plied for the situation, in terms which should have insured his success. "It were a pretty cell for my fortune. The College and school, I do not doubt but I shall make to flourish."* Every one must wish that he had succeeded; not only from a kindly feeling towards him, but for the benefit of this great seminary, and the cause of good education in England. The Lord Keeper spitefully interposed with his wise saws: "It is somewhat necessary to be a good scholar; but more that he be a good husband, and a careful manager, and a stayed man; which no man can be that is so much indebted as the Lord St. Alban." A prior promise to Sir William Beecher was the first excuse; but the place was finally jobbed to Sir Henry Wotton, on his releasing a reversionary grant of the Mastership of the Rolls, to be conferred on a rapacious dependent of Buckingham, who could still do him service. Bacon received the news of this appointment while he was dictating to Rawley, his chaplain and secretary; and when the messenger was gone, he said calmly, " Well, Sir, yon business won't go on; let us go on with this, for this is in our power;”—and then he dictated to him afresh for some hours without the least hesitation of speech, or interruption of thought.

When fresh grievances and conflicts had made the people forget the Ex-chancellor's offences and his punishment, the part of his sentence, "that he should not come [A. D. 1623.] within the verge of the Court," was disregarded; and at his earnest entreaty, the King agreed to see him privately at Whitehall. We have an account of what passed at this interview by Bacon himself, which he drew up and sent to the King, that the impression might be more lasting. Amidst a great deal of flattery heaped upon his Majesty, he seems not to have overlooked his own merit and services; dwelling as he was often wont to do on the assertion, that "no measure he had ever brought forward had miscarried, and that though unfortunate for himself, he had always been successful for the Crown." He then strongly pressed that he might be again employed; promising, that in that case, "he would so live and spend his time, as neither discontinuance should disable him, nor adversity discourage him, nor any thing he did should bring any scandal or envy upon him." If he cannot have public employment, he begs that his opinion may be taken, or that propositions may be required of him privately, as he should be glad even to be a labourer or pioneer in the service. Lastly, he prayed that he might serve calamo, if not consilio; and that the King, an universal scholar, would appoint him some new task or literary province, to which he might devote himself for his Majesty's honour. Upon this occasion he seems to have aimed several blows at the more prosperous courtiers, who were still basking in the sunshine of royal favour: "There be mountebanks as well in

* Wilson's Hist. James I. Kennet, vol. ii. 736.

† Williams to Buckingham, 11 April, 1623.

the civil body as in the natural. I ever served his Majesty with modesty; no shouldering, no undertaking. Of my offences, far be it from me to say, dat veniam corvis vexat censura columbas ; but I will say that I have good warrant for, they were not the greatest offenders in Israel upon whom the tower of Siloam fell." He contended that his recall to office would rather be well received by the public: "For it is an almanack of the last year, and, as a friend of mine said, the Parliament died penitent towards me. To the objection, that a miracle only could restore him, he answers, "Your Majesty has power; I have faith; therefore a miracle may soon be wrought." His last observation, which affects to be merry, is full of melancholy. "I would live to study, and not study to live; yet I am prepared for date obolum Belisario; and I that have borne a bag*, can bear a wallet.” But Buckingham had found agents whom he considered more useful, and Bacon remained in disgrace.

During the romantic expedition of "Baby Charles," and "the Dog Steenie," to Madrid to hasten the match with the Infanta, he renewed his instances with the King, but even with less prospect of success, for the royal word had been passed that no change should be made till their return.

On this event, Bacon sent a letter of congratulation to Bucking ham, concluding with the prayer, "My Lord, do some good work upon me that I may end my days, in comfort, which nevertheless cannot be complete, except you put me in some way to do your noble self service.t

Still, while the nation was agitated by the discussion between [A. D. 1624.] the King and the Commons, by the sudden dissolution of parliament, by the unhappy fate of the Palatinate, by the intrigues about the Spanish match, by the struggle between Buckingham and Bristol, by the new alliance with France, and the impeachment, in a new parliament, of the Lord Treasurer Middlesex,-Bacon was condemned to look on as an idle spectator, or to shut himself up in Gray's Inn like a cloistered. friar.

What he felt most severely, was his exclusion from parliament. During his long career in the House of Commons, and during the short time he had sat in the House of Peers, he had enjoyed the consequence of being the best debater of his time, and he was confident that, if the disqualification imposed by his sentence were removed, he not only would have an agreeable and creditable occupation in again taking a part in parliamentary business, but that the weight and importance he should soon acquire would force him back into high office. This speculation was very reasonable. Never sat so formidable an Ex-chancellor. In the first encounter he must have utterly extinguished the Right Reverend the Lord Keeper Williams, the present occupant of the woolsack.

* The bag or purse containing the Great Seal.

† Works, v. 577.

He might for a season have had to encounter a little coldness and shyness; and there might have been a few awkward allusions to the cause of his long absence from the House; but from the amenity of his manners, his unrivalled eloquence, and his powers of sarcasm, he would soon have been courted, feared, and flattered. The past being forgotten by general consent, he would have swayed the deliberations of the assembly, and the government must have secured his support on his own terms.

Perhaps some such contemplations mixed themselves up with his affected humility, when he thus wrote to

the King: "I prostrate myself at your Majes- [JULY 30, 1624.] ty's feet, I, your ancient servant, now sixty-four years old in age, and three years five months old in misery. I desire not from your Majesty means, nor place, nor employment, but only, after so long a time of expiation, a complete and total remission of the sentence of the Upper House, to the end that blot of ignominy may be removed from me, and from my memory with posterity; that I die not a condemned man, but may be to your Majesty, as I am to God, nova creatura. Look down, dear Sovereign, upon me in pity. This my most humble request granted, may make me live a year or two happily; and denied, will kill me quickly.”*

This appeal was effectual, and the King directed a warrant to the Attorney General, whereby, after reciting the sentence upon the late Lord Chancellor, his former services, how well and profitably he had spent his time since his trouble, his Majesty's desire to remove from him that blot of ignominy which yet remained upon him of incapacity and disablement, required a pardon to be made out in due form of the whole sentence.

This was accordingly done, and Bacon was once more entitled to appear in his robes on the Viscount's Bench, and to enjoy all the rights of the Peerage. But parliament did not again assemble during the remainder of this reign; and although he was summoned to the parliament which met on the accession of Charles I., he was then so broken down by age and sickness, that he was unable to take his seat, and all his visions of power and greatness had for ever fled.

Surmounting the feebleness of frame which had prevented him from partaking in schoolboy sports, his constitution never was robust; from severe study the marks of age were early impressed upon him, and his mental sufferings had greatly assisted the attacks of disease by which he was periodically visited. He continued, however, to carry on a noble struggle against all his ills and infirmities. He published new editions of his werks, and, with assistance, translated those in English into Latin,-from the mistaken notion that this would forever continue the familiar dialect of all men of education, and that only fleeting fame could be acquired by composing in any modern tongue. His English Es

* Works, v. 583.

says and Treatises will be read and admired by the Anglo-Saxon race all over the world, to the most distant generations; while since the age which immediately succeeded his own, only a few recondite scholars have penetrated and relished the admirable good sense enveloped in his crabbed Latinity.

To show the versatility of his powers,-in imitation of Julius Cæsar, he wrote a "Collection of Apophthegms," or a "Jest Book." This is said "to have been dictated by him in one rainy day, and to be the best extant.” That it was begun in a rainy day is very probable, but it is evidently the result of much labour, and of repeated efforts of recollection. He himself, after praising these mucrones verborum, says, I have for my own recreation, amongst more serious studies, collected some few of them," language not at all applicable to one continuous dictation. As to its excellence,” the world is certainly much indebted to it, for it contains many most excellent mots of the author and his contemporaries, which otherwise would have perished, but they are mixed up with not a few platitudes, which do not give us a high notion of the relish for true wit among the lawyers and statesmen of Elizabeth and James,-and there are editions of "Millerthe Jociculturist," which I should considerably prefer to it.*

His

In performance of his promise to the King, he actually began the stupendous undertaking of framing a "Digest of the Laws of England;" but finding "it was a work of assistance, and that which he could not master by his own forces and pen, he soon laid it aside." He seems to have been conscious that he did not excel in historical composition; having been urged to write a History of Great Britain," and a "History of the reign of Henry VIII.," he never go beyond the first chapter of either. last publications in James's reign, were his "Dialogue touching an Holy War," an abstract speculation upon the ground of justifiable warfare among Christians,-and "Considerations touching a War with Spain, inscribed to Prince Charles,"--partly pamphlets for the Duke of Buckingham,-palliating the perfidy with which he had broken off negotiations with the Spanish government, and the folly with which he was involving the country in useless hostilities. This help was much wanted, for the adherents of Bristol and Pembroke were multiplying rapidly, and deep discontent was spreading among all ranks of society,

While Bacon looked for his reward, the scene suddenly shifted. [MARCH 27, 1625.] and flattered was no more, and a new reign The Sovereign whom he had so long despised

had commenced.

* In a very witty jeu d'esprit, entitled JUDICIAL ANTICIPATION, published in the year 1812, by two friends of mine then at the bar, who have since graced the bench, a counsel pleading before Lord Ellenborough is supposed to cite "1 Miller, 96," "L-d E **********. Is your case in Miller's Gardener, or in Miller's Jest Book? Do you intend the horti- or the joci- culturist ?”

Preface to Holy War.

Bacon no doubt was in hopes that Charles, who had shown such attachment to him, and whom he had so sedulously cultivated by letters, dedication, and messages, being on the throne, Buckingham, who had kept the prince in a state of great thraldom, would be dismissed, and he himself might be placed at the helm of affairs. Even if Buckingham retained his ascendancy, a hope remained to the Ex-chancellor from a growing coldness between him and Lord Keeper Williams. But what was Bacon's mortification to see the despotism of Buckingham still more absolute if possible under the son than it had ever been under the father, and the Great Seal restored to the keeping of the Welshman, whom he invariably despised, and whom he had such reason to dislike!

He felt the deepest disappointment*: a severe attack of illness followed, and he resolved to renounce politics-in which he bitterly regretted that he had ever engaged,-uttering this lamentation," The talent which God has given me I have misspent in things for which I was least fit." He published no more pamphlets; he wrote no more letters of solicitation to Buckingham; he did not seek to disturb by any memorial of himself the festivities of the young Sovereign on his marriage with his French bride ; he declined attending the coronation as a Peer, which he was entitled to do, taking precedence of all the ancient Barons; and when the writ of summons to the parliament requiring him to be present to counsel the King circa ardua regni was delivered to him, he said,—“ I have done with such vanities." While squabbles were going on in parliament, first at Westminster and then at Oxford, whither it was necessary to adjourn on account of the plague,and the nation was in a flame by the abrupt dissolution,—he remained in retirement at Gorhambury, and as far as his exhausted frame would permit, dedicated himself to those studies which he regretted had been so often interrupted by pursuits neither calcu lated to confer internal peace nor solid glory.

He even heard without emotion, in the following November, that preparatory to the summoning of another parliament, Lord Keeper Williams had been dismissed, and that, without any application or communication to himself, the Great Seal had been transferred to Sir Thomas Coventry. He foresaw that his earthly career was drawing to a close, and he prepared to meet his end with decency and courage. He was reconciled to Bishop Williams, whom he forgave the various evil turns he had formerly so bitterly complained of, and even now admitted into his confidence.

On the 19th of December, 1625, with his own hand he wrote his last will,--which contains touches of true pathos and sublimity. After some introductory words, he thus proceeds: "For my

*Even in his last will he cannot conceal his sense of the inconstancy of Charles, whom he thus describes: "My most gracious Sovereign, who ever when he was Prince was my patron."