Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

LORD BACON.*.

PART I.

HIS LIFE, AND CHARACTER.

Birth--education--father's death-his uncle, Lord Burleigh, and cousin, Robert Cecil--their jealousy-his law-studies-dis appointments-figure in Parliament--his patriotism rebuked-abject submission--friendship and generosity of Essex--Bacon's Essays-fall of Essex, and Bacon's ingratitude--death of Queen Elizabeth-accession of James I--his character--Bacon's knighthood and marriage--Bacon and Waller compared-successive promotions--his treatise on the "Advancement of Learning" other works-his oppression of Peacham-Coke's manly resist.

Trinity College, Cambridge. It has often been said that Bacon, while still at college, planned that great intellectual revolution with which his name is inseparably connected. The evidence on this subject, however, is hardly sufficient to prove what is in itself so improbable, as that any definite scheme of that kind should have been so early formed, even by so powerful and active a mind. But it is certain, that after a residence of three years at Cambridge, Bacon departed, carrying with him a profound contempt for the course of study pursued there; a fixed conviction that the system of academic education in England was radically vicious; a just scorn for the trifles on which the followers of Aristotle

ance---Bacon's patron, Villiers, Duke of Buckingham---Bacon had wasted their powers, and no great reverence for made Councillor,---Lord Keeper, ---and Lord Chancellor---his Aristotle himself. corruptions as judge---impeachment---conviction and disgrace... sentence---pardon---literary pursuits---death.

prema.

FRANCIS BACON, the youngest son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, was born at York House, his father's residence in the Strand, on the 22d of January, 1561. His health was very delicate, and to this circumstance may be partly attributed that gravity of carriage, and that love of sedantary pursuits, which distinguished him from other boys. Every body knows how much his ture readiness of wit, and sobriety of deportment, amused the Queen; and how she used to call him her young Lord Keeper. We are told that while still a mere child, he stole away from his playfellows to a vault in St. James's fields, for the purpose of investigating the cause of a singular echo which he had observed there. It is certain that, at only twelve, he busied himself with very ingenious speculations on the art of legerdemain, a subject which, as Professor Dugald Stewart has most justly observed, merits much more attention from philosophers than it has ever received. These are trifles. But the eminence which Bacon afterwards attained renders them interesting. In the thirteenth year of his age, he was entered at

The Edinburg Review for July contains an article of great length, but far greater ability, upon Basil Montagu's voluminous edition of Bacon's works, and history of his life. The article so teems with interesting facts, and contains what we take to be so just a view of Bacon's character, and so clear as well as just an exposition of his philosophy, that we cannot forbear enabling all our readers to share the pleasure and benefit derivable from the perusal. To this end, we cull those paragraphs and pages which are necessary to present an unbroken thread of narrative or of disquisition, and print them continuously; omitting little, besides the reviewer's discussions with Mr. Montagu, of some points on which that gentleman, with the amiable though too common weakness of biographers, is a mere apologist for his hero. The portions thus culled, we arrange in three divisions, with a table of contents to each; the first containing the Reviewer's sketch of Lord Bacon's life and character, and the other two a view of his philosophy--and a triumphant contrast of its useful aims, with the sounding emptiness of that taught by the ancient philosophers. We give translations of the passages in foreign tongues; hoping that unlearned as well as learned readers, will be attracted by this masterly performance. And we have tried so to mould the several parts together, and give it so much the appearance of a consistent whole, that no one might suppose it to be other than an original and independent Life of Bacon, and account of his works, but for this declaration to the

contrary.

No reader will finish this article, exhibiting the amazing in tellect and weak (not bad) heart of the wonderful man it com memorates, without regarding as literally true, that line which

calls him

"The greatest, wisest, meanest,---of mankind."

We

In his sixteenth year, he visited Paris, and resided there for some time, under the care of Sir Amias Paulet, Elizabeth's minister at the French court, and one of the ablest and most upright of the many valuable servants whom she employed. France was at that time in a deplorable state of agitation. The Huguenots and the Catholics were mustering all their forces for the fiercest and most protracted of their many struggles: while the Prince, whose duty it was to protect and to restrain both, had by his vices and follies degraded himself so deeply that he had no authority over either. Bacon, however, made a tour through several provinces, and appears to have passed some time at Poitiers. have abundant proof that during his stay on the Continent he did not neglect literary and scientific pursuits. But his attention seems to have been chiefly directed to statistics and diplomacy. It was at this time that he wrote those Notes on the State of Europe which are printed in his works. He studied the principles of the art of deciphering with great interest; and invented one cipher so ingenious that, many years later, he thought it deserving of a place in the De Augmentis. In February, 1580, while engaged in these pursuits, he received intelligence of the almost sudden death of his father, and instantly returned to England.

He was most desirous to obtain a provision which His prospects were greatly overcast by this event. might enable him to devote himself to literature and politics. He applied to the Government, and it seems strange that he should have applied in vain. His wishes were moderate. His hereditary claims on the administration were great. He had himself been favorably noticed by the Queen. His uncle was Prime Minister. His own talents were such as any minister might have been eager to enlist in the public service. But his solicitations were unsuccessful. The truth is, that the Cecils disliked him, and did all that they could decently do to keep him down. It has never been alleged that Bacon had done anything to merit this dislike; nor is it at all probable that a man whose temper was naturally mild, whose manners were courteous, who, through life, nursed his fortunes with the utmost care, and who was fearful even to a fault of offending the powerful-would have given any just cause of displeasure to a kinsman who had the means of rendering him essential service, and of doing him irreparable injury. The real explanation, we have no doubt, is this: Robert Cecil, the Treasurer's second son, was younger by a few months than Bacon. He had been educated with the utmost care; had been initiated, while still a VOL. IV.-2

thanked the Treasurer for the admonition, and promised to profit by it. Strangers meanwhile were less unjust to the young barrister than his nearest kinsmen had been. In his twenty-sixth year he became a bench

boy, in the mysteries of diplomacy and court-intrigue ; | sharp lecture on his vanity, and want of respect for his and was just at this time about to be produced on the betters. Francis returned a most submissive reply, stage of public life. The wish nearest to Burleigh's heart was that his own greatness might descend to this favorite child. But even Burleigh's fatherly partiality could hardly prevent him from perceiving that Robert, with all his abilities and acquirements, was no matcher of his Inn; and two years later he was appointed for his cousin Francis. That Bacon himself attributed the conduct of his relatives to jealousy of his superior talents, we have not the smallest doubt. In a letter, written many years after to Villiers, he expresses himself thus:-"Countenance, encourage, and advance able men in all kinds, degrees, and professions. For in the time of the Cecils, the father and the son, able men were by design and of purpose suppressed."

Lent reader. At length, in 1590, he obtained for the first time some show of favor from the Court. He was sworn in Queen's Counsel extraordinary. But this mark of honor was not accompanied by any pecuniary emolument. He continued, therefore, to solicit his powerful relatives for some provision which might enable him to live without drudging at his profession. He bore with a patience and serenity which, we fear, bordered on meanness, the morose humors of his uncle, and the sneering reflections which his cousin cast on

Whatever Burleigh's motives might be, his purpose was unalterable. The supplications which Francis addressed to his uncle and aunt were earnest, humble, | speculative men, lost in philosophical dreams, and too and almost servile. He was the most promising and accomplished young man of his time. His father had been the brother-in-law, the most useful colleague, the nearest friend of the minister. But all this availed poor Francis nothing. He was forced, much against his will, to betake himself to the study of the law. He was admitted at Gray's Inn, and, during some years, he labored there in obscurity.

What the extent of his legal attainments may have been, it is difficult to say. It was not hard for a man of his powers to acquire that very moderate portion of technical knowledge which, when joined to quickness, tact, wit, ingenuity, eloquence, and knowledge of the world, is sufficient to raise an advocate to the highest professional eminence. The general opinion appears to have been that which was on one occasion expressed by Elizabeth. "Bacon," said she, "hath a great wit and much learning; but in law sheweth to the uttermost of his knowledge, and is not deep." The Cecils, we suspect, did their best to spread this opinion by whispers and insinuations. Coke openly proclaimed it with that rancorous insolence which was habitual to him. No reports are more readily believed than those which disparage genius and soothe the envy of conscious mediocrity. It must have been inexpressibly consoling to a stupid sergeant,—the forerunner of him who, a hundred and fifty years later, "shook his head at Murray as a wit,"-to know that the most profound thinker, and the most accomplished orator of the age, was very imperfectly acquainted with the law touching bastard eigné and mulier puisné, and confounded the right of free fishery with that of common piscary.

wise to be capable of transacting public business. At length the Cecils were generous enough to procure for him the reversion of the Registrarship of the Star Chamber. This was a lucrative place, but as many years elapsed before it fell in, he was still under the necessity of laboring for his daily bread.

In the Parliament which was called in 1593 he sat as member for the county of Middlesex, and soon attained eminence as a debater. It is easy to perceive from the scanty remains of his oratory, that the same compactness of expression and richness of fancy which appear in his writings characterized his speeches; and that his extensive acquaintance with literature and history enabled him to entertain his audience with a vast variety of illustrations and allusions which were generally happy and apposite, but which were probably not least pleasing to the taste of that age when they were such as would now be thought childish or pedantic. It is evident also that he was, as indeed might have been expected, perfectly free from those faults which are generally found in an advocate who, after having risen to eminence at the bar, enters the House of Commons; that it was his habit to deal with every great question, not in small detached portions, but as a whole; that he refined little, and that his reasonings were those of a capacious rather than a subtle mind. Ben Jonson, a most unexceptionable judge, has described his eloquence in words, which, though often quoted, will bear to be quoted again. "There happened in my time one noble speaker who was full of gravity in his speaking. His language, where he could spare or pass by a jest, was nobly censorious. No man ever spoke more neatly, It is certain that no man in that age, or indeed during more pressly, more weightily, or suffered less emptithe century and a half which followed, was better ac-ness, less idleness, in what he uttered. No member of quainted with the philosophy of law. His technical knowledge was quite sufficient, with the help of his admirable talents, and his insinuating address, to procure clients. He rose very rapidly into business, and soon entertained hopes of being called within the bar. He applied to Lord Burleigh for that purpose, but received a testy refusal. Of the grounds of that refusal we can in some measure judge by Bacon's answer, which is still extant. It seems that the old Lord, whose temper, age and gout had by no means altered for the better, and who omitted no opportunity of marking his dislike of the showy, quick-witted young men of the rising generation, took this opportunity to read Francis a very

his speeeh but consisted of his own graces. His hearers could not cough or look aside from him without loss. He commanded where he spoke, and had his judges angry and pleased at his devotion. No man had their affections more in his power. The fear of every man that heard him was lest he should make an end." From the mention which is made of judges, it would seem that Jonson had heard Bacon only at the bar. Indeed we imagine that the House of Commons was then almost inaccessible to strangers. It is not probable that a man of Bacon's nice observation would speak in Parliament exactly as he spoke in the Court of King's Bench. But the graces of manner and lan

guage must to a great extent, have been common between the Queen's Counsel and the Knight of the Shire.

whole country into confusion for objects purely personal. Still, it is impossible not to be deeply interested for a man so brave, high spirited, and generous;-for a Bacon tried to play a very difficult game in politics. man who, while he conducted himself towards his He wished to be at once a favorite at Court and popu- sovereign with a boldness such as was then found in no lar with the multitude. If any man could have suc-other subject, conducted himself towards his dependants ceeded in this attempt, a man of talents so rare, of judg-with a delicacy such as has rarely been found in any

other patron. Unlike the vulgar herd of benefactors, he
desired to inspire, not gratitude, but affection. He
tried to make those whom he befriended feel towards
him as towards an equal. His mind, ardent, suscep-
tible, naturally disposed to admiration of all that is
great and beautiful, was fascinated by the genius and
the accomplishments of Bacon. A close friendship was
soon formed between them,--
-a friendship destined to
have a dark, a mournful, a shameful end.

In 1594 the office of Attorney-General became vacant, and Bacon hoped to obtain it. Essex made his friend's cause his own,-sued, expostulated, promised, threatened,-but all in vain. It is probable that the dislike felt by the Cecils for Bacon had been increased by the connexion which he had lately formed with the Earl. Robert was then on the point of being made Secretary of State. He happened one day to be in the same coach with Essex, and a remarkable conversation took place between them. "My Lord," said Sir Robert, "the Queen has determined to appoint an Attorney-General without more delay. I pray your Lordship to let me

ment so prematurely ripe, of temper so calm, and of manners so plausible, might have been expected to succeed. Nor indeed did he wholly fail. Once, however, he indulged in a burst of patriotism which cost him a long and bitter remorse, and which he never ventured to repeat. The Court asked for large subsidies, and for speedy payment. The remains of Bacon's speech breathe all the spirit of the Long Parliament. "The gentlemen," said he, "must sell their plate, and the farmers their brass pots, ere this will be paid; and for us, we are here to search the wounds of the realm, and not to skin them over. The dangers are these. First, we shall breed discontent and endanger her Majesty's safety, which must consist more in the love of the people than their wealth. Secondly, this being granted in this sort, other princes hereafter will look for the like; so that we shall put an evil precedent on ourselves and on our posterity; and in histories, it is to be observed, of all nations the English are not to be subject, base, or taxable." The Queen and her ministers resented this outbreak of public spirit in the highest manner. Indeed, many an honest member of the House of Com-know whom you will favor." "I wonder at your mons had, for a much smaller matter, been sent to the Tower by the proud and hot-blooded Tudors. The young patriot condescended to make the most abject apologies. He adjured the Lord Treasurer to show some favor to his poor servant and ally. He bemoaned himself to the Lord Keeper, in a letter which may keep in countenance the most unmanly of the epistles which Cicero wrote during his banishment. The lesson was not thrown away. Bacon never offended in the same manner again.

question," replied the Earl. "You cannot but know that resolutely, against all the world, I stand for your cousin, Francis Bacon," "Good Lord!" cried Cecil, unable to bridle his temper, "I wonder your Lordship should spend your strength on so unlikely a matter. Can you name one precedent of so raw a youth promoted to so great a place?" This objection came with a singularly bad grace from a man who, though younger than Bacon, was in daily expectation of being made Secretary of State. The blot was too obvious to be missed by Essex, He was now satisfied that he had little to hope from who seldom forebore to speak his mind. "I have made no the patronage of those powerful kinsmen whom he had search," said he, "for precedents of young men who solicited during twelve years with such meek perti- have filled the office of Attorney-General; but I could nacity; and he began to look towards a different quar-name to you, Sir Robert, a man younger than Francis, ter. Among the courtiers of Elizabeth, had lately less learned, and equally inexperiened, who is suing appeared a new favorite,-young, noble, wealthy, accomplished, eloquent, brave, generous, aspiring,-a favorite who had obtained from the grey-headed queen such marks of regard as she had scarce vouchsafed to Leicester in the season of the passions; who was at once the ornament of the palace and the idol of the city; who was the common patron of men of letters and of men of the sword; who was the common refuge of the persecuted Catholic and of the persecuted Puritan. The calm prudence which had enabled Burleigh to shape his course through so many dangers, and the vast experience which he had acquired in dealing with two generations of colleagues and rivals, seemed scarcely sufficient to support him in this new competition; and Robert Cecil sickened with fear and envy as he contemplated the rising fame and influence of ESSEX.

and striving with all his might for an office of far greater weight." Sir Robert had nothing to say but that he thought his own abilities equal to the place which he hoped to obtain; and that his father's long services deserved such a mark of gratitude from the Queen,—as if his abilities were comparable to his cousin's, or as if Sir Nicholas Bacon had done no service to the State. Cecil then hinted that if Bacon would be satisfied with the Solicitorship, that might be of easier digestion to the Queen. "Digest me no digestions," said the generous and ardent Earl. "The Attorneyship for Francis is that I must have; and in that I will spend all my power, might, authority, and amity; and with tooth and nail procure the same for him against whomsoever; and whosoever getteth this office out of my hands for any other, before he have it, it shall cost Nothing in the political conduct of Essex entitles him him the coming by. And this be you assured of, Sir to esteem; and the pity with which we regard his Robert, for now I fully declare myself; and for my early and terrible end, is diminished by the considera-own part, Sir Robert, I think strange both of my Lord tion, that he put to hazard the lives and fortunes of his most attached friends, and endeavored to throw the

Treasurer and you, that can have the mind to seek the preference of a stranger before so near a kinsman; for

if you weigh in a balance the parts every way of his competitor and him, only excepting five poor years of admitting to a house of court before Francis, you shall find in all other respects whatsoever no comparison between them."

[ocr errors]

indeed was kind to him in more ways than one. She rejected him, and she accepted his enemy. She married that narrow-minded, bad-hearted pedant, Sir Edward Coke, and did her best to make him as miserable as he deserved to be.

The fortunes of Essex had now reached their height, and began to decline. The person on whom, during the decline of his influence, he chiefly depended,—to whom he confided his perplexities, whose advice he solicited, whose intercession he employed,--was his friend Bacon.

When the office of Attorney-General was filled up, the Earl pressed the Queen to make Bacon SolicitorGeneral, and, on this occasion, the old Lord Treasurer professed himself not unfavorable to his nephew's pretensions. But after a contest which lasted more than a year and a half, and in which Essex, to use his own | The lamentable truth must be told. This friend, so words, spent all his power, might, authority, and loved, so trusted, bore a principal part in ruining the amity," the place was given to another. Essex felt this Earl's fortunes, in shedding his blood, and in blackening disappointment keenly, but found consolation in the his memory. most munificent and delicate liberality. He presented Bacon with an estate, worth near two thousand pounds, situated at Twickenham; and this, as Bacon owned many years after, “with so kind and noble circumstances, as the manner was worth more than the matter." It was soon after these events that Bacon first appeared before the public as a writer. Early in 1597 he published a small volume of Essays, which was afterwards enlarged, by successive editions, to many times its original bulk. This little work was, as it well deserved to be, exceedingly popular. It was reprinted in a few months; it was translated into Latin, French and Italian, and it seems to have at once established the literary reputation of its author. But though Bacon's reputation rose, his fortunes were still depressed. He was in great pecuniary difficulties; and on one occasion was arrested in the street at the suit of a goldsmith, for a debt of 3004., and was carried to a spunging-house in Coleman street.

But let us be just to Bacon. We believe that, to the last, he had no wish to injure Essex. Nay, we believe that he sincerely exerted himself to serve Essex, as long as he thought he could serve Essex without injuring himself. The advice which he gave to his noble benefactor was generally most judicious. He did all in his power to dissuade the Earl from accepting the Government of Ireland. "For," says he, "I did as plainly see his overthrow, chained as it were by destiny to that journey, as it is possible for a man to ground a judgment upon future contingents." The prediction was accomplished. Essex returned in disgrace. Bacon attempted to mediate between his friend and the Queen; and, we believe, honestly employed all his address for that purpose. But the task which he had undertaken was too difficult, delicate, and perilous, even for so wary and dexterous an agent. He had to manage two spirits equally proud, resentful, and ungovernable. At Essex House, he had to calm the rage of a young hero, in

The kindness of Essex was in the meantime inde-censed by multiplied wrongs and humiliations; and fatigable. In 1596 he sailed on his memorable expedi- then to pass to Whitehall for the purpose of soothing tion to the coast of Spain. At the very moment of his the peevishness of a sovereign, whose temper, never embarkation, he wrote to several of his friends, com- very gentle, had been rendered morbidly irritable by mending to them, during his own absence, the interests age, by declining health, and by the long habit of lisof Bacon. He returned, after performing the most bril-tening to flattery and exacting implicit obedience. It liant military exploit that was achieved on the Conti- is hard to serve two masters. Situated as Bacon was, nent by English arms, during the long interval which it was scarcely possible for him to shape his course, so elapsed between the battle of Agincourt and that of as not to give one or both of his employers reason to Blenheim. His valor, his talents, his humane and gene- complain. For a time he acted as fairly as, in circumrous disposition, had made him the idol of his country-stances so embarrassing, could reasonably be expected. men, and had extorted praise from the enemies whom | At length, he found that while he was trying to prop he had conquered. He had always been proud and the fortunes of another, he was in danger of shaking headstrong; and his splendid success seems to have rendered his faults more offensive than ever. But to his friend Francis he was still the same. Bacon had some thoughts of making his fortune by marriage; and had begun to pay court to a widow of the name of Hatton. The eccentric manners and violent temper of this woman, made her a disgrace and a torment to her connections. But Bacon was not aware of her faults, or was disposed to overlook them for the sake of her ample fortune. Essex pleaded his friend's cause with his usual ardor. The letters which the Earl addressed to Lady Hatton and to her mother are still extant, and are highly honorable to him. "If," he wrote, "she were my sister or my daughter, I protest I would as confidently resolve to further it as I now persuade you." And again-"If my faith be anything, I protest, if I had one as near me as she is to you, I had rather match her with him, than with men of far greater titles." The suit, happily for Bacon, was unsuccessful. The lady

his own. He had disobliged both the parties whom he wished to reconcile. Essex thought him wanting in zeal as a friend-Elizabeth thought him wanting in duty as a subject. The Earl looked on him as a spy of the Queen, the Queen as a creature of the Earl. The reconciliation which he had labored to effect appeared utterly hopeless. A thousand signs, legible to eyes far less keen than his, announced that the fall of his patron was at hand. He shaped his course accordingly. When Essex was brought before the council to answer for his conduct in Ireland, Bacon, after a faint attempt to excuse himself from taking part against his friend, submitted himself to the Queen's pleasure, and appeared at the bar in support of the charges. But a darker scene was behind. The unhappy young nobleman, made reckless by despair, ventured on a rash and criminal enterprise, which rendered him liable to the highest penalties of the law. What course was Bacon to take? This was one of those conjunctures which show what

mations. She thought it expedient to publish a vindication of her late proceedings. The faithless friend who had assisted in taking the Earl's life was now employed to murder the Earl's fame. The Queen had seen some of Bacon's writings, and had been pleased with them. He was accordingly selected to write “A Declaration of the practices and treasons attempted and committed by Robert, Earl of Essex," which was printed by authority. In the succeeding reign, Bacon had not a word to say in defence of this performance

generous enemy would have employed respecting a man who had so dearly expiated his offences. His only excuse was, that he wrote it by command,—that he considered himself as a mere secretary,—that he had particular instructions as to the way in which he was to treat every part of the subject,--and that, in fact, he had furnished only the arrangement and the style.

men are. To a highminded man, wealth, power, courtfavor, even personal safety, would have appeared of no account, when opposed to friendship, gratitude, and honor. Such a man would have stood by the side of Essex at the trial,—would have “spent all his power, might, authority, and amity,” in soliciting a mitigation of the sentence,—would have been a daily visiter at the cell,-would have received the last injunctions and the last embrace on the scaffold,--would have employed all the powers of his intellect to guard from insult the fame of his generous, though erring friend. An ordi-a performance, abounding in expressions which no nary man would neither have incurred the danger of succoring Essex, nor the disgrace of assailing him. Bacon did not even preserve neutrality. He appeared as counsel for the prosecution. In that situation, he did not confine himself to what would have been amply sufficient to procure a verdict. He employed all his wit, his rhetoric, and his learning,-not to ensure a conviction, for the circumstances were such that a conviction was inevitable,—but to deprive the unhappy The real explanation of all this is perfectly obvious; prisoner of all those excuses which, though legally of and nothing but a partiality amounting to a ruling pasno value, yet tended to diminish the moral guilt of the sion, could cause any body to miss it. The moral qualicrime; and which, therefore, though they could not ties of Bacon were not of a high order. We do not justify the peers in pronouncing an acquittal, might say that he was a bad man. He was not inhuman or incline the Queen to grant a pardon. The Earl urged tyrannical. He bore with meekness his high civil hoas a palliation of his frantic acts, that he was sur-nors, and the far higher honors gained by his intellect. rounded by powerful and inveterate enemies, that they He was very seldom, if ever, provoked into treating had ruined his fortunes, that they sought his life, and any person with malignity and insolence. No man that their persecutions had driven him to despair. This more readily held up the left cheek to those who had was true, and Bacon well knew it to be true. But he smitten the right. No man was more expert at the affected to treat it as an idle pretence. He compared soft answer which turneth away wrath. He was never Essex to Pisistratus, who, by pretending to be in im- accused of intemperance in his pleasures. His even minent danger of assassination, and by exhibiting self-temper, his flowing courtesy, the general respectability inflicted wounds, succeeded in establishing tyranny at Athens. This was too much for the prisoner to bear. He interrupted his ungrateful friend, by calling on him to quit the part of an advocate,—to come forward as a witness, and tell the Lords whether, in old times, he, Francis Bacon, had not under his own hand, repeatedly asserted the truth of what he now represented as idle pretexts. It is painful to go on with this lamentable story. Bacon returned a shuffling answer to the Earl's question: and, as if the allusion to Pisistratus were not sufficiently offensive, made another allusion still more un-attractions for him as for any of the courtiers who justifiable. He compared Essex to Henry Duke of Guise, dropped on their knees in the dirt when Elizabeth and the rash attempt in the city, to the day of the barri- passed by, and then hastened home to write to the cades at Paris. Why Bacon had recourse to such a topic, King of Scots that her Grace seemed to be breaking it is difficult to say. It was quite unnecessary for the fast. For these objects he had stooped to everything purpose of obtaining a verdict. It was certain to pro-and endured everything. For these he had sued in the duce a strong impression on the mind of the haughty humblest manner, and when unjustly and ungraciously and jealous princess on whose pleasure the Earl's fate repulsed, had thanked those who had repulsed him, depended. The faintest allusion to the degrading tute-and had begun to sue again. For these objects, as soon lage in which the last Valois had been held by the as he found that the smallest show of independence in house of Lorraine, was sufficient to harden her heart Parliament was offensive to the Queen, he had abased against a man who in rank, in military reputation, in himself to the dust before her, and implored forgivepopularity among the citizens of the capital, bore someness, in terms better suited to a convicted thief than to resemblance to the Captain of the League. Essex was convicted. Bacon made no effort to save him, though the Queen's feelings were such, that he might have pleaded his benefactor's cause, possibly with success, certainly without any serious danger to himself. The unhappy nobleman was executed. His fate excited strong, perhaps unreasonable feelings of compassion and indignation. The Queen was received by the citizens of London with gloomy looks and faint accla

of his demeanor, made a favorable impression on those who saw him in situations which do not severely try the principles. His faults were-we write it with paincoldness of heart and meanness of spirit. He seems to have been incapable of feeling strong affection, of facing great dangers, of making great sacrifices. His desires were set on things below, Wealth, precedence, titles, patronage,-the mace, the seals, the coronet,-large houses, fair gardens, rich manors, massy services of plate, gay hangings, curious cabinets,—had as great

a knight of the shire. For these he joined, and for these he forsook Lord Essex. He continued to plead his patron's cause with the Queen, as long as he thought that by pleading that cause he might serve himself. Nay, he went further--for his feelings, though not warm, were kind—he pleaded that cause as long as he thought he could plead it without injury to himself. But when it became evident that Essex was going headlong to his rain, Bacon began to tremble for his own

« AnteriorContinuar »