles 
 reaching in their beneficent benevolence to remote 
 generations, that foreign nations and after ages cherish 
 with intellectual veneration. 
 
 This is the tribute paid to Francis Bacon. 
 
 His essays are recognized as a source of the soundest 
 principles of social and moral philosophy ; his Advance- 
 ment of Learning as a most able and eloquent defense 
 
2 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 I 
 
 of the utility of knowledge; his Novum Organum as 
 the missionary of philosophical inquiry among English- 
 speaking people ; his Church Controversies and other 
 religious tracts as abounding in golden maxims of 
 Christian conservatism ; his Orders in Chancery as the 
 basis of equity practice in English jurisprudence ; * his 
 legal tracts and speeches as giving an impulse to the 
 study of law as a science, and as suggesting many wise 
 reforms in legislation ; his political tracts and speeches 
 as inculcating principles of wise government; his 
 thoughts on education as anticipating some of the suc- 
 cessful experiments of later times ; and his Apothegms 
 as a clever jest-book. 
 
 To read his works and not know the author is 
 treading but an arc of the circle. His life teaches as 
 profound lessons as his pen. And when the frailty 
 and folly of the man are contrasted with the morality 
 and wisdom of the writer, a most curious exhibition of! 
 inconsistency is presented to the student of human 
 nature. 
 
 The object of this sketch is to outline him in his two| 
 roles of Truth-seeker and Place-hunter, in his couragd 
 and cowardice, strength and weakness, glory and^ 
 shame. To form a fair estimate of any historical char- 
 acter, it is necessary to consider the times in which he' 
 lived; to know something of those who guided hii 
 infancy, influenced his youth, surrounded his manhood, 
 and with whose destinies his own fate was interwoven 
 For, although we come into this world alone, and go 
 out of it alone, none of us live in it alone. Our lives! 
 are mingled together as warp and woof ; in every stage 
 
 * Campbell's " Lives of the Lord Chancellors," vol. ii., p. 434; 
 Basil Montagu's " Bacon's Works," vol. xvi., p. 242. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 3 
 
 of existence we are involuntarily influencing others, 
 and unconsciously being influenced by others. 
 
 A storm of political and religious agitation preceded 
 the birth of Bacon, and its clouds, though broken, were 
 not scattered until the last of the Stuarts made the 
 final and fruitless attempt to solve with arms the 
 problem which the Tudors had devised. 
 
 After Henry the Eighth had dragged the Pope from 
 the spiritual throne of England, and created a very 
 good new church, which he supplied with a very indif- 
 ferent head, he was occupied in efforts to completely 
 disestablish one hierarchy and firmly establish another, 
 to silence one class of consciences by tests that were 
 martyrdom, and reconcile another with bribes that were 
 bishoprics. His death handed over country and church 
 to a boy-successor, who soon followed his father to 
 that bourn where all kings go crownless. But not 
 until he had out-Henried Henry in his new departure, 
 and, under the protectorship of Somerset and Warwick, 
 substituted sectarian fanaticism for his father's State- 
 craft, and "reformed" his people almost into rebels 
 and revolutionists. 
 
 Queen Mary signalized her succession to the throne 
 by undoing all that her brother had done, and as vigor- 
 ously and more viciously attempting to force upon the 
 •body of the people one faith, one baptism, one sacra- 
 ment. But she was fortunately summoned to join her 
 father and brother before she had accomplished her 
 mission, and at the very stage when she had prepared 
 England to receive Elizabeth as the heir to Henry the 
 Eighth's throne and Henry the Eighth's policy. 
 
 The new church received new life under a ruler who, 
 to the courage of a Boadicea, added the cunning of a 
 
4 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 Machiavelli. Unlike her brother and sister, she was 
 conservative ; and her task was not only to soothe, or 
 sacrifice, as a last alternative, the Catholics, — it was to 
 cool the ardor of reformers, and to deal with trouble- 
 some spirits, who, while supporting secession from the 
 Church of Rome, refused adhesion to that of England. 
 
 With unparalleled skill she nationalized every warring 
 sect ; so that they who, under Edward and Mary, were 
 ready to burn each other at the stake, stood shoulder 
 to shoulder upon the decks of Drake's fleet, or the plain 
 of Tilbury, to defend Elizabeth and England from 
 foreign foes. The danger past, they renewed their 
 bickerings, and she resumed her role of moderator. 
 
 Throughout her reign she was confronted by fears 
 of Spanish invasions, papal plots, Irish rebellions, 
 church controversies. And the task of her life was to 
 evoke inward patriotism, command outward conformity, 
 and to establish England upon a foundation which 
 nothing could have sapped but the folly of her suc- 
 cessor. In this object she was seconded by councillors 
 whom the times begot for the times. These she used 
 and abused. For she possessed, as Macaulay says of 
 Louis XIV., the " two talents invaluable to a prince, — 
 the talent of choosing her servants well, and the talent 
 of appropriating to herself the chief part of the credit 
 of their acts." 
 
 Of the literature which met the subject of this sketch 
 upon the threshold of life, little now can be said than 
 that it was very meagre. The spirit of the age favored 
 the pen dedicated to theological controversy. Although 
 the Queen might reward a Spenserian sonnet, her chief 
 adviser scorned the "old song," and begrudged the 
 reward to the sweet singer. Although Elizabeth might 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 5 
 
 indulge in a masque of Ben Jonson's, or command 
 Burbage to produce before Her Majesty a play of Will 
 Shakspeare, a philippic of Demosthenes, or the " PhiE- 
 don " of Plato, was alone worthy of the scholarly con- 
 sideration of the pupil of Roger Ascham, or a Latin 
 argument in favor of her politico-spiritual supremacy, 
 written by some courtly theologian, pliant relic of the 
 last reign, whom Mary would have made a saint if his 
 prudence had not postponed the canonization of stake 
 and fagot. 
 
 Education was limited to the few, and that of the 
 most cultured in degree. Greece and Rome reigned 
 supreme; or if the ancients were neglected, not England 
 but Italy, that "store-house of divine rites," as it was 
 then called, supplied the place of Athenian orator and 
 Latin poet. 
 
 The mass of English mothers were instructed in the 
 practical duties of the household only. 
 
 The average husband found the average wife all that 
 his fancy painted her, if she were 
 
 " Versed in the arts 
 Of pies, puddings and tarts." 
 
 When Sir Peter, in one of his delightful outbursts of 
 bad temper, contrasts Lady Teazle's country existence 
 with her town life, she replies : 
 
 " Yes, I recollect it very well. My daily occupations were 
 to overlook the dairy, superintend the poultry, make abstracts 
 from the family receipt book, and comb my Aunt Deborah's 
 lap-dog. My evening's employments were to draw patterns 
 for ruffles which I had no material to make up, play at Pope 
 Joan with the curate, read a sermon to my Aunt Deborah, 
 and perhaps be stuck up at an old spinet, to play my father 
 to sleep, after a fox-chase." 
 
6 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 Unintellectual as these occupations were, they were 
 in advance of those of the average Elizabethan maid 
 and mother. 
 
 But, among the exceptions was Lady Bacon, mother 
 of Francis. She was a daughter of the learned tutor 
 of Edward VI., Sir Anthony Cooke, of whom it was 
 said, " Contemplation was his soul, privacy his life, and 
 discourse his element ; business was his purgatory, 
 and publicity his torment." Which reveals a scholarly 
 gentleman, revelling in retirement, reading, and such 
 conversations as enlivened Cicero's retreat to his 
 Tusculan villa. 
 
 Sir Anthony first gave his five daughters a good 
 education, and then provided them with good husbands, 
 thus performing the whole duty of man as a father. 
 One daughter married William Cecil, who, as Lord 
 Burghley, was Elizabeth's chief adviser through many 
 years. Lady Anne married Sir Nicholas Bacon, who 
 was the Queen's Lord Keeper. 
 
 Lady Bacon was one of the exceptionally learned 
 women of the day. She was somewhat distinguished 
 for her Italian and Latin translations, took a deep 
 interest in theological discussions, was tinctured with 
 Calvinism, and was both an imperious and an affec- 
 tionate mother. Sir Nicholas comes to us through the 
 channel of biography as a sound lawyer, tiresome ora- 
 tor, honest judge and faithful subject. Their second 
 and favorite son was Francis Bacon, the subject of this 
 sketch, who was born on the 2 2d day of January, 
 A. D. 1561, at York House, his father's London resi- 
 dence. The great philosopher came into the world 
 and went out of it as all mortals do, — his first cry a 
 protest against living, his last moan a protest against 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. >j 
 
 dying. But to think of him as an ordinary child is 
 difficult ; for, before reaching his teens, he indulged in 
 investigations into the laws of sound and the mysteries 
 of animal magnetism.* And when the Queen toyed 
 with his curly locks and asked his age, he replied, with 
 the easy sycophancy of a courtier, " Two years younger 
 than your Majesty's most happy reign." 
 
 Brilliant minds are said to derive their gifts from 
 the mother. What Lady Bacon may have contributed 
 she cultivated. Her son's delicate constitution con- 
 signed him to her care and companionship. Aided by 
 a private tutor, she superintended his education. His 
 studies were probably confined to Greek, Latin, French 
 and Italian literature. He and his contemporary, 
 Shakspeare, were to furnish the two pillars upon which 
 the literary fame of the Elizabethan period rests. The 
 first twelve years of his life were spent thus at home ; 
 but in an atmosphere of politics, in the company of 
 distinguished men ; and as persons of state discussed 
 affairs of state, the precocious boy stood by, probably 
 drinking in all that was said, nursing the seed of an 
 ambition that was to color his after-life. 
 
 In his thirteenth year he entered Cambridge, where 
 he remained about three years. The " New Learning " 
 
 • In the loth century of the " Sylvia," he alludes to this, in con- 
 nection with a juggler, whom he probably met in the servants' 
 hall, practising on their credulity, who would tell them which of a 
 pack of cards they thought. Bacon says he related the incident 
 to "a man that was curious and vain enough in these things. 
 This pretended learned told me it was a mistaking in me ; for, 
 said he, it was not the knowledge of the man's thought (for that 
 is proper to God), but it was enforcing a thought upon him, and 
 binding his imagination by stronger, that he could think no other 
 card." 
 
8 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 had, under Henry the Eighth, revolutionized the uni 
 varsities ; but subsequent religious, political and social 
 changes had checked progress, and stagnation was the 
 substitute for the enthusiasm of John Colet, Erasmus, 
 and his patron. Archbishop Warham. 
 
 A young mind of extraordinary originality and curi- 
 osity crossed the threshold of Trinity College, and was 
 required to don the intellectual straight-jacket of the 
 order which he joined. What they could teach he 
 mastered, but he despised their methods, and unjustly 
 identified their great master, Aristotle, with their 
 pedantic vanities and objectless labors. The impres- 
 sions he then received he subsequently dwelt upon with 
 sharp criticism, referring to his masters and fellows 
 as — 
 
 " Men of sharp and strong wits, and abundance of leisure, 
 and small variety of reading, their wits being shut up in the 
 cells of a few authors, chiefly Aristotle, their dictator. And, 
 knowing little history, either of nature or time, did, out of 
 no great quantity of matter and infinite agitation of wit, 
 spin cobwebs of learning, admirable for the fineness of 
 thread and work, but of no substance or profit." * 
 
 Translation from his father's house, from conversa- 
 tion with a mother who employed her learning and gifts 
 in the sharp controversies, the living issues of the day, 
 exchanging the society of men dealing with the stern 
 realities, and working for the glorious possibilities, of 
 Elizabeth's reign, for the society of pedantic quibblers, 
 invited contrasts, awakened reflections, and, in the 
 end, inspired him to become the apostle of philosophic 
 
 * Contentious Learning, — Ad. of Learning. 
 
HIS LIFK AND CHARACTER. 9 
 
 and philanthropic truth. All of his biographers agree 
 that, as a boy at the university, Bacon contemplated 
 the revolution which he afterwards initiated. 
 
 In his sixteenth year he left Cambridge without 
 regret, and accompanied Sir Amias Paulet, the English 
 ambassador, to France. His father regarded the 
 opportunity as favorable for introducing his son into 
 the mysteries of diplomacy and state-craft. The Queen 
 lied at home, and her ministers lied abroad, for the good 
 of the country ; so that the school was a good one for 
 the disciple in one sense, although probably a bad one 
 in another. It is likely that Bacon's moral nature 
 received an unfavorable bias from this early entrance 
 into diplomacy. He performed no service other than 
 bearing a dispatch to England, it is true ; but it is 
 probable that his thirst for office was then awakened, 
 and his contemplation of the devious ways of the dip- 
 lomats familiarized him with the doctrine of any means 
 to attain an end. 
 
 His stay in the country of Montaigne doubtless sug- 
 gested his " Essays." His treatises on the state of 
 Europe, and on cipher-writing, were subsequent fruits 
 of his pen. His elegant and charming manners, and 
 brilliant conversation, may be credited, in part, to his 
 residence among a people whose national mission seems 
 to be that of polishing the universe. 
 
 After an absence of about two years, he was recalled 
 by the sudden death of Sir Nicholas, and returned to a 
 fatherless home and friendless court. 
 
 Lawyer-like, the Lord Keeper was more prompt in 
 drafting other people's wills than his own, so he died 
 intestate. The estate he had intended to purchase for 
 Francis was never bought; and the father, who had 
 
10 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 provided for the sons by his first marriage, and even 
 for Bacon's own brother, neglected to secure anything 
 to his favorite child, and left him to confront compar- 
 ative poverty on the threshold of manhood. 
 
 Possessing rare gifts, which had received flattering 
 recognition and encouragement, reared in ease, and 
 assured of competency. Bacon had, previous to his 
 father's death, never seriously contemplated other than 
 scholarly and philosophical pursuits, and political em- 
 ployment, as the road to honors and fame, rather than 
 livelihood. But now, in his own words, he was con- 
 strained to " think how to live, instead of living only 
 to think." And his first move seems to have been an 
 application, through his uncle, the Lord Treasurer, to 
 the Queen for preferment at court. An answer appears 
 to have been given which encouraged hope for awhile j 
 but whether his confidence in his uncle's sincerity 
 wavered, or he thought voluntary application to the 
 study of the legal profession would evidence his alac- 
 rity and ability for self-denying industry, and favorably 
 impress both Queen and minister, does not appear. 
 However, he became a student at Gray's Inn, Basil 
 Montague and Lord Campbell say, reluctantly; but 
 Mr. Spedding tells us that " his intention was to study 
 the common law as his profession." In a letter to 
 Lord Burghley, from Gray's Inn, September i6th, 1580, 
 Bacon renewed his appeal to his uncle : 
 
 " My letter hath no further errand but to commend unto 
 your lordship the remembrance of my suit, which then I 
 moved unto you; whereof it also pleased your lordship to 
 give me a good hearing, so far forth as to promise to tender 
 it unto Her Majesty, and withal to add, in the behalf of it, 
 that which I may better deliver by letter than by speech, 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. ii 
 
 which is, that although it must be confessed that the request 
 is rare and unaccustomed, yet if it be observed how few 
 there be which fall in with the study of the common laws, 
 either being well left or friended, or at their own free elec- 
 tion, or forsaking likely success in other studies of more 
 delight, and no less preferment, or setting hand thereunto 
 early, without waste of years: upon such survey made, it 
 may be my case may not seem ordinary, no more my suit, 
 and so more beseeming unto it." 
 
 Whether he meant to express to his uncle his distaste 
 for the profession of the law, or to exhibit himself 
 boldly entering upon its study to prepare himself for 
 employment in the Queen's service, is, as far as light 
 can be obtained from his letter, left to conjecture ; but 
 his subsequent career seems to afford conclusive proof 
 that he had neither an ambition nor the fitness to 
 become a common-law practioner. 
 
 This early correspondence, urging the Lord Treasurer 
 to use his influence with the Queen, and urging Lady 
 Burghley to use her influence with the Lord Treasurer, 
 in his behalf, exhibits him, for the first time, in the role 
 of a place-hunter. It also indicates, by its unsuccessful 
 issue, the reluctance on the part of his powerful rela- 
 tive to afford him any assistance in the direction of 
 preferment under the crown. 
 
 Although Bacon had fixed his eye on a place at 
 court, his disappointment did not prevent him from 
 bending to the oar of uncongenial labor. When we 
 reflect on his vast attainments, we must credit him with 
 diligence in every undertaking. Close application to 
 year-book, report, and the few text-books then extant, 
 relieved by occasional excursion into the pleasant fields 
 of philosophy, occupied the period embraced between 
 
12 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 the years 1580 and 1584, when he took his seat for 
 Melcombe in the House of Commons. This parliament 
 is distinguished for the opposition which the Lower 
 House displayed to the Queen on the question of 
 church government. The Act of Uniformity and plots 
 against the Queen's life made all its members Pro- 
 testants ; the intense anti-protestantism of the continent 
 made a majority of its members sympathizers with the 
 Non-conformists. 
 
 " Puritanism," says the historian Green, " was becoming 
 the creed of every earnest Protestant throughout the realm ; 
 and the demand for a further advance towards the Calvin- 
 istic system, and a more open breach with Catholicism 
 which was embodied in the suppression of the 'supersti- 
 tious usages,' became stronger than ever. But Elizabeth 
 was firm, as of old, to make no advance. Greatly as the 
 Protestants had grown, she knew they were still a minority 
 in the realm. If the hotter Catholics were fast decreasing, 
 they remained a large and important body. But the mass 
 of the nation was neither Catholic nor Protestant. It had 
 lost its faith in the Papacy. It was slowly drifting to a new 
 faith in the Bible. But it still clung obstinately to the past; 
 it still recoiled from violent change ; its temper was religious 
 rather than theological, and it shrank from the fanaticism of 
 Geneva as it shrank from the fanaticism of Rome. It was 
 a proof of Ehzabeth's genius, that, alone, among her coun- 
 cillors, she understood this drift of opinion, and withstood 
 measures which would have startled the mass of Englishmen 
 into a new resistance." 
 
 Through the Ecclesiastical Commission and Whit- 
 gift she repressed Puritanism. She scotched the snake, 
 but did not kill it. She postponed English reformation 
 to a time when its success would assure the preserva- 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 13 
 
 tion, not the destruction, of English liberties. But, in 
 the meanwhile, those church controversies which were 
 to enlist Bacon's pen grew warmer. 
 
 Bacon had served a part of his apprenticeship at the 
 bar, and in this period mastered whatever difficulties 
 confronted the ordinary student, and which may have 
 required of such continuous application through the 
 five preparatory years which were the prerequisite to 
 the admission to practice. But that his heart was not 
 in his profession is evident from the somewhat des- 
 perate tone of his letter to Walsingham, whom he puts 
 in remembrance of the suit for court service which he 
 had previously pressed on Burghley's notice. 
 
 "The very stay," he says, "doth in this respect concern 
 me, because I am thereby hindered to take a course of 
 practice, which, by the leave of God, if Her Majesty like 
 not of my suit, I must and will follow. Not," he disingen- 
 uously adds, " for my necessity of estate, but for my credit's 
 sake, which, I know, by living out of action wiU mar." 
 
 Disingenuously, because his father's failure to make 
 provision for him made a profession or office abso- 
 lutely necessary. For, in his own language, he had to 
 think how to live instead of living only to think. 
 
 When Mrs. Shandy could not go up to London, she 
 declined the services of Dr. Slop. Whereupon the 
 autobiographer exclaims, " Now, this I like. When 
 you cannot get the thing you want, never be satisfied 
 with the next best thing to it." This Shandean theory 
 had no place in the Baconian philosophy, for when the 
 would-be courtier was disappointed in one direction, 
 with characteristic facility he turned his face in another. 
 His suit, whatever it was, failed. Now he applied to 
 
14 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 be admitted to active practice by a short cut, which 
 would lop off two of his five years' probation. 
 
 Professional men are generally conceited respecting 
 the exacting claims, as well as ennobling characteristics 
 of their callings. Blackstone dabbled in verse until he 
 took up "Coke on Littleton," when he wrote a farewell 
 to his muse, lest she should charm him from his more 
 serious studies. Fearne, the celebrated author of 
 "Contingent Remainders," delighted in philosophy, 
 and wrote his " Anti-Tooke " in reply to the " Diver- 
 sions of Purley ; " but destroyed every vestige of his 
 pleasant pursuit when he took up " Special Pleading." 
 
 Bacon differed from this class in regarding his pro- 
 fession but as a branch of that universal knowledge 
 within the reach of a comprehensive and diligent mind. 
 His position is evidenced by his passing from the law's 
 dry details to philosophy, and by his writing, as a law- 
 student, his " Masculine Birth of Time," the fore- 
 shadowing of his "Novum Organum." 
 
 The long apprenticeship which bench and bar then 
 required grew irksome to him. Had not his wonderful 
 mind mastered all that book and instructor could 
 teach ? Why should he not enjoy some of the fruits of 
 being a Lord Keeper's son, a Lord Treasurer's 
 nephew ? It was natural enough for him to apply to 
 his uncle to facilitate his entrance upon active profes- 
 sional life. And he did apply, — heedless of Lord 
 Burghley's indisposition to help him. Instead of 
 encouragement and aid, he received a lecture for his 
 arrogancy, to which he replied with that humility which 
 never takes offense, because it is always fearful of 
 offending. 
 
 The probability is that Burghley dreaded to bring 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 15 
 
 his nephew in contact with his son, Robert Cecil ; the 
 contrast would have been apparent and damaging. 
 Hence, repression came to Bacon from a quarter where 
 advancement might have been confidently expected. 
 
 But, notwithstanding Burghley's rebuke, his desire 
 was finally gratified ; and, sometime in the year 1586, he 
 became a full-fledged lawyer. 
 
 But of his professional career, for awhile, if he had 
 one, nothing is known, and the history of his legislative 
 career is almost as vague. He sat in the parliament 
 which succeeded the trial of Mary, Queen of Scots ; 
 he spoke on "The Great Cause," and joined in the 
 unanimous vote for plucking the thorn from the side of 
 Elizabeth ; he was one of a committee of conference to 
 offer the Queen a benevolence in the place of an addi- 
 tional subsidy; and in the discussion of this subject 
 became, probably, impregnated with certain patriotic 
 notions against increasing taxation beyond the limits 
 of time-honored precedents. 
 
 He was prominent in the next parliament, which 
 granted a double subsidy, with a precautionary clause 
 that it should not be considered as establishing a 
 precedent. 
 
 About this time, the unquenchable energy of Puri- 
 tanism burst forth and expressed its opinions in a flood 
 of secretly-printed pamphlets. The first champion was 
 one Penry, a Welchman, who, under the nom de plume 
 of Martin Marprelate, provoked the Bishop of Win- 
 chester to religious controversy. Penry subsequently 
 enjoyed the distinction of being hanged, which was a 
 reflection upon the bishop's controversial powers. 
 Bacon seems to have been of the opinion that the con- 
 troversy needed volunteer pens, for he now wrote his 
 
1 6 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 admirable paper entitled " An Advertisement touching 
 the Controversies of the Church of England," which 
 was, years after, revived to allay the radicalism as well 
 of the Long Parliament as of the Restoration. 
 
 The ability displayed in this pamphlet led to the 
 employment of his pen in the preparation of a paper to 
 impress on the continental mind that, although English 
 sectaries were apparently on the eve of cutting one 
 another's throats, they would forego this luxury and 
 coalesce, rather than the throne should be endangered 
 by domestic dissension becoming an ally to foreign 
 invasion. 
 
 This service may have propitiated his uncle ; for, a 
 few years afterwards, Bacon received the reversion of a 
 place worth sixteen hundred pounds a year; but he 
 was kept out of its enjoyment by an incumbent who 
 lived and enjoyed the office during twenty years 
 succeeding. 
 
 From a letter to the Earl of Leicester, written in 
 1588, in which Bacon asks for something, it appears 
 that the acquaintance with the Earl of Essex had been 
 initiated, which was to ripen into a disinterested 
 friendship on the Earl's part. 
 
 Bacon's brother, Anthony, had resided abroad for 
 many years, where he had employed his time and 
 talents in the role of an amateur diplomat, — just as 
 George Selwyn was an amateur headsman. In 1592 
 Anthony returned to England, and he locked hands 
 with Francis, and Francis' young friend, the Earl of 
 Essex. The information which Anthony had supplied 
 to his uncle Burghley was now given to Essex, who 
 was aspiring to rivalry with the Lord Treasurer for 
 influence over the Queen. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 17 
 
 A .profitless reversion, and an appointment as 
 Counsel Extraordinary to the Queen, the reward of 
 which was one of Elizabeth's faded smiles, were all 
 that Bacon had received in the line of preferment at 
 court. When he entered on his thirty-second year he 
 again addressed himself to his uncle, whom he calls 
 "the Atlas of this Commonwealth, the honor of my 
 house, and the second founder of my poor estate." 
 After referring to the meanness of his estate, he tells 
 Burghley that if he will not " carry him on," he will 
 sell what he has, and "become some sorry book- 
 maker." 
 
 Neither flattery nor threat seems to have moved the 
 Lord Treasurer. Bacon returned to Gray's Inn, and 
 employed his pen in his " Observations on a Libel," 
 and his " Discourse in Praise of his Sovereign." The 
 only fruits either bore were rhetorical, unless the 
 refusal of recognition on the part of his uncle resulted 
 in knitting him closer to Essex, which is more than 
 probable ; since, many years after, upon sending Buck- 
 ingham the patent creating him a viscount, he wrote : 
 " In the time of the Cecils, the father and the son, able 
 men, were by design and of purpose suppressed." 
 
 It is a popular belief that queens who love their 
 people must have a special single object for their 
 superfluous affection. Some love their husbands, some 
 love their lovers, others love their lap-dogs. Elizabeth 
 had neither husband nor lap-dog; but the Queen's 
 lover was as essential to her court as the king's jester 
 to that of her father. Nor was she fastidious respect- 
 ing the status of her favorite as another woman's 
 husband. She apparently applied the principle of 
 eminent domain to the marital relation, and regarded 
 
l8 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 every wife as the mere sub-tenant of a husband's 
 affection. 
 
 Robert Devereaux, Earl of Essex, was now the 
 Queen's favorite. He was handsome, brave, impulsive 
 and headstrong ; generous to his friends and followers, 
 jealous of, and unjust to, his rivals. His relations with 
 the Queen were a compound of comedy and tragedy. 
 
 Now fondling an old woman's bony hand, next 
 rebelling against an old woman's bad temper; while 
 she, on her part, to-day admitted him to the familiarity 
 of a lover, and to-morrow required the obedience of a 
 subject and obsequiousness of a courtier. Sometimes 
 she granted his most extravagant demands ; at others 
 refused his most reasonable requests. 
 
 His ambition was insatiate. The Queen had con- 
 ferred military honors and offices upon him which were 
 envied by veteran soldiers ; and now, at the age of 
 twenty-three, he entered the lists against Burghley for 
 civil employment, influence and power. 
 
 It was at this period of the Earl's career that the 
 friendship between him and Bacon reached its height. 
 About the same time, the intrigues of Spain with 
 Scotland inspired the summoning of a parliament; 
 which was informed by the Lord Keeper, the Queen 
 being present, that supplies were wanted to confront 
 the threatening dangers; that there was no need of 
 new laws, the superfluity of old ones requiring 
 abridgment. 
 
 The admirers of Bacon point, with pardonable pride, 
 to the fact that he seized the opportunity for a speech 
 on law reform, in respect to which he was far in 
 advance of his contemporaries. 
 
 He was a law-maker as well as lawyer, and suggested 
 
• HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. I9 
 
 improvements which tardy legislation has, within com- 
 paratively recent times, adopted. 
 
 His second speech in this parliament had a- serious 
 influence upon his after-life. The demand of the 
 Queen was, after an altercation between the two houses, 
 responded to by a motion for the grant of an unprece- 
 dented supply, collectable in a brief period. 
 
 Bacon, in a moment of impulsive patriotism, or, 
 willing to resent the neglect he had suffered at the 
 hands of the government, spoke against the motion, 
 and said, " It is impossible ; the poor men's rent is 
 such as they are not able to yield it, and the general 
 commonalty is not able to pay so much upon the 
 present. The gentlemen must sell their plate, and the 
 farmers their brass pots ere this will be paid." 
 
 Such language was strange to the time and the place. 
 It was paralleled by Colepepper, speaking of monop- 
 olists, in the Long Parliament, when he said, "They 
 sup in our cup ; they dip in our dish ; they sit by our 
 fire ; we find them in the dye-fat, the wash-bowls, and 
 the powdering-tub." Hence, it must have electrified 
 Bacon's contemporaries, stricken Burghley dumb, and 
 loosened the Queen's tongue, and made her profanely 
 voluble. 
 
 She conveyed her displeasure to the nephew through 
 his too-willing uncle ; and Bacon replied, in a letter to 
 Burghley, in which he claims the inspiration of the best 
 motives for his speech, and begs him to continue him 
 in his good opinion, " to perform the part of an honest 
 iriend towards your poor servant and ally, 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 favor." 
 
20 FRANCIS BACON ; '^ 
 
 If it be just to test a man's sincerity by contrasting 
 his conduct in after-life, and under similar circum' 
 stances, with a position formerly assumed, Bacon's 
 sympathy for the poor would appear to have been 
 assumed, and his respect for precedents affected. In 
 the parhament of 1601, when the largest grant ever 
 received by the Queen was voted. Bacon opposed a 
 proposition to exempt the poor tax-payer, — " the three- 
 pound men," and said "it was dulcis tradus pari jugo, 
 and therefore the poor, as well as the rich, not to be 
 exempted." In other words, he answered his own 
 early arguments, and voted against his own early 
 principles. 
 
 ' After having been rendered unhappy by the Queen's 
 anger, and consequent exile from her presence, it seems 
 that he contemplated some change in his life, which, 
 however, was not carried into execution, because of the 
 disapproval of Essex, to whom Bacon yielded, "because 
 it is the best wisdom in any man, in his own matters, 
 to rest in the wisdom of a friend; but, also, because 
 my affection to your Lordship hath made mine own 
 contentment inseparable from your satisfaction." 
 
 In the meantime, Bacon was embarrassed by a 
 limited income and unlimited debts. 
 
 " If a young man has parts and poverty he can get 
 along at the bar," says an old English judge. Bacon 
 was provided with these prerequisites, but had no 
 success in his profession commensurate with- his abil- 
 ities. He was a little Cosmos of contradictions. His 
 heart was enslaved by philosophy, yet the tool of an 
 office-seeking ambition. He sighed for a contempla- 
 tive life, while aspiring to a prominent place among his 
 busiest contemporaries. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 21 
 
 Amid contradictory desires and embarrassing sur- 
 roundings, instead of centering his hopes and endeavors 
 in a single direction, he was subservient to every breeze 
 which seemed to blow from a favorable quarter. In 
 1593 a vacancy was about to occur in the office of 
 Attorney-General ; and Bacon, an almost briefless bar- 
 rister, at the age of thirty-three, fixed his eye upon the 
 place. Essex probably encouraged him with assurances 
 more sanguine than certain. 
 
 The candidate's experience discouraged him from 
 addressing Burghley directly, so he sought to propitiate 
 the Lord Treasurer's sons, — Sir Thomas and Sir 
 Robert Cecil. His letter to his cousin Robert, whom 
 he calls "your honor," is in an humble strain, and is 
 replied to in a frank, friendly form, as insincere as 
 Bacon's. 
 
 Essex, with characteristic generosity, became his 
 warmest advocate with the Queen. Bacon wrote Eliz- 
 abeth a letter of a manly tone, which contained an 
 assurance that if his friends pressed his suit his spirit 
 was not with them, — an assurance irreconcilable with 
 the facts, incompatible with the truth. 
 
 Nothing but the friendly enthusiasm of Essex could 
 have excused his application to an unforgiving woman 
 with an unforgetting faculty, for a favor such as he now 
 asked. And, as might have been expected, she con- 
 fronted his friend with the speech against granting the 
 Queen what she most needed in a perilous situation. 
 
 Sir Edward Coke, Bacon's life-long rival, was made 
 Attorney-General, in spite of the "uttermost credit, 
 friendship and authority " which Essex, as favorite and 
 a Privy-Councillor, pledged in Bacon's behalf. 
 
 A fresh scent was taken up as soon as the old was 
 
22 FRANCIS BACON j i: 
 
 dropped, by Bacon pursuing the Solicitor-General- 
 ship. 
 
 He received the same hearty support from Essex, 
 and more encouragement from other influential men 
 who had access to the Queen. In a letter, thanking 
 Essex, he repeats his threat of retirement to private 
 life, and devotion to studies and contemplation; but, 
 with this inviting and, to Bacon, appropriate career 
 before him, he descends to the ignoble suggestions of 
 a place-hunter. "The objection to my competitors 
 your Lordship knoweth partly. I pray, spare them not, 
 not over the Queen, but to the great ones, to show 
 your confidence, and work their distaste." 
 
 The Queen postponed the selection of a Solicitor- 
 General, but became reconciled sufficiently to employ 
 Bacon as Counsel-Extraordinary, sending him on a 
 journey at his own cost, which compelled him to call 
 his brother Anthony's better credit in play, to borrow 
 the wherewithal to meet his travelling expenses. 
 
 He was halted by sudden illness. From his sick- 
 room he wrote to the Queen: "Most gracious and 
 admirable Sovereign, as I do acknowledge a providence 
 of God towards me that findeth it expedient for me 
 tokrare jugum in juventate mea, so this present arrest of 
 me by His Divine Majesty, from your Majesty's service, 
 is not the least affliction I have proved," etc., bringing 
 the two sovereignties in a juxtaposition, as he repeatedly 
 did afterwards in royal correspondence, in a manner 
 shocking to all sense of propriety. 
 
 Without fulfilling his mission, he returned to London, 
 having, on the way, received the degree of Master of 
 Arts from Cambridge. He closed the year in writing 
 the part of a discourse touching the safety of the Queen 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 23 
 
 against conspiracies, in the examination into a plot for 
 the murder of Elizabeth ; and in the preparation and 
 conduct of elaborate holiday festivities at Gray's Inn. 
 
 Essex, being of the opinion that the Queen really set 
 a high price on Bacon's services, acquainted her with 
 his threat of retirement should he fail in procuring the 
 long-sought preferment. This, it seems, produced a 
 summons of Bacon to court. He did not see the 
 Queen, but had an interview with his cousin. Sir Robert 
 Cecil, who entertained him with a report of Elizabeth's 
 anger that he should have presumed to hasten her 
 decision. " Then Her Majesty sweareth that if I con- 
 tinue in this manner she will seek all England for a 
 solicitor rather than take me ; that she never dealt so 
 with any as with me ; she hath pulled me over the bar 
 (note the words, for they cannot be her own). We 
 (i. e. Bacon and his cousin) parted in kindness secun- 
 dum exterius." Thus he writes to his brother, Anthony, 
 and we infer that he suspected his cousin of secret 
 enmity; and, instead of then replying to what Sir 
 Robert said, he craved the privilege of putting his 
 answer in writing, which he did in a letter to his cousin, 
 disclaiming his purpose of travelling to have been a 
 "present motion," or that he authorized Essex to make 
 known his resolve, and referred to the latter for sub- 
 stantiation of this statement. 
 
 The favorite pressed his friend's suit urgently and 
 eloquently, but in vain; for, on November 5th, 1596, 
 Sergeant Fleming became Solicitor-General. 
 
 Disappointed and dejected. Bacon sought retirement 
 and consolation. The villa of Essex afforded him an 
 . asylum, and philosophy gave him comfort. 
 
 The warm-hearted Earl shared his chagrin and 
 
24 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 soothed his sorrow by giving him an estate worth 
 ;^i,8oo. This, Bacon coquetted about accepting, but 
 accepted. 
 
 The embittered spirits of the two friends yielded to 
 the influences of time, and Essex, with the aid of Bacon, 
 celebrated the Queen's birthday, after the former had 
 allayed her suspicious mind respecting his patronage 
 of a book on the forbidden question of the succession. 
 
 The publication, about this time, of Bacon's first 
 edition of his Essays, ten in number, the " Colors of 
 Good and Evil," and the " Meditationes Sacrm" pro- 
 claimed to the world that the place-hunter was not only 
 a place-hunter ; and their reception must have more 
 than consoled and comforted the author. 
 
 His friend Essex, in 1596, returned from the suc- 
 cessful expedition against Cadiz, which might have 
 conferred additional lustre on English arms if the Earl's 
 advice had been followed, and Spain's Indian fleet 
 engaged. As it was, Essex was met by rumors of 
 charges against him, at court, by rivals jealous of his 
 success and the fame it procured him ; which was 
 increased when it was discovered that Spain's Indian 
 fleet placidly sailed into the Tagus, when it might 
 have been intercepted, if- the advice of Essex had 
 prevailed. 
 
 A thorough appreciation of the Earl's impulsive 
 nature, of his frank and unguarded conduct, of the 
 jealousy which too great popularity with the people 
 might excite in the Queen's breast, inspired Bacon to 
 now write his friend a long letter of advice, which has 
 more the tone of a Machiavelli than a moralist. 
 
 After asking the Earl " to consider, first, whether I . 
 have not reason to think that your fortune compre- 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 25 
 
 hendeth mine," he urges him to " win the Queen ; " 
 then, picturing what an unfavorable turn to his relations 
 with Elizabeth might be brought about by his enemies 
 using and abusing his popularity, his military renown, 
 his very nearness to the Queen, he proceeds to advise 
 how he may render the Queen unsusceptible to such 
 influences, commending, in brief, a course of deceit. 
 He says : — 
 
 "Next, whereas I have noted you to fly and avoid (in 
 some respect justly) the resemblance or imitation of my 
 Lord of Leicester and my Lord Chancellor Hatton; yet I 
 am persuaded (howsoever I wish your Lordship as distant 
 as you are from them in points of favor, integrity, magna- 
 nimity, and merit,) that it will do you much good between 
 the Queen and you, to allege them (as oft as you find occa- 
 sion) for authors and patterns. For I do not know a readier 
 mean to make Her Majesty think you are in your right way." 
 
 Next, he criticises his method of flattering the 
 Queen, and commends a better course : — 
 
 "Fourthly," he says, "your Lordship should never be 
 without some particulars afoot, which you should seem to 
 pursue with earnestness and affection, and then let them 
 fail, upon taking knowledge of Her Majesty's opposition and 
 dislike. ... A less weighty sort of particulars may be 
 tlie pretense of some journeys, which, at Her Majesty's 
 request, your Lordship mought relinquish ; as if you would 
 pretend a journey to see your living and estate towards 
 Wales, or the like; for, as for great foreign journeys of 
 employment and service, it standeth not with your gravity 
 to play or stratagem with them." 
 
 The teacher was a thoughtful, contemplative, delib 
 
26 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 erate man, a professed moralist and philosopher ; the 
 scholar was some years his junior, impressible, with a 
 native-born disposition towards courageous frankness, 
 and toVards the taking of straight paths to a wished- 
 for goal. 
 
 A few years later. Bacon protested "that he had 
 spent more time in vain in studying how to make the 
 Earl a good servant to the Queen and State than he 
 had done in anything else." 
 
 An appeal from Bacon to Bacon never fails to 
 condemn the courtier out of the mouth of the 
 philosopher. 
 
 Twenty years later he addressed a letter of advice to 
 the favorite of another sovereign : — 
 
 "You are now the king's favorite, so voted and so 
 esteemed by all. . . . You are as a continual sentinel, 
 always to stand upon your watch, to give him true intelli- 
 gence. If you flatter him, you betray him. If you conceal 
 the truth of those things from him which concern his justice 
 or his honor, 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 Let him (the king) take on him this 
 
 resolution, as King David did. ' There shall no deceitful 
 person dwell in my hottse.' .... But neither in jest 
 nor earnest must there be countenance or ear given to flat- 
 terers or sycophants, the bane of all courts." * 
 
 The two letters differ in tone, because Bacon knew 
 that Elizabeth would not see one, and that James I. 
 would see the other. 
 
 Before dismissing the consideration of this remark- 
 
 • Advice to Villiers. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 27 
 
 able letter to Essex, a further quotation will throw 
 more light upon the almost inconceivable inconsist- 
 ency between Bacon in politics and Bacon in the 
 closet : — 
 
 " Lastly, to be plain with your Lordship (for the gentlemen 
 are such as I am beholden to), nothing can make the Queen 
 or the world think so much that you are come to a provident 
 care of your estate, as the altering of some of your officers, 
 who, though they be as true to you as one hand to the other, 
 yet opinio veritate major" 
 
 My singular good Lord ! some of your officers have 
 placed me under obligations to their kindness ; they are 
 as true as steel to you, but their dismissal from your 
 service would be favorably commented on by the 
 gossips, whose opinion is greater than truth ; therefore 
 I advise you to reward their consideration for me 
 and faithfulness to you by turning them out into the 
 cold. 
 
 During the chase for the place of Solicitor-General, 
 the enemies of Bacon under-estimated his legal lore 
 and ability to the Queen, so that she told Essex, that, 
 while she acknowledged his friend's " excellent gift of 
 speech, that in law she rather thought he could show 
 to the uttermost than that he was deep." 
 
 Bacon now vindicated himself from this charge by 
 writing his "Maxims" and "Use of the Common 
 Law," — very valuable expositions of law as a science, 
 as far as they went, and far more philosophical in 
 treatment than contemporary works on the same 
 subject. 
 
 His fortune did not keep pace with the fame which 
 attended his writings; his practice, never lucrative. 
 
28 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 must have suffered from neglect incident to pursuit of 
 office ; and, failing to obtain relief by preferment, he 
 concluded to try the last resort of a respectable 
 beggary, — marriage for money. 
 
 The object of his speculative design was Lady 
 Hatton, a lively young widow, sandwiched between a 
 great fortune and a bad temper. He enlisted Essex in 
 this enterprise : — 
 
 "My suit to your Lordship," he writes, "is for your 
 several letters to be left with me, dormant, to the gentle- 
 woman, and either of her parents ; wherein I do not doubt 
 but as the beams of your favor have often dissolved the 
 coldness of my fortune, so, in this argument, your Lordship 
 will do the like with your pen." 
 
 With commendatory forethought, in order to provide 
 for more than a single path to support, he adds : — 
 
 " My desire is, also, that your Lordship would vouchsafe 
 unto me a general letter to My Lord Keeper, for his Lord- 
 ship's holding me from you recommended, — both in the 
 course of my practice and in the course of my employment 
 in Her Majesty's service." 
 
 The letter closes with some wise and friendly hints 
 to the Earl, who was about setting out in charge of an 
 expedition against the Spanish treasure-fleet. Bacon's 
 timid and prudent nature regarded the eminence of his 
 friend as a dangerous height, from which he might, at 
 any time, have a fatal fall ; and, therefore, did not 
 approve, in his heart, of his undertaking. Essex, in 
 the midst of his busy preparations, wrote a warm, 
 earnest and eloquent endorsement of the suitor, who 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 29 
 
 must have been a cold lover, for nothing came of his 
 marital candidacy. The lady shortly afterwards ran 
 off with Sir Edward Coke, to whom she was married. 
 Thus was another victory secured for the lawyer over 
 the philosopher. 
 
 The ways of widows are inscrutable. Bacon was 
 younger than Coke, was handsome, amiable and agree- 
 able ; Sir Edward was an ill-tempered, overbearing 
 widower. There were, it was said, seven comprehensive 
 and conclusive marital objections against Coke, — his 
 six children and himself. 
 
 The loss of this lady was Bacon's first stroke of good 
 fortune. Her disagreeable qualities amounted to dis- 
 agreeable abilities. She led her husband such a life, 
 that, had he been a more sensitive man, he must have 
 sought relief in death or Doctor's Commons. 
 
 Bacon was a disappointed suitor, not a dejected 
 lover. It is doubtful whether the author of the essay 
 on " Marriage and Single Life " ever felt the tender 
 passion, or confessed to the soft impeachment. Apro- 
 pos to the runaway match of the great English lawyer, 
 the following anecdote is recorded in Mr. F. F. Heard's 
 " Oddities of the Law." 
 
 "In the year 1598, Sir Edward Coke, then Attorney- 
 General, married the Lady Hatton, according to the Book 
 of Common Prayer, but without banns or license, and in a 
 private house. Several great men were there present, as 
 Lord Burleigh, Lord Chancellor Egerton, etc. They all, by 
 their proctor, submitted to the censure of the archbishop, 
 who granted them an absolution from the excommunication 
 which they had incurred. The act of absolution set forth 
 that it was granted by reason of penitence, and the act 
 seeming to have been done through ignorance of the law." 
 
30 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 In the parliament of 1597, to which Bacon was now 
 returned, he became one of the most active and promi- 
 nent members. He voted for a subsidy equal to the 
 one he had opposed in his unfortunate speech ; and his 
 whole career indicated that he possessed the confidence 
 and respect of the House, while it must have propi- 
 tiated the Queen, and subdued her lively recollection 
 of his early opposition to large grants and quick 
 payments. 
 
 Essex, in the meanwhile, returned from his naval 
 expedition, which was unsuccessful, as he failed to 
 intercept the Spanish fleet. Sir Walter Raleigh, second 
 in command, however, was fortunate enough to meet 
 with three stragglers ; he improved the opportunity for 
 bravery and enterprise, as was his custom, and com- 
 pelled them to strike their colors. He received, for 
 his reward, the jealous enmity of the impulsive Essex, 
 who was irritated by his own failure. 
 
 The Queen was not pleased with the result, nor 
 with the management of Essex; for his fleet strag- 
 gled home, and found the south coast alarmed by 
 fears of dangers, from the channel being left entirely 
 unprotected. 
 
 Essex retreated to his favorite asylum, — the sulks, 
 from which he was lured by the Queen's partiality, who 
 restored him fully to her good graces, honored him 
 with promotions, and employed him to perform the 
 offices of Secretary, in the absence of Sir Robert Cecil, 
 who had been sent on a special mission to France. In 
 his new capacity, Essex was called on to deal with 
 affairs in Ireland which were of a serious nature. 
 Bacon volunteered his advice, which was of a cautious 
 character. The closing paragraph of the letter indi- 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 31 
 
 cates a desire, on Bacon's part, for his friend to improve 
 the opportunity, and a belief in his fitness to deal with 
 the subject-matter : — 
 
 " If your Lordship," he writes, " doubt to put your sickle 
 in another's harvest ; first, time brings it to you in Mr. Sec- 
 retary's absence ; next, being mixed with matter of war, it is 
 fittest for you ; and, lasdy, I know your Lordship will carry 
 it with that modesty and respect towards aged dignity, and 
 that good correspondence towards my dear kinsman and 
 your good friend now abroad, as no inconvenience may grow 
 that way. Thus have I played the ignorant statesman, 
 which I do to nobody but your Lordship ; except the Queen, 
 sometimes, when she trains me on. But your Lordship will 
 accept my duty and good meaning, and secure me touching 
 the privateness of that I write." 
 
 Essex was pleased with Bacon's friendly interest and 
 the sound advice ; and, in reply, acquainted him with 
 the situation, so that he might no longer play the 
 " ignorant statesman," but advise from a more intelli- 
 gent standpoint. Bacon replies ; and, after saying, " I 
 will shoot my fool's bolt, since you will have it so," 
 proceeds to submit suggestions well worth the consid- 
 eration of all concerned in the important issue. One 
 paragraph of his letter is quoted, because it may throw 
 some light on the question of what was Bacon's exact 
 relation to Essex in this affair. 
 
 " And, but that your Lordship is too easy to pass, in such 
 cases, from dissimulation to verity, I think if your Lordship 
 lent your reputation in this case, — that is, to pretend that if 
 peace go not on, and the Queen mean not to make a defen- 
 sive war, as in times past, but a full re-conquest of those 
 parts of the country, you would escape the charge, — I think 
 
32 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 it would heip co settle Tyrone in his seeking accord, and 
 win you a great deal of horvor gratis." 
 
 The remainder of this letter abounds in wise counsel 
 for establishing peace and prosperity in the rebellious 
 isle. 
 
 Sir Robert Cecil having returned from France, the 
 subject was further discussed, especially in respect to 
 the selection of an officer for Ireland. 
 
 On this question, Essex quarrelled with the Queen, 
 who boxed his ears. Then, of course, came the cus- 
 tomary retirement from court, sulks, and reconciliation, 
 which inspired a letter of congratulation from Bacon, 
 in which, for the first time, he -congratulated Essex^s 
 second to another in his consideration: "And', there: 
 fore, bearing unto your' Lordship, after Her Majest4i of 
 all public persohs, the second -duty,. I .fcould not, but 
 signify unto y&u my. gratulation." a '^- /■' ,^ 
 
 While Bacon was shooting his "fool'k*Dalt,"j%pd 
 playing "the ignoraifl: statesr^an," his oH.igationfe were 
 maturing. Ext^ajf^a^ce^; improvidence,; a;ttention to 
 everything buti hursHig'his paying practibe\(for he got 
 nothing for his ^erasiees to the Queen), laid Tiim at, the 
 mercy of a money-lender, who .consigned him to a 
 sponging-hous4 , for the non-payment i,of a debt of 
 ;^3oo. He was released through the ' interposition of 
 friends, but probably entered into liberty as a candi- 
 date for the delator's g^ol^ ^ ,.,s. 
 
 Cruel, indeed," -wouldj ha've fortune been to Bacon, Jf,: 
 in the midst of finan^ai-etnb&rlSsmenfs and his"lick 
 of briefs, she had not cheered him with a single smile. 
 The fact is that he was consoled by the consideration 
 which he received at the Queen's hands. It put no 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 33 
 
 money in his purse ; it brought no lucrative prefer- 
 ment. She accepted his services, which were valuable 
 and untiring; she fed his hopes, and he was happy. 
 Elizabeth was appeased by a consistent course of sub- 
 serviency; she admitted him into her presence, and 
 graciously accepted his gifts, one of which was a 
 "pettycoat of white sattin, embroidered all over like 
 feathers and billets, with three broad borders, fair 
 embroidered with snakes and fruitage, emblems of 
 wisdom and bounty." 
 
 About the year 1598, the intimacy between Bacon 
 and Essex seems to have cooled ; for, although there 
 was considerable controversy and excitement at court 
 over the selection of a commander of the forces to be 
 sent against the Irish rebel Tyrone, — a controversy in 
 which Essex displayed more than ordinary wrong-head- 
 edness, — we have no information of Bacon taking any 
 hand in the afEair, or interposing, to check or direct his 
 hasty and high-tempered friend. It is true that, in the 
 paragraph from Bacon's letter heretofore quoted, which 
 was written under different circumstances and before 
 the expedition was determined on, he advised him to 
 lend his reputation in the crisis, as calculated to fright- 
 en Tyrone to terms, provided the Earl would not pass 
 from dissimulation to verity. This letter, and this 
 paragraph specially, are quoted in connection with 
 Bacon's apology; by some, to prove that Bacon 
 urgently opposed Essex taking command of this expe- 
 dition. But the. letter of March, 1598, indicates that 
 Bacon thought that, by letting Tyrone know of warlike 
 preparations, which, however, should be confined to 
 England, while a peaceful policy should be pursued, 
 the object desired might be secured. What he may 
 
34 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 have meant, and probably did mean, by fearing his 
 Lordship might pass from dissimulation to verity, 
 was not to warn or advise the Earl against taking the 
 command of such an expedition, but against espousing 
 the expedition as necessary. For, when Essex was 
 occupying Cecil's relationship to the Queen, during the 
 Secretary's absence. Bacon advised him to "put his 
 sickle into another's harvest," because of its "being 
 mixed with matter of war, it is fittest for you." Taking 
 this in connection with Bacon's opinion that the name 
 of Essex would be a terror to Tyrone, it is, to some 
 minds, hardly reconcilable with the proposition that 
 Bacon earnestly advised Essex not to take the com- 
 mand. If matters of war were fittest for him in council, 
 they were fittest in the field ; if, in addition, his mere 
 name, or " reputation," would be a terror to the rebels, 
 what man so suitable to take the command, from 
 Bacon's standpoint ? Yet, if Bacon had been con- 
 sulted, not when the question of how to deal with 
 Tyrone, whether by force or with persuasion, was 
 debated, but when the expedition was determined on, 
 he would have probably advised the Earl not to accept 
 the command, if he could bring himself to directly 
 oppose such a man's desire, which is doubtful. He 
 was, however, apparently not consulted, and did not 
 proffer his opinion or advice. This seems evident 
 from hjs letter, supposed to have been written in 
 March, 1599, — the month in which the Earl set out. 
 It seems to' have been drawn from him because of his 
 reticence : — 
 
 "My singular good Lord: — Your late note of my 
 silence in your occasions hath made me set down these few 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 35 
 
 wandering lines, as one tliat would say somewhat and can 
 say nothing touching your Lordship's intended charge for 
 Ireland." 
 
 Then follow reflections on "the great merit and 
 peril of the service : a presage of success ; divination 
 of good from inwardly knowing his Lordship ; his 
 fitness proved by the choice of Her Majesty, known to 
 be one of the most judicious princes in discerning of 
 spirits that ever governed." Next he descants upon 
 the character of the country and the enemy ; then adds 
 some excellent hints as to prudent carriage, and closes 
 with wishes for the Earl's success. 
 
 In his apology. Bacon says : " Touching his going 
 into Ireland, it pleased him expressly and in set 
 manner to desire mine opinion and counsel. At which 
 time I did not only dissuade, but protest against his 
 going." Then he recites the arguments he used, "with 
 much vehemency and asseveration." These argu- 
 ments, recited in the apology, are almost identical with 
 a portion of the contents of the letter last referred to, 
 but, in the letter, disconnected with any protest against 
 Essex proceeding with the expedition. 
 
 This much space is given to this matter because the 
 lives of Bacon and Essex were so interwoven, that the 
 biography of one involves that of the other. And no 
 element of their history has provoked more discussion 
 than the conduct of Bacon towards his friend, from the 
 time Essex took command of this expedition to the 
 tragic hour when the young Earl faced death so he- 
 roically upon the block. 
 
 Reference was made to happy relations between the 
 Queen and Bacon; "but," says a clever writer, "pros- 
 
36 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 perity never points its sunshine in our faces, without 
 adversity, as our shadows, ever being at our heels." 
 
 Essex, having obtained the leadership of the Irish 
 expedition, demanded and received those extraordinary 
 powers which increase the responsibility of a com- 
 mander, add nothing to the glory of success, and 
 intensify the disgrace of failure. 
 
 His campaign was disastrous. Time, troops and 
 money were wasted, instructions were not strictly ad- 
 hered to, an interview with the rebel chieftain in the 
 middle of a stream, out of ear-shot, supplied his enemies 
 with a text for suspicion and misrepresentation ; and, 
 altogether, the enterprise ended most unfortunately for 
 the young Earl. Contrary to orders, yet confident of 
 sympathy and forgiveness, Essex conceived and exe- 
 cuted the sudden plan of hastening to England and 
 throwing himself at the feet of Elizabeth. 
 
 " Without stopping to change his dress, travel-stained as 
 he was, he sought the Queen in her chamber, and found her 
 newly-risen, with her hair about her face. He kneeled to 
 her, and kissed her hands. Elizabeth, taken by surprise, 
 gave way to her old partiality for him, and the pleasure she 
 always had in his company. He left her presence much 
 pleased with her reception, and thanked God, though he had 
 suffered much trouble and storm abroad, that he had found 
 a sweet calm at home." 
 
 The voice of one of his enemies enlisted her ear, 
 even, probably, while the tones of her favorite's still 
 lingered in her boudoir. The Queen was jealous of 
 her own affections, and self-suspicious of forgiving 
 favorites too easily ; so, the next day, Essex was 
 ordered into the custody of the Lord Keeper. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 37 
 
 In order to justify, or rather excuse, the conduct of 
 Bacon at the subsequent trial of Essex for treason, it is 
 necessary to demonstrate that the Earl fell from the 
 grace of loyalty while in Ireland, and that this vile 
 beginning concluded in his tragic end. 
 
 Of the indictment now brought against the Earl, 
 that he contemplated treason when the Queen most 
 trusted him, of the charges which are now said to have 
 been laid before the Queen, and which excited her sus- 
 picion and procured his qualified imprisonment. Bacon 
 had no information. He was not in attendance upon 
 the court at Nonsuch, and was informed, the day after 
 the Earl's arrival, that he had returned. He wrote him 
 a welcoming letter : " I have committed," he says, " to 
 this poor paper the humble salutations of him that is 
 more yours than any maris; more yours than any man." 
 
 The most that Bacon knew was that Essex had not 
 been successful, and that the Queen was disappointed 
 and his rivals were rejoicing. So he hopes "it is a 
 little cloud that will quickly pass away," and that his 
 "Lordship's wisdom and obsequious circumspection 
 and patience will turn all to the best." 
 
 He went to Nonsuch and had an interview with 
 Essex. What occurred at this quarter of an hour's 
 talk we know nothing save what is gathered from 
 Bacon's "Apology," written after the Earl was in his 
 grave. He says he told him it was "a little cloud 
 which would soon pass away, — but a mist," and added 
 to this consultation advice which Essex did not follow. 
 The quasi-disgrace of Essex occasioned murmurs among 
 the people whose idol he seems to have been ; and as 
 he was neither released nor brought to trial, the popu- 
 lace were informed, by the declaration of the principal 
 
38 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 counsellors in the Star Chamber, "what the Earl had 
 been sent out to do, what means they had provided, 
 and what he had done." 
 
 As he was not prosecuted, the people busied them- 
 selves about the problem of why the proceedings 
 stopped where they did ; why, if punishment was not 
 meted out, pardon was not granted. Popular indigna- 
 tion, hungering and thirsting for some one' to blame, is 
 not very eclectic. Bacon fell under their suspicion 
 because, say his defenders, it was given out that the 
 council favored Essex; the masses could not suspect 
 the Queen of voluntary injustice or unkindness to her 
 favorite ; but as Bacon now enjoyed frequent access to 
 the Queen's presence, being employed in law and rev- 
 enue matters, the people made him their victim, and 
 held him responsible for arresting the Queen's full for- 
 giveness of, and entire reconciliation with, Essex. 
 
 The opportunity for innocence to vindicate itself by 
 an explanation was a fine one, but Bacon did not seize 
 on it; he wrote but one public "Apology," in which he 
 defined his relations as the link between Essex and the 
 Queen, and that was done when the two were dead. 
 
 He wrote, it is true, letters to Sir Robert Cecil and 
 to Lord Henry Howard, the latter the friend of Essex, 
 who retired from court when Essex was forbidden its 
 precincts. Both letters indignantly spurned the " tale 
 shaped in London's forge," charging that Bacon repre- 
 sented to the Queen that Essex's offense "was first 
 premnnire, and now, last, that it was high treason." 
 Adding: — 
 
 " For, my Lord Essex, I am not servile to him, having 
 regard to my superior's duty. I have been much bound 
 unto him ; and, the other side, I have spent more time and 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 39 
 
 more thoughts about his well-doing than ever I did about 
 mine own. I pray God, you his friends amongst you, be 
 in the right. For my part, I have deserved better than to 
 have my name objected to envy, or my life to a ruffian's 
 violence ; but I have the privy coat of a good conscience. I 
 am sure these curses and bruits hurt my Lord more than all." 
 
 On the 5th of June, 1600, Essex was formally brought 
 before a special commission, formally tried, lightly 
 prosecuted and lightly sentenced. He was suspended 
 from the execution of his offices, and imprisoned in his 
 own house during the Queen's pleasure. Bacon per- 
 formed the part assigned him, as Queen's Councillor, 
 along with Coke, in as humane a manner as the Queen 
 designed it should be done. But we cannot forget that 
 he stood among the prosecutors of Essex. The roman- 
 tic friendship was near its end. The prisoner was not 
 in the situation to be a patron. The client who, in the 
 last of November, 1599, wrote, "I am more yours than 
 any man's ; more yours than any man," in the last of 
 July, 1600, writes: "I love few persons better than 
 yourself." 
 
 This letter and the reply present the strong contrast 
 between the two characters of the men, when the wheel 
 of fortune had reversed their lots. Essex is now a 
 petitioner. He wants strong, disinterested friendship, 
 an advocate with the Queen, who is surrounded by his 
 secret enemies ; he must depend on the unselfish devo- 
 tion of a person of influence, who, in the language of 
 Bacon, will "opportune and importune;" who, to 
 remove a stain from tlie Earl's character, a suspicion 
 of his sincerity, a doubt of his loyalty, a coldness from 
 the heart of his Queen and mistress, will spend " all his 
 power, might, authority and amity," as Essex did to 
 
40 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 obtain a paltry place for Bacon, so antagonizing the 
 Queen in his zeal for his friend that he wrote to Bacon : 
 "The Queen was not passionate against you until she 
 found I was passionate for you." 
 
 But the Earl had no such friend at court, although 
 Bacon was daily there. And Bacon, to disabuse a san- 
 guine mind of too great expectations, wrote his former 
 patron and friend the following letter, after allowing 
 nearly two months to elapse since his trial and 
 sentence, the worst feature of which was exile from the 
 presence of Elizabeth: — 
 
 "My Lord, — No man can better expound my doings 
 than your Lordship, which maketh me to need say the less. 
 Only I humbly pray you to believe that I aspire to the 
 conscience and commendation, first, of bonus civis, which, 
 with us, is a good and true servant to the Queen ; and next, 
 of bonus vir, that is, an honest man. I desire your Lord- 
 ship, also, to think, that though I confess I love some things 
 much better than I love your Lordship, — as the Queen's 
 service, her quiet and contentment, her honor, her favor, the 
 good of my country, and the like, yet I love few persons 
 better than yourself, both for gratitude's sake and for your 
 own virtues, which cannot hurt but by accident or abuse. 
 Of which my good affection I was ever, and am ready to 
 yield testimony by any good offices, but with such reserva- 
 tions as yourself cannot but allow ; for as 1 was ever sorry 
 that your Lordship should fly with waxen wings, doubting 
 Icarus' fortune ; so, for the growing up of your own feathers, 
 specially ostrich's, or any other, save of a bird of prey, no 
 man shall be more glad. And this is the axletree where- 
 upon I have turned and shall turn ; which, to signify to you, 
 though I think you are yourself persuaded as miich, in the 
 cause of writing; and so I commend your Lordship to God's 
 goodness. From Gray's Inn, this 20th day of July, 1600. 
 " Your Lordship's most humbly, Fr. Bacon." 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 4I 
 
 "My singular good Lord " no longer heads Bacon's 
 letter; no unqualified pledge of friendship is tendered; 
 no. more comprehending of fortunes is recognized ; no 
 first love is declared; but the old friendship is subor- 
 dinated now to Queen's service, quiet and contentment, 
 to country's and an unenumerated "the like." A "few 
 persons" have taken precedence of Essex; "good 
 offices" are tendered with "a reservation;" and the 
 fallen friend compared to the classic fool who flew with 
 waxen wings. Bacon, in his "Apology," calls the Earl's 
 reply " a courteous and loving acceptation of my good 
 will and endeavors." 
 
 It is the answer of a generous and magnanimous 
 mind. And yet, there are parts which seem to be 
 inspired by prudent reflection upon the change in their 
 relations to the Queen, upon the power possessed by 
 Bacon to hurt or help, while here and there is a delicate 
 touch of irony : — 
 
 " Mr. Bacon, — I can neither expound nor censure your 
 late actions, being ignorant of all of them save one; and 
 having directed ray sight inward only, to examine myself. 
 You do pray me to believe that you only aspire to the 
 conscience and commendation 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 contem- 
 plative), yet we shall both convenire in eodem tertio; and 
 convenire inter nosipsos. 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 humor or my own election. I am a stranger to 
 all poetical conceits, ar else should say something of your 
 poetical example. But this I must say, that I never flew 
 with other wings than desire to merit, and confidence in, my 
 
42 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 sovereign's favor; and, when one of these wings failed me, I 
 would light no where but at my sovereign's feet though she 
 suffered me to be bruised with the fall. And till Her Majesty 
 that knows that I was never bird of prey, finds it to agree 
 with her will and her service that my wings shall be *imped 
 again, I have committed myself to the mire. No power 
 but my God's and ray sovereign's can alter this resolution 
 of Your retired friend, Essex.' 
 
 Bacon claims, in his "Apology," that he used the 
 frequent opportunities which he enjoyed of access to 
 the Queen's presence to bring about reconciliation, and 
 that lie conceived and executed the- following scheme: 
 He wrote a diplomatic letter to Essex, which Anthony 
 Bacon fathered and forwarded, and a diplomatic an- 
 swer, which Essex signed and sent. There is ground 
 in this correspondence to infer that the honest spirit of 
 it was inspired by Anthony Bacon. 
 
 This correspondence is very curious, and some ex- 
 tracts may both entertain and enlighten the reader, if 
 it be borne in mind that Bacon is the writer. He 
 makes Iiis brother Anthony say : — 
 
 "But to be plain with your Lordship, my fear rather is 
 because I hear how some of your good and wise friends, not 
 unpractised in the court, and supposing them not to be un- 
 seen in the deep and unscrutable centre of the court, which 
 is Her Majesty's mind, do not only toll the bell, but even 
 ring out peals, as if your fortune were dead and buried, and 
 as if there were no possibility of recovering Her Majesty's 
 favor; and as if the best of your condition were to live a 
 private and retired life, out of want, out of peril and out of 
 manifest disgrace." 
 
 * A term in hawking. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 43 
 
 He then advises Essex against despair, praises the 
 kind and faithful nature of the Queen : — 
 
 " Her Majesty, in her royal intention, never purposed to 
 call your doings into public question, but only to have used 
 a cloud without a shower, and censuring them by some 
 restraint of liberty, and debarring from her presence. For 
 both, the handhng the cause in the Star-chamber was enforced 
 by the violence of libelling and rumors, wherein the Queen 
 thought to have satisfied the world, and yet spared your 
 appearance. And then, after, when that' means which was 
 intended for the quenching of malicious bruits, turned to 
 kindle them, because it was said your Lordship was con- 
 demned unheard, and your Loidship's sister wrote that 
 private letter, then Her Majesty saw plainly that these winds 
 of rumors could not be commanded down without a hand- 
 ling of the cause, by making you party and admitting your 
 defense. And to this purpose, I do assure your lordship, 
 that my brother, Francis Bacon, who is too wise to be 
 abused, though he both reserved in all particulars more than 
 is needful, yet, in generality, he hath ever constantly, and 
 with asseveration, afl5rmed to me that both those days, — that 
 at the Star-chamber and that ac the Lord Keeper's, — were, of 
 the Queen, wholly upon necessity and point of honor, 
 against her inclination." 
 
 In the next paragraph personal to Bacon in this letter 
 which he dictated, Anthony says: "And were it not 
 that I desire and hope to see my brother established by 
 Her Majesty's favor, as I think him well worthy for 
 which he hath done and suffered, it were time,'' etc. 
 
 We have, in this letter, Bacon asserting that the 
 Earl's enemies at court were rejoicing over his banish- 
 ment from the Queen's presence, Bacon asserting that 
 he himself is " too wise to be abused ; " and that, when 
 he says that the Queen consented to any proceedings 
 
44 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 against Essex because she was " won to it, against her 
 inclination," lie tells the truth of his own knowledge. 
 
 The answer of the Earl, which also was dictated by 
 Bacon, says: — 
 
 "I believe most steadfastly Her Majesty never intended 
 to bring my cause to a public censure; and I believe as 
 verily, that, since the sentence, she meant to restore me to 
 tend upon her person ; but those which could use occasions 
 (which it was not in me to let), and amplify and practice 
 occasions to represent to Her Majesty a necessity to bring 
 me to the one, can and will do the like to stop me from the 
 other. You say, my errors were my prejudice, and therefore 
 I can mend myself. It is true ; but they that know that I 
 can mend myself, and that if I ever recover the Queen that 
 I will never lose her again, will never suffer me to obtain 
 interest in her favor . . . Sure I am the false glass of 
 others' informations, must alter her when I want access to 
 
 plead mine own cause Thanks be to God 
 
 that they which can make Her Majesty believe I counterfeit 
 with her, cannot make God believe that I counterfeit with 
 
 him For your brother, I hold him an 
 
 honest gentleman, and wish hitn all good, much rather for 
 your sake. Yourself, I know, hath suffered more for me, 
 and with me, than any friend that I have." 
 
 It will be seen that Bacon puts in the Earl's mouth 
 the assertion that enemies at court prevent him from 
 gaining access to the Queen, which, if accomplished, 
 would restore him to favor that would never be lost ; 
 and in a counterfeit letter makes the Earl protest to 
 God he does not counterfeit with the Queen. And as 
 the correspondence was cunningly devised for the 
 Queen's eyes, it introduces a saving clause to remove 
 any impression on her mind that Bacon was the Earl's 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 4$ 
 
 closest friend, who had suffered more than any other 
 for his sake, since Elizabeth suspected, or pretended to 
 suspect, at that time, every friend of the Earl to be an 
 enemy of the Queen. 
 
 Yet for this correspondence Bacon takes great credit 
 unto himself in his "Apology." There is no evidence, 
 except in this "Apology," that Bacon employed himself 
 in the interest of the Earl any further. Essex enjoyed 
 liberty and everything else save employment at court 
 and access to the Queen's presence. The impatient 
 disposition of a young and impulsive nature fretted 
 itself, and vibrated between prayers and curses. He 
 made the renewal of a valuable patent the final test of 
 the Queen's disposition towards him. She refused the 
 late favorite's petition with the ungracious reply : " No ; 
 an unruly beast must be stinted of his provender." 
 While the price of her favor seems to have been sub- 
 mission, the reward of submission appears to have been 
 insult. If history furnishes a parallel to Elizabeth for 
 badness and quickness of temper, strength and obsti- 
 nacy of will, the annals of America supply it. Andrew 
 Jackson in petticoats was Elizabeth. Elizabeth in 
 trousers was Andrew Jackson. 
 
 Essex, thus exiled from court by the Queen's pride 
 and his own sulkiness, excited the sympathy of a little 
 coterie of disinterested friends, who clung to him in ad- 
 versity as well as prosperity. About this nucleus gath- 
 ered discontented and dangerous men. They fed the 
 Earl's anger, and indulged in magnifying the acts and 
 antagonism of his enemies at court, who, as Bacon's 
 letters show, were really the barrier between him and 
 restoration to favor and employment. 
 
 The conclusion reached at the Earl's Twickenham 
 
46 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 villa was that pleasant relationship between him and 
 the Queen could be restored if he would obtain an 
 audience by force, and make love or peace at leisure. 
 This seems to be the substance of the most foolish plan 
 ever conceived or ever attempted to be executed by 
 men of brains and bravery. 
 
 One fine Sunday morning the Earl advanced through 
 the city, followed by two or three hundred adherents. 
 He and they endeavored to raise the populace with 
 drawn sword, and the cry that the life of Essex was in 
 danger. Everything in London wore a peaceful aspect 
 save this cavalcade, and no one apparently knew the 
 object of the strange procession save those engaged 
 in it. 
 
 Not a citizen joined the mob of gentlemen. The 
 Queen's forces met them, drove them back, followed 
 them to Twickenham, surrounded the villa of the mis- 
 guided young man, planted cannon upon a neighboring 
 church tower, and demanded an unconditional sur- 
 render. The Lord Keeper and three other lords, who 
 had been sent to investigate this assembling of discon- 
 tented spirits, were released from the imprisonment to 
 which they had been subjected, and in a few hours the 
 favorite was in the Tower of London. His imprison- 
 ment was shared by the Earl of Southampton, dear to 
 every English and American heart as the patron of 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Elizabeth's heart was hurt and temper aroused by 
 the appearance of her young favorite in the role of 
 conspirator, and she became suspicious of every cour- 
 tier who had ever been on friendly terms with Essex. 
 On February the 8th, 1601, the Earl was taken and 
 imprisoned. On the nth of the same month, Bacon, 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 47 
 
 along with the other Learned Counsel, entered upon 
 the investigation of the conspiracy. On the i8th some 
 of the followers of Essex confessed. On the 19th the 
 Earl and Southampton were arraigned on the charge 
 of treason. Coke and Bacon appeared as prosecutors. 
 Coke opened in his characteristic and vigorous style, 
 swelling -with rhetorical violence, charging the Earl 
 with the worst species of treason. Essex was per- 
 mitted to interrupt him with protests of innocence, 
 asseverating that the only object he had in view was 
 security against his enemies and access to the Queen's 
 presence. The Earl's interjections and interruptions 
 prevented all regularity of proceedings. Coke wan- 
 dered from the gist of the case, to the great advantage 
 of the accused, when Bacon interposed and said: — 
 
 " In speaking of this late and horrible rebellion which 
 hath been in the eyes and ears of all men, I shall save 
 myself much labor in opening and enforcing the points 
 thereof, insomuch that I speak not before a country jury of 
 ignorant men, but before a most honorable assembly of the 
 greatest Peers of the land, whose wisdom conceives far 
 more than my tongue can utter ; yet with your gracious and 
 honorable favors I will presume, if not for information of 
 your honors, yet for the discharge of my duty, to say thus 
 much. 
 
 No man can be ignorant that knows matters of former 
 ages, and all history makes it plain, that there was never 
 any traitor heard of that durst directly attempt the seat of 
 his liege prince, but he always colored his practices with 
 some plausible pretense. For God hath imprinted such a 
 majesty in the face of a prince, that no private man dare 
 approach the person of his sovereign with a traitorous 
 intent. And, therefore, they run another side course, oblique 
 et a latere; some to reform corruptions of state and religion; 
 
48 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 some to reduce the ancient liberties and customs pretended 
 to be lost and worn out; some to remove those persons 
 that, being in high places, make themselves subject to envy; 
 but all of them aim at the overthrow of the state and de- 
 struction of the present rulers. And this, likewise, is the 
 use of those that work mischief of another quality : as Cain, 
 that first murderer, took up an excuse for his fact, shaming 
 to outface it with impudency. Thus the Earl made his color 
 the severing some great men and councillors from Her 
 Majesty's favor, and the fear he stood of his pretended 
 enemies lest they should murder him in his house. There- 
 fore he saith he was compelled to fly into the City for succor 
 and assistance ; not much unlike Pisistratus, of whom it was 
 so anciently written how he gashed and wounded himself, 
 and in that sort ran crying into Athens that his life was 
 sought and like to have been taken away ; thinking to have 
 moved the people to have pitied him, and taken his part, by 
 such counterfeited harm and danger. Whereas, his aim and 
 drift was to take the government of the City into his hands 
 and alter the form thereof. With like pretenses of danger 
 and assaults, the Earl of Essex entered the City of London 
 and passed through the bowels thereof, blanching rumors 
 that he should have been murdered and that the state was 
 sold ; whereas, he had no such enemies, no such dangers ; 
 persuading themselves that if they could prevail, all would 
 have done well. But now magna scelera terminantur in 
 hxresia; for you, my Lord, should know that though 
 princes give their subjects cause of discontent, though they 
 take away the honors they have heaped upon them, though 
 they bring them to a lower estate than they raised them 
 from, yet ought they not to be so forgetful of their allegiance 
 that they should enter into any undutiful act, much less upon 
 rebellion, as you, my Lord, have done. All whatsoever you 
 have, and can say in answer hereof, are but shadows. And, 
 therefore, methinks it were best for you to confess, not to 
 justify." 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 49 
 
 This was certainly an ingenious speech. The skillful 
 flattery of the introduction must have propitiated the 
 triers. The example of Pisistratus was a powerful 
 picture, but not a parallel. And as far as the remarks 
 go, they were calculated to interfere with the favorable 
 impressions which the excuses and explanations of 
 Essex may have made upon his judges. The Earl 
 appreciated this, and immediately endeavored to 
 qualify their effect by saying: — 
 
 " To answer Mr. Bacon's speech at once, I say thus 
 much ; and call forth Mr. Bacon against Mr. Bacon. You 
 are then to know that Mr. Francis Bacon hath written two 
 letters, the one of which hath been artificially framed in my 
 name, after he had framed the other in Mr. Anthony Bacon's 
 name to provoke me. In the latter of these two he lays 
 down the grounds of my discontentment, and the reasons I 
 pretend against my enemies, pleading as orderly for me as 
 
 I could do myself If those reasons were then 
 
 just and true, not counterfeit, how can it be that now my 
 pretenses are false and injurious ? For then Mr. Bacon 
 joined with me in mine opinion, and pointed out those to be 
 mine enemies, and to hold me in disgrace with Her Majesty, 
 whom he seems now to clear of such mind towards me ; 
 and, therefore, I leave the truth of what I say, and he 
 opposeth, unto your Lordships' indifferent considerations." 
 
 Bacon, in his letter to the Earl, when acting during 
 Cecil's absence in France, and in the two letters above 
 referred to, not only acknowledged that the Earl had 
 dangerous enemies at court, but aggravated the Earl's 
 fears and suspicion of them. He must have recognized 
 the inconsistency, and for want of a better explanation 
 he replied : — 
 
 " Those letters, if they were there, would not blush to 
 be seen for anything contained in them ; and that he had 
 
50 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 spent more time in vain in studying liow to make tlie Earl a 
 good servant to the Queen and state, than he had done in 
 anything else." 
 
 The letters, however, were not produced or offered 
 to be produced, although they were in Bacon's posses- 
 sion. The evidence was proceeded with, but the zeal- 
 ous Coke got into another controversy with the accused 
 on matters foreign to the issue, the tendency of which 
 was beneficial to the Earl. Bacon, seeing this, inter- 
 rupted his senior and leader to say: — 
 
 " I have never yet seen in any case such favor shown to 
 any prisoners so many digressions, such delivering of 
 evidence by fractions, and so silly a defense of such great 
 and notorious treasons. May it please your Grace, you 
 have seen how weakly he hath shadowed his purpose and 
 how slenderly he hath answered the objections against him. 
 But, my Lord, I doubt the variety of matters and the many 
 digressions may minister occasion of forgetfulness, and may 
 
 have swerved the judgments of the Lords 
 
 Now, put the case that the Earl of Essex's intents were, as 
 he would have it believed, to go only as a suppliant to Her 
 Majesty. Shall their petitions be presented by armed peti- 
 tioners? This must needs bring loss of liberty to the 
 Prince. Neither is it any point of law, as my Lord South- 
 ampton would have it believed, that condemns them of 
 treason. To take secret counsel, to execute it, to run 
 together in numbers armed with weapons, what can be the 
 excuse ? Warned by the Lord Keeper, by a herald, and yet 
 persist! Will any simple man take this to be less than 
 treason ? " 
 
 The Earl answered by referring to the smallness of 
 his following as inconsistent with the probability of a 
 treasonable intent. Bacon replied: — 
 
HIS LIFE AXD CHARACTER. 5 1 
 
 " It is not the company you carried with you, but the 
 assistance you hoped for in the City whicli you trusted unto. 
 The Dulce of Guise thrust himself into the streets of Paris 
 on the day of the Barricades in his doublet and hose, attend- 
 ed only with eight gentlemen, and found that help in the 
 City which (thanks be to God!) you failed of here. And 
 what followed ? The King was forced to put himself into a 
 pilgrim's weeds, and in that disguise to steal away to escape 
 their fury. Even such was my Lord's confidence, too, and 
 his pretense the same, and all-hail and a kiss to the City. 
 But the end was treason, as hath been sufficiently proved. 
 But when he had once delivered and engaged himself so far 
 into that which the shallowness of his conceit could not 
 accomplish as he expected, the Queen for her defense taking 
 arms against him, he was glad to yield himself ; and thinking 
 to color his practices, turned his pretexts, and alleged the 
 occasion thereof to proceed from a private quarrel." 
 
 Both Essex and Southampton were convicted and 
 sentenced, but the former went to the block alone. 
 
 In discussing the conduct of Bacon at the trial of 
 Essex, a defense of the Earl is not necessary to the 
 condemnation of Bacon. Let the Earl's guilt be ad- 
 mitted ; yet if there is anything in the tie of friendship 
 or the obligation of gratitude, the post of prosecutor 
 was the one which Bacon, of all men, should not have 
 occupied. He was not of the sworn Learned Counsel, 
 therefore came as a volunteer, not under the sacred 
 obligation of an official oath. 
 
 From the moment Essex took the friendless place- 
 hunter under his protection we have seen how disin- 
 terested were the Earl's actions, speeches and letters, 
 how warm the protestations, pledges and acknowledg- 
 ments of Bacon. But what a contrast is here offered 
 between the Earl risking his favor with the Queen in 
 
52 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 order to get Bacon a pitiful place, and Bacon, prose- 
 cuting his patron to the death, lest the Queen should 
 suspect him of a merciful sentiment for a misguided, 
 ill-advised, impulsive young man! 
 
 How false is the unreserved confession, "I am 
 more yours than any man's, more yours than any man,'' 
 when compared with the sneers, the attacks, the dis- 
 ingenuous allusions, the cold and heartless efforts to 
 draw the vindictive Coke into the path that led to 
 conviction, to smother the sparks of mercy which the 
 youth and earnest eloquence of Essex kindled in the 
 breasts of his judges ! 
 
 Who, unless blinded by the brilliant intellectual 
 qualities of the man, can excuse or justify Bacon for 
 thus confronting him who had labored in his interests, 
 sympathized with his disappointments, soothed his 
 sorrows, relieved his necessities, nursed his hopes? 
 And having so confronted him, he prosecuted his 
 young patron with a sworn prosecutor's vigor, a cour- 
 tier's ardor, a barrister's coolness, and with the bitter- 
 ness of an ingrate conscious of returning evil for 
 good. 
 
 History, it is true, does not abound in exhibitions of 
 disinterested friendship at courts and in palaces; but 
 to the credit of the human race there can generally be 
 found a set-olf to treachery as base as Bacon's ; and 
 the reign of the Queen's father exhibits a refreshing 
 contrast when it pictures Thomas Cromwell, a black- 
 smith's son, a soldier of fortune, sharing the Cardinal's 
 banishment, influencing che imperious Henry to spare 
 his patron's life, and resisting and defeating the bill in 
 Parliament for disqualifying Wolsey from all employ- 
 ment under the crown: 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 53 
 
 ''For his honest behavior in his master's cause he was 
 esteemed the most faithfuUest servant, and was of all men 
 greatly commended." 
 
 The execution of Essex occasioned murraurings 
 among the people. These expressions of discontent 
 must have been directed against the principal actors at 
 the trial, and against the government. Bacon must 
 have had his share of unpopularity. The Queen 
 deemed it advisable to allay public discontent by pub- 
 lishing a " Declaration of the Practices and Treasons 
 Attempted and Committed by Robert, late Earl of 
 Essex, and his Complices." Bacon was selected to 
 draft this paper, and accepted the oiBce of pursuing his 
 patron in the grave, of demonstrating to the English 
 people, if possible, the inexcusable, unpardonable guilt 
 of his late friend, the Earl, and the justification of his 
 new friend, the Queen. 
 
 Yet, in his "Apology" to the English people, when 
 Elizabeth was gone, and the name of Essex again heard 
 in connection with words of praise, of sorrow, of anger, 
 Bacon says: — 
 
 " For the time which passed, I mean between the arraign- 
 ment and my Lord's suffering, I was but once with the 
 Queen, at what time, though, I durst not deal directly for 
 my Lord as things then stood ; yet generally I did commend 
 Her Majesty's mercy, terming it to her as an excellent balm 
 that did continually distil from her excellent hands, and 
 made an excellent odor in the senses of the people." 
 
 If Bacon thought that Essex's conduct was worthy of 
 mercy at the Queen's hands, between the prison and 
 the block, how much worthier was it of mercy at a 
 friend's, between the charge and the sentence ! 
 
54 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 Let us endeavor to analj'ze his conduct in the light 
 of his characteristics, and of his career from his early 
 entrance into the arena. 
 
 The weakness of Bacon's nature, as a man in the 
 battle of life, was want of self-reliance, a constant 
 dependence upon and looking towards others, a willing- 
 ness to become the instrument of smaller men, whose 
 abilities were more practical or whose lots were more 
 fortunate. He was constantly looking about him for 
 some one to tie to, as a patron, and his letters convey 
 pledges, which, if made to be kept, would destroy indi- 
 viduality of opinion and action. After seeking the 
 patronage of the Cecils, and failing, he turned to Essex 
 and succeeded. With gratitude for past and hope of 
 future favors, he tells the Earl, "I am more yours than 
 any man's," etc. When in pursuit of the Solicitor- 
 Generalship, and asking the aid of Lord Keeper Puck- 
 ering, he says: — 
 
 " My affection inclineth me to be much (your) Lordship's, 
 and my course and way, in all reason and policy for myself, 
 leadeth me to the same dependence ; hereunto if there shall 
 be joined your Lordship's obligation in dealing strongly for 
 
 me as you have begun, no man can be more yours 
 
 / hope you will think T am no u?tlikely piece of wood to 
 shape you a true servant of." 
 
 And after a quarrel with Coke, to whom he addressed 
 a letter of expostulation, we find him hinting how much 
 he might have been that man's, his life-long enemy's, 
 who bullied him and thwarted him at every step, when- 
 ever an occasion offered. " If you had not been short- 
 sighted in your own fortune (as I think), you might 
 have had more use of me." 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 55 
 
 This quarrel between Bacon and Coke occurred in 
 the Exchequer, and the latter was, as usual, the assail- 
 ant, and his language and conduct were as coarse as 
 customary. He sneered at Bacon for being an unsworn 
 Counsel of the Queen, and alluded to the affair of the 
 spunging-house. Bacon set down all that either of 
 them said. And now that Essex was gone, having 
 apparently turned to Secretary Cecil as the most avail- 
 able patron, he furnished Sir Robert with a transcript, 
 in order to anticipate at headquarters the report of his 
 enemy or of the court gossips. The letter to his cousin, 
 written from Gray's Inn, April 29th, 1601, contains a 
 statement of their relations, strikingly at variance with 
 the truth: — 
 
 " I am bold now to possess your Honor, as one that ever 
 I found careful of my advancement, and yet more jealous of 
 my wrongs." 
 
 Seven years had elapsed since Anthony Bacon trans- 
 mitted to Lady Bacon this picture of Sir Robert's care 
 and jealousy for Francis : — 
 
 "'If your Lordship had spoken of the Solicitorship,' said 
 Sir Robert to the Earl of Essex, 'that might be of easier 
 digestion to the Queen.' ' Digest me no digesting,' said the 
 Earl; 'for the Attorneyship is tliat I must have for Francis 
 Bacon ; and in that I will spend my uttermost credit, friend- 
 ship and authority. . . . And for your own part. Sir 
 Robert, I do think much and strange both of my Lord, your 
 father, and you, that can have the mind to seek the prefer- 
 ment of a stranger before so near a kinsman ; namely, con- 
 sidering if you weigh in a balance his parts and sufficiency 
 in any respect with those of his competitor, excepting only 
 four poor years of admittance, which Francis Bacon hath 
 
56 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 more than recompensed with the priority of his reaaing, in 
 all other respects you shall find no comparison between 
 them.'" 
 
 With this certain knowledge of his cousin's antago- 
 nism from the lips of Essex, with the equally certain 
 knowledge derived from a long and fruitless chase after 
 preferment which the Cecils could have secured for 
 him, with his own conclusion, expressed afterwards to 
 Villiers, heretofore quoted, complaining of the Cecils, 
 father and son, for repressing men of merit, this para- 
 graph becomes one of the many witnesses furnished by 
 Bacon that testify to his disingenuousness and to his 
 sacrifices of personal honor and resentment upon the 
 shrine of ofificial patronage. 
 
 This year, 1601, must have been a troubled one. 
 His peace of mind was further clouded by the death of 
 Anthony Bacon, who seems to have been an exception- 
 ally devoted brother. He died, as Francis lived, in 
 debt ; and it is probable that the latter received com- 
 paratively little from the estate, after the demands of 
 creditors had been satisfied, and the bills of doctors 
 and undertaker paid. 
 
 But his services against Essex were not altogether 
 unremunerated. Heavy fines had been imposed on 
 many of the Earl's co-conspirators, and of this money, 
 ^1,200 were assigned to Bacon by the Queen's order. 
 
 Elizabeth now met, for the last time, her people in 
 parliament. A fresh invasion of her realm, the landing 
 of a Spanish army in Ireland, occasioned the demand 
 of money, and inspired a patriotic response. 
 
 Bacon appeared in the House of Commons in the 
 graceful role of a law-reformer, and presented a bill for 
 the regulation of weights and measures, — a wise and 
 
HIS LIFK AND CHARACTER. 57 
 
 beneficent proposition, which met with no encourage- 
 ment, and was postponed for a future generation of 
 legislators to enact as a blessing to their country; for 
 it did not receive the attention it deserved until William 
 IV. was on the throne. 
 
 A most generous supply was granted the Queen, 
 greater than was ever before proposed. A motion was 
 made to exempt the poorer classes, "the three-pound 
 men;" but Bacon opposed any exemption. He had 
 grown wiser, or less sympathetic, than when he antag- 
 onized a smaller imposition: because of its "impos- 
 sibility, the poor men's rent is such as they are not able 
 to yield it." Now, this was his language: "It- was 
 dulcis tractus pari j'ugo, and therefore the poor as well 
 as the rich not to be exempted." 
 
 The Queen could not find fault with this speech, as 
 she did with the former, and although it subjected 
 Bacon to the sarcasms of Sir Walter Raleigh, who 
 revived and quoted his early speech about the tax- 
 payer selling his "pots" and "pans," it insured him 
 against the frowns of Elizabeth. 
 
 The question of monopolies, or grants by the Queen 
 of exclusive rights to certain individuals or companies, 
 to deal in certain commodities, was raised in this par- 
 liament, and threatened to bring the Commons and 
 Crown in collision. That this royal custom of parcel- 
 ing out the privileges of supplying the necessities of 
 whole peoples, at prices which unrivaled patentees and 
 grantees chose to demand, was not only a wrong, but a 
 much-abused wrong, every member of both Houses 
 knew ; and when a bill was proposed to stamp it, both 
 as opposed to law and as a cruel grievance, Bacon stood 
 up as the Queen's advocate, defended the custom as a 
 
58 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 part of her prerogative, and maintained that if her 
 grantees and patentees abused her favors, she should 
 be appealed to by the House, in the form of a 
 petition: — 
 
 " The use hath been ever by petition," he said, " to humble 
 ourselves to Her Majesty, and by petition to desire to have 
 our grievances redressed; especially when the remedy 
 
 toucheth her so nigh in point of prerogative I 
 
 say, and I say again, that we ought not to deal, or judge, or 
 meddle with Her Majesty's prerogative." 
 
 The prerogative which Bacon defended was born of 
 the times when English liberty lay smothered in the 
 ashes of the War of the Roses. 
 
 "With the closing years of his [Edward IV.] reign," says 
 a recent popular and philosophical writer, "the monarchy 
 took a new color. The introduction of an elaborate spy 
 system, the use of the rack and the practice of interference 
 with the purity of justice, gave the first signs of an arbitrary 
 rule which the Tudors were to develop. It was on his cre- 
 ation of a new financial system that the King laid the foun- 
 dation of a despotic rule Sums were extorted 
 
 from the clergy; monopolies were sold.^''* 
 
 It will be seen, not only from this instance, but from 
 others which will appear as the scroll of Bacon's life is 
 unrolled, that as a law-zeformer he did not deal with 
 the great questions which involved collision between 
 crown and people, out of which sprang some new 
 principle of freedom, or which emitted sparks that 
 kindled after-glows upon the altar of constitutional 
 
 * Green's Hist. Eng. Peep., Vol. II., p. 51. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 59 
 
 liberty. Unlike the martyr upon this shrine in the 
 reign of Henry VIII., Sir Thomas More, 
 
 " He ne'er with patriot fires had warmed his youth, 
 Or staked existence on a single truth." 
 
 And if the reader finds his moral instincts blunted for 
 the instant by the brilliancy of Bacon's intellect, he can 
 take no surer guide to lead him back to paths of coura- 
 geous honesty than the man whose life, as well as pen, 
 set example for future ages : — 
 
 "There will never be wanting some pretense for deciding 
 in the King's favor," wrote More, "as, that equity is on his 
 side, or the strict letter of the law, or some forced interpre- 
 tation of it; or, if none of these, that the royal prerogative 
 ought, with conscientious judges, to outweigh all other 
 considerations.'' 
 
 The committees who were to give, in some form, an 
 expression to the grievance of the people, delayed 
 reporting to the Commons, and the Queen, anticipating 
 their action and wish, announced that she had given 
 orders to have some of the abuses reformed, others 
 were to be revoked, and all were to be suspended for 
 examination and report. 
 
 An enthusiastic, grateful and loyal Commons then 
 greeted their great Queen for the last time. 
 
 Bacon's services in this parliament, upon the heel of 
 his services at the trial of Essex, supplementing, also, 
 the devotion of his pen to the Queen, deserved some 
 special recognition for their earnestness alone, even if 
 they had not been valuable, which, however, they must 
 have been. Yet he continued on his unrewarded 
 course, volunteering elaborately-written advice to his 
 
6o FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 cousin, Sir Robert Cecil, now chief adviser of the 
 Queen and anxious candidate for the same place under 
 him who was to be her successor. 
 
 Elizabeth was old, and her strength began to yield 
 to time and the anxieties which were incident to a reign 
 unparalleled in so many respects. It only needed some 
 acute illness to irritate her bad temper and excite her 
 stubborn will. She had survived the great men who 
 surrounded her throne at her accession. When Burgh- 
 ley yielded to age and disease, she lost the service of 
 one of the wisest and most conservative statesmen that 
 had ever stood by a monarch's side. His son was his 
 successor, but could not be his substitute. He was 
 impregnated by education with his father's ideas and 
 policy, and endeavored to walk in the same path; but, 
 in the forcible words of Bacon, "As, in Egypt, the seven 
 good years sustained the seven bad, so governments, 
 for a time well grounded, do bear out errors follow- 
 ing." * The policy of Burghley ran through the entire 
 reign of Elizabeth, and overlapping into the early part 
 of that of James, sustained for a time the station of 
 England among her contemporaries. 
 
 Elizabeth, declining all medical aid, grew worse day 
 by day, and yielding to a settled melancholy, faded 
 rapidly away. In three weeks from her attack she 
 reached the border, and on the 24th day of March, 
 1603, crossed over to join the spirits of her beautiful 
 young rival and handsome young favorite, whose death- 
 warrant she had signed. 
 
 At the time of the Queen's death Bacon was fifty- 
 three years of age. As he stood by her bier he must 
 
 * Advancement of Learning. VoJ. II., 257. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 6 1 
 
 have reflected how long and anxiously be had sought 
 her favor and smile, what sacrifices he had made in 
 vain, what slight recognitions she had given of his 
 ability and ardor! And yet her death came when he 
 was highest in her good graces; a little time might 
 have crowned his long waiting. Now that she was 
 gone, and he was brought face to face with the waste 
 of precious moments, the opportunity was offered for 
 retirement from a stage which held out no encourage- 
 ments to the society of that divine philosophy which 
 never ceased to be his first love, although he had so 
 often turned his back upon her and closed his ears to 
 her voice. But the breath was hardly out of the body 
 of Bacon's "most gracious mistress" before he sent a 
 skirmish line of propitiatory letters to meet his most 
 gracious master, who, with a Scotch mob at his heels, 
 was heading for the throne of England 
 
PART II. 
 
 FROM ACCESSION OF JAMES I. TO PUBLICATION OF 
 "novum ORGANUM," OCTOBER lO, 1620. 
 
 Elizabeth, throughout her reign, would never permit 
 the question of succession to be mentioned or discussed. 
 A dying nod in the direction of Scotland was her only 
 confirmation of the divine right of James. 
 
 " A mouse that trusts to one poor hole 
 Can never be a mouse of any soul." 
 
 So thought the statesmen and courtiers, great and 
 little, who advised, obeyed and flattered the great 
 Queen and vain woman. 
 
 Sir Robert Cecil, the Earl of Northumberland, and 
 others, had, for years previous to the Queen's death, 
 been in secret correspondence with James. 
 
 Anthony Bacon, who, as an amateur, was dabbling 
 in all politics, had, in connection with the Earl of 
 Essex, also established a correspondence with certain 
 persons around King James. Francis Bacon, who was 
 cognizant of this, now proposed to utilize whatever 
 capital his brother had accumulated under Essex. On 
 this capital of his dead brother and dead patron he 
 now traded. To one of his brother's correspondents 
 
64 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 he inclosed a letter to the King himself, in which he 
 pays this tribute to the memory of Elizabeth: "A prin- 
 cess happy in many things, but most happy in her suc- 
 cessor." Yet he must have known James to have been 
 a pedant, a coward and a trifler; a man whose defects 
 and deficiencies were aggravated by contrast with the 
 woman who had preceded him. Bacon next proceeds 
 to invite the King's kindly glances to himself: — 
 
 " And yet further and more nearly, I was not a little en- 
 couraged, not only upon a supposal that unto Your Majesty's 
 sacred ears (open to the air of all virtues), there might per- 
 haps have come some small breath of the good memory of my 
 father, so long a principal counsellor in this your kingdom; 
 but also by the particular knowledge of the infinite devotion 
 and incessant endeavors (beyond the strength of his body 
 and the nature of the times) which appeared in my good 
 brother towards Your Majesty's service; and were, on Your 
 Majesty's part, through your singular benignity, by many 
 most gracious and lively significations and favors, accepted 
 and acknowledged, beyond the merit of anything he could 
 effect. All which endeavors and dtities were for the most 
 part common to myself with him, though by design [as be- 
 tween brethren) dissembled. 
 
 "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 is noted to have a mighty hand in bridling floods 
 and fluctuations of the seas and of people's hearts, hath by 
 the miraculous and universal consent (the more strange be- 
 cause it proceedetli from such diversity of causes), in your 
 coming in, given a sign and token what he intendeth in the 
 continuance. I think there is no subject of Your Majesty's 
 who loveth this island and is not hollow and unworthy, 
 whose heart is not set on fire, not only to bring you peace- 
 offerings to make you propitious, but to sacrifice himself a 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 65 
 
 burnt-offering to Your Majesty's service; amongst wliicli 
 number no man's fire shall be more pure and fervent than 
 mine. But how far forth it shall blaze out, that resteth in 
 Your Majesty s employment." 
 
 Bacon's next step was to address the Earl of North- 
 umberland, who was thought to stand highest with 
 tlie King, a letter inclosing the draft of a proclamation 
 to be issued by the King, upon his entrance. It is an 
 able state paper because of its fitness for the times and 
 probable acceptability to the people of England, to 
 whom the praise of Elizabeth which it contained would 
 have been especially grateful. Whether Bacon really 
 expected that the King, surrounded by old and new 
 friends greedy for favor, recognition and employment, 
 would accept the advice and service of a private man 
 in so important a matter, is unknown; but the offer 
 would evidence his zeal, and the writing evidence his 
 capacity. 
 
 King James, before his arrival at London, and his 
 coronation, directed that all persons in office when the 
 Queen died should continue until he should determine 
 otherwise. Bacon, by this order, was deprived of the 
 shadow which he had accepted in lieu of the substance, 
 for he never was, in law, the Queen's counsel, never 
 having been sworn or received his warrant as such. 
 But he was not idle in preparing himself as a candidate 
 for royal favor. The Queen's death was the signal for 
 the revival of the hopes and prospects of the friends of 
 the Earl of Essex. The release of the Earl of South- 
 ampton was a foregone conclusion; and he wrote to 
 this nobleman, who had identified himself with Essex, 
 been triedr and condemned with Essex, whom Bacon 
 had prosecuted together with Essex. 
 
66 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 " Neither is it any point of law," said Bacon, at the trial, 
 "as my Lord of Southampton would have it believed, that 
 condemns them of treason. To take secret counsel, to exe- 
 cute it, to run together in numbers armed with weapons, — 
 what can be the excuse? Warned by the Lord Keeper, by 
 a herald, and yet persist! Will any simple man take this to 
 be less than treason?" 
 
 The friends of Southampton were visiting him in the 
 Tower, and conveying their hearty congratulations upon 
 the freedom which he was soon to enjoy. Bacon sub- 
 stituted a letter for a call, in which he said: — 
 
 "I would have been 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 
 to you. And therefore, because I would commit no error, 
 I chose to write, assuring your Lordship (how credible 
 soever it may seem 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 now that which I was truly before." 
 
 The extract above given from Bacon's speech against 
 Southampton is an answer to this letter; and unless 
 we judge him by an entirely different standard than we 
 do other men, we cannot escape the conviction of insin- 
 cerity, either at the trial or in this letter. Southampton 
 was as guilty at one time as at another. 
 
 "And so, craving no other pardon," concludes Bacon'g 
 letter, "than for troubling you with this letter, I do not now 
 begin, but continue, to be your Lordship's humble and much 
 devoted." 
 
 Always your servant, although once your merciless 
 prosecutor 1 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 67 
 
 Bacon's pen was busy during these excited times. 
 Having been admitted to the King's presence, he gave 
 an immediate account of it to Northumberland. He 
 had "no private conference to any purpose. No more 
 hatli almost any other English." But he describes him 
 after a courtier's fashion. 
 
 Bacon, on the King's arrival, was continued an un- 
 sworn counsellor, which meant little or nothing. This 
 must have been a disappointment to him who had vol- 
 unteered to write royal proclamations. That he was 
 again in that depressed state which always inspired 
 him to persuade himself, or try to convince others, that 
 he had given over the pursuit of political place and 
 honors, is evident from a letter to Sir Robert Cecil, 
 dated July 3d, 1603. 
 
 One of the earliest acts of sovereignty on the part of 
 King James was the confirming of knighthood upon a 
 troop of three hundred gentlemen, who were marched 
 up like a drove of cattle to be branded, and were as- 
 sessed so many pounds for the honor conferred upon 
 them. 
 
 When there was anything to get. Bacon was on hand 
 to ask. Besides, his activity as Queen's counsel had 
 involved the neglect of his practice, and periodical 
 embarrassment was again disturbing him. A second 
 courtship proclaimed the narrowed condition of his 
 finances, all of which appears from the letter to his 
 cousin, Sir Robert, above referred to : — 
 
 "For my purpose and course,'' he writes, "I desire to 
 meddle as little as I can in the King's causes, His Majesty 
 now abounding in counsel, and to follow my private thrift 
 and practice, and to marry with some convenient advance- 
 ment. For, as for my ambition, I do assure your honor. 
 
68 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 mine is quenched. In the Queen's, my excellent mistress's, 
 time, the quorum was small ; her service was a kind of free- 
 hold, and it was a more solemn time. All tliese points 
 agreed with my nature and judgment. My ambition now I 
 shall only put upon my pen, whereby I shall be able to main- 
 tain memory and merit of the times succeeding. Lastly, for 
 this divulged and almost prostituted title of knighthood, I 
 could, without charge, by your Honor's mean, be content to 
 have it, both because of this late disgrace " [something he 
 had suffered, it is presumed, at the hands of a creditor], 
 "and because 1 have three new knights in my mess in Gray's 
 Inn's commons ; and because I have found out an alderman's 
 daughter, an handsome maiden to my liking." 
 
 Another letter to Sir Robert Cecil, touching money 
 matters, closes his correspondence of this period as far 
 as we are informed. In public affairs immediately 
 succeeding the accession of James, he took no part, 
 although his pen contributed a valuable paper to the 
 religious controversies which were revived with renewed 
 ardor by the accident of a new reign and a new sov- 
 ereign. "Certain Considerations Touching the Better 
 Pacification and Edification of the Church of England" 
 should be catalogued with his " Church Controversies," 
 as a philosophical contribution to a discussion which 
 commenced with Cain and Abel in the Garden of Eden, 
 and which will continue until theology yields to Christi- 
 anity, or an infallible church absorbs all races under its 
 government, or every individual rejects all intermedia- 
 ries between himself and a personal God. 
 
 Charles I., writing to Wentworth, then in Ireland, 
 concludes his letter by saying, " I will end with a rule 
 that may serve for a statesman, a courtier or a lover: 
 Never make a defense or apology before you be ac- 
 cused." This rule of action is one which most thoughtful 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 69 
 
 men observe, one which all innocent men instinctively 
 obey. But as Bacon, about this time, wrote his famous 
 " Apology in Certain Imputations Concerning the late 
 Earl of Essex," the inference is that he had been 
 accused of conduct inconsistent with the commonly- 
 accepted notions of right. The title of the "Apology," 
 and the introductory paragraph, prove that the tongues 
 which the death of Elizabeth had loosened revived the 
 tales which had been more quietly circulated to Bacon's 
 detriment. Instead of suffering an old story to be 
 buried beneath the accumulation of new events, he 
 wrote, published and circulated this history of his con- 
 nection with the prosecution of his friend and bene- 
 factor. It was addressed to the public through the 
 Earl of Devonshire. Two editions were printed and 
 distributed by Bacon, one in the year 1604, the other 
 in the year following. Yet Bacon proclaims his inde- 
 pendence of popular censure, and that his desire to 
 stand well with a few persons is what alone inspired 
 his "Apology." 
 
 •'It may please your good Lordship," he says, "I cannot 
 be ignorant, and ought to be sensible of the wrong which I 
 sustain in common speech, as if I had been false or un- 
 thankful to that noble but unfortunate Earl, the Earl of 
 Essex. And for satisfyiijg the vulgar sort, I do not so much 
 regard it; though I love a good name, but yet, as an hand- 
 maid and attendant of honesty and virtue. . . . But, on 
 the other side, there is no worldly thing that concerneth my- 
 self 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 the Lord of Essex, and therefore will not be par- 
 tial towards me, which is part of that I desire ; next, because 
 it has ever pleased you to show yourself to me an honorable 
 friend." 
 
70 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 Then follows statement of fact and argument. Like 
 most personal explanations to the public, it is probable 
 that this one was not altogether satisfactory. Yet little 
 or nothing is known of its effect, and the opinions of 
 writers differ in respect to it, as they differ in respect 
 to the original transaction which inspired it. 
 
 The most interesting incident of the beginning of the 
 new sovereign's reign was the trial of Sir Walter 
 Raleigh for participation in the Arabella Stuart fiasco, 
 whom the reader will recall as the most unfortunate 
 victim of the conspiracy to dethrone James and en- 
 throne one to whom the Tower of London became both 
 a prison and an insane asylum. 
 
 Sir Edward Coke and Bacon were the prosecutors of 
 this great Englishman, and fortunately for the unfavored 
 King's counsel, he was not called on or permitted to 
 take an active part in the disgraceful scene. But the 
 Attorney-General surpassed himself in zeal and bru- 
 tality. He assailed one of the brightest ornaments of 
 the age with the vile vocabulary of a Scroggs or Jef- 
 fries, and rendered himself immortally infamous by a 
 coarseness and cruelty unparalleled and never imitated. 
 
 Bacon's next appearance in public was as a member 
 of the House of Commons in James' first parliament, 
 which convened March 19th, 1604. The King's ad- 
 dress commended the consideration of the subject 
 nearest to his heart, — the union of the two kingdoms; 
 also the settlement of religious controversies, and the 
 amendment of the laws. 
 
 Bacon divided his attention between the King's pet 
 project and the popular cry for reform of laws, whose 
 improvement would insure redress of grievances. With 
 extraordinary industry, characteristic ability and great 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 7 1 
 
 tact, he labored to accomplish objects nearest to the 
 hearts of sovereign and people, and the close of the 
 session found him in the enjoyment of a prominence 
 and popularity which he had hitherto never reached. 
 Unbegged recognition of his worth and services, though 
 meagre in its quantity and quality, for the first time 
 cheered his hopes. He received from the King a war- 
 rant as one of the Learned Counsel, with a small sal- 
 ary, and was thus fortified against the sneers with which 
 Coke welcomed the "unsworn" servant of the crown. 
 To this was added a pension of ;£'6o, which did little 
 to relieve the embarrassed lawyer, but did much to 
 encourage the persistent place-hunter. Yet here the 
 new departure for a time was checked, and in such a 
 way, in all probability, as to dampen the hopeful 
 impression made on Bacon's mind. 
 
 The object of the writer has been to sketch truthfully 
 the public career of Bacon, and to comment on the 
 morale of the individual as it is exhibited in the light of 
 his relations to others, his writings, sayings, corre- 
 spondence, personal and political. These present the 
 picture of a timid, time-serving, unsuccessful place- 
 hunter, whose repeated failures took something each 
 time from the dignity of his character. But the most 
 extraordinary chapter of his life, and one which lifts the 
 office-seeker from the slough in which he seems to have 
 passed his whole existence, is that which presents him 
 to us in enforced retirement from public affairs, medi- 
 tating, between disappointments at court, in the closet 
 of the philosopher, and now, as the result, dazzling 
 the intellectual world with his "Advancement of 
 Learning." 
 
 The fame which he acquired through his parliament- 
 
72 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 ary career, and by his last, and as yet greatest, contri- 
 bution to philosophy, must have won over the "hand- 
 some maiden, to my liking," whom three years before 
 he had designed "to marry for convenient advance- 
 ment." For now, on the loth of May, 1606, he became 
 the husband of the beautiful and wealthy Alice Barn- 
 ham, daughter of a London alderman. A contempo- 
 raneous letter-writer gives an account of the wed- 
 ding:— 
 
 " Sir Francis Bacon was married yesterday to his young 
 wench, in Maribone Chapel. He was clad from top to toe 
 in purple, and hath made himself and his wife such store of 
 fine raiments of cloth of silver and gold that it draws deep 
 into her portion." 
 
 Sir Robert Cecil was now Prime Minister and the 
 Earl of Salisbury. Bacon had, as we have seen, made 
 warm protestations of confidence in his cousin's good- 
 will, and even indulged in expressions of a gratitude 
 which seems to have responded to Walpole's definition, 
 " a place-expectant's lively sense of future favors," for 
 he had received no promotion of any real dignity at the 
 hands of his cousin, whose kindness appears to have 
 been limited to procuring him knighthood, not as he 
 wanted it, but in the crowd of three hundred, who had 
 to pay for what had, under the Tudors, been conferred 
 as an honorable distinction. His warrant as Learned 
 Counsel, and the small annuity, were trifles in view of his 
 services. A loan of money, or the offer of a loan, was 
 about the only independent personal favor which Bacon 
 had ever received at his cousin's hands ; and although of 
 late he had been more profuse than ever in encouraging 
 expressions, when the time arrived to give substantial 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 73 
 
 proof of his sincerity, Salisbury suffered his cousin to 
 have the door shut again in his face when he stood on 
 the threshold of the coveted Solicitor-Generalship. On 
 the 29th of June, 1606, Coke was made Chief Justice 
 of the Court of Common Pleas. The custom under 
 Queen Elizabeth was to promote the Solicitor-General 
 to the office of Attorney-General ; and this had been 
 done on three occasions. But as this order of succes- 
 sion was not a rule, and the matter depended on the 
 King's pleasure, the indifference or treachery of Salis- 
 bury, supplemented, probably, by the ill-will of Coke, 
 resulted in the selection of Sir Henry Hobart for the 
 Attorney-Generalship, and the retention of the Solicitor- 
 General in his place. But as Bacon made every exer- 
 tion for the position, believing that a vacancy was inev- 
 itable, addressing petitioning letters to the King, Lord 
 Chancellor and Salisbury, he is again presented in the 
 familiar role of a disappointed yet persistent place- 
 hunter. The king and those around him probably 
 realized, after their adverse action, that they were guilty 
 of impolitic and unjust conduct towards Bacon; and 
 when the Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench, 
 in an accommodating spirit, died and opened a path to 
 the long-sought place, promotions made way for Bacon, 
 and on the 25th of June, 1607, he obtained the place 
 upon which he had fixed his eye in the year 1593, and 
 upon which he had kept it fastened ever since. 
 
 His exertions in the House of Commons on the heel 
 of' this appointment, in favor of the union of the two 
 kingdoms, in behalf of which he had already labored as 
 one of the commission to digest a scheme for that 
 purpose ; his efforts to persuade parliament to take the 
 first step by the passage of an act of naturalization; 
 
74 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 and, on failing to accomplish this, his device to con- 
 summate the King's wish by the decision of the courts ; 
 his brilliant argument before the judges in what is 
 known as the case of the Post-nati; and his untiring 
 zeal and superior ability in advancing the King's wishes, 
 all gave assurance to James that he had not made a 
 mistake in the choice of this servant, whatever doubts 
 he may have had of others whom he had hastened to 
 recognize and promote. 
 
 These years of political and professional activity in 
 the life of this extraordinary man were also years of 
 profound philosophical thought, and enthusiastic philo- 
 sophical labor. 
 
 The hours stolen from sleep, tlie breathing spaces 
 between sessions of parliament, the holidays, few in 
 number, of his busy career, were dedicated to the 
 development and elaboration of those theories and 
 methods which were afterwards to be known as 
 Baconian philosophy. 
 
 Here and there he would pause in his busy pursuit 
 of power, or its busy employment when obtained, to 
 devote his pen to historical, philosophical or legal sub- 
 jects ; and, as was said of Goldsmith, he touched noth- 
 ing which he did not adorn. His praise of Elizabeth's 
 name, and defense of her memory, a Latin treatise, 
 circulated in manuscript, his " Cogita et Visa" and 
 "Wisdom of the Ancients,'' were written during the 
 early years of James' reign. His mind, as a philos- 
 opher, dwelling all the time upon what he called his 
 "Great Instauration," under which title he compre- 
 hended whatever he should accomplish in revolutioniz- 
 ing English methods of scientific thought and investi- 
 gation, in supplying proper classification of human 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 75 
 
 knowledge, and the dedication of all to the advance- 
 ment of man's welfare. 
 
 The assembling of parliament in i6og drew Bacon 
 into the whirlpool of political life ; and until the disso- 
 lution, in 161 1, his active loyalty was demonstrated in 
 every possible way. The crown and commons came 
 into collision respecting the prerogative, and when 
 Bacon failed to pour oil on the troubled waters, he stood 
 up for the King. 
 
 A negotiation between the King and the commons, 
 whereby he should surrender certain royal revenues and 
 feudal rights, and they should secure him a compen- 
 satory supply of money, failed ; and in this parliament 
 Bacon fought stoutly for the King's right to "set 
 impositions upon merchandises without the assent of 
 parliament." 
 
 Now that his arena of political activity was closed 
 by the dissolution of the parliament, he resumed his 
 pen, and the result was a new edition of his "Essays," 
 enlarged and revised, which was published in 16 12. 
 
 The same pen that re-cast the " Essays," about the 
 same time addressed a letter to the King asking for 
 another office, to wit, the Attorney-Generalship, when 
 it should become vacant. After referring to how "pre- 
 ferments of the law fly about mine ears, to some above 
 me and some below me," and assigning this neglect to 
 the account of his modesty in asking, he repeats, in 
 this request, the almost inseparable threat of retirement 
 contingent on failure: — 
 
 " I may 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 unworthily), 
 and have some little reputation with the world, to give over 
 
76 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 the course I am in, and to make proof to do you some honor 
 by my pen." 
 
 A promise of the succession detained him as a 
 philosopher-in-waiting. This effect of his appeal to the 
 King indicates his growtli in influence ; but the scheme 
 which he soon accomplished presents him as something 
 of a power behind the throne. 
 
 Coke, -when he left the bar for the bench, left also 
 his bad manners behind him. He was a bullying 
 Attorney-General ; but his conduct as Chief Justice of 
 the Court of Common Pleas not only endeared him to 
 the practitioners, it contributed to the estimation in 
 which he was held as a learned lawyer. He had 
 become wedded to his court. Bacon contrived to have 
 him transferred to the Court of King's Bench, to have 
 Attorney-General Hobart succeed Coke, and himself 
 succeed Hobart. Coke is said to have wept — tears of 
 rage, probably — at thus being kicked up-stairs, and it 
 must have added no little to the antagonism he had 
 always exhibited toward Bacon. 
 
 In haste to follow Bacon in his rapid ascent, refer- 
 ence to events previous to his last promotion was 
 omitted. The chief of these were his efforts to divest 
 the charity of one Thomas Sutton, whose fortune was 
 devised in a channel which has since fed the charter- 
 house. He came forward as a volunteer, advising the 
 King to make a better will for the testator, and argued 
 the cause instituted by a pretended heir to break the 
 will. For this he has been much censured by his 
 critics, and excused by his apologists. 
 
 But there is a position taken, in his letter of advice 
 to the King, which exhibits that inconsistency so often 
 met with in his career. 
 
. HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 77 
 
 In his "Advancement of Learning" he submits this 
 answer to the objections of politicians: — 
 
 "It is without all controversy that learning doth make the 
 minds of men gentle, generous, maniable and pliant to 
 government, whereas ignorance doth make them churlish, 
 thwarting and mutinous." 
 
 Yet r ne argument he used with James, to encourage 
 the monarch to an illegal interference with the testa- 
 tor's disposition of his own in his own way, is thus 
 expressed : — 
 
 " For grammar schools there are already too many, and 
 therefore no providence to add where there is excess. For 
 the great number of schools which are in Your Highness' 
 realm doth cause a want, and doth cause likewise an over- 
 flow, both of them inconvenient, and one of them dangerous. 
 For by means of them they find want in the country and 
 towns, both of servants for husbandry and apprentices for 
 trade; and on the other hand, there being more scholars 
 bred than the State can prefer and employ, and the active 
 part of that life not bearing a proportion to the preparative, 
 it must needs fall out that many persons will be bred unfit 
 for other vocations, and unprofitable for that in which they 
 are brought up, which fills the realm full of indigent, idle 
 and wanton people. Therefore, in this point, I wish Mr. 
 Sutton's intention more exalted a degree, that that which he 
 meant for teachers of children. Your Majesty should make 
 for teachers of men." 
 
 Bacon had undertaken to establish the foundation of 
 a new organ in philosophical investigation, a new sys- 
 tem of study, and he wanted money and men to assist 
 in the accomplishment of this enterprise ; and to reach 
 his end, he did not hesitate to use any means. This is 
 the natural inference, or the alternative conclusion is, 
 
78 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 that a politician, philosopher, and historian, wise in 
 most matters above his fellows, could stultify himselfi 
 It was the mass of the people who, when ignorant, were 
 "churlish, thwarting and mutinous," and when elevated, 
 "maniable and pliant to government." The value of 
 the citizen to the State he knew depended on his intel- 
 ligence. " Now, the empire of man consists in knowl- 
 edge; for his power is what he knows," he says, in his 
 "Interpretation of Nature." * 
 
 Under the reign of Henry VIII., Colet, in 1510, 
 founded the first grammar school, near St. Paul's. We 
 are told that the image of the child Jesus was over the 
 master's chair, and beneath that image the words 
 "Hear ye Him;" and that the Dean thus wrote to the 
 little souls whom he desired so to disenthrall and free 
 from the ignorance which defiles and degrades : " Lift 
 up your little white hands for me, for me which prayeth 
 for you to God." And Bacon knew, when he stood 
 between the fountain of free knowledge and the thirst- 
 ing channels which waited to be filled, that, in the lan- 
 guage of a later historian, "the grammar schools of 
 Edward the Sixth and Elizabeth, in a word, the system 
 of middle-class education, which, by the close of the 
 century had changed the face of England, were the out- 
 come of Colet's foundation of St. Paul's." t 
 
 Another questionable course on the part of Bacon 
 was that which he took to recommend himself to James' 
 favor, to a promotion above the flight of ordinary 
 ambition. 
 
 His cousin, the Earl of Salisbury and Lord Treas- 
 urer, died May 24th, 1612. On the first of the year, 
 
 * Montagu's Edition. Vol. XV. p. 35. 
 
 t Green's History of English People. Vol. II. p. 86. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 79 
 
 in making acknowledgment of Salisbury's assurance 
 of aid in obtaining the Attorney-Generalship if Hobart 
 died, as he was expected to do, but did not, Bacon 
 indulges in this enthusiastic outburst: — 
 
 "And I do protest before God, without compliments or 
 any light vein of mind, that if I knew in what course of life 
 to do you best service, I would take it and make my 
 thoughts, which now fly to many pieces, be reduced to that 
 centre." 
 
 A few days after the death of one who inspired such 
 protestations, he wrote to the King in the following 
 strain about him : — 
 
 "Your Majesty hath lost a great subject and a great ser- 
 vant. But if I should praise him in propriety, I should say 
 he was a fit man to keep things from growing worse, but no 
 fit man to reduce things to be much better. For he loved 
 to have the eyes of all Israel a little too much about himself, 
 and to have all business still under the hammer and like 
 clay in the hands of the potter, to mould it as he thought 
 good; so that he was more in operatione than in opere. 
 And though he had fine passages of action, yet the real 
 conclusion came slowly on." 
 
 Is this not faint praise from a source so grateful three 
 months previous ? Not an expression of commendation 
 without a detrimental qualification. On the heel of this 
 ubiquitous obituary notice of his dead cousin, he calls 
 attention to his own fitness for the King's service. 
 After suggesting the propriety of leaving, for the time, 
 the two vacancies — that of Lord Treasurer and Sec- 
 retary — unfilled until the King had considered how 
 and when to summon parliament for the increase of 
 James' purse and popularities, he says: — 
 
" Now, because I take myself to have a little skill in that 
 region, as one that ever affected that Your Majesty mought, 
 in all your causes, not only prevail, but prevail vfith the sat- 
 isfaction of the inner man; and though no man can say but 
 that I was a perfect and peremptory royalist, yet 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 
 parliament. 
 
 "Your Majesty may truly perceive, that though I cannot 
 challenge to myself either invention or judgment, or elocu- 
 tion or method, or any of those powers, yet my offering is 
 care and observance. And as my good old mistress was 
 wont to call me her watch-candle, because it pleased her to 
 say I did continually burn (and yet she suffered me to waste 
 almost to nothing), so I must much more owe the like duty 
 to Your Majesty, by whom my fortunes have been settled 
 and raised. And so, craving pardon, I rest 
 
 "Your Majesty's most humble servant devote, 
 
 "F. B." 
 
 This letter was followed by another, in which he 
 offered himself for the position of Secretary. In this 
 he gives more importance to his diplomatic education, 
 or experience, in France, than it has received at the 
 hands of his biographers : — 
 
 " I was three of my young years bred with an ambassador 
 in France, and since I have been an old truant in the school- 
 house of your council-chamber; though on the second form, 
 yet longer than any that now setteth hath been on the head 
 form." 
 
 His offer to be promoted was not accepted ; but his 
 services in various ways were, especially in the consid- 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 8 1 
 
 eration of ways and means to relieve His Majesty from 
 monetary embarrassments. 
 
 His criticism of his dead cousin has already been 
 referred to. In a letter to the King, on the subject of 
 his estate, the following censure of Salisbury's course 
 in the matter of negotiating between James and his 
 parliament for money supply in exchange for the 
 surrender of feudal rights which had grown into 
 grievances: — 
 
 "My next prayer," writes Bacon, "is that Your Majesty, 
 in respect of the hasty freeing of your State, would not de- 
 scend to any means, or degree of means, which carrieth not 
 a symmetry with Your Majesty's greatness. He (Salisbury) 
 is gone from whom those courses did wholly flow. To have 
 j'our 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 together ; to have all your 
 courses to help yourself in revenue or profit put into priated 
 books, which were wont to be held arcana imperii j to have 
 such worms of aldermen" [very disrespectful to his father- 
 in-law,] "to lend for ten in the hundred upon good assurance, 
 and with such entreaty as if it would save the bark of your 
 fortune ; to contract still where mought 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 
 even carriage between Your Majesty's rights and the ease of 
 the people, and satisfy neither; these courses and others, 
 the like I hope are gone with the deviser of them, which 
 have turned Your Majesty to inestimable prejudice.'' 
 
 What a picture of such a minister as Salisbury is this 
 to hold up before such a King as James ! But that 
 Bacon should volunteer this terrible philippic against the 
 dead whom he had praised and thanked, and protested 
 
82 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 to "before God!" Such tergiversations from depend- 
 ence, humility and gratitude when a man is alive, to 
 license, bravery and abuse when he is dead, are what 
 almost excuse Pope's extravagant declaration that he 
 was "the meanest of mankind." 
 
 The wise councillors whom James inherited from 
 Elizabeth were now either dead or past the age of ac- 
 tive usefulness. The King's conceit made him, for a 
 time, his own minister. The Scotch favorite, Carr, 
 the Earl of Somerset, had no capacity ; so that circum- 
 stances were favorable for Bacon's obtaining, if not 
 place and power, at least a hearing in the affairs of 
 State. 
 
 James was very much embarrassed financially, and 
 the summoning of parliament seemed inevitable ; but it 
 meant scrutiny into the King's expenditures, complaints 
 on their part, concessions on his, and after these, a 
 subsidy, which would have to be purchased by a slice 
 of the prerogative. Bacon came forward at this junc- 
 ture, and in a long and elaborate paper tendered his 
 advice. Pending the consideration of this subject, he 
 became Attorney-General, and a contemporary letter- 
 writer — Chamberlain — thus comments on his appoint- 
 ment: "There is a strong apprehension that little good 
 is to be expected by this change, and that Bacon may 
 prove a dangerous instrument." This inference was 
 probably drawn from the ultra-royalty of his later years, 
 in and out of parliament, his unreserved protestations 
 of devotion to the King and his prerogative, coupled 
 with his now universally recognized ability and pli- 
 ability. The opinion of this writer receives additional 
 weight from the fact that, in the parliament which was 
 now — 1614 — summoned, opposition was made to. Bacon 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 83 
 
 taking his seat, on the ground that he was Attorney- 
 General, and as such, though it was not openly said, 
 too much the King's own. The motion did not, how- 
 ever, prevail. The King confronted the House of 
 Commons with the urgency of his necessities, and the 
 House confronted him with the people's grievances. 
 The sound of monopoly and imposition drowned the 
 voice of supply, and the King lost his temper and sent 
 the representatives bacli to their constituents. 
 
 And to these constituents the King decided to appeal 
 for that relief which the commons hesitated about 
 granting on demand. In other words, he proceeded to 
 replenish his exhausted exchequer by means of " Benev- 
 olences," or loans from the citizens requested through 
 sheriffs and other officers. The scheme started with a 
 free offering from the bishops, which was supplemented 
 by contributions from some of the lay-lords. Even the 
 parsimonious and money-loving Coke gave ;^2oo; but 
 the twenty-pound tender of other judges was rejected. 
 It is difficult to reconcile these offerings, coming on the 
 heel of a parliament dissolved by the King in anger, 
 with the crudest notions of constitutionality. The par- 
 liament had been called to supply th6 King with means 
 to carry on the government; and the constitutional 
 provision for such a supply was parliamentary taxation. 
 Parliament had not refused to make the necessary 
 grant; it had only postponed it in order to consider 
 other subjects of the first importance, in its opinion; 
 and while acting within constitutional limits, the King 
 lost his temper, and an abrupt dissolution followed. 
 Under these circumstances, any contribution on the 
 part of an individual was calculated to release the King 
 from all dependence on parliament, for the money 
 
84 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 power of the House of Commons was then developing 
 into the great bulwark of English liberty; its judicious 
 exercise was to purchase that liberty, and was to 
 protect it. 
 
 These voluntary contributions did little toward sat- 
 isfying the necessities of James, so it was decided to 
 send letters throughout England asking relief for the 
 royal beggar. These letters would have gone forth 
 under the Great Seal if Coke had not declared such a 
 course to be illegal. Bacon objected to the proposition 
 as impolitic. His idea was that they should not have 
 any official character, lest they might subject the King 
 to misconstruction. But they went forth from the 
 council addressed to sheriffs, justices of the peace and 
 mayors. 
 
 The relief dictated by Mr. Richard Turpin, on Houn- 
 slow Heath, was hardly less voluntary, hardly less of a 
 benevolence, than the aid thus demanded by the King. 
 
 Edward the Fourth is credited with the usurpation 
 of contracting loans without the assent of parliament, 
 with being the author of "benevolences." Although 
 reluctantly submitted to under him, to his successor a 
 protest was made against them, as "extortions and new 
 impositions against the laws of God and man, and the 
 liberty and laws of this realm," and the parliament of 
 Richard the Third declared them to be illegal. Henry 
 the Seventh returned to benevolences as one of the 
 instruments which might serve to make him independ- 
 ent of the parliament. It was in this spirit that they 
 originated ; it was because of this tendency they were 
 declared illegal. Henry the Eighth, through Wolsey, 
 improved upon the plans of his predecessors, and 
 reduced the raising of benevolences to a system, and 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 85 
 
 extended the arm of confiscation deeper into the coffers 
 of the citizens. He was finally met by a general and 
 powerful resistance: "The political instinct of the 
 nation discerned, as of old, that in the question of self- 
 taxation was involved that of the very existence of free- 
 dom." Elizabeth, although frequently involved in 
 financial difficulties which endangered her crown, 
 always a poor queen without ever being an extravagant 
 woman, never once descended to this measure, the last 
 resort of a royal beggar or a royal usurper. Even 
 when a parsimonious parliament voted a subsidy inad- 
 equate to the demands of the occasion, and supple- 
 mented their too cautious economy as a legislative 
 body with a suggestion that it would rejoice the hearts 
 of wealthy individuals to supply the lack with loans, 
 the offer was rejected. 
 
 When these letters were issued by the Council of 
 King James, addressed to the King's servants in the 
 various shires, it would be absurd to regard them in 
 the light of requests which might be refused without 
 incurring the displeasure of royalty, if more serious 
 penalties would not follow a rejection. 
 
 When a second circular, inspired by the want of en- 
 thusiasm on the part of the involuntary creditors of 
 the King, reached the town of Marlborough, in Wilt- 
 shire, the mayor asked advice of an impulsive English 
 squire named Oliver St. John. This gentleman replied 
 by letter for the enlightenment of the justices, and gave 
 it as his opinion that the whole affair was a breach of 
 Magna Charta, that James was guilty of a breach of his 
 oath, and that every lender would render himself liable 
 to excommunication as an accessory to a foresworn 
 King. He stated the law and the facts in too plain 
 
86 FRANCIS BACON J 
 
 English, and was summoned to the Star Chamber, 
 where Attorney-General Bacon prosecuted him suc- 
 cessfully. A heavy sentence followed, the spirit of 
 independence was bowed, St. John acknowledged his 
 offense, submitted to the King's mercy, and was 
 pardoned. 
 
 That there were no limits to Bacon's official zeal, 
 that he was therefore likely to " become a dangerous 
 instrument," was further illustrated by his conduct in 
 the Peacham prosecution. In the study of this aged 
 divine and staunch puritan a sermon was found which 
 contained reflections upon the King and government, — 
 the froth of a religious enthusiast; but it had never 
 been preached or published. The writer was hurried 
 to the Tower. Evidence independent of this manu- 
 script was wanting. The rack was called in to supply 
 the deficiency. Bacon went, with seven others, and 
 they interrogated the venerable and feeble prisoner 
 "before torture, during torture, between torture, and 
 after torture." His aged limbs were crucified, but his 
 stubborn spirit would not yield, and an unsatisfactory 
 report had to be made to "His most Christian 
 Majesty." 
 
 The too partial biographers of Bacon do not dwell 
 upon this incident in his career, and pass lightly over 
 his presence at this scene, credit him with one-eighth 
 of the responsibility, and surmise that if he had had 
 the sole management he would not have pursued this 
 course. His own pen not only ji;(stified the torture of 
 this weak old man, but commended its application as a 
 sovereign remedy for loosening the tongue of another 
 who declined to furnish evidence that was wanted to 
 secure his conviction and punishment. In a letter to 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 87 
 
 the King, touching a case and prisoner under exam- 
 ination, he says: — 
 
 " But I make no judgment yet, but will go on with all dili- 
 gence ; and, if it may not be done otherwise, it is fit Peacock 
 be put to the torture. He desei-veth it as well as Peacham 
 did. I beseech Your Majesty not to think I am more bitter 
 because my name is in it; for, besides that I always make 
 iny particular a C5rpher when there is a question of Your 
 Majesty's honor and service, 1 think myself honored by 
 being brought into so good company. And as, without flat- 
 tery, I think Your Majesty the best of Kings, and my noble 
 Lord of Buckingham the best of persons favored, so I hope, 
 without presumption, for my honest and true intentions to 
 State and justice, and my love to my master, I am not the 
 worst of chancellors. 
 
 " God preserve Your Majesty. 
 
 " Your Majesty's most obliged 
 
 "and most obedient servant, 
 
 "Fr. Verulam, Cauc. 
 
 "Feb. 10, 1619." 
 
 This was the opinion of Bacon six years later, as to 
 the persuasive influence of torture, and its legality. It 
 evidences, too, his willingness to promote its use, even 
 in a case where, from his letter, it appears he had some 
 personal animosity against, or at least had suffered 
 some personal wrong at the hands of, this candidate 
 for the rack. 
 
 Not being able to accumulate any evidence against 
 Peacham other than that afforded by his unpreached 
 sermon, it was resolved to consult the judges as to 
 whether or not this amounted to treason, — whether the 
 government could safely go to trial. Bacon undertook 
 to deal with Coke: "Not being wholly without hope," 
 he says, "that my Lord Coke himself, when I have, in 
 
88 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 some dark manner, put him in doubt that he shall be 
 left alone, will not continue singular." 
 
 The other judges having been approached separately, 
 yielded assent to the proposition. Coke at first hesi- 
 tated about giving an answer, saying, " Such auricular 
 taking of opinions was not according to the custom of 
 the realm." And when he did reply, it was to the 
 effect that " no words of scandal or defamation import- 
 ing that the King was utterly unworthy to govern, were 
 treason except they disabled his title." 
 
 Bacon, however, as Attorney-General, proceeded with 
 the preparation of the case, and Peacham was sent 
 down to Somersetshire, where he was tried. Sergeant 
 Crew and Solicitor Yelverton prosecuting him. He 
 was found guilty, yet was never executed, but died the 
 following year in Taunton jail. It was the spirit of 
 fear and not of mercy which saved him from the penalty 
 of his alleged treason. The previous and subsequent 
 history of the character of Peacham's offense is the 
 guide which is safest to follow in passing judgment upon 
 Bacon's conduct in bringing him to trial. With respect 
 to precedents, there does not appear to have been any 
 exactly in point. Blackstone refers to two persons 
 executed in the reign of Edward IV. : — 
 
 " The one a citizen of London, who said he would make 
 his son heir of the Crown, being the house in which he 
 lived. The other a gentleman, whose favorite buck the King 
 killed in hunting; whereupon he wished it, horns and all, in 
 the King's belly. These were esteemed hard cases; and 
 the Chief Justice Markham rather chose to leave his place 
 than assent to the latter judgment. But now it seems clearly 
 to be agreed, that by the Common Law and the statute of 
 Edward III., words spoken amount to only a high misde-r 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 89 
 
 meaner, and no treason. ... If the words be set down 
 in writing, it argues more deliberate intention, and it has 
 been lield that writing is an overt act of treason ; for scribere 
 est agere. But even in this case, the bare words are not the 
 treason, but the deliberate act of writing them. And such 
 writing, thougli unpublished, has, in some arbitrary reigns, 
 convicted its author of treason; particularly in the case of 
 one Peacham, a clergyman, for treasonable passages in a 
 sermon never preached ; and of .Algernon Sidney, for some 
 papers found in his closet. . . . But being merely spec- 
 ulative, without any intention, so far as appeared, of making 
 any public use of them, the convicting the authors of treason 
 upon such an insufficient foundation, has been universally 
 disapproved." * 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding these facts and legal conclu- 
 sions, the indignant censure of Lord Campbell, in his 
 " Life of Bacon," and of Macaulay, in his review of 
 Montagu's life of him, a partial apologist has recently 
 championed the subject of their condemnation in a 
 consideration of their accounts and conclusions, and 
 endeavored to excuse, if not justify. Bacon's course in 
 this most disgraceful of his official acts. 
 
 The folly of "benevolences " in the England of James 
 the First's time, was parallel with its illegality. The 
 loans he obtained were exhausted in about a year, and 
 so, probably, were his credit and the generosity of cour- 
 tier and patience of people. The inevitable parliament 
 had to be summoned; and little over a year after the 
 dissolution of the last, the King was consulting his 
 council about assembling the next. Bacon volunteered 
 advice calculated to prevent the mistakes which marred 
 the beginning of business in the late House of Com- 
 mons, prolonged the exciting and boisterous session, 
 
 • Fourth Bl. Com. So. 
 
90 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 and brought it to an abrupt close. But the subject was 
 postponed on account of the discovery that Sir Thomas 
 Overberry, whom the favorite Somerset had imprisoned, 
 had died in the Tower, of poison. The vulgar instru- 
 ments of the horrid crime were tried, convicted and 
 executed. The inspirers of it, the Earl and Countess 
 of Somerset, were waiting trial. It only needed some 
 such certainty to complete the downfall of James's first 
 favorite. For a new sun was advancing to its meridian 
 in the royal circle. Bacon's watchful eye was the first 
 to catch its rays, as it rose above the horizon; and 
 before other courtiers were aware of its presence, he 
 had concentrated its warming and fructifying beams 
 upon himself. It was thus that George Villiers, the 
 King's cup-bearer, aged twenty-three, and Francis 
 Bacon, the King's sense-bearer, aged fifty-four, became 
 as substance and shadow. In less than a year after 
 this young page's personal beauty and grace attracted 
 the King's fancy, he received knighthood and a pension 
 of ;^i,ooo pounds; and added to this was the flattering 
 attention of the middle-aged lawyer, statesman and 
 philosopher. To this frivolous page the profound 
 thinker and writer and wily politician attached himself 
 as a follower, and to him, subsequently, addressed that 
 famous letter, with its wealth of wisdom and morality, 
 containing the best counsel that disinterested age could 
 give inexperienced youth, basking in the sunshine of 
 royal favoritism. This paper went further; it was a 
 statesman's advice to a King whom he had not the 
 moral courage to approach directly with counsel so 
 opposite, in so many respects, to that King's habits of 
 thought and action. 
 
 Having been drawn closer to the King by demon- 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. gi 
 
 strations of unquestioning obedience to every wish, by 
 services which James valued in the degree that they 
 degraded Bacon personally, and by the absence of able 
 rivals, the Attorney-General began to renew his pursuit 
 of place. The Lord Chancellor was old and feeble. 
 An attack of extreme illness afforded Bacon an opening 
 for presenting himself to the king. He first wrote : — 
 
 " My Lord Chancellor's sickness falleth out duro tempore. 
 I have always known him a wise man, and of a just eleva- 
 tion for monarchy. But Your Majesty's service must not be 
 mortal. And if you leese him, as Your Majesty hath now, 
 of late, purchased many hearts by depressing the wicked, so 
 God doth minister unto you a counterpart to do the like by 
 raising the honest. God evermore preserve your Majesty. 
 " Your Majesty's most humble subject 
 
 " and devoted servant. 
 
 "Feb. 9, 1615." 
 
 But hearing that the King had written to the invalid, 
 he re-wrote his own letter, substituting for the above 
 paragraph, the following : — 
 
 " My Lord Chancellor's sickness falleth out duro tempore. 
 I have ever known him a wise man, and of a just elevation 
 for monarchy. I understand this afternoon, by Mr. Murray, 
 that your M. hath written to him ; and I can best witness 
 how much that sovereign cordial wrought with him in his 
 sickness this time twelvemonth, which sickness was not so 
 much in his spirits as this is. I purpose to see my L. to- 
 morrow, and then I will be bold to write to your M. what 
 hope I have either of liis continuance or of his return to 
 business, that your M.'s service may be as little passive as 
 can be by this accident. God have your M. in his precious 
 custody. 
 
 " Your M.'s most humble subject 
 
 " and most bounden servant, 
 
 "1 61 5. Fr. Bacon." 
 
g2 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 He saw the Lord Chancellor, and read death and a 
 vacancy in his face; and this is the "hope of his con- 
 tinuance, or of his return to business," which was 
 promised the King. 
 
 " It may please your most excellent Majesty, your worthy 
 Chancellor, I fear, goes 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 a true sage, 
 or salvia, out of your garden. But Your Majesty's service 
 must not be mortal. 
 
 " Upon this heavy accident, I pray Your Majesty, in all 
 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, it was your own sole act, more than 
 that Somerset, when he knew Your Majesty had resolved it, 
 thrust himself into the business for a fee ; and therefore 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 ;£6,ooo per annum, and 
 fourthly of my place of the Star Chamber, which is worth 
 £1,600 per annum, and with the favor and countenance of a 
 Chancellor much more." 
 
 Having laid at the King's feet himself and his be- 
 longings, he proceeds to assign reasons why James 
 should take him by the hand and lead him to the wool 
 sack: — 
 
 " I hope I may be acquitted of presumption if I think of 
 it, both because my father had the place, which is some civil 
 inducement to my desire (and I pray God may have twenty 
 no worse years in your greatness than Queen Elizabeth had 
 in her model, after my father's placing), and chiefly because 
 the Chancellor's place went to the law, it was ever conferred 
 upon some of the Learned Counsel, and never upon a judge. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 93 
 
 For Audley was raised from King's Serjeant; my father 
 from Attorney of tlie wards; Bromley from solicitor; Puck- 
 ering from Queen's Serjeant; and Egerton from Master of 
 the Rolls, having newly left the Attorney's place." 
 
 This list of precedents was designed to enforce a 
 rule on the King's mind which would, if recognized, 
 influence him to pass over all law officers until he 
 reached that class at whose head stood the Attorney- 
 General. His next step is to criticise each of his 
 probable rivals in such a way as to excite the King's 
 natural jealousy of his prerogative: — 
 
 " Now, I beseech Your Majesty, let me jjut you the pres- 
 ent case truly. If you take my Lord Coke, this will follow : 
 First, Your Majesty shall put an overruling nature in an over- 
 ruling place, which may breed an extreme. Next, you shall 
 blunt his industries in the matter of your finances, which 
 seemeth to aim at another place. And, lastly, popular men 
 are no sure mounters for Your Majesty's saddle. If you 
 take my Lord Hubbard, you shall have a Judge at the upper 
 end of your council board and another at the lower end, 
 whereby Your Majesty will find your prerogative pent; for 
 though there should be emulation between them, yet, as 
 legists, they will agree in magnifying that wherein they are 
 best. He is no statesman, but an economist, wholly for 
 himself; so as Your Majesty, more than at outward form, 
 will find little help in him for your business. 
 
 " If you take my Lord of Canterbury, I will say no more 
 but the Chancellor's place requires a whole man; and to 
 have both jurisdiction, spiritual and temporal, in that height, 
 is fit but for a King." 
 
 He next offers himself, in contrast not only with 
 these rivals, but with the then incumbent : — 
 
 "For myself, I can only present Your Majesty -viith gloria 
 m obseguio. Yet 1 dare promise that if I sit in that place, 
 
94 
 
 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 your business shall not make such short terms upon you as 
 it doth, but when a direction is once given it shall be pur- 
 sued and performed, and Your Majesty shall only be troubled 
 with the true care of a King, which is to think what you 
 would have done in chief, and not how far the passages." 
 
 It will be recollected that in liis letter of the 9th of 
 February, and its substitute, he refers to the Lord 
 Chancellor as a wise man, and one of a just elevation 
 for monarchy; but now, in the belief that death's hand 
 was upon Ellesmere, Bacon charges him with misman- 
 agement of the King's business, and pledges that blind 
 obedience to James which men feared would be his 
 course when he was appointed Attorney-General, and 
 when they expressed apprehension lest he should be- 
 come a dangerous instrument. 
 
 Proceeding with his self-endorsement, he dwells on 
 his parliamentary inflaence, and on the true role of a 
 true servant of the King : — 
 
 " I do presume, also, in respect of my father's memory, 
 and that I have been always gracious in the Lower House, I 
 have some interest in the gentlemen of England, and shall 
 be able to do some effect in rectifying that body of parlia- 
 ment men, which is cardo reruni. For let me tell Your 
 Majesty that that part of the Chancellor's place which is to 
 judge in equity between party and party, that same regnum 
 judiciale (which, since my father's time, is but too much 
 enlarged), concerneth Your Majesty least, more than the 
 acquitting of your conscience for justice. But it is the 
 other parts, — of a moderator amongst your council, of an 
 overseer over your judges, of a planter of fit justices and 
 governors in the country, that importeth your affairs and 
 these times most. 
 
 " I will also add that I hope, by my care, the inventive 
 part of your council will be strengthened, who now comr 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 95 
 
 monly do exercise rather their judgments than their inven- 
 tions, and the inventors come from projectors and private 
 men, which cannot be so well; in which kind my Lord of 
 Salisbury had a good method, if his ends had been upright." 
 
 This final shot at his dead cousin closes this letter 
 of abuse of others and praise of himself. The Lord 
 Chancellor recuperated ; but Bacon had not pleaded in 
 vain. He received from Villiers a promise of succes- 
 sion, and expressed his gratitude to the favorite in even 
 stronger language than he was wont to use to Essex : — 
 
 "I am yours," he writes; "surer to you than 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. 
 
 "Your truest servant, 
 
 "Fr. Bacon. 
 "Feb'y 15, 161 5." 
 
 His postscript tells of a half-an-hour's visit to the Lord 
 Chancellor: "We both wept, which I do not often." 
 Servility parting with ambition's bauble — the Great 
 Seal — wept! What was it that brought tears to Ba- 
 con's eyes ? He had very recently contemplated Elles- 
 mere's death with complacency. He had made him a 
 curious call, and after diagnosis, had petitioned to 
 succeed the presumably dying man, under whom the 
 King's business made such short turns, etc. 
 
 At one of his levees, George II. noticed a stranger 
 present, and asked Pulteney who he was. "That, sir," 
 said the minister, "is Mr. Hely Hutchinson, Provost 
 of Dublin, a man who, if Your Majesty should give him 
 the United Kingdom, would ask you for the Isle of 
 Man as potato-garden." 
 
96 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 Of the same kidney was Bacon. Having thanked 
 Villiers on the 15th of February for the promise of the 
 Great Seal when death or resignation should retire 
 EUesmere, on the 21st he asks Villiers to have him 
 made a Privy Councillor : — 
 
 "My Lord Chancellor," he adds, "told me yesterday, in 
 plain terms, that if the King would ask his opinion touching 
 the person he would commend to succeed him upon death or 
 disability, he would name me for the fittest man. You may 
 advise whether use may not be made of this offer. 
 
 "I sent, a pretty while since, a paper to Mr. John Murray, 
 which was indeed a little remembrance of some things past, 
 concerning my honest and faithful services to His Majesty; 
 not by way of boasting (from which I am far), but as tokens 
 of my studying his service uprightly and carefully. If you 
 be pleased to call for the paper, which is with Mr. John 
 Murray, and to find a fit time that His Majesty may cast an 
 eye upon it, I think it will do no hurt; and I have written 
 to Mr. Murray to deliver the paper if you call for it. God 
 keep you in all happiness. 
 
 "Your truest servant." 
 
 Trusting his cause to his autobiography and his friend, 
 he now was called upon to prosecute Somerset, the late 
 favorite, and his countess. Her guilt, as the instigator 
 of the poisoning of Overberry, admitted of no defense, 
 so she confessed, begged for mercy, and obtained it. 
 Somerset stood his trial, and was convicted. Bacon 
 prosecuted the feminine poisoner mildly, and afterwards 
 prepared the pardon which the King signed. The 
 merciful course of the King and his law servants to- 
 wards the instigators of this vilest species of murder, 
 after, too, that their tools had been dealt with sum- 
 marily; the hesitancy on the part of James to stand 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 97 
 
 aside and let the case take the ordinary course ; the 
 peculiar conduct of Somerset, which gave rise to a sus- 
 picion — whether well founded or not is hard to say — 
 that he held some secret which intimidated the King, 
 all involve the story in a cloud, so that no one of the 
 participators is seen in a favorable light. Bacon's 
 promise, "It shall be my care so to moderate the man- 
 ner of charging him as it might make him not odious 
 beyond the extent of mercy," takes the mind back to 
 the time when it was his care so to aggravate the 
 manner of charging Essex as it might make him odious 
 beyond the extent of mercy. 
 
 The next correspondence supplying links in Bacon's 
 career are two letters to Villiers, in the spring of 1616 : 
 the first urging the execution of the King's good inten- 
 tions towards Bacon in respect to membership of the 
 council ; the second deciding to be sworn as Councillor, 
 instead of accepting an assurance of succession to the 
 chancellorship, which the tenacious Ellesmere still held. 
 And so he became legally what he had so long a time 
 been in fact, one of the King's advisers. In the dual 
 capacity of Attorney-General and Councillor, his first 
 service was to contribute to the degradation of his life- 
 long rival. Coke, who, with all his faults, was then 
 regarded as the champion of an independent judiciary, 
 and of the constitution against the encroachments of 
 the executive, and for which his memory is now held 
 sacred. In a case before Coke, the counsel denied 
 that the King could make a certain grant. Bacon and 
 the Lord Chancellor prepared a letter, which was sent 
 under the Privy Seal, commanding the Chief Justice to 
 suspend the hearing until James could be consulted. 
 The ground assumed was that the King's prerogative 
 
 D 
 
98 FRANCIS 5AC0N ; 
 
 was involved in the question. Coke requested th 
 like letters should be sent to the other judges, whii 
 was done. They all, after consultation, responded th 
 the letters received required them to break their oath 
 and that under the law the case must be heard. Tl 
 King summoned them before him and scolded them f 
 their disrespect. On their knees they apologized fi 
 the independent expressions they had used in givir 
 their opinion, but did not retract. Coke offered r 
 excuse, but a defense, saying, "The delay required w; 
 against law and their oaths." 
 
 Bacon, who, with the Lord Chancellor, was presen 
 spoke up, antagonized Coke, and argued with tl: 
 judges. Coke resented his interference, and these tw 
 exchanged hot words. The King and Lord Chancellc 
 reinforced the Attorney-General. Then were tl: 
 judges asked, if the King required them to stay a ca: 
 pending, which invoh'ed his power or profit, until the 
 could consult with him, would they do it. All sav 
 Coke said they would. His answer was: "When th 
 case shall be, I will do that which shall be fit for 
 judge to do." 
 
 Mr. Hallam, in his "Constitutional History," give 
 a graphic sketch of this scene; — 
 
 "Having been induced, by a sense of duty, or through tli 
 ascendency Coke had acquired over them, to make a sho 
 of withstanding the Court, they behaved like cowardl 
 rebels, who surrender at the first discharge of cannon, an 
 prostituted their integrity and their fame through dread ( 
 losing their offices, or rather, perhaps, of incurring the ui 
 merciful and ruinous penalties of the Star Chamber." 
 
 Coke was summoned before the Council, and mad 
 answer to a stale charge of some irregularity in mone 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 99 
 
 dealings, to the charge of disrespectful disregard of 
 Bacon's argument in the King's presence, and his 
 refusal to yield as the other judges had done. His 
 defense was heard and reported to the King. 
 
 The prosecution did not stop here. The Lord 
 Chancellor, Attorney-General Bacon, and Solicitor Yel- 
 verton, after overhauling Coke's " Reports," suggested 
 to the King that his sacred prerogative had been 
 assailed in those volumes. The result was that James, 
 through his Council, directed the Lord Chief Justice 
 to vacate for the present both his seat in the Council 
 and on the Bench. He was ordered to employ his 
 enforced holiday in overlooking his " Reports," for his 
 "exorbitant and extravagant opinions set down and 
 published for positive and good law." When Coke 
 had finished this criticism of Coke, he was to "bring 
 the same privately to himself (James) that he might 
 consider thereof, as in his princely judgment should 
 be found expedient." 
 
 James turned from disgracing Coke to honoring 
 Villiers, whom he now, August 27, 1616, created a 
 viscount. A favorite with James meant his familiar 
 and inseparable companion, whom he fondled, kissed, 
 and slobbered over in a disgusting way. In exchange 
 for submission to these endearments the recipient 
 enjoyed unbounded influence, personal and political, 
 over the King. We have seen how long and persist- 
 ent were the efforts of Bacon to obtain the least 
 recognition of his great gifts and deserts at the hands 
 of Elizabeth, and how she died without having advanced 
 him many steps beyond the threshold of the door at 
 which he stood knocking from 3'outh to middle age. 
 Upon James' accession he did not cease his efforts at 
 
lOO FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 preferment, and in this, as in the former reign, h( 
 placed his hopes and reliance on men younger thai 
 himself. Between his age and that of Essex then 
 were but a few years, but he was nearly twice as ok 
 as Villiers, whom he now saw, in the short space o 
 two years, advanced from the place of a page, thf 
 King's cup-bearer, to that of a peer of England 
 Villiers is described by his contemporaries as verj 
 handsome in form and feature, as personally brave 
 with a sort of chivalric frankness toward those againsi 
 whom he used the influence he wielded. So wel 
 assured of the favor of James, he seems to have nevei 
 feared the enmity of others ; and when he struck, ii 
 was done after declaring his displeasure openly. He 
 spent three years in France, and returned at the age 
 of twenty-one a polished young courtier. Clarendon 
 thus describes him : — 
 
 "In a few days after his first appearance in court he was 
 made cup-bearer to the King; by this he was, of course, to 
 be much in his presence, and so admitted to that conversa- 
 tion and discourse with which that prince always abounded 
 at his meals. His inclinations to the new cup-bearer dis- 
 posed him to administer frequent occasions of discoursing 
 of the Court of France, and the transactions there, with 
 which he had been so lately acquainted that he could perti- 
 nently enlarge upon that subject, to the King's great delight, 
 and to the gaining of the esteem and value of all the stand 
 ers-by to himself; which was a thing the King was well 
 pleased with. He acted very few works upon this stage, 
 when he mounted higher; and being knighted without an\ 
 other quaHiications, he was at the same time made Gentle 
 man of the Bedchamber and Knight of the Order of th( 
 Garter; and in a short time (very short for such a prodio-ioui 
 ascent) he was made a baron, a viscount and earl^ a njar 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. lOI 
 
 quis, and became Lord High Admiral of England, Lord 
 Warden of the Cinque Ports, Master of the Horse, and 
 entirely disposed of all the graces of the King, in conferring 
 all the honors and all the oiSces of the three kingdoms, 
 without a rival ; in dispensing whereof in it as guided more 
 by the rules of appetite than of judgment ; and so exalted 
 almost all of his numerous family and dependents, whose 
 greatest merit was their alliance to him, which equally offend- 
 ed the nobility and the people of all conditions, who saw the 
 flowers of their crown every day fading and withered, whilst 
 the demesnes and revenue thereof were sacrificed to the 
 enriching of a private family (how well soever originally 
 extracted), scarce ever heard of before to the nation; and 
 the expenses of the court so vast and unlimited that they 
 had a sad prospect of that poverty and necessity which 
 afterward befell the crown, almost to the ruin of it." 
 
 This was the man unto whom with a politician's 
 prescience Bacon had attached himself. The attrac- 
 tion was mutual, and at first the young favorite looked 
 up to the experienced lawyer and statesman for advice 
 in a situation rendered somewhat trying by the sudden- 
 ness of his rise. It was to furnish a lamp to his 
 pathway that "A Letter of Advice, written by Sir 
 Fraijcis Bacon, to the Duke of Buckingham, when He 
 became Favorite to King James" was composed. 
 Bacon, it will be seen by the tone of his letter, 
 recognizes the influence of the young favorite. 
 
 " Being overruled by your Lordship's command, first by 
 word, and since by your letters, I have chosen rather to 
 show my obedience than to dispute the danger of discover- 
 ing my weakness in adventuring to give advice on a subject 
 too high for me." 
 
 This, from one who had all his life been a volunteer 
 of advice to secretaries of state and sovereigns, must 
 
I02 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 be accepted as incense upon the altar of one who had 
 already wielded, and was to wield, influence in the 
 distribution of place and power. He proceeds : — 
 
 "You are now the King's favorite, so voted and so 
 esteemed by all. You are as a continual sentinel, always 
 to stand upon your watch, to give him true intelhgence. 
 If you flatter him, j'ou betray him. If you conceal the 
 truth of those things from him which concerns his justice 
 or his honor (although not the safety of his person), you 
 are as dangerous a traitor to his state as he that resisteth 
 in arms against him. A false friend is more dangerous 
 than an open enemy." 
 
 Proceeding with his subject, Bacon develops this 
 letter into a series of golden rules, every one a light 
 to the pathway of King as well as favorite. It is a 
 valuable essay upon the proper administration of pub- 
 lic affairs, and serves to illustrate how the pen was to 
 Bacon what the Wonderful lamp was to Aladdin. With 
 that in his hand he vseemed to live in another world, 
 far from the one in j(fe^Jdi he played so often so ignoble 
 a part. It reaiis/ as a ij^ifession of what he would 
 have done if theSream cif his youth and manhood 
 had been realized ; like a Ipromise of what he would 
 do were they realized ir., the future. When he laid 
 aside his pen, he tooV up, by the King's command, 
 the persecution, foT' it deserves no other name, of 
 Chief Justice C'oke, who appeared before the Lord 
 Chancellor anS Attorney-General to answer respecting 
 the alleged errors in his " Reports." 
 
 Instead of humility and retraction, he told them in 
 substance that he had found the legal treasures freer 
 from errors than might have been expected. After 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 103 
 
 some forthet consideration and consultation, and when 
 Coke had explained some misinterpreted expressions, 
 the Chief Jvistice was removed from the Bench. 
 
 As a set-off to what modern lawyers agree in calling 
 the disgraceful conduct of Bacon in the whole proceed- 
 ing against the great judge, we have the wise and 
 beneficent proposition of the first of England's reform- 
 ers to recompile her laws ; for as such reformer Bacon 
 stands first. We have seen that his proposition to 
 regulate weights and measures was renewed, and first 
 enacted in the reign of William IV. ; and in the parlia- 
 ment of 1614 he offered a bill for the reform of penal 
 laws, which Sir Robert Peel read as a part of his 
 argument in support of a similar measure, in 1826, 
 saying : — 
 
 "The lapse of two hundred and fifty years has increased 
 the necessity of the measure which Lord Bacon then pro- 
 posed, but it has produced no argument in favor of the prin- 
 ciple, no objection adverse to it which he did not anticipate " 
 
 The career of Bacon under Elizabeth was signalized 
 by repeated disappointments. All that he attained to 
 in office was the honor of Counsel Learned Extraordi- 
 nary ; that is a position which was without a commission 
 or warrant, which subjected him to ill-natured remarks 
 of Coke because he was an unsworn Counsellor, and 
 therefore regarded from a professional standpoint as a 
 sort of interloper, although he labored most diligently 
 in the business of the Queen, whenever he was em- 
 ployed in her affairs. The only recognition he received 
 by way of emolument was a reversion, whose enjoyment 
 was postponed for the wearisome waiting term of twenty 
 years. 
 
But his rise under James illustrated the truth of the 
 proverb that "nothing succeeds like success." The 
 regular appointment of Learned Counsel was supple- 
 mented by a small annuity; then followed that of Judge 
 of the Court of the Verge of the Palace, the Solicitor- 
 Generalship, the Attorney-Generalship, the Chancellor- 
 ship of the Duchy of Cornwall, thrown in as an inci- 
 dental, the place of Privy Councillor, and at last, on 
 the 7th of March, 1617, he became Lord Keeper of 
 the Great Seal, one step removed from the goal of an 
 English lawyer's ambition. To the young favorite he 
 was indebted, and to him he poured out the flood of 
 gratitude which swelled his bosom: — 
 
 "In this day's work," he writes to Buckingham, "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 honor in speech, or 
 perform you service in deed. 
 
 " Good my Lord, account and accept me, 
 
 "Your most bounden and devoted friend 
 
 "and servant, of all men living, 
 
 " Fr. Bacon, C. S." 
 
 His new position placed him at the helm of the ship 
 of state, and the dream of his youth, the hope of his 
 manhood was realized. If he had not been sandwiched 
 between a conceited and cowardly king, and a willful, 
 ignorant and selfish favorite; or if his devotion to place 
 had been secondary to that courageous independence 
 which must supplement wisdom in high places to make 
 it available for the public good, the name of Bacon 
 might have been associated with that of the greatest 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 105 
 
 ministers of state. But his chief object was to please 
 the King and oblige the favorite. 
 
 Yet, even when committing himself to these two 
 ends, here and there is seen the spontaneous outcrop- 
 ping of his higher and better nature. An instance of 
 this is furnished by his letter of advice to James, touch- 
 ing the contemplated marriage contract between Prince 
 Charles and the Infanta of Spain. The King had 
 entered into this negotiation of his own will and 
 wisdom, and no one knew better than Bacon that such 
 a marriage would be regarded by the mass of English- 
 men as an insult to the memory of Elizabeth, with 
 whom and for whom they and their fathers had fought 
 Philip and the Pope, as a thieat against Protestantism, 
 as the death-blow to Puritanism, as endangering the 
 liberties which Elizabeth had established and left for a 
 birthright. Yet Bacon did not oppose the King's mad 
 proposition. But he did urge James to broaden his 
 negotiations with Spain. His first propositien was that 
 the two sovereigns should unite for the extirpation of 
 piracy, thus anticipating that international action 
 which, centuries later, accomplished this great security 
 to the commerce of the world. 
 
 His next proposition was the joint declaration of a 
 holy war against the infidel Turk; not so profound 
 and philanthropic a scheme, but a diplomatic effort 
 to make oil and water mix, to overshadow the union 
 of a Protestant prince to a Roman Catholic princess, 
 by a union of a Protestant people and a Roman Cath- 
 olic people against a common foe. 
 
 His third proposition was to establish an interna- 
 tional tribunal for the settlement of mutual wrongs 
 without going to war. It is true that he meant to 
 
lo6 FRAIiTCIS BACON ; 
 
 narrow and confine the jurisdiction of this court to the 
 two sovereigns, but it was the germ of that great vic- 
 tory over lingering barbarism which England and the 
 United States, in the last half of the 19th century, have 
 accomplished.* 
 
 His last proposition was aimed at crushing out the 
 spirit of democracy by a union of monarchies against 
 it: an idea acted upon, to some extent, indirectly at 
 least, and which has served to deprive every European 
 monarchy save England of the blessing of a free 
 constitution. 
 
 On the 7th of May, 1617, Bacon was installed as 
 Lord Keeper. The King, Buckingham and their reti- 
 nue had recently left for a jaunt to Scotland; but the 
 philosopher managed to arrange a showy procession 
 and ceremony. 
 
 " Our Lord Keeper," says a contemporary letter-writer, "ex- 
 ceeds all his predecessors in the bravery and multitude of his 
 servants. It amazes those that look on his beginnings, be- 
 sides never so indulgent a master. On the first day of term 
 he appeared in his greatest glory; for to the Hall, besides his 
 own retinue, did accompany him all the Lords of his Majes- 
 ty's Council and others, with all Knights and gentlemen that 
 could get horses and foot-cloths." 
 
 The procession started from Gray's Inn, where, 
 thirty-eight years before, Bacon had almost hopelessly 
 entered upon the study of the law. After taking the 
 oaths of office, he delivered an inaugural address, 
 exhibiting his familiarity with and appreciation of the 
 principles of law and equity; he indicated the course 
 
 * Referring national quarrels to an international tribunal instead 
 of to the cannon, the ultima ratio regum. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 1 07 
 
 which he would take, the improvements which he would 
 initiate, and the rules he would prescribe for the facili- 
 tation of business and the administration of equity. 
 
 At the close of his speech he commenced business, 
 and rather marred the effect of his eloquence by- 
 exhibiting an awkwardness in handling a motion made 
 by a young lawyer. However, with a grateful and joy- 
 ous heart he reported the day's doings to the favorite, 
 and forwarded to the King a copy of his address. 
 
 After this he entered upon the practical duties of his 
 office with great zest, and by great diligence disposed 
 of many cases then pending and long delayed. 
 
 Upon Justice Hutton being called to the bench of 
 the Court of Common Pleas, Bacon delivered an ad- 
 dress which is unparalleled for its condensed character- 
 ization of all that goes to make up a good judge. His 
 discriminating eye had detected, perhaps he had suf- 
 fered from, the errors and faults most common to the 
 judiciary, and he laid down eleven rules, which would 
 to-day serve to elevate and purify the bench, if taken 
 to heart. In fact, they are worthy of being engraved 
 in golden letters upon imperishable tablets, and set up 
 in every court-room as a constant admonition to the 
 judicial mind. 
 
 In his subsequent address, upon the elevation of Sir 
 John Denham to be a Baron of the Exchequer, he was 
 not so happy, and declared himself in these unequivocal 
 terms respecting the royal prerogative : — 
 
 "First, therefore, above all, you ought to maintain the 
 King's prerogative, and to set down with yourself that the 
 King's prerogative and law are not two things ; but the 
 King's prerogative is law, and the principal part of the law : 
 the first-born, ox pars premia of the law." 
 
I08 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 Everything that was done or said by Bacon was 
 reported to the absentees, whose stay in Scotland was 
 relieved of all anxiety by the diligence of so zealous a 
 servant. But he whose ambition it is to please every- 
 body must offend some. The Queen became dissatis- 
 fied with her Solicitor, Mr. Lowder, therefore Bacon 
 sent him to the north, with a letter to Buckingham, in 
 which he says : — 
 
 " Upon knowledge of her (the Queen's) pleasure he was 
 willing to part with his place, upon hope not to be destituted, 
 but to be preferred to one of the Baron's places in Ireland. 
 I pray move the King for him, and let His Majesty know 
 from me that I think (howsoever he pleased not here), he is 
 fit to do His Majesty's service in that place ; he is grave and 
 formal (which is somewhat there), and sufBcient enough for 
 that place. 
 
 " The Queen hath made Mr. Haskwell her solicitor, etc." 
 
 Later on it will be seen that Bacon's ready disposi- 
 tion to humor the Queen in this matter, furnished the 
 King with his first ground of complaint and censure. 
 
 While Bacon was revelling in the role of Lord 
 Keeper, the unfrocked Chief Justice was chafing in 
 the retirement to which his rival had been so active in 
 consigning him. Coke pretended to think little of 
 Bacon's legal ability, had no sympathy with his philo- 
 sophical predilections, was probably jealous of his fame 
 as an author, despised his subserviency, and perhaps 
 dreaded his pliability as instrumental for danger to 
 England's liberties ; for, with all his faults, the Chief 
 Justice was a patriot. 
 
 Rage, jealousy and patriotism inspired him to look 
 around for some escape from his inactive, powerless 
 and distasteful retirement. Meditating over his own 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. log 
 
 wrongs and his country's dangers, knowing that he whj 
 pleased the favorite was in the light, and he who dis 
 pleased him, in the darkness, — for his own decline 
 began with a refusal on his part to appoint a follower 
 of Buckingham's to an office, — the wily Chief Justice 
 listened favorably to the renewal of a proposal of mar- 
 riage between his youngest daughter and Sir John 
 Villiers, a brother of the favorite. The shaft struck 
 the mark, for he was soon at Newmarket, kissing His 
 Majesty's hands, and receiving assurances of employ- 
 ment in some capacity other than judicial. 
 
 He and Lady Hatton — for so his wife insisted on 
 being called, having repudiated her husband's name — 
 shortly before this time had engaged in litigation 
 respecting her property, and the two had frequently 
 regaled the Council-table with their bickerings. The 
 peace which was there patched up was broken when 
 she heard of her husband's proposed matrimonial dis- 
 position of her daughter. To avoid its conclusion she 
 eloped with the maiden. At this juncture Bacon 
 appeared upon the scene. 
 
 He who had suffered injustice, ill-deeds and ill-will 
 at the hands of Coke, who had seen his legal rival 
 marry the woman whom he sought, who appreciated 
 and feared the ability, courage and willfulness of the 
 disgraced Chief Justice, he who had been so instru- 
 mental in his downfall, could not be expected to look 
 favorably upon so close a connection with Buckingham 
 as this marriage would create. It implied restoration 
 to favor, to power, to opposition, and perhaps to su- 
 premacy in the King's Council. 
 
 When, therefore, Lady Compton, the mother of the 
 favorite and of the expectant bridegroom, applied to 
 
no FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 Bacon, in the name of Coke, for a warrant to recover 
 his daughter, who had been so summarily and secretly- 
 removed from his reach, Bacon refused to grant her 
 request, and she left him in anger, and in anger reported 
 his conduct to her son. It is alleged that Bacon was 
 not informed that she spoke in that son's name, nor 
 acquainted with Buckingham's anxiety for the match. 
 However, his course was so opposite to what might 
 have been expected of him in the premises, that one 
 might reasonably infer that when suddenly confronted 
 with the alternative of either aiding Coke in his scheme 
 for restoration, or of offending Buckingham's mother, 
 he chose the latter, trusting to the future for smoothing 
 over matters with the favorite. Yet he did not wait for 
 Buckingham's return, but wrote him a letter, from 
 which the following paragraphs are taken: — 
 
 "My 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 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 that Secretary Winwood hath ofHciously 
 ■ busied Iiimself 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 Ed- 
 ward 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 mothers 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 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. Ill 
 
 towards Your Lordship, I hold very inconvenient both for 
 your brother and yourself. 
 
 " 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 dislil<ed. 
 
 " 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 lapse into those inconveniences which are now well on 
 to be recovered. 
 
 "Therefore, my advice is, and Your Lordship shall do 
 yourself great honor 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 pro- 
 ceeded in without the consent of both parents; and so either 
 break it altogether, or defer any further dealings in it till 
 Your Lordship's return." 
 
 A thread of argument runs through this advice which 
 connects it with Bacon's fear of, and antagonism to, 
 Coke. It is the weakest offspring of his pen. How 
 was the house of Coke disgraced, when the profession 
 and the people regarded him in retirement as the 
 champion of an independent judiciary and free consti- 
 tution, as a martyr to principle ? How could that be a 
 disgraced house, when its head was receiving flattering 
 assurances of favor from the King, and whose alliance 
 with the favorite's family would wipe out in the minds 
 
112 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 of courtiers the stain which persecution had endeavored 
 to put upon it? 
 
 Who, too, ever heard of an all-powerful favorite's 
 friends (if a favorite ever had friends), deserting the 
 distributor of honors and emoluments because he hap- 
 pened to restore a man to favor ? And how could the 
 marriage of a weak girl to a young fortune-hunter 
 "distract and weaken the King's service," or create an 
 opinion of such breadth, depth, volume and force as 
 to "cast the King back, and make him relapse into 
 those inconveniences which are now well on to be 
 recovered ? " 
 
 Upon hearing of Bacon's refusal to grant the war- 
 rant for restoring his daughter. Coke armed and 
 mounted his son and a band of sturdy servants, whom 
 he inspired with some of his own spirit, and they pur- 
 sued the bone of contention. Lady Hatton had sent 
 their daughter into the country, to be the guest of Sir 
 Edmond Withipole. Here Coke soon arrived; and 
 although he' had a warrant, signed by Secretary Win- 
 wood, as his authority for entering the room and 
 reclaiming his daughter, he relied on the efficacy of 
 muscle and an impromptu battering-ram, with which he 
 broke the door down, and transferring his daughter to 
 a coach, he galloped off with her, surrounded by his 
 posse. 
 
 When the news of the kidnapping reached Lady 
 Hatton's ears, she enlisted "Lord Houghton, Sir Ed- 
 ward Sackville, Sir Rob. Rich and others, with three 
 score of men and pistols," says a news-writer, and gave 
 chase ; but the lady's coach broke down in the high- 
 way. "They met not," says this gossip; "if they had, 
 there had been a notable skirmish; for the Lady 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 113 
 
 Compton was with Mrs. Franch in the coach, and there 
 was Clem Coke, my Lord's fighting son, and they all 
 swore they would die in the place before they would 
 part with her." 
 
 Lady Hatton, finding the fortunes of war against 
 her, now hastened to secure the services of her old 
 rejected lover. She reached Bacon's lodgings at an 
 early hour, when he was enjoying his morning nap. 
 She was permitted to occupy a room adjoining his 
 sleeping-apartment; not, however, until she had prom- 
 ised to restrain her impatience and suffer her once 
 suitor to slumber, and dream, perchance, of his early 
 love. When she was left alone she proceeded to make 
 enough noise to waken the seven sleepers. Bacon, 
 suddenly aroused by this strange and violent disturb- 
 ance, cried aloud for help. His servants rushed into 
 his bedroom. Lady Hatton unceremoniously followed, 
 apologizing to the Lord Keeper by comparing herself 
 to " a cow who had lost her calf." 
 
 Coke's enemy and Coke's wife formed a coalition 
 against him. The ex-Chief Justice was summoned 
 before the Council, on the petition of his enraged 
 spouse, for breaking the laws of England by breaking 
 down Sir Edmond Withipole's inner door. Coke an- 
 swered with counter-charges against his helpmate ; and 
 as for the "riot and force " complained of, this he jus- 
 tified. The Council seized upon the latter proposition, 
 and directed the Attorney-General to file an informa- 
 tion against Sir Edward Coke in the Court of the Star 
 Chamber. This last proceeding was, in all probability, 
 inspired by Bacon, who concurred in all that was done 
 in the premises ; the first act of the Council being the 
 removal of the maiden from the custody of either 
 
114 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 parent for the time being, and assigning her to that o 
 a third person until the conflict about right of posses 
 sion could be settled; the second act being an issui 
 joined with Coke on a legal position assumed by him 
 which was regarded as extravagant as some of the lega 
 positions in the unpurged reports, and therefore calcu 
 lated to excite the animosity of the King. 
 
 Winwood had granted the warrant to Lady Hatton 
 and when his coadjutors on the board drove him to th( 
 wall, he surprised and silenced them with the informa 
 tion that the King was personally interested in th( 
 match which had occupied the attention of England'; 
 Cabinet. This news changed the situation completely 
 The maiden was "sent home to Hatton House, wit! 
 orders that Lady Compton and her son should havf 
 access to win and wear her." 
 
 Bacon now wrote to the King in reference to the 
 match, and endeavored to impress him with the ide; 
 that Winwood and Coke, who had been so active ir 
 favor of it, were not so effective as others ; that he 
 Bacon, in humbling Coke, had not been inspired b] 
 personal fear or ill-will ; third, that he was ready to for 
 ward the match if His Majesty were resolved that i' 
 should go on ; lastly, he endeavors to frighten the Kinj 
 from espousing the match, lest it should disturb the 
 prerogative, lift up the humbled judges, and generallj 
 disturb the state by Coke "coming in with the strengtl: 
 of such an alliance." 
 
 This letter and its disingenuous and flimsy argument: 
 were treated by James as they deserved to be. Before 
 Bacon received the King's answer he again wrote tc 
 Buckingham, not once onlj', but twice. At last he 
 received from the favorite a curt answer. The King'i 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 115 
 
 letter had already dismayed him ; the two quite disor- 
 ganized him. The King, in this correspondence, called 
 him severely to account for having indorsed a man who 
 was unfit to be the Queen's counsel, for the place of an 
 Irish baron. In reply to James, he wrote in a most 
 humble and propitiatory spirit, confessing that his 
 anger "grieved me more than any event that hath 
 fallen out in my life." 
 
 "I know," he continues, "that reprehensions from the 
 best of masters to the best of servants are necessary, and 
 that no chastisement is pleasant for the time, but yet work- 
 
 eth good effects But since Your Majesty bid- 
 
 deth me confide in your art of empire, I have done ; for as 
 the Scripture saith, ' To God all things are possible^ so cer- 
 tainly to wise kings much is possible." 
 
 The King had rated him for disrespect to, and insin- 
 uation against, Buckingham. He proclaims "a parent- 
 like" affection for the favorite, and adds: — 
 
 " I was afraid that the height of his fortune might make 
 him too secure, and (as the proverb is) a looker-on some- 
 times seeth more than a gamester. . . . It is true that 
 in those matters which, by Your Majesty's commandment 
 and reference, came before the table concerning Sir Edward 
 Coke, I was sometimes sharp (it may be too much). But it 
 was with end to have Your Majesty's will performed, or else 
 when he was more peremptory than became him in respect 
 to the honor of the table. It is true, also, that I disliked 
 the riot or violence, whereof we of Your Majesty's Council 
 gave Your Majesty advertisement by our joint letter; and I 
 disliked it the more because he justified it by law, which 
 was his old song." 
 
 After beseeching James to understand that he had 
 not received a letter from the favorite, he says : — 
 
Il6 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 "After I had received, by a former letter of His Lordshif 
 knowledge of his mind, I think Sir Edward Coke himseli 
 the last time he was before the Lords, mought plainly pe 
 ceive an alteration in my carriage. And now that You 
 Majesty hath been pleased to open yourself to me, I shal 
 be willing to further the match by anything that shall b 
 desired of me, or that is in my power." 
 
 In another letter to Buckingham, he says : — 
 
 "I did fear that this alHance would go near to lose m 
 Your Lordship, that I hold so dear, and that was the onl; 
 respect particular to myself that moved me to be as I was 
 till I heard from you." 
 
 Was there ever a more humiliating confession anc 
 surrender of self than are here exhibited.' Brow 
 beating Coke as a law-breaker, and suddenly propitiat 
 ing him as a royal favorite. Telling the King ane 
 Buckingham that the match was dangerous to the state 
 and damaging to the family of Villiers, and thei 
 declaring his anxiety to further it to the end. Jame: 
 answered the last letter to himself, and charged Bacoi 
 with disingenuousness, jealousy of, and ingratitud( 
 towards, Buckingham; justified Coke in retaking hi; 
 daughter : — 
 
 "And," he says, "as for your laying the burden of you 
 opposition upon the whole Council, we meddle not with tha 
 question ; but the opposition we justly find fault with yoi 
 was a refusal to sign a warrant for the father to recover hi 
 child." 
 
 To this Bacon wrote an answer, further explainin 
 his meaning in reference to the insinuation that th 
 favorite's head was in danger of being turned by gooi 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER, 1 17 
 
 fortune, and then waited with great anxiety the return 
 of James and Buckingham to London. Coke and Yel- 
 verton went to meet them, but Bacon had not the 
 nerve, probably. Yelverton, however, wrote him a long 
 account of how matters were. Coke was denouncing 
 both him and Bacon, he says. Buckingham gave him 
 a disagreeably warm reception. Yelverton generously 
 fought Bacon's battle as well as his own ; — 
 
 " Now, my Lord," he adds, "give me leave, out of all my 
 affections that shall ever serve you, to intimate touching 
 yourself: — 
 
 "1st. That every courtier is acquainted that the Earl 
 professeth openly against you as forgetful of his kindness, 
 and unfaithful to him in your love and in your actions. 
 
 "2d. That he returneth the shame upon himself, in not 
 listening to counsel that dissuaded his affection from you, 
 and not to mount you so high, not forbearing in open speech 
 as divers have told me, and this bearer, your gentleman, 
 (hath heard, also), to tax you, as if it were an inveterate cus- 
 tom with you, to be unfaithful to him as you were to the 
 Earls of Essex and Somerset. 
 
 "3d. That is too common in every man's mouth in court, 
 that your greatness shall be abated, and as your tongue hath 
 been as a razor to some, so shall theirs be to you. 
 
 "4th. That there is laid up for you, to make your burden 
 the more grievous, many petitions to His Majesty against 
 you." 
 
 After advising Bacon to meet James at Woodstock, 
 in order to frighten some enemies by his presence, to 
 insist upon the other Lords of the Council being 
 equally blameable for the unpopular action, and to be 
 undismayed, he says, "I beseech Your Lordship to 
 burn this letter." 
 
Il8 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 Bacon should have destroyed a letter inspired by 
 friendship, but whose contents would have endangered 
 the writer if made public. But, fortunately for us, he 
 did not, and it is a valuable witness as to his character 
 and career at this period. It is evident that he had 
 made many enemies ; that his behavior towards Essex 
 was still fresh in the memories of some; that his 
 administration of the Great Seal had given oiTense to 
 some, for it must be to this that the petitions to the 
 King, alluded to above, referred; and that his tongue, 
 strange to say, had become an unruly member. 
 
 While pondering over this epistle, he received a short 
 one from Buckingham, in which the latter says : — 
 
 "My Lord: — I have received so many letters lately from 
 Your Lordship that I cannot answer them severally ; but the 
 ground of them all being only this, that Your Lordship fear- 
 eth I am so incensed against you that I will hearken unto 
 every information that is made unto me ; this one letter may 
 well make answer to them all." 
 
 Then, speaking for the King and himself, he tells 
 Bacon they will hear his defense when they return. 
 
 A drunken fellow, about this time, having been heard 
 to say he would kill the King, Bacon hastened to 
 exhibit his zeal by reporting the same in a letter to 
 James, and also suggesting the appointment of a com- 
 mission to hear the suits and petitions which awaited 
 the King's arrival. 
 
 Buckingham answered, and said the King contemned 
 the drunken fellow's speeches, but desired an examina- 
 tion to be made into the man's mental condition, and 
 that the proposition for the commission could wait his 
 arrival. The favorite further says : — 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 1 19 
 
 " I do fully confess that your offer of submission unto me, 
 and in writing (if so I would have it), battered so the unkind- 
 ness that I Jiad conceived in my lieart for your behavior 
 towards me in my absence, as out of the sparks of my old 
 aifection toward you I went to sound His Majesty's inten- 
 tion how he means to behave himself towards you, specially 
 in any public meeting; where I found on the one part His 
 Majesty so little satisfied with your late answer unto him, 
 which he counted (for I protest I use his own terms,) con- 
 fused and childish; and his rigorous resolution on the other 
 part, so fixed that he would put some public exemplary mark 
 upon you, as I protest the sight of his deep-conceived indig- 
 nation quenched my passion." 
 
 He then says he begged James on his knees not to 
 publicly denounce Bacon, and that the King further 
 promised not to "disable him from the merit of future 
 service." 
 
 How great a reaction this letter must have brought 
 about is apparent from Bacon's answer : — 
 
 " My ever best Lord, now better than yourself. Your 
 Lordship's pen, or rather, pencil, hath portrayed towards me 
 such magnanimity and nobleness and true kindness, as me- 
 thinkest I see the image of some ancient virtue, and not 
 anything of these times. It is the line of my life, and not 
 the lines of my letter, that must express my thankfulness ; 
 wherein, if I fail, then God fail me, and make me as mis- 
 erable as I think myself at this time happy by this review, 
 through His Majesty's singular clemency, and your incom- 
 parable love and favor. God preserve you, prosper you, 
 and reward you for your kindness to 
 " Your raised and infinitely obliged friend and servant, 
 
 " Fr. Bacon, C. S. 
 "Sept. 22, 161 7." 
 
120 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 Thus, in this correspondence have we gone through 
 the most melancholy chapter in Bacon's official life save 
 one, and that is the last. If he honestly believed that 
 this match endangered the King's prerogative and the 
 country's peace by restoring Coke to favor, authority 
 and aggressiveness, he should have stood by his con- 
 victions. If we are to believe his own letters to James, 
 he sincerely held this opinion ; and he claims, in his 
 letters to the King, that his opposition to the match 
 and his severity towards Coke were inspired by devo- 
 tion to the King and to the law, whose breach Coke 
 justified. 
 
 But we cannot accept these as his sole motives, foi 
 he assigned another to the favorite : " I did ever feai 
 this alliance would go near to leese me Your Lord- 
 ship." This inconsistency is incompatible enough with 
 the theory of sincerity. But when we find him protest- 
 ing his willingness to withdraw opposition to the dan- 
 gerous match ; to further it ; find him claiming credit f oi 
 a gentler bearing towards Coke, and apologizing for his 
 "sharp" tongue; find him all anxiety and humility 
 until the favorite relents, and then all submission and 
 gratitude, we see him in the most abject of situations. 
 A great officer of the crown, carrying the Great Seal of 
 England in one hand, while, with the other over his 
 mouth, he bows low at the feet of a favorite, the spirit 
 crushed out of him, his manhood, independence, con- 
 science, all surrendered into the hands of that favorite 
 for the future. Bacon offended Elizabeth but once; 
 and to propitiate her, he dedicated his life to her ser- 
 vice, in the role of an unresisting, unquestioning, obe- 
 dient courtier. For the first and last time he offended 
 James; forgiveness came quickly, and subserviency 
 never ceased. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 121 
 
 Lady Hatton, upon being deserted by Bacon and 
 others who followed his lead, and being opposed by the 
 King, had to yield. Her husband was restored to the 
 Council table ; her daughter was married to Sir John 
 Villiers, and she barely escaped prosecution for the 
 false allegation of a pre-contract of marriage between 
 the Earl of Oxford and that daughter, whose affections 
 were in truth inclined towards Sir Robert Howard, with 
 whom she subsequently eloped, leaving Sir John Vil- 
 liers to reflect upon the impolicy of wooing a woman 
 with such extraordinary instruments as a King and a 
 King's Council. 
 
 Bacon endeavored to remove all recollection of his 
 unpopular course in this affair by renewed diligence in 
 the execution of his office. Buckingham indicated his 
 forgiveness by frequent letters to Lord Keeper and 
 Lord Chancellor Bacon, for this crowning promotion 
 was made at a Sunday feast of the favorite, in Jan- 
 uary, 1618. 
 
 These letters were, in the main, in reference to suits 
 pending before the Lord Chancellor, and commended 
 to his favorable consideration one of the parties in liti- 
 gation. The fact that these interfering epistles of the 
 favorite were qualified with the expression "so far as 
 may stand with justice and equity," has been regarded 
 by the apologists of Bacon as a proof that the influence 
 of Buckingham was not of a dangerous character, and 
 that his appeals to Bacon in behalf of this or that suitor 
 did not disturb the scales of justice. If, however, 
 Bacon were judged by the letter of advice he once 
 wrote to Villiers, at the beginning of his career, where 
 he says, "By no means be you persuaded to interpose 
 yourself either by word or letter, in any cause depend- 
 
122 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 ing in any court of justice," he cannot be excused for 
 receiving more than one such letter from the favorite. 
 And when we have seen Bacon so unmanned and hu- 
 miliated by the favorite's displeasure at a judicial 
 course which Bacon protested to the King was both 
 legal and patriotic, yet admitted to the favorite was 
 inspired by the fear of losing his Lordship ; when we 
 see him going back in his tracks to please both James 
 and Buckingham, we have evidence from his own acts 
 and words that his judicial opinion and conduct were sub- 
 ordinated to the favors and smiles of these arcades ambo. 
 Therefore, to say that the wish of the favorite did 
 not affect his impartiality, is to ignore the existence of 
 the frailty which he had already exhibited. Nor is the 
 case made stronger for Bacon by admitting that in the 
 suits disgraced by the favorite's interference no "unjust 
 decree " was passed. If the favorite's friends had the 
 right of the matter, as between Buckingham and Bacon, 
 these letters were just as disgraceful to both as if they 
 had the wrong of the matter. It is enough to know 
 that the man who was all-powerful with the King ; whose 
 influence had raised Bacon to the position he occu- 
 pied ; whose influence could degrade him ; a man who 
 notoriously sold this influence to the highest bidder, 
 commended a litigant to his obligee's favorable consid- 
 eration, and that this obliged judicial officer continued 
 to receive promotion at the favorite's hands. For after 
 Bacon's offer of "submission" to Buckingham, and 
 expressed willingness to put it "in writing," as his 
 Lordship said in a letter above quoted, he grew in 
 favor with the now marquis, and through his instru- 
 mentality, after having been made Lord Chancellor, 
 in July, 1617, was created Baron Verulam of Verulam. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 1 23 
 
 The year that calendared this advancement will ever 
 be remembered as that in which Sir Walter Raleigh 
 was brought to the block in manner disgraceful to all 
 concerned. For fifteen years this brave and brilliant 
 Englishman had been confined in the Tower of London, 
 Although convicted of treason, his sentence had been 
 suspended. 
 
 His busy mind could not remain idle, even in impris- 
 onment, and it was there that he wrote not only his 
 "History of the World," but several brief contributions 
 to the literature of the day. 
 
 Keeping up his interest in all that related to the new 
 world, and not being cut off entirely from connection 
 with kindred and adventurous spirits, who looked to 
 that quarter for fame and fortune, he made more than 
 one proposition to be allowed to fit out an expedition 
 in search of gold mines, which he alleged were discov- 
 erable. 
 
 He first proposed to lead the expedition in person. 
 This was rejected, as involving his liberty. The next 
 was that he was to send the expedition under another, 
 which, if successful, should secure him his freedom. 
 These terms would seem to indicate that he had an 
 honest belief in the probable success of his scheme. 
 The terms of the last proposition were that he should, 
 in person, seek the mine of gold ; and that it was not 
 near any Spanish settlement. This was accepted ; and 
 in 1616 his commission was signed, about ten years 
 after he had originally presented the plan. 
 
 The King knew that Raleigh belonged to that gen- 
 eration of Englishmen who looked upon the Spaniards 
 as their personal, political, religious and national ene- 
 mies. He was as anxious to prolong peace with Spain 
 
124 FRANCIS BACON J 
 
 as his subjects and some of his advisers were to hasten 
 war with that nation. He was suspicious of Raleigh's 
 temperament and disposition; and the Spanish envoy 
 was suspicious of Raleigh's good faith, alleging that the 
 mine was a pretext for a practical attack on some 
 colonial settlement of his country. So Sir Walter was 
 required to give security that he would not disturb a 
 hair of a Spaniard's head, and was given to understand 
 that if he did he would lose his own head. Under such 
 restrictions and encouraging conditions he went forth 
 to gather gold for himself and his royal master. It was 
 generally understood that he had been supplied with ore 
 from a certain mine, which he had assayed while in the 
 Tower; and that this mine was located somewhere in the 
 neighborhood of a Spanish settlement on the Orinoco, 
 appears from his instructions to one of his captains. 
 
 He reached his destination ; sent some of his follow- 
 ers to prospect ; they found themselves front to front 
 with a Spanish force; an engagement ensued; the 
 enemy were driven into their town, then driven out of 
 it, and it was burned. Between the Englishmen and 
 the alleged mine were the Spaniards, who had retreated 
 to the woods. To advance eight miles with these foes 
 hanging about them was not deemed advisable ; so they 
 returned to their fleet, and the fleet returned home. 
 
 There Gondomar stood crying for vengeance, and 
 James did not delay in accommodating him any further 
 than the embarrassing surroundings necessitated. For 
 how to judicially cut off Raleigh's head as quickly as 
 possible was a problem for the lawyers to solve. 
 
 Lord Chancellor Bacon convened the judges at York 
 House, his residence. After consultation they agreed 
 that Raleigh was out of the pale of prosecution, for the 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. J2S 
 
 law had been exhausted in his case sixteen years back, 
 when he had been convicted of treason. They held : — 
 
 " That Sir Walter Raleigh, having been attainted of high 
 treason, which is the highest and last work of the law, he 
 cannot be drawn in question judicially for any crime or 
 offense since committed." 
 
 They recommended : — 
 
 " Either that a warrant should be immediately sent to the 
 Lieutenant of the Tower for his immediate execution under 
 the former sentence, or that he should be brought before the 
 Council and principal judges, some of the nobility and gen- 
 tlemen of quality being admitted to be present, and there 
 being a recital of all his recent offenses, and then he being 
 heard and withdrawn — without any fresh sentence, the Lords 
 of the Council and judges should give their advice openly, 
 whether, in respect of these offenses, the King might not, 
 with justice and honor, give warrant for his execution on his 
 attainder." 
 
 Execution of the sentence sixteen years old was 
 awarded ; and, to pacify Spain, more than to vindicate 
 the law, the scholar, sailor and soldier, the patriot of 
 one reign and the ornament of two, was beheaded. 
 His behavior on the scaffold was that of a Christian 
 philosopher. Profane history has no parallel; and 
 never died an Englishman so eloquently, if we consider 
 either the pity and indignation which he awakened 
 among his contemporaries, or the opinions of historians 
 and biographers from that time to this. 
 
 Bacon shared the unpopularity of this execution as 
 he shared that attendant upon the execution of Essex, 
 and he was again employed in writing the " Declara- 
 tion," or defense, which was to excuse the inexcusable. 
 
126 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 The pen which performed this office turned, with 
 comprehensive facility, to figuring in pounds, shillings 
 and pence, and the preparation of a statement of the 
 King's finances, as a New Year's gift to James, which, 
 though not completed in time for presentation on that 
 day, was promised by a letter dated January 2, 1618. 
 This letter presents a glowing picture of a happy King 
 and people, poetical in its conception and execution, 
 but having one dark stroke of the pencil across its 
 face, — the happy people would not lend or give the 
 good King enough money to squander in extravagance, 
 which added nothing to the "true greatness of Britain." 
 
 The subsequent pages in Bacon's official life are not 
 of much interest until we reach the last, which is not 
 far removed. The prosecution of the Earl of Suffolk 
 for trafficking with the public money ; the prosecution 
 of Attorney-General Yelverton, at the instigation of 
 Buckingham ; and the prosecution of Dutch merchants 
 for the exportation of bullion, were the prominent 
 causes in which he appeared. When Bacon was tempo- 
 rarily out of favor, waiting with fear and trembling the 
 coming of the King and favorite from Scotland, Yelver- 
 ton went forth to face the anger of both, and exhibited, 
 as we have seen, a disinterested care of Bacon, fore- 
 warning and forearming him by the friendly letter 
 which has already been quoted. But it seems that this 
 friendship had come to an end. " Mr. Attorney grow- 
 eth pretty pert with me of late," writes the Lord Chan- 
 cellor to the favorite. Yelverton was prosecuted, as 
 Lord Campbell puts it, "on the pretext of having intro- 
 duced into a charter, granted the city of London, 
 certain clauses alleged not to be agreeable to the 
 King's warrant, and derogatory to his honor," but in 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 127 
 
 fact, because to Bacon and Buckingham he "gave great 
 offense by refusing to pass some illegal patents." 
 Bacon reported to Buckingham, with some pride, the 
 vigor he displayed in the Star Chamber on this occa- 
 sion: — 
 
 "I have almost killed myself," he writes, "by sitting 
 almost eight hours. How I stirred the court I leave to 
 others to speak. I would not for anything, but he had made 
 his defense, for many deep parts of the charge were deeper 
 printed by the defense." 
 
 This is small enough glorification over the fall of a 
 man J but let us see what sentimental capital Bacon 
 made out of the opportunity. A memorandum of what 
 he was to say in passing sentence on Yelverton fastens 
 hypocrisy of the worst dye upon him, when contrasted 
 with his unsympathetic report to Buckingham : — 
 
 " Sorry for the person, being a gentleman I lived with in 
 Gray's Inn, served with him when I was attorney, joined 
 with him in many services, and one that ever gave me more 
 attributes in public than I deserved ; and, besides, a man of 
 very good parts, which, with me, is friendship at first sight, 
 much more, joined with so ancient an acquaintance. But, 
 as judge, hold the ofiense very great, etc." 
 
 Chuckling with Buckingham over Yelverton's defense, 
 congratulating himself that it unfavorably impressed 
 the triers, then, after conviction, pretending sorrow and 
 magnanimity in passing the sentence which followed. 
 But all through this inglorious career, while engaged in 
 seeking office, in executing office ; while leader in the 
 House of Commons, and in all capacities vigorously 
 performing the legitimate and illegitimate tasks assigned 
 
i;38 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 him J while flattering a pedantic and conceited King, 
 fawning around a passionate and corrupt favorite, tak- 
 ing sides in a family quarrel, and then deserting the 
 cause he had espoused ; while thus disgracefully occu- 
 pied in public life, he, in private life, was nobly 
 employed upon the greatest work of his pen. And 
 now he gave to the world his "Novum Organum." 
 
 The King, unworthy of its dedication, made a proper 
 acknowledgment of the honor in a letter to Bacon. 
 Coke wrote on the fly-leaf of the copy which Bacon was 
 weak enough to give him, the following distich, exhib- 
 iting temper as bad as his poetry: — 
 
 " It deserveth not to be read in schools, 
 But to be freighted in the Ship of Fooles." 
 
 The scholars, at home and abroad, who had been 
 waiting patiently for its publication, received it with 
 warm and flattering appreciation. To them Bacon was 
 a philosopher; and in this character they knew him, 
 judged him, and revered him. 
 
PART III. 
 
 FROM PUBLICATION OF "NOVUM ORGANUM," OCT. 12, 
 1620, TO DEATH OF BACON, APRIL 10, 1 62 6. 
 
 Place, power, fortune and fame, — all now seemed to 
 be Bacon's. As Lord Chancellor and Lord Verulam, 
 as the first lawyer, councillor and scholar in England, 
 he celebrated his sixtieth birthday. Friends, disciples, 
 poets and flatterers gathered around him at York 
 House. Everything was on an extravagant and mag- 
 nificent scale. And Ben Jonson was there to read an 
 ode which the occasion inspired. 
 
 But in the midst of all this sunshine a fatal storm 
 was brewing. The King's son-in-law, depending on 
 English sjrmpathy and Protestant enthusiasm, had 
 accepted the crown of Bohemia. Instead of yielding 
 to public sentiment and improving the opportunity of 
 becoming the arbiter of Europe's fate, achieving popu- 
 larity and glory by becoming the champion of Prot- 
 estantism, James assumed the role of judge and 
 mediator. While he was playing at King-craft, the 
 Spaniards fooled him, and the Catholic coalition made 
 his son-in-law a princely vagabond. Then it was that 
 the duped King yielded to English and Protestant 
 indignation, and summoned parliament to supply sinews- 
 
130 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 for the war, in behalf of the husband of their King's 
 daughter ; and they were of course called upon, at the 
 same time, to relieve the necessities of James, multiplied 
 by extravagance and mismanagement. 
 
 On the 30th of January, 1620, the two houses got 
 earnestly at work. There were great arrears for parlia- 
 mentary settlement. The people had for years been 
 groaning under impositions. The popular branch of 
 parliament indicated a kindly disposition toward the 
 King, but with it a firm determination to redress the 
 growing grievances. Coke was a member of the lower 
 house. He had retired from the Council table because 
 the arena was too limited ; his power for independent 
 action and leadership was cramped; and the dissatis- 
 fied ex-Chief Justice sought contentment in a wider 
 field. Contentment with Coke meant a situation where 
 he could successfully propose something disagreeable to 
 somebody; or, in lieu of this, oppose anything agreeable 
 to everybody who had given him offense. 
 
 His role now was that of a patriot, and his first 
 motion was for the appointment of a committee to 
 investigate the grievance of monopolies. Since the 
 death of Elizabeth these wrongs had been multiplied in 
 number and abused in execution. No one appreciated 
 the situation better than Bacon; and he had, in the 
 month of November, urged the favorite to anticipate 
 parliamentary action by reform in this particular, having 
 special reference to the patents of Sir Giles Mompesson 
 and Sir Francis Mitchell, the "Sir Giles Overreach" 
 and "Justice Greedy" of Massinger's great drama. 
 These patents conferred on them respectively the 
 licensing of taverns and the exclusive manufacture of 
 gold and silver lace. The outrages and frauds of which 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 131 
 
 both were guilty in making the most of their monop- 
 olies, so inflamed the public mind that it forced James 
 to refer the complaints to Lord Keeper Bacon. Mom- 
 pesson, alias "Overreach," accompanied the moralist, 
 philosopher, lawyer and statesman to Kew, where 
 Bacon, in society which we would suppose the least 
 congenial, seeking recreation, combined business with 
 pleasure, and reported "that though there were some 
 things he would set by, he found some things he liked 
 very well ; " and in respect to the patent of Mitchell, 
 alias "Greedy," he endorsed its legality.* 
 
 This was in the year 1617. Three years later the 
 Committee of the House of Commons reported both 
 patents to be outrageously oppressive on the people. 
 The patentees were proceeded against vigorously and 
 successfully. Sir Edward Villiers, half-brother of the 
 favorite, was interested in the ale-house patent; and 
 in order to save him from prosecution and punishment, 
 an honorable retirement beyond the seas in a diplo- 
 matic capacity was thought of by the Dean of West- 
 minster, who was the first to suggest foreign service as 
 the Botany Bay of dishonest servants at home. 
 
 Having worked this mischief to the favorite's favor- 
 ite, the next movement in the house was an inquiry 
 into the abuses of Courts of Justice. The investigation 
 exposed channels of corruption centering in the Court 
 of Chancery, and exhibited the Lord Chancellor as the 
 recipient of gifts of money from first one party litigant, 
 then another; and lastly, even from both. Bacon's 
 want of suspicion was akin to innocence, or his moral 
 sensibilities were so blunted that, as is often the case, 
 he ceased to see things through the same moral atmos- 
 phere through which lookers-on saw them. 
 
 •Lord Campbell's Life. 383. 
 
13? FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 When Christopher Aubrey's relation to the committee 
 of how he had presented the Lord Chancellor with a 
 sum of money to despatch a suit reached Bacon's ears, 
 he wrote to Buckingham: — 
 
 " I know I have clean hands and a clean heart, and I hope 
 a clean house for friends and servants. But Job himself, or 
 whosoever was the justest judge, by such hunting for mat- 
 ters against him as hath been used against me, may for a 
 time seem foul, specially in a time when greatness is the 
 mark and accusation is the game. And if this is to be a 
 Chancellor, I think 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 miseries one way 
 or other." 
 
 The inference from this letter is that he was 
 acquainted with the activity of Coke and others, and 
 was keenly affected by their pointed attack, but relied 
 on the King and favorite to protect him by "putting 
 an end to these miseries." On the heel of Aubrey's 
 case came another charge, also involving a gift of 
 money. Now followed the report of the committee, 
 charging corruption to the account of the Lord Chan- 
 cellor. As the proceeding ripened, Bacon became too 
 ill to attend the session of the House of Lords, and on 
 March 19, 1620, he addressed a letter to that body, 
 explaining and excusing his absence: — 
 
 "My very good Lords: — I humbly pray Your Lord- 
 ships all to make a favorable and true construction of my 
 absence. It is no feigning nor fainting, but sickness both 
 of my heart and of my back, though joined with that comfort 
 of mind that persuadeth me that I am not far from heaven, 
 whereof I feel the first fruits ; and because, whether I live or 
 die, I would be glad to preserve my honor and fame, as far 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 133 
 
 as I am worthy, hearing that some complaints of base bribing 
 are come before Your Lordships, my requests unto Your 
 Lordships are: First, that you will maintain me in your 
 good opinion, without prejudice, until my cause be heard ; 
 secondly, that in regard I have sequestered my mind at this 
 time in great part from worldly matters, thinking of my 
 account and answer in a higher court, Your Lordships would 
 give me some convenient time, according to the course of 
 other courts, to advise with my counsel, and to make my 
 answer; wherein, nevertheless, my counsel's part will be 
 the least, for I shall not, by the grace of God, trick up an 
 innocency with cavillations, but plainly and ingenuously (as 
 Your Lordships know my manner is) declare what I know 
 or remember ; thirdly, that according to the course of jus- 
 tice, I may be allowed to except to the witnesses brought 
 against me, and to move questions to Your Lordships for 
 their cross-examination, and likewise to produce my own 
 witnesses for discovery of the truth ; and lastly, if there 
 come any more petitions of like nature, that Your Lordships 
 would be pleased not to take any prejudice or apprehension 
 of any number or muster of them, especially against a judge 
 that makes two thousand decrees and orders in a year (not 
 to speak of the courses that have been taken in hunting out 
 complaints against me); but that I may answer them, ac- 
 cording to the rules of justice, severally and respectively. 
 These requests, I hope, appear to Your Lordships no other 
 than just. And so, thinking myself happy to have so noble 
 peers and reverend prelates to discern of my cause, and 
 desiring no privilege of greatness for subterfuge of guilti- 
 ness, but meaning, as I said, to deal fairly and plainly with 
 Your Lordships, and to put myself upon your honors and 
 favors, I pray God to bless your counsels and your per- 
 sons, and rest 
 
 " Your Lordships' humble servant, 
 
 " Fr. St. Alban. 
 " 19th March, 1620." 
 
134 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 This letter, which every reader will dissect for him- 
 self, presents Bacon as either a man ill unto death, or 
 as endeavoring to awaken sympathy by representing 
 himself in this condition, and to secure for his asser- 
 tions the credibility due a dying declaration. 
 
 Yet, after the representation of himself and mind as 
 sequestered from worldly matters, dwelling upon a 
 speedy summons to a higher court, we find him 
 asking time for the preparation of a defense which 
 necessarily contemplated a considerable prolongation 
 of life. And the demand, in its details, shows the 
 possession of a clear head and judgment, a thorough 
 appreciation of the situation and of his legal rights in 
 the premises. Therefore, the least that can be said 
 about the letter is, that it is disingenuous. The 
 endorsement of the court which was to try his cause 
 may have been sincerely made. 
 
 Although James was desirous of appointing a special 
 tribunal for the occasion, Buckingham presented this 
 letter to the Lords, and supplemented it with a report 
 that he had visited the Lord Chancellor twice, at the 
 instance of the King; that he found him at first "very 
 sick and heavy," but at the second visit much cheered 
 by the assurance that the House of Lords was to be 
 his judge and jury. A verbal answer to this letter was 
 sent, the substance of which was that they "intended 
 to proceed in the cause according to the right rule of 
 justice; and they shall be glad if his Lordship shall 
 clear his honor therein; to which end they pray his 
 Lordship to provide for his defense." 
 
 The King and favorite were, it is asserted, now 
 acting under the advice of Williams, Dean of Win- 
 chester, who was soon to be made Lord Chancellor. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 135 
 
 He had undertaken to guide their craft through the 
 shoals, and his method was to lighten it by throwing, 
 occasionally, one of the crew overboard. There was a 
 disposition on the part of James and his favorite to 
 save Bacon ; but when it was evident that any exertion 
 in his favor involved angering the two Houses, they 
 deserted him and left him to his fate. The one effort 
 that the King made was to propose a commission to 
 examine into the charges ; but he did not press it when 
 it became apparent that both Houses were too earnest 
 in the prosecution to confide it to other hands. 
 
 The committees proceeded to examine witnesses, one 
 of the Learned Counsel being in attendance to conduct 
 the cause in a legal channel. It does not appear that 
 Bacon was present, or represented by counsel; nor 
 does it appear that the Lords acted upon his request 
 for this privilege, or that he persisted in it, or presented 
 himself for admission. 
 
 The 24th of March being the anniversary of the 
 King's accession, the busy wheels of investigation were 
 stopped. On the 25 th, Bacon wrote to Buckingham, 
 and enclosed a letter to the King : — 
 
 "My very good Lord: — Yesterday, I know, was no 
 day; now I hope I shall hear from Your Lordship, who are 
 my anchor in these floods. Meanwhile, to ease my heart a 
 little, I have written to His Majesty the enclosed, which I 
 pray Your Lordship to read advisedly, and to deliver it, or 
 not to deliver it, as you think best. God ever prosper Your 
 Lordship. 
 
 "Yours ever what I am, 
 
 " Fr. St. Alban, Cauc. 
 
 "March 25, 1621." 
 
136 FRANCIS BACON J 
 
 To the King he said: — 
 
 " It may please Your Most Excellent Majesty, time 
 hath been when I have brought unto you gemitum columbcB 
 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 comen 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. 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 used 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 
 that honesty was turned into honor. 
 
 " For the Upper House, even in those days before these 
 troubles, they seemed as to take me into their arms, finding 
 in me ingenuity, which they took to be the true, straight line 
 of nobleness, without crooks or angles. 
 
 "And for the briberies and gifts wherewith I am charged, 
 when the books of hearts 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; howso- 
 ever I 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 
 my heart speaketh to me, in excusing, extenuating, or ingen- 
 uous confession, praying to God to give me the grace to 
 see to the bottom of my faults, and that no hardness of heart 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. I37 
 
 do steal upon me, under show of more neatness of conscience 
 than is cause. 
 
 " But not to trouble Your IVIajesty longer, craving pardon 
 for this long mourning letter; tliat which I thirst after as the 
 hart after the streams, is that I may know, by the matchless 
 friend that presenteth to you this letter. Your Majesty's 
 heart (which is an abyssus of goodness, as I am an abyssus 
 of misery) toward me. I have been ever your man, and 
 counted myself but an usufructuary of myself, the property 
 being yours. And now, malting myself an oblation, to do 
 with me as may best conduce to the honor of your justice, 
 the honor of your mercy, and the use of your service, resting 
 as clay in Your Majesty's gracious hands, 
 
 "Fr. St. Alban, Cauc. 
 
 "March 25, 1621." 
 
 Of this letter it will be seen that the important pas- 
 sages are Bacon's denial of a "depraved habit of taking 
 rewards to pervert justice ; " an admission that lie 
 might "be frail and partake of the abuses of the 
 times ; " and a disposition to hope in and rely upon 
 the mercy of the King. But on the next day James 
 addressed the House of Lords as the "Highest Court 
 of Justice," expressed himself ready to execute their 
 sentence, and promised, of his own will, to revoke the 
 inns, ale-houses, and gold and silver thread patents. 
 Never had he exhibited such a spirit of acquiescence, 
 such an obliging disposition; and the parliament was 
 both gratified and encouraged to proceed with the work 
 in hand. 
 
 Bacon retired to the country, where Prince Charles, 
 returning from hunting, "espied a coach, attended with 
 a goodly troop of horsemen, who, it seems, were gath- 
 ered together to wait upon the Chancellor to his house 
 at Gorhambury, at the time of his declension. At 
 
138 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 which the Prince smiled : " Well, do we what we can," 
 said he, "this man scorns to go out like a snuff." 
 
 This anecdote seems to be generally accepted as 
 authentic by Bacon's biographers; but Mr. Spedding 
 is the only one who assigns the event to this particular 
 time. The moral it points is that either the Lord 
 Chancellor's pride of place and love of show were not 
 chastened by the serious situation of his affairs, or he 
 did not fully appreciate that situation, or he retained a 
 blind confidence in the disposition and power of the 
 King to interpose in his behalf. Yet not the least 
 inconsistency of this problematical character is exhib- 
 ited by a comparison between this story and the solem- 
 nity of the will which he executed about this time, 
 April 10, 1621, or of the "prayer, or psalm," which he 
 then wrote. The one he thus begins : — 
 
 " I bequeathe my soul to God above, by the oblation of my 
 Saviour. 
 
 " My body to be buried obscurely. 
 
 " My name to next ages and foreign nations." 
 
 The other he thus ends : — 
 
 " And now, when I have thought most of place and honor, 
 Thy hand is heavy upon me, and hath humbled me accord- 
 ing to Thy loving-kindness. . . . Besides my innumer- 
 able sins, I confess before Thee that I am a 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 exchang- 
 ers, where it might have made best profit, but misspent it 
 in things for which I was least fit; so as I may truly 
 say my soul hath been a stranger in the course of my 
 pilgrimage." 
 
 Too late did he now acknowledge to himself and his 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. I39 
 
 God that his great gifts had indeed been misused, those 
 talents buried in the mire of a low ambition for political 
 place and power which should have been entirely 
 absorbed in glorifying God and advancing his fellow- 
 man. 
 
 While Bacon remained apparently inactive, his pros- 
 ecutors were busy in examining new witnesses upon 
 new accusations, which were brought to the front when 
 the doors were thrown open. Before he even decided 
 upon a course of conduct, he deemed it essential to 
 have a private interview with the King. A remarkable 
 change had taken place in the behavior of James 
 toward parliamentary reformers. The arrogant pedant 
 had grown almost obsequiously considerate of their 
 opinions and wishes. He would not consent to an 
 interview with Bacon until he had consulted the Lords 
 who were of his Council. In the meantime the Lord 
 Chancellor prepared the following notes of the matters 
 to which he desired to call the King's attention: — 
 
 " There be three degrees or cases of bribery charged or 
 supposed in a judge ; — 
 
 "I. The first, of bargain or contract for reward to pre- 
 vent justice, pendenU lite. 
 
 "2. The second, when the judge conceives the cause to 
 be at an end by the information of the party, or otherwise, 
 and useth not such as he ought to inquire of it. 
 
 "3. And the third, when the cause is really ended, and it 
 is sine fraude, without relation to any precedent promise. 
 
 " Now if I might see the particulars of my charge, I should 
 deal plainly with Your Majesty, in whether of these degrees 
 every particular case falls. 
 
 " But for the first of them, I take myself to be as innocent 
 as any born upon St. Innocent's Day, in my heart. 
 
I40 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 " For the second, I doubt in some particulars I may be 
 
 faulty. 
 
 "And for the last, I conceived it to be no fault; but therein 
 I desire to be better informed, that I may be twice peni- 
 tent, — once for the fact, and again for the error; for I had 
 rather be a briber than a defender of bribes. 
 
 "I must likewise confess to Your Majesty that at New 
 Year's tides, and likewise at my first coming in (which was, 
 as it were, my wedding), I did not so precisely as perhaps I 
 ought examine whether those that presented me had causes 
 before me, yea or no. 
 
 "And this is simply all that I can say for the present con- 
 cerning my charge, until I may receive it more particularly. 
 And all this, while I do not fly to that as to say that these 
 things are vitia temporis and not vitia hominis. For my 
 fortune, summa summarutn with me is, that I may not be 
 made altogether unprofitable to do Your Majesty service or 
 honor. If Your Majesty continue me as I am, I hope I shall 
 be a new man, and shall reform things out of feehng, more 
 than another can do out of example. If I cast part of my 
 burden I shall be more strong and delivrd to bear the rest. 
 And to tell Your Majesty what my thoughts run upon, I 
 think of writing a story of England, and of re-compiling of 
 your laws into a better digest. But, to conclude, I most 
 humbly pray Your Majesty's direction and advice. For as 
 Your Majesty hath used to give me the attribute of care of 
 your business, so I must now cast the care of myself upon 
 God and you." 
 
 The tone of this paper evinces the remarkable elas- 
 ticity of spirit which characterized Bacon. We have 
 seen how disappointment, or threatened disgrace, 
 plunged him into the depth of dejection ; how often he 
 resolved and threatened to retire into privacy and ded- 
 icate himself to the pursuits of "a sorry book-maker;" 
 and how sudden was the reaction, the recovery of light- 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 141 
 
 heartedness, and the return to the arena of active 
 life. 
 
 When the petition of Aubrey was presented to the 
 House of Commons, Bacon's first letter to Buckingham 
 opened with: "Your Lordship spoke of purgatory. I 
 am now in it, but my mind is calm." But was it calm ? 
 Hardly; for he adds: — 
 
 "And if this be to be a Chancellor, I think 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 miseries one way or other." 
 
 When addidonal accusations were brought against 
 him he became ill, and apologized to the Lords for his 
 non-attendance by a letter whose pitiful beginning pre- 
 sented him as contemplating speedy death. In his 
 next letter to Buckingham he calls the favorite his 
 "anchor in these floods" which threatened to over- 
 whelm him. He then presents himself to the King in 
 the plaintive and helpless role of a sighing dove, who 
 had expected to be " carried a higher flight." Shortly 
 after these sad epistles he is seen in pomp at his 
 country retreat. Then follow his sad will and solemn 
 prayer, — the one confiding his fame to posterity and 
 strangers, who might forget, if not forgive, the Lord 
 Chancellor when conversing with the philosopher; the 
 other confiding his penitential soul to the mercy of his 
 Maker. And lastly, his notes of his proposed interview 
 with the King exhibit the cool, calm lawyer discussing 
 the legal points of the case; the unsuspicious frank- 
 ness of a faithful servant in private conversation with 
 a presumably kindly-disposed king. 
 
 But the remarkable features of these notes are those 
 
143 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 which indicate that Bacon had no idea that the most 
 serious outcome of the investigation would deprive him 
 of the political capacity to hold office ; and the only 
 evidence that a doubt troubled him is that he offers 
 inducements to the King to interpose his prerogative, 
 should the worst come to the worst. He says: "If 
 Your Majesty continue me as I am," that is, as Lord 
 Chancellor, or one of the Council, " I shall be reformed," 
 he adds in substance, " into a reformer ; my past moral 
 weakness shall supply future moral strength, and then 
 I will write you a history of England, and re-compile 
 your laws." It is a pitiful picture, — this blind trust in 
 James, and this appeal for continuation in office. 
 
 Whether it moved the King for the moment to 
 change his posture and shield the too subservient cour- 
 tier, whom he and his favorite had contributed to place 
 in this melancholy situation, is not known. But after 
 the painful interview was over James reported to the 
 Lords, through the Lord Treasurer, that the Lord 
 Chancellor desired the particulars of the charges ; that 
 where he could refute them he would, and where he 
 could not he would ingenuously confess and put himself 
 on their mercy. And the King further gave the Lords 
 to understand that he had declined to interfere in 
 Bacon's behalf. 
 
 It would require some time and labor to furnish the 
 Lord Chancellor with the particulars he desired, so 
 they set about the preparation of those already exam- 
 ined and included in the allegations to be presented, 
 at the same time provided for receiving other com- 
 plaints against Bacon, and examining the witnesses 
 produced to sustain them, for " the floods " were being 
 swollen by many streams. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 143 
 
 These things took place about the 19th of April, 
 162 1, and on the 20th Bacon wrote the following letter 
 to the King: — 
 
 "It may please Your Most Excellent Majesty, I think 
 myself infinitely bounden to Your Majesty for vouchsafing 
 me access to Your Royal Person, and to touch the hem of 
 your garment. I see Your Majesty imitateth Him that 
 would not break the broken reed nor quench the smoking 
 flax. And as Your Majesty imitateth Christ, so I hope, 
 assuredly, my Lords of the Upper House will imitate you; 
 and unto Your Majesty's grace and mercy, and next to my 
 Lords, I recommend myself. 
 
 " It is not possible, nor it were not safe, for me to answer 
 particulars till I have my charge, which, when I shall receive, 
 I shall, without fig-leaves or disguise, excuse what I can 
 excuse, extenuate what I can extenuate, and ingenuously 
 confess what I can neither clear nor extenuate. And if 
 there be anything which I mought conceive to be no offense, 
 and yet is, I desire to be informed, that I may be twice pen- 
 itent, — once for my fault, and the second time for my error. 
 And so submitting aU that I am to Your Majesty's grace, I 
 rest, — 
 
 "20th April, 1621." 
 
 The latter part of this letter is substantially what 
 Bacon had already said to the King, and which had 
 been reported to the Lords, together with the assurance 
 that James would not interpose. The first part, with 
 its grateful humility, on being permitted to touch the 
 hem of James' garment, its profane comparison, and its 
 recommendation of himself to the mercy of King and 
 Lords, is somewhat inconsistent with his reiterated 
 demand of particulars, since there are, side by side, an 
 apparent abandonment of defense, and a determination 
 
144 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 to answer, and justify or excuse, where either course 
 would be available. 
 
 On the day following he again wrote to the King : — 
 
 " It may please Your Majesty, it hath pleased God for 
 these three days past to visit me with such extremity of 
 headache upon the hinder part of ray head, fixed in one 
 place, that I thought verily it had been some imposthuma- 
 tion. And then the little physic that I have told me that 
 either it must grow to a congealation, and so to a lethargy, 
 or to break, and so to a mortal fever or sudden death, which 
 apprehension, and chiefly the anguish of the pain, made me 
 unable to think of any business. But now that the pain 
 itself is assuaged to be tolerable, I resume the care of my 
 business, and therein prostrate myself again, by my letter, 
 at Your Majesty's feet. 
 
 "Your Majesty can bear me witness that at my last so 
 comfortable access, I did not so much as move Your Maj- 
 esty, by your absolute power of pardon, or otherwise, to take 
 my cause into your hands, and interpose between the sen- 
 tence of the House; and according to mine own desire. 
 Your Majesty left it to the sentence of the House, and so 
 was reported by the Lord Treasurer. 
 
 " But now, if not per omnipotentiam, as the divines speak, 
 but per potestatem suaviter disponenteni. Your Majesty will 
 graciously save me from a sentence, with the good liking of 
 the House, and that cup may pass from me ; it is the utmost 
 of my desires. 
 
 "This I move with the more belief, because I assure 
 myself that if it be reformation that be sought, the very 
 taking away the Seal, upon my general submission, will be 
 as much an example for these four hundred years as any 
 furder severity. 
 
 "The means of this I most humbly leave unto Your 
 Majesty. But surely I conceive that Your Majesty opening 
 yourself in this kind to the Lords Counsellors, and a motion 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 145 
 
 from the Prince after my submission, and my Lord Marquis 
 using his interest with his friends in the House, may effect 
 the sparing of a sentence, I making my humble suit to the 
 House for that purpose, joined with the delivery of the Seal 
 into Your IVIajesty's hands. 
 
 "This is the last suit 1 shall make to Your Majesty in this 
 business, prostrating myself at your mercy-seat, after fifteen 
 years of service, wherein I have served Your Majesty in my 
 poor endeavors with an entire heart, and as I presumed to 
 say unto Your Majesty, am still a virgin for matters that 
 concern your person and crown; and now, only craving 
 that after eight steps of honor, I be not precipitated alto- 
 gether. 
 
 "But because he that hath taken bribes is apt to give 
 bribes, I will go furder and present Your Majesty with a 
 bribe. For if Your Majesty give me peace and leisure, and 
 God give me life, I will present Your Majesty with a good 
 history of England and a better digest of your laws. And 
 so concluding with my prayers, I rest, 
 
 "Your Majesty's afflicted 
 
 "but ever devoted servant, 
 
 "Fr. St. Alban, Cauc. 
 
 "2ist April, 1621." 
 
 Heretofore we have found Bacon vibrating between 
 a demand for particulars of the charges against him 
 and a disposition to rely upon the mercy of King and 
 Lords. A characteristic indecision seems to have pre- 
 vented him from settling upon any definite course ; and 
 although yesterday exhibited him as contemplating a 
 defense, to-day he presents himself before the mercy- 
 seat. Is this letter to the King the letter of an inno- 
 cent man? Would a guiltless Lord Chancellor have, 
 by implication, admitted a single charge of bribery, and 
 been content to surrender character and Great Seal 
 without a struggle, upon a compromise which secured 
 
146 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 him the surplus of honors and possessions ? The con- 
 ditions Bacon offered were the retention of his seat in 
 the Council and House of Lords, security against fine 
 and imprisonment, and the other probable incidents to 
 conviction and sentence. 
 
 His argument that his frailty and this punishment 
 would be a warning for four hundred years to come 
 was sound, for does his name not now serve to point a 
 moral ? His appeal to the King's gratitude was based 
 upon fact, for he had been only too faithful to the 
 "person and crown" of James. Was he a coward, 
 ■ whose very faculties had been paralyzed by fear? Had 
 his devotion to the Court been such as to alienate his 
 fellow-countrymen and fellow-Lords ? It does not 
 appear that he had any warm defender or advocate 
 among his peers. He confesses that his sole depend- 
 ence are the King, Buckingham and Prince Charles; 
 and how inexplicable is his playful allusion to bribing 
 the King with future service of his pen, — an offer 
 which we have seen him make seriously in his notes 
 touching his speech at the interview, notes which have 
 already been quoted. All that we know is that on the 
 20th he reiterated his demand for the indictment, and 
 on the 2 1 St asked for mercy. Of the same date was 
 his letter to the Lords, entitled "The Humble Submis- 
 sion and Supplication of the Lord Chancellor," which 
 he conveyed to them before they had even formulated 
 the several counts of their indictment : — 
 
 "It may please your Lordships, I shall humbly crave, at 
 your Lordships' hands, a benign interpretation of that which 
 I shall now write. For words that come from wasted spirits 
 and an oppressed mind are more safe in being deposited in 
 a noble construction, than being circled in any reserved 
 caution. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 147 
 
 "This being moved, and, as I hope, obtained, in the nature 
 of a protection to all that I shall say, I shall now make into 
 the rest of that wherewith I shall at this time trouble your 
 Lordships, a very strange entrance. For in the midst of a 
 state of as great affliction as I think a mortal man can 
 endure, honor being above life, I shall begin with the pro- 
 fessing of gladness in some things. 
 
 "The first is, that hereafter the greatness of a judge or 
 magistrate shall be no sanctuary or protection of guiltiness, 
 which, in few words, is the beginning of a golden world. 
 
 "The next, that after this example, it is like that judges 
 will fly from anything that is in the likeness of corruption, 
 though it were at a great distance, as from a serpent ; which 
 tendeth to the purging of the courts of justice, and reducing 
 them to their true honor and splendor. 
 
 "And in these two points God is my witness that, though 
 it be my fortune to be the anvil whereupon these good 
 effects are beaten and wrought, I take no small comfort. 
 
 "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 do under- 
 stand that there hath been heretofore expected from me 
 some justification; 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 with Job in these words : ' I have not hid my sin, 
 as did Adam, nor concealed my faults in my bosom.' This 
 is the only justification which I will use. 
 
 " It resteth, therefore, that, without fig-leaves, I do ingen- 
 uously 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 defense, 
 and to move your Lordships to condemn and censure me. 
 
 "Neither will I trouble your Lordships by singling those 
 particulars which I think may fall off. 
 
148 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 " Quid te exempta juvat spinis de pluribus una? Neither 
 will I prompt your Lordships to observe upon the proofs, 
 where they come not home, or the scruples, touching the 
 credits of the witnesses. Neither will I represent unto your 
 Lordships how far a defense might, in divers things, exten- 
 uate the offense, in respect of the time or manner of the 
 gift, or the like circumstances, but only leave these things 
 to spring out of your own noble thoughts and observations 
 of the evidence and examinations themselves, and charitably 
 to wind about the particulars of the charge, here and there, 
 as God shall put into your mind; and so submit myself 
 wholly to your piety and grace. 
 
 "And now that I have spoken to your Lordships as 
 judges, I shall say a few words to you as peers and prelates, 
 humbly commending my cause to your noble minds and 
 magnanimous affections. 
 
 "Your Lordships are not simple judges, but parliamentary 
 judges. You have a further extent of arbitrary power than 
 other courts; and if your Lordships be not tied by the 
 ordinary course of courts or precedents in points of strict- 
 ness and severity, much more in points of mercy and 
 mitigation. 
 
 " And yet, if anything I shall move might be contrary to 
 your honorable and worthy ends to introduce a reformation, 
 I should not seek it. But herein I beseech your Lordships 
 to give me leave to tell you a story : Titus Manlius took his 
 son's life for giving battle against the prohibition of his 
 general. Not many years after, the like severity was pur- 
 sued by Papirius Cursor, the Dictator, against Quintus 
 Maximus, who, being upon the point to be sentenced, by 
 the intercession of some principal persons of the Senate, 
 was spared; whereupon Livy maketh this grave and gracious 
 observation: "■ Neque minus firinata est disciplina militaris 
 periculo Quinti Maximi, quam miserabili supplicio Titi 
 Mania.' The discipline of war was no less established by 
 the questioning of Quintus Maximus than by the punish- 
 ment of Titus Manlius. Aad the same reason is of the 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 1 49 
 
 reformation of justice; for the questioning of men of emi- 
 nent place hath the same terror, though not the same rigor, 
 with the punishment. 
 
 " But ray case standeth not there. For my humble desire 
 is that His Majesty would take the Seal into his hands, 
 which is a great downfall, and may serve, I hope, in itself, 
 for an expiation of my faults. 
 
 "Therefore, if mercy and mitigation be in your power, 
 and do no ways cross your ends, why should I not hope of 
 your Lordships' favor and commiseration ? 
 
 "Your Lordships will be pleased to behold your chief 
 pattern, the King, our Sovereign, a King of incomparable 
 clemency, and whose heart is inscrutable for wisdom and 
 goodness. Your Lordships will remember there sat not 
 these hundred years before a Prince in your House, and 
 never such a Prince, whose presence deserveth to be made 
 memorable by records and acts mixed of mercy and justice. 
 Yourselves are either nobles — and compassion ever beateth 
 in the veins of noble blood — or reverend prelates, who are 
 the servants of Him that would not 'break the bruised reed 
 nor quench the smoking flax.' You all sit upon one high 
 stage, and therefore cannot but be more sensible of the 
 changes of the world, and of the fall of any of high place. 
 
 "Neither will your Lordships forget that there are vziia 
 teinporis as well as vitia hominis, and that the beginning of 
 reformations hath the contrary power of the pool of Bethesda, 
 for that had strength to cure only him that was first cast 
 in, and this hast commonly strength to hurt him only that is 
 first cast in. And for my part I wish it may stay there and 
 go no further. 
 
 "Lastly, I assure myself your Lordships have a noble 
 feeling of me, as a member of your own body, and one that, 
 in this very session, had some taste of your loving affections, 
 which I hope was not a lightning before the death of them, 
 but rather a spark of that grace which now, in the conclu- 
 sion, will more appear. 
 
 "And therefore my humble suit to your Lordships is, that 
 
150 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 my penitent submission maj' be my sentence, and the loss 
 of the Seal my punishment; and that your Lordships will 
 spare any further sentence, but recommend me to His Maj- 
 esty's grace and pardon for all that is past. God's Holy 
 Spirit be amongst you. 
 
 " Your Lordships' humble 
 
 " servant and suppliant, 
 
 " Fr. St. Alban, Cauc. 
 "April 22, 1621." 
 
 On the 24th of April the House of Lords met to hear 
 the report of the committees that had been engaged in 
 the work assigned them. Prince Charles arose and 
 announced that the Lord Chancellor had confessed and 
 submitted, and delivered the paper, which Vi'as twice 
 read in the midst of probably a profound silence, not 
 unmingled with surprise. We are told that some time 
 elapsed before any one addressed the House. Finally 
 the Lord Chamberlain said: "The question is whether 
 this submission be sufficient to ground your Lordships' 
 judgment for a censure, without further examination." 
 
 Certainly it was irregular, to say the least, for a gen- 
 eral confession to be made, in qualified terms, to a 
 charge which had not been formally presented to the 
 accused, who had urged this formality as a necessary 
 precedent to the making of either a submission or 
 defense ; so the House went into a committee of the 
 whole, and the twenty-three charges were read. 
 
 Prince Charles and the favorite stood together and 
 alone in making a feeble effort in Bacon's behalf. 
 They threw out a tentative suggestion, which received 
 no encouragement, that the submission should be 
 accepted, and formal sentence avoided. Suffolk 
 said: — 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 151 
 
 "The confession is not sufficient, for he desireth to be a 
 judge, — to lose his Seal, and that to be the sentence; where- 
 fore it is far short of that we expect." 
 
 The Lord Chamberlain said : — 
 
 " It is not sufficient; for the confession is grounded upon 
 a rumor. . . . He neither speaks of the particular 
 charge, nor confesseth anything particular." 
 
 Southampton said : — 
 
 "He is charged by the Commons with corruption; and no 
 word of confession of any corruption in his submission. It 
 stands with the justice and honour of this House not to pro- 
 ceed without the parties' particular confession; or to have 
 the parties hear the charge, and we to hear the parties' 
 answer." 
 
 The next question was whether Bacon should be 
 brought to the bar, and there be confronted with the 
 charges. The result of the vote which saved him from 
 this trying ordeal indicates that the temper of a major- 
 ity of his judges was mercifully inclined. So the 
 "collection of corruptions" were sent to Bacon, "with- 
 out the proofs," the Lords accepting his willingness to 
 confess to be established, but not accepting his form of 
 confession as satisfactory. With the charges they sent 
 this message : — 
 
 "That the Lord Chancellor's confession is not fully set 
 down by his Lordship in the said submission, for three 
 causes: i. His Lordship confesseth not any particular 
 bribe nor corruption. 2. Nor showeth how his Lordship 
 heard of 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, 
 
152 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 and do expect his answer to the same with all convenient 
 expedition." 
 
 A comparison of the straightforward action of the 
 House of Lords — legal in form and considerate in 
 spirit — with Bacon's letter, reflects no honor upon the 
 Lord Chancellor. 
 
 He begins by putting upon the Lords the burden of 
 an "interpretation" of what he writes. He pretends 
 to rejoice in the reflection that he is to be the offering 
 upon the shrine of Judicial integrity, and that his 
 example and fate will regenerate the bench. He 
 declines to justify his conduct, and compares himself 
 to Job, at the expense of Adam. He protests his sin- 
 cerity; yet, after so earnest an introduction, treats the 
 charge so lightly as to accept it on hearsay, the same 
 as if presented in writing; and this, too, when the 
 charge is one involving that "honor above life." He 
 admits that his knowledge is such as moves him to 
 desert his defense, yet insinuates defenses while dis- 
 claiming them. The paragraph beginning "Neither 
 will I prompt your Lordships to observe upon the 
 proofs, where they come not home, or the scruples 
 touching the credits of the witnesses, etc.," catalogues 
 and suggests the possible or probable defenses against 
 acts of injustice with which he is threatened. He 
 appeals to the fraternal feeling of the peers, the pioug 
 Godlikeness of the prelates; he enlists classic anec- 
 dote; he becomes his own judge and names the pen- 
 alty; he hints at the King's disposition toward him; 
 he adroitly suggests to their Lordships that their own 
 day to be as he is may come ; he burdens the times 
 with half the vices of the man, and ends with a "peni- 
 tent submission," limited in its effect to the loss of the 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 153 
 
 Great Seal, and the retention of everything else worth 
 having, especially after losing the Lord Chancellorship 
 for corruption, the capacity to hold other offices of 
 honor and trust. 
 
 It would seem that, after the frank and friendly action 
 of the House of Lords in the premises. Bacon would 
 have pursued a strictly straightforward course. But he 
 wrote a private letter to the Chief Justice, which excited 
 the suspicions of, and irritated, the Lords. It was not 
 regarded as official, and therefore not presented to the 
 House ; but it was known to contain a reference to an 
 extension of time. Even his influential friend, the 
 Prince, could not brook this trifling, and it was on his 
 motion that the House demanded of Bacon a plain and 
 positive answer to the question whether or not he was 
 going to confess or defend. If, as he had protested, 
 he was going to confess, the plea of "guilty" required 
 no consideration. He had already said: — 
 
 " I do ingenuously confess and acknowledge that, having 
 understood the particulars of the charge, not formally from 
 the House, but enough to inform my conscience and mem- 
 ory, I find matter suflScient and full, both to move me to 
 desert the defense and to move your Lordships to condemn 
 and censure me." 
 
 But now, when the message of the Lords reached 
 him, demanding, in a peremptory tone, definite action 
 on his part, he replied : — 
 
 " The Lord Chancellor will make no manner of defense to 
 the charge ; but meaneth to acknowledge corruption, and to 
 make a particular confession to every point, and after that 
 an humble submission. But humbly craves liberty, that 
 where the charge is more full than he finds the truth of 
 
154 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 the fact, he may make declaration of the truth in such 
 particulars, the charge being brief and containing not all 
 the circumstances.'' 
 
 Driven to the wall, he reiterates his intention of 
 avowing his corruption, which avowal, previously made, 
 had already influenced the Lords to understand that 
 he required only of them the indictment, so to speak ; 
 and although he had also before declared that "he 
 understood the particulars of the charge, enough to 
 inform his conscience and memory," he now hints that 
 this informed conscience and memory is prepared to 
 submit explanations which, if not absolute defenses, 
 would amount to mitigating circumstances ; or, in other 
 words, he returns to the position which he assumed in 
 the letter of the 21st of April, when he wrote the King 
 that he would excuse and extenuate where he could, 
 and where he could do neither, would "ingenuously 
 confess." 
 
 The Lords took him at his word, and sent him the 
 particulars of the charge without the proofs derived 
 from the examination of witnesses, without even fur- 
 nishing him with the names of the witnesses. His 
 apologists picture his position as a hard one. But 
 when he claimed to be sufficiently informed of "the 
 particulars," as the basis of his first confession, which 
 was rejected on account of its equivocations ; and when 
 the Lords, for the first and only time during the inves- 
 tigation, exhibited some impatience, and somewhat 
 sharply said, defend yourself if you have any defense, 
 confess if you are going to confess, and he replied that 
 he would confess, thefe was nothing for them to do but 
 oblige him with a copy of the particulars. 
 
 It is evident that Bacon had, to some extent, kept 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 155 
 
 pace with the inquiry, and had derived information 
 touching the proceedings sufficient enough to at least 
 refresh his memory ; for his final confession deals with 
 the charges seriatim, and abounds in particulars of his 
 own, extenuating and excusing when he does not, 
 "without fig-leaves, ingenuously confess." 
 
 "To THE Right Honorable the Lords Spiritual and 
 Temporal in the High Court of Parliament 
 assembled. 
 
 " The Confession and Humble Submission of me. Lord 
 Chancellor : — 
 
 " Upon advised consideration of the charge, descending 
 into my own conscience, and calling my memory to account 
 so far as I am able," [Here the reader will recall the asser- 
 tion in his previous " ingenuous " confession of an unquali- 
 fiedly informed memory, " having understood the particulars 
 of the charge enough to inform my conscience and mem- 
 ory,"] " I do plainly and ingenuously confess that I am guilty 
 of corruption, and do renounce all defense, and put myself 
 upon the grace and mercy of your Lordships." 
 
 If the English language is capable of conveying an 
 idea, the uninitiated would certainly accept this as con- 
 clusive of Bacon's guilt. No excuses or extenuations 
 could, it would be presumed, qualify this fact. Yet 
 the industrious and eloquent pens of the editors of the 
 two fullest and best editions of the works of Lord 
 Bacon have followed him through his answers to the 
 twenty-eight distinct charges of corruption, and have 
 expended the subtlety of logic, the refinement of casu- 
 istry, the ardor of partisanship, the devotion of disci- 
 ples, to prove that Bacon was innocent of corruption, — 
 or rather to disprove Bacon's confession of corruption. 
 It were better that every line he had written were 
 
1-56 ' FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 blotted out of existence, and that the human race were 
 deprived of the benefits wliich those writings have con- 
 ferred upon it, than that honesty, truth and justice 
 should be compromised. Why propose this sacrifice, 
 as needless as it is dreadful? Cannot we bow before 
 the majesty of his intellect without enslaving our moral 
 instincts? If the great mind was linked to a small 
 nature, must we condone his desertion of Essex, his 
 flattering the living and abusing the dead Salisbury, 
 his subserviency to James, his disgraceful propitiation 
 of the angry favorite, his justification of torture, his 
 vindictiveness toward the more vindictive Coke, his 
 diversion of great gifts from philosophical pursuits to 
 place-hunting, his puerile passion for pomp, to which 
 he sacrificed his honor, his defense of the prerogative, 
 to which he was ready to sacrifice the liberties of Eng- 
 land, his support of monopolies, whose execution 
 resulted in the robbery of the poor and the outraging 
 of the helpless, and lastly, his official corruption? 
 Must we condone all these incidents and elements in 
 his career and character because admiration and awe 
 of his brilliant intellect seem irreconcilable with the 
 contempt which this long list merits, just as his writings 
 are irreconcilable with his actions, his lessons of life 
 with his mode of life, his advice to judges with his 
 judicial conduct? 
 
 In the Appendix at the end of this volume the reader 
 will find the confession, which, after the introductory, 
 unqualified admission, separately admits each charge, 
 with, however, qualifications and explanations, such as 
 that he received the money or presents of the litigants 
 before or after the passage of a final decree ; that one 
 litigant gave him money before the decision, the other 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 157 
 
 party to the same suit gave it after the decision. He 
 dwells with some self-gratulation upon his unsuccessful 
 attempt to return one present, and with unction upon 
 the fact of his having taken money openly and above 
 board in another instance, from three parties litigant: 
 " If I had taken it in the nature of a corrupt bribe, I 
 knew it could not be concealed." In conclusion, by 
 presents of gold buttons to beautify his coat, a diamond 
 to glitter in his hat, suits of hangings for his walls, and 
 cash received, the Lord Chancellor's one hand closed 
 upon about ;£'i2,320, or $61,600, while the other hand 
 held the Great Seal of England for the brief period of 
 two years. 
 
 To the last charge, that of passing decrees at the 
 request of corrupt servants, he says : " I confess it was 
 a great fault of neglect in me that I looked no better 
 to my servants." 
 
 All argument in this branch of charge and confession 
 can be dismissed by applying the touchstone which 
 Bacon has applied to those who sit in judgment on 
 official corruption, or to those who contemplate such 
 laxity, their consciences being lulled to sleep by the 
 subtle casuistry of the philosopher's apologists. In his 
 "Essay on Great Place " he says : — 
 
 " For corruption do not only bind thine own hands or thy 
 servants' hands from taking, but bind the hands of suitors 
 from offering. For integrity used doth the one, but integ- 
 rity professed, and with a manifest detestation of bribery, 
 doth the other; and avoid not only the fault, but the 
 suspicion." 
 
 This appeal from "Philip drunk" to "Philip sober" 
 ends the present consideration of Bacon's moral and 
 
158 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 legal responsibility, and concludes all question of his 
 moral and legal guilt in respect to his abuse of power 
 and confidence at the instigation of his subordinates. 
 
 Not the least remarkable feature of this confession 
 and ear-mark of Bacon's characteristic inconsistency is, 
 that after excuses and extenuations which have fur- 
 nished texts upon which his apologists have expatiated 
 at large, he himself deprives them of all weight and 
 worthiness by admitting a possibility of error in fact on 
 his part; or, if he should be correct in his facts, he is 
 still "guilty as indicted." 
 
 "This declaration," continues the confession, after the 
 last particular answer, " I have made to your Lordships with 
 a sincere mind, humbly craving that, if there should be any 
 mistaking, your Lordships would impute it to want of mem- 
 ory, and not to any desire of mine to obscure truth or palli- 
 ate anything; for I do again confess that in the points 
 charged upon me, although they should be taken as myself 
 have declared them, there is a great deal of corruption and 
 neglect J for which I am heartily and penitently sorry, and 
 submit myself to the judgment, grace and mercy of the 
 court." 
 
 The prosecutors and court of Bacon were merciful 
 and tender. He was not brought in the role of a great 
 criminal to face his accusers and judges, to be brow- 
 beaten by a Coke and misrepresented by a once bosom 
 friend, — Southampton, — whom, twenty years before, 
 he had confronted and prosecuted, whose slender thread 
 of hope he had cut with the sharp edge of his legal 
 sword, as it whirled about the heads of the two young 
 earls who were faithful unto death. Southampton was 
 now one of his judges. Perhaps he recalled the scene 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 IS9 
 
 where, when he pleaded that the intention of the actor 
 gave color to the act, Bacon said : — 
 
 " Neither is it any point of law, as my Lord of Southamp- 
 ton would have it believed, that condemns them of treason. 
 To take secret counsel, etc.! Will any simple man take 
 this to be less than treason ? " 
 
 The earl was, however, as considerate as any of those 
 who pitied a Lord Chancellor whose frailty crowned his 
 old age with dishonor. Bacon's confession might well 
 have challenged the credulity of his peers, whether it 
 was that it presented no substantial extenuation of the 
 charge, and was so entirely, in its introduction and 
 close, an admission of guilt ; or whether they regarded 
 his explanations with suspicion, and, in view of his first 
 unsatisfactory and disingenuous confession, as a kind 
 of reservation ; or whether they deemed it essential to 
 regularity of legal procedure for him to be confronted 
 by at least some of his judges, they decided to send a 
 committee of twelve to wait upon him. This committee 
 found him bowed in spirit and sick in body. They 
 approached fallen greatness with the delicacy of gen- 
 tlemen and the charity of Christians. They even 
 attempted to console the inconsolable by the assurance 
 that "the Lords conceived it to be an ingenuous and 
 full confession," as they extended the paper to him 
 and inquired if the signature was genuine, and if he 
 was still of the same mind. 
 
 With anguish of soul and voice which we can well 
 imagine, he replied : " My Lords, it is my act, my hand, 
 my heart. I beseech your Lordships, be merciful to a 
 broken reed." 
 
 They quickly retired from the sad scene and reported 
 
l6o FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 their interview to the House of Lords. The King was 
 moved to sequester the Great Seal. He immediately 
 appointed a commission to receive it. These three 
 gentlemen found Bacon, as the previous messengers 
 had left him, sick in mind and body. They, too, 
 indulged in kindly speech, and on their wishing "it 
 had been better with him," he replied: "The worse the 
 better. By the King's great favor I received the Great 
 Seal ; by my own great fault I have lost it." 
 
 Nothing now was left but to proceed to judgment 
 and sentence. 
 
 On the 2d of May the House of Lords met, and it 
 was decided to summon Bacon to appear and receive 
 sentence on the morrow. But Bacon was found, and 
 reported to be sick in bed. His excuse for his non- 
 appearance was accepted, and the case proceeded with. 
 The vote was taken, and "they all agreed that the 
 Lord Chancellor is guilty of the matters wherewith he 
 is charged, nemine dissentiente." 
 
 Sentence followed. A fine of ;^4o,ooo, imprisonment 
 in the Tower during the King's pleasure, incapacity for 
 office and banishment from court, closed Bacon's 
 official life and public career. 
 
 On the 3d of May, 162 1, final judgment was pro- 
 nounced, and the last of the month found him paying a 
 portion of his heavy penalty as a prisoner in the Tower 
 of London. 
 
 The King and favorite are charged with having 
 offered up Bacon as a pledge to the people of England 
 that the spirit of reform, which spared neither a greedy 
 Lord Chancellor nor a greedy Justice of the Peace, was 
 earnest and sincere ; they are credited with placing 
 themselves under the guidance of that wily Welshman, 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. i6l 
 
 Dean Williams, who advised his being cast into the 
 whirlpool of popular and virtuous indignation as a tub 
 is thrown to a whale ; but as far as they dared, they 
 stood by their too accommodating servant. They were 
 too cautious to run any risks. Buckingham voted that 
 he was guilty, but was the only dissentient to the sen- 
 tence. To him Bacon turned, ere he had been impris- 
 oned two days, according to one account; according to 
 all, but a few days : — 
 
 "Good my Lord : — Procure the warrant for my discharge 
 this day. Death, I thank God, is so far from being unwel- 
 come to me as I have called for it (as a Christian resolution 
 would permit) any time these two months. But to die 
 before the time of His Majesty's grace, and in this disgrace- 
 ful 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 temptation could ever 
 make other than a trusty, an honest and thrice-loving friend 
 to your Lordship; and howsoever I acknowledge the sen- 
 tence just, and for reformation sake fit, the justest Chan- 
 cellor that hath been in the five changes since Sir Nicholas 
 Bacon's time. God bless and prosper your Lordship, what- 
 soever become of me. 
 
 " Your Lordship's true friend, living and dying, 
 
 " Fr. St. Alban. 
 
 "Tower, 31st May, 1621." 
 
 It cannot be gainsayed that he was a true and perfect 
 servant to James and his service, and fate suggests the 
 sad soliloquy of Wolsey, fitter far for the lips of the 
 Lord Chancellor than of the Lord Cardinal. Nor did 
 he ever swerve from the service of the favorite but 
 once ; but that departure he redeemed by deserting his 
 
1 62 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 principles and his co-conspirator, Lady Hatton ; there- 
 fore they both might well be appealed to for the exer- 
 cise of clemency, which was in the power of the King 
 and at the bidding of the favorite. But what Bacon 
 means by calling himself the justest among five Chan- 
 cellors, after his confession of corruption, is a problem 
 which Lord Campbell solves by saying: — 
 
 "He tries to delude himself into some sort of self- 
 complacency, from the thought that his decrees were sound 
 in spite of all the bribes he had accepted, and that he sold 
 justice, not injustice." * 
 
 His sentence of imprisonment was during the King's 
 pleasure ; and it was Buckingham's as well as James' 
 pleasure that he should not linger long. On the 4th of 
 June we find him thanking the favorite for his release, 
 and, strange being! complaining that his mind would 
 be still in prison until he could be on his feet to do to 
 His Majesty and His Majesty's favorite faithful ser- 
 vice. Out of prison, but not in office. Liberty, but 
 not license. Time for philosophy, but no stage for 
 politics. And what an exhibition of self-rehabilitation, 
 of elasticity, does this note of gratitude present ! 
 
 "I heartily thank your Lordship," he writes, "for getting 
 me out of prison ; and now my body is out, my mind, never- 
 theless, 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." 
 
 A letter of thanks was written to Prince Charles, 
 who completed the friendly trio. To him, too, he 
 touches on the subject of future employment. 
 
 * Campbell's Lives. Vol. II., 416 p. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 163 
 
 Abruptly ending his imprisonment was releasing but 
 one penalty. There were others to be paid. So in his 
 letter of thanks to the King he says : — 
 
 " But Your Majesty, that did shed tears in the beginning 
 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 
 devoted servant." 
 
 This petition, too, was favorably answered, for ere 
 the end of June, James invited the judge, who was con- 
 victed of corruption, and who countenanced monopo- 
 lies, to advise how best to set about reforming courts 
 of justice and redressing grievances; and the ex-Lord 
 Chancellor resumed his pen and responded promptly 
 and ably to the demand. 
 
 It is strange that one who, in the bitterness of his 
 heart, when the storm first broke upon him, exclaimed 
 that the symbol of the highest employment would not 
 be picked up on Hounslow Heath, for it was also the 
 symbol of the deepest misery; who, as the storm 
 increased in anger, turned his eyes toward heaven and 
 protested that death would soon take him by the hand 
 and lead him into that haven where " the wicked cease 
 from troubling and the weary be at rest" ; that one who 
 had confessed his utter unworthiness ; one whom South- 
 ampton urged his peers to spare from the sentence of 
 degradation, "though worthy"; one of whom this mer- 
 ciful but just judge said, "Shall he whom this House 
 thinks unfitto be a constable come to the parliament ? " — 
 it is more than strange that such an one should, ere the 
 ink was dry on the record of his confession, his guilt, 
 his exile from court, his incapacitation for service, hope 
 for employment, seek employment, receive employment. 
 
164 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 London was almost as dear to the heart of Bacon as 
 to that of Dr. Johnson. But his sentence excluded 
 him from so near an approach to the court. He 
 appealed to the King and favorite. They listened 
 favorably to his prayer; but the politic Dean, now 
 Lord Keeper, and Bacon's successor in the confidence 
 of James and Buckingham, interposed, and represented 
 that parliament would resent this second nullification 
 of the entirety of the sentence. He advised the post- 
 ponement of further favor until after the adjournment; 
 so Bacon was compelled to retire to Gorhambury, his 
 rural retreat, where extravagance of adornment had 
 contributed to the corruption of which he had been 
 guilty. 
 
 He reluctantly accepted the inevitable, after lament- 
 ing his separation from James and the favorite, and 
 begging for permission to stay in London until the last 
 of July, "to take some present order for the debts that 
 press me most." 
 
 But even this request, made June 20th, 1621, had to 
 be refused; and by a second letter to Buckingham, 
 written on the 22d, he says he is content to go forthwith 
 to Gorhambury, as " His Majesty's instructions " indi- 
 cate. His arrival there he announces to Buckingham, 
 and adds : — 
 
 "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." 
 
 Was that allh His postscript is the answer: — ■ 
 
 " Being now out of use and out of sight, I recommend 
 myself to your Lordship's favor, to mainUin me in His 
 Majesty's grace and good intention." 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 165 
 
 Another letter to Buckingham indignantly denies the 
 accusation made to the favorite, who contemplated 
 devising some means to relieve Bacon's straightened 
 circumstances, that the ex-Lord Chancellor had received 
 " an hundred thousand pounds gifts " while he held the 
 Great Seal; and then follows this earnest protest: — 
 
 " I praise God for it, I never took penny for any benefice 
 or ecclesiastical living; I never took penny for releasing 
 anything I stopped at the Seal ; I never took penny for any 
 commission, or things of that nature ; I never shared with 
 any servant for any second or inferior profit." 
 
 These are the corruptions he was not guilty of. Is 
 it a subject of self-gratulation that he did not run up 
 and down the gamut of judicial frailty? Do we meas- 
 ure innocence by the quantity which a thief has taken, 
 or the number of blows the murderer has given his 
 victim ? The fair statue of Justice lay shattered at the 
 feet of the Lord Chancellor as soon as the first guinea 
 crossed his palm. Some scruples about this self- 
 laudation arose while he was presenting himself as one 
 outraged by the tongue of slander, for he continues : — 
 
 " My offenses I have myself recorded, wherein I studied, 
 as a good confessant, guiltiness and not excuse; and there- 
 fore I hope it leaves me fair to the King's grace, and will 
 turn many men's hearts to me." 
 
 A letter to the King ascribes Bacon's " New Birth " 
 to the joint work upon him of God and James the First. 
 "This '■Nova Creatura' is the work of God's pardon 
 and the King's," he writes, and then enumerates the 
 Roman and Grecian philosophers and patriots who, 
 like himself, had been guilty of corruption, had been 
 
1 66 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 disgraced and banished, but who had been recalled and 
 restored to place and power. He disclaims the self- 
 evident application of the comparison: — 
 
 " This, if it please Your Majesty," he says, " I do not say 
 for appetite of employment, but for hope that if I do by 
 myself as is fit. Your Majesty will never suffer me to die in 
 want or dishonor." 
 
 This letter he enclosed with one to Buckingham, 
 which contains this gloomy picture of his affairs: — 
 
 " I have lived hitherto on the scraps of my former for- 
 tunes, and I shall not be able to hold out longer. ... I 
 am much fallen in love with a private life ; but yet I shall so 
 spend my time as shall not decay my abilities for use;" — 
 [/. e. when he should be recalled to public life.] 
 
 Another letter on the same subject is sent to the 
 King. In this he catalogues the sources of his revenue 
 in the past, the surrender of profitable employments 
 for those which were more honorable, and thus 
 expresses what many a great office-holder has thought 
 and felt in retirement, though never so forcibly uttered, 
 when similarly situated: — 
 
 "The honors which Your Majesty hath done me have 
 put me above the means to get my living; and the misery I 
 am fallen into hath put me below the means to subsist as 
 I am." 
 
 This letter is supplemented by still another to the 
 Prince, on the same subject. 
 
 These repeated efforts were crowned with a release 
 of the ;^4o,ooo fine, or rather its assignment by the 
 King, to whom it was due, to persons named by Bacon 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 167 
 
 himself, in trust for Bacon, which was a protection 
 against his other creditors, since the King's claim had 
 preference ; and thus were the debtor's prison and the 
 tip-staff banished from Bacon's dreams by night, and 
 fears by day. 
 
 This favor was conferred as well upon literature, 
 science, philosophy, the living and the unborn; for it 
 gave some liberty and leisure to the great faculties 
 hitherto dedicated to unworthy objects, to devote them- 
 selves to pursuits the most fitting, and, too, the most 
 congenial, when unrivalled by "the last infirmity of 
 noble minds." 
 
 The noble and beautiful segment of Bacon's life is 
 confined to the brief period which succeeded his polit- 
 ical, and preceded his natural, death. 
 
 This golden twilight of the stormy day was ushered 
 in by the publication of his "History of Heniy VII.," 
 for he had resumed his sceptre — the pen. 
 
 Occasionally, in the midst of comparative poverty, his 
 old love of display would exhibit itself, as in the instance 
 of his refusing to sell the woods about Gorhambury to 
 relieve his necessities, giving, as one excuse, "I will 
 not be stripped of my feathers," and upon the heel of 
 full pardon temporarily revived the old love of political 
 activity; but he must be regarded as one who now 
 acquiesced gracefully, and gave the first proof of that 
 wisdom and virtue which he commended to others in 
 such profound and persuasive lessons. 
 
 Though in his old age disgrace and dishonor drove 
 him into retirement, philosophy and religion supported 
 him on either side. The shattered bark rested in the 
 peaceful harbor, the dimmed lamp of his youth shone 
 brightly again, and the old man's eyes "dwelt upon the 
 
I 68 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 bright countenance of Truth, in the quiet and still air 
 of delightful studies." 
 
 The "Advancement of Learning" was translated into 
 Latin, and enlarged into his "Z'^ Augmentis Scientia- 
 rum;" yet the former has not been swallowed up 
 entirely, but remains to be read and admired for its 
 individual merits of style and expression, as well as of 
 the thought which the greater work further develops. 
 
 His tireless pen next produced the " History of Life 
 and Death," and a new revised and enlarged edition of 
 the " Essays ; " the one the lesson of man's physical, the 
 other the lesson of man's moral, nature. Then followed 
 his several contributory chapters to his " Great Instaura- 
 tion," whose title remains unfilled, because the life of one 
 man could not have possibly accomplished the design ; 
 the "Discourse of a War with Spain," "A Dialogue 
 Touching on Holy War," both political pamphlets for 
 the times, the "New Atlantis," the incompleted under- 
 taking of digesting the laws of England, of writing the 
 "History of Henry VIII.," translations of certain of 
 the Psalms into English verse, "Sylva Sylvarum; or 
 the Natural History," scientific tracts, and translations 
 of certain of his works, originally in English, into Latin,, 
 for he had no faith in the immortality of the English 
 tongue. " These modern languages will some day," he 
 says, "play the bankrupts with books." And, lastly, 
 among his contributions was his "Apotliegms; or Jest- 
 Book," which is, in parts, annually rehashed in the foot- 
 notes of American almanacs and the humorous columns 
 of rural newspapers. 
 
 And of all these labors, not one of them is there, save 
 the political pamphlets, which was not inspired by the 
 wish and hope of making future generations happier, 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 1 69 
 
 wiser and better than himself and his fellow-men about 
 him. 
 
 The reader i^ familiar with how, in the midst of these 
 labors, he fell a victim to his beloved experimental 
 philosophy, exposing himself to extreme cold and damp 
 while trying whether meat could not be artificially pre- 
 served by being packed in snow, — an experiment whose 
 present application is a profitable branch of trade 
 between nations separated by oceans. He was away 
 from home at the time, and being taken with a chill, 
 was driven to the house of the Earl of Arundel, for he 
 had descended from his coach, and the wayside was his 
 laboratory. There the housekeeper assigned him to a 
 damp room and bed ; he grew rapidly worse, and died 
 on Easter morning, April 9th, 1626. 
 
 He died under a strange roof, in the atms of Sir 
 Julius Cffisar. No ministering hands of feminine love 
 soothed his fevered brow, moistened his parched lips ; 
 no gentle woman's voice, modulated by sympathy and 
 sorrow, fell upon his ear. He was worse than wifeless, 
 for the alderman's daughter, the "handsome maiden to 
 his liking,'' had not shared his sorrows ; she was gone 
 from him, living upon an allowance spared with diffi- 
 culty from his narrow means. It is said she was faith- 
 less; at any rate, she honored the memory of the great 
 philosopher by marrying "her gentleman-usher" ere the 
 funeral baked meats grew cold. 
 
 Bacon was not only worse than wifeless ; he was with- 
 out children — 
 
 " To rock the cradle of reposing age, 
 With lenient hands extend a father's breath, 
 Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death, 
 Explore the thought, explain the asking eye. 
 And keep awhile that father from the sky." 
 
170 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 Little or nothing is known of his funeral. A few 
 "friends, faithful among the faithless, enthusiastic young 
 disciples, among whom was Hobbes, tl!fe then budding 
 philosopher of Malmesbury, Sir Thomas Meawtys, his 
 devoted chaplain, Rawley, and servants whom adver- 
 sity could not alienate, composed the train which fol- 
 lowed fallen greatness to its last resting-place. 
 
 As a mother's face is the first which the infant's 
 eyes recognize, so is it probably the last image of the 
 dying man's vision; and the great philosopher, in sol- 
 emn contemplation of the future and reflective retro- 
 spection of the past, recalled his mother's tender care 
 of his childhood, her affecting reception on his return 
 to a fatherless home, her devotion to his material and 
 spiritual advancement, her unwavering loyalty until her 
 own troubles, darkened by religious fanaticism, clouded 
 her once vigorous and self-reliant intellect. 
 
 It was in the midst of such reflections that, in his old 
 age, he bethought himself of the mother who had been his 
 only disinterested friend, and in his will directed that his 
 worn-out body should be laid beside her in St. Michael's 
 Church. There he is represented, on his monument, in 
 a contemplative posture, his head resting on his hand. 
 This tribute to his memory was erected by his ardent 
 admirer. Sir Thomas Meawtys, his secretary, who found 
 a resting-place after death at the feet of his beloved 
 master. A Latin inscription, written by Sir Henry 
 Wotton, is carved upon the stone. 
 
 The executors of his will neglected to qualify, and 
 Buckingham, who was to have supervised the execution 
 of his testamentary wishes, was, at the time of Bacon's 
 death, too much occupied in the matter of his own 
 impeachment to do anything but study how to escape 
 long-merited and long-postponed punishment. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. I71 
 
 Letters of administration with the will annexed were 
 granted to two of his creditors, who proceeded to settle' 
 the estate. 
 
 Allusion has been made to the suspected faithlessness 
 of Lady Bacon. This opinion rests upon the following 
 extract from his will, the inferences of his biographers, 
 and, perhaps, traditional gossip : — 
 
 " Whatsoever I have given, granted, confirmed or 
 appointed to my wife, in the former part of this will, I 
 do now for just and great causes utterly revoke and make 
 void, and leave her to her right only." 
 
 The large indebtedness of Bacon made a sale of 
 everything necessary. The siun realized was compara- 
 tively insignificant, especially from the real estate. The 
 lands brought about ;^6,ooo, while the personal prop- 
 erty produced about ;^7,ooo. His debts were nearly 
 double the total, or about ;£'23,37i. His library was 
 scattered, probably, for few traces of it remain. His 
 manuscripts fell into the hands of his devoted chaplain, 
 Dr. Rawley, and his friend. Sir William Boswell. The 
 former held far the larger share, which he jealously 
 guarded and edited; those bequeathed to the latter 
 were not so well cared for, and many of them were 
 .'ost. 
 
 The first edition of Bacon's works noticed by 
 Lowndes was "published by John Blackbourne, Lon- 
 don, 1730. Folio, 4 vols., with portrait by Vertue." 
 This may be considered the beginning of the Baconian 
 revival. His writings published in his lifetime had 
 been advertised during preparation through the channel 
 of that correspondence which was general among the 
 scholars of his time, who formed a close corporation 
 
172 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 of brains. His greater works were waited for impa- 
 tiently, for they were delayed and their completion 
 prevented by his other pursuits. When written in 
 English they were translated into Latin, and many of 
 them further translated into Continental tongues, so 
 that his essays and the lighter fruits of his pen were 
 placed in the hands of those who did not belong to the 
 Senate of that age's Republic of Letters. In this way 
 the name and fame of Bacon crossed the channel, and 
 he became the best and widest known and admired of 
 all Englishmen. " Eminent foreigners crossed the seas 
 on purpose to see and discourse with him." We are 
 told that the Marquis D'Effrat, when attending Henri- 
 etta Maria from France, visited him, and he found the 
 philosopher confined to his bed. There Bacon received 
 him, and oddly enough conversed with him from behind 
 the drawn curtains of his couch. What the Frenchman 
 thought he perhaps did not say, but he is credited with 
 this speech : — 
 
 "You resemble the angels; we hear those beings con- 
 stantly talked of, we believe them superior to mankind, and 
 we never have the consolation to see them." 
 
 Bacon replied : — 
 
 " If the charity of others compared him to an angel, his 
 own infirmities told him he was a man." 
 
 After this first attempted collection of Bacon's writ- 
 ings and their publication in 1730, there followed 
 another with a life, by David Mallet, in 1740, and then 
 came a succession of editions of his then extant writings. 
 His essays were his only writings from which he himself 
 could be said to have derived any pecuniary profit. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 1 73 
 
 Their popularity was unprecedented at home and 
 hardly paralleled abroad. They circulated on the 
 Continent and among the American colonists. They 
 are said to have been the first book published in Phila- 
 delphia, or rather a part of this first book, which was 
 entitled "The Temple of Wisdom," and was printed by 
 William Bradford, Philadelphia, 1688. 
 
 At last, Basil Montagu, Esq., a scholarly lawyer, 
 accomplished the grateful task of editing a nearly per- 
 fect collection of " The Works of Francis Bacon, Lord 
 Chancellor of England," which were supplemented by 
 a life of the lawyer, statesman and philosopher; the 
 persistent place-hunter, the elastic moralist and the 
 corrupt judge. Published in 1825-1834, it was reviewed 
 by Macaulay in 1837, in the Edinburgh. Mr. Montagu, 
 instead of throwing the veil of charity over the man, 
 demanded entire veneration for the writer. He defended 
 dishonesty with such honesty, hypocrisy with such sin- 
 cerity, deceit with such frankness, and cowardice with 
 such courage, that if his mission had been to overthrow 
 the decalogue, destroy all distinctions between right 
 and wrong, and degrade manhood, he could not have 
 better fulfilled it than by becoming the biographer of 
 Bacon. The reader is familiar with the essay of 
 Macaulay. It is an honest and eloquent appeal in 
 behalf of the principles of morality that are eternal 
 and universal. Lord Campbell, in his lives of the 
 Lord Chancellors, wrote the life of Bacon from a pro- 
 fessional and narrower standpoint; and he stands on 
 Lord Macaulay's platform, as the champion of judicial 
 integrity. But since Mr. Montagu undertook to offer 
 "extenuations and excuses "for Bacon, which he him- 
 self, in "all ingenuousness, without fig-leaves," could 
 
174 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 not submit to his judges, the Ex-Chancellor has been a 
 problematical character. Sides have been taken, and 
 critics and apologists have been arrayed against one an- 
 other. Hence it is impossible to talk about him with- 
 out discussion or write about him without argument. 
 Within a comparatively recent period a new edition of 
 his writings, supplemented by a life, has been ably and 
 conscientiously edited, but his biographer, as blinded 
 as Mr. Montagu, has walked the same path the latter 
 trod. 
 
 The aim of this sketch has been to point out with 
 particularity the frailty of the man, in order to avoid 
 confusing his intellectual excellence with his moral 
 weakness. 
 
 "There is scarcely any delusion which has a better claim 
 to be indulgently treated than that," says Macaulay, "under 
 the influence of which a man ascribes every moral excellence 
 to those who have left imperishable monuments of their 
 genius." 
 
 It is against this tendency towards a blind partiality 
 that the reader of Bacon's works is to fortify himself. 
 Without reviewing the details of his conduct preceding 
 his promotion to the Lord Keepership, it is proposed to 
 dwell briefly upon the moral quality of his conduct 
 which involved his trial and conviction on the charge 
 of corruption. 
 
 The defense of Bacon, as is well known, was origin- 
 ally advanced by Mr. Montagu on the ground that 
 the acceptance of presents was a very common thing 
 in those days, not regarded as wrong by public opinion j 
 and secondly, that the gifts he received were not bribes, 
 but friendly or grateful gratuities. His later apologist 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 175 
 
 finds consolation and excuse in tlie reflection tliat the 
 oath administered to the judges of England not to 
 receive anything from suitors, even after final judg- 
 ment,* was not taken by the Lord Chancellor, and that 
 therefore he stood in a different relation in the prem- 
 ises than the ordinary judges occupied. To argue 
 against extravagant defenses such as these, seems, at 
 first blush, to be a work of supererogation. But what 
 has been seriously submitted should be seriously con- 
 sidered. It is true, as Mr. Spedding says, that the 
 Lord Chancellor did not take the oath which the ordi- 
 nary judges took. But the statute imposing it must be 
 regarded as declaratory of the Common Law. Its aim 
 was to more particularly define bribery, and throw addi- 
 tional safeguards around judicial purity and integrity. 
 In cataloguing crimes, Blackstone says : — 
 
 "Bribery is the next species of ofEense against public 
 justice; which is when a judge, or other person concerned in 
 the administration of justice, takes any undue reward to 
 influence his behavior in office. In the East it is the custom 
 never to petition any superior for justice, not excepting 
 their Kings, without a present. This is calculated for the 
 genius of despotic countries, where the true principles of 
 government are never understood, and it is imagined there 
 is no obligation from the superior to the inferior, no relative 
 duty owing from the governor to the governed. The Roman 
 law, though it contained many severe judgments against 
 bribery, as well as for selling a man's vote in the Senate or 
 other public assembly, as for the bartering of common jus- 
 tice, yet by a strange indulgence in one instance it tacitly 
 encouraged this practice; allowing the magistrates to 
 receive small presents, provided they did not in the whole 
 
 * Spedding's Life, vol. II., p. 4SS- Am. ed. 
 
176 FRANCIS BACON j 
 
 exceed a hundred pounds in the year; not considering the 
 insinuating nature and gigantic practice of this vice when 
 once admitted. * * * In England, in judges, especially 
 the superior ones, it hath been always looked upon as so 
 heinous an offense that the Chief-Justice Thorpe was 
 hanged for it in the reign of Edward III,"* 
 
 We have the offense of bribery referable to any 
 -person concerned in the administration of justice. 
 This, though, is a limited view, for there are others who 
 are susceptible to the temptation and crime, such, for 
 instance, as legislative or executive servants of a gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 But the next question is, was a Lord Chancellor a 
 judge? If the reader will turn to the preceding pages, 
 and refer to the correspondence of Bacon, and to his 
 notes touching his proposed interview with the King, 
 it will be found that the Lord Chancellor used the word 
 "judge" as applicable to himself in the role of a • 
 defendant. 
 
 " The High Court of Chancery," says Blackstone, treating 
 of the judicial system of England, which was the same in 
 Bacon's day, "is, in matters of civil property, by much the 
 most important of any of the King's superior and original 
 courts of justice." f 
 
 Notwithstanding the distinction attempted to be 
 drawn by the latest enthusiastic defender of Bacon, the 
 conclusion is inevitable that chancery was a court, and 
 the Lord Chancellor a judge, and these, too, in fact, in 
 law, and in the opinion of Bacon, as he referred to him- 
 
 *Blk. Com. Bk. IV., p. 139. 
 t Bl. Com. Bk. III., p. 47. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 177 
 
 self as a judge in his writings touching the charge and 
 defense. 
 
 The next point is, was the custom of receiving pres- 
 ents from suitors so general, so established by prece- 
 dent, and so sustained by public opinion, as to be 
 venial ? 
 
 Sir Thomas More was the ornament of the reign of 
 Henry VIII. He was, too, a scholar with whose life 
 and writings Bacon must have been familiar. As Lord 
 Chancellor he was the embodiment of a just judge and 
 honest man. He, too, was once tempted with gifts by 
 a suitor; but how he met the incipient bribe and 
 rebuked him who offered it. Bacon himself informs us, 
 for among his "Apothegms" is this story: — 
 
 " Sir Thomas More had sent him, by a suitor in chancery, 
 two silver flagons. When they were presented by the gen- 
 tleman's servant he said to one of his men : ' Have him to 
 the cellar, and let him have of my best wine.' And turning 
 to the servant he said : ' Tell thy master, friend, if he like it 
 let him not spare it.' " 
 
 Other anecdotes of the same character are told of 
 this predecessor of Bacon on the wool-sack. He was 
 accused of (taking a bribe from one Vaughn, and admit 
 ted that tl. ; man's wife had offered him a silver cup, 
 which he td )k and filled with wine, which he drank to 
 her health, \ hen returned the cup, telling her to restore 
 it to her husband: — 
 
 " As freely as your husband hath given this cup to me, 
 even so freely give I the same to you again, to give to your 
 husband for his New Year's gift." 
 
 A lady presented him with a pair of gloves stuffed 
 with angels, to the amount of ;^4o. He said: — 
 
178 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 " Mistress, since it were against good manners to refuse 
 your New Year's gift, I am content to take your gloves, 
 but as for the lining, I utterly refuse it." 
 
 Both Lords Macaulay and Campbell refer to the 
 public sentiment which enthusiastically reciprocated 
 Hugh Latimer's philippics against the offering and tak- 
 ing of the so-called "gifts," whose acceptance brought 
 disgrace and dishonor upon Bacon. 
 
 Burton, born in the year 1576, who published the first 
 edition of his "Anatomy of Melancholy" in 1621, and 
 subsequent editions in 1624 and later, is a contempora- 
 neous authority on public sentiment. Referring to Old 
 Verulam, the place suggests the fallen Chancellor, and 
 he says, " Near St. Albans, which must not now be whis- 
 pered in the ear," — his only special allusion to Bacon; 
 yet he will be found to indulge in moralizings on the 
 evils of his day, some of which may have been sug- 
 gested by the frailty of Bacon himself. 
 
 "To see so much difference," he lamentingly says, 
 "betwixt words and deeds, so many parasangs betwixt 
 tongue and heart. . . . Men give good precepts to 
 others, soar aloft, while they themselves grovel on the 
 ground. . . . To see a man bend all his forces, means, 
 time, fortune, to be a favorite's favorite's favorite." 
 
 Then, in painting his model commonwealth, he pro- 
 tests against such patents as those which Bacon, as 
 the first law officer of the crown, did not at least protest 
 against, nor try and reform until their existence became 
 so obnoxious to the people as to become dangerous to 
 the King, the favorite, their advisers, agents and friends. 
 "I will have no private monopolies to enrich one man 
 and beggar a multitude," exclaims old Burton. Yet 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 1 79 
 
 Bacon apologetically saying, " I may be frail and par- 
 take of the abuses of the times," before admitting his 
 guilt, suggests this defense ; and his apologists assume 
 that public sentiment regarded his acceptance of gifts 
 as the customary thing, and as venial. 
 
 His own opinion and precepts answer and refute 
 these apologists. He could not have been ignorant of 
 the virtues or vices of his predecessors. We have 
 seen how he was acquainted with the integrity of Sir 
 Thomas More. In his "Essay on Great Place" he 
 thus advises: — 
 
 " In the discharge of the place set before thee the best 
 examples, for imitation is a globe of precepts ; and after a 
 time set before thee thine own example, and examine thyself 
 strictly, whether thou dost not best at first. Neglect not, 
 also, the examples of tliose that have carried themselves ill 
 in the same place; not to set oH thyself by taxing their 
 memory, but to direct thyself what to avoid." 
 
 Let us compare this precept with a paragraph from 
 one of his letters to Buckingham, — the one from the 
 Tower, dated May 31st, 1621, in which he refers to his 
 service to King and favorite, and says of himself fur- 
 ther that : — 
 
 "Howsoever, I acknowledge the sentence just, and for 
 reformation sake, fit, the justest chancellor that hath been 
 in the five changes since Sir Nicholas Bacon's time." 
 
 Did he really follow the honest example of his honest 
 father? His confession says no. Did he shun the evil 
 examples of his five immediate predecessors? The 
 same voice gives the same answer. Does he set off 
 himself by taxing their memory? He assuredly does in 
 
l8o FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 the very face of his precept. Again, the moral quality 
 of an official, be he Lord Chancellor or a constable, 
 which office Southampton declared Bacon to be unfit to 
 fill, — not in the spirit of anger or revenge, but in that 
 of honorable, righteous indignation, — the moral quality 
 of a servant of a government, a trustee of a people, 
 accepting gifts from persons who have private interests 
 depending on their official action, is well deiined by 
 Bacon in his "model commonwealth,'' the "New 
 Atlantis." 
 
 An imaginary voyage is made by Bacon and others, 
 and they were driven by storm into an unknown part of 
 the South Sea. They came upon a land peopled by a 
 strange race, in an advanced stage of moral and mate- 
 rial civilization. Their ship was visited by officials, one 
 of whom came aboard with a servant. They conversed 
 in the Spanish tongue with the officer. He came to 
 inquire into and relieve their necessities, and went away, 
 leaving the servant behind : — 
 
 " We offered some reward in pistolets unto the servant, 
 and a piece of crimson velvet to be presented to the officer; 
 but the servant took them not, nor would scarce look upon 
 them." 
 
 Subsequently another official visited their ship: — 
 
 " When we offered him some pistolets he smilingly said 
 he ' must not be twice paid for one labor,' meaning, as I take 
 it, that he had a salary sufficient of the State for his service. 
 For as I afterwards learned, they called an officer that taketh 
 rewards. Twice-paid." 
 
 Are we to believe that Bacon ever meant to maintain 
 that a bad example made a good imitator ; that multi- 
 
HIS LIFE Al^D CHARACTER. l8l 
 
 plying official corruption purified it; that he was the 
 less guilty because many before him and around him 
 were equally so ? 
 
 Indeed, he does not deserve as broad a charity as 
 they merit. He was a profound thinker and writer 
 upon moral, social and political subjects. He was a 
 historian, and well informed as to the lives of England's 
 kings, their favorites, advisers and servants. He was a 
 teacher of kings, favorites, advisers and subjects. 
 Truth and honesty belong to no age. Morality and its 
 precepts were as familiar to Bacon as they are to us. 
 He was the exponent of them with his pen to his own 
 age, as he is to our age. Summon him to the bar of 
 his own immortal sayings and teachings, and he must 
 be condemned out of his own mouth. Where is there 
 a segment upon which an apologist can stand in this 
 sentence, which is the circle he draws around a public 
 servant ? 
 
 " For corruption do not only bind thine own hands or thy 
 servant's hands from taking, but bind the hands of suitors 
 from offering; for integrity used doth the one, but integrity 
 professed, and with a manifest detestation of bribery, doth 
 the other; and avoid not only the fault, but the suspicion." 
 
 But, after having frankly admitted that, in the pursuit 
 of office, and in the execution of one office as a step- 
 ping-stone to another, he was guilty of offenses which 
 would have degraded an ordinary man, which were 
 doubly degrading in his case, there is enough of the 
 true, the good, the beautiful, the strong, about him and 
 his works to command our admiration and veneration. 
 
 In private life he was gentle and unselfish. Gener- 
 osity to his immediate friends and followe_rs, and an 
 
iSz FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 indulgence in his taste for building, landscape garden- 
 ing, ornamentation of his homes, dress, pomp and hos- 
 pitality, crippled his fortunes and opened the channel 
 to corruption. 
 
 In public affairs he was laborious, progressive, broad- 
 minded and patriotic, when his moral and intellectual 
 vision was not blinded by a place or the prospect of a 
 place. 
 
 Of his eloquence, Ben Jonson has left this flattering 
 account : " The fear of every man that heard Iiim was 
 lest he should make an end." Living in an age of 
 church controversy, he was conservative in his opinions 
 and charitable in his judgments. 
 
 James Howell, whose bright and clever letters have 
 probably entertained the reader, was a contemporary, 
 and a great Church of England man. He illustrates 
 the prevailing sectarian sentiment of the time: — 
 
 " Difference of opinion," he says, " may work a disaffec- 
 tion in me, but not a detestation. I rather pity than hate 
 Turk or infidel. If I hate any, it is those schismatics who 
 puzzle the sweet peace of our church, so that I would be 
 content to see an Anabaptist go to hell on a Brownist's 
 back." 
 
 In striking contrast are Bacon's sentiments: — 
 
 "God grant," he exclaims, "that we may contend with 
 other churches, as the vine with the olive, which of us shall 
 bear the first fruit; and not as the briar with the thistle, 
 which of us is most unprofitable." 
 
 The lawyers of that day were as bigoted as the 
 churchmen. Littleton was their god and Coke was his 
 prophet. Here is a picture of the mass, drawn by the 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 183 
 
 pen of a contemporary, to which, however, neither Coke 
 nor Bacon belonged: — 
 
 "A purse-milking nation, a clamorous company, gowned 
 vultures ; they take upon them to make peace, but are indeed 
 the very disturbers of our peace. I mean our common 
 hungry pettifoggers. I love and honor, in the meantime, all 
 good laws and worthy lawyers, that are so many oracles and 
 pilots of a well-governed commonwealth."* 
 
 It was the narrow-mindedness of the legal profession 
 which made it distasteful to Bacon. It distributed its 
 rewards too often to ignorance and impudence, and the 
 fonun was an arena of wild beasts, of whom Sir Edward 
 Coke was king, because he towered so far above them. 
 His antipathy and antagonism towards Bacon were due, 
 probably, to the fact that he recognized in the timid 
 philosopher the germ of a lawyer far greater than 
 himself. 
 
 To Bacon, law was not a system of unchangeable 
 rules, but a science capable of beneficent develop- 
 ment. He contracted his vision to the smallness 
 of its details, and dilated it to embrace its great possi- 
 bilities. To his mind "precedents," as was said by his 
 favorite disciple, Hobbes, "showed only what was done, 
 not what was well done." And this spirit of investiga- 
 tion and independence made him the first great reformer 
 of English jurisprudence. 
 
 As a statesman he was eminently progressive, in wish 
 and intention. Reference has been made to reforms 
 which he espoused, but which were not accomplished 
 for centuries. 
 
 "The knowledge of a lawyer is one and of a law- 
 
 ♦Democritus to the Reader. 
 
184 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 maker is another," he says ; and while Coke and others 
 were clinging to what was, whose only excuse for being 
 was that it had been, he was contemplating, digesting 
 and improving the whole system. Among his greatest 
 efforts and most earnest schemes were the union of 
 England and Scotland, and the assimilation or absorp- 
 tion of the ever-unhappy Irishmen, always vibrating 
 between misgovernment and rebellion, suffering from 
 tyranny or famine, who then, as now, deemed " Boycot- 
 ting" the only efficient method to insure political 
 freedom and good potato crops. 
 
 "The harp of Ireland," says Bacon, "is not tuned to 
 harmony. Blessed with the dowries of nature, it is a 
 desolate and neglected country." And he suggested 
 measures, which, had they been adopted, would have 
 centuries ago assured prosperity to a land and people 
 who have so long been in the slough of adversity. 
 
 Called upon to solve the problem which Bacon's 
 character presents, to account for actions which cannot 
 be reconciled with the expressed sentiments of the 
 man, the mind is embarrassed by the inconsistencies 
 presented. 
 
 In the light of his writings he had one great aim — 
 the good of mankind; in the light of his career one 
 little aim — the good of Francis Bacon. 
 
 He was at one and the same time the most selfish 
 and the most philanthropic of men, the most timid and 
 most fearless. His selfishness inspired him to prose- 
 cute a benefactor and defame his memory, to flatter a 
 pedantic king and serve a corrupt favorite. 
 
 His philanthropy inspired him to confront the errors 
 of centuries, to drag idols from shrines guarded by a 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 185 
 
 militant priesthood, to emancipate from intellectual 
 stagnation the Anglo-Saxon mind, and to lead it from 
 its metaphysical monastery into the highways of life, 
 into the fields of busy and fruitful investigation and 
 experiment. Bacon was not the inventor of the induc- 
 tive method, he was the missionary of its application ; 
 he accomplished nothing with it himself, but he liber- 
 ated the English mind from a fruitless school, a nar- 
 row path, a limited horizon, and suggested possibilities 
 to the disciples of free thought and original investigation. 
 His good intentions were marred by making his theory 
 one of " Idols," which he deprecates. He condemned 
 Aristotle, Copernicus, and all philosophers, methods 
 and theories, but himself and his own scheme. He 
 is not credited by modems with a philosophy, or with 
 carrying out his theory to a successful issue. He treats 
 of the reform and progress of science, and the classifica- 
 tion of knowledge, with a view to systemization. But 
 he accomplished no practical result as a scientist and 
 philosopher in any special department of science and 
 philosophy. What he did effect was this : he enlisted 
 other minds in the great field of practical science. At 
 a critical period in the intellectual movement of his 
 age he appeared as the missionary of the great idea 
 that God has clothed men with powers whose proper 
 exercise contributes to the social and material well- 
 being of the human race. He said to men, there are 
 a thousand channels which lead to the paradise of your 
 hopes j if you will only bend your faculties to the 
 discovery, you will find them. 
 
 There are two sentences in his writings which define 
 what Bacon aimed at and accomplished. In the intro- 
 duction to his "Great Instauration " he says: — 
 
l86 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 " It appears to me that men know not either their acquire- 
 ments or powers, and trust too much to the former and too 
 little to the latter." 
 
 And in his "Advancement of Learning" he says: — 
 
 "Disciples do owe unto masters a temporary belief, and a 
 suspension of their judgments until they be fully instructed, 
 and not an absolute resignation and perpetual captivity." 
 
 If there is a Baconian philosophy, these are the 
 Alpha and Omega of it. They mean intellectual eman- 
 cipation, free thought, free inquiry. And for his 
 example and teachings in this respect we cannot be too 
 grateful. For any man who leads the hiraian mind into 
 new paths, or from an old path, is a benefactor ; for out 
 of the very errors of courageous inquirers come enlight- 
 enment, truth and benefit. 
 
 Yet Dr. Draper, in his " Intellectual Development of 
 Europe," says: — 
 
 " It is true that the sacred name of philosophy should be 
 severed from its long connection with that of one who was 
 a pretender in science, a time-serving politician, an insidious 
 lawyer, a corrupt judge, a treacherous friend, a bad man." 
 
 But the lawyer who reads his law tracts must 
 acknowledge that the English-speaking profession of 
 this last quarter of the 19th century are indebted to him 
 for much that is good in our jurisprudence, while they 
 cannot also help recognizing him as having possessed 
 the wisdom and the true spirit of a reformer. The 
 statesman and politician cannot lay aside his political 
 tracts without being confirmed in the opinion that he 
 understood the philosophy of government, and inter- 
 preted its vital principles with the clearness of sunlight. 
 
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 187 
 
 Judges can sit at his feet and learn to perform their 
 functions as all should, and few do, perform them. The 
 sectarian can learn from his controversial tracts the 
 lesson of charity. 
 
 And no man can read his popular works without 
 meeting with some thought which is worth preserving, 
 some lesson worth learning. In accounting for his 
 moral frailty we should not forget that he was the favor- 
 ite son of an influential fatlaer; was reared in com- 
 parative affluence ; was encouraged to cultivate his great 
 natural gifts for enlistment in the advancement of 
 knowledge and the agreeable service of his country. 
 
 His father's intention to secure him a competency 
 was known ; his father's ability to secure him prefer- 
 ment was undoubted ; employment by the State seemed 
 a hereditary right. But that father's death substituted 
 a hopeless blank in the place of brilliant prospects, and 
 the sanguine youth was confronted not only with com- 
 parative poverty, but with powerful friends transfonned 
 into oppressors. He was panic-stricken when he failed 
 to receive the support and patronage which he had a 
 right to expect ; yet having fastened his gaze on a place 
 at court, his eyes rarely turned from the anxious 
 prospect. 
 
 While waiting for preferment he wasted his small 
 patrimony, extravagant tastes became habits, his pro- 
 fession was distasteful, and he kept borrowing and 
 spending, imtil he began to trade his manhood for 
 office. At last 
 
 " He was cursed and stigmatized by power, ' 
 And raised to be exposed." 
 
 The rest has been related. If we pay to his memory 
 
l88 FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 the tribute of respect, we are compelled to shut out that 
 part of his life which preceded his retirement from 
 public service, and follow him after his re-assumption 
 of the student's and writer's mantle. If we confine our 
 judgments to his writings, then must we bow before the 
 scholar, lawyer, reformer, statesman, moralist and 
 philosopher. 
 
FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 ESSAYS AND EXTRACTS. 
 
ESSAYS.* 
 
 OF TRUTH, t 
 
 What is truth? said jesting Pilate; and would not stay 
 for an answer. Certainly there be that delight in giddiness ; 
 and count it a bondage to fix a belief; f affecting § free-will 
 in thinking, as well as in acting. And though the sects of 
 philosophers of that kind be gone, yet there remain certain 
 discoursing || wits, which are of the same veins, though there 
 be not so much blood in them as was in those of the 
 ancients. But it is not only the difficulty and labour which 
 inen take in finding out of truth, nor again, that when it is 
 
 • " Bacon's Essays are the best-known and most popular of all 
 
 is works. It is also one of those where the superiority of his 
 f^enius appears to the greatest advantage ; the novelty and depth 
 ,bf his reflections often receiving a strong relief from the triteness 
 jof the subject. It may be read from beginning to end in a few 
 hours ; and yet, after the twentieth perusal, one seldom fails to 
 remark in it something unobserved before. This indeed is a 
 characteristic of all Bacon's writings, and only to be accounted 
 for by the inexhaustible aliment they furnish to our own thoughts, 
 and the sympathetic activity they impart to our torpid faculties." 
 — Dugald Stewart. 
 
 t "What is truth?" — St. John, xviii., 38. 
 
 This essay embraces in its scope theological, philosophical and 
 civil, or social, truth. 
 
 X The sects referred to are probably those skeptical schools 
 founded by Heraclitus and his followers. 
 
 § Affect. To love, be fond of. 
 
 II Discoursing. Some commentators say this word is used in gf 
 the sense of discursive; i. e. roving, unsettled. It may also me- 
 discussing, debating, arguing. 
 
192 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 found, it imposeth upon men's thoughts, that doth bring lies 
 in favor, but a natural though corrupt love of the lie itself. 
 One of the later schools of the Grecians examineth the 
 matter, and is at a stand to think what should be in it, that 
 men should love lies ; where neither they make for pleasure, 
 as with poets ;* nor for advantage, as with the merchant, but 
 for the lie's sake. But I cannot tell : this same truth is a 
 naked and open daylight, that doth not show the masques, 
 and mummeries, and triumphs of the world, half so stately 
 and daintily as candle-lights. Truth may perhaps come to 
 the price of a pearl, that showeth best by day, but it will not 
 rise to the price of a diamond or carbuncle, that showeth 
 best in varied lights. A mixture of a lie f doth ever add 
 pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that if there were taken out 
 of men's minds, vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valua- 
 tions, imaginations as one would, J and the like, but it would 
 leave the minds of a number of men, poor shrunken things, 
 full of melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to them^ 
 selves ? One of the fathers, in great severity, called poesy 
 " vinum dcemonum!'' § because it filleth the imagination,, 
 and yet it is but with the shadow of a lie. But it is not th^ 
 lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh 
 in, and settleth in it, that doth the hurt, such as we spake of 
 before. But howsoever these things are thus in men's 
 depraved judgments and affections, yet truth, which only 
 doth judge itself, teacheth, that the inquiry of truth, which 
 
 * Byron thinks that "there should always be some foundation 
 for the most airy fabric," and adds that " pure invention is but 
 the talent of a liar." — Letter to Mr. Murray. 1817. 
 
 t Bacon uses the word lie with its- two meanings: ist. As a 
 culpable breach of truth. 2d. As the embodiment of a poet's 
 imagination. 
 
 " The truth is moral, though the tale's a \ie." — Dryden. 
 
 X As one would. Used for wisk. 
 
 § " Wine of demons," used by St. Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, 
 th Africa. A. D. 4th cent. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 
 
 193 
 
 is the love-making, or wooing of it, tlie knowledge of truth, 
 which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is 
 the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature. 
 The first creature of God, in the works of the days, was the 
 light of the sense : the last was the light of reason ; and His 
 Sabbath work ever since, is the illumination of His Spirit. 
 First, He breathed liglit upon the face of the matter, or 
 chaos; then He breathed hght into the face of man; and 
 still He breatheth and inspireth light into the face of His 
 chosen. The poet that beautified the sect, * that was other- 
 wise inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well : " It is a 
 pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to see ships tossed 
 upon the sea : a pleasure to stand in the window of a castle, 
 d to see a battle, and the adventures thereof below : but 
 ileasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage 
 d of truth," (a hill not to be commanded, and where 
 •s always clear and serene,) " and to see the errors, 
 derings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale 
 so always that this prospect be with pity, and not 
 ^ or pride. Certainly, it is Heaven upon Earth, 
 s mind move in charity, rest in Providence, 
 e poles of truth. 
 
 p iheological and philosophical truth, to the 
 
 wDusiness, it will be acknowledged even by 
 
 , practice it not, that clean and round dealing is the 
 
 ^r of man's nature, and that mixture of falsehood is like 
 
 -lOy in coin of gold and silver, which may make the metal 
 
 work the better, but it embaseth it. For these winding and 
 
 crooked courses are the goings of the serpent ; which goeth 
 
 * The poet meant is Lucretius ; the sect the Epicureans. 
 
 t This is not the literal translation. Bacon rarely confines him- 
 self closely to the original text, adopting Boileau's rule that " a 
 good writer will rather imitate than translate, and rather emulate 
 than imitate." 
 
 "The basis of all excellence is truth." — Dr. Johnson's Life of 
 Cowley. 
 
 G 
 
ig^ FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 basely upon the belly, and not upon the feet. There is no 
 vice that doth so cover a man with shame as to be found 
 false and perfidious ; and therefore Montaigne saith prettily, 
 when he inquired the reason, why the word of the lie should 
 be such a disgrace, and such an odious charge, saith he, 
 " If it be well weighed, to say that a man lieth, is as much as 
 to say, that he is brave towards God, and a coward towards 
 men. For a lie faces God, and shrinks from man." Surely 
 the wickedness of falsehood, and breach of faith cannot pos- 
 sibly be so highly expressed, as in that it shall be the last 
 peal to call the judgments of God upon the generations of 
 men : it being foretold, that when " Christ cometh," He shall 
 not " find faith upon the earth." 
 
 OF DEATH.* 
 
 Men fear death, as children fear to go in the dark ; and as 
 that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the 
 other. Certainly, the contemplation of death, as the wages 
 
 * Death is the inevitable lot of fool and philosopher, and noth- 
 ing distinguishes the one from the other more clearly than their 
 respective ways of contemplating the end of life. The approach 
 of death is in the majority of cases cognizable ; but whether or no, 
 in instances other than those of death by violence or necessarily 
 painful symptoms, the experience of dying is accompanied by 
 physical anguish, no man can say; whether or no there is even 
 mental consciousness contemporaneous with the act of dying is a 
 problem. Who can tell what is seen, felt or heard during the 
 minutes or moments preceding dissolution .' The organs of sen- 
 sation grow duller and duller as the end approaches ; the placid 
 face does not reflect the grief-tortured countenances surrounding 
 it; the silent lips do not echo the sighs of sorrow; the nerveless 
 and cold-growing hand does not return the warm pressure of affec- 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 
 
 I9S 
 
 of sin, and passage to another world, is holy and religious ; 
 but the fear of it, as a tribute due unto Nature, is weak. 
 Yet in religious meditations, there is sometimes mixture of 
 
 lion's lingering farewell; no response is made to the anxious 
 gaze, as 
 
 "Unto dying eyes 
 The casement slowly grows a glimmering square." 
 
 — Tennyson, '* The Princess}* 
 
 To the God-loving, to Virtue's votary who feels, as Shelley 
 beautifully expresses it, the ecstatic and exultant throb when he 
 sums up the thoughts and actions of well-spent days, 
 
 "There is no death ; what seems so is transition. 
 This life of mortal-breath 
 Is but a suburb of the life elysian. 
 Whose portal we call death." 
 
 — Longfellow^ 
 
 " I thank God I never was afraid of hell. I have so fixed my 
 contemplation on Heaven that I have almost forgot the idea of 
 hell, and am afraid rather to lose the joys of one than endure the 
 misery of the other. I fear God, yet am not afraid of Him ; His 
 mercies make me ashamed of my sins, before His judgments 
 afraid thereof. I can hardly think there was ever any scared into 
 Heaven ; they go the fairest way to Heaven that would serve God 
 without hell." — Religio Medici. LII. 
 
 The essay points to the surroundings of death as giving it 
 an artificial terror, and as more dreadful to confront than death 
 itself ; hence we find Rochefoucauld saying, " Let us hope more 
 from our constitutions than from those feeble reasonings which 
 would make us believe that we can approach death with indiffer- 
 ence.'' Byron, who was evidently an admirer, and to some extent 
 a disciple, of the French philosopher, writes to Moore that "a 
 death-bed is a matter of nerves and constitution, and not of reli- 
 gion J " and in " Mazeppa " he gives the thought poetic form : — 
 
 *' Save the future, which is viewed 
 ^.^^^^ Not quite as men' are bad or good, 
 
 But as their nerves may be endued." 
 
 " The preservation of life,'' says Addison, " should be only a 
 
Iq6 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 vanity and of superstition. You shall read in some of the 
 friars' boolcs of mortification, that a man should think with 
 himself, wliat the pain is, if he have but his finger's end 
 pressed or tortured ; and thereby imagine what the pains of 
 death are, when the whole body is corrupted and dissolved ; 
 when many times death passeth with less pain than the tor- 
 ture of a limb : for the most vital parts are not the quickest 
 of sense. And by him that spake only as a philosopher, and 
 natural man, it was well said, " Pompa mortis magis terret, 
 quam mors ipsa." * Groans and convulsions, and a dis- 
 colored face, and friends weeping, and blacks and obse- 
 quies, and the like, show death terrible. It is worthy the 
 observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man so 
 weak, but it mates and masters the fear of death ; and there- 
 fore death is no such terrible enemy when a man hath so 
 many attendants about him that can win the combat of him. 
 Revenge triumphs over death ; love slights it; honor aspir- 
 eth to it ; grief fiieth to it ; fear preoccupateth it : nay, we 
 read, after Otho the emperor had slain himself, pity (which 
 is the tenderest of affections) provoked many to die out of 
 mere compassion to their sovereign, and as the truest sort 
 of followers. Nay, Seneca adds, niceness and satiety: 
 " Cogita quamdiu eadem feceris; mori velle, non tantum 
 fortis, aut miser, sed etiam fastidiosus potest." f A man 
 would die, though he were neither valiant nor miserable, 
 only upon a weariness to do the same thing so oft over and 
 
 secondary concern, and the direction of it our principal. If we 
 have this frame of mind, we shall take the best means to preserve 
 life, without being over-solicitous about the event, and shall arrive 
 at the point of felicity which Martial has mentioned as the perfec- 
 tion of happiness, of neither fearing nor wishing for death." — 
 Spectator. 
 
 * " The surroundings of a death-bed strike more terror than 
 death itself." — Seneca. 
 
 t " Consider how often you do the same things. A. man may be 
 willing to die, not because he is brave or miserable, but simply 
 because he is tired of living." 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 197 
 
 over.* It is no less worthy to observe, how little alteration 
 in good . spirits the approaches of death make : for they 
 appear to be the same men till the last instant. Augustus 
 Cassar died in a compliment ; " Lima, conjugii nostri memor, 
 vvve et vale^ f Tiberius in dissimulation, as Tacitus saith 
 of him, "Jam Tiberiunt vires et corpus, non dissimulatio, 
 deserebant :" X Vespasian in a jest, sitting upon the stool, 
 " Ut puto Deusfio : " § Galba with a sentence, "Feri, si ex 
 re sit populi Romani" \ holding forth his neck: Septimus 
 Severus in despatch: " Adeste, si quid mihi restat agen- 
 dum " If and the like. Certainly the Stoics bestowed too 
 much cost upon death, and by their great preparations made 
 it appear more fearful. Better, saith he, " qui Jinetn vitce 
 extremum inter munera ponit natum."** It is as natural to 
 die as to be born ; and to a little infant, perhaps, the one is 
 as painful as the other. He that dies in an earnest pursuit, 
 is like one that is wounded in hot blood; who, for the time, 
 scarce feels the hurt ; and therefore a mind fixed and bent 
 upon somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolours of death ; 
 
 * " When a]l the blandishments of life are gone. 
 The coward sneaks to death, the brave live on." 
 
 — Dr. Jno. Sewell,/rom Martial. 
 
 " It is a brave act of valour to contemn death ; but when life is 
 more terrible than death, it is then the truest valour to dare to 
 live." — Religio Medici. 
 
 t " Livia, mindful of our union, live on, and farewell ;'' i, e. I dwell 
 in my last moments on our harmonious married life, and wish you 
 a long life, and bid you an affectionate good bye. 
 
 " ' Caesar Augustus died in a compliment.' ' I hope it was a 
 sincere one,' said my Uncle Toby. ' 'Twas to his wife,' replied 
 my father." — Tristram Shandy. V. 4. 
 
 % " His strength and vitality were now leaving Tiberius, but not 
 his duplicity." 
 
 § "I am becoming a god, I suspect," said he, in a rebuking 
 sneer to his flatterers. 
 
 II " Strike, if it is for the good of the Roman people." 
 
 IT " Hurry, if anything remains for me to do." 
 
 ** " Who looks upon death as one of nature's blessings." 
 
igS FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 but, above all, believe it, the sweetest canticle is "Nunc 
 dimittis " * when a man hath obtained worthy ends and 
 expectations. Death hath this also, that it openeth the 
 gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy: " Extinctus 
 amabitur idem" \ 
 
 OF REVENGE. 
 
 Revenge is a kind of wild justice, which the more man's 
 nature runs to, the more ought law to weed it out: for as 
 for the first wrong, it doth but offend the law, but the 
 revenge of that wrong putteth the law out of office. % Cer- 
 tainly, in taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy ; 
 but in passing it over, he is superior ; for it is a prince's part 
 to pardon : and Solomon, I am sure, saith, " It is the glory 
 
 * " Now, dismiss us,'' or " me." 
 
 t " The same man will be loved, though dead." 
 
 One of the fathers saith "that there is but this difference 
 between the death of old men and young men : that old men go 
 to death, and death comes to young men." — Bacon's Apothegms. 
 
 X " The use of the law," says Bacon, in his treatise on that sub- 
 ject, " consisteth principally in these three things : 1. To secure 
 men's persons from death and violence. 2. To dispose the prop- 
 erty of their goods and lands. 3. For preservation of their good 
 names from shame and infamy." Until law was enacted and 
 enforced, there was no settled society or established government. 
 Each man was a law unto himself, and according to his ability 
 secured for himself the benefits which society and government 
 secure for us. The law protects a right or redresses a wrong; but 
 before there was law, a man redressed his wrong by inflicting an 
 equal or greater injury upon one who wronged him. In society 
 and under government this kind of setting things to rights, this 
 individual assumption of the authority of government, is very for- 
 cibly credited with an offense greater than law-breaking, i. e. put- 
 ting the law out of office, which if practiced unchecked in any 
 society would result in anarchy and reduce that society back to a 
 state of nature. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 
 
 199 
 
 of a man to pass by an offense." That which is past is gone 
 and irrecoverable, and wise men have enough to do with 
 things present and to come ; therefore they do but trifle with 
 themselves, that labour in past matters. There is no man 
 doth a wrong for the wrong's sake, but thereby to purchase 
 himself profit, or pleasure, or honour, or the like ; therefore 
 why should I be angry with a man for loving himself better 
 than me ? And if any man should do wrong, merely out of 
 ill-nature, why, yet it is but like the thorn or briar, which 
 prick and scratch, because they can do no other. The most 
 tolerable sort of revenge is for those wrongs which there is 
 no law to remedy ; but then, let a man take heed the revenge 
 be such as there is no law to punish, else a man's enemy is 
 still beforehand, and it is two for one. Some, when they 
 take revenge, are desirous the party should know whence it 
 Cometh : this is the more generous ; for the delight seemeth 
 to be not so much in doing the hurt as in making the party 
 repent : but base and crafty cowards are like the arrow that 
 flieth in the dark. Cosmus, * Duke of Florence, had a des- 
 perate saying against perfidious or neglecting friends, as if 
 those wrongs were unpardonable. " You shall read," saith 
 he, " that we are commanded to forgive our enemies, but 
 you never read that we are commanded to forgive our 
 friends." But yet the spirit of Job was in a better tune : 
 " Shall we," saith he, " take good at God's hands, and not 
 be content to take evil also ? " and so of friends in a pro- 
 portion. This is certain, that a man that studieth revenge, 
 keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal 
 
 * Cosmo de Medici, patron of art and literature at Florence, 
 head of the Florentine Republic, A. D., 1 389-1 464. Sidney Smith 
 takes a wiser and more charitable stand towards neglecting friends 
 when he says: "True, it is most painful not to meet the kindness 
 and affection you feel you have deserved and have a right to expect 
 from others ; but it is a mistake to complain of it, for it is of no 
 use; you ca«not extort friendship with a cocked pistol." — 
 Memoirs. 
 
200 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 and do well. Public revenges * are for the most part fortu- 
 nate ; as that for the death of Caesar ; f for the death of 
 Pertinax ; for the death of Henry the Third of France ; and 
 many more. But in private revenges it is not so ; nay, 
 rather vindictive persons live the life of witches ; who, as 
 they are mischievous, so end they unfortunate. 
 
 OF ADVERSITY.* 
 
 It was a high speech of Seneca (after the manner of the 
 Stoics), that the good things which belong to prosperity 
 are to be wished, but the good things that belong to adver- 
 sity are to be admired: — "Bona rerum secundaruvi opta- 
 bilia, adversarum mirabilia." Certainly, if miracles be the 
 
 * The spirit of resentment is commoner than that of revenge ; 
 the one is a sudden passion, the other a prolonged enmity. A 
 French philosopher says that men are as prone to forget injuries 
 as they are to forget benefits, because the constant study to either 
 avenge evil or recompense good appears to them a slavery, to 
 which they find it difficult to submit. 
 
 t Revenges here mean vindications by punishment. 
 
 " Thus the whirligig of Time brings in his revenges.*' 
 
 —Shakespeare's " Twelfth Night." Act. v., sc. I. 
 
 Revenge is the earmark of savage condition and nature, as 
 magnanimity of soul or gentleness of heart is that of culture, piety 
 and civilization. Revenge is the nurse of anarchy in the State, 
 forgiveness the bond of harmony in the family. 
 
 " How happy might we be, and end our time with blessed days 
 and sweet content, if we could contain ourselves, and, as we 
 ought to do, put up injuries, learn humility, meekness, patience, 
 forget and iorgnc" — Burton' s "Anatomy of Melancholy." 
 
 t This essay first appeared in the edition of 1625. The author 
 had experienced the extremes of good and bad fortune. He had 
 sinned, suffered and repented, and wrote as much from the heart 
 as from the head. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 
 
 201 
 
 command over nature, they appear most in adversity. It 
 is yet a higher speech of his than the other (much too high 
 for a heathen, *) " It is true greatness to have in one the 
 frailty of a man, and the security of a god; " — " Vere mag- 
 num habere fragilitatem homtnis, securitatem dei." This 
 would have done better in poesy, where transcendencies are 
 more allowed ; and the poets, indeed, have been busy with 
 it; for it is in effect the thing which is figured in that 
 strange fiction of the ancient poets, which seemeth not to be 
 without mystery ; nay, and to have some approach to the 
 state of a Christian, "that Hercules, when he went to 
 unbind Prometheus (by whom human nature is represented), 
 sailed the length of the great ocean in an earthen pot or 
 pitcher, lively describing Christian resolution, that saileth in 
 the frail bark of the flesh through the waves of the world." 
 
 * " Much too high for a heathen." This parenthetical sneer is 
 surprising, coming from Bacon, who was so familiar with the far- 
 reaching thoughts and lofty aspirations of philosophers, to whom 
 neither the light of the law — the Old Testament, — nor the light 
 of the promise — the New Testament, — had come. 
 
 St. Paul, Romans ii., 14, i J, regarded the heathen with different 
 eyes, and confronts the Gentile with the light of nature and its 
 corollary, moral responsibility. " For when the Gentiles, which 
 have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, 
 those having not the law are a law unto themselves ; which show 
 the work of the law written in their hearts." It was the bigoted 
 theologian who summarily disposed of those to whom Moses and 
 the prophets never spoke — to whom the promise of the cross 
 never came. 
 
 Old Sir Thomas Brown quaintly, plaintively yet dubiously 
 appeals from the narrowness of man's judgment to the broadness 
 of God's justice : " There is no salvation to those that believe 
 not in Christ; that is, say some, since his nativity, and, as divinity 
 afBrmeth, before, also; which makes me much apprehend the end 
 of those honest worthies and philosophers which died before his 
 incarnation. It is hard to place those souls in hell whose worthy 
 lives do teach us virtue on earth. Methinks among those many 
 subdivisions there might have been some limbo left for them." 
 
202 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 But, to speak in a mean, the virtue of prosperity is temper- 
 ance, the virtue of adversity is fortitude, which in morals is 
 the more heroical virtue. Prosperity is the blessing of the 
 Old Testament, adversity is the blessing of the New, which 
 carrieth the greater benediction, and the clearer revelation 
 of God's favour. Yet even in the Old Testament, if you 
 listen to David's harp, you shall hear as many hearse-lilce 
 airs as carols; and the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath 
 labored more in describing the afflictions of Job than the 
 felicities of Solomon. Prosperity is not without many fears 
 and distastes; and adversity is not without comforts and 
 hopes. We see in needleworks and embroideries, it is more 
 pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad and solemn 
 ground, than to have a dark and melancholy work upon a 
 lightsome ground : judge, therefore, of the pleasure of the 
 heart by the pleasure of the eye. 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. 
 
 OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 
 
 The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and 
 fears ; they cannot utter the one, nor they will not utter the 
 other. Children sweeten labours, but they make misfor- 
 tunes more bitter : they increase the cares of life, but they 
 mitigate the remembrance of f death. The perpetuity by 
 
 * Among Bacon's " Apothegms " we find the following : " Mr. 
 Bettenham said that virtuous men were like herbs and spices that 
 give not their sweet smell till they be broken and crushed." 
 
 t Bacon was himself childless, and does not speak with the 
 same authority on this subject as on those where his experience 
 supplemented observation. When, in this essay, he extends his 
 observation beyond the close relation of parent and child, and 
 generalizes, his opinions, in all probability, meet with less antago- 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 203 
 
 generation is common to beasts ; but memory, merit, and 
 noble worlts, are proper to men : and surely a man shall 
 see the noblest works and foundations * have proceeded 
 from childless men, which have sought to express the 
 images of their minds, where those of their bodies have 
 failed ; so the care of posterity is most in them that have 
 no posterity. They that are the first raisers of their houses 
 are most indulgent towards their children, beholding them 
 as the continuance, not only of their kind, but of their work ; 
 and so both children and creatures. 
 
 The difference in affection of parents towards their sev- 
 eral children, is many times unequal, and sometimes unwor- 
 thy, especially in the mother; as Solomon saith, "A wise 
 son rejoiceth the father, but an ungracious son shames the 
 mother.'' A man shall see, where there is a house full of 
 children, one or two of the eldest respected, and the young- 
 est made wantons ; f but in the midst some that are as it 
 
 nism. Thus, when he deprecates the breeding of jealous emula- 
 tion, he addresses himself to the relation of brothers and sisters ; 
 the same sound doctrine is applicable to the relation of school- 
 mates ; and when he advises the parent to determine for the child 
 its life pursuit, he enters the arena of the social philosopher and 
 pedagogue. 
 
 Remembrance here means the notice of something absent. 
 
 "Let your remembraDCc still apply to Banquo." — Shakespeare. 
 
 Probably its use is explained in the last sentence of this para- 
 graph. The first raisers of houses, /. e. families of rank, do not 
 look upon their inevitable death as destructive of their life-work ; 
 and although, while indulging in self-gratulation, they recall or 
 remember that they, too, shall surely die, the idea is softened by 
 beholding in their children their successors who will perpetuate 
 their name. 
 
 * Foundations, meaning establishments of a charitable kind. 
 Pope speaks of the wealth of the childish miser : — 
 
 " Or wanders, heaven-directed, to the poor." 
 
 t Wantons, i. e. spoiled children. 
 
204 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 were forgotten, who, many times, nevertheless, prove the 
 best. The illiberality of parents, in allowance towards their 
 children, is an harmful error, and makes them base ; acquaints 
 them with shifts; makes them sort* with mean company; 
 and makes them surfeit more when they come to plenty : 
 and therefore the proof is best when men keep their author- 
 ity towards their children, but not their purse. Men have 
 a foolish manner (both parents, and schoolmasters, and ser- 
 vants), in creating and breeding an emulation between 
 brothers during childhood, which many times sorteth to 
 discord when they are men, and disturbeth families. The 
 Italians make little difference between children and 
 nephews, or near kinsfolk; but, so they be of the lump, they 
 care not, though they pass not through their own body ; and, 
 to say truth, in nature it is much a like matter ; insomuch 
 that we see a nephew sometimes resembleth an uncle, or a 
 kinsman, more than his own parent, as the blood happens. 
 Let parents choose betimes the vocations and courses they 
 mean their children should take, for then they are most 
 flexible ; and let them not too much apply themselves to the 
 disposition of their children, as thinking they will take best 
 to that which they have most mind to. f It is true, that if 
 the affection, or aptness of the children be extraordinary, 
 then it is good not to cross it ; but generally the precept is 
 
 * This doctrine will be thought heterodox by some, and perhaps 
 comes as much from the heart as the head. Bacon, when on the 
 threshold of manhood, was in straightened circumstances, soon 
 made the acquaintance of money-lenders, and the aid which he 
 asked of his mother was promised with conditions incompatible 
 with his self-esteem. 
 
 The word sort means associate ; the word sorteth, further on, 
 means happen, come to. 
 
 t The tendency of modern education is to encourage the natural 
 bent of the mind. 
 
 *' No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en ; 
 In brief, sir, study what you most affect." 
 
 — Shakespeare. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 
 
 205 
 
 good, "Optimum elige, suave et facile illud faciei consue- 
 tudo."* — Younger brothers are commonly fortunate, but 
 seldom or never where the elder are disinherited, f 
 
 OF MARRIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE. 
 
 He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to 
 fortune; for they are impediments to great enterprises, 
 either of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works, and 
 of greatest merit for the public, have proceeded from the 
 unmarried or childless men ; which, both in affection and 
 means, have married and endowed the public. Yet it were 
 great reason that those that have children should have 
 greatest care of future times, unto which they know they 
 must transmit their dearest pledges. Some there are, who, 
 though they lead a single life, yet their thoughts do end 
 with themselves, and account future times impertinences ; % 
 nay, there are some other that account wife and children 
 but as bills of charges; nay more, there are some foolish 
 rich covetous men, that take a pride in having no children, 
 because § they may be thought so much the richer ; for, 
 perhaps, they have heard some talk, " Such an one is a great 
 
 * " Select the career which seems best ; habit will make it 
 practicable and pleasant." 
 
 t According to the English law of primogeniture the oldest son 
 got the lion's share of the father's estate at the latter 's death. 
 Sometimes the estate was entailed, i. c. so fixed that it could not 
 be divided up among all the children, or disposed of by sale or by 
 last will, but descended from father to the oldest son, through suc- 
 ceeding generations. When not entailed, the owner could dispose 
 of it by last will, as he might see fit. In the United States the 
 power to entail property has been abolished ; if not devised, all 
 children share alike. 
 
 X Impertinences. A word used in equity pleadings, meaning 
 things irrelevant. 
 
 § Becaiue. In order that. 
 
2o6 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 rich man," and another except to it, " Yea, but he hath a 
 great charge of children ; " as if it were an abatement to his 
 riches : but the most ordinary cause of a single life is 
 liberty, especially in certain self-pleasing and humorous * 
 minds, which are so sensible of every restraint, as they will 
 go near to think their girdles and garters to be bonds and 
 shackles. Unmarried men are best friends, best masters, 
 best servants ; but not always best subjects ; for they are 
 light to run away ; and almost all fugitives are of that condi- 
 tion. A single life doth well with churchmen, for charity 
 will hardly water the ground where it must first fill a pool, f 
 It is indifferent for judges and magistrates ; for if they be 
 facile and corrupt, you shall have a servant five times worse 
 than a wife. For soldiers, I find the generals commonly, 
 in their hortatives, J put men in mind of their wives and 
 children; and I think the despising of marriage among 
 
 * Humorous. Whimsical. 
 
 t The celibacy of the priesthood was based upon other grounds. 
 It was a part of the Roman Catholic policy, and necessary to its 
 hierarchy. Its missionary orders could not, it was thought, wed 
 and work. Its monastic orders could not people their cells with 
 wives and children; a nunnery would not resemble its heathen 
 prototype — the temple of vestal virgins — if the sisters in the 
 church took husbands from the world. In a word, the theory 
 was that every religious, from pope to begging friar, from abbess 
 to nun, was wedded to the church and loosed from all family and 
 worldly ties. In the primitive church, when the priesthood of one 
 day might be made the martyrs of the next, when the conversion 
 of Greek and Roman, philosopher and barbarian, was the life- 
 mission of each, marriage and domestic duties were incompatible 
 with the fulfillment of the higher mission ; but when Luther revo- 
 lutionized a part of the priesthood by his example and writings, 
 the face of society and state of the church had undergone a 
 change. Yet it was some time before the English Church followed 
 in the footsteps of the Lutheran. 
 
 X " Strike — for your altars and your fires; 
 Strike— for the green graves of your sires, 
 
 God and your native land." — Marco Bozzaru. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 207 
 
 the Turks maketh the vulgar soldier more base. Certainly 
 wife and children are a kind of discipline of humanity ; and 
 single men, though they be many times more charitable, 
 because their means are less exhaust, • yet, on the other 
 side, they are more cruel and hard-hearted (good to make 
 severe inquisitors), because their tenderness is not so oft 
 called upon. Grave natures, led by custom, and therefore 
 constant, are commonly loving husbands, as was said of 
 Ulysses, " Vetulam suam fratulit immortalitaii." f Chaste 
 women are often proud and froward as presuming upon the 
 merit of their chastity. It is one of the best bonds, both of 
 chastity and obedience, in the wife, if she think her husband 
 wise; which she will never do if she find him jealous. { 
 Wives are young men's mistresses, companions for middle 
 age, and old men's nurses ; so as a man may have a quarrel § 
 
 * Exhaust. Exhausted. 
 
 t He preferred his aged wife (Penelope) to immortality. 
 
 X Jealousy is a natural and universal weakness, which is not 
 base, like envy, but is a source of sorrow to its possessor, and if 
 not restrained by reason it becomes an evil passion. In the Song 
 of Solomon it is described as being " cruel as the grave.'' Shakes- 
 peare points the moral of its indulgence in Othello. Milton calls 
 it "the injured lover's hell." Rochefoucauld and Goldsmith 
 defend or apologize for it. The former says: "Jealousy is in 
 some sort just and reasonable, since it only has for its object the 
 preservation of a good which belongs, or which we fancy belongs, 
 to ourselves ; while envy, on the contrary, is madness which can- 
 not endure the good of others.'' — Maxim zg. 
 
 Goldsmith, in " The Good-natured Man," thus defends it: "It 
 is natural to suppose that merit which has made an impression on 
 one's own heart may be powerful over that of another.'-' — Act /., 
 scene i, 
 
 § Quarrel. Excuse or ground. 
 
 In an old scrap-book there are the following lines, said to be 
 inscribed on a tombstone in an old English graveyard : — 
 " Tho' marriage by some is counted a curse, 
 Three wives did I many for better or worse : 
 The first for her person, the second her purse, 
 The third for warming-pan, doctress and nurse." 
 
2o8 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 to marry when he will: but yet he was reputed one of the 
 wise men, that made answer to the question when a man 
 should marry : — "A young man not yet, an elder man not at 
 all." * It is often seen, that bad husbands have very good 
 wives; whether it be that it raiseth the price of their hus- 
 bands' kindness when it comes, or that the wives take a 
 pride in their patience ; but this never fails, if the bad 
 husbands were of their own choosing, against their friends' 
 consent, for then they will be sure to make good their own 
 folly, t 
 
 * The answer of the reputed wise man has been put into verse 
 by some disciple : — 
 
 " I would advise a man to pause 
 Before he take a wife ; 
 Indeed, I own I see no cause 
 He should not pause for life." 
 
 t The poet Thompson thus describes the transition from lover 
 to husband: — 
 
 " First a kneeling slave, and then a tyrant." 
 
 — Xancred and SigisMiundi, 
 
 Horace Walpole writes to Sir Horace Mann that Lady Boyle's 
 portrait bore the inscription, " Died of a cruel husband." 
 
 Unhappy marriages seem to result oftenest from hasty unions, 
 where the shortest cut has been taken to the altar, or where 
 romantic women, knowing the weaknesses or vices of their lovers, 
 are silly enough to think that they can make good husbands out 
 of bad men. 
 
 " The universal reception that marriage has had in the world is 
 enough to fix it for a public good, and to draw everybody into the 
 common cause; but there are some constitutions, like some instru- 
 ments, so peculiarly singular that they make tolerable music by 
 themselves, but never do well in concert." — Farquar's " The 
 Inconstant." 
 
 " Courtship to marriage is a very witty prologue to a very dull 
 play." — Congreve's " The Old Bachelor." Act v., sc. n. 
 
 " O cursed state ! 
 How wide we err when apprehensive of the load 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 2CC 
 
 OF GREAT PLACE. * 
 
 Men in great place are thrice servants ; servants of tl:e 
 sovereign or State, servants of fame, and servants of bus- 
 iness; so as they have no freedom, neither in their persons, 
 nor in their actions, nor in their times. 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 unto place is laborious, and by pains men come to 
 
 Of life. • * » • 
 
 We hope to find 
 That help which nature meant in womankind I 
 To man that supplemental self designed." — Ibid. 
 
 The following attractive picture of married life will be found in 
 Farquar's " Sir Harry Wildair " : — 
 
 "There was never such a pattern of unity. Her wants were 
 still prevented by my supplies ; my own heart whispered me her 
 desires, because she herself was there. No contention ever arose 
 but the dear strife of who should most oblige. No noise about 
 authority; for neither would stoop to command, because both 
 thought it glory to obey." 
 
 Byron characterizes matrimony as the finger-post of Doctors- 
 Commons. " Not a divorce stirring," he writes to the poet Moore, 
 " but a good many in embryo in the shape of marriages." 
 
 And Peter Pindar compares it to Jeremiah's figs : — 
 
 "Ah! matrimony! thou art like 
 To Jeremiah's figs; 
 The good were very good, the bad 
 Too sour to give the pigs." 
 
 " ' Alack-a-day I ' replied the corporal, brightening up his face ; 
 'your honour knows I have neither wife nor child. I can have no 
 sorrows in this world.' " — Tristram Shandy. 
 
 * No man's experience comprised more of the vicissitudes of 
 place-hunting than Bacon's. His career began with disappoint- 
 ment and ended in disgrace. "If this be to be a Lord Chan- 
 cellor," he said, " I think if the Great Seal lay upon Hounslow 
 Heath, nobody would take it up." 
 
210 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 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 melancholy thing: " Cum non sis qui fueris, non esse cur 
 velis vivere." \ Nay, retire men cannot when they would, 
 neither will they when it were reason; but are impatient of 
 privateness even in age and sickness, which require the 
 shadow; t like old townsmen, that will be still sitting at 
 their street-door, though thereby they offer age to scorn. 
 Certainly great persons had need to borrow other men's 
 opinions to think themselves happy; for if they judge by 
 their own feeling, they cannot find it : but if they think with 
 themselves what other men think of them, and that other 
 men would fain be as they are, then they are happy as it 
 were by report, when, perhaps, they find the contrary 
 
 * Indignities, i. e. those slights and snubs which the place- 
 hunter submits to in order to attain his end. 
 
 " Whoever is apt to hope good from others is diligent to please 
 them ; but he that believes his powers strong enough to force their 
 own way commonly tries only to please himself." — Dr. Johnson, 
 " Life of Gay:- 
 
 " So many a winter, many a summer ran 
 Calm and unclouded o'er the pliant man." 
 
 — yuvenal, IV Satire. 
 
 Sir Pertinax Macsycophant : "I naver in my life could stand 
 straight i' th' presence of a great man ; but always boowed and 
 boowed and boowed, as if it were by instinct." 
 
 Egerton : " How do you mean by instinct, sir? " 
 
 Sir Pertinax : " I mean by the instinct of interest, which is the 
 universal interest of rai.-aVSxA." — MackiM s " Man of the World," 
 Act III., sc. I. 
 
 t Cum sis, etc. Since you are not what you were, why do you 
 care to live as a nobody ? 
 
 X Shadow. Retirement. 
 
 " Old politicians chew on wisdom past, 
 And totter on in business to the last" 
 
 — Pope, Moral Essay. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 211 
 
 within:* for they "are the first that find their own griefs, 
 though they be the last that find their own faults. Certainly 
 men in great fortunes are strangers to themselves, and 
 while they are in the puzzle of business they have no time 
 to tend their health either of body or mind: "//// mors 
 gravis incubat, qui notus nimis omnibus, ignotus moritur 
 sibi." t In place there is license to do good and evil ; whereof 
 the latter is a curse : for in evil the best condition is not to 
 will: the second not to can. But power to do good is the 
 true and lawful end of aspiring ; for good thoughts (though 
 God accept them), yet towards men are little better than 
 good dreams, except they be put in act ; and that cannot be 
 without power and place, as the vantage and commanding 
 ground. Merit and good works is the end of man's motion ; 
 and conscience t of the same is the accomplishment of man's 
 rest : for if a man can be partaker of God's theater, he shall 
 likewise be partaker of God's rest: " Ei conversus Deus, ut 
 aspiceret opera, qucefecerunt manus sua, vidit quod omnia 
 essent bona nimis j " § and then the Sabbath. 
 
 In the discharge of the place set before thee the best 
 
 * Bacon here alludes to the disposition in most of us which 
 inspires us to make ourselves miserable in order to be thought 
 happy, or at least enviable, by our neighbors. This is most appar- 
 ent in the social ambition of both men and women, who, to lift 
 themselves a grade higher in the social scale, sacrifice self-respect 
 and the tangible enjoyments which are within their reach in the 
 class to which they belong by natural selection. 
 
 " He who looks for applause from without leaves his happiness 
 in other men's keeping." — Goldsmith, " The Good-natured Man." 
 
 " Happiness lies in the taste, not in the things, and it is from 
 having what we desire that we are happy, not from having what 
 others think desirable.'' — Rochefoucauld. 
 
 t Death weighs heavily upon him who, too well known by oth- 
 ers, dies self-ignorant. 
 
 X Conscience means consciousness. 
 
 § And God having turned to behold the works which His hands 
 had done, saw that all things were very good. 
 
212 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 examples; for imitation is a globe * of precepts ; and after a 
 time set before thee thine own example ; and examine thy- 
 self strictly whether thou didst not best at first. Neglect 
 not also the examples of those that have carried themselves 
 ill in the same place ; not to set off thyself by taxing their 
 memory, but to direct thyself what to avoid. Reform, there- 
 fore, without bravery f or scandal of former times and per- 
 sons ; but yet set it down to thyself, as well to create good 
 precedents as to follow them. Reduce things to the first 
 institution, and observe wherein and how they have degen- 
 erated ; but yet ask counsel of both times ; of the ancient 
 time what is best; and of the later time what is fittest. 
 Seek to make thy course regular, that men may know 
 beforehand what they may expect; but be not too positive 
 and peremptory; and express thyself well when thou 
 digressest from thy lure. Preserve the right of thy place, 
 but stir not questions of jurisdiction ; and rather assume thy 
 right in silence, and " de facto" X than voice it with claims 
 and challenges. Preserve likewise the rights of inferior 
 places ; and think it more honour to direct in chief than to 
 be busy in all. Embrace and invite helps § and advices 
 touching the execution of thy place ; and do not drive away 
 such as bring thee information as meddlers, but accept of 
 them in good part. 
 
 The vices of authority are chiefly four; delays, cor- 
 ruption, roughness, and facility. For delays give easy 
 access ; keep times appointed ; go through with that which 
 is in hand, and interlace not business but of necessity. For 
 corruption, do not only bind thine own hands or thy ser- 
 vants' hands from taking, but bind the hands of suitors also 
 from offering ; for integrity used doth the one ; but integrity 
 
 * Globe, i. e. circle. 
 
 t Bravery, i. e. rashness, pride, arrogance. 
 X De facto, i. e. as a matter of fact ; as admitted on all sides. 
 § " He who calls in the aid of an equal understanding doubles 
 his o^n."— Burke's reply to Fox, debate on French Revolution. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 213 
 
 professed, and with a manifest detestation of briberj', dotli 
 the other; and avoid not only the fault, but the suspicion. 
 Whosoever is found variable, and changeth manifestly with- 
 out manifest cause, giveth suspicion of corruption : therefore, 
 always when thou changest thine opinion or course, profess 
 it plainly, and declare it, together with the reasons that move 
 thee to change, and do not think to steal it. * A servant or 
 a favourite, if he be inward, f and no other apparent cause 
 of esteem, is commonly thought but a by-way to close cor- 
 ruption. For roughness, it is a needless cause of discon- 
 tent: severity breedeth fear, but roughness breedeth hate. 
 Even reproofs from authority ought to be grave, and not 
 taunting. As for facility — it is worse than bribery; for 
 bribes come but now and then ; but if importunity or idle 
 respects J lead a man, he shall never be without ; as Solo- 
 mon saith, " To respect persons is not good, for such a 
 man will transgress for a piece of bread." 
 
 It is most true that was anciently spoken, " A place 
 showeth the man; and it showeth some to the better and 
 some to the worse." " Omnium consensu capax imperii, nisi 
 imperasset"% saith Tacitus of Galba; but of Vespasian 
 
 * " Steal it" i. e. conceal it or lie about it. 
 
 "When a man owns himself to have been in error, he does 
 but tell you, in other words, that he is wiser than he was." — Pope, 
 Utter to Hon. J. C, yune ij, lyii. 
 
 t Inward, i. e. intimate. 
 
 Close, i. e. secret. 
 
 J Facility, that is accessibility to, and persuadability too, by the 
 few, and indifference to the many, is the too common character- 
 istic of the public servant, whether king, president, judge, legisla- 
 tor, or even the petty chief of some petty bureau. 
 
 " No man," says Macaulay, in speaking of Charles II., " is fit to 
 govern great societies who hesitates about disobliging the few who 
 have access to him for the sake of the many whom he will never 
 see." 
 
 § If he had not governed, all would have said that he was 
 capable of governing. 
 
214 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 he saith, "Solus imperantium, Vespasianus mutatus in 
 melius;"* though the one was meant of sufficiency, the 
 other of manners and affection. It is an assured sign of a 
 worthy and generous spirit, whom lionour amends ; for 
 honour is, or should be, the place of virtue; and as in 
 nature things move violently to their place, and calmly in 
 their place, so virtue in ambition is violent, in authority 
 settled and calm, f All rising to great place is by a winding 
 stair ; and if there be factions, it is good to side a man's 
 self whilst he is in the rising, and to balance himself when 
 he is placed. Use the memory of thy predecessor fairly 
 and tenderly; for if thou dost not, it is a debt will sure be 
 paid when thou art gone. If thou have colleagues, respect 
 them ; and rather call them when they look not for it, than 
 exclude them when they have reason to look to be called. 
 Be not too sensible or too remembering of thy place in con- 
 versation and private answers to suitors ; but let it rather 
 be said, " When he sits in place he is another man." 
 
 * Of the emperors, Vespasian alone changed for the better. 
 
 t Bacon seems to recognize but one road to place, a path which 
 begins in the mire and leads up to the mountain. Self-respect, 
 honor, independence, individuality, must all be sacrificed in the 
 beginning, and great place will finally compensate. He does not 
 state it as a fact ; he announces it as a principle, that " stooping to 
 points of necessity and convenience cannot be disallowed ; for 
 though they may have some outward baseness, yet in judgment 
 truly made, they are to be accounted submissions to the occasion 
 and not the person." — " Advancement of Learning," 
 
 He preaches the orthodoxy of party as a means to place when 
 he points out the benefits of being a partisan, when one is in the 
 rising, and advises a course which few men follow, when they suc- 
 ceed, in suggesting that they should "balance" themselves,/..?, 
 be impartial when placed. " If a man so tempers his action as in 
 some one of them, he doth content every faction or combination 
 of people," he says in an " Essay on Honor and Reputation," " the 
 music will be the fuller." 
 
HIS ESSAYS.. 215 
 
 OF BOLDNESS.* 
 
 It is a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worthy a wise 
 man's consideration. Question was aslced of Demosthenes 
 what was the chief part of an orator? he answered, action: 
 what next? action: what next again? action. He said it 
 that knew it best, and had by nature himself no advantage 
 in that he commended. A strange thing, that that part of 
 an orator which is but superficial, and rather the virtue of a 
 player, should be placed so high above those other noble 
 parts of invention, elocution, and the rest; nay almost 
 alone, as if it were all in all. But the reason is plain. 
 There is in human nature generally more of the fool than of 
 the wise; and therefore those faculties by which the foolish 
 part of men's minds is taken, are most potent. Wonderful 
 like is the case of boldness in civil business ; what first ? 
 boldness: what second and third? boldness, f And yet 
 boldness is a child of ignorance and baseness, far inferior 
 
 * This essay comes very appropriately after the one " Of Great 
 Place," for both are dedicated to the consideration of the one 
 subject which so occupied the mind of Bacon, i. e. success 
 in life. 
 
 t Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, writing to Mr. Wortley Mon- 
 tagu, says : " Riches being another word for power, to the obtain- 
 ing of which the first necessary qualification is impudence, and (as 
 Demosthenes said of pronunciation \_sic\ in oratory) the second is 
 impudence, and the third still impudence, no modest man ever 
 did or ever will make his fortune." — Memoirs and Letters. Vol. 
 I., BIS- 
 
 The coin of this impudence and boldness is current in a vicious 
 market, where there " is generally more of the fool than the wise." 
 The more a community advances in culture the less influence, 
 power or success have the unblushing pretenders to merit. Bacon 
 was himself of a timid nature, and was often embarrassed by the 
 rude, overbearing boldness of Coke and others, and probably 
 
2l6 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 to Other parts : but nevertheless, it doth fascinate, and bind 
 hand and foot those that are either shallow in judgment or 
 weak in courage, which are the greatest part: yea, and pre- 
 vaileth with wise men at weak times : therefore we see it 
 hath done wonders in popular States, but with senates and 
 princes less ; and more, ever upon the first entrance of bold 
 persons into action than soon after ; for boldness is an ill 
 keeper of promise. Surely as there are mountebanks for 
 the natural body, so are there mountebanks for the politic 
 body; men that undertake great cures, and perhaps have 
 been lucky in two or three experiments, but want the 
 grounds of science, and therefore cannot hold out : nay, you 
 shall see a bold fellow many times do Mahomet's miracle. 
 Mahomet made the people believe that he would call a hill 
 to him, and from the top of it offer up his prayers for the 
 observers of his law. The people assembled : Mahomet 
 called the hill to come to him again and again ; and when 
 the hill stood still, he was never a whit abashed, but said, 
 " If the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to 
 the hill." So these men, when they have promised great 
 matters and failed most shamefully, yet (if they have the 
 perfection of boldness) they will but slight it over, and make 
 a turn, and no more ado. Certainly to men of great judg- 
 ment, bold persons are a sport to behold ; nay, and to the 
 vulgar also boldness hath somewhat of the ridiculous : for 
 if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you not but 
 great boldness is seldom without some absurdity ; especially 
 
 assigned to impudence more power as an aid to success than it 
 possessed. Elsewhere he says : — 
 
 " Ostentation is rather a vice in manners than in policy. . . . 
 Not a few solid natures that want this ventosity are not without 
 some prejudice and disadvantage." — "Advancement of Learning." 
 
 " Win power with craft, wear it with ostentation. 
 For confidence is half security; 
 Deluded men think boldness conscious strength, 
 And grow the slaves of their own want of doubt." 
 
 — Walpole, "Mysteriotis Mother;^ Act I., sc. 3. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 217 
 
 it is a sport to see when a bold fellow is out of countenance, 
 for that puts his face into a most shrunken and wooden post- 
 ure as needs it must; for in bashfulness the spirits do a 
 little go and come ; but with bold men, upon like occasion, 
 they stand at a stay; like a stale at chess, where it is no 
 mate, but yet the game cannot stir : but this last were fitter 
 for a satire than for a serious observation. This is well to 
 be weighed, that boldness is ever blind; for it seeth not 
 dangers and inconveniences : therefore it is ill in counsel, 
 good in execution ; so that the right use of bold persons is, 
 that they never command in chief, but be seconds and under 
 the direction of others; for in counsel it is good to see 
 dangers, and in execution not to see them except they be 
 very great. 
 
 OF GOODNESS, AND GOODNESS OF NATURE. 
 
 I take goodness in this sense, the affecting of the weal 
 of men, which is that the Grecians call Philanthropiaj and 
 the word humanity (as it is used), is a little too light to 
 express it. Goodness I call the habit, and goodness of 
 nature the inclination. This of all virtues and dignities of 
 the mind, is the greatest, being the character of the Deity: 
 and without it man is a busy, mischievous, wretched thing, 
 no better than a kind of vermin. Goodness answers to the 
 theological virtue charity, and admits no excess but error. 
 The desire of power in excess caused the angels to fall ; 
 the desire of knowledge in excess caused man to fall: but 
 in charity there is no excess, neither can angel or man come 
 in danger by it. The inclination to goodness is imprinted 
 deeply in the nature of man ; insomuch, that if it issue not 
 towards men, it will take unto other living creatures ; as it 
 is seen in the Turks, a cruel people, who nevertheless are 
 kind to beasts, and give alms to dogs and birds; insomuch, 
 
2l8 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 as Busbechius * reporteth, a Christian boy in Constantinople 
 had like to have been stoned for gagging in a waggishness 
 a long-billed fowl. Errors indeed, in this virtue, of good- 
 ness or charity, may be committed. The Italians have an 
 ungracious proverb, " Tanto buon che valnientej " " so good, 
 that he is good for nothing ; " and one of the doctors of 
 Italy, Nicholas Machiavel, f had the confidence to put in 
 writing, almost in plain terms, "That the Christian faith 
 had given up good men in prey to those that are tyrannical 
 and unjust ; " which he spake, because, indeed, there was 
 never law or sect or opinion did so much magnify goodness 
 as the Christian religion doth : therefore, to avoid the scan- 
 dal and the danger both, it is good to take knowledge of the 
 errors of a habit so excellent. Seek the good of other men, 
 but be not in bondage to their faces or fancies ; for that is 
 but facility or softness, which taketh an honest mind pris- 
 oner. Neither give thou ^sop's cock a gem, who would be 
 better pleased and happier if he had had a barley-corn. 
 The example of God teacheth the lesson truly : " He 
 sendeth His rain, and maketh His sun to shine upon the 
 just and the unjust ; " but He doth not rain wealth, nor 
 shine honour and virtues upon men equally : common ben- 
 efits are to be communicated with all, but peculiar benefits 
 with choice. And beware how in making the portraiture 
 thou breakest the pattern : for divinity maketh the love of 
 ourselves the pattern ; the love of our neighbours but the 
 portraiture: "Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor, 
 and follow Me : " but sell not all thou hast except thou 
 come and follow Me ; that is, except thou have a vocation 
 wherein thou mayest do as much good with little means as 
 with great; for otherwise, in feeding the streams, thou 
 driest the fountain. 
 
 Neither is there only a habit of goodness directed by 
 
 * Native o£ Flanders, born 1522 ; was a great traveller, 
 t A Florentine, author of "The Prince," and proteg^ of Csesar 
 Borgia. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 219 
 
 right reason ; but there is in some men, even in nature, a 
 disposition towards it; as, on the other side, there is a nat- 
 ural malignity: for there be that in their nature do not 
 affect the good of others. The lighter sort of malignity 
 turneth but to a crossness, or frowardness, or aptness to 
 oppose, or difficileness,* or the like ; but the deeper sort to 
 envy, and mere mischief. Such men in other men's calam- 
 ities, are, as it were, in season, and are ever on the loading 
 part : not so good as the dogs that licked Lazarus' sores, 
 but like flies that are still buzzing upon anything that is 
 raw ; misanthropi, that maketh it their practice to bring men 
 to the bough, and yet have never a tree for the puipose in 
 their gardens, as Timon f had : such dispositions are the 
 very errors of human nature, and yet they are the fittest 
 timber to make great politics of ; like to knee-timber, % that 
 is good for ships that are ordained to be tossed, but not for 
 building houses that shall stand firm. 
 
 The parts and signs of goodness are many. § If a man be 
 gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen 
 of the world, and that his heart is no island cut off from 
 other lands, but a continent that joins to them : if he be 
 compassionate towards the afilictions of others, it shows 
 that his heart is like the noble tree that is wounded itself 
 when it gives the balm: || if he easily pardons and remits 
 
 * Difficileness, i. e. stubbornness, 
 t Timon of Athens, a typical misanthrope. 
 } Timber used in ship-building ; so called because of its angular 
 shape. 
 
 § " Wealth may be courted, wisdom be revered, 
 
 And beauty praised, and brutal strength be feared; 
 But goodness only can afEection move.'' 
 
 — Mrs. Barhauld. 
 
 II This is the nature of gratitude and true thankfulness; for 
 time, which knaws and diminisheth all things else, augments and 
 increases benefits, because a noble action of liberality done to a 
 man of reason doth grow continually by his generous thinking of 
 it and remembering it." — Rabelais, Bk. I., ch. L. 
 
22 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 offenses, it shows that his mind is planted above injuries, 
 so that he cannot be shot : if he be thankful for small ben- 
 efits, it shows that he weighs men's minds, and not their 
 trash : but, above all, if he have St. Paul's perfection, that 
 he wculd wish to be an anathema from Christ for the salva- 
 tion of his brethren, it shows much of a divine nature, and 
 a kind of conformity with Christ himself. 
 
 OF ATHEISM. 
 
 I had rather believe all the fables in the Legend,* and 
 the Talmud, f and the Alcoran, than that this universal 
 frame is without a mind;- and, therefore, God never wrought 
 miracles to convince atheism, because His ordinary works 
 convince it. It is true, that a little philosophy inclineth 
 man's mind to atheism, but depth in philosophy bringeth 
 men's minds about to religion ; for while the mind of man 
 looketh upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes 
 rest in them, and go no further ; but when it beholdeth the 
 chain of them confederate, and linked together, it must 
 needs fly to Providence and Deity: nay, even that school 
 which is most accused of atheism doth most demonstrate 
 religion; that is the school of Leucippus, } and Democritus, 
 and Epicurus, for it is a thousand times more credible that 
 four mutable elements, and one immutable fifth essence, 
 duly and eternally placed, need no God, than that an army 
 of infinite small portions, or seeds unplaced, should have 
 produced this order or beauty without a divine marshal. 
 The Scripture saith, " The fool hath said in his heart, there 
 
 * A collection of miraculous stories. 
 
 t A book composed of Jewish traditions and Rabbinical com- 
 mentaries. 
 
 } Leucippus, a philosopher of Abdera, author of the atomic 
 theory, which was adopted and taught by his disciples, Demoo- 
 ritus and Epicurus. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 221 
 
 is no God ; " it is not said, " Tlie fool hath thought in his 
 heart; " so as he rather saith it by rote to himself, as that 
 he would have, than that he can thoroughly believe it, or be 
 persuaded of it ; for none deny there is a God, but those 
 for whom it maketh * that there were no God. It appeareth 
 
 * Maketh, i. e. it is profitable ; e. g. 3. popular lecturer who 
 receives so much a night for saying with his tongue, " There is no 
 God," who, like Shelley, "robs the wretched of a hope which, 
 even if false, is worth all this world's best truths." 
 
 " For myself," says Byron, " I would not give up the poetry of 
 religion for all the wisest results that philosophy has ever arrived 
 a.t." — Moort^s "Life of Byron," Vol. II., 412. 
 
 " A sceptike in religion is one that hangs in the balance with 
 all sorts of opinions, whereof not one but stirres him and none 
 swayes him, — a man guiltier of credulity than he is taken to bee, 
 for it is out of his beleefe of everything that hee fully beleeves 
 nothing. Hee would be wholy a Christian but that he is some- 
 thing of an atheist, and wholy an atheist but that he is partly a 
 Christian; and a perfect heretic, but that there are so many to 
 distract him. He finds reason in all opinions, truth in none; 
 indeed, the least reason perplexes him and the best will not sat- 
 isfy him. His learning is too much for his brayne, and his judg- 
 ment too little for his learning, and his own opinion of both spoyls 
 all. He cannot think so many wise men should be in error, nor 
 so many honest men out of the way, and his wonder is doubled 
 when he sees these oppose one another. His whole life is a ques- 
 tion, and his salvation a greater, which death only concludes, and 
 then he is resolved." — John Earle's " Micro-Cosmografhic" 
 
 " There is more faith in honest doubt, 
 Believe me, than in half the creeds." 
 
 — Tennyson, 
 
 The fact that we have reason and apply it to the examination of 
 our world and ourselves, and reach certain results which we call 
 conclusive, makes us turn this mental microscope upon infinity of, 
 time, space, power, mercy, justice and wisdom; and because we, 
 by unassisted reason, cannot reach certain results, we deny the 
 possibility of conclusions. 
 
222 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 in nothing more, that atheism is rather in the lip than in the 
 heart of man, than by this, that atheists will ever be talking 
 of that their opinion, as if they fainted in it within them- 
 selves, and would be glad to be strengthened by the consent 
 of others : nay more, you shall have atheists strive to get 
 disciples, as it fareth with other sects ; and, which is most 
 of all, you shall have of them that will suffer for atheism, 
 and not recant ; whereas, if they did truly think that there 
 were no such thing as God, why should they trouble them- 
 selves ? Epicurus is charged, that he did but dissemble for 
 his credit's sake, when he affirmed there were blessed 
 natures, but such as enjoyed themselves without having 
 respect to the government of the world; wherein they say 
 he did temporize, though in secret he thought there was no 
 God : but certainly he is traduced, for his words are noble 
 and divine : "JVon Deos vulgi negare profanumj sed vulgi 
 opiniones Diis applicare profanum.'"* Plato could have 
 said no more ; and, although he had the confidence to deny 
 the administration, he had not the power to deny the nature. 
 The Indians of the West have names for their particular 
 gods, though they have no name for God : as if the heathens 
 
 " Dim as the beam of moon and stars, 
 To lonely, weary travellers, is reason 
 To the soul." 
 
 — Drydet^s Reli^o-Laici. 
 But reason, which is like a proud, unbridled steed, roaming 
 through every field, constantly demands for faith similar proofs 
 that it demands for physical phenomena; hence doubt follows 
 faith as one's shadow follows, 
 
 "And like the shadow, proves the substance true." 
 
 For the exclamation of the father in St. Mark is ever on the hon- 
 est lips of the sincere believer who cannot see with his under- 
 standing into the mystery of Creator, creation, death and the life 
 to come, and so exclaims: "I believe; help thou my unbelief." 
 
 • "It is not profane to deny the gods of the multitude; but 
 to apply to the gods the opinions of the multitude is profane." 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 
 
 223 
 
 should have had the names Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, etc., but 
 not the word Deus, which shows that even those barbarous 
 people have the notion, though they have not the latitude 
 and extent of it : so that against atheists the very savages 
 take part with the very subtilest philosophers. The con- 
 templative atheist is rare, a Diagoras, a Bion, a Lucian 
 perhaps, and some others ; and yet they seem to be more 
 than they are ; for that all that impugn a received religion, 
 or superstition, are, by the adverse part, branded with the 
 name of atheists : but the great atheists indeed are hypo- 
 crites, which are ever handling holy things, but without 
 feeling; so as they must needs be cauterized in the end. 
 
 The causes of atheism are, divisions in religion, if there 
 be many, for any one main division addeth zeal to both 
 sides, but many divisions introduce atheism: another is, 
 scandal of priests, when it is come to that which St. Bernard 
 saith, " Non est Jam dicere, ut populus, sic sacerdos ; quia 
 nee sic populus, ut sacerdos:"* a third is, custom of profane 
 scofBng in holy matters, which doth by little and little deface 
 the reverence of religion ; and, lastly, learned times, espe- 
 lially with peace and prosperity ; for troubles and adversities 
 do more bow men's minds to religion. They that deny a 
 God destroy man's nobility ; for certainly man is of kin to 
 the beasts by his body ; and, if he be not of kin to God by 
 his spirit, he is a base and ignoble creature. It destroys 
 likewise magnanimity, and the raising of human nature ; for 
 take an example of a dog, and mark what a generosity and 
 courage he will put on when he finds himself maintained by 
 man, who to him is instead of a God, or ^'■melior nafuraj" f 
 which courage is manifestly such as that creature, without 
 that confidence of a better nature than his own, could never 
 attain. So man, when he resteth and assureth himself upon 
 divine protection and favour, gathereth a force and faith, 
 
 *" It cannot now be said ' Like priest, like people,' because the 
 people are not like the priest." 
 t Superior nature. 
 
224 FRANCIS BACON j 
 
 which human nature in itself could not obtain ; therefore, 
 as atheism is in all respects hateful, so in this, that it 
 depriveth human nature of the means to exalt itself above 
 human frailty. * As it is in particular persons, so it is in 
 nations : never was there such a State for magnanimity as 
 Rome ; of this State hear what Cicero saith, " Quam vol- 
 umus, licet, Patres conscripiz, nos ametnus, tamen nee 
 numero Hispanos, nee robore Gallos, nee ealliditate Ptsnos, 
 nee artibus Grceeos, nee deniqtie hoe ipso huJ7is gentis et 
 terrce domestico nativoque sensu Italos ipso et Latinos; sed 
 pietate, ac religione, atque hae una sapientia, quod Deorum 
 immortalium numine omnia regi, gubernarique perspex- 
 imus omnes, gentes nationesque super avimus.^' f 
 
 OF SUPERSTITION. 
 
 It were better to have no opinion of God at all, than such 
 an opinion as is unworthy of Him ; for the one is unbelief, 
 the other is contumely: and certainly superstition is the 
 reproach of the Deity. Plutarch saith well to that purpose : 
 " Surely,'' said he, " I had rather a great deal men should 
 say there was no such man at all as Plutarch, than that they 
 should say that there was one Plutarch that would eat his 
 children as soon as they were born ; " as the poets speak of 
 Saturn : and, as the contumely is greater towards God, so 
 
 * " If it is a dream let me enjoy it, since it makes me both a 
 happier and a better man." — Addison, Spectator, No. i86. 
 
 t Let us be ever so self-complacent, conscript fathers, still we 
 have not surpassed the Spaniards in number, nor the Gauls in 
 strength, nor the Carthagenians in cunning, nor, finally, the Latins 
 and Italians of this nation and land in natural intelligence about 
 home affairs ; but we have excelled all nations and people in piety 
 and religion, and this one wisdom of fully recognizing that all 
 things are ordered and governed by the power of the immortal 
 gods. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 225 
 
 the danger is greater towards men. Atheism leaves a man 
 to sense, to philosophy, to natural piety, * to laws, to reputa- 
 tion : all which may be guides to an outward moral virtue, 
 though religion were not; but superstition dismounts all 
 these, and erecteth an absolute monarchy in the minds of 
 men : t therefore atheism did never perturb States ; for it 
 makes men wary of themselves, as lookmg no further, 
 and we see the times inclined to atheism (as the time of 
 Augustus Caesar) were civil times : t but superstition hath 
 been the confusion of many States, and bringeth in a new 
 "primum mobile," § that ravisheth all the spheres of govern- 
 ment. The master of superstition is the people, and in all 
 superstition wise men follow fools ; and arguments are fitted 
 to practice, in a reversed order. It was gravely said, by 
 some of the prelates in the Council of Trent, where the 
 doctrine of the schoolmen bare great sway, that the school- 
 men were like astronomers, which did feign eccentrics and 
 epicycles, and such engines of orbs to save the phenomena, 
 though they knew there were no such things ; and, in like 
 manner, that the schoolmen had framed a number of subtile 
 and intricate axioms and theorems, to save the practice of 
 the church. 
 
 The causes of superstition are, pleasing and sensual rites 
 and ceremonies ; excess of outward and pharisaical holiness ; 
 over-great reverence of traditions, which cannot but load the 
 church ; the stratagems of prelates for their own ambition 
 and lucre; the favouring too much of good intentions, 
 which openeth the gate to conceits and novelties ; the tak- 
 
 * Ifatural piety, i. e. morality. 
 
 t " Sickness and sorrow come and go, but a superstitious soul 
 hath no rest." — Burton, "Anatomy of Melancholy" 
 
 % The profligacy of luxury and the preponderance of atheism 
 were then sapping the foundations of Roman virtue, valour and 
 power. So the spirit of unbelief reigned as twin demon with that 
 of the murder of the innocents, which stamped the French Revo- 
 lution as a godless revolution. 
 
 § The central body attracting all others. 
 H 
 
226 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 ing an aim at divine matters by human, which cannot but 
 breed mixture of imaginations : and, lastly, barbarous times, 
 especially joined with calamities and disasters. Supersti- 
 tion, without a veil, is a deformed thing ; for as it addeth 
 deformity to an ape to be so like a man, so the similitude of 
 superstition to religion makes it the more deformed : and, as 
 wholesome meat corrupteth to little worms, so good forms 
 and orders corrupt into a number of petty observances. 
 There is a superstition in avoiding superstition, when men 
 think to do best if they go farthest from the superstition 
 formerly received ; therefore care would * be had that (as it 
 fareth in ill purgings) the good not be taken away with the 
 bad, which commonly is done when the people is the 
 reformer. 
 
 OF TRAVEL. 
 
 Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education ; in the 
 elder, a part of experience. He that travelleth into a coun- 
 try, before he hath some entrance into the language, goeth 
 to school, and not to travel. That young men travel under 
 some tutor, or grave servant, I allow f well ; so that he be 
 such a one that hath the language, and hath been in the 
 country before ; whereby he may be able to tell them what 
 things are worthy to be seen in the country where they go, 
 what acquaintances they are to seek, what exercises or dis- 
 cipline the place yieldeth ; for else young men shall go 
 hooded, and look abroad little. It is a strange thing 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 observ- 
 ation: let diaries, therefore, be brought in use. The 
 
 * Would is used here for should. 
 t Allow, i. e. approve. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 227 
 
 things to be seen and observed are, the courts of princes, 
 especially when they give audience to ambassadors ; the 
 courts of justice, while they sit and hear causes ; and so of 
 consistories ecclesiastic ; the churches and monasteries, with 
 the monuments which are therein extant ; the walls and for- 
 tifications of cities and towns ; and so the havens and har- 
 bours, antiquities and ruins, libraries, colleges, disputations, 
 and lectures, where any are ; shipping and navies ; houses 
 and gardens of state and pleasure, near great cities : armo- 
 ries, arsenals, magazines, exchanges, bourses, * warehouses, 
 exercises of horsemanship, fencing, training of soldiers, and 
 the like : comedies, such whereunto the better sort of per- 
 sons do resort ; treasuries of jewelries and robes ; cabinets 
 and rarities ; and, to conclude, whatsoever is memorable in 
 the places where they go : after all which the tutors or ser- 
 vants ought to make diligent inquiry. As for triumphs, f 
 masques, feasts, weddings, funerals, capital executions, and 
 such shows, men need not be put in mind of them : yet they 
 are not to be neglected. . If you will have a young man to 
 put his travels into a little room, and in short time to gather 
 much, this you must do; first, as was said, he must have 
 some entrance into the language before he goeth ; then he 
 must have such a servant, or tutor, as knoweth the country, 
 as was likewise said : let him carry with him also some card, 
 or book, describing the country where he travelleth, which 
 will be a good key to his inquiry; let him keep also a diary; 
 let him not stay long in one city or town, more or less as 
 the place deserveth, but not long ; nay, when he stayeth in 
 one city or town, let him change his lodging from one end 
 and part of the town to another, which is a great adamant t 
 of acquaintance ; let him sequester himself from the com- 
 pany of his countrymen, and diet in such places where there 
 
 * Bourses. French word bourse means purse, and this was sign 
 of the merchants' place of meeting for their money dealings, 
 t Triumphs, i. e. shows of a public character. 
 % Adamant, i. e. loadstone. 
 
228 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 is good company of the nation where he travelleth : let him, 
 upon his removes from one place to another, procure recom- 
 mendation to some person of quaUty residing in the place 
 whither he removeth, that he may use his favour in those 
 things he desireth to see or know ; thus he may abridge his 
 travel with much profit. 
 
 As for the acquaintance which is to be sought in travel, 
 that which is most of all profitable, is acquaintance with the 
 secretaries and employed men of ambassadors : for so in 
 travelling in one country he shall suck the experience of 
 many : let him also see and visit eminent persons in all 
 kinds, which are of great name abroad, that he may be able 
 to tell how the life agreeth with the fame ; for quarrels, 
 they are with care and discretion to be avoided ; they are 
 commonly for mistresses, healths, * place, and words ; and 
 let a man beware how he keepeth company with choleric 
 and quarrelsome persons, for they will engage him into 
 their own quarrels. When a traveller returneth home, let 
 him not leave the countries where he hath travelled 
 altogether behind him; but maintain a correspondence by 
 letters with those of his acquaintance which are of most 
 worth ; and let his travel appear rather in his discourse than 
 in his apparel or gesture ; f and in his discourse let him be 
 rather advised J in his answers than forward to tell stories : 
 and let it appear that he doth not change his country man- 
 ners for those- of foreign parts ; but only prick in some 
 flowers of that he hath learned abroad into the customs of 
 his own country. 
 
 * Healths of absent lady-loves were commonly proposed, also of 
 friend, patron, king or country; a refusal to pledge in wine was 
 considered and treated as an insult when men wore, and were so 
 ready with, their swords. 
 
 t Sir Richard Steele says that "a general trader (i. e. merchant 
 who travels) of good sense is pleasanter company than a general 
 scholar." 
 
 X Advised. Circumspect. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 229 
 
 OF WISDOM FOR A MAN'S SELF. 
 
 An ant is a wise creature for itself, but it is a shrewd* 
 thing in an orchard or garden ; and certainly men that are 
 great lovers of themselves waste the public. Divide with 
 reason between self-love and society ; and be so true to thy- 
 self, as thou be not false to others, f specially to thy king 
 and country. It is a poor center of a man's actions, himself. 
 It is right earth ; for that only stands fast -upon his own 
 center; X whereas all things that have affinity with the 
 heavens, move upon the center of another, which they ben- 
 efit. The referring of all to a man's self, is more tolerable 
 in a sovereign prince, because themselves are not only 
 themselves, but their good and evil is at the peril of the 
 public fortune : but it is a desperate evil in a servant to a 
 prince, or a citizen in a republic ; § for whatsoever affairs 
 pass such a man's hands, he crooketh them to his own 
 ends, which must needs be often eccentric, to the ends of 
 his master or State : therefore let princes, or States, choose 
 such servants as have not this mark; except they mean their 
 service should be made but the accessary. That which 
 maketh the effect more pernicious is, that all proportion, is 
 lost ; it were disproportion enough for the servant's good 
 to be preferred before the master's ; but yet it is a greater 
 extreme, when a little good of the servant shall carry things 
 
 * Shrewd, i. e. mischievous. 
 
 t This suggests a line in the address of Polonius to Laertes. 
 Hamlet, act i., sc. 3. 
 
 In the "Advancement of Learning " Bacon says : " The sum of 
 behavior is to retain a man's own dignity without intruding on the 
 dignity of others." 
 
 X Bacon did not accept the Copernician system, for which he 
 has been much maligned by moderns. 
 
 § Bacon describes such men elsewhere as "never caring, in all 
 tempests, what becomes of the ship of State so they save them- 
 selves in the cock-boat of their own fortune." 
 
230 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 against a great good of the master's : and yet that is the 
 case of bad officers, treasurers, ambassadors, generals, and 
 other false and corrupt servants ; which set a bias upon 
 their bowl, of their own petty ends and envies, to the over- 
 throw of their master's great and important affairs : and, 
 for the most part, the good such servants receive is after 
 the model of their own fortune ; but the hurt they sell for 
 that good is after the model of their master's fortune : and 
 certainly it is the nature of extreme self-lovers, as they wiU 
 set a house on fire, an * it were but to roast their eggs ; and 
 yet these men many times hold credit with their masters, 
 because their study is but to please them, and profit them- 
 selves ; and for either respect they will abandon the good of 
 their affairs. 
 
 Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches thereof, a 
 depraved thing : it is the wisdom of rats, that will be sure 
 to leave a house somewhat before it fall : it is the wisdom 
 of the fox, that thrusts out the badger, who digged and made 
 room for him : it is the wisdom of crocodiles, that shed tears 
 when they would devour. But that which is specially to be 
 noted is, that .those which (as Cicero says of Pompey) are, 
 " sui amantes, sine rivali" t are many times unfortunate ; 
 and whereas they have all their time sacrificed to themselves, 
 they become in the end themselves sacrifices to the incon- 
 stancy of fortune, whose wings they thought by their self- 
 wisdom to have pinioned. 
 
 OF INNOVATIONS. 
 
 As the births of living creatures at first are ill-shapen, so 
 are all innovations, which are the births of time ; yet not- 
 withstanding, as those that first bring honour into their 
 
 * An, i. e. if. 
 
 t Lovers of themselves, without a rival. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 231 
 
 family are commonly more worthy than most that succeed, 
 so the first precedent (if it be good) is seldom attained by 
 imitation ; for ill to man's nature as it stands perverted, 
 hath a natural motion strongest in continuance ; but good, 
 as a forced motion, strongest at first. Surely every med- 
 icine* is an innovation, and he that will not apply new 
 remedies must expect new evils ; for time is the greatest 
 innovator; and if time of course alter things to the worse, 
 and wisdom and counsel shall not alter them to the better, 
 what shall be the end ? It is true, that what is settled by 
 custom, though it be not good, yet at least it is fit ; and 
 those things which have long gone together, are, as it were, 
 confederate within themselves; whereas new things piece 
 not so weU ; but, though they help by their utility, yet they 
 trouble by their inconformity : besides, they are like stran- 
 gers, more admired, and less favoured. All this is true, if 
 time stood still ; which, contrariwise, moveth so round, that 
 a fro ward retention of custom is as turbulent a thing as an 
 innovation ; and they that reverence too much old times, are 
 but a scorn to the new. It were good, therefore, that men 
 in their innovations, would foUow the example of time itself, 
 which indeed innovateth greatly, but quietly, and by degrees 
 scarce to be perceived ; t for otherwise, whatsoever is new 
 is unlocked for; and ever it mends some, and pairs J other; 
 and he that is holpen § takes it for a fortune, and thanks the 
 time ; and he that is hurt, for a wrong, and imputeth it to 
 the author. It is good also 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 the desire of change that pretendeth 
 
 * Medicine, i. e. remedy. 
 
 + Elsewhere Bacon lays down this rule for reformers : " Let a 
 living spring flow into the stagnant waters.'' 
 j: Pairs, i, e. harms. 
 § Holpen, i. e. old preterite of help. 
 
232 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 the reformation ; * and lastly, that the novelty, though it be 
 not rejected, yet be held for a suspect; f and, as the bcnpt- 
 ure 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." 
 
 OF SEEMING WISE. 
 
 It hath been an opinion, that the French are wiser 
 than they seem, and the Spaniards seem wiser than they 
 are ; but, howsoever it be between nations, certainly it is so 
 between man and man; for as the apostle saith of godli- 
 ness, " Having a show of godliness, but denying the power 
 thereof;" so certainly there are in points of wisdom and 
 sufficiency, that do nothing or little very solemnly: '■'■magna 
 conatu nugas^'' X It is a ridiculous thing, and fit for a satire 
 
 * " New interests beget new maxims of government and new 
 methods of conduct. These, in their turn, beget new manners, 
 new habits, new customs." — Bolingbroke, "Study of liistorti," 
 Letter VI. 
 
 It is only when new interests become general that old laws, 
 which interfere with their enjoyment, should be repealed, or new 
 laws, which may better secure their enjoyment and development, 
 should be enacted. A people can suffer no greater curse than a 
 meddling legislature, which leads instead of following public 
 opinion. Every good law is moulded in the hearts of the people 
 by their wants and necessities before it is ready to be embodied 
 into a statute. It is a response to their requirements when 
 passed. The theorist who thinks he can make a people of aver- 
 age intelligence happier by the enactment of laws which they 
 have not in some way acknowledged the need of, is a reformer 
 who threatens more harm than war or pestilence. 
 
 t Suspect, i. e. suspicion. 
 
 X Achieve nothing with great labor, i. e. the mountains labor and 
 give birth to an insignificant mouse. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 233 
 
 to persons of judgment, to see what shifts these formalisls 
 have, and what prospectives * to make superficies to seem 
 body that hath depth and bulk. Some are so close and 
 resei-ved, as they will not show their wares but by a dark 
 light, and seem always to keep back somewhat ; and when 
 they know within themselves they speak of that they do not 
 well know, would nevertheless seem to others to know of 
 that which they may not well speak, f Some help them- 
 selves with countenance and gesture, and are wise by signs ; 
 as Cicero saith of Piso, that when he answered him he 
 fetched one of his brows up to his forehead, and bent the 
 other down to his chin ; " Respondes, altera adfrontem sub- 
 lato, altera ad mentum depressa supercilia, crudelitatem 
 tibi non placere" X Some think to bear it by speaking a 
 great word, and being peremptory ; and go on, and take by 
 admittance that which they cannot make good. Some, 
 whatsoever is beyond their reach, will seem to despise, or 
 make light of it as impertinent or curious : § and so would 
 have their ignorance seem judgment. Some are never with- 
 out a difference, || and commonly by amusing men with a 
 subtilty, blanch IT the matter; of whom A. Gellius saith, 
 " Hominem delirum, qui verborum, minutiis rerum frangit 
 
 * Prospective, i. e. perspective glass, which presented an object 
 in a false light. 
 
 t "Mystery, the wisdom of blockheads, may be allowed in a 
 foreign minister." — Horace Walpole, Correspondence, zd Series, 
 JV. 
 
 A French philosopher says : " Gravity is a mysterious carriage 
 of the body to cover the defects of the mind." — Rochefoucauld^ s 
 Maxims. 
 
 % " With one brow raised to your forehead, the other bent tow- 
 ard your chin, you reply that cruelty does not delight you." 
 
 § Impertinent, i. e. irrelevant. Curious, i. e. over-nice. 
 
 II Difference, i. e. fine distinction. 
 
 T Blanch, i. e. elude. 
 
234 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 pondera." * Of which kind also Plato, in his Protagoras, 
 bringeth in Prodicus in scorn, and maketh him make a 
 speech that consisteth of distinctions from the beginning to 
 the end. Generally such men, in all deliberations, find ease 
 to be of the negative side, and affect a credit to object and 
 foretell difficulties ; for when propositions are denied, 
 there is an end of them ; but if they be allowed, it requireth 
 a new work ; which false point of wisdom is the bane of 
 business. To conclude, there is no decaying merchant, or 
 inward beggar, hath so many tricks to uphold the credit of 
 their wealth, as these empty persons have to maintain the 
 credit of their sufficiency. Seeming wise men may make 
 shift to get opinion ; but let no man choose them for 
 employment; for certainly, you were better take for 
 business a man somewhat absurd than over-formal. 
 
 OF FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 It had been hard for him that spake it to have put more 
 truth and untruth together in few words than in that speech, 
 " Whosoever is delighted in solitude, is either a wild beast 
 or a god : " f for it is most true, that a natural and secret 
 hatred and aversation towards % society, in any man, hath 
 somewhat of the savage beast ; but it is most untrue, that it 
 should have any character at all of the divine nature, 
 except it proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but out 
 of a love and desire to sequester a man's self for a higher 
 conversation: such as is found to have been falsely and 
 
 * A foolish man who fritters away matters of importance by 
 silly words, /. e. a trifler. 
 
 " It is better to be doing nothing than be doing of nothing," 
 says an old philosopher. 
 
 t Aristotle. 
 
 " He who loves not others lives unblest." — Homers "Douglas." 
 
 X Aversation, i. e. aversion. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 235 
 
 feignedly in some of the heathen ; as Epiraenides, the 
 Candian; Numa, the Roman; Empedocles, the Sicilian; 
 and ApoUonius of Tyana ; and truly and really in divers of 
 the ancient hermits and holy fathers of the church. But 
 little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it 
 extendeth ; for a crowd is not company, and faces are but 
 a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal where 
 there is no love. The Latin adage meeteth with it a little : 
 '^ Magna civitas, fnagna solitudoj" * because in a great town 
 friends are scattered, so that there is not that fellowship, 
 for the most part, which is in less neighbourhoods : but we 
 may go farther, and aflSrm most truly, that it is a mere f and 
 miserable solitude to want true friends, without which the 
 world is but a wilderness ; and even in this sense also of 
 solitude, whosoever in the frame of his nature and affections 
 is unfit for friendship, he taketh it of the beast, and not 
 from humanity. 
 
 A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and discharge 
 of the fullness and swellings of the heart, which passions of 
 all kinds do cause and induce. We know diseases of stop- 
 pings and suffocations are the most dangerous in the body ; 
 and it is not much otherwise in the mind ; you may take 
 sarza X to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flower of 
 sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no 
 receipt openeth the heart but a true friend, to whom you 
 may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, 
 and whatsoever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind 
 of civil shrift or confession. 
 
 * " A great city is a great desert." 
 t Mere, i. e. utter. 
 
 " Life without a friend is death without a witness," says a 
 Spanish proverb ; and in " Gray's Elegy " is a parallel thought, or 
 the proverb paraphrased: — 
 
 " On some fond breast the parting sold relies, 
 Some pious drops the closing eye requires." 
 
 t Sarza, i. e. sarsaparilla. 
 
236 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 It is a strange thing to observe how high a rate great 
 kings and monarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship 
 whereof we speak : so great, as they purchase it many times 
 at the hazard of their own safety and greatness : for princes, 
 in regard of the distance of their fortune from that of their 
 subjects and servants, cannot gather this fruit, except (to 
 make themselves capable thereof) they raise some persons 
 to be as it were companions, and almost equals to them- 
 selves, which many times sorteth to inconvenience. The 
 modern languages give unto such persons the name of 
 favourites, or privadoes, as if it were matter of grace, or 
 conversation ; but the Roman name attaineth the true use 
 and cause thereof, naming them '■'■ participes curarum; " * for 
 it is that which tieth the knot : and we see plainly that this 
 hath been done, not by weak and passionate princes only, 
 but by the wisest and most politic that ever reigned, who 
 have oftentimes joined to themselves some of their servants, 
 whom both themselves have called friends, and allowed 
 others likewise to call them in the same manner, using the 
 word which is received between private men. 
 
 L. Sulla, when he commanded Rome, raised Pompey 
 (after surnamed The Great) to that height, that Pompey 
 vaunted himself for Sulla's overmatch; for when he had 
 carried the Consulship for a friend of his, against the pur- 
 suit of Sulla, and that Sulla did a little resent thereat, and 
 began to speak great, Pompey turned upon him again, and 
 in effect bade him be quiet; for that more men adored the 
 sun rising than the sun setting. With Julius Csesar, Dec- 
 imus Brutus had obtained that interest, as he set him down 
 in his testament for heir in remainder after his nephew; 
 and this was the man that had power with him to draw him 
 forth to his death : for when Casar would have discharged 
 the Senate, in regard of some ill presages, and specially a 
 dream of Calphurnia, tliis man lifted him gently by the arm 
 out of his chair, telling him he hoped he would not dismiss 
 
 * Partners of our sorrows. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 
 
 237 
 
 the Senate till his wife had dreamt a better dream; and it 
 seemed his favour was so great, as Antonius, in a letter 
 ■which is recited verbatim in one of Cicero's Philippics, 
 calleth him " vernifica,^'' " witch ; " as if he had enchanted 
 Cassar. Augustus raised Agrippa, (though of mean birth,) 
 to that height, as, when he consulted with Macsenas about 
 the marriage of his daughter Julia, Macsenas took the liberty 
 to tell him, that he must either marry his daughter to 
 Agrippa, or take away his life : there was no third way, he 
 had made him so great. With Tiberius Caesar, Sejanus 
 had ascended to that height as they two were termed and 
 reckoned as a pair of friends. Tiberius, in a letter to him, 
 saith, " Hcec pro amicitia nostra non occultavij " * and the 
 whole Senate dedicated an altar to friendship, as to a 
 goddess, in respect of the great dearness of friendship 
 between them two. The like, or more, was between Sep- 
 timius Severus and Plautianus ; for he forced his eldest son 
 to marry the daughter of Plautianus, and would often main- 
 tain Plautianus in doing affronts to his son ; and did write 
 also, in a letter to the Senate, by these words : " I love the 
 man so well, as I wish he may over-live me." Now, if these 
 princes had been as a Trajan, or a Marcus Aurelius, a man 
 might have thought that this had proceeded of an abundant 
 goodness of nature ; but being men so wise, of such strength 
 and severity of mind, and so extreme lovers of themselves, 
 as all these were, it proveth most plainly, that they found 
 their own felicity, (though as great as ever happened to 
 mortal men,) but as an half-piece, except they might have a 
 friend to make it entire ; and yet, which is more, they were 
 princes that had wives, sons, nephews ; yet all these could 
 not supply the comfort of friendship. 
 
 It is not to be forgotten what Comineus observeth of his 
 first master, Duke Charles the Hardy, namely, that he 
 would communicate his secrets with none ; and least of all, 
 
 * "Because of our friendship I have not concealed these 
 things." 
 
238 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 those secrets which troubled him most. Whereupon he 
 goeth on, and saith that towards his latter time that close- 
 ness did impair and a little perish his understanding. 
 Surely Comineus might have made the same judgment also, 
 if it had pleased him, of his second master, Louis the 
 Eleventh, whose closeness was indeed his tormentor. The 
 parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true, " Cor ne edito" " Eat 
 not the heart." Certainly, if a man would give it a hard 
 phrase, those that want friends to open themselves unto are 
 cannibals of their own hearts : but one thing is most admira- 
 ble (wherewith I will conclude this first fruit of friendship), 
 which is, that this communicating of a man's self to his 
 friend works two contrary effects, for it redoubleth joys, 
 and cutteth grief in halves ; for there is no man that 
 imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more : 
 and no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend, but he 
 grieveth the less. So that it is, in truth, of c; - ration upon 
 a man's mind of like virtue as the alchymists used to attri- 
 bute to their stone for man's body, that it worketh all coru 
 trary effects, but still to the good and benefit of nature : 
 but yet, without praying in aid of alchymists, there is a 
 manifest image of this in the ordinary course of nature ; 
 for, in bodies, union strengtheneth and cherisheth any nat- 
 ural action ; and, on the other side, weakeneth and duUeth 
 any violent impression ; and even so it is of minds. 
 
 The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sovereign 
 for the understanding, as the first is for the affections ; for 
 friendship maketh indeed a fair day in the affections from 
 storm and tempests, but it maketh daylight in the under- 
 standing, out of darkness and confusion of thoughts : 
 neither is this to be understood only of faithful counsel, 
 which a man receiveth from his friend; but before you 
 come to that, certain it is, that whosoever has his mind 
 fraught with many thoughts, his wits and understanding do 
 clarify and break up, in the communicating and discoursing 
 with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily; he mar- 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 
 
 239 
 
 shalleth them more orderly ; he seeth how they look when 
 they are turned into words : finally, he waxeth wiser than 
 himself; and that more by an hour's discourse than by a 
 day's meditation. It was well said by Themistocles to the 
 King of Persia, "That speech was like cloth of anas, 
 opened and put abroad ; whereby the imagery doth appear 
 in figure ; whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs." 
 Neither is this second fruit of friendship, in opening the 
 understanding, restrained only to such friends as are able 
 to give a man counsel, (they indeed are best,) but even with- 
 out that a man leameth of himself, and bringeth his own 
 thoughts to light, and whetteth his wits as against a stone, 
 which itself cuts not. In a word, a man were better relate 
 himself to a statue or picture, than to suffer his thoughts to 
 pass in smother. 
 
 Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship com- 
 plete, that other point which lieth more open, and falleth 
 within vulgar* observation: which is faithful counsel f 
 from a ^end. Heraclitus saith well in one of his enigmas, 
 " Dry light is ever the best;" and certain it is, that the light 
 that a man receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and 
 purer than that which cometh from his own understanding 
 and judgment ; which is ever infused and drenched in his 
 affections and customs. So as there is as much difference 
 between the counsel that a friend giveth, and that a man 
 
 * Vulgar, i. e. common. 
 
 t Offering advice is the most delicate ofBce of friendship. 
 Counsel is not always sincerely sought ; and too often, men in the 
 act of asking advice are seeking only approval of, or agreement 
 with, either the conclusions of their own judgments or the wishes 
 of their own hearts. Pope, who took an unfavorable view of 
 human nature, prescribes this rule for the adviser : — 
 
 *' *Tis not enough your counsel shall be true, — 
 Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do; 
 Men must be taught as tho* you taught them not, 
 And things unknown proposed as things forgot." 
 
 — ^^ Essay on Criticism.^* 
 
240 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend 
 and of a flatterer; for there is no such flatterer as is a man's 
 self, and there is no such remedy against flattery of a man s 
 self as the liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two sorts ; the 
 one concerning manners, the other concerning business: 
 for the first, the best preservative to keep the mind in 
 health is the faithful admonition of a friend. The calling 
 of a man's self to a strict account is a medicine sometimes 
 too piercing and corrosive ; reading good books of morality 
 is a little flat and dead ; observing our faults in others is 
 sometimes improper for our case ; but the best receipt (best, 
 I say, to work and best to take) is the admonition of a friend. 
 It is a strange thing to behold what gross errors and extreme 
 absurdities many (especially of the greater sort) do commit 
 for want of a friend to tell them of them, to the great damage 
 both of their fame and fortune : for, as St. James saith, they 
 are as men " that look sometimes into a glass, and presently 
 forget their own shape and favour : " as for business, a man 
 may think, if he will, that two eyes see no more than one ; 
 or, that a gamester seeth always more than a- looker-on ; or, 
 that a man in anger is as wise as he that hath said over the 
 four-and-twenty letters ; or, that a musket may be shot, off 
 as well upon the arm as upon a rest; and such other fond* 
 and high imaginations, to think himself all in aU : but when 
 ,all is done, the help of good counsel is that which setteth 
 business straight; and if any man think that he will take 
 counsel, but it shall be by pieces; asking counsel in one 
 business of one man, and in another business of another 
 man ; it is well, (that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he 
 asked none at all,) but he runneth two dangers ; one, that 
 he shall not be faithfully counselled ; for it is a rare thing, 
 except it be from a perfect and entire friend, to have coun- 
 sel given, but such as shall be bowed and crooked to some 
 ends which he hath that giveth it : the other, that he shall 
 have counsel given, hurtful and unsafe, (though with good 
 
 * Fond, i. e. foolish. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 241 
 
 meaning,) and mixed partly of mischief, and partly of 
 remedy; even as if you would call a physician, that is 
 thought good for the cure of the disease you complain of, 
 but is unacquainted with your body; and, therefore may put 
 you in a way for a present cure, but overthroweth your 
 health in some other kind, and so cure the disease, and kill 
 the patient : but a friend, that is wholly acquainted with a 
 man's estate, will beware, by furthering any present bus- 
 iness, how he dasheth upon other inconvenience ; and, there- 
 fore, rest not upon scattered counsels; they will rather 
 distract and mislead, than settle and direct. 
 
 After these two noble fraits of friendship, (peace in the 
 affections, and support of the judgment,) foUoweth the last 
 fruit, which is, like the pomegranate, full of many kernels ; 
 I mean, aid and bearing a part in all actions and occasions. 
 Here the best way to represent to life the manifold use of 
 friendship, is to cast and see how many things there are 
 which a man cannot do himself; and then it will appear 
 that it was a sparing speech of the ancients, to say, "that a 
 friend is another himself; for that a friend is far more 
 than himself." Men have their time, and die many times in 
 desire of some things which they principally take to heart ; 
 the bestowing of a child, the finishing of a work, or the 
 like. If a man have a true friend, he may rest almost 
 secure that the care of those things will continue after him ; 
 so that a man hath, as it were, two lives in his desires. A 
 man hath a bod}', and that body is confined to a place; but 
 where friendship is, all offices of life are, as it were, granted 
 to him and his deputy; for he may exercise them by his 
 friend. How many things are there which a man cannot 
 with any face, or comeliness, say or do himself? A man can 
 scarce allege his own merits with modesty, much less extol 
 them : * a man cannot sometimes brook to supplicate, or beg, 
 and a number of the like : but all these things are graceful 
 
 * " It is an abominable thing for a man to commend himself." — 
 yohn Beal, '^Divine Art of Meditations.^' A. D. 1610 
 
242 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 in a friend's mouth, which are blushing in a man's own. 
 So again, a man's person hath many proper relations which 
 he cannot put off. A man cannot speak to his son but as a 
 father ; to his wife but as a husband ; to his enemy but 
 upon terras : whereas a friend may speak as the case 
 requires, and not as it sorteth with the person : but to 
 enumerate these things were endless ; I have given the 
 rule, where a man cannot fitly play his own part, if he have 
 not a friend, he may quit the stage. * 
 
 OF EXPENSE. 
 
 Riches are for spending, and spending for honour and 
 good actions ; f therefore extraordinary expense must be 
 limited by the worth of the occasion ; for voluntary undoing 
 may be as well for a man's country as for the kingdom of 
 Heaven; but ordinary expense ought to be limited by a 
 man's estate, and governed with such regard, as it be within 
 his compass ; and not subject to deceit and abuse of ser- 
 vants ; and ordered to the best show, that the bills may be 
 less than the estimation abroad. Certainly, if a man will 
 keep but of even hand, | his ordinary expenses ought to be 
 
 * " It must be confessed that a pretended affection is not easily 
 discernible from a real one, unless in seasons of distress. For 
 adversity is to friendship what fire is to gold, the only infallible test 
 to discover the genuine from the counterfeit.^' — Cicero, Epistles. 
 
 t " Money is power, cash is virtue,'' says Byron, and it would 
 seem, from the struggle of men for wealth as for the greatest 
 good, that the sneer has more truth than poetry in it. Bacon 
 defines the uses of riches in the hands of a man who has gotten 
 wealth honestly, — who loves it not for itself, whose heart is not 
 hardened by success, who recognizes every gift, whether material 
 or mental, not entirely as his own, but as shared by his God and 
 his fellow-man, — a talent not to be buried a*ay from the latter, 
 and to be accounted for to the former. 
 
 X Keep of even hand, i. e. be prudent, not extravagant. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 243 
 
 but to the half of his receipts ; and if he think to wax rich, 
 but to the third part. It is no baseness for the greatest to 
 descend and look into their own estate. Some forbear it, 
 not upon negligence alone, but doubting* to bring them- 
 selves into melancholy, in respect they shall find it broken : 
 but wounds cannot be cured without searching. He that 
 cannot look into his own estate at all, had need both choose 
 well those whom he employeth, and change them often ; for 
 new are more timorous and less subtle. He that can look 
 into his estate but seldom, it behooveth him to turn all to 
 certainties. A man had need, if he be plentiful in some 
 kind of expense, to be as saving again in some other ; as f 
 if he be plentiful in diet, to be saving in apparel: if he be 
 plentiful in the hall, to be saving in the stable, and the like ; 
 for he that is plentiful in expenses of all kinds will hardly 
 be preserved from decay. In clearing of a man's estate, he 
 may as well hurt himself in being too sudden, as in letting 
 it run on too long; for hasty selling is commonly as dis- 
 advantageable as interest. Besides, he that clears at once 
 will relapse; for finding himself out of straits, he will 
 revert to his customs : but he that cleareth by degrees 
 induceth a habit of frugality, and gaineth as well upon his 
 mind as upon his estate. Certainly, who hath a state to 
 repair, may not despise small things; and, commonly, it is 
 less dishonourable to abridge petty charges than to stoop to 
 petty gettings. A man ought warily to begin charges, which 
 once begun will continue : but in matters that return not, he 
 may be more magnificent. 
 
 • Doubting, i. e. fearing. 
 
 t Thackeray illustrates this rule of prudence in detailing how 
 Pendennis ruined himself at Oxford by breaking it. 
 
244 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 OF SUSPICION. 
 
 Suspicions amongst thoughts are like bats amongst birds, 
 — they ever fly by twilight: certainly they are to be 
 repressed, or at the least well guarded ; for they cloud the 
 mind, they lose friends, and they check* with business, 
 whereby business cannot go on currently and constantly : 
 they dispose kings to tyranny, husbands to jealousy, wise 
 men to irresolution and melancholy : they are defects, not in 
 the heart, but in the brain ; for they take place in the stoutest 
 natures, as in the example of Henry the Seventh of Eng- 
 land ; there was not a more suspicious man nor a more 
 stout :t and in such a composition they do small hurt; for 
 commonly they are not admitted, but with examination, 
 whether they be likely or no ? but in fearful natures they 
 gain ground too fast. There is nothing makes a man sus- 
 pect much, more than to know little ; and, therefore, men 
 should remedy suspicion by procuring to know more, and 
 not to keep their suspicions in smother. What would men 
 have? do they think those they employ and deal with are 
 saints ? do they not think they will have their own ends, 
 and be truer to themselves than to them ? Therefore there 
 is no better way to moderate suspicions, than to account 
 upon such suspicions as true, and yet to bridle them as 
 false : for so far a inan ought to make use of suspicions, as 
 to provide, as if that should be true that he suspects, yet it 
 may do him no hurt. Suspicions that the mind of itself 
 gathers are but buzzes ; but suspicions that are artificially 
 nourished, and put into men's heads by the tales and whis- 
 perings of others, have stings. Certainly, the best mean, to 
 clear the way in this same wood of suspicions, is frankly to 
 communicate them with the party that he suspects ; for 
 thereby he shall be sure to know more of the truth of them 
 
 * Check, i. e. interfere. 
 
 t Stout, i. e. proud, haughty. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 
 
 245 
 
 than he did before; and withal shall make that party more 
 circumspect, not to give further cause of suspicion ; but 
 this would not be done to men of base natures ; for they, 
 if they find themselves once suspected, will never be true. 
 The Italian says, " Sospetto licentia fedej " * as if suspicion 
 did give a passport to faith ; but it ought rather to kindle 
 it to discharge itself. 
 
 OF DISCOURSE. 
 
 Some in their discourse desire rather commendation of 
 wit, in being able to hold all arguments, than of judgment, in 
 discerning what is true ; as if it were a praise to know what 
 might be said, and not what should be thought, f Some 
 have certain commonplaces and themes, wherein they are 
 good, and want variety, which kind of poverty is for the 
 most part tedious, and, when it is once perceived, ridiculous. 
 The honourablest part of talk is to give the occasion ; and 
 again to moderate and pass to somewhat else, for then a 
 man leads the dance. It is good in discourse, and speech 
 of conversation, to vary and intermingle speech of the 
 present occasion with arguments, tales with reasons, asking 
 of questions with telling of opinions, and jest with earnest : 
 
 •"Mistrust justifies infidelity, or dissolves the obligation of 
 fidelity." 
 
 Italian proverbs are not the place to look for a high code of 
 morality. One wrong cannot justify another ; a breach of promise 
 on the part of one cannot excuse a breach of confidence on the 
 part of another ; the confidence given by one's friend is none the 
 less sacred, although that friend has become your enemy. 
 
 t No society is so tedious as that of professional wits, who, like 
 the metaphysical poets, have but the one wish — of saying " what 
 they hope had never been said before." The talker's mind is on 
 a constant and painful strain after success, and the hearer's is 
 relaxed and wearied by his many failures. 
 
246 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 for it is a dull tiling to tire, and as we say now, to jade 
 anything too far. As for jest, there be certain things 
 which ought to be privileged from it; namely, religion, 
 matters of State, great persons, any man's present business 
 of importance, and any case that deserveth pity; yet there 
 be some that think their wits have been asleep, except they 
 dart out somewhat that is piquant, and to the quick ; that 
 is a vein which would be bridled ; " Parce, puer, stimulis, et 
 fortius utere loris." * And, generally, men ought to find the 
 difference between saltness and bitterness. Certainly, he 
 that hath a satirical vein, as he maketh others afraid of his 
 wit, so he had need be afraid of others' memory, f He that 
 questionccn much, shall learn much, and content much; but 
 especially if he apply his questions to the skill of the per- 
 sons whom he asketh; for he shall give them occasion to 
 please themselves in speaking, and himself shall continually 
 gather knowledge; but let his questions not be trouble- 
 some, for that is fit for a poser;} and let him be sure to 
 leave other men their turns to speak : naj', if there be any 
 that would reign and take up all the time, let him find means 
 to take them off, and to bring others on, as musicians used 
 to do with those that dance too long galliards. If you dis- 
 semble sometimes your knowledge of that you are thought 
 to know, you shall be thought, another time, to know that 
 you know not. Speech of a man's self ought to be seldom, 
 and well chosen. I knew one was wont to say in scorn, 
 " He must needs be a wise man, he speaks so much of him- 
 self : " and there is but one case wherein a man may com- 
 mend himself with good grace, and that is in commending 
 
 * " Boy, spare the spur and hold the reins tighter." 
 
 t " The mortgagor and mortgagee differ, the one from the 
 other, not more in length of purse than the jester and jestee in 
 that o£ memory." — Sterne. 
 
 " Men are satirical more from vanity than ill nature," says a 
 philosopher. 
 
 X Poser, i. e. an examiner, questioner. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 
 
 247 
 
 virtue in another, especially if it be sucli a virtue whereunto 
 himself pretendeth. Speech of touch* towards others 
 should be sparingly used | for discourse ought to be as a 
 field, without coming home to any man. I knew two noble- 
 men, of the west part of England, whereof the one was 
 given to scoff, but kept ever royal cheer in his house ; the 
 other would ask of those that had been at the other's table, 
 " Tell truly, was there never a flout or dry blow given ? " 
 To which the guest would answer, " Such and such a thing 
 passed." The lord would say, " I thought he would mar a 
 good dinner." Discretion of speech is more than eloquence ; 
 and to speak agreeably to him with whom we deal, is more 
 than to speak in good words, or in good order. A good 
 continued speech, without a good speech of interlocution, 
 shows slowness ; and a good reply, or second speech, with- 
 out a good settled speech, showeth shallowness and weak- 
 ness. As we see in beasts, that those that are weakest in 
 the course, are yet nimblest in the turn ; as it is betwixt the 
 greyhound and the hare. To use too many circumstances, 
 ere one comes to the matter, is wearisome ; to use none at 
 all, is blunt. 
 
 or RICHES. 
 
 I cannot call riches better than the baggage of virtue ; the 
 Roman word is better, " impedimenta j " for as the baggage 
 is to an army, so is riches to virtue ; it cannot be spared or 
 left behind, but it hindereth the march ; yea, and the care of 
 it sometimes loseth or disturbeth the victory; f of great 
 
 * Speech of touch, i. e. personalities of any kind, although amiable 
 and well-intentioned. 
 
 t " But Satan now is wiser than before, 
 
 And tempts by making rich, not making poor.*' 
 
 — Pope's " EfistU to BatAurst." 
 The poet refers to Job's temptation. 
 
248 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 riches there is no real use, except it be in the distribution ; 
 the rest is but conceit; so saith Solomon, "Where much is, 
 there are many to consume it, and what hath the owner but 
 the sight of it with his eyes ? " The personal fruition in 
 any man cannot reach to feel great riches : there is a 
 custody of them ; or a power of dole and donative of them ; 
 or a fame of them ; but no solid use to the owner. Do you 
 not see what feigned prices are set upon little stones and 
 rarities? and what works of ostentation are undertaken, 
 because there might seem to be some use of great riches? 
 But then you will sa)-, they may be of use to buy men out of 
 dangers or troubles; as Solomon saith, "Riches are as a 
 stronghold in the imagination of the rich man ; " but this is 
 excellently expressed, that it is in imagination, and not 
 always in fact : for, certainly, great riches have sold more 
 men than they have bought out. Seek not proud riches, 
 but such as thou mayest get justly, use soberly, distribute 
 cheerfully, and leave contentedly; yet have no abstract nor 
 friarly contempt of them ; but distinguish as Cicero saith 
 well of Rabirius Posthumus, "/« studio rei amplijicandce 
 apparebat, non avarticE prcedam, sed instrumentum bonitati 
 guceri."* Hearken also to Solomon, and beware of hasty 
 gathering of riches ; " Qui festinat ad divitias, non erit 
 insons" ^ The poets feign, that when Plutus (which is 
 riches) is sent from Jupiter, he limps and goes slowly ; but 
 when he is sent from Pluto, he runs, and is swift of foot ; 
 meaning, that riches gotten by good means and just labour 
 pace slowly; but when they come by the death of others (as 
 by the course of inheritance, testaments, and the like), they 
 come tumbling upon a man : but it might be applied likewise 
 to Pluto, taking him for the devil : for when riches come 
 from the devil (as by fraud and oppression, and unjust 
 
 * " In his anxiety to increase his fortune it was apparent that he 
 sought not the mortification of his avarice, but the means of doing 
 good." 
 
 t "He who hastens to riches will not be without guilt." 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 249 
 
 means), they come upon speed. The ways to enrich are 
 many, and most of them foul : * parsimony is one of the 
 best, and yet is not innocent; for it withholdeth men from 
 works of liberality and charity. The improvement of the 
 ground is the most natural obtaining of riches ; for it is our 
 great mother's blessing, the earth ; but it is slow ; and yet, 
 where men of great wealth do stoop to husbandry, it multi- 
 plieth riches exceedingly. I knew a nobleman in England 
 that had the greatest audits f of any man in my time, a 
 great grazier, a great sheep-master, a great timber-man, a 
 great collier, a great corn-master, a great lead-man, and so of 
 iron, and a number of the like points of husbandry ; so as 
 the earth seemed a sea to him in respect of the perpetual 
 importation. It was truly observed by one, " that himself 
 came very hardly to a little riches, and very easily to great 
 riches ; " for when a man's stock is come to that, that he can 
 expect the prime of markets, and overcome X those bargains, 
 
 • It is a weakness of human nature to rail at the subserviency, 
 low-cunning, absence of self-respect, dishonorable means, sacrifice 
 of the religion, poetry and beauty of life, characterizing the aver- 
 age greedy seeker after great riches in the beginning of his career ; 
 but in middle or old age of the millionaire, after the wealth is 
 realized, the railers become worshipers at the shrine; they do 
 not seem to care how the money was made, taking the rich man as 
 he is, not inquiring how he came to be ; then 
 
 **They hold Vespasian's rule, that no gain is unsavory.'' 
 Having the same opinion which he had in the beginning of 
 his money-making, and which is so satirically expressed by 
 Juvenal : — 
 
 " No! tho' compelled beyond the Tiber's flood 
 To move your tan-yard, swear the smell is good, 
 Myrrh, cassia, frankincense, and wisely think 
 That what is lucrative can never stink." 
 
 — Juvetuil. IV, Satire, 
 t Audits, i. e. accounts. 
 
 X Overcome, i. c. seize upon ; literally, have more than enough 
 ready money to meet the offer. 
 
2CO FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 which for their greatness are few men's money, and be part- 
 ner in the industries of younger men, he cannot but increase 
 mainly. The gains of ordinary trades and vocations are 
 honest, and furthered by two things, chiefly, by diligence, 
 and by a good name for good and fair dealing; but the gains 
 of bargains are of a more doubtful nature, when men shall 
 wait upon others' necessity; broke * by servants and instru- 
 ments to draw them on; put o£E others cunningly that 
 would be better chapmen, and the like practices, which are 
 crafty and naughty; as for the chopping of bargains, when a 
 man buys not to hold, but to sell over again, that commonly 
 grindeth double, both upon the seller and upon the buyer. 
 Sharings do greatly enrich, if the hands be well chosen that 
 are trusted. Usury is the certainest means of gain, though 
 one of the worst, as that whereby a man doth eat his bread 
 " ift sudore vultAs alienij " f and besides, doth plough 
 upon Sundays : but yet certain though it be, it hath flaws ; 
 for that the scriveners and brokers do value unsound men 
 to serve their own turn. The fortune, in being the first 
 in an invention, or in a privilege, doth cause sometimes a 
 wonderful overgrowth in riches, as it was with the first 
 sugar-man in the Canaries : therefore, if a man can play the 
 true logician, to have as well judgment as invention, he may 
 do great matters, especially if the times be fit : he that 
 resteth upon gains certain, shall hardly grow to great riches ; 
 and he that puts all upon adventures, doth oftentimes break 
 and come to poverty : it is good, therefore, to guard adven- 
 tures with certainties that may uphold losses. Monopolies, 
 and coemption of wares for re-sale, where they are not 
 restrained, are great means to enrich ; especially if the 
 party have intelligence what things are like to come into 
 request, and so store himself beforehand. Riches gotten 
 by service, though it be of the best rise, yet when they are 
 gotten by flattery, feeding humours, and other servile condi- 
 
 • Broke. To broke is to employ panders, 
 t " In the sweat of another's brow." 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 251 
 
 tions, they may be placed amongst the worst. As for fish- 
 ing for testaments and executorships (as Tacitus saith of 
 Seneca, " Tesiamenia et orbos tanquam indagine capi)"* it 
 is yet worse, by how much men submit themselves to, meaner 
 persons than in service. 
 
 Believe not much them that seem to despise riches, for 
 they despise them that despair of them ; and none worse 
 when they come to them. Be not penny-wise ; riches have 
 wings, and sometimes they fly away of themselves, some- 
 times they must be set flying to bring in more. Men leave 
 their riches either to their kindred, or to the public ; and 
 moderate portions prosper best in both. A great state left 
 to an heir, is as a lure to all the birds of prey round about to 
 seize on him, if he be not the better established in years and 
 judgment: likewise, glorious f gifts and foundations are like 
 sacrifices without salt; and but the painted sepulchres of 
 alms, which soon will putrefy and corrupt inwardly : there- 
 fore measure not thine advancements by quantity, but frame 
 them by measure : and defer not charities till death ; for, 
 certainly, if a man weigh it rightly, he that doth so is rather 
 liberal of another man's than of his own. 
 
 OF NATURE IN MEN. 
 
 Nature is often hidden, sometimes overcome, seldom 
 extinguished. Force maketh nature more violent in the 
 return ; doctrine and discourse maketh nature less impor- 
 tune ; but custom, only, doth alter and subdue nature. He 
 that seeketh victory over his nature, let him not set himself 
 too great nor too small tasks; for the first will make him 
 dejected by often failing, and the second will make him a 
 small proceeder, though by often prevailing : and at the 
 
 * " Wills and childless parents taken as with a net." 
 t Glorious, i. e. ostentatious, inspired by vanity. 
 
252 FRANCIS BACON; 
 
 first, let him practice with helps, as swimmers do with blad- 
 ders, or rushes ; but, after a time, let him practice with dis- 
 advantages, as dancers do with thick shoes ; for it breeds 
 great perfection, if the practice be harder than the use. 
 Where nature is mighty, and therefore the victory hard, the 
 degrees had need be, first to stay and arrest nature in time ; 
 like to him that would say over the four-and-twenty letters 
 when he was angry ; then to go less in quantity : as if one 
 should, in forbearing wine, come from drinking healths to a 
 draught at a meal; and lastly, to discontinue altogether: 
 but if a man have the fortitude and resolution to enfranchise 
 himself at once, that is the best : 
 
 "Optimus ille animi vindex Isedentia pectus 
 Vincula qui rupit, dedoluitque semel." * 
 
 Neither is the ancient rule amiss, to bend nature as a wand 
 to a contrary extreme, whereby to set it right; understand- 
 ing it where the contrary extreme is no vice. Let not a man 
 force a habit upon himself with a perpetual continuance, 
 but with some intermission : for the pause reinforceth the 
 new onset ; and, if a man that is not perfect be ever in prac- 
 tice, he shall as well practice his errors as his abilities, and 
 induce one habit of both; and there is no means to help 
 this but by seasonable intermissions ; but let not a man 
 trust his victory over his nature too far ; for nature will lie 
 buried a great time, and yet revive upon the occasion, or 
 temptation ; f like as it was with ^Esop's damsel, turned 
 from a cat to a woman, who sat very demurely at the 
 
 * " He is the best asserter of intelligence who bursts the bonds 
 that gall him, and ends his grief at once." — Ovid's " Remedy for 
 Lover 
 
 t " No mortal footing treads so firm in virtue 
 As always to abide the slippery path, 
 Nor deviate with the bias. Some have few, 
 But each man has his failing — some defect 
 Wherein to slide temptation." 
 
 — Brooke's ' ' Gusiavus Vasa," Act II., sc. t. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 253 
 
 board's end till a mouse ran before her : therefore, let a man 
 either avoid the occasion altogether, or put himself often to 
 it, that he may be little moved with it. A man's nature is 
 best perceived in privateness ; for there is no affectation 
 in passion ; for that putteth a man out of his precepts, and 
 in a new case or experiment, for there custom leaveth him. 
 They are happy men whose natures sort with their voca- 
 tions ; otherwise they may say, " Mulium incolafiiit anima 
 mea"* when they converse in those things they do not 
 affect. In studies, whatsoever a man commandeth upon 
 himself, let him set hours for it ; but whatsoever is agreea- 
 ble to his nature, let him take no care for any set times ; for 
 his thoughts will fly to it of themselves, so as the spaces of 
 other business or studies will suffice. A man's nature runs 
 either to herbs or weeds ; therefore let him seasonably water 
 the one, and destroy the other, f 
 
 OF YOUTH AND AGE. 
 
 A man that is young in years may be old in hours, if he 
 have lost no time ; but that happeneth rarely. Generally, 
 youth is hke the first cogitations, not so wise as the second : 
 for there is a youth in thoughts, as well as in ages ; % and 
 yet the invention of young men, is more lively than that of 
 old, and imaginations stream into their minds better, and, as 
 it were, more -divinely. Natures that have much heat, and 
 
 * " My soul has long been a sojourner." 
 
 t " The mind that lies fallow for a single day sprouts up in 
 follies that are only to be killed by constant and assiduous 
 culture.'' — Addison. 
 
 X "In youth, indeed, there is a certain irregularity and agitation 
 by no means unbecoming ; but in age, when business is unsea- 
 sonable and ambition indecent, all should be calm and uniform." — 
 Pliny's " EfistUs." 
 
254 
 
 FRANCIS BACON: 
 
 great and violent desires and perturbations, are not ripe for 
 action till they have passed the meridian of their years : as 
 it was with Julius CEsar and Septimus Severus ; of the latter 
 of whom it is said, ''Juventutem egit, erroribus, imofurori- 
 Juisjilenamj'" * and yet he was the ablest emperor, almost, 
 of all the list : but reposed natures may do well in youth, as 
 it is seen in Augustus Ctesar, Cosmos, Dnke of Florence, 
 Gaston de Foix, and others. On the other side, heat and 
 vivacity in age is an excellent composition for business. 
 Young men are fitter to invent, than to judge ; fitter for exe- 
 cution than for counsel ; and fitter for new projects than for 
 settled business ; for the experience of age, in things that 
 ■fall within the compass of it, directeth them : but in new 
 things abuseth them. The errors" of young men are the ruin 
 of business ; but the errors of aged men amount but to this, 
 that more might have been done, or sooner. 
 
 Young men, in the conduct and manage of actions, 
 embrace more than they can hold ; stir more than they can 
 quiet; fly to the end, without consideration of the means 
 and degrees ; pursue some few principles which they have 
 chanced upon absurdly ; care not to innovate, f which 
 draws unknown inconveniences ; use extreme remedies at 
 first ; and that, which doubleth all errors, will not acknowl- 
 edge or retract them, like an unruly horse that will neither 
 stop nor turn. Men of age object too much, consult too 
 long, adventure too little, repent too soon, and seldom drive 
 business home to the full period, but content themselves 
 with a mediocrity of success. Certainly it is good to com- 
 pound emplo}Tnents of both ; for that will be good for the 
 present, because the virtues of either age may correct the 
 defects of both ; and good for succession, that young men 
 may be learners, while men in age are actors ; and, lastly, 
 good for external accidents, because authority foUoweth old 
 men, and favour and popularity youths : but, for the moral 
 
 * " His youth was full of errors and even of frantic passions." 
 t Are not careful in innovating. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 25s 
 
 part, perhaps, youth will harve the preemmence, as age hath 
 for the politic. A certain rabbin upon the text, " Your 
 young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream 
 dreams," inferreth that young men are admitted nearer to 
 God than old, because vision is a clearer revelation than a 
 dream: and, certainly, the more a man drinketh of the 
 world, the more it intoxicateth : and age doth profit rather 
 in the powers of understanding, than in the virtues * of the 
 will and affections. There be some have an over-early ripe- 
 ness in their years, which fadeth betimes : these are, first, 
 such as have brittle wits, the edge whereof is soon turned : 
 such as was Hermogenes f the rhetorician, whose books are 
 exceeding subtile, who afterwards waxed stupid : a second 
 sort is of those that have some natural dispositions, which 
 have better grace in youth than in age ; such as is a fluent 
 and luxuriant speech, which becomes youth well, but not 
 age : so TuUy saith of Hortentius, " Idem manebat, neque 
 idem decebat; " % the third is of such as take too high a strain 
 at the first, and are magnanimous more than tract of years 
 can uphold ; as was Scipio Africanus, of whom Livy saitli 
 in effect, " Ultima primis cedebanty § 
 
 OF BEAUTY. 
 
 Virtue is like a rich stone, best plain set ; and surely 
 virtue is best in a body that is comely, though not of del- 
 icate features ; and that hath rather dignity of presence, than 
 beauty of aspect ; neither is it almost {| seen, that very beau- 
 
 •"We abandon not vices so much as we change them." — 
 Montaigne. 
 
 t " The vivacity which augments with age is not far from 
 folly." — Rochefoucauld. 
 
 t "He remained the same; but the same was no longer 
 becoming to him." 
 
 § "His last deeds fell short of his first." 
 
 il Almost, i. c. generally. 
 
256 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 tiful persons are otherwise of great virtue ; as if narture were 
 rather busy not to err, than in labour to produce excellency ; 
 and therefore they prove accomplished, but not of great 
 spirit; and study rather behaviour, than virtue. But this 
 holds not always : for Augustus Csesar, Titus Vespasianus, 
 Philip le Bel of France, Edward the Fourth of England, 
 Alcibiades of Athens, Ismael, the Sophy of Persia, were all 
 high and great spirits, and yet the most beautiful men of 
 their times. In beauty, that of favour, is more than that of 
 colour ; and that of decent and gracious motion, more than 
 that of favour. That is the best part of beauty, which a 
 picture cannot express ; * no, nor the first sight of the life. 
 There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness 
 in the proportion. A man cannot tell whether Apelles or 
 Albert Durer were the more trifler ; whereof the one would 
 make a personage by geometrical proportions : the other, by 
 taking the best parts out of divers faces, to make one excel- 
 lent. Such personages, I think, would please nobody but 
 the painter that made them; not but I think a painter may 
 make a better face than ever was ; but he must do it by a 
 kind of felicity, (as a musician that maketh an excellent air 
 in music) and not by rule. A man shall see faces, that, if 
 you examine them part by part, you shall find never a good ; " 
 and yet altogether do well. If it be true, that the principal 
 part of beauty, is in decent motion, certainly it is no marvel, 
 though persons in years seem many times more amiable; 
 ^'' Pulchrorum auiummis pulcherj" ^ for no youth can be 
 comely but by pardon, and considering the youth as to make 
 up the comeliness. Beauty is as summer-fruits, which are 
 easy to corrupt, and cannot last ; and, for the most part, it 
 makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of counte- 
 nance; but yet certainly again, if it light well, it maketh 
 virtues shine, and vices blush. 
 
 * " Beauty is the lover's gift." — Congreve. 
 t " The autumn of the beautiful is beautiful." 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 257 
 
 OF STUDIES. 
 
 Studies serve for delight, for omanient, and for ability. 
 Their chief use for delight, is in privateness and retiring ; 
 for ornament, is in discourse ; and for ability, is in the 
 judgment and disposition of business ; for expert men can 
 execute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one : but 
 the general counsels, and the plots and marshalling of affairs 
 come best from those that are learned. To spend too much 
 time in studies, is sloth ; to use them too much for orna- 
 ment, is affectation; to make judgment wholly by their 
 rules, is the humour of a scholar : they perfect nature, and 
 are perfected by experience : for natural abilities are like 
 natural plants, that need pruning by study; and studies 
 themselves do give forth directions too much at large, 
 except they be bounded in by experience. Crafty men con- 
 temn studies, simple men admire them, and wise men use 
 them ; for they teach not their own use ; but that is a wis- 
 dom without them, and above them, won by observation. 
 ' Read not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take 
 ) for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and 
 (consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swal- 
 lowed, and some few to be chewed and digested ; that is, 
 some books are to be read only in parts ; others to be read, 
 but not curiously ; * and some few to be read wholly, and 
 with diligence and attention. Some books also may be 
 read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others ; but 
 that would be only in the less important arguments, and the 
 meaner sort of books ; else distilled books are, like common 
 distUled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man ; 
 conference a ready man ; and writing an exact man ; and, 
 therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great 
 memory ; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit : 
 
 • Curiously, i. e. very attentively. 
 
258 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, * to 
 seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men wise ; 
 poets witty ; the mathematics subtile ; natural philosophy- 
 deep; moral, grave; logic and rhetoric, able to contend; 
 "■Abeunt studia in mores; " f nay, there is no stond or imped- 
 iment in the wit, but may be wrought out by fit studies : like 
 as diseases of the body may have appropriate exercises ; 
 bowling is good for the stone and reins, shooting for the 
 lungs and breast, gentle walking for the stomach, riding for 
 the head, and the like ; so, if a man's wit be wandering, 
 let him study the mathematics ; for in demonstrations, if his 
 w;t be called away never so little, he must begin again ; if 
 his wit be not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him 
 study the schoolmen, for they are " Cymini sectaresj " J if he 
 be not apt to beat over matters, and. to call upon one thing to 
 prove and illustrate another, let him study the lawyers' 
 cases : so every defect of the mind may have a special 
 receipt. 
 
 OF PRAISE. 
 
 Praise is the reflection of virtue, but it is as the glass, or 
 body, which giveth the reflection ; if it be from the common 
 people, it is commonly false and naught, and rather foUoweth 
 vain persons than virtuous : for the common people under- 
 stand not many excellent virtues : the lowest virtues draw 
 praise from them, the middle virtues work in them astonish- 
 ment or admiration ; but of the highest virtues they have no 
 sense or perceiving at all ; but shows and ^'species virtutibus 
 
 * " The wit of one man can no more countervail learning than 
 one man's means can hold way with a common purse." — Ad. of 
 Learning. 
 
 t " Studies grow into habits and manners.'' 
 
 X Splitters of cummin, i. e. hair-splitters. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 259 
 
 similes" * serve best with them. Certainly, fame is lilce a 
 river, that beareth up things light and swollen, and drowns 
 things weighty and solid ; but if persons of quality and 
 judgment concur, then it is (as the Scripture saith) " Nomen 
 bonum instar unguenti fragrantis j" \ it filleth all round 
 about, and will not easily away; for the odours of ointments 
 are more durable than those of flowers. 
 
 There be so many false points of praise, that a man 
 may justly hold it a suspect. Some praises proceed merely 
 of flattery; and if he be an ordinary flatterer, he will have 
 certain common attributes, which may serve every man ; if 
 he be a cunning flatterer, he will follow the arch flatterer, 
 which is a man's self, and wherein a man thinketh best of 
 himself, therein the flatterer will uphold him most : but if he 
 be an impudent flatterer, look wherein a man is conscious to 
 himself that he is most defective, and is most out of counte- 
 nance in himself, that will the flatterer entitle him to, per- 
 force, " spreta conscientia" % Some praises come of good 
 wishes and respects, which is a form due in civility to kings 
 and great persons, " laudando pracipere ; " § when by telling 
 men what they are, they represent to them what they 
 should be : some men are praised maliciously to their hurt, 
 thereby to stir envy and jealousy towards them ; " Pessimum 
 genus inimicorum laudantiumj " || insomuch as it was a pro- 
 verb amongst the Grecians, that, " he that was praised to his 
 hurt, should have a push IT rise upon his nose ;" as we say, that 
 a blister will rise upon one's tongue that tells a lie ; cer- 
 tainly, moderate praise, used with opportunity, and not vul- 
 gar, is that which doth the good. Solomon saith, " He that 
 praiseth his friend aloud, rising early, it shall be to him no 
 
 * " Appearances resembling virtues." 
 
 t " A good name is like fragrant ointment." 
 
 % " Conscience being turned out of doors." 
 
 § " To teach by praising." 
 
 II " Flatterers are the worst enemies." 
 
 1 Push, i. e. blister, pimple. 
 
26o FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 better than a curse." Too much magnifying of man or mat- 
 ter doth irritate contradiction, and procure envy and scorn. 
 To praise a man's self cannot be decent, except it be in rare 
 cases ; but to praise a man's office or profession, he may do 
 it with good grace, and with a Icind of magnanimity. The 
 Cardinals of Rome, which are theologues, and friars, and 
 schoohnen, have a phrase of notable contempt and scorn 
 towards civil business, for they call all temporal business 
 of wars, embassages, judicature, and other employments, 
 sirrbirie, which is under-sheriffries, as if they were but mat- 
 ters for under-sheriffs and catchpoles ; though many times 
 those under-sheriffries do more good than their high specu- 
 lations. St. Paul, when he boasts of himself, he doth oft 
 interlace, " I speak like a fool ;'' but speaking of his calling, 
 he saith, " Magnificabo apostolaium meum" * 
 
 OF JUDICATURE. 
 
 Judges ought to remember that their office is "jus dicere^'' 
 and not '■^jtis dare;" to interpret law, and not to make law, or 
 give law ; else will it be like the authority claimed by the 
 Church of Rome, which under pretext of exposition of Scrip- 
 ture, doth not stick to add and alter, and to pronounce that, 
 which they do not find, and by show of antiquity to introduce 
 
 * " I will magnify my apostleship." 
 
 Sir Walter Scott says that undeserved or exaggerated praise is 
 the worst kind of satire. 
 
 t In this essay, and in the two succeeding extracts from Bacon's 
 works on "The Essentials o£ a Good Judge," the reader will 
 recognize, if he has seen of what stuff some judges are made, 
 and has had any experience in courts of justice, how keen an 
 observer Bacon was, how well he knew the qualities of a good, 
 and the failings of a bad, judge. 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 261 
 
 novelty. Judges ought to be more learned than witty, more 
 reverend, than plausible, and more advised, * than confident. 
 Above all things, integrity is their portion and proper virtue. 
 "Cursed," (saith the law,) "is he that removeth the land- 
 mark." The mislayer of a mere stone is to blame ; but it is 
 the unjust judge that is the capital remover of landmarks, 
 when he defineth amiss of lands and property. One foul 
 sentence doth more hurt than many foul examples ; for these 
 do but corrupt the stream, the other corrupteth the fountain: 
 so saith Solomon, "J^ons turbatus, et vena corrupta est 
 Justus cadens in causa sua coram adversaria.'" f 
 
 The office of judges may have reference unto the parties 
 that sue, unto the advocates that plead, unto the clerks and 
 ministers of justice underneath them, and to the sovereign 
 or State above them. 
 
 First, for the causes or parties that sue. " There be," 
 (saith the Scripture,) " that turn judgment into wormwood ; " 
 and surely there be, also, that turn it into vinegar ; for injus- 
 tice maketh it bitter, and delays make it sour. The princi- 
 pal duty of a judge is, to suppress force and fraud ; whereof 
 force is the more pernicious when it is open, and fraud when 
 it is close and disguised. Add thereto contentious suits, 
 which ought to be spewed out, as the surfeit of courts. A 
 judge ought to prepare his way to a just sentence, as God 
 useth to prepare His way, by raising valleys and taking 
 down hills : so when there appeareth on either side an high 
 hand, violent prosecution, cunning advantages taken, combi- 
 nation, power, great counsel, then is the virtue of a judge 
 seen to make inequality equal ; that he may plant his judg- 
 ment as upon an even ground. % " Quifortiter emungit, elicit 
 
 * Advised, i. c. careful. 
 
 t A just man, failing in his cause before his adversary, is as a 
 troubled fountain and corrupt spring. 
 
 X "English jurisprudence," says the great English lawyer, 
 Dunning, " has the good of the people for its basis, and the accu- 
 mulated wisdom of ages for its improvement." The people are 
 
262 FRANCIS BACON.; 
 
 sanguinems " and where the wine-press is hard wrought, it 
 yields a harsh wine, that tastes of the grape-stone. Judges 
 must beware of hard constructions, and strained inferences ; 
 for there is no worse torture than the torture of laws : espe- 
 cially in case of laws penal, they ought to have care that 
 
 made up of individuals as a bucket of water is made up of drops 
 of water ; color one drop and the whole body is affected, although 
 in an almost imperceptible degree ; let injustice be done to one 
 man by the instruments of justice, and the whole body of the 
 people, society, is affected, for every private wrong is in some 
 sense a public injury. The theory is, that our lives, liberty and 
 property are subject to the administration of justice, and the 
 agents of justice are the judge on the bench, the lawyer at the 
 bar, the jury in the box. 
 
 -The lawyer is in one sense as much an agent of justice as a 
 judge; he is a sworn officer of the court, and has moral as well 
 as legal obligations to society. The theory of a lawyer's duty is 
 to take the straight and honest path to the goal of truth. If 
 his client and client's cause are not false and fraudulent, they will 
 not fall by the wayside. In the Harlean MSS. is the following: 
 "In this peerless Queen's (Elizabeth) reign it is reported that 
 there was but one sergeant-at-law at the Common Pleas bar 
 (Sergeant Benlowes) who was ordered to plead for the plaintiff 
 and defendant, for which he was to take of each party ten groats, 
 and no more ; and to manifest his impartial dealing to both par- 
 ties, he was therefore to wear a parti-colored gown, and to have a 
 black cap on his head of impartial justice, and under it a white 
 linen coif of innocence." 
 
 Things as well as theory have greatly changed since the virgin 
 queen's virtuous time. Macaulay, speaking of the modern road 
 to justice, says, in substance, that the English judge goes 
 straightway to the right of a cause, after it has been most unfairly 
 and deceitfully argued by the lawyers on both sides. 
 
 It is a sad reflection, that " for time whereof the memory of man 
 runneth not to the contrary," courts of justice have been too fre- 
 quently regarded as asylums for the unjust; and that although 
 partisan judges and corrupt juries have often contributed to the 
 creation of this feeling of mistrust, the bar itself is most to blame 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 263 
 
 that which was meant for terror be not turned into rigour: 
 and that they bring not upon the people that shower whereof 
 the Scripture speaketh, "Pluet super eos laqueosj " * for penal 
 laws pressed, are a shower of snares upon the people : there- 
 fore let penal laws, if they have been sleepers of long, or if 
 they be grown unfit for the present time, be by wise judges 
 confined in the execution : "Judicis officium est, ut res, ita 
 tempora rerum,^' etc. f In causes of life and death, judges 
 ought, (as far as the law permitteth) in justice, to rememlDer 
 mercy, % and to cast a severe eye upon the example, but a 
 merciful eye upon the person. 
 
 Secondly, for the advocates and counsel that plead. 
 Patience and gravity of hearing is an essential part of jus- 
 
 on account of the lawyer, the officer of the court, the agent of 
 government and society, becoming the mere advocate of a client's 
 cause, right or wrong, true or false. " We who are conversant in 
 the real contentions of the bar," says Pliny, "unadvisedly con- 
 tract a certain artfulness, however contrary to our natural tem- 
 pers." If so honorable an ancient writes thus of himself and his 
 profession, we should not be surprised that other fingers should 
 be pointed at its frailties. Martial thus describes a certain class 
 of lawyers, Iras et verba locant, as men who hire out their words 
 and anger. Charles James Fox speaks of that glorious uncer- 
 tainty which always attends the law ; and Sir Pertinax Macsyco- 
 phant says the glorious uncertainty of law is of more use to its 
 professors than the justice of it. Horace Walpole calls it — 
 law — a horrid liar, and adds that he never believes a word it 
 says until the final decision. But Lord Bolingbroke truly 
 describes it as in its nature the noblest and most beneficent to 
 mankind ; in its abuse and abasement, the most sordid and the 
 most pernicious. 
 
 * He will rain snares upon them. 
 
 t It is the duty of a judge to consider not only the facts but the 
 particulars of the case. 
 
 X " Humanity is the second virtue of courts, but undoubtedly 
 the first is justice." — Lord Storwell. Evans vs. Evans. T. Hag- 
 gard, 
 
264 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 tice ; and an over-speaking judge is no well-tuned C3rnibal. 
 It is no grace to a judge first to find that which he might 
 have heard in due time from the bar ; or to show quickness 
 of conceit in cutting off evidence or counsel too short, or to 
 prevent * information by questions, though pertinent. The 
 parts of a judge in hearing are four: to direct the evi- 
 dence; to moderate length, repetition, or impertinency of 
 speech; to recapitulate, select, and collate the material 
 points of that which hath been said, and to give the rule or 
 sentence. Whatsoever is above these is too much, and 
 proceedeth either of glory f and willingness to speak, or of 
 impatience to hear, or of shortness of memory, or of want 
 of a staid and equal attention. It is a strange thing to see 
 that the boldness of advocates should prevail with judges; 
 whereas they should imitate God, in whose seat they sit, 
 who represseth the presumptuous, and giveth grace to the 
 modest : but it is more strange, that judges should have 
 noted favourites, which cannot but cause multiplication of 
 fees, and suspicion of by-ways. There is due from the judge 
 to the advocate some commendation and gracing, where 
 causes are well handled and fair pleaded, especially towards 
 the side which obtaineth not ; for that upholds in the client 
 the reputation of his counsel, and beats down in him the 
 conceit of his cause. There is likewise due to the public a 
 civil reprehension of advocates, where there appeareth cun- 
 ning counsel, gross neglect, slight information, indiscreet 
 pressing, or an over-bold defense ; and let not the counsel 
 at the bar chop with the judge, nor wind himself into the 
 handling of the cause anew after the judge hath declared his 
 sentence ;t but, on the other side, let not the judge meet 
 
 * Prevent, i. e. forestall, anticipate. 
 
 t Glory, i. e. pride of knowledge, display. 
 
 X Lord Chancellor EUesmere ordered Lawyer Mylward's head 
 to be stuck through a replication, on account of its length.— Z/z/w 
 of Lord Chancellors, Vol II., soy. 
 
 Lord Chancellor Maynard said, "Law is ars bablitiva." 
 
HIS ESSAYS. 265 
 
 tlie cause half way, nor give occasion to the party to say, his 
 counsel or proofs were not heard. 
 
 Thirdly, for that that concerns clerks and ministers. The 
 place of justice is an hallowed place ; and therefore not only 
 tlie bench but the footpace and precincts, and purprise 
 thereof ought to be preserved without scandal and corrup- 
 tion; for, certainly, " Grapes," (as the Scripture saith,) "will 
 not be gathered of thorns or thistles ; " neither can Justice 
 yield her fruit with sweetness amongst the briars and bram- 
 bles of catching and polling clerks and ministers. The 
 attendance of courts is subject to four bad instruments : 
 first, certain persons that are sowers of suits, which make 
 the court swell, and the country pine : the second sort is of 
 those that engage courts in quarrels of jurisdiction, and are 
 not truly " amid curies" but "parasiti curia" * in puffing a 
 court up beyond her bounds for their own scraps and advan- 
 tage : the third sort is of those that may be accounted the left 
 hands of courts : persons that are full of nimble and sinister 
 tricks and shifts, whereby they pervert the plain and direct 
 courses of courts, and bring justice into oblique lines and 
 labyrinths : and the fourth is the poller and exacter of fees : 
 which justifies the common resemblance of the courts of 
 justice to the bush, whereunto, while the sheep flies for 
 defense in weather, he is sure to lose part of his fleece. 
 On the other side, an ancient clerk, skillful in precedents, 
 wary in proceeding, and understanding in the business of 
 the court, is an excellent finger of a court, and doth many 
 times point the way to the judge himself. 
 
 Fourthly, for that which may concern the sovereign and 
 estate. Judges ought, above all, to remember the conclu- 
 sion of the Roman Twelve Tables, " Stilus popuH suprema 
 lex; " \ and to know that laws, except they be in order to 
 that end, are but things captious, and oracles not well 
 inspired : therefore it is an happy thing in a State, when 
 
 * Not "friends of court," but "parasites of court." 
 t " The safety of the people is the supreme law.'' 
 
266 FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 kings and states do often consult with judges ; and again, 
 When judges do often consult with the king and state : the 
 one, when there is matter of law intervenient in business of 
 state ; the other, when there is some consideration of state 
 intervenient in matter of law ; for many times the things 
 deduced to judgment may be' "meutn''' and " fuum" when the 
 reason and consequence thereof may trench to point of 
 estate : I call matter of estate, not only the parts of sov- 
 ereignty, but whatsoever introduceth any great alteration, or 
 dangerous precedent ; or concerneth manifestly any great 
 portion of people : and let no man weakly conceive that just 
 laws, and true policy, have any antipathy ; for they are like 
 the spirits and sinews, that one moves with the other. Let 
 judges also remember, that Solomon's throne was supported 
 by lions on both sides : let them be lions, but yet lions 
 under the throne : being circumspect, that they do not check 
 or oppose any points of sovereignty. Let not judges also 
 be so ignorant of their own right, as to think there is not 
 left them, as a principal part of their office, a wise use and 
 application of laws ; for they may remember what the apostle 
 saith of a greater law than theirs : " JVos scimus quia lex 
 bona est, tnodo quis ed utatur legitime." * 
 
 * "We know that the law is good if a man use it lawfully." 
 
EXTRACTS 
 
 THE LINES AND PORTRAITURE OF A GOOD 
 JUDGE. 
 
 HIS lordship's speech in the common pleas to jus- 
 tice HUTTON, WHEN HE WAS CALLED TO BE ONE OF 
 THE JUDGES OF THE COMMON PLEAS. 
 
 Mr. Serjeant Hutton, The King's most excellent Maj- 
 esty, being duly informed of your learning, integrity, discre- 
 tion, experience, means, and reputation in your country, hath 
 thought fit not to leave you these talents to be employed 
 upon yourself only, but to call you to serve himself, and his 
 people, in the place of one of his justices of the court of 
 common pleas. 
 
 This court where you are to serve, is the local centre and 
 heart of the laws of this realm : . . . here justice opens not 
 by a by-gate of privilege, but the great gate of the King's 
 original writs out of the chancery. And therefore it is 
 proper for you, by all means, with your wisdom and fortitude, 
 to maintain the laws of the realm : wherein, nevertheless, I 
 would not have you head-strong, but heart-strong. . . . To 
 represent unto you the lines and portraitures of a good 
 judge : 
 
 I. The first is, that you should draw your learning out of 
 your books, not out of your brain. * 
 
 * " With discretion to conceal ignorance, a little learning goes 
 a great way on the bench." — Lives of Lord Chancellors, II., 14. 
 
268 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 2. That you should mix well the freedom of your own 
 opinion with the reverence of the opinion of your fellows. 
 
 3. That you should continue the studying of your books, 
 and not to spend on upon the old stock. 
 
 4. That you should fear no man's face, * and yet not 
 turn stoutness into bravery. 
 
 5. That you should be truly impartial, f and not so as 
 men may see affection through fine carriage. 
 
 6. That you should be a light to jurors to open their eyes, 
 but not a guide to lead them by the noses. 
 
 7. That you affect not the opinion of pregnancy and ex- 
 pedition by an impatient and catching hearing of the coun- 
 sellors at the bar. 
 
 8. That your speech be with gravity, as one of the sages 
 of the law ; and not talkative, nor with impertinent flying out 
 to shew learning. 
 
 9. 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 ones or small ones, i 
 
 10. That you contain the jurisdiction of the court within 
 the ancient merestones, without removing the mark. § 
 
 11. Lastly, that you carry such a hand over your minis- 
 ters and clerks, as that they may rather be in awe of you, 
 than presume upon you. 
 
 * " An ignorant man cannot, a coward dares not, be a good 
 judge.'' — Bacon's Advice to Villiers. 
 
 t A judge in the Isle of Man takes an offlcial oath which con- 
 cludes as follows : " I will execute the laws of this isle betwixt 
 party and party as indifferently as the herring's backbone doth 
 lie in the midst of the fish." 
 
 X " For gold his sword the hh-eling ruffian draws, 
 For gold the hireling judge distorts the laws.'* 
 
 — Johnson's Vanity of HuTnan Wishes. 
 
 § "The discretion of a judge is the law of tyrants.'' — Lord 
 Camden. 
 
EXTRACTS. 269 
 
 MATTERS CONCERNING JUSTICE AND THE 
 LAWS, AND THE PROFESSORS THEREOF. 
 
 But because the life of the laws lies in the due execution 
 and administration of them, let your eye be, in the first place, 
 upon the choice of good judges : these properties had they 
 need to be furnished with : to be learned in their profession, 
 patient in hearing, prudent in governing, powerful in their 
 elocution to persuade and satisfy both the parties and hear- 
 ers, just in judgment; and, to sum up all, they must have 
 these three attributes : they must be men of courage, fearing 
 God and hating covetousness ; an ignorant man cannot, a 
 coward dares not, be a good judge. . . . Judges must be as 
 chaste as Caesar's wife, neither to be, nor to be suspected to 
 be, unjust. 
 
 If any sue to be made a judge, for my own part I should 
 suspect him, but if either directly or indirectly he should 
 bargain for a place of judicature, let him be rejected with 
 shame: vendere jure potest, emerat ille prius. — Advice to 
 Sir George Villiers. 
 
 ANSWER TO POLITICIANS. 
 
 PRAISE OF KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 For matter of policy and government, that learning 
 should rather hurt, than enable thereunto, is a thing very 
 improbable : we see it is accounted an error to commit a nat- 
 ural body to empiric physicians, which commonly have a few 
 pleasing receipts, whereupon they are confident and advent- 
 urous, but know neither the causes of diseases, nor the 
 complexfons of patients, nor peril of accidents, nor the true 
 method of cures; we see it is a like error to rely upon 
 
270 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 advocates or lawyers, which are only men of practice, and 
 not grounded in their boolcs, who are many times easily sur- 
 prised, when matter falleth out besides their experience, to 
 the prejudice of the causes they handle : so, by like reason, 
 it cannot be but a matter of doubtful consequence, if states be 
 managed by empiric statesmen, not well mingled with men 
 grounded in learning. But contrariwise, it is almost with- 
 out instance contradictory, that ever any government was 
 disastrous that was in the hands of learned governors. For 
 howsoever it hath been ordinary with politic men to exten- 
 uate and disable learned men by the name of pedants ; yet 
 in the records of time it appeareth, in many particulars, that 
 the governments of princes in minority (notwithstanding the 
 infinite disadvantage of that kind of state) have nevertheless 
 excelled the government of princes of mature age, even for 
 that reason which they seek to traduce, which is, by that 
 occasion the state hath been in the hands of pedants : for 
 so was the state of Rome for the first five years, which ,are 
 so much magnified, during the minority of Nero, in the 
 hands of Seneca, a pedant : so it was again, for ten years' 
 space or more, during the minority of Gordianus the 
 younger, with great applause and contentation in the hands 
 of Misitheus, a pedant: so was it before that, in the 
 minority of Alexander Severus, in like happiness, in hands 
 not much unlike, by reason of the rule of the women, 
 who were aided by the teachers and preceptors. Nay, 
 let a man look into the government of the bishops of 
 Rome, as by name, into the government of Pius Quintus, 
 and Sextus Quintus, in our timeSj who were both at their 
 entrance esteemed but as pedantical friars, and he shall 
 find that such popes do greater things, and proceed upon 
 truer principles of estate, than those which have ascended 
 to the papacy from an education and breeding in affairs 
 of estate and courts of princes ; for although men bred in 
 learning are perhaps to seek in points of convenience, 
 and accommodating for the present, which the Italians call 
 " ragioni di stato" whereof the same Pius Quintus could 
 
EXTRACTS. 271 
 
 not here spoken with patience, terming them inventions 
 against religion and the moral virtues ; yet on the other 
 side, to recompense that, they are perfect in those same plain 
 grounds of religion, justice, honour, and moral virtue, 
 whicli if they be well and watchfully pursued, there will be 
 seldom use of those other, nor more than of physic in a 
 sound or well-dieted body. Neither can the experience of 
 one man's life furnisli examples and precedents for the 
 events of one man's life : for, as it happeneth sometimes 
 that the grandchild, or other descendant, resembleth the 
 ancestor more than the son; so many times occurrences of 
 present times may sort better with ancient examples, than 
 with those of the latter or immediate times : and lastly, the 
 wit of one man can no more countervail learning, than one 
 man's means can hold way with a common purse. And for 
 the conceit, that learning should dispose men to leisure and 
 privateness, and make men slothful ; it were a strange thing 
 if that, which accustometh the mind to a perpetual motion 
 and agitation, should induce slothfulness ; whereas contrari- 
 wise it may be truly affirmed, that no kind of men love 
 business for itself, but those that are learned; for other 
 persons love it for profit, as an hireling, that loves the work 
 for the wages ; or for honour, as because it beareth them 
 up in the eyes of men, and refresheth their reputation, which 
 otherwise would wear; or because it putteth them in mind 
 of their fortune, and giveth them occasion to pleasure and 
 displeasure ; or because it exerciseth some faculty wherein 
 they take pride, and so entertaineth them in good humour 
 and pleasing conceits toward themselves; or because it 
 advanceth any other their ends. So that, as it is said of 
 untrue valours, that some men's valours are in the eyes of 
 them that look on; so such men's industries are in the eyes 
 of others, or at least in regard of their own designments : 
 only learned men love business, as an action according to 
 nature, as agreeable to health of mind, as exercise is to 
 health of body, taking pleasure in the action itself, and not 
 
272 FRANCIS bacon; 
 
 in the purchase : so that of all men they are the most inde- 
 fatigable, if it be towards any business which can hold or 
 detain their mind. 
 
 And if any man be laborious in reading and study, and 
 yet idle in business and action, it groweth from some weak- 
 ness of body, or softness of spirit; and not of learning: 
 well may it be, that such a point of man's nature may make 
 him give himself to learning, but it is not learning that 
 breedeth any such point in his nature. 
 
 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 un- 
 worthily 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 ^schines, that was a man 
 given to pleasure, and told him, his orations did smell of the 
 lamp: " Indeed," said Demosthenes, "there is a great differ- 
 ence between the things that you and I do by lamp-light." 
 So as no man need doubt that learning will expulse busi- 
 ness ; 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. 
 
 Again, for that other conceit, that learning should under- 
 mine the reverence of laws and government, it is assuredly 
 a mere deprivation and calumny, without all shadow of truth. 
 For to say, that a blind custom of obedience should be a surer 
 obligation than duty taught and understood ; it is to affirm 
 that a blind man may tread surer by a guide than a seeing 
 man can by a light. And it is without all controversy, thai 
 learning doth make the minds of men gentle, generous, man- 
 table and pliant to government ; whereas ignorance makes 
 them churlish, thwarting, and mutinous ; and the evidence oi 
 
EXTRACTS. 273 
 
 time doth clear this assertion, considering that the most bar- 
 barous, rude, and unlearned times have been most subject to 
 tumults, seditions and changes. . . . 
 
 And for meanness of employment, that which is most tra- 
 duced to contempt is that the government of youth is com- 
 monly allotted to them ; which age, because it is the age of 
 least authority, it is transferred to the disesteeming of those 
 employments wherein youth is conversant, and which are 
 conversant about youth. But how unjust this traducement 
 is (if you will reduce things from popularity of opinion to 
 measure of reason) may appear in that, we see men are more 
 curious what they put into a new vessel, than into a vessel 
 seasoned ; and what mould they lay about a young plant, 
 than about a plant corroborate ; so as the weakest terms and 
 times of all things used to have the best applications and 
 helps. And let it be noted, that howsoever the condition of 
 the life of pedants hath been scorned upon theatres, as the 
 ape of tyranny ; and that the modern looseness or negligence 
 hath taken no due regard to the choice of schoolmasters 
 and tutors; yet the ancient wisdom of the best times did 
 always make a just complaint, that states were too busy with 
 their laws, and too negligent in point of education. — Ad- 
 vancement of Learning. 
 
 CHURCH CONTROVERSIES. 
 
 The controversies • themselves I will not enter into, as judg- 
 ing that the disease requireth rather rest than any other cure. 
 Thus much we all know and confess, that they be not of the 
 highest nature, for they are not touching the high mysteries 
 of faith, such as detained the churches for many years after 
 
 * The controversies which inspired this tract were those raging 
 between high-church and Puritan writers. The freedom of the 
 press had been abolished ; printing was restricted to London and 
 the two ■tmiversities. Every publication had to receive the 
 
274 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 the first peace, what time the heretics moved curious ques- 
 tions, and made strange anatomies of the natures and per- 
 son of Christ; and the Catholic fathers were compelled to 
 follow them with all subtilety of decisions and determina- 
 tions to exclude them from their evasions, and to take them 
 in their labyrinths ; so as it is rightly said, '■'■illes temporzbus, 
 ingeniosa resfuit, esse Christianumj " in those days it was 
 an ingenious and subtile thing to be a Christian. 
 
 Neither are they concerning the great parts of the worship 
 of God, of which it is true, that, "non servatur unitas in ere- 
 dendo, nisi eadem absit in colendo;" there will be kept no 
 unity in believing, except it be entertained in worship- 
 ing; such as were the controversies of the east and west 
 churches touching images, and such as are many of those 
 between the Church of Rome and us : as about the adora- 
 tion of the Sacrament, and the like; but we contend about 
 ceremonies and things indifferent, about the external 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 
 penned by our Saviour, " he that is not against us is with 
 us;" if we could but comprehend that saying, "differentia 
 rituum commendant unitatem doctrines j " the diversities of 
 ceremonies do set forth the unity of doctrines; and '■'■habit 
 religio qum sunt cetemitatis, habit qucB sunt teinporis j" 
 
 approval of the Archbishop of Canterbury or that of the Bishop 
 of London. 
 
 A series of pamphlets signed " Martin Marprelate," which were 
 secretly published and aimed at the English Church and its 
 clergy, added fuel to the flame. Penry, a young Welshman, and 
 Udall, a dissenting minister, were arrested as the supposed 
 authors ; the former was executed and the latter died in prison. 
 A bitter pamphlet war ensued, and Bacon's object was to pour oil 
 on the troubled waters and teach the lessons of conservatism and 
 charity. 
 
EXTRACTS. 275 
 
 religion liath 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 con- 
 troversies of themselves would close up and grow together: * 
 but most especially, if we would leave the over-weaning and 
 turbulent humours of these times, and revive the blessed 
 proceeding of the Apostles and Fathers of the primitive 
 church, which was, in the like and greater cases, not to enter 
 into assertions and positions, but to deliver counsels and 
 advice, we should need no other remedy at all: "si eadem 
 consults, f rater , quce affirmas, consulenti debetur reverentia, 
 cum non debeatur fides affirmanti j " brother, if that which 
 you set down as an assertion, you would deliver by way of 
 advice, there were reverence due to your counsel, whereas 
 faith is not due to your affirmation. St. Paul was content 
 to speak thus, "££0 non Dominus^' I, and not the Lord : 
 "Et secundum consilium meumj " according to my counsel. 
 But now men do too lightly say, " Non ego, sedDominus" not 
 I, but the Lord : yea, and bind it with an heavy denunciation 
 of his judgments, to terrify the simple, which have not suffi- 
 ciently understood out of Solomon, that "the causeless curse 
 shall not come." . . . It is hard in all causes, but espe- 
 cially in religion, when voices shall be numbered and not 
 weighed.f " Equidem," saith a wise father, "ut vere quod 
 res est scribam, prorsus decrcvi fugere omnem conventum 
 
 •"The itch of disputing will prove the scab of the church." 
 — Sir Henry Wotton. He directed in his will that this sentence 
 should be engraven on his tombstone : — 
 
 " Hicjacet hujus scntentia primus author : 
 
 DISPUTANDI PRURITUS ECCLESIARUM SCABIES 
 
 Nomlu alias quare." 
 
 t Old John Selden had no faith in the establishment of a creed 
 by the majority in theological councils. He said that it was as if 
 they were to claim that the odd vote was the Holy Ghost. 
 
 Sir John Harrington has preserved an interview between Dr. 
 John Still, Bishop of Bath and Wells, and one whom Sydney 
 
276 FRANCIS BACON ; 
 
 episcoporum; nullius enim concilia bonum exitum unquam 
 vidij concilia enim non minuunt mala, sed augent potius :'''' 
 To say the truth, I am utterly determined never to come to 
 any council of bishops : for I never yet saw good end of any 
 council; for councils abate not ill things, but rather increase 
 them. Which is to be understood not so much of general 
 councils, as of synods, gathered for the ordinary government 
 of the church. . . . The fourth point -wholly pertaineth 
 to them which impugn the present ecclesiastical govern- 
 ment. They have impropriated unto themselves the names 
 of zealous, sincere, and reformed ; as if all others were cold 
 minglers of holy things and profane, and friends of abuses. 
 Yea, be a man endued with great virtues, and fruitful in 
 good works ; yet if he concur not with them, they term him, 
 in derogation, a civil and moral man,* and compare him to 
 Socrates, or some heathen philosopher; whereas the wisdom 
 of the Scriptures teacheth us otherwise; namely, to judge 
 
 Smith would call a consecrated cobbler. The bishop conferred 
 with him, in hope to convert him ; and first my lord alleged for 
 the authority of the church, St. Augustin. The shoemaker 
 answered, "Augustin was but a man." He (Still) produced, for 
 antiquitie of bishops, the fathers of the council of Nice. He 
 answered, " They were also but men, and might erre." " Why, 
 then," said the bishop, " thou art but a man and maist and doest 
 erre." " No, sir," saith he, " the spirit beareth witness to my 
 spirit; I am the chyld of God." "Alas," saith the bishop, "thy 
 blynde spirit will lead thee to the gallows." " If I die," saith he, 
 "in the Lord's cause, I shall be a martyr." " This man," saith he, 
 " is not a sheepe strayed from the fold, for such may be brought 
 in againe on the sheapheard's shoulders ; but this is like a wild 
 bucke broken out of a parke, whose pale is thrown down, and 
 flies the farder off, the more he is hunted." — NugtB Antiquts. 
 
 * Butler satirizes this class of bigots who substituted imaginary 
 or hypocritical inward workings o[ the spirit for the letting one's 
 "light shine before men," — for practical Christianity. They 
 laid so much stress on this "inward grace," that they would 
 not credit with being a religious man the benevolent labourer 
 
EXTRACTS. 277 
 
 and denominate men religious according to their works of 
 the second table ; because they of the first are often coun- 
 terfeit, and practiced in hypocrisy. ... St. James saith, 
 "This is true religion to visit the fatherless and the widows." 
 God grant that we may contend with other churches, as the 
 vine with the olive, which of us shall bear the first fruit; 
 and not as the briar with the thistle, which of us is most 
 unprofitable. * 
 
 in the' vineyard, who could not or would not cry aloud, " The 
 spirit beareth witness to my spirit : " — 
 
 'Cause grace and virtue are within 
 Prohibited degrees of kin, 
 And therefore no true saint allows 
 They should be suffered to espouse. 
 
 ^ Hudibras. Part III., Canto /., /. Izgj. 
 
 * The true spirit of religion is exhibited by Dr. Tillotson in his 
 letter to the Earl of Mulgrave, Oct. 23, 1679: " I am, and always 
 was, more concerned that your lordship should continue a virtu- 
 ous and good man, than become a Protestant; being assured that 
 the ignorance and errors of men's understandings will find a much 
 easier forgiveness with God than the faults of their wills. . . . 
 I am sure you cannot more effectually condemn your own act, 
 than by being a worse man after your profession of having 
 embraced a better religion."