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EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER

MACAULAY AND BACON

JAMES SPEDDINO

WITH A PREFATORY NOTICE BY
a. S. VENABLES

"Nam isti homines, stylo acres, juilicio inipares, et partis sure nieinores,
rcrum minus fideles testes sunt." — Bacon

IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I.

LONDON
KEGAN PAUL, TEENCH & CO., 1, PATERNOSTER SQUARE

1881

(Th" r! ilils nf Iransiitln,, and nf rci.r.J -icl ion are rrscrrc''.')

\0 1

v',\

PBEFACE.

It lias been thouglit desirable to publish one of
the most characteristic writings of a man of letters
who made no effort to acquire popular reputation.
In the opinion of competent judges, Mr. Spedding
was second to none of his contemporaries in power
of reasoning, in critical sagacity, or in graceful
purity of style ; nor had he any superior in con-
scientious industry. No one has hitherto possessed
so complete a knowledge of the subject to which his
life was chiefly devoted ; and it is improbable that
future students should throw additional light on the
career and character of Bacon. In the course of
his indefatigable researches, Mr. Spedding deduced
many independent and original conclusions from
the profound familiarity which he had acquired
with the history of the time. The relation of the
" Evenings Avith a Reviewer " to Spedding's ex-
haustive " Life of Bacon " will be noticed hereafter.
It may be convenient, in the first instance, to give
a short account of his own quiet and laborious life.

James Spedding was born at his father's resi-
dence, Mirehouse, in Cum.bcrland, in June, 1808.

vi PREFACE.

lie was edncatcd at tlio Grammar Scliool of Bury
St. Jvliiiuiurs, wliere amon,^' liis friends and con-
tem|K)ra7-ies wei'e some of the sons of Sir Samuel
Ixomilly, and John KemLle, afterwards eminent as
a pliiloloo-ist and antiquarian. In 1827 he hegan
residence at Trinity Colleo-e, Cambridge, of which he
became a scholar, and in later life an honorary
ft'lJow. His success both in his own college and in
the University examinations would have been more
brilliant if he had ])ossessed the gift of rai)id com-
position and translation. It was his nature to be
in all things deliberate; and he was neither willing
nor able to struggle against liis characteristic tem-
])erament. At a later period of his life he gave as
a i-eason for declining a high a})pointment in the
])ublic service, that he should have fouiid it in-
tolci'ablc to tiu'n his attention to ten or twenty
uncoiuieclcd matters in the course of a single day.
His powei' of sustained labour has rai'ely been sui'-
])as.sed, but in his intellect and liis temperameiit
tliei'e was no versatility. Tliougli be niMlber took
a high degi'ee nor olitained a felI^)^vsh^p, Sjteddiiig
w;is an acc(iiii])|islied cinssical scholar. A Plutonic
diidogur, in \vliieh with dramatic iitness lui resolved
i'";dsi;ilt""s disfjinsii ion on luniour into a. sei'ies of
(jlh'stinns addressed to ;i ])U/.zl('d int el'loeut or b\'
Socrati's. icx'niMeMl liis modrl idmost ;is fMitlifulK' in
(ii'cek- styli- as in 1 lioi'diigliU- congeniid I'easoning.
^o nii^ndn'r ot tin- well-k'UDWi: soeielx' of ( ^inibn(li:-e
apn>||i-s was iiioi-e lic'irt il\- i-cspretcd and beli)\-cd
hy Ins ni;iny rri''n(l> within ;ind withdiit that hod\ .

PBEFA CE. Vll

The manner which faithfully represented his dis-
position was already formed, and it never afterwards
varied. Calm and unimpassioned, he contributed his
full share to conversation in a musical voice which
never rose above its ordinary pitch. The ready
smile with which he welcomed humorous or amusing-
remarks was singularly winning. His impertur-
bable good temper might have seemed more meri-
torious, if it had been possible to test his equanimity
by treating him with negligence or harshness. The
just impression of wisdom which was produced by
his voice, his manner, and the substance of his
conversation, was well described in the form of
humorous exaggeration by one of the acutest and
most brilliant women of his time, Harriet, the second
Lady Ashburton. Lord Houghton, in his " Mono-
graphs," quotes her as saying, " I always feel a kind
of average between myself and any other person
I am talking with — ^between us two, I mean ; so
that when I am talking to Spedding I am unutter-
ably foolish — beyond permission." While his closer
intimacies were warm and lastiiig, liis relations to
those with whom he associated, in all degrees of
acquaintance, were cordial and kindly. Among his
contemporary friends and companions at Cambridge
were Mr. Charles Tennyson, Mr. Alfred Tennyson,
Lord Houghton, Archbishop Trench, Dr. Thompson
(now Master of Trinity), Arthur Hallam, Dean
Merivale and Dean Blakesley, Thackeray, Edmund
Lushinp'ton, and Henrv Lushinp-ton. Li ii'resistibjo
humour nunc of them rivalled BrookJiehl, ot' whom

Vlll PREFACE.

Spedding said, in a graceful contribution to Lord
Lyttelton's Memoir, "In liim a -new and original
form of human genius was revealed to me." One
of the few survivors may be pardoned for retaining,
after fifty years, the opinion or prejudice that the
society in which Spedding and his Cambridge
friends then lived was extraordinarily interesting
and genial.

After taking liis degree in 1831, Spedding re-
sided principally at Cambridge, till in 1835 he
entered the Colonial Office on the introduction of
Sir Henry Taylor, who was to the end of Spedding's
life one of his most valued and most appreciative
friends. Sir Henry Tavlor has kindly allowed me
to insert in the present account a notice, which he
liad written fur another purpose, of Spedding's short
oflicial career. But for Sir Henry Taylor's unques-
tioned authority as a competent and interested
obf^erver, I should have thought that, for tlie reason
ex]:)ressed by himself, official life was not well suited
to S])edding's tastes and habits of thought ; but
p('rha])s his business in the Colonial Oflice may not
have l>een as various as that of an Under Secretary
of State.

"At this time" (1835), says Sir Henry Taylor,
" I obtained another relief [in tlie work of the
Colonial Office], and in obtaining it obtained a
Jrieud lor life, James Spedding was the younger
son of a Cumberland sfpiire who had been a friend
of my 1;it]i(M'"s in former days, though 1 tliink thev
had not met in latter. In the m^tes to Van xVrte-

PBEFACE. IX

velde 1 had quoted a passage from an admirable
speech spoken in a debating club at Cambridge
when he was an undergraduate. This led to my
making his acquaintance ; and when some very
laborious business of detail had to be executed, I
obtained authority to offer him the employment, with
a remuneration of £150 a year. He was in a diffi-
culty at that time about the choice of a profession ;
and, feeling that a life without business or occu-
pation of some kind was dangerous, was glad to
accept this employment as one which might answer
the purpose well enough, if he proved suited to it,
and, if not, might be relinquished without difficulty
and exchanged for some other. I wrote to Mr.
Southey (24th January, 183G), ' Spedding has been
and will be invaluable, and they owe me much
for him. He is regarded on all hands, not only as
a man of first-rate capacity, but as having quite a
genius for business. I, for my part, have never seen
anything like him for business on this side Stephen.
. . . When I contemplate the long labours of
Stephen and one or two others, I am disposed to
think that there are giants in tliese days.' For six
years S^^edding worked away with universal appro-
bation, and all this time he would have been willing
to accept a post of precis-writer with £300 a year,
or any other such recognized position, and to attach
himself permanently to the office ; but none such
was placed at his disposal. Stephen had once said
to me, when advising me to depend upon the public
and upon literature for advancement, and not upon

X rUEFA CE.

Tlie Government, ' Yon may write off tlie first joint
of voiir finQ-ers for them, and then you may write
off tlie second joint, and all that they will say of
you is, " What a remarkably short-fini^-ered man."' '
They did not say this of Spedding, Lut they did
nothing- for him, and he took the o})portunity of the
AVliig Goyernment going out in 1841 to giye up
his employment. He then a|)})lied himself to edit
the works and vindicate the fame of Lord Bacon."

Two or three years ago Spedding republished
from the Kdbihui'fjh luv'iew some articles in whicli
he had defended the Jamaica policy of Lord Mel-
bourne's Goyernment, whicli was, 1 believe, in great
measui'c directed by j^ir Henry Taylor. It w;is
impossil)]e to revive, after a lapse of forty years, tlie
interest wlilcli had been felt at tlie time in a cuii-
troversv \o\vj: since furirutten. (Virions readers who
I'emeniliered the contemporary discussion had no
difliciilty in I'ccogiiizing S[)edding"s forensic nljility
as advocate of a cau^e wliicli lie would not have
undertaken to defend, if he had not l^elieved it to
1)0 j'lst. Xo other record I'emains of liis ol'ticial
cai'cer, exc('|)t in Hir Jleury Taylor's eloipicnt ti'il»iiie
to his miM'its. In iSi2 Speilding accompanied tlie
first Lor(l Ashbiirton as })ri\-ate secretary on his
mission io .Vnieriea, for the settlement of 1lie dispiii<i
on llie Xortli-Wesi JJoimdai'y. The oiilv juibllc
e'liiployiiKMit whicl! be afterwards iinderlook was that
of s<,'('n_'t;iry to thii (Ji\'il Ser\'ice Commission when
It was tir>t insiituted in Is.")."). ^Vs soon ;is the ofllet!
w.'i> hi-MU'_;hi iiiio \s-w)-kin_.- oi'der. he lo.-^t lu.i linie

PREFACE. XI

in transferring liis duties to Mr. J. Gr. Maitland,
whom he recommended as his successor. It was by
his own choice that he passed his life in gratiutoiis
literary labour. "In 1847," says Sir Henry Taylor,
" on Sir James Stephen's retirement, the office of
Under Secretary of State, with £2000 a year, was
offered to him by Lord Grrey (before it was offered
to me), and he could not be induced to accept it.
He could not be brought to believe, what no one
else doubted, that he was equal to the duties. ])0
this as it may, the fact that this man, being well
known and close at hand for six years, who could
have been had for £300 a year in 1841, should have
been let slip, though he was thought worth £2000
a year in 1847, if not a rare, is a clear example of
the little heed given l)y the Government of this
country to the choice and use of instruments. It
M^as at my suggestion that tlie offer was made ; but
I am not sorry that it was declined. He has de-
voted his singular abilities and his infinite industry
in research, during a long life, to a great cause, and
Lord Bacon will become known to posterity, gradu-
ally perhaps, but surely, as the man that ho truly
was — illustrious bej-ond all others except Shake-
speare in his intellect, and, with whatever infirmities,
still not less than noble in his moral mind. . . .
James Spedding was well quit of the Colonial Oilico.
His friends, it is true, were hii2'hlv dissatisfied with
his decision to refuse the ollice of Under Secretary
of State; but he maintained that \io, knew his own
deficiencies belter than tliev, an<l obscr\(jd, with the

Xll PREFACE.

cjuiet humour wliicli was characteristic of him, tliat
' it was fortunate he was by when the decision was
taken,' "

His own judgment must be accepted ; but of all
others who could form an estimate of his qualifica-
tions for the office, the man best entitled to be heard
is he who w^as leaving it. Sir James Stephen. Owing
to the state of his health, he was absent at the time
when the questions of this or that successor were
discussed ; but Sir Henry Taylor was in corre-
sjDondence with hira, and on the 20th October, he
wrote : " It is a perfect cordial to me to hear of
Spedding. How could I be so stupid as to forget
him ? — so gentle, so wise, so luminous, and, in his
own quiet way, so energetic is he, that I Avould
rather devolve my functions in his hands than to
any person I know or have known,"

It would be dillicult to find another instance in
wliich a man of great ability and of cousidertible
oflicial experience lias decHned a high })Osition and
a liljeral income for the sake of a laborious and
unrcmunerative literary enterprise. The desire of
fame or of anv other jjcrsonal advantage had ]io
share in his deliberate clioice of a career, J lis sole
object was to dispel prevalent delusions by viiidi-
catijig the character of ]]acon. His own estimate of
his unfitiiess for the office which he declined was
undoubtedly sincere. Disinclination to a ra])id suc-
cession of matters to be dealt with in public business
shared with liis devotion to J^acon in the delernii-
Jiatioji ot Ins course of life.

PREFACE. Xlll

It is not known that he at any subsequent time
regretted a decision which appeared to many fanciful
and perverse. His life before and after his rejection
of official rank was uniform and uneventful. Ilis
habits were active and manly. He was a good
walker and an excellent swimmer ; and till after
middle life he regularly shot. Spedding for some
years occupied chambers in Lincoln's Inn Fields,
which were the frequent resort of many of his
contemporaries, and of younger friends whose ac-
quaintance he was always ready to cultivate. In
his later years he lived with some members of his
family in Westbourne Terrace. His habits con-
tinued to be sociable ; and in the intervals of his
literary labour he practised simple recreations for
the occupation of his leisure or the benefit of his
health. He became moderately proficient in archery,
and he was a persevering, though scarcely a suc-
cessful, student of the art of billiards. A growing
deafness, which was the only infirmity caused by
advancing age, tended to depress his spirits, but
there was to the last little change in his habits of
life.

Like many literary predecessors, Spedding had
probably formed an insufficient estimate of the
magnitude of his projected undertaking. His edi-
tion of Bacon, with the accompanying Life, occu-
pied him for nearly thirty years, to the regret of
some who thouccht that the exclusive devotion of a
long life and of ability approaching to genius was
a heavy price to pay for the attainment of a not

XIV rnEFACE.

inconsiderable object. On the otlier hand, com-
petent judges, among whom Sir Henry Taylor is
perhaps entitled to the highest rank, have thought
that the task which Spedding perfectly accomplished
is worth all the sacrifice which it involved. On the
publication in 18G1 of the first two volumes of the
*• Life and Letters of Lord l>acon," Sir Henry Taylor,
in a letter to a friend, did justice not only to the
book, but to the diligence and genius of tlie author :
" I have been reading Spedding's ' Life of Bacon '
with profound interest and admiration — admiration,
not of the perfect style and penetrating judgment
only, but also of the extraordinary labour bestowed
upon the work by a lazy man ; the labour of some
twenty years, I believe, spent in rummaging among
old records in all places where they were to be
found, and collating different co})ies of manuscripts
written in the handwriting of the sixteenth century,
and noting the minutest variations of one from
anotlier — an inexpressibly tedious kind of drudgery,
and, what was perhaps still worse, searching far and
wide, waiting, watching, peering, prying, througli
long years fur records which no industry could
recover. I doubt whether there be any other ex-
ample in literary history of so large an intellect as
S|)ediling's devoting itself with so much self-saci'i-
fice to the illustration of one which was larger still ;
and doing so out of reverence, not so much fur that
larg(.'st intellect as for the truth concerning it." At
a later period Sir TIenry Taylor enteivd more fully
into the dillicultics which Spedding had to over-

PREFACE. XV

come, and into the reception of the book and its
effect upon the author : " Fourteen years' more
labour were to follow [after 1861] and five more
volumes. And his heroic perseverance had to main-
tain itself ao-ainst divers discourao;ements. As lono-
as books last, and philosophy is cared for, and there
are human beings who care to investigate human in-
tellect and human nature in one of its most wonder-
ful manifestations, the most elaborate and authentic,
and, I will say also, most impartial ' Life of Lord
Bacon ' will be read by the studious and highly
cultivated classes in each generation. But these
are the few, and popularity is not to be expected for
biographers such as these. To the popular mind
impartiality is not interesting. A story told by a
bold and vigorous partisan, fastening upon the
features and incidents which are sure to take effect,
finding no difficulties, or, if finding them, keeping
them sedulously out of sight, rounding off every-
thing into a factitious clearness and consistency —
such a story of a life will have a much better chance
of popular acceptation than the other. Popularity,
therefore, had never been in question ; and in so far
as some of the facts he presented ran counter to
long- established misconceptions and prejudices, there
was perhaps an element of M?zpopularity. But, in
some cases, not popular sympathy only, but the
sympathy of personal friends was found wanting ;
and that not from dissent or opposition in opinion,
but from simple indifference and neglect. One of
tliem so flir misconceived tlie situation as to con-

XVI PREFACE.

gratulate liira on the publication of the first two
vohimes as the completion of his task, kindly ex-
horting^ him to undertake another. This he men-
tioned in a letter to me, adding that, ' if he had not
known all that long ago, and digested all that it
implied,' he should have thought it discouraging !
' But,' he added, ' I have long been aware that to
ninety-nine hundredths of the reading public, in-
cluding about nine-tenths of my own particular
friends, the most satisfactory intelligence with
regard to my immortal work would be that there is
no more to come, and that I might have made that
announcement at the end of my volume without
danger of detection. ... In the vote on the ques-
tion whether my idea of T3acon"s character is the
right one, I have always expected a large majority
against me ; and, indeed, for tliat matter, I care very
little how it goes. All I want is, that tliose wlio
would sympathize with me if they heard tlic .>tory
rightly told should not be prevented by hearing it
told wrong.' "

Sir Henry Taylor relates how at one time Sped-
ding's interest in his work seemed to decline. His
eyes and memory were, he said, no longer wliat tliey
had been, and both research and composition were
irksome to liim. "But, after a year or so of rest,
there is found a revival of the old ardour, and the
eyes and the memory prove themselves not unequal
to twelve or thirteen years more of their long-en-
during and not easily exhaustible efforts. . . . The
labours of more than thirty years reached their com-

FliEFACE. XVll

pletion in 1874, and the truth of fact — fact developed
from Bacon's life, and fact throwing light upon it —
was presented to mankind in all its length and
breadth and height and depth, leaving it to the
justice of mankind to arrive at such truth of inference
as long-established prepossessions might permit."

During the long continuance of Spedding's
labours on Bacon, the episodes or intellectual diver-
sions in which he indulged sometimes partook of the
nature of hobbies. Though he was in political
opinion a steady Liberal, he felt but a slight and
occasional interest in ordinary political disputes ;
but in 1848 and 1849 he became a vehement par-
tisan of Hungary, which was then engaged in its
gallant struggle against Austrian usurpation. He
was on the side of justice or historical right, but
there were before and after that time many contests
for just causes in which he took only a faint interest.
In later years he became a zealous and powerful
advocate of the theory that words should be written
in strict conformity to the actual or assumed pro-
nunciation of the day. He was always ready to
defend by forcible or plausible argument a doctrine
which for the present lies outside the range of prac-
tical controversy. It would seem that some persons
are destined by nature to lapse into the phonetic
heresy, while the rest of the world is beyond the
reach of proselytism. In some vigorous minds, and
to a certain extent in Spedding's, originality tends
to border on paradox. He found readier sympathy
in his literary predilections, which were for the most

VOL. I. h

xvni PREFACE.

part both earnest and just, though they were by
choice or accident limited to a few authors. His
study of philosophy or scientific method was, I think,
confined to Bacon ; and his knowledge of the details
of history extended in neither direction beyond the
times of Elizabeth and James I. He took pleasure
in disjolaying, and sometimes in exaggerating, his
want of acquaintance with many things which arc
supposed to be universally known. He was in the
habit of saying that he got undeserved credit for
knowledge, because no one would believe that such
a man could be so profoundly ignorant. His ap-
parently simple desire for information not unfre-
quently resolved itself into a Socratic exposure of
fallacies ; but it was true that he deliberately ab-
stained from the study of subjects in which he felt
no concern. The literature of fiction for the most
part failed to attract him, but he had a minute and
accurate knowledge of Miss Austen's novels. In the
spirit of a thorough-going admirer and loyal cham-
pion, he formerly maintained that j\Iiss Austen had
never made a mistake; and, when he was reminded
that Emma ate strawberries in Mr. Knightley's
garden under apple trees in blossom, he took mucli
trouble to ascertain whether some apple blossoms are
not very late, and some strawberries very early. At
last he had the candour to admit that Miss Austen's
perfect fidelity to nature had been in a single in-
stance interrupted. His poetical tastes were more
comprehensive. His appreciation of AVurd^iworth
was neither enthusiastic nor iridiscriuiinate ; and he

PREFACE. xix

admired Byron, who was less cordially liked by his
contemporary friends. He thought with good reason
that Keats would have become a poet of a very high
order, and he was one of the earliest and steadiest
votaries of the genius of Tennyson. It is well
known that the touching little poem which bears his
initials was addressed to Spedding. To the collected
edition of Charles (Tennyson) Turner's beautiful
sonnets he contributed an excellent critical essay.
His knowledge of Shakespeare was extensive and
profound, and his laborious and subtle criticism
derived additional value from his love of the stage.
In his collected essays on subjects unconnected
with Bacon is included an instructive criticism on
Miss Ellen Terry's representation of Portia, and
on the character itself and the due place of Portia
in the play. In his opinion Shylock had, througli
the histrionic capabilities of his part, usurped in
popular estimation the protagonism which, as he
thought, properly belonged to Portia. A genera-
tion has passed away since Spedding was induced to
become an enthusiastic admirer of Mdlle. Jenny
Lind by the combined charm of her voice and of her
exquisite acting. His musical taste was as little
diffusive as his political sympathy. Jenny Lind
among singers, like Hungary among insurgent
nations, had a monopoly of his devotion. He had
a genuine love of art and a discriminating taste,
and he took pleasure in the society of painters and
sculptors. His knowledge of science was confined
to his mathematical studies at Cambridge. He knew

XX FEE FACE.

little or nothing of the pursuits which seemed to
Bacon alone worthy of a philosopher.

His violent and sudden death caused a wide-
spread feeling of regret, as well as deep distress to
those who were nearest to him. On the 1st of
j\[arch, 1881, he was knocked down and severely
injured by a cab at the bottom of Hay Hill. The
occupant of the cab, instead of ascertaining his ad-
dress, sent him to St. George's Hospital, from which
it was afterwards found impossible to remove him to
his home. The case was from the first hopeless, and
he died in the hospital on the 9th. While he was
still conscious, he was careful to assure those around
him that the driver was not to blame. The almost
paradoxical love of justice, whether or not his
opinion was well founded, was in the highest degree
characteristic.

The imperfect or deferred attainment of the chief
object of his life was, I think, in some degree
attributable to an original error in the i)lan of liis
work. His vindication of the character of Bacon is,
as he intended, complete and conclusive, but onl\' on
the condition tliat it is read. He insisted tliat liis
readers should have before them all lhe proofs on
wliich his own convictions were founded. In liis
great work the documentary evidence, consisting
mainly of Bacon's letters and occasional writings, is
inserted at proper intervals in tlie midst oi" tlic
biographer's argument and narrative, liy an almost
})erverse self-effacement, the extracts are given in large
print, and the iar more interesting ''liife of Bacon *

FEE FACE. XXI

in small print. Spcdding was never in a liurry, and
lie knew that lie was too late to convert liis own
generation, but he determined, as he said, that all
persons who might be born in or after 1850 should
have the means of forming an accurate and inde-
pendent judgment. Many of his expected proselytes
have now reached middle life without taking ad-
vantage of the opportunities which he provided.
It is the business of a literary artist, and especially
of an historian, while he collects raw materials only
for his own use, to supply finished products to his
readers. Spedding may boast of an illustrious
imitator, for the plan of Carlyle's history of Oliver
Cromwell was borrowed from the cumbrous arrange-
ment of the " Life of Bacon." Even the irritating
distinction of type is transferred from the original
to the copy ; for both biographers seem to have been
affected by the spirit of hero-worship which led
Assyrian sculptors to represent kings on a larger
scale than that which was assigned to themselves as
ordinary men. If the text of the " Life of Bacon "
had not been disfigured by incessant interpolations
it would not have been unreasonably voluminous. In
Spedding's own composition there is nothing super-
fluous or tedious ; and the style is vigorous, pure,
and transparently clear. The " Evenings with a
Reviewer," written five and thirty years ago, and
now for the first time published, contain the substance
of the argument which was afterwards fortified by
detailed proofs and illustrations. The friends who
at the time received copies of the book regretted with

XXll PREFACE.

good reason S^wdding's resolution to postpone tlie
publication ; and he seems, after a long interval, to
have discovered his mistake in suppressing his more
compendious vindication of Bacon's character. lie
had recently prepared the book for the press, with
little change beyond the suppression of passages
which might seem to be tinged with controversial
acrimony.

Macaulay's " Essay on Bacon," written during his
residence in India, has confirmed the vulgar belief
on which it was founded more effectually than if it
had been more elaborate in its details. Readers wdio
are familiar with Macaulay's intellectual mannerism
cannot but have observed that the essay is a mere
amplification of Pope's hackneyed paradox about the
greatest, wisest, and meanest of mankind. The
almost hyperbolical language in which Bacon's
genius is exalted prepares the way for indignation
and contempt against the alleged baseness and ser-
vility of his practical career. Although the first
gloss of Macaulay's popularity is worn off, it may
be hoped that the essay is still sufficiently well
known to excite an interest in the question whether
the rhetorical antithesis which it propounds is
either credible or true. Tliose who may be sufll-
ciently curious to study Spedding's examination of
Macaulay's elaborate libel will be surprised to find
that the comment is at least as entertaining as tlio
text, while it is infinitely more conclusive. On some
points there may still be room for a difference of
opinion, as for instance on the completeness of llie

PREFACE. XXI 11

exculpation of Bacon in liis relations to Essex ; but
few students of Spedcling's apology will recur to the
moral standard by which Macaulay judges of the
transaction. The biographical epigrammatist thinks
it sufficient to compare the pecuniary benefits which
had been respectively conferred on Bacon by Eliza-
beth and by Essex. The grave historian reminds
the serious inquirer that, as Bacon owed loyal alle-
giance to the parsimonious queen, he was bound
to vindicate her cause against his open-handed
friend who had become a rebel. It was an easier
task to expose the futility of the incessant sneers
and misrepresentations which Macaulay directs
against Bacon because he complied with the cere-
monious usages of his time. For the fatal irregu-
larities which caused Bacon's fall Spedding offers
no defence, but he succeeds in extenuating errors
which scarcely amounted to crimes. It is a matter
of serious regret that Macaulay had not the oppor-
tunity of reading the " Evenings with a Reviewer."
In other cases it was his habit to trust to his
reputation, and to the comparative obscurity of his
critics, even in cases where, according to every judg-
ment but his own, they had clearly convicted him
of error. In republishing the " Essay on Bacon,"
he boldly relied on the improbability that his readers
should have consulted Mr. Jardine's treatise on the
Law of Torture, which he slightly mentions. He
justly calculated on the general indifference with
which Mr. Impey's vindication of the character of his
o-randfather the Chief Justice was received ; and

XXIV PBEFACE.

with less good fortune he underrated the demon-
stration of his mistakes which is contained in ^Ir.
Paget's " New Examen." He could scarcely have
afforded to treat the " Evenin^-s with a Eeviewer "
with equal levity. Spedding was his intellectual
equal, and he was not unknown in literary and
general society. ]\Iacaulay could scarcely have failed
to perceive that his own superficial acquaintance with
the history of Bacon was not to he compared with
the results of long and profound study. At a later
time Spedding was in the habit of suggesting a
conjectural excuse for Macaulay's occasional inac-
curacy, and for his obstinacy in refusing to correct
his mistakes. Both peculiarities were with much
probability ascribed to habitual reliance on a mar-
vellous memory. The errors which could not always
be avoided during his youthful accumulation of
various knowledge became stereotyped in a recol-
lection which probably reproduced with unfailing
fidelity the original impression. It might be ex-
cusable in a hasty student to accept and to exaggerate
the popular estimate of Bacon's character; and farther
study and reconsideration probably seemed super-
fluous. The proverljial warning, " Cave ab liouiine
unius libri," was naturally overlooked by the pos-
sessor of vast stores of miscellaneous erudition.

The most valuable part of Macaulay's " ]^]ssay on
Bacon " is his bold and ino-enious reduction of

J>acon's philosophical doctrine to the sim])le rules
of common sense. In the " Evenings with a lio-
viewer" Spedding wholly abstains fi'om dealing

PllEFACE. XXV

witli questions of wliicli he never considered him-
self a thoroughly competent judge. His vindication
of Bacon's character from the popular imputation
of meanness could in no degree have been strength-
ened by arguments in support of the admission
that he was also the greatest of mankind, but
Spedding profoundly believed in the soundness of
the general estimate of Bacon's services to the cause
of knowledge. He justly deemed himself fortunate
in securing the aid of the late Mr. R. Leslie Ellis
as editor of Bacon's Philosophical Works. No
commentator was more capable than Mr. Ellis of
appreciating any relation which might be found to
exist between the precepts contained in the " Novum
Organon " and the scientific discoveries of later
times. Writers of the rank of Sir John Herschel
and Dr. Whewell have in recent times confirmed by
their authority the long-established belief that the
philosojiher

" Whom a wise king and Nature chose
Lord Chancellor of Loth their laws "

had prepared the way for the conquests which he
was not himself permitted to achieve —

" And from the Pisgah-top of his exalted wit
Beheld the promised land, and showed us it."

Mr. Ellis, in his learned and argiunentative preface
to the Philosophical Works, examined more severely
the pretensions which have been advanced on be-
half of the most eloquent commentator since Plato
on the conditions of human knowledge. In his

XXVI niEFACE.

conclusions Mr. Ellis will be found not to differ widely
from Lord Macaulay. He deduces from careful in-
quiry the proposition that Bacon contributed nothing-
to the process of induction, and that his scientific
method would not have conduced to the advance of
knowledge, if it had ever been applied to the purpose
by any discoverer. For the general knowledge, for
the practical wisdom, and for the imaginative
eloquence of Bacon Mr. Ellis expresses cordial ad-
miration ; but his rejection of Bacon's supposed
claims to the gratitude of mankind must have
disappointed his enthusiastic coadjutor. With cha-
racteristic honesty Spedding both published Mr.
Ellis's- preface in his edition, and called attention
to his disparaging judgment of Bacon's services to
science. His own unshaken belief in the importance
of the " Novum Organon " was not inconsistent
with Mr. Ellis's assertion that Bacon's method had
never been tried by men of science. The zealous
biographer was inclined to suspect that their neglect
had obstructed the process of discovery, and he per-
suaded himself that the greater attention devoted in
the present day to the collection of physical facts
involved a tardy and wholesome approximation to
Bacon's neglected method. The issue was not
material to his life-long task. The historical and
biographical conclusions which he established de-
pend on an exhaustive accumulation of evidence
arranged and interpreted by the clearest of intellects
with an honesty which is rarely known in con-
troversial discussion. No more conscientious, no

FEEFACE. XXV 11

more sagacious critic has employed on a not un-
worthy task the labour of a life. It will be well,
rather for students of history and of character than
for himself, if his just fame is rescued from the
neglect which he regarded with unafiected indif-
ference.

G. S. v.

EVENING THE FIRST.

Ediuburgh Review, July 1837. — Judex damnaiur cum
nocens ahsolvitur. — Now, then, are you ready ?

" We return our hearty thanks — •"

I suppose we need not trouble ourselves with the preliminary
flourish. It is only the ceremony of shaking hands before
the fight.

Ko, no. I cannot let 3[acaulay go away with his first
paragraph on that pretence. It is not a matter of compli-
ment : it is the judgment of the Edinburgh lleview upon
the merits of the book.

" We return our hearty thanks to 3Ir. Montagu, as well fur
his ver}' valuable edition of Lord Bacon's works, as for the
instructive Life of the immortal author contained in the la^t
volume. We have much to say on the subject of this Life, and
■will often find ourselves obliged to dissent from the oj)iiiions of
the biographer. But abuut his merits as a collector of the
materials out of which opirduns are formed there can be no
dispute. And we reaiily acknowledge that wc are in great
measure indebted to his minute and accurate researches for tlie
means of refuting what wc cannot but consider as his errors."
A'OL. I. r.

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEW EH.

Stop. It is not worth while to enter upon the question
as to the real merits of Mr. Montagu's well-meant book.
But it is worth while to say that this critical estimate of it
is so absurdly inapplicable that I can only suppose it to
have been pronounced at mere hap-hazard. Ask anybody
who has read the Life with attention, or attempted to use
the edition, and he will tell you that no competent critic
who cared whether he described the book correctly or not
could possibly have described it so. Tor my own part I
believe that the reviewer did in fact never trouble his hea 1
to consider what an edition of Bacon ought to be ; — perhaps
had not even turned over the leaves of half the fifteen
volumes octavo upon which he was pronouncing judgment.

Very likely. lie was going to review Bacon himself, not
his editor. It suited him to use Montagu's facts in order to
overthrow his theory ; and a good round compliment like
this was a striking position to start from ; besides that it
made a show (however delusive) of candour. AA'hether the
compliment were merited or not, I suppose he did not
trouble himself to inquire. I told you it was only a flourish,
— shaking hands before the fight.

Yes; but remember, when I charge him })rcscntly witli
the same kind of recklessness in making round assertions,
without caring whether ho has any ground I'or ihoni or not,
you arc not to say that he is incapable of it. liomembcr,
that it will not be the first time he lias been ])u]Ied up for
that offence. Judex damnatur cum riocens ahsoJvitnr. Tlio
guilty has been acquitted in the first page : sec now whether
he will not attempt to mend the matter by condemning tlio
innocent.

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. ?>

"Well, here are more compliments : — " Labour of love,"
" generous enthusiasm," " activity," " perseverance," " zeal
which has perverted his judgment," &c. &c. Will you
have all this ?

No, I allow all that. And I have not much to say upon
the next paragraph, in which the reviewer apologises on
behalf of the rest of mankind for the weakness of treating
their benefactors with tenderness. I am not myself con-
cerned to advocate the practice ; and if he has any tendency
that way himself (as he seems to confess), I think we must all
acquit him in this case of the weakness of yielding to it. It
may be as well to say however, by way of caution, that I
think him quite wrong as to the fact. I never saw that
posterity was reluctant to think ill of the personal characters
of great ivriters. I was never taught, nor ever wished, to
think of Sallust as a good man. Who has tried to prove
that Fielding did not bilk landladies ? And as for Shake-
speare's cudgelling of gamekeepers, if we are so reluctant to
believe him capable of such a thing, why da we believe it ?
There is no evidence of the fact except a popular rumour,
which cannot be traced back within half a century of the
time when it is supposed to have been committed. The
truth is, it is not great ivriters whose faults are winked at by
posterity, but great sufferers, where the suffering has been
exhibited in picturesque and pathetic situations. But this
is not our business at present. Let Cicero and Middleton
pass. We will suppose if you will that " a great writer is
the friend and benefactor of his readers, and they cannot but
judge of him under the deluding influence of friendship and
gratitude," — (those are the words, I think) — and that Bacon
owes the popular estimate of his personal character, " wisest,
brightest, meanest," &c., to the prevalence of that affectionate
delusion. Pass on to the bottom of page 4, where business
be Of ins.

4 I^l-£yiS'GS WITH A IIEVIEWEL.

" Mr. 3Iontagu's faith is siucere and implicit. Tie practises
no trickery ; he conceals nothing; he puts the facts befurc iis in
the full confidence that they will produce on our minds the
etfect they have produced on his own. It is not till he comes tc)
reason from facts to motives that his partiality .shows itself; and
then he leaves Middleton himself far hehind. His work proceeds
on the assumption that Bacon was an eminently virtuous man.
From the tree Mr. Montagu judges of the fruit ''

Well, if a tree has to my knowledge borne apples for
twenty years, I suppose I may suspect some mistake when L
am told that it has borne crabs on the twenty-first.

Stop a moment : we are not at tlie end of the sentence.

"lie is forced to relate many actions which, it' any man hut
Bacon had committed them, nobody -would have dreamed nf
defending, which are readily and completely explained by sup-
posing Bacon to have been a man Avhose principles weie Udt
strict and -whose spirit was not higli, — actions which can be ex-
plained in no other -way Avitlmut resnrting ti> some grottsfjuo
hypothesis, for Avhich there is not a tittle of evidence. But
any hypothesis is in 3Ir. Montagu's o})inion miire proljable
than that his hero should ever have dojie anything very
wa'ong. This mode of defending Bacon seems to us by no
means Baconian. To take a man's character for granted, and
then from his character to infer the moral (juality of his actions,
is surely a process the very reveise of that Avhich is rccoiiim(;ndt_'d
in the Nuvuia Oryanuui. Xothing, we are sure, could have h;d
Mr. Montagu to depart so far from his master's precepts except
zeal for his master's honour."

v>.

Stay a moment, aiul consider. Xow, does all lliis
sound to you like a fair exposition of 31r. ^Montagu's inodic^
operandi? Do y<ni think ho really liegan his study of
Bacon's actions b\- lakinii" his character foi- grarded ?

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 5

Nay, how slioiild I know ? If lie did not, the reviewer
does him injustice,

To he sure he (hjes : and you will find that he does in-
justice to everybody in the same way. But does it not
carry exaggeration and caricature on the face of it ? I do
not say that Mr. Montagu is not jDartial for Bacon, any
more than that Macaulay is not partial against him. Both,
of tliem have a pleasure in making their periods round and
their picture complete ; and both try occasionally to effect
it by supposing circumstances for which, though possible,
they can produce no evidence. But the method is logical
enough. Mr. JMontagu had a general impression of Bacon's
character, not -^xQ-assum'ed, but pre-formed upon a general
survey of his words and actions— of the context of his life.
It is quite right that in interpreting each separate passage
this general impression should be taken into account. Every
man is entitled to the benefit of such an impression. Xo
court of justice rejects as irrelevant evidence to the
prisoner's general character where the direct evidence leaves
room for doubt. ]Mr. Montagu started, not with a theory
that a great writer must be a good man, but with a notion
derived in the same way in which we all derive our notions
of each other's character, that Bacon vas a good man.

Well, well. Never mind Mr. j\[ontagu : our business is
with Bacon. Whether the reviewer be right or wrong in
charging this fault upon Mr. Montagu, it will be enough
for me if he avoid it himself. Listen to this : — -

" We shall pursue a different courftO. We .shall attempt,
with the valuable assistance -which Mr. Montagu has afforded

us, TO FRAME SUCH AN ACCOUXT OF BaCOx's LIFE AS MAY ENABLE OUR
READERS CORRECTLY TO ESTIMATE IIlS CHARACTER."

Come, what can you desire better than that ?

0 EVENINGS WITH A EEVIEWER.

Xotliing. I am glad to licar yon read the passage with
such emphasis ; for I may have occasion to remind yon of
it. I nnderstand then that lie is addressing himself not
simply to overthrow 3[r. 3[ontagn's cstiuiate, nor simply to
make ont a case for his own, but to present the facts in such
a way that yon and I (who are supposed to know nothing of
the matter) may form a correct estimate for ourselves. This
is the promise. Now mind ; — if he confine himself only to
the more questionable and less creditable parts of Bacon's
history, however candidly he may discuss them — leaving
unnoticed or lost in the background those parts which are
unquestionable and certainly to his honour — I shall not
think that promise fulfilled. If the temptations to which
Bacon yielded are to be made the most of (and I would
have nothing kept back), I must insist on having some
account of those to which he did not yield.

By all means. Here follow four or five jiagos upon the
character of the statesmen of the generation preceding, who
are introduced apparently by way of contrast. Shall I read
them ?

Not for anything I have to say on the subject. T am
not well enough acquainted with them to give r.n opinion.
From what I (!o know indeed, I am not inclined to agree
altogether with ]\Iacaulay. He draws a striking contrast
between those two generations of statesmen : but I do not
think he has taken the points of contrast truly. I'he dif-
ference was not so much, I thijilc, in the men tliemselves as
in the times and the personal character of the sovereigns.
Francis ])acon bears a remarkably strong resemblance to
liis father in character and disposition. His temperannmt, —
the fiery element which fed his genius, — ])robably came
from his mother. And on the other side the character and

EFEyiNOS WITH A REVIEWER. 7

fortunes of Ealeigh and Essex are not without sufficiently
near parallels among the generation of their fathers. But
these matters have little or nothing to do with the sequel.
Therefore let them pass.

Together with the dissertation on female education, I
suppose, which occupies ten pages more.

Yes ; an account of the actual relation between Francis
Bacon and his mother during the first forty years of his life,
would have been more to the purpose. But none of his
biographers have taken any notice of this ; and probably
Tdacaulay did not know that anything was to be known
about it. His conduct both as a son and as a brother during
his early manhood throws much light upon his personal
character, and should certainly be taken along with us as we
follow him through his career. But his mother's skill in
the learned languages has but little bearing on tbe subject ;
therefore you may pass, if you will, to page 12.

Does IMr. IMontagu say nothing about it ?

He gives a long list of eminent men who have had
mothers. But he does not tell us what sort of woman Lady
Ann Bacon was ; or how she Mas writing daily letters to her
sons, full of affection, pride, passion, grief and dissatisfaction ;
interfering in all their affairs, expostulating upon all their
proceedings, quarrelling with all their friends, and treating
them like children who could not take care of themselves : —
a very singular and interesting person, who must have been
extremely difficult to get on with ; the consideration of
whose feelings and infirmities must, I think, have entered
into and modified every act of her sons' lives. But (as 1
said) I have no reason to suppose that the reviewer knew

8 EVEXIXGS WITH A BF.VIEWEn.

anytliing about her more tlian ber reputation for Greek and
Latin. Tberefore I infer notbing from bis silence, except
perbaps tbis, — I do not tlnnk lie can liave felt any intelligent
curiosity about Lacr)n's personal character ; for under a
genuine and earnest desire to understand bis character, so
acute and book-learned a man would hardly have forgotten
to look in that direction for indications of it. But let us
hear how he tells those parts of the story which he /irt.s
looked into.

"Fiancis Bacon, the youngest son of Sir Xicholas, was l)orn
at York House, his father's residence in the Strand, on the 22nd
of January 1561."

You do not dispute that, I suppose ?

loGl according to our way of reckoning. In those days
it was called l.jGO. To avoid confusion, it is always better,
in speaking of times when the civil year was reckoned as
beginning on the 25tli of ^larcb, to give the double date,
loGO-l. But, well ?

" His health was very delicate, and to this circumstance mav
be partly attributed that gravity of carriage and timt love of
sedentary pna-snits which distinguished him from other boys.
Everybody knows how much Ids premature readiness of wit and
sobriety of deportment amused the Queen, and how she used to
call him her young Lord Kee})er."

It is a small matter, hardly worth stopping for, perhaps ;
except that it sliows tlie ki]id of licence these lively writers
indulge in. I confess I sliould have preferred tlie un-
varnished report of Dr. Juiwley (which is the S(jle authoritv
for this circumstance) witliout any pleasant turn given to it
out of the writer's head for tlie entertainment of the reader.

EVENINGS WITH A HE VIE WEB. 9

Dr. Ravvley only says that " the Queen delighted much then
to confer with him and to prove him with questions ; unto
whom he delivered himself with that gravity and maturity
above his years, that Her Majesty w^ould often term him Jier
young Lord Keeperr Who can say from this whether the
Queen questioned him for amusement or from a rational
interest ; whether his gravity was absurd, or only re-
markable ?

Come, come ; confess that he was something of a prig.
One cannot imagine that he was ever a boy with a boy's
heart in him. Look here —

" We are told that while still a mere child, he stole away
from his playfellows to a vault in St. James's Fields, to in-
vestigate the cause of a singular echo which he had observed
there."

Ay, there again ! That comes not from Dr. Rawley, but
from Mr. Montagu. The fact is simply that in his old age
lie described this singular echo, and stated what he (being
then above sixty) conceived to be the cause of it. For the
fact of "stealing from his playfellows," and the purpose
"to investigate the cause," we are indebted solely to Mr.
Montagu. It is purely an inference, and (as it happens)
a very bad inference. There was a brick conduit with a
window in it, leading to a round-house of stone in Avhich
was a rift ; and the phenomenon was, that if you cried out
in the rift it made " a fearful roaring at the window." It
may be probable (though it is not stated) that he made
acquaintance with this fact when he was a child ; but it
must have been in the company of at least one of his
playfellows. For there must clearly have been two, — one
to cry at the rift and the other to listen at the window.
Certainly if I were to draw any inference from his recol-
lection of this echo, it would be that he had been used
when a boy to play there tcith his companions. It must

10 EVFXJXGS WITH A BEYIEWER.

have been a deliglitful place for boys to play in. The
" fearful roaring " is loij, all over. The young Lord Keeper
listening to the fearful roaring would make a pretty picture
in the hands of a good artist. Is there any more of this ?

Not much.

"It is certain that at only twelve he Lusied 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."

Bravo! I did not think he could have capped tlie last.
This again comes from Mr. ]Montagu. But the Edinburgh
reviewer, in compliment I suppose to the Edinburgh pro-
fessor, has a little improved it. Mr. 3Iontagu only says
that " in his twelfth year he was meditating on the laws of
the imagination." His grounds he gives in a foutuoto ; so
that in this instance the reviewer knew what he was talking
about. And what do you think they amount to ? In his
twelfth year (or much earlier, or indeed two or three years
later, for anything we know) Francis Bacon saw at his
father's house a juggler who played tricks with cards. At
some after-time (how long after we have no data whatever
for determining) he met with "a pretended learned man,
that was curious and vain enough " in speculations con-
cerning the imagination, and related to Jiha the tricks which
the juggler had played, and tlic maimer of it in detail ; — •
upon which the learjied num expounded to him an ingenious
theory on the subject: a theory wliich, it is clear from his
manner of telling the story, was at the time quite new to
him; and whicli, "though" (lie adds) "it did somewhat
sink with me, yet I made it lighter than I thought, and
said I thought it was confederacy between the juggler and
the two servants," &&. And this is all. And upon no nuu'c
than this IMr. Montacru tells us that " in his twelfth vcar

EVEXIXGS WITH A BEVIEWER. II

Bacon was ineditating: on tlie laws of the imasrinatiou : "'
and the reviewer announces it " as certain that at only-
twelve he busied himself with very ingenious speculations on
the art of legerdemain." And this with the entire facts of
the case lying legible (though in small print) under his
nose !

Well, but he builds nothing upon this. He goes on —

" These are trifles. But the eminence which Bacon after-
wards attained renders them interesting."

r>.

I do not accuse him of building anything upon it ; nor
of ascribing to these things undue value. I accuse him of
stating them as if they were ascertained facts, when they
are not so much as flying reports. The error, you may say,
is trifling, as the things themselves are trifles. And so it is
in these particular cases. But the habit which it implies
is no trifle. It is a habit of inaccuracy ; of carelessness in
the use of words ; of introducing essential variations into
a story, not only without authority, but without notice ;
possibly without knowing it. And do not ask me to believe
that a man who will do this in trifles upon no provocation,
will not do it in serious things where there is provocation.
If a boy under sixteen watching the tricks of a juggler
is from inadvertency or for effect to be converted into a boy
of twelve busying himself with very ingenious speculations
on an important subject to this day neglected by philo-
sophers, what security have I that a young man modestly
applying for employment shall not be converted into the
great philosopher meanly prostituting his genius and cha-
racter for a place ? You will find as we go on that it is not
in trifles only that the reviewer indulges in this kind of
liberty. Eemembor tliat I do not impute to him wilful
inaccuracy, — I have no doubt he believes all he says, — but
inaccuracy so habitual that it has grown to be unconscious ;
which (in a historian) is a worse thing. I accuse him of a

12 EVEXIXaS WITH A nEYIEWEn.

readiness to believe anything that will heighten the effect of
liis description or sharpen tlie points of his argument.
Now let us see what he niakes of Bacon at Cambrido-e.

" In his tliirtecnth j'car he ■was entered at Trinity College,
Cambridge. That celebrated school of learning cnjwyed the
peculiar favour of the Lord Treasurer and the Lord Keeper," kc.

Here follows an attack on the memory of Whitgift. Have
you any objection to my considering liim, on tlie authority
of the reviewer, as at this time a chrysalis, '• a kind of inter-
mediate grub between sycophant and oppressor " ? I begin
to be prepared to modify my opinions in such matters.

No ; I know nothing about Whitgift, except that some
years after ho took a leading part in measures which Bacon
did not approve. I shall keep my own opinion open until I
know more. You can do as you like.

I think we may as well let him rest for the present.

" It has often been said that Bacon, -whilo still at college,
planned that great intellectual revolution -with Avliieh Ins name
is in.separably connected. I'ho evidence on this t-ubjcct, how-
ever, is hardly sufficient to prove -wdiat is itself so impi-obable, 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 Cambiidge, Bacon de-
parted, carrying ^\•ith him a jn-ofaind contempt for the course of
study pursued tliere ; a fixed conviction that the systems of
academic education in England were radically vicious ; a just
scorn for the trifles on which the followers of Aristotle had
wasted their powers; and no jiivat reverence lor Aii-totle
himself."

All this is certain, is it ? I should like to know where
the evidence is. For if it be true that Bacon felt at sixteen

EVENINGS WITH A liEVlEWEB. i .'J

so luucli profound contempt, just scorn, and fixed conviction,
I must materially alter my conception of liis character. I
know very well that in speaking of the Universities some
fifteen or twenty years after, he pointed out certain grave
errors and defects in the plan of education adopted there ;
also, that he had, some years earlier, come to the conclusion
that the whole system of ijh'dosoiiluj which was taught there
was a progress in the wrong direction. But I know nothing
of the contempt and scorn and spirit of sweeping condem-
nation which is here imputed to him at sixteen. Through-
out his life he spoke of the Universities always with affection
and respect, and treated them accordingly. The impression
under which Macaulay wrote this sentence was suggested,
I suppose, by Mr. ]\[ontagu's account of this period of
Bacon's life ; which is made up by gathering together
everything he ever said about our own Universities, about
the schoolmen of the middle ages, and about knowledge in
general, and supposing that he felt it all while he was there.
What we knoiv of the matter is what Bacon himself told Dr.
Kawley — which goes, by the way, rather to prove the point
which the reviewer rejects as improbable, than those which
he sets down as certain, — to Vfit :

" "Whilst ho -was eommorant at the University (as his Lurd-
jship hath been pleased to impart unto myself) he lirst fell into
the dislike of the philosophy of Aristotle ; — not for the wortli-
lessness of the author, to whom he would ever ascribe all high
attributes, but fur the unfruitfuiness of the way ; being a
philosophy, as his Lordship used to f^ay, only strong- for dis-
putations and contentions, but barren of woiks for the benefit of
the life of man ; in wdiich mind he continued till his dying day,"

And certainly the title Temporis partus maximus, which he
gave to a treatise composed about eight years after ho left
Cambridge, — of which nothing but the title remains, — does
imply something like an idea of the Instauratio 3Iagna, and
a formed plan of the great intellectual revolution which the
reviewer speaks of. And I do not know how it strikes you,
but for my own part I can much more easily believe that he
left the University at sixteen with such a plan in his head,
than in the state of mind imputed to him. — AYell ?

14 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER.

" In his sixteenth year he visited Paris, and resided there for
fouie time under the care of Sir Amias Paiilet, Elizabeth'js
minister at the French court, and one of the ablest and most
upright of the many valuable servants whom she employeil.
France was at that time in a state of deplorable agitation. Tlie
Huguenots and the Catholics were nuistering their forces fur the
fiercest and most protracted of their many struggles ; while the
piince, whose duty it was to protect and 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."

How does he know (I wonder) that he made a tour
through several provinces ? Oh, I see. ^Ir. Montagu says,
that " after the appointment of Sir Amias Paulet's successor,
Bacon travelled into the French provinces, and spent some
time at Poictiers," Well, I will admit that as a sufficient
justification of the statement ; though it happens to be
wroncr. Mr. Montagu knew that Bacon had been at Poictiers
iu his youth, and not knowing when or on what occasion,
supplied the defect by a very fair conjecture. I have no
fault to find with it, considered as a conjecture ; but I object
to the statement of it as a fact. The fact is, tliat the French
court Avas at Poictiers in the autumn of 1577, and Sir Amias
l\iulet (who had been moving about from place to place
during the early part of the summer, that he miglit have an
interview with the king u})on some important and urgent
matters of public l)usiness) remained there as ambassador
from the latter end of July to the latter end of October;
]]acon being no doubt in his suite ; in which he continued
certainly until his fatlier's deatli, sixteen months after :
whether until the appointment of Sir Amias's successor
(Xovember 1st, 1079), \\e do not know.

"We have abundant proof that ibu'ing liis stay on tlie Toii-
tinent he did not neglect literary and scientific juirsui's.''

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 15

Abundant proof? Unless he mean that his early pro-
ficiency is a proof, — and it is certainly a fair presumption, —
I doubt whether we have any proof whatever. Mr. Montagu
talks indeed of his contracting lasting friendships with men
of letters, and making great impressions upon grave states-
men and learned pliilosophers ; but he mentions no name
and quotes no authority.

But you do not deny the fact ?

By no means. The presumption is obvious and most
reasonable ; and I know of nothing whatever to contradict it.
I am myself fully persuaded that he did not neglect literature
or science. But I object to the assertion of it as a fact of
which we have dbundani xyroof, when there is in fact no
proof, but only a natural presumption ; — because I may be
told presently that there is abundant proof of something of
which I am by no means fully persuaded, however presum-
able it may be in the much-presuming eyes of the reviewer.
Please therefore to remember that I checked you here ; for 1
may have occasion, as you go on, to remind you that he is in
the habit of using such words loosely.

Very well, I'll remember. But do let us get on to the
material points.

" But his attention seems to have been chiefly directed to
statistics and dijilomacy. It was at this time that he wrote
those Notes on the State of Europe that are printed in his
works."

I beg your pardon. It is a small matter again, but you
really must let me stop you. Here indeed our reviewer lias
taken some pains to be accurate ; for he has materially
modified the grossly inaccurate statemont of 3Ir. Montagu.

16 L'l'EyJSGS WITH A nEVlEWEL.

Ijiit he has not quite succeeded. It is indeed mo.st probable
that Bacon was at this time collecting tJie materials for those
Notes ; if they are roallv his, whicli is doubtful* P3ut the
composition must have been as hite as ^fay 1582, as may be
known from the allusion to the French levies in aid of ])on
Antonio, who '*' is nov: in France," f It is a small matter as
I said ; but yet it is something to know whether such a
work was composed at nineteen or at two and twenty.

A.
Yes.

" He studied the art of deci])hering with great interest ; and
invented a cipher so ingenious, that many years later he thought
it deserving a place in the Be Augmcntis."

Yes, this (at last) is really correct. 3[r. 3[ontagu talks
less correctly of his " pre]3aring a work upon cyphers, which
he afterwards published." The art of deciphering must
necessarily have attracted his attention ; the most important
diplomatic correspondence being then conducted in cipher.

" In February 1580 " —
79-80, you would have hiui say — ■

Not exactly. It is a good example of the inconvenience
of not preserving the double date. ^Fr. ^lontagu tells us
that Bacon returned to Fngland "instantly," upon the deatli
of his father "on tho 20th of February 1579;" and thou
passes at once to the year 1580. "^riie revi<'\\or, supposing
naturally enougli that he used the old reckoning, reduces it
without inquiry to the mr)dcrn : theroby misdating the fact
a whole year. Sir Ni(dudas ]>acon died on the 20th of
February 1578 9, as you may see either in Stow or Camden.
Francis was then in Paris.

* For my n-a.sons for doubting, see " Letters ami Life of Fr.uicis IJaoin,"
vol. i. pp. 15-17.

t Lans'.l. MSS. 35, f. 13.

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 17

In February 1578-9, then,

" He received intelligence of the almost sudden death of his
father, and instantly returned to England.

" His prospects were greatly overcast by this event. He was
most desirous to obtain a provision which 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 weie moderate ; his hereditary claims upon
the administration were great. Ho had himself been favourably
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 un-
fcuccessful."

Unsuccessful, so far as the p'ovlsion was concerned. But
in other respects the answer to his first application (when he
was in his twentieth year) was surely favourable. The Queen
sent him some message so encouraging that he calls it " an
appropriation of him to her service." * What it was in
particular that he applied for, I cannot clearly make out. I
should guess, however, that it was not for any independent
provision or political appointment (as the reviewer seems to
suppose), but for some employment, or for some advance-
ment with a view to subsequent employment, in the public
service, as a lawyer. Some provision to relieve him from
the ordinary practice of the law may have been included in
his suit, likely enough, though there is no hint of it in the
letter ; but service, and service as a lawyer, seems to be
clearly indicated. " Although " (he says) " it must be con-
fessed that the request is rare and unaccustomed, yet if it bo
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 election, 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

* "Letters and life," vol. i. ji. 1-i.
VOL. 1. C

18 EVENIXOS WITH A HE VIEWER.

survey made, it may be my case may not seem ordinary no
more than my suit, and so more beseeming- unto it." * That
is to say, not many persons in my case ■would betake them
to the study of tlie hiw at all ; therefore if I ask for a favour
out of the common way, remember that my course is out of
the common way ; — an argument in which, had he been
applying to be relieved from the study of the law, there
would have been no sense. If I were myself to hazard a
guess on the subject it would bo this : Bacon had been
admitted de societate magistrorum of Gray's Inn in Juno
1576. As soon as he returned to England and had to work
for his livelihood, he naturally betook himself to the law as
his profession. But his hope and wish was, through his
interest with Burghley and the Queen, to be relieved, by an
early advancement to some place in the Queen's service, not
from the study, hwi from tlio orduianj j^racfice, of the law.
It was an object to him therefore to rise as fast as might bo
through the successive degrees which all lawyers had to
pass, that he might be called as soon as possible within the
bar. His suit therefore at this time was probably for some
facility or dispensation in being called to the bar ; and this,
I take it, was granted ; for he became an iifter barrister in
1582, after only three years' study. Afterwards, in 15SG,
lie appears to have applied (in pursuance of the same object)
for some "ease in being called icithin bars ; "f about which
some difTiciilty was made at the time.i though it was
ultimately granted, as we shall sec probably as we go on.
I do not know in what manner the Queen could help hini
on in the first instance. But if she couhl and did, this
explanation seems to satisfy all the other conditions.

This however is all guess- worlc^ and of no great coii-
sequence. But whatever the first application may have
been for, I can hardly doubt that it was favourably received.
It was made to Bnrghley on the IGth of September 1580 ; §
and on the 18th of the follitwinir mouth it is that he writes

* " I.cticr.s and Life," v(il. i. jt. IIJ. t Il)i'l., vol. i. p. 50.

+ liOtter to Antlioiiy Bacon, Jan. 'I7i, 15'Jl : Uiiil., vol. i. p. I! 18.
^ Ibi.l , vol. i. p. VI.

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 19

again to him, in acknowledgment of "his comfortaLh)
reLation of Her Majesty's gracious opinion and meaning
towards him." Fie writes in the tone of a man who has
received at least as much encouragement as he had. ex-
pected. He speaks of " her benignity being made good
and verified in his father so far forth as it extendeth to his
posterity ; accepting them as commended, by his service
during the non-age of their own deserts." He hopes that
God. will supply the defects of those whom he has inspired
with zeal, and " see them appointed of sufficiency convenient
for the rank and standing- where they shall be employed."
He can promise " for his endeavour that it shall not be in
fault ; but that what diligence can entitle him to, that he
doubts not to recover : " — and " seeing that it hath pleased
Her Majesty to take knowledge of this his mind, and to
vouchsafe to appropriate Mm unio her service, preventing any
desert of his with her princely liberality," (tc. &c.* Now
what can all this mean but that his solicitation (so far) had
been successful ? It is not a letter of formal acknowledg-
ment, but evidently written out of the fulness of his heart, —
a modest and bashful heart, overflowing and apparently a
little fluttered with encouragement. And we hear nothing-
further in the way either of solicitation or acknowledgment
for the next six years.

You may think that tlie mistake (if it be one) is trifling.
I am not sure of that. Every man's career does in fact
depend upon the manner in which his prospects open. And
besides, you will see as you go on that upon this supposed
rebuff of a supposed application some serious insinuations
against the character both of Bacon, and of Burghley, and
of the Queen, do in fact rest.

But you stopped me in the middle of a long paragraph.
Let us hear what more the reviewer has to say before wo
decide upon this point.

" The truth is that the Cecils disliked liim, and did all that
they decently could to keep hiui down."

* " Letters and Life," vol. i. p. 14,

20 EVENINGS WITH A RE VIE WEB.

I suppose you will ask for proof of this ; for your story
does not seem to imply any want of assistance, on the part
of Burghley at least. And Robert Cecil must have been
still a boy.

Kobert Cecil was about seventeen, and of course could
have nothing to do with the matter. Of Burghley's be-
haviour all we know is, that Bacon's application had been
made through him, and through him the encouraging
answer had been received ; which does not to me look like
disliking or keeping down. I admit however that the charge
is not of Macaulay's invention, but has some support from
respectable contemporary authority, though I cannot make
out that there is much colour for it ; and what colour there
is belongs to a much later period, which, as involving new
circumstances, should be considered separately. For the
present, therefore, we had better not enter into the question.
Only you are to bear in mind that Bacon is not yet twenty ;
that Burghley has not yet shown any disposition to keep
him down ; and that whether he ever did, is a question
which remains to be proved.

Very well. I ^^ill bear in mind anything that is reason-
able.

" It has never been alleg('d that Bacon had done anytliiug to
merit this dislike. Xor is it at all jirobablc that a man whcse
temper was naturally mild, whoso manners were courteous, who
tluoiigli life niirsed his fortunes with the utmost care, wlio was
fearful even to a fault of oirniiling the powerful, would h;tve
given any just cause of displeasure to a kinsman who had the
means of rendering him essential service and of doing hiiu
irreparable injury."

All this speculation belongs of course to the general
question whether any such supposed dislike existed, and
may be put off till we come to consider that. But I may as

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 21

well warn you in the mean time tliat I do not admit tliis as
a true account of Bacon's character. " Mild " is not the word
by which I should describe his temper ; at least, it requires
a good deal of qualification. His temper was very quick
and sensitive. His mildness was the effect of the sweetness,
thoughtfulness, nobleness, and modesty of his nature, — his
sense of justice, and his self-command. Neither can I allow
that he was a good nurser of his fortunes, otherwise than
through a cultivation of his faculties so assiduous and
effectual, that fortune could make him no offer which he was
not qualified by merit, capacity, and preparation, to accept.
But I suppose there was never any man who got so little in
proportion to what he gave ; and why ? Because he did not
understand lioitj to make bargains with fortune ? No : but
from the necessity of a noble nature, which will not stoop to
chaffer and take advantages. He could not but know that
the way to get on in the world is, first by giving a taste of
your services to make their value understood, and then, by
holding them back, to make the want of them felt. But the...
principle upon whicli through his whole life he acted was the
reverse. He always began by giving all he had to give,
leaving the recompense to be settled afterwards by those who
had already received the value. The consequence of which
was, that during the best years of his life the government
had the use of his best services for nothing. He was more
than forty-six years old before he even obtained any lucrative
office ; and I think (if we except a pension of 60/. \^•hich
King James gave him when he was forty-three, and the
clerkship of the Star-chamber which fell to him when he
was about fifty, and which he held for five or six years) he
was at least fifty-eight before he received sixpence from the
government (and he did not ask for it then) beyond the
ordinary salaries and fees of the very laborious places in
which he served.*

However, these are points upon which pco25lo may

* I did not then know that in Angi5st IGOl, he received (out of the fine
imposed on Catesby for his share in the Earl of Es-sex'n cons-piracy) 1800Z.
See " Letters and Life," vol. iii. p. 11.

22 EVENINOS WITH A REVIEWER.

reasonably differ. And in the mean time I quite agree that
he is very unlikely to have given just cause of offence to
Burghley or any one else. AVhat next ?

" The real explanation, wo have no donht, is this : liobert
Cecil, the Treasurer's second f^on, -was younger hy a few months
than Bacon."

Younger by two years and a half, nearly, if we may trust
Sir Theodore 3[ayerne, who has recorded botli tlie day and
the hour at which he was born.

"He had been educated with the utmost care; had been
initiated, whilst still a boy, in the mysteries of diplomacy and
court intrigue ; and was just at tins time about to be produced on
the stage of public life."

15.

Ju4 at this time ? And what time was this ?

Oh, — when Bacon made his application, I siip})Oso.

That was in September 1.">S0, when liobert Cecil was
only seventeen years and three montiis old.

AVcll, never mind. Bacon's apjdications continued no
doubt till liobert was old enough. He does not mean tliat
Burghley rci'nsed Bacon once for all, but that he continued
to neglect him.

" The wish nearest to Burgliley's licart Avas tliat his own
greatness might descend to this fivourite cliilil. P.iit even
Burghley's fatlierly partiality could hardly pievent him IVom

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 23

perceiving that Eobert, with all his abilities and acqniiemonts,
was no match for his cousin Francis. This seems to its the only-
rational explanation of the Treasurer's conduct. Mr. Montagu
is more charitable. lie supposes that Burghley was influenced
merely by alFection for his nephew ; and was ' little disposed to
encourage him to rely^ on others rather than himself, and to
venture on the quicksands of politics instead of the certain
profession of the law.' If such were Burghley's feelings, it
seems strange that he should have suffered his son to venture
on those quicksands froin which he so carefully preserved his
neiDhew."

That is one among many of Mr. Montagu's suggestions
in which I do not concur ; therefore it is not worth while to
question the validity of the argument. But I hope you do
not think it conclusive, or see anything strange in a man
thinking that of two young men, very unlike each other
though both of rare ability, one will do better in law, the
other in politics. As it turned out indeed, the judgment
would have been abundantly justified. To tread the "quick-
sands of politics " was precisely what Eobert Cecil was made
for ; whereas Bacon, though under a sovereign that under-
stood his value he would have made the greatest of all prime
ministers, was ill qualified to worlv his way up through a
court.

That is a new doctrine, is it not ?

A strange one perhaps, like ail true doctrine about
Bacon, to these times. ISTot the less sound though. Whtj he
was ill qualified it would be hopeless to explain now, when
his writings are so little read and his character so totally
misunderstood ; and it will be needless to explain hereafter,
if his life should ever come to be studied ; — for the explana-
tion will suggest itself. However, we have yet (you know) to
prove that Burghley did not do his best to advance Bacon
in the course which Bacon himself wished.

24 EVEXIXGS WITH A BEVIEWER.

Yes. And here, I tbink, wo have it.

"But the truth is, that if Burghley had heen so disposed lie
might easily have secured Bacon a comfortable provision which
would have been exposed to no risk."

What do you say to that ?

In the first phice, I say, How do wo know that ?
Burghley, though the most powerful man in council, was
not omnipotent. Elizabeth was mistress, and took good
care that her counsellors should know it. And it is noto-
rious that in matters of this kind she was anything but
manageable. Moreover she was nat profuse of gifts (except
occasionally to personal favourites), and was always better
pleased (partly out of policy perhaps, partly out of economy,
and partly out of pride) to see her servants in hope and
appetite for favours to come, than grateful and independent.
}Miat could Burghley have got for Bacon, and ivlten ?

In tlie second place, I ask— If Burghley could have pro-
cured him a comfortable provision exposed to no risk (which
I doubt), and if he did want to get him out of Piobert Cecil's
way (which there is no reason for believing), why did he not
do it at once ? By not providing for him he left him in the
way.

No. By forcing Bacon into the law ho threw him into a
different line of competition.

And by providing for him in that lino ho would have
kept him in it. But by leaving him in a condition (for you
have no right to say that ho forced him into it) which,
without diminishing cither his necessities or his preiorcncH^
for political life, constrained him to add to liis otlior
fjualifications those of a trained and gi'Muiiilod hiwvor, -

EVENINGS WITH A HE VIE WEB. io

what did ho do but make him a more formidable rival than
before ?

There is something in that, I confess. But here is more.

" And it is equally certain that lie showed as little dis-
position to enable his nephew to live by a profession as to
enable him to live without a profession."

Alluding, I suppose, to the period when the places of
attorney and solicitor-general were vacant. That was not
till 1593, twelve years and more after the time we have
hitherto been talking of. At least I am not aware that
before that time Burghley had omitted any opportunity of
advancing Bacon in his profession. IMany things may hap-
pen in twelve years, and therefore we had better leave the
discussion of his conduct on that occasion till we approach
nearer to it. In the mean time you will understand that
I do not admit that he acted an unfriendly part even then.

But what do you say to Bacon's own testimony on the
subject ? Listen.

" That Bacon himself attributed the conduct of his rela-
tives to jealousy of his superior talents we have not the smallest
doubt. In a letter written many years after to Yilliers, 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.' "

Well, I dare say the censure was just in the general
case ; but it says nothing about his own in particular. If it
Avas true of himself only, it was untrue as a general charge.
If it was true of others, why suppose that he was thinking
of himself ?— I say to you now that the system of our own

2G E VEXING 8 WITH A nEVlEWEB,

public service at this day is Lad, because it offers no ade-
quate reward for industry and ability : do I therefore say
that any industry or ability of my own has been thrown
away upon the public ? f^urely no man who has room in
his soul for anythiiii^ besides himself will so interpret me.
I believe there is not a single sentence on record in which
Bacon betrays so much as a passing suspicion that Burglileij
wished to keep him down ; and I am sure there are several
in which he gratefully and affectionately acknowledges his
orood offices in endeav^nirinij to advance liim.

I understood you to say that there was contemporary
authority for the charge against the Cecils,

Not against Burghley, that I know of. I was thinking
of what Dr. Eawley says of " the arts and policy of a great
statesman then, wdio laboured by all underhand and secret
means to suppress and keep him down, lest if lie had risen
he might have obscured his glory." The allusion I think
is not to Burghley, but to Piobcrt Cecil, and as against him
I dare say the imputation is just. It was certainly an
impression current among Bacon's friends at the time, and
shared more or less by Bacon himself. I see, indeed, that
J\[r. Payne Collier,* on the authority of Cecil's correspond-
ence preserved at Bridgewater House, discredits it. And
there were times no doubt when ho showed himself really
friendly. But Robert Cecil was a great artist in dissembling
and double-dealing. He had just the constitution for
it ; — " Temj^er amentum calidum, siceum, hUiosum ; Cerebrum
frigidissimum, ]tHmidissim>nu." t- -But go o]i.

" Wliatovcr Biirghley's motives might be, his purpose was
unalterable. The supplications ^vhicll Francis addressed to liis
uncle and aunt wcro earnest, Inimblc, and almost servile."

* I'^gortoii Paperr^ (Camden Sociciy).
t Sir Theodore Mayerne'a IMeinorunda.

EVFNINOS WITH A 11 E VIE WEIL li

"His uncle and aunt.'" We are still then in September
1580 ; Francis not yet twenty. There is no letter to his
aunt later than that. The other letters to Burghley we
shall hear more of, and I shall have something to say about
them. In the mean time I wish you to mark that word
" servile ; " because the reviewer's notions of servility arc
peculiar, and very necessary to be understood by those who
AYould understand the true value of those epithets, from the
thick laying-on of which his reasoning sometimes acquires
an ajDpearance of force. Will you read those two letters,
and tell me what one expression in either of them deserves
any worse epithet than modest, respectful, and affectionate ?
You will find them in Volume xii.* there, with the red back,
page 471.

How old was Burghley at this time ?

Sixty. He had been Elizabeth's principal counsellor for
twenty-two years.

And Bacon not yet twenty ? — Here it is.

" To my Lady Burghley.
" My singular good Lady, — I was as ready to show
myself mindful of my duty by waiting on your Ladyship at
your being in town, as now by my writing ; had I not feared
that your Ladyship's short stay and quick return might well
spare one that came of no earnest errand. I am not yet
greatly perfect in ceremonies of court, whereof I know your
Ladyship knowoth both the right use and true value. IMy
thankful and serviceable mind shall be always like itself,
howsoever it vary from the common disguising. Your
Ladyship is wise and of good nature to discern from what
* Monta";u's Edition,

28 EVENINGS WITH A EE VIE WEI!.

iiiiiitl every action proceedetli, and to esteem of it accord-
ingly. This is all tlie message wliicli my letter liatli at this
time to deliver; imless it please your Ladyship further to
give me leave to make this request unto you ; that it would
please your good Ladyship, in your letters wherewith you
visit my good Lord, to vouchsafe the mention and recom-
mendation of my suit ; wherein your Ladyship shall bind
me more to you than I can look ever to be able sufficiently
to acknowledge. Thus in humble manner I take my leave
of your Ladyship, committing you as daily in my prayers,
so likewise at this present, to the merciful providence of the
Almighty. From Gray's Inn, this IGth of September 15S0.
Your Ladyship's most dutiful and bounden nephew, B.
Fra."

So much for my Lady. Now for my Lord.

"To Lord Burghley, to recommend him to the Queen.
" ]My singular good Lord,— My humble duty remembered,
and my humble thanks presented for your Lordship's favour
and countenance, which it pleased your Lordship at mr
being with you to vouchsafe me above my degree and desert ;
my letter hath no further errand but to commend unto your
Lordship the remembrance of my suit, which I then moved
unto you ; whereof it also pleased your Lordship to give me
good hearing so far forth as to promiso to tender it unto her
]\rajesty ; — and withal to add in the belialf of it that whicli
I may better deliver by letter than by speech ; which is,
that, althougli it must bo confessed that the request is rare
and unaccustomed, yet if it bo observed how few there be
which fall in with the study of the Common Laws,either being
well lel't or friended, or at their own free election, or forsaking
likely success in otlier studies of more deliglit and no less
preferment, or setting hand thereunto early, without wast(3
of years, — upon such survey made, it may be my case may
not seem ordinarv, no more tlian mv suit,- and so moi'i- be-

EVLMSGS WITH A It E VIEWER. 20

seeming imto it. As I force myself to say this in excuse of
my motion, lest it should seem altogether imdiscreet and
unadvised, so my hope to obtain it resteth upon your Lord-
ship's good affection towards me and grace with her Majesty ;
who methinks needeth never to call for the experience of the
thing, where she hath so great and so good of the person
which recommendeth it. According to which trust of mine,
if it may please your Lordship both herein and elsewhere to
be my patron, and to make account of me as one in whose
A\ ell-doing your Lordship hath interest, — albeit indeed your
Lordship hath had place to benefit many, and wisdom to
make due choice of lighting-places for your goodness, — yet
do I not fear any of your Lordship's former experiences for
staying my thankfulness borne in heart, howsoever God's
good pleasure shall enable mo or disable me outwardly to

make proof thereof " •

Stay, I don't understand that last sentence.

No. There is something wrong in the text. The letter
is preserved only in a copy, and some words have most likely
dropped out. The meaning must have been — Though your
goodness has lighted upon many worthy subjects, it has not
lighted upon one more truly thankful than I shall prove so
far as I may have opportunity,

Yes, I see. — " For I cannot account your Lordship's
service distinct from that which I owe to God and my
prince ; the performance whereof to best proof and purpose
is the meeting-place and rendezvous of all my thoughts.
Thus I take my leave of your Lordship in humble manner,
committing you as daily in my prayers, so likewise at this
present, to the merciful protection of the Almighty. From
Gray's Inn, this 16th of ►September 1580. Your most
dutiful and bounden nephew, L. FiiA."

Well, I expected something worse than this, I confess.
To be sure it is not the kind of letter that the reviewer him-

30 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER.

self would have written in such a case. I suppose lie cannot
well imagine a youth of so great talents really feding so
much deference for mere age and dignity ; therefore looks
on it as false and affected, — a sacrifice of self-respect to the
desire of self-advancement. I don't say that I think the
supposition a fair one in this instance ; but if I did — if I
took the same view of it as I dare say he does — I should not
object to his calling it " servile." I do not think ho meant to
misrepresent the character of the letter. I can well believe
that he really felt some scorn to see a young philosopher
taking off his hat to an old uncle.

I do not dispute that. I only wish you to bear in mind
that his description of these letters made you expect some-
thing very different from what you find. I can easily be-
lieve that he felt what you describe ; but what are the
opinions of a man good for who docs feel so ?

They should, perhaps, bo taken with some little
allowance.— By the by, why docs Bacon sign himself B. Fra. !

I cannot guess. These, and another dated 18th October,
are the only instances I have met with. Tlio letters are all
transcripts, and transcribed in the same hand ; — some fancy
of the transcriber, I suppose. Tlie full name, Fra. Bacon, is
given in the docket, and they are no doubt his composition.

AVcU ; I agree to drop the "almost servile," and sub-
stitute "modest."

"The sup}»llcations " — ["that, by tlio way, is a .strongor
word than the (^ecasion calls for; but never 111111(1" — ''which
Francis addressed to his uncle and anut were earnest, Inimblc,
and modest, lie was the most pronii>ing and accomplished
young man of his time. His father liad been the brothcr-in-hiw,

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 31

tlio most useful colleagiie, 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 laboured
there in obscurity."

Do you admit any of this to be correct ? For I will at
once grant you that there is a good deal in it which is not
correct.

Yes, I admit that he was a very promising young man,
with hereditary claims upon Burghley's favour. How large
and how sure the promise appeared in the eyes of tlie elderly
statesmen of the day, while it was yet only in blossom, it
would not perhaps be very easy to determine. Elderly
statesmen are apt to be cautious in their judgments of
youthful promise ; especially of youths who start with an
announcement that their elders and teachers are all in the
wrong. Xeither would I undertake to say that even in the
most discerning eyes Francis Bacon's promise of abilities for
active service must have been greater than that of some
others — Philip Sidney, for instance, or Walter Ealeigh.
Therefore had Burghley only held back that he might prove
him before he used him, I do not see that he could be
reasonably blamed. But I dispute the assertion that
Burghley did hold back. I deny that Burghley's back-
wardness had anything to do with his admission at Cray's
Inn. It was his father, not Burghley, who caused him to be
. admitted there. I deny that he betook himself to the study
of the law against his will : for it is clear from the terms of
his first application to Burghley, which you have just read,
that he had already begun, and meant to go on with the
study of the Common Law ; however he miglit hope to bo
relieved at an early period from practising it for his liveli-
hood. I deny that his claims on Burghley "availed liim
nothing ; " for I am inclined to believe (for reasons which I
will tell you presently) that he enjoyed through Burghley's
influence some important dispensations and exemptions.

32 j-vuxixas with a heviewer.

wliich hastened his career through Gray's Iim. And Inially
I deny that " he hiboured some years there in obscin-itu ; "
because his rise was unusually rapid.

But I think we have done enough for one evening. AVo
have scarcely got to Bacon himself yet. We are now ap-
proaching the period of his life of which we know something,
and had better enter upon it as upon a fresh chapter ; which
we will open if you please to-morrow. In the mean time I
think you will do well to look through what you have read
to-day, substituting as you go correct expressions for what
you find incorrect, and then see how much remains. It is
an exercise I shall frequently have to propose to you, and
will throw great light upon this subject.

I am afraid the residue will taste rather flat.

By which you will learn how much was only fixed air.
If I had to decide wliat should bo done to the reviewer for
writing this article, I would require nothing worse of him
than that he should perform that oflice himself; discarding
every sentence, epithet, expression, and assertion Mhich he
could not justify; putting "J" instead of " Jl'e," but with-
out otherwise altering the form ; and then print it with his
name. It would look as forlorn as a plucked peacock,
strutting and shouting without a tail to spread.

rj] do it.

EVENING THE SECOND.

Well, I have tried to correct and expurgate what we read
yesterday ; but I find it will not bear the process. By dis-
carding epithets and superlatives and qualifying round
statements, you not only diminish the force and liveliness
of the composition, but destroy its logical coherency.

But we are only in the fifteenth page, and we have fifty
more to get through before we come to the Philosophy ; and
(to judge by the marginalia which I see before me) our pro-
gress is not likely to be more rapid. Therefore if you please
we will wander as little as possible from the text.

Very well. I will not stop you to make comments of
my own ; but only to dispute statements of fact, and in-
ferences which, if undisputed, are in danger of taking place
■ as facts.

We left " poor Francis " labouring in obscurity (if we
are to believe . the last paragraph), — rising very rapidly
into business and distinction (if we are to believe the next)
— at Gray's Inn. W^e are now to hear what kind of lawyer
he makes.

" What the extent of his legal attainments may have been,
it is difficult to nay. It was not hard for a man of his powers
VOL. I. D

34 i:vEmxGS with a eeviewer.

to acquire that very moderate portion of teclmical knowledge
which, when joined to quickness, tact, wit, ingenuity, eloquence,
and knowledge of the Avorld, is sufficient to raise an advocate
to the highest professional eminence. The general opinion
api)ears to have heen that which was on one occasion expressed
by Elizabeth. ' Bacon ' (said she) ' had a great wit and much
learning ; but in law showeth to the uttermost of his knowledge,
and is not deep.' The Cecils, avc suspect, did their best to spread
this ojDinion by whispers and insinuations. Coke openly pro-
claimed it with that rancorous insolence which was habitxial
to him. Ko reports are more readily believed than those which
dispiarage genius and soothe the enmity of conscious mediocrit}-.
It must have been inexpressibly consoling to a stupid serjeant
— the forerunner of him who 150 years later ' shook his head
at Murray as a wit ' — to know that the most profound thinker
and the most accomplished orator of his age was very im-
perfectly acquainted with the law touching bastard eigne and
mulier puisne, and confounded the right of free fishery with that
of common piscary.

" It is cevtain that no man in that age, or indeed during the
centurj' and a half which followed, was better acquainted with
the philosophy of law. His technical knowledge was quite
sufficient, with the help of his admirable talents and his in-
sinuating address, to procure clients. lie rose very rapidly into
business, and soon entertained ho})es of being called within the
bar. lie a2:)plicd "

Stop a moment. Now wluit do you collect from all this
to be Macaulay's opinion of Bacon's attainments as a lawyer ?

As a i)ractical lawyer ? It is clear enoti^-h, is it not ?
lie thinks tlint he was supcriicial, and apt, perhaps, to make
blunders; but tliat nevertheless lie had as much law as a
gentleman and a i)hil(iso}/her could want, — that is, as mucli
as was necessary to gain clients. To judge from the tone of
the paragra])li, \ should say he thinks rather the better of
him for not knowing;' iiKU'e.

EVENINGS WITH A HE VIEW Ell. 35

In short, that the opinion which the Cecils di'l their
best to spread by whispers and insinuations was in fact the
truth. If so, does it not strike yoa as rather hard upon
them that they shoukl be censured for spreading it, as if
their only motive had been jealousy ?

Certainly it would appear to have been their best justifi-
cation, if it was so. For the Queen's service required, no
doubt, real learning and practical skill, not philosophy and
plausibility only. But was it so ? Bacon surely was not
the sort of man to be contented with superficial knowledge
and plausibilities in anything that he had to deal with.

The last man in the world. And therefore (though I
can easily believe that his head was not a library of law^-
cases, as Coke's was, and that on that account Coke very
honestly despised him), I should be slow to think that he
was apt to confound any two things that w^ere distinct, or
that he was superficially acquainted with the law in any
case which he was prepared to argue. I have not seen it
stated that he ever gave an opinion on a point of law which
was wrong, or ever attempted anything in his profession
whicli he did not perform excellently well. His writings on
legal subjects it is not fair to form a judgment by. They
-were none of them published by himself. They are all, or
almost all, fragments, and very incorrectly printed ; and yet
they are so good that some learned judge has recorded his
regret for the waste of such a mind upon other studies. This
however is a point upon which it would be absurd in me to
attempt to form an o})inion of my own. Only until I hear
of an instance in which his want of technical knowledge
betrayed him into an error, I shall believe that he was a
good technical lawyer.

But it was not for this that I stopped you here. I

36 EVEXIXGS Willi A REVIEWEll.

Avished only to remind you that when you hear a little
further on (or a little further back) the Cecils censured as
backbiters because they told the Queen that he was not a
deep and sound practical lawyer, but great only in specu-
lation ; — the Queen censured for injustice so gross as to
cancel all obligations because she did not make him one of
her principal law-ofiicers when he was only thirty-three ; —
and himself censured for servility because he did not, in
resentment of that neglect, plunge himself into the faction
and fortunes of a dangerous malcontent and rebel, but con-
tinued faithful to his original trust ; — you are to remember
that the Cecils said no more against him than the reviewer
now says, — that the Queen slighted no claims but such as
the reviewer now believes he did not possess, — and that
Bacon had nothing to resent except tlie not being advanced
to an ofSce for which (if the reviewer's opinion be correct)
he was not eminently qualified. — 3Iind, I do not myself
agree that it was so. I cannot but believe tliat Bacon was,
by professional as well as by all other accomplishments,
eminently qualified for the highest offices ; and that the
Queen did herself no good service when she made Coke her
attorney-general instead of him. But I can well believe
that this was not the opinion of the world ; for when did the
world ever believe a man to be good at his own trade wlio
had shown that he was good for anything else ? ^Vhy
should we suppose that Burghley and Cecil did not think
as the world thought ? And how should the C^ueen know-
better than they ?

Surely. I suppose that (uow-a-days at least) the repu-
tation of a Temporis partus maxiuLUs at twcntv-four would be
quite fatal to the prospects of a lawyer, thougli he liad law
accumulating in liis head enougli to furnish fV)rtli another
" Coke upon Littleton." The attorneys would certainly be
shy. And even wlien recommending him to tlie Prime
IMiuister for a commissionershi[i. a judicious friend would
keep the progress of the IiiMaurailo Magna in the buck-

EVENJNGS WITH A BEVIEWER. 37

ground. — Yes ; I can make allowance for the Cecils and the
Queen. And if our young friend Francis can also make
allowance for them and hold on his course unaltered, I shall
think the better of him and not the worse.

Th«n you will find yourself vf5ry much out with your
favourite reviewer.

We shall see.

" He rose very rapidly into business, and soon entertained
hopes of being called within the bar. He applied to Lord
Burgliley for that purpose, but received a testy refusal. Of the
grounds of that refusal we can in some measure judge from
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 oj^portunity of marking his dis-
like of the showy quick-witted young men of the rising genera-
tion, took this ojoportunity to read Francis a very sharp lecture
on his vanity and want of respect for his betters. Francis
returned a most submissive reply, thanked the Treasurer for the
admonition, and promised to profit by it."

Let me see. By this we are meant to understand that
Francis showed some want of spirit in not telling his old
uncle to make him a better answer. Was Burghley's
rebuke so very unreasonable ?

That I really cannot pretend to say. The admonition
does not appear to have been conveyed in a letter, but in a
conversation ; and we know nothing of the terms or spirit of
it, any more than of the grounds, except as we may infer
them from the terms and spirit of the letter which Francis
wrote, after reflecting (I suppose) upon what Burghley had
said. Burghley, it seems, had heard some insinuations to
the disadvantage of Bacon, of which he thought it right to
inform him; and in so doing he alluded to his recent appli-
cation as in some degree bearing them out. But Bacon's

38 EVEXIXaS WITH A EEVIEWEn.

letter is not long. "We had better read it ; and then you
■will know all that the reviewer knew of the matter, and can
judge for yourself. It is worth while to do it now ; because
we shall meet with more than one sweeping clause in whicli
Bacon's habitual demeanour to his patrons is touched on in
passing as if it were notorious ; the fact on which tlie de-
scription is founded being contained in this letter. Here it
is — 6th of ^fay 1580 — Bacon being, as you will remember,
only twenty-five years and three months old.

" ]\ry very good Lord, — I take it as an undoubted sign of
your Lordship's favour unto me, that being hardly informed
of me, you took occasion rather of good advice than of evil
opinion thereby ; which if your Lordship had grounded
only upon the said information of theirs, I might and would
truly have upholden that few of the matters were justly
objected ; as the very circumstances do induce, — in that
they were delivered by men who did misaffect mo, and
besides were to give colour to their own doings. But because
your Lordship did mingle therewith b(jth a late motion of
mine own, and somewhat that you had otherwise heard, I
know it to be my duty (and so do I stand affected) ratlier to
prove your Lordship's admonition effectual in my doings
hereafter, than causeless by excusing what is past. And yet
(with your Lordship's pardon humbly asked) it may please
you to remember that I did endeavour to set forth that said
motion in such sort as it might breed no harder effect than a
denial. And I protest simply before God tliat I souglit
therein an ease in coming witliin Bars, and not any extra-
ordinary or singular note of favour.

" And for that your Lordship may otherwise have heard
of me, it sliall make me more wary and circumspect in
carriage of myself. Indeed I find in my simple observation
that they who live as it were in umlrd and not in public or
frequent acti(jn, how modcn-ately and modestly soever they
behave themselves, yet lahorcuit inr'idid. I find also that
such persons as are of nature bashful (as mysidf is), wliereby
they want that plausible familiarity whicli otliers have, are
often mistaken for proud. But once I know well, and I

J^VENINGS WITH A BEVIEWEn. .10

most ImmLly beseech your Lordship to believe, that ar-
rog-ancy and overweening is so far from my nature, as if I
think well of myself in anything it is in this, that I am free
from that vice. And I hope upon this your Lordship's
speech I have entered into those considerations as my be-
haviour shall no more deliver me f()r other than I am.

" And so wishing unto your Lordship all honour and to
myself continuance of your good opinion with mind and
means to deserve it, I humbly take my leave. Gray's Inn,
this 6th of May 1586. Your Lordship's most bounden
nephew, Fr. Bacox."

Is that all ?

B.
Every word.

And is nothing more known of the matter or manner of
Burghley's speech ?

But for this letter we should not have known that any
such application had been either made or refused, — any such
admonition either needed or given.

TJien the iesfiness of the refusal ; the sharpness of the
lecture ; the imputation of w^ant of respect for his belters ,-
are all out of the reviewer's own head ?

All. For you see tlie offence was not any want of
respectfulness in his demeanour towards Burghley himself,
or any of that generation ; but apparently an overweening
estimate of his own pretensions and abilities, as compared
with the men of his own generation. These persons who
" did misaifect him " were most likely his competitors for
advancement and favour ; who thought him a conceited
young fellow, and wished to lower him in Burghley's opinion.

40 EVEXixas wirn a beviewer.

For anything I can gntlier from this letter, Buvghloy's
admonition may have been the kindest thing possible in
itself, and done in the kindest manner. Even the fact that
Bacon's application had been refused is not certain. For we
do not know exactly what it was that he asked for ; or
whether it was a thing that could be done immediately.
And we do happen to know that Bacon was ultimately
(though I cannot make out exactly at what time) admitted
within the bar in some unusual manner.

Well, I was right to stop. I wonder if all history is
written in this way.

" Strangers meanwhile were less iinjuet to the young barrister
than his nearest kinsmen had been."

YAvi'&men.^ — meaning, I suppose, J3urghley and Kobert
Cecil ; — Burghley, whose injustice to him had consisted at
the very worst in not procuring him an independent provision
when he was twenty, and not getting him called within the
bar at twenty-five ;— Cecil, Avho was as yet only twenty-
three, and cannot be supposed to have had any influence
independent of Burghlev. — Well ; what did the strangers
do ?

" In his twenty-sixth year he became a Bencher of his Inn :
and two years after he was appointed Lent Keader."

True. But he had also received other distinctions of a
special character, with which it seems probable that Burgh-
ley had somctliing to do, though I cannot positively allirin
it. There is preserved among the Bansdowne ]\ISS. an
extract from the Gray's Inn Register, with some memoranda
upon it in Burghley 's hand. The memoranda are written
short, after Burghley's fashion, and not very legibly ; so that

EVENTNOS WITH A EEVTEWKR. 41

1 cannot be sure of all the words. But it is plain that they
are an enumeration of certain special distinctions enjoyed by
Francis Bacon at Gray's Inn. It seems that he was admitted
*' of the Grand Company " in some unusual manner so as to
give him an advantage over others in point of standing :
" whereby " (writes Burghley) " he hath won ancienty of 40."
It also appears that he became an " Utter Barrister upon 3
years' study " — (I suppose unusually early) ; — that some of
the regulations respecting attendance in Commons had been
specially set aside in his favour ; and finally that he was
specially admitted to have place at the Keader's table on
the 10th of February 1580, two years before he was himself
a Reader. These memoranda being unquestionably in
Burghley's hand, the natural inference is that Burghley had
something to do with these distinctions and exemptions.
But, however that be, they are enough to show that, through
the influence either of his kinsmen or of strangers, Francis's
interests had not hitherto been neglected. And he is now
entering on his twenty-seventh year. — Go on.

" At length, in 1590, he received for the first time show of
favour from the court. He was sworn in Queen's Counsel ex-
traordinary. But this mark of honour was not accompanied
with any pccixniary emolument."

This is the date assigned by Mr. Montagu, — I do not
know on what authority. Some one else says 1588. Dr.
Rawley only says " after a while." The fact I believe to be
that he was employed by the Queen's command in business
belonging properly to members of the Learned Counsel,
without any regular appointment either by patent or in
writing. But this was some years later. I have not yet
found any ground for fixing the exact date. Moreover he
was not sworn. But how can it be said that he had not
received sJiow of favour from the court before ? He had had
the privilege of access to the Queen all this time ; which,

42 FVEXTXGS WITH A HE VIEWER.

coming from Queen ElizaLctb, and being generally upon
business of state, was no small sJioiv of favour. AVhat he
had not received was money.

" He continued therefore to solicit his powerful relatives for
some provision which miglit enahle him to live without drudg-
ing at his profession. He bore with a patience and serenity
which we fear bordered on meanness, the morose humours of his
uncle and the sneering reflections wdiich his cousin cast on
speculative men lost in philosophical reveries and too wise to be
cajiable of transacting public business."

Is it worth while to stop yon here that you may take in
the full light which this sentence reflects on the character,
not of Bacon, but of the reviewer ?

If you allude to the word " meanness " as characterising
the letter you read just now, I noted that. And it is not
more than I was prepared for, though much more than I can
assent to. I told you he seemed to think Francis wanting
in spirit for not making a sturdier answer.

Yes. But that might bo from misunderstanding the
occasion and spirit of the letter. There is something more
implied here. Hero \\c get some light (and we shall get a
good deal more presently) as to his iirincii~)les of moral ap-
probation and disapprobation. Take the fact exactly as ho
understands it. Suppose Burghloy to have been " morose,"
and Francis to have been '"' patient and serene," AVhat
follows ? " Pafienee" aiul " serenltj'' shown by a nephew of
twenty-six in bearing the mtjrosc humours of an uncle of
sixty — (jf an uncle wliom lie had been brought up to revero
— a man full of yoars and honours— the most eminent man
in the kingdom — his dead father's nearest friend and col-
league— the husband of his living mother's own sister, — a

EVENINGS WTTTI A liEVTEWEIi. i'A

man, too, ^^■llose very moroseness was tlie effect of age and
sickness : — iMtience and serenity border on meanness !

A thing to be remembered, I confess. I am afraid onr
friend has not a clear notion of the difference between
magnanimity and magniloquence, and judges of the great-
ness of a man's heart by the bigness of his words.

But I am not so well satisfied about that joung Robert.
"With him, I think Bacon might have been angry and sinned
not.

"Why, so he was. The particular expressions indeed
which are here put into Robert's mouth, it would not be
fair to charge him with. Mr. Montagu thinks he has seen
them somewhere, but cannot remember where. But Bacon
certainly did once suspect him of having put the w'ord
speculation into the Queen's ear in a disparaging sense, and
otherwise to have been working underhand against him ;
how truly I cannot say ; and what then ? His patience and
serenity quite failed him, and he was betrayed on the
moment into a tone of unreasonable irritation and almost
petulant remonstrance, which the reviewer might probably
think fine, but which in my opinion (and I think in his
own upon reflexion) it was easier to excuse than to justify.
And yet I am glad the record remains ; for it shows how
keenly he could feel an injury, and how much his habitual
serenity and patience were owing, not to want of sensibility,
but to self-controlling virtue. This also was characteristic
of him in the matter : he made his complaint against Robert
Cecil not of him, but to him.

Come, I am glad he could bo angry and unreasonable.
They told me he was made up of policy.

" At length the Cecils were generous enougli to procure him
the reversion of the Eegistraiship of the Star-chamber. This

44 EVUNINOS WITH A BEVIEWEB.

was a lucrative place ; but as many yeai's elapsed before it
fell in, he Avas still under the necessity of labouring for his
daily bread."

My only exception to that sentence is upon the inde-
finite " at length " ; which makes the period of application
and neglect seem longer than it really was. The date of
the grant was the 29th October 1589, Bacon's twenty-ninth
year. It was obtained for him by Burghley, and (as Bacon
himself declares) against great opposition.

" In the parliament which was called in 1593 he sate as
member for Middlesex, and soon attained eminence as a
debater."

Here follows a discussion upon his style of oratory, with
the quotation from Ben Jonson. Unless you have some
excejDtion to make, we may skip this ; for it has no bearing
upon his personal character, which is what I want to see
cleared up.

If you j)lease. It would have been more to the purpose
if the reviewer had spent a few hours over D'Ewes's
Journals and endeavoured to trace, by the scattered foot-
prints which remain, Bacon's path in politics from the time
he first entered parliament in 1584. He would have come
better prepared to understand the single passage which, out
of a very prominent and active parliamentary career of
thirty years, he has selected as a sample ; not a bad samphi
if rightly reported ; but, as he reports it, a mere contrast
and incongruity. Of this passage I jshall have mucli to
say.

" Bacon tried to play a very difficult game in politics. He
wished to be at once a favourite at Court and popular with tlio
multitude."

EVENINGS WITH A HE VIE WEB. 45

Popular with the multitude! When in all his life did
Bacon address himself to the multitude ?

The popular party in the House of Commons was popular
(I suppose) with the people generally ; and he seems to
have wished to stand well with them.

Yes, hut the " multitude " was not then a party to the
proceedings in the House of Commons. There were no
strangers in the gallery. He spoke /or his constituents, not
to them. To establish a reputation out of doors as a patriot,
it was not enough now and then in the House to support a
popular measure, so long as he was known to be in the
service and favour of the Court. The poj^ulace judge by
broad facts. To win the reputation of a popular man, it
Avould have been necessary to break with the Court. What
lie did wish was to be in favour at once with the Court and
the House of Commons, by being faithful to both his trusts.
My objection is to the use of the word mtdtitude.

AVell, then, " with the popular party in the House of
Commons," we'll say. It is not material.

" If any man could have succeeded in this attempt, a man of
talents so rare, of judgment so prematurely ripe, of temper so
calm, of manners so plausible "

For " calm " read " well under command " ; and for
" plausible " read " simple, noble, and courteous."

" — might have been expected to succeed. Nor did he wholly
fail. Once, however, he indulged in a burbt of patriotism — "

46 EVENINGS WITH A It E VIEWER.

A hurst ? — But go on. I have a long story to tell yon
abuut this presently.

" — which cost him a long and hitter remorse, and which he
never ventured to repeat. Tlie court asked fur large suhsidies
and for speedy payment. The remains of Bacon's speech hieaiho
all the spirit of the Long Tarliament."

Does he not say what the subsidies were wanted for ?
Were they wanted for national or only for court objects ?
for a pojjular or an unpopular cause ? a sufficient or an
insufficient one ?

No, he says nothing of that? But of course v,o are to
understand him as condemning the proposition. AVhero
there is a difference on any question either of policy or of
fact between the government and anybody else, all our
modern liberal historians assume as a matter of course that
the government is in the wrong. AVith them all opposition
is presumably patriotism. It is as superfluous to ask whicli
party the reviewer tliinhs right in this case, as whetlicr ho
is jroinii: to vote with Sir liobert or Bord John the next
time they divide against each other. Ihit let us see what
Bacon lias to say about it.

" 'Jdic gentlemen (said iic) must sell tlieir plate, the farmers
their brass pots, cie Ihis will he }taid : and fur us, we are hero
to search tlie Avounds of the realm, nut to skin them over. The
dangers are these : — Fiist we shall breed discontent and en-
danger her ?>i;(jesty's safety, ^vhich mu>t consist more in the
luvo of the ])enplu than in their wealth. iSccinidlA-, this bein-^
{^ranted in this sort, other pvin-es hei-eaCler will luuk fur the
like; so that we shall ]int an evil piecedent upon ourselves
and our posterit}- : and in histories it is tu he observed of all
nations that the Ihiglish are not to be huhjeet, base, or taxahle."

EVENINGS WITH A RE VIE WEE. 47

Well this was his one burst of patriotism, I suppose.
Now for the " remorse."

" The Queen and her ministers resented this outbreak of
spirit in the highest manner. Indeed, many an honest member
of the House of Commons had for a much smaller matter been
sent to the Tower by the proud and hot-blooded Tudors."

There was some courage then at any rate in venturing it.

xV.

Wait.

" The young patriot condescended to make the most abject
apologies. He adjured the Lord Treasurer to show some favour
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 banish-
ment."

I suppose we had better have a look at the letters them-
selves. An " almost servile supplication " turned out just
now to be only a modest request. Perhaps the " abject
apology " may turn out to be only a respectful justification.

Yes, we will have the letters now, while this character
of them is fresh in your ears. And then I will give you
a true history at large of this transaction, which is really a
very significant one. Here is the first letter to Burgliley,
written upon the first official intimation of the Queen's
displeasure.

" It may please your Lordship, — I was sorry to find by
your Lordship's speech yesterday, that my last speech in
})arliament, delivered in discharge of my conscience and
duty to God, her Majesty, and my country, was oflcnaive.

-J 8 EVEXiyas with a heviewei:.

If it were misreported, I woiilJ Lc glad to attend your
Lordship to disavow anything I said not : if it were mis-
construed, I would be glad to expound myself to exclude
any sense I meant not. If my heart be misjudged by
imputation of popularity or opposition, by any envious or
malicious informer, I have great wrong ; — and the greater,
because the manner of my speech did most evidently show
that I spake simply and only to satisfy my conscience, and
not with any advantage or policy to sway the cause ; and
my terms carried all signification of duty and zeal towards
her Majesty and her service. It is true that, from the
beginning, whatsoever was above a double subsidy I did
wish miglit for precedent's sake appear to be extraordinary,
and for discontent's sake might not have been levied npon
the poorer sort : — though otherwise I wished it as rising, as
I think this will prove, and more. This was my mind ;
I confess it : and therefore I most humbly pray your good
liOrdship first to continue mo in your own good o})inion ; and
then to perform the part of an honourable friend towards
your poor servant and alliance, in drawing her 3Iajesty to
accept of the sincerity and simplicity of my heart and to
bear with the rest, and restore me to her ]Majesty's favour,
•which is to me dearer than my life.

" And so &c.,
"■ Your Lordship's most humble in all duty."

I thought so. No apology at all, but a plain justification.
Now for the other letter ; — written, I suppose, about the
same time.

I think later; but I can find nothing to determine the
exact date. However it is of no consequence.

**My Lord," — 1 1 believe ])y the way that tlie Lord to whom
tlie letter is addressed was the I'^arl of ]']ssex, not the Lord
Keeper*], — "It is a great grief unto me joined with marvel,

* Sec ''Letters anil Life,'' vol, i, p. '2o\K

EVENINGS WITH A. BEVIEWEE. 49

that her Majesty should retain an hard conceit of my
speeches in parliament. It might please her sacred Majesty
to think what might be my end in those speeches, if it were
not duty, and duty alone. I am not so simple, but I know
the common beaten way to please. And whereas popularity
hath been objected, I muse what care I should take to
please many, that take a course of life to deal with few.
On tlie other side, her Majesty's grace and particular favour
towards me hath been such, as I esteem no worldly thing
above the comfort to enjoy it, except it be the conscience
to deserve it. But if the not seconding some particular
person's opinion shall be presumption, and to differ upon
the manner shall be to impeach the end, — it shall teach my
devotion not to exceed wishes, and those in silence. Yet,
notwithstanding, to speak vainly as in grief, it may be her
Majesty hath discouraged as good a heart as ever looked
toward her service, and as void of self-love. And so in
more grief than I can well express, and much more than I
can well dissemble, I leave your Lordship ; being, as ever,
your Lordship's entirely devoted, etc."

Why, this is better and better. This means, if it mean
anything, that he cannot apologise for what he has done,
and only regrets tliat it should be so ill taken. It means
that he cannot serve the Queen at all, if service on these
conditions is not accepted. But tell me ; — what after all
w^as it that he had done ?

That is the very thing I was going to tell you. This
one hurst of i%itriotism in which he indulged — But I drew
up a few weeks since an account of the whole affair. I had
better read it to you ; and that will be enough for to-night.

In February 1592-3, Bacon's duty as a member of the
House of Commons drew him into a course which deeply
displeased the Queen, and materially damaged his prospects.
The case is curious, and for its bearing upon his character

vol.. I. E

50 EVEXTXGS WITH A BEVIEWEn.

as well as his fortunes, deserves to be carefully noticed. To
understand his position fully, it is necessary to go a little
further back.

The parliament wliich met on the 4th February 1588-9
(the year after the Spanish Armada) had been summoned
especially for supplies. Francis Bacon was one of the
committee to which the question of the supply was referred,
and appears to have taken a prominent part in the de-
liberations ; for when thoy had agreed to recommend an
extraordinary provision in proportion to tlie extraordinary
necessity, yet at the same time to provide by words inserted
in the preamble of the bill against its being drawn into a
precedent, it was ho who " set down a note in writing " for
that purpose, and was appointed to repair with it to the
Queen's learned counsel, who were charged with tlie pre-
paration of the bilk On tliis occasion no further ditiorence
appears to have arisen ; the bill finally passed the Commons
on the 10th of ]\Iarch and the Lords on the 17th.

The next House of Commons, which m(4 on the 10th of
February 1 592-3, under circumstances very similar, appears
to have been disposed to take tliis proceeding for a pre-
ce<lent. The business was supplies, and the occasion the
designs of Spain.

A debate (in which Francis Bacon took a leading part) *
upon the dangers the country then stood in, was followed by
the a]»pointment of a committee of supply; wliich agreed
to r( commend tlie same ])rovision that had been voted the
last parliament (two subsidies and four fifteenths and tenths)
coupled wilh the same precaution, viz. a rererence in the
preamble of the bill to the circumstances which made the
case extraordinary. AVith the proposed amount, however,
it seems that the court was not satisfied ; for. while the bill
was yet in |)ro[iaration, the Lords desired a cont'crence with
the (Jommons, at which it was flatly declared in their name
by Burghley, that " they might not nor they would not give

* Tl:e (■ml o'i liis >] frfh (a.- we Lnni fn.m D'l-lwcs. p. 171 ), was in (ii force
the ncfos.-ity "' "f ]>ri-,-(iil o.iisultatii'H ami prnvi~i(.n i.l' ti<asinc tu incvciit
the daiigers intc-inkd iig;iiiist the n aim Ly the King of ^]miii, llic I'ojk.-, and
otlifT confederates i.f tlic lle'y l.t'iigue."

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEIi. 51

their consents to less than a treble subsidy ; and not to a
treble nor a quadruple, unless qualified both in substance
and in circumstance of time : " * " to what proportion of
benevolence, or unto how much their Lordships tvould give
their assents in that behalf, they would not then show," but
desired another conference.

The substance of this communication being referred to
the House by Sir Eobert Cecil (apparently without any
motion or opinion from himself), " Mr. Francis Bacon " (who
had been himself present at the conference) " stood up, and
made a motion," — And now what do you think he will say?
The immediate question is not what amount of supply they
shall yield to, but what answer they shall send to the Lords.
The Lords (that is, the Court party) desire to confer with
the Commons in order to set before them the case of the
realm, and persuade them to vote a larger supply. Bacon
is a young and aspiring lawyer with a good prospect of rapid
advancement through court patronage, and without any
prospect of advancement from any other quarter. Of course,
you will say, he will go with the court party : his motion
will be that the House agree to the conference as proposed
by Burghley. And indeed why not? Whom can he offend
by doing so ? What credit can he lose ? To what odium or
reproach can it expose him ? Obviously it is the safe and
prudent course : apparently it is quite unobjectionable. But
perhaps you think it may lose him credit, or the opportunity
of gaining credit, in the House of Commons. To be promi-
nent in support of the government (you think) may weaken
his authority with the popular party. In that case he has only
to hold his tongue. There is no call on him to take an active
part. No inference can be drawn from his silence. No need,
if the court is to be opposed, that he should lead the opposi-
tion.— But you are wrong. He will do neither the one nor
the other. He thinks that for the Lower House to consent to
a conference with the Upper for the avowed purpose of dis-
cussing the amount of contribution to be voted (and this
was unquestionably Lord Burghley's proposal), will be to

* Ilargr. ;52i, f. 21.

52 EVENIXGS WITH A BEVIEWER.

abandon one of their understood and ascertained privileges.
He does not object to an increase of tlie grant, nor to the
reconsidering of tlie question : he objects to admit the Lords
as a party to the discussion of a money question. Accord-
ingly he rises at once and advises the House to decline to
accede to Burghley's proposition ; in fact (to translate it
into the modern phrase), he, though belonging to the
government party, does on this occasion had the opposition
against the government. — " His motion was for yielding to
the subsidies; but disliked that we should join with the
Lords of the Higher House in the granting of it : for the
custom and privilege of this House had always been to
make offer of the subsidy from hence unto the Higher
House. And reason it is that we should stand upon this
our privilege. Seeing the burden resteth upon us as the
greater number, no reason the thanks should be theirs.
And in joining with them in this motion, we sliall derogate
from ourselves ; for the thanks will be theirs and the blame
ours, they being the first movers. Wherefore he could wish
that in this action we should proceed as heretofore we had
done, apart by ourselves, and not joining with tliem. And
to satisfy their Lordships who expect an answer to-morrow,
some answer would be made in all obsequious and dutiful
manner."~(You see it was not the Queen and government
only to whom he thought it right, even in opposing them,
to be (jbsequiuus and dutiful. Indeed the answer whicli ho
proposes that the Commons sliould send to the Lords might
ixjrhaps by the reviewer be called an "abject apology."' it
has as much right to be so called as tlie letter to Ihirghlry
which we read just n(»w. There is as much modesty and
respect in it, and as little ac(piiescenee.)

" And out of liis bosom Jic drew an answer framed ])y
himself, to this effect in brief: Tliat wo liad considered
their Lordships' motioii, thouglit upon it as was lit, aiul in
all willingness would addr(;ss ourselves to do as so great a
cause desired; but to join with their [^(U'dships in tliis
business we could not but with pi-cjudice to the pi-ivile^-es of
this House, wherefore desired as we were wojit, so that now

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEE. ■ 53

we might proceed therein by ourselves apart from their
Lordships.

" Thus," (he added) " I think we may divide ourselves
from their Lordships, and yet without dissension. For this
is but an honourable emulation and division. To this he
cited a precedent in Henry the Eighth's time. Four of the
Lords came down into the Lower House and informed them
what necessity there was of subsidy. Hereupon the House
considered of it and granted a subsidy." *

His motion was " well liked by the House " (the govern-
ment party being taken I suppose by surprise, and making
no opposition), and the committee was appointed to frame
an answer accordingly.

But before we follow the business forth to its issue, let
us pause for a moment and consider it as it regards Bacon's
character and ways. For as far as he is concerned it is
already a complete act ; a decision promptly, decidedly, and
effectually taken ; no if in the matter ; no back-door open
for retreat or explanation ; no device reserved for giving it
a different colour. What could be his motive ? He could
not be ignorant that he was doing a thing very unpalatable
to Burghley, to Cecil, and to the Queen herself ; and
omitting to do a thing which would have been extremely
palatable to them. Was it in pique then ? Could he be
in despair of any good to come from that quarter ; or angry,
as feeling that his interest and pretensions had been neg-
lected ? Surely no. It was but two years since he had
received through Burghley's influence the reversion of a
valuable office ; this very year he had gone out of his way
to write the most affectionate and eloquent vindication on
record of the characters both of Burghley and Cecil ; he
was beginning to be employed in business of trust by the
Queen ; a vacancy in the law offices had just been made by
the death of the Master of the Rolls ; and it was but a few-
months after that he was one of the most likely candidates
for the Attorney-Generalship. He could have had neither

* llargr. MSS. 324.

54 EVEXINGS WITH A liEVIEWER.

end nor motive to make liim seek an occasion for quarrelling
with ]jurgbley. Or if you suppose that he was less careful
to keep well with Burghley because he had now begun to
depend upon Essex, through whom his other chance lay ;
you must remember that this other chance also lay through
the Queen. To ofiend the (Queen's party was as fatal to the
one as to the other. For his own private fortunes in that
direction, he could not but see that he was not })ur3uing a
prudent course.

Was there then any other direction in which he could
be beginning to look ? any interest elsewhere, which he
could have hoj^ed by this show of popularity to improve ?
Could he be preparing to rat, — to become instead of the
Queen's man the people's man ? Surely this would have
been the vainest of all projects. It is true there was a
jiopular party in the country and in the House of Commons ;
and of that party he might easily have made himself the
idol. But what could he have gained by tliat ? Wealth or
greatness it was not in their power to bestow ; nor was there
any chance of their having it for many years to come.
Thirty years afterwards an ambitious young courtier with
popular talents might well have rutted to the })arlian)cnt as
to the most powerful patron. But in (Jueen Jillizabetli's
time the popular party was a small minority whicli could
02ily promote its leaders to the Tower. Or even now if
Bacon had been a rich and powerful man, a man of lands and
alliances, who wanted not fortune but greatness and political
power, he might have allie*! himself to the popular party as
a politic move. Bis amlution miglit have teiiipte<l him that
way as the liktdiest roail to wliat lie \\anted. A man like
Essex might in talcing such a course have been suspected of
st'lfish objects. Jhit tliis W(ju1'1 not have (huie for Bacon.
His want was tlie means of living and working, wliicli tlio
])opular party could not have Jielj ed Iiim to. Xi ither any
lucrative olhc<', nor success in the ordinary [)i'ai-ti(.'e of his
profession, Jior impurtanee tliat eouhl in aiiv wav 1m' turned
into mcjney, nor even a p^sitiiin t!iat wouM have bi'might
him helps for iiis studies, eoulil liavo come to liijii thi'ough

EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWER. 55

that channel. Not to add that his whole life had been laid
out on another plan, which tended to withdraw him (except
as an active member of Parliament) from all popular courses.

But, you will say, though he may not have been court-
ing popularity, he may yet have been influenced by the fear
of Mwpopularity. And had the cause been a very unpopular
one, he might perhaps not unreasonably have been suspected
of such a motive. But this was by no means the case. The
cause was contribution, the contribution was to sustain the
war against Spain ; than which nothing was more popular,
either with the House of Commons or with the nation
generally. Of the many prominent men who sided with the
court on this occasion, and of the many more wlio held their
tongues, it does not appear that any one was at all the less
popular on that account.

Again, then, I ask, why did Francis Bacon, — the
courtier, the aspiring lawyer, whose hope and object at this
time was to obtain through court patronage some place under
government which might relieve him from the necessity of
drudging at the law for a livelihood — why did he on this
occasion oppose the court ? I can think but of one reason —
a reason plain, simple, and sufiLcient, if people would but be-
lieve it. He thought it his duty. He sat in the House of
Commons in a judicial capacity, as a representative of the
Commons, as a guardian of their rights and interests, as a
party to the making of laws and to the imposing of public
burdens for the service of the commonwealth. As such, ho
believed it to be his duty to oppose what he thought in-
jurious and to promote what he thought beneficial. The
proposed conference with the Lords, though the proposal
came from his own friends and patrons, he saw would be a
dangerous precedent ; and he advised the Commons not to
agree to it. What can be plainer or more rational ? Only
it requires us to suppose that the public interests, not his
own, were uppermost in his thoughts ; that (to use his owji
words) " he loved his coiuitry more than was answerable to
his fortune."

And now let us iu(|uire how the matter was carried on,

66 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER.

and whether he did anything in the sequel that is incon-
sistent with this supposition.

The committee met, but coukl not agree. At length
however, alter a good deal of debate, they reported to the
House, that a majority of their number was for the conference.
Ihit a debate arising upon the report (in which a fresh pre-
cedent against the conference,— which satisfuHl the greater
part of the House, including Coke the Speaker, — was brought
forward by ]Mr. Boale ; but the privy counsellors and courtiers
were still earnest for it), it was carried upon a division by
217 to 128, '"'that no such conference should be had with
the said committee of the Lords by the said committee of
this House." A grave and respectful answer was framed
accordingly ; and a committee appointed (in which it is to
be observed that, if Sir S. D'Ewes's list be correct. Bacon
was not included) to go up with it : the Chancellor of the
Exchequer to declare it.

Such was the immediate result of Bacon's motion. But
this was not the end. F(jr the Lords were not satisfied
with the answer, returned a message expressive of regret,
and desired to " see the precedents by whicli the House
seemed to refuse the said conference." Upon wliich, though
the ComuKjns resolved not to send the precedents, yet a
general disposition appears to have arisen in tlie House to
yield to the conference, upon the ground that the nature of
tiie question had been misunderstood. 3Ir. Bealo admitted
that he had himself misunderst(jod it; that the precedejit
whicli he had cited was inapplicable (for iji tliat case the
Lords had })roposed tliat the Commons should cortilrui what
they had do]ie, not confer about it), and tliat if he had con-
ceiveil the <|Uestion as it was meant, he would have been of
another opiiii(^ii. Others i'ollowed with retractations upon
the same ground. Sir liobert CV.'cil (to smooth tlie way
again) declare<l, — what, uidess the repoi'ts are totally in-
accui'ate, \\as not tiaie.-— that " it was never desii'ed of the
]>(n'<ls to coiil'ei- with tli<' CdnniKUis ahout a .^iili.'</(///.'' Awl
Sir Walter lliiliMgli, prompt ly tnking tin; hint, ])ropo.sed tiiat
it sliouM bt.' jmt to the House as a new qmstion whether

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB. 57

tliey slionld agree to a general conference with the Lords,
without naming a subsidy ; which question was put accord-
ingly and carried nem. con. Whether Bacon took any part
in this latter debate, or whether he was present, we cannot
tell ; for in the imperfect accounts which we have of the pro-
ceedings of the day, his name is not mentioned. But I
suppose we may safely conclude that he was not among
those who retracted their opinions, for such a circumstance
could hardly have escaped mention.

The committee having been sent up to the Lords with
this message and having heard what they had to say, re-
turned to take fresh instructions as to their further answer ;
and upon this a general debate * arose concerning the
danofers of the kino-dom and the remedies. That three
subsidies and six-fifteenths should be granted was generally
agreed ; the difference of opinion turned chiefly upon the
time and manner of payment. " Some of the committees
(says Sir S, D'Ewes) would have this propounded, whether
the three subsidies should be raised in four years or in
three : others dissented from it."

And now, once more, what line will Francis Bacon take ?
If his first motion was made (which it is hardly possible to
suppose) inconsiderately, without reflecting upon the con-
sequences to his own standing in the good graces of the
Queen, lie could not at any rate be under any such mistake
now. It was notorious that the court was much offended
and annoyed at the opposition. It had been publicly talked
of in the House as an offence which had been reported to
the Queen and members " noted " for it ; f and though he
had omitted the opportunity which had been already offered,
of retracting his opinion (as others had done) on the plea of
having misunderstood the nature of the question, he might
now at least make some amends by actively seconding the
government proposition for the speedy collection of the
increased contribution. This he could do without any ap-
parent inconsistency, because he had from the first declared
himself to be in favour of the proposed increase, and had
* Wedut'sday, March 7. t Sir Henry Uiuptou's speech.

58 EVL'NINOS WITH A REVIEWEB.

said nothing about the time or manner of collection. It
was also evident that there was no strong: feeling- in the
House against it; in fa"t, that there was a majority of
voices in favour of it. AVhat motive can he now have for
opposing his j^arty and so increasing the displeasure which
he knew that his first opposition had drawn upon him ?

Yet again we find him leading the opposition in a speech
which it is plain (because all the leading members of the
Court party addressed themselves to answer it) was a telling
and effective one. After Mr. Ileale had spoken on the
Court side, recommending that " more than subsidies should
be yielded," and if subsidies only, then that the commis-
sion should have power to " force men," Bacon got up, and
assenting to the three subsidies (as he had done at first)
objected to " the payment under six years," as making each
subsidy in effect a double subsidy, which would entail a
twofold danger ; one to the Queen, for the burden would
be found so heavy that the collection would breed discon-
tent dangerous to her safety ; the other to the country, for
it would stand as a precedent v> hich other parliaments woidd
be expected to follow and other sovereigns would claim.
He objected also to the manner of supply (though it had
been intimated that morning by the Yice-Chandjerlain, that
" the Queen liked not such fineness of device and novel
inventions, but liked rather to have the ancient usages
offeied "j, and recommended a supply " by levy or im-
position when need should most require " ratlier tlian by
subsidy. lie was answered by Sir TJiomas Heneage (Yiee-
Chamberlain), by Sir Walter lialeigh, by jMr. Heale, and
by 8ir iiobcrt Cecil, each of whom (as ajipears by such
memoranda of their sj)cechos as luive been preserved) ad-
dressed himself directly to answer his arguments. And in
the end it was carried against him without a division.

After this, we have no particulars of tlic dobates upon
this question ; we only kiujw that a bill was franu'd accord-
ing to this resolution, and going tliruugli the usual stages
(though dijjlcnltli/ and not without tlie help of the Speaker,*

* Cnkc.

EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWEJi. 59

who is stated to have " overreachod the House in the subtle
putting of the question ") was passed on the 22nd of March.

I must confess that upon reviewing Bacon's conduct in
this matter, I find some dil'liculty in accounting for it ;
though it is not the kind of difficulty which his conduct
generally is supposed to involve. That he should have been
rather shy in publicly opposing a proposition of this kind,
even if it were one w'hich he did not altogether approve,
could not seem strange to any one in the year 1845. But
that a young member, whose reputation was not yet fully
luade and whose fortune was all to make, should divide his
own party upon a question of such deep interest to them,
unless he were constrained to do it by some stronger motive
than (in our present imperfect knowledge of the affairs of
the time) we can discover, — does, according to our modern
code of party morals, seem odd. The occasion for these
subsidies was confessedly great, worthy, and popular. The
difliculty might indeed be considerable ; the danger of
discontent when they came to be collected probably was
serious ; and it may be that the measure was on that
account really impolitic, and that the Queen would have
acted more wisely for her own interest had his suggestion
been adopted. But it does not appear that there was any
imminent or desperate danger. Such danger as there was
he might have thought it his duty to point out ; but this
he might have done quietly in the committee, and then left
it to the government and the House to settle it for them-
selves upon their own responsibility. He was not in such
a position of authority with the House that his silence was
to carry the question. He could hardly think therefore
that he lay under any imperative duty to go out of his way
for tlie purpose of obstructing a measure upon which his
own party were so earnestly bent. It was such a point as
a member of the cabinet might in these days dissent from
his colleagues upon, and in tlie cahinet earnestly oppose
them ; being nevertheless prepared to give up his oppo-
sition if outvoted, and go along with them whea tiie matter

60 EVEXIXGS WITH A BE VIE WEE.

came before the House. Perhaps the privacy of the House
of Commons in those days (which was then really a de-
liberative assembly) may partly account for it. The matter
was (as it were) within the walls of the Council Chamber,
and every one might speak his thought. But I cannot help
thinking that we must look further for the true secret of
it, — in some peculiarity of his personal character. A year
or two after, the Lord Keeper Puckering had taken offence
at something which he had said or written, and Essex
writing to pacify him says, " I told you before this manner
of his was only a natural freedom and plainness which he
Lath used with me, and to my knowledge with some other
of his best friends ; " and this, I susj^ect, contains the true
key of his conduct on this occasion. It was the simplicity
and earnestness of the man, and the careless confidence of
a good intention, which prompted him to speak out what
he thought and felt, presuming that what was uttered so
candidly would meet with as candid a construction ; what
was meant only for the good of all would surely be taken
as well-meant. It was the advice which (had he had a
right to advise) he would himself have given to the Queen ;
and (having such a right in the House of Commons) he
gave it by way of advice to them. As an approved friend,
it was his privilege to give a free censure ; as a man who
had no personal interest in the course he recommended, he
could the better recommend it boldly. That a man of so
singular a genius sh(juld have some singularity of character
is but natural ; and this I suppose was his. For certainly
though he C(juld not but have known that such a ciairse
would not be acceptable to the Queen, he does not seem to
have been prepared for tlie degree of displeasure whicli it
brought U])()n him. And even when the extent of her dis-
pleasure was fully known to him, he could n(»t bring liiniself
to make any apology or retractation, or to explain away
what he had said.

P)Utthis again should be consiih-rcd apart, as a rre>]i ease.
His duty to the House of Coninmns and t'l tln' |aililic has

EVENINQS WITH A BE VIEWER. 61

been performed ; the offence to his party and to the Queen
has been given ; his fortunes are in jeopardy, How will he
set about to recover the favour which he has lost ? Tlie
Queen would not allow him access, as she had used to do ;
and caused the occasion, namely his late speeches in parlia-
ment, to be intimated to him through Burghley. As to the
real ground of her displeasure, there could be little doubt.
It could not be so much for the single act,— a solitary " burst
of patriotism," as j\lacaulciy describes it, — as for the spirit
and temper which it manifested. Here was a young courtier
who could not be relied on for supporting the measures of
the Court ; who, however zealous a royalist, nevertheless
acknowledged a divided duty ; and held himself bound, as a
member of parliament, to stand by his own opinion and
follow his own course in opposition to hers, if he could not
bring himself to approve it. To be restored to her con-
fidence and favour was not only, from affection and loyalty,
a natural wish ; but with a view to his own fortunes, which
seemed to be then upon the point of being made or marred,
it was at that moment a prime object. The way to bring
about this object was obvious enough. It was to be sought,
not by justifying his conduct as enjoined by duty ; that
would but aggravate the offence ; — but by acknowledging it
as an error ; by explaining it away ; by ascribing it to mis-
apprehension ; by pretending some secret design to win
thereby the confidence of the House, disarm suspicion, and
acquire authority there, that he might be the better able
to further her ends afterwards ; in short, by putting some
colour upon it that might make her believe he would not
do so again, but might be depended upon as an obsequious
and manageable supporter. He could hardly have had
much difficulty in conveying such an impression, had he
really wished it ; he could certainly have no difficulty (con-
science apart) in inventing a construction for his conduct
tending that way ; and ample time he had for working,
seeing that her displeasure lasted at least two years and
a half.

Now I do not find that he moved a single inch in this

62 EVEXIXGS WITH A BEVIEWEB.

direction. lie stood frankly and firmly upon bis justifi-
cation ; refusing to understand upon what ground his con-
duct (rightly construed) could be considered offensive. His
tone and terms were, no doubt, modest and respectful ; of
sorrow and discouragement rather than of haughtiness and
self-assertion; but the substance of his answer was remon-
strance and expostulation, as of a man who feels that he is
injured ; not submission or apology. I>ook back at the
letter to Burghley which we have just read. He is sorry to
find that his speech, delivered in discharge of his duty to
God, her 3Iaje>ty and his country, was offensive. He thinks
it must have been misreported or misunderstood; and, if so,
would be glad of an opportunity to explain. If he were
suspected of " popularity or opposition" {i.e. of joining the
party then in opposition and turning dema<:ogue) he had
great wrong, for there was nothing in his speech that
savoured of party opposition : " the manner of it did most
evidently show that he spake simply and only to satisfy his
conscience, and not with any advantage or policy to stray tJte
cause ; and his terms carried all signification of duty," itc. ;
all wdiich was strictly true. But did he retract or ex])lain
away anything ? Not a jot. It was tiue that " whatsoever
■was above a double subsidy he did wish " — (just as he had
wished in l.')88 when he himself drew up a clause in the
preamble for that purpose) — " for precedent's sake might
seem to be extraordinary, and for discontent's sake might not
have been levied upon the poorer sort ; though otherwise he
•wished it as rising," &c. (and though it is true that he says
notliing on flu's occasion about his opposition to the speedy
collection, which he alludes to in a letter on the same
subject of hiter date, yet he says nothing to ex})lain away or
retract even that). " Tliis ^\as his mind : he confesses it ;
and tlierf'fore he hopes tliat Burghley will continue liim in
Ids own good opinion, and endeavour to diaw her ^lajcstv to
accept of tl:e siiiij.Jicity and sincoi'itv of liis zeal, and to
h(dd him in her la^•o1lr," uc. In othei' words, — It is true
tliat I opposed tlie go\'ernnient }tid[iosition ; but 1 op]iosed
it not out of any ill-will to the go\einment, but beeause I

EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWER. Go

thouglit it impolitic and dangerous ; therefore what could I
do but oppose it ? And therefore the Queen ought to think
the better of me for what I did, seeing that I did only what
I thought right.

But this was a strain of public morals rather too high for
the Queen. That was not the kind of service which would
do for her; and her displeasure showed no symptoms of
abating.

Seeing then that slie would not think better of it, did he
begin to think better of it himself, and try to show that her
displeasure had had the effect of bringing him to a better
sense of his duty ? There would have been good hope in
that, for your strong mind likes nothing so well as to see the
reluctant will brought into subjection. But no such thing.
He could still be humble, dutiful, and affectionate ; but he
could not say that he had been in the wrong, or that he
could rightly have done anything other than what he did.
Look back again to the other letter, the last which we read,
addressed, I think, to the Earl of Essex, " It was a great
grief to him, joined with marvel, that her Majesty should
retain an hard conceit, &c. &c. It might please her gracious
Majesty to think what might be his end in those speeches
if it were not duty, and duty alone." (Still not a word about
being sorry that he had made them ; he is only sorrv that
she should take them so ill.) " And whereas popularity had
been objected, he mused what care he sliould take to please
many, who took a course of life to deal with few." (He had
nothing to look for from that quarter; his hopes were all
from the Queen.) " Her ]\Iajesty's particular favour to-
wards him had been such that he esteemed no worldly tiling
above the comfort to enjoy it, except it were the conscience
to deserve it," (What tlien would he give for it ? He
knew the price well enough.) " He was not so simple but ho
knew' the common beaten way to please." But will he do
as he is bid ? By no means ; the condition is too hard
for him, " If the not seconding some particular person's
opinion shall be presumption, and to differ upon the manner
shall be to impeach the end, it shall teach him "— wliat ? to

64 EVEXIXGS WITH A BEVIEWER.

know better hereafter ? to trust her juflgraent ratlior than
his own ? to advise nothing but what she wishes ? Not at
alb " It sliall teach his devotion not to exceed wishes, and
those in silence." And this is tlie nearest approach to sub-
mission that he can In-ing himself to make. He must still
icisli to serve her ; but not being able to serve her on such
conditions, he can do no more than wisli. Nay, he cannot
even admit that her jealousy is reasonable ; but must still
maintain that slie is doing injustice to liim and injury to
herself. " It may be her 3Iajesty hath discouraged as good
a heart as ever looked to her service, and as void of self-love."
Still the jealousy of the Queen was not mitigated ; for a
year and a half later we find the same cause of offence still
uppermost. Burghley, indeed, and Robert Cecil, having
known Bacon since he was a boy, and being convinced there-
fore that his explanation Avas sincere, and that his opposition
had been that of a free couiisellor, not of an antagonist, a})pear
to have been satisfied and to have wished the Queen to advance
him — but she still objected (June 1595) that same "speech
in parliament." So here he had one opportunity more of
endeavouring to explain his conduct away if he luid wislicd to
do so. But still we have the old story — he had nothing to
apologise for, " ]\[y hope is, that whereas your Lordship told
me her 31ajcsty was somewhat gravelled upon the offence she
took at my speech in parliament, your Lordship's favourable
and good word (who hath assured me that for your own part
you construed tliat I spake to the best) will be as a good tide
to remove her from that shelf. And it is not unknown to
your Lordship that I was the first of the ordinary sort of the
Lower House that spalce for the subsidy ; and that which I
after spake in difference was but in circumstance of time and
manner; wliich metliiuks should bo no groat matter, since
there is variety allowed in counsel as a discord in music to
make it more perfect." * Still, you see, it is in the spirit of
justification, not of .ijiology, that ho writes. Not a hint that
he would do differently another time upon a similar occasion.

* Letterw and Life of FranciH Bucon, vol. i. p. 'M'l,

EVENINGS WITH A BEVlEWEPx. 65

He canuot admit that be was himself in the wrong ; his
anxiety is that the Queen may be brought to understand
that he was right. And this, so far as I can learn, is the
last we hear of the matter.

Now let any man, setting aside any preconceptions he
may have formed as to Bacon's character, and all modern
notions of the indignity of treating queens with respect,
endeavour to interpret naturally these words and actions,
and then say whether they indicate anything but simplicity,
sincerity, and integrity. Had he been the selfish, crafty,
time-serving man that he is now commonly taken for, is it
not clear that at each successive step throughout this whole
action he would have taken a different course ?

First, on the question of the conference, he would not
have divided the House against his own party.

Secondly, he would at least have taken occasion to
retract his opinion when he saw a disposition in the whole
House to retract.

Thirdly, on the question of supply (which was the next
stage in the business) he would have supported his party,
instead of again opposing them.

Fourthly, when he found that the Queen (instead of
thanking her stars that she had so able and so honest a man
on her side) resented such independence and withdrew her
favour, he would have tried to put it to the account of any
motive rather than that of imperative duty which left him
no other choice, and to give her assurance that hereafter he
would be better advised and understand his duties dif-
ferently.

Upon each and all of which occasions he took a course
so directly opposite to that which would naturally have
been taken by a time-serving politician, that one might
better cite the story as an instance of a man knowing and
deliberately sacrificing what he knew to be his private
interest to what he conceived to be his public duty. This
however would be going further than I mean to go myself.
1 think it possible enough that in this case he tliought his

VOL. 1. F

66 £ VEXING S WITH A REVIEW EB.

interest and his duty compatible. Out of his great reverence
for the character of the Queen, he may well have given her
credit for understanding her own interest better than she
seems to have done, and valuing a man all the more liiglily
for such independence. His precept addressed more than
twenty years after to Buckingham was, " Rather make able
and honest men yours than advance those that are otherwise
because they are yours ; " and he may have hoped that the
Queen would act upon this principle. Be it so. Be it that
he thought the reputation of honesty a better means of
rising than sycophancy. All I contend is, that it was by
honesty and not by sycophancy tliat he was seeking to rise.

Where does your story come from ? It must be a
friend's statement,

By no means. The facts all come from D'Ewes's Journals,
who was anything but an admirer of Bacon. But he was
not thinking of Bacon's character at all when he made tlie
collection. He was merely gathering together all the
records he could find of the proceedings in parliament
during the reign of Elizabeth. His opinion of Bacon's
character is worth nothing, for he was but a boy at the
time of his full, and when a man was no great conjuror ;
and probably neither had any means nor took any pains to
understand what sort of person Bacon really was. He would
naturally believe what the Puritan party said of him, — who
would of course think the worst of a disgraced royalist.
But, as a collector, I believe there is no reason to doubt his
fidelity, — any more than his didness and pmsiness, which
no man can doultt.

I should like to read it again. It soenis to suggest an
entirely new view of Bacon's character, and of his rehition
to the powers that were. And accustomed as one is to th<'

EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWLB. GT

rules of modern parliamentary tactics, it is difficult at fir-st
to take it in.

Take it home with you, and if you can find any other
meaning in it, or solution of it, I shall be glad to hear it.
Even if it should appear that he was all this while trying to
second and to ingratiate himself with the government (which
seems to me quite impossible), 1 should not on that account
think the worse of him. There was never occasion when
opposition for the purpose of obstruction could have been
less justifiable : — never time when a man who " loved his
country more than his fortune " might more reasonably have
desired to be in the favour and s:irvice of the Crown. But
this is a virtue of which now-a-days the very tradition
appears to be lost among men. We have many a man who
is ready enough to sacrifice his fortunes to his credit or
his party, but no man who will (except in crises of great
danger) sacrifice either his party or his credit to the public
interests.

I do not know that I can go the whole length of that
proposition with you. But it is too late to dispute about
it now ; and besides it wo\ild lead us astray from our present
business. I can well believe for my own part that a genuine
jiatriotism might have found more to do under Queen
Elizabeth than against her. If other sovereigns had been
like her, we should have believed in divine right still. I
will take your paper home with me.

EVENING THE THIRD.

Well, I have read your story carefully, and I confess that
Bacon's conduct does look very unlike that of a man seeking
his own ends ; and of that we have so many instances among
us now-a-days, that I feel as if I knew its face well. That
it is very liJ:e the conduct of a man whose uppermost wish is
the general good of the State, is not so easy to affirm, — the
examples are so few of that virtue. But it is very like what
one would imagine it to be.

Suppose him to have believed in loth, — both the Queen
and the Constitution ; to have believed that the common
good was to be looked for from the combined and harmonious
oj)eration of the three powers, not from the ascendency of
this or that ; that their business was (especially at that time
of danger, internal and external), not to be struggling to
carry points against each other, but each to bear itself so
that the common good of all might be carried in common ; —
and surely there could be no difficulty in believing this ; for
whatever matters of dispute there might be between them,
they were all for Protestantism as against Popery, and for
England as against Spain ; — suppose him to have believed
this, and we may surely account both for his speeches and
his apologies on this occasion, without considering the one
as an unguarded " burst of patriotism," a bid for " popularity

70 E VEXING S WITH A r.EVIEWER.

Avitb the multitude," or the other as a servile desertion of
his post, — a sale of his conscience for court-favour. Never
was there a position in which a true patriot could do better
service than that of mediator between two sucli parties as
the Crown and the Commons in those days ; never was there
a man so fitted by nature, by rank, by talents,, by principles,
and by wishes, to do best service in such a position, as
Francis Bacon. It was the very part which tlirough his
whole career he was striving to play ; the only office, I
think, into which he endeavoured on all occasions to tlirimt
himself. It was the (>>ueon'3 weakness, — lier pride of will, —
that prevented her from understandiag or accepting sucli
services rightly. It was Bacon's virtue — a virtue at once
characteristic and honourable — in the first place not to
suppose the existence of such weakness in her ; and in the
next place, \\hen he coidd not but see it, to do ^^hat ho
could to save her from the bad eifects of it. I^ut let us have
some more. We shall never get througli, if we stay to dis-
cuss at this length.

\Ye left off, I think, at the "abject apology;" which was
the reviewer's expression for an offer to explain anything
that had been misreported or inisunderstood.

"The lesson was not tlirown away. Bacon nc-vcr oiTfiided in
ilie same numiier again."

Perhaps not. But wliat of that? Did a similar occasion
ever arise again ? Did the Bords ever propose again to
confer with the Commons for the purpose of dictating to
them the amount of su})ply ^\hich they should vote ? ^^'as
an amount of supply ever ^troposod again in the House
of Commons which ho thought unnecessary or unwise?
Larger supplies were voted afterwards I know. J>ut, as thev
passed without difliculty, I coiK-ludc that according to the
creneral sense of the Bouse thev wer(.' not larger than the
occasion demanded, or the people could conveniently bear. It

EVJ'JNINOS WITH A TiF.VJEWFJ!. i 1

was 110 part surely of his duty to oppose a measure which Jic
approved, merely for the sake of showing that he durst
offend the Queen. To make good a charge of servility it is
surely necessary to show that he did something w^hich was
bad for the State, or omitted to do something wdiich the
good of the State required. I am not prepared positively to
deny that there are any grounds for such a charge, but I
never heard of any ; and I am sure it is the reviewer's
business to state them.

It is a business however which he does not undertake ;
for we are at the end of the paragraph ; and the next, I see,
opens a new subject.

Then I say that the charges in the former part of that
paragraph are proved to be groundless ; and that the last is
no charge at all ; for it implies no fault. Now for the new
subject.

" lie was now satisfied that he had little to hope from the
patronage of those powerful kinsmen whom he had solicited
during twelve years with such meek pertinacity; and he began
to look towards a different quarter. Among the courtiers of
Elizabeth had lately appeared — "

Stop, stop, stop. Now you shall see how this carelessness
as to small facts panders to serious misrepresentations ; and
how circumstances, true in themselves, by being artificiallv
arranged in a false order of succession, can be made to tell a
false tale.— But tell me first what is the tale which these
sentences tell you. I would not take advantage of a careless
expression. AVhat do they seem to you to imply ?

It is plain enough, is it not ? The reviewer is going to
explain the origin of Bacon's attachment to the Earl of

il EVEXJXGS WJTJf A BE VIEWER.

Essex. lie had applied himself, he tells us, to Burghlev, as
the most powerful man in whom he had any interest, as long-
as he hoped to get anything from him. Having now fallen
under liis displeasure by this opposition in parliament, he
could hope for no more ; and therefore applied himself to
his young rival.

Just so. Tliat no doubt was the impression whicli ho
intended to convey. What should you say if Bacon's at-
tachment to Essex had commenced two or tliree years
before ; had commenced at a time when he had least reason
to despair of favour from Burghlev ; at (or not long after)
the time when he obtained through liim the reversion of the
Clerkship of the Star Chamber; and near about the time
which ]\[acaulay himself assigns (though I believe wrongly)
as the date of his appointment as (Queen's Counsel ?

I could only say that he is mistaken as to his facts, and
that his inference therefore falls to the j^round.

Well then, we do happen to know that Bacon had
attached himself to Essex, — had in a singular manner
devoted himself to the service of Essex, — some time before
February 1501-2. The date of the grant of the Clerkshij)
was (as you remember) October Ej89. Ilis a])pointment as
Queen's Counsel was (according to the reviewer) in 15!*0.
The present occasion was in the spring of l.'»i)3.

Then this point dro[)S like the rest. And I suppose wo
may pass the next two i)ages, which relate to the character
of the Court factions, and have mAhing to d(j with Bacon,

i:v£xixos WITH a be vie web. To

Pass this, if you will. J)ut I had something more to say
upon the last sentence. What was it that he had been
doing during the last twelve years ?

Soliciting his powerful kinsmen with meek pertinacity.

Ay. I only wanted to remind you that there are but
five letters extant written to his powerful kinsmen during
those twelve years. Two of them were written in 1580
(which we have read) — ^one a modest application to Tiady
Burghley to stand his friend ; the other an equally modest
recommendation of himself to Lord Burghley. The third,
written about a month later, was a letter of thanks, not of
solicitation. The fourth was in 1586, — the " patient and
serene " answer to the " testy refusal " and the lecture on
vanity, — which we have also read. A fifth was written in
1591, in which he speaks of his " vast contemplative ends "
and his " moderate civil ends ; " aspires only to serv^e her
Majesty " in some middle place," which may enable him to
devote the rest of his time to those studies ; and (if this
may not be) talks of " selling his inheritance and purchasing
some lease of quick revenue," &c., and turning book-maker.
Letters of solicitation therefore in these twelve years we
know of only three ; to which add one other application
of the kind, either by word or by letter, which we know
passed — but know no more about it. IMore may have passed ;
probably did. But these are all we hear of; all that remain
for evidence of this course of solicitation pursued " during
twelve years with such meek pertinacity."

I do not feel bound to defend that expression. — In the
next page I see it stated, that " Piobert Cecil sickened with
fear and envy as he contemplated the rising fame and in-

<4 EVL'XINOS WITH A BEVlEWKl!.

flut-noe of Esses." Is there any ground for tliis impiitati(»ii
besides the fact that they were rivals ? I have often
observed that among contemporaries feelings of this kind
are imputed as a matter of course to persons whose interests
clash, without any evidence whatever ; and I suppose
historians do the same.

Robert Cecil and Essex were rivals for the Queen's
favour, and each wished to keep the other down. For fear
and envy, I do not suppose there was much to choose
between them. Essex, though 0})en and declared, was not
candid or generous, in his enmities. Eobert Cecil, though
somewhat given to secret scheming and undermining, has
not been charged (so far as I know) with any act of palpable
injustice towards Essex. Essex would not have lost an
opportunity to overbear Robert Cecil ; Robert Cecil would
no doubt have used occasions to undermine Essex. But tor
my own part I Jiever infer anything whatever from these
sweeping imputations of feelings and motives without evi-
dence ; — unless perhajis that the writer himself would
under such circumstances have felt so. And in this pai--
ticular case I take them to bo merely devices of rhetoric—
a point of art in composition.

But it is of no consequence. Pass on to the bottom of
the next page, in which he draws an estimate of Essex's
character. Yov that is important for tlu.^ light it gives to
what follows.

"Nothing in the public conduct of Ess^ex entitles him 1i»
esteem ; aiid the pity Avith Avliicli avc regard his early and
terrible end is diminished by tlie consideration that he put
to hazard tlie lives and fdrtniies of Ir's most attached friends,
and endeavdiired U) tiirow the Avlidle eninitiy into confusion hji-
objects purely jtersonah"'

Yes. 1 want you especially to remark and remember
that sentence. I was going to say that in this (for once)

EVENINGS WITH A JiEVIEWEIi. 7.)

the fact is not overstated. But the word " endeavoured " is
too strong. It implies a worse intention than Essex can be
justly charged with. He would liave been glad, and I dare
say did hope, to accomplish his ends without throwing the
country into confusion. But say he was 'prepared to do it,
or did not shrinh from doing it, — which is strictly true, —
and the case is bad enough. It is of prime importance to
bear this in mind when we come to judge of Bacon's con-
duct towards him ; which is commonly judged as if the
question had merely been between his friend and his interest,
and not at all between a bad cause and a good one. But
of that presently. Only remember the reviewer's own
judgment here pronounced upon Essex's cause.

It is a damning judgment upon his cause. But if the
man had so much good in him, I do not see why it should
diminish our pittj for him.

Nor I. Pity him as much as you will. Pity him for
ever— and all the more because his cause tvas so bad. But
the question is not of pitying liim, but of the 23ropriety of
excusing or defending him. The reviewer seems to think
that though he is the less to be pitied now, he ought not
the less to have been defended then.

" Still it is impossible not to be deeply interested for a man
so brave, high-spirited, and generous ; for a man who, while ho
conducted himself towards his sovereign with a boldness whiuii
was then found in no other subject — "

There the secret comes out ! He was not (in the
reviewer's opinion) a good patriot ; not even a good friend ;
his objects were purely personal, and for such objects he
was ready to sacrifice both friends and country. But he
had the magnanimity to treat the Queen with boldness.

7G EVEXIXO'S WITH A REVIEW En.

And what kind of boldness? The bohlnoss of a faithful
counsellor? Xo. He was never checked for that. But
with the boldness of a man who could not endure to be
reproved or slighteil, or to see another man more powerful
or more favoured tlian himself. As if there were any virtue
in boldness where the ends are not virtuous which a man
seeks to carry by it ! But this is our reviewer's morality.
To be overbearing and violent in the pursuit of personal
power and wealth is honourable and interesting. To be
meek, submissive, and affectionate, in going without them,
is " abject," and " borders on meanness."

No, no. You are unjust to Macaulay there. Wliat lie
admires in Essex is his conduct towards his inferiors.

" —for a man who, while he conducted himself towards his
sovereign with a boldness which was then found in no other
subject, conducted Inmsolf towards his dependents with a
delicacy such as lias rarely Ijeen found in any other patron.
Unlike the vulgar herd of benefactors, he desired to inspire
not gratitude but affection. lie tried to make those wdiom he
befriended feel towards him as towards an equal. His mind —
ardent, susceptible, naturally disposed to admiration of all that
is great and beautiful — was fascinated by the genius and
accomplisliments of Bacon. A close friendship was soon formed
between them ; a friendship destined to have a dark, a moui]i-
ful, a shameful end."

Setting aside the epithet " shameful " to bo discussed
when we come to the particulars of the case, I subscribe to
the rest of this. Essex's bearing tcnvards his dependents
deserves all the admiration whicli the reviewer bestows upon
it. It was very noble and beautil'ul ; and tlie only exception
I have to take to it is this: — Tliougli he wished to treat his
dependents as li'iends, yet he wislied his fi'irnds to le do
pondent. 1 wish it C(Ui]d Ijo shown that he over patronizeil
genius or virtue which was not eidisted in his own service.

However, J am far from wishing to depreciate Essex's

EVENINGS WITH A HE VIE WEE. 77

many noble qualities. Indeed I think more highly of him
than Macanlay docs. For I believe that he did love his
country, and would have done great things for it and for
mankind, if he had had calm weather and his own way. He
was only not great enough, or Avise enough, or virtuous
enough, to be content with serving where he could not com-
mand. When his ambition and his duty clashed, he forgot
his duty. But though I admit that in this instance the
reviewer shows a sense of his good qualities, it is not the less
clear to me that he admires him also (if not still more) for
his faults.

It does look rather like it.

"In 159-i the office of Attornej'-Gcnoral became vacant, and
Bacon hoped to obtain it."

f^ay rather that early in February 1503, immediately
before the parliament business, the Mastership of the Rolls
became vacant, and was generally expected to be bestowed
upon Sir Thomas Egerton, who was then Attorney-General.
Bacon's friends hoped in that case that he would be made
Attorney-General.

'• Essex made his friend's cause his own ; — sued, expostu-
lated, promised, threatened, but all in vain. It is probable
that the dislike felt by the Cecils for Bacon had been increased
by the connexion he had lately formed with the Earl."

It is likely enough that, if not his connexion with Essex
— which was no new matter — yet the manner in which Essex
took up his cause may have inclined the Cecils against him.
For as to any previous dislil-e of him, as here assumed, there
is no evidence of any such matter. It is not even certain
that in the first instance they opposed the appointment. I
found in the British 3Iuseum a letter from Sir Thomas Cecil

78 i'riL'.VAVO'^' WITH A llEVIEWEn.

to Burgliley, — Sir Thomas was his eldest son, — recommend-
ing Bacon for the place of Attorney in terms which rather
exclude than imply any notion tluxt the suit would be dis-
tasteful. And Sir l\ohert Cecil intimated to liinij as early
as IGth April 1593, his " good opinion, good affection, and
readiness " to deal for him, in some cause which can hardly
have been any but this. And though I find no proof that
Burghley himself ever encouraged his suit for \\\v. Attorney-
sliip, yet for the SoJicitor-^lup he certainly did ; an<l to en-
deavour to make a man of thirty-two Solicitor-General, can
hardly be called an unfriendly oftice. And as for his op-
posing or not encouraging his pretensions to the higlier
oftice, we must remember that the manner in which Essex
took up the cause somewhat altered tlie nature of it ; making
the question to be, not wlietlier Bacon or Coke should be
Attorney, but whether r>urghley or Essex sliould be tlio
greater man. As Essex handled it, the appointment if made
must have been taken for his act. And it is possible enough
that Burghley was jealous of such an addition as this must
have been to Essex's greatness. All men would have been
for following the man whose influence at Court was great
enough to })rocure such an a[)pointment for sit young a
person as Bacon.

" Jiobert was then on the point of Ix-iiig made .Secretary of
State. lie happciiud one day to l)e in the same eoacli witli
Essex, and a remarkaLle conveisatiim tuck place l)etween tlieui.
'My Lord,' said Sir liobert, 'the (^)ueeu lias determined to
appoint an Attorney-General witlu^nt more delay. I pray your
Jjordsliip to tell me wlmni yon will favour.' ' J wonder at vniir
rpiesti")!.' replied the Ivirl. ' Yuu eannot but know that reso-
lutely against all the wurld J stand for }'our cousin, Francis
l>acon.' ' Go(»d Lord! ' cried Cecil, nnahle to bridle his temper;
' I wonder ^-onr Lordship sliould spend your streni;-th upon so
nidikely a mat !er. ("an you name one iireceilent of so raw a
youth ])r(jmuted to so great a place?" This ohjection tvuno witii
a singularly bad gra(_'e from a man who, though y(.)Uiigcr than
J-Jacon, WHS in dail}' cxjicctation f.f l)clng made Seer<tai-y (d'
State. 'J'he blot was ton Mlrvious to lie mis^-cil bv I'lssex, who

EVENINGS WITJI A HE VIEWER. 7!J

seldom forebore to speak his mind. 'I have made no search,'
said he, ' for precedents of young men who have filled the office
of Attorney ■'General. But I could name to you, Sir Eobcrt, a
younger man than Francis, less learned and equally inex-
perienced, who is suirjg and striving with all his might for an
office of far greater weight,' Sir Eobert had nothing to say but
that he thought his own abilities equal to the place ho hoped to
obtain; and that his father's long services deserved such a mark
of gratitude from the Queen ; — ^as if his abilities were compar-
able to his cousin's, or as if Sir Nicholas Bacon had done no
service to the State."

There again — a small piece of injustice done in passing
to Cecil. It is true that he pleaded his own competency for
the place (and there is no doubt that he was competent),
and his father's long services (which were in one respect at
least distinguished above those of Siv Nicholas, inasmuch as
they had lasted fifteen years longer), but this was neither
all nor the principal part of wliat he had to say in favour of
his pretensions, and as distinguishing his case from Bacon's.
The main points which he urged, according to the report
from which the narrative is drawn (wliich is the report of an
opponent, coming as it does from Essex himself through a
friend of the Bacons, and follower of the Earl), were tlie
school he had studied in, the great wisdom and learning of his
schoolmaster, and the ixiins and ojjservations he daily ixissed in
that school. He had in fact from his earliest youth been in
special training under his fatlier's eye for this very place ;
his capacity for it had been actually tried and proved ; and
liis whole mind Avas devoted to tlie business and duties of it.
Xo such points could be alleged in favour of ]jaeon. Bacon
had not had the advantage of any special training for
Attorney-General, or of any such experienced schoolmaster.
He had not had opportunities either of practising or of
])roving his qualifications for it. His head was known to be
full of other things. His qualifications as a lawyer were held
cheap by the most learned lawyer of the time, and were
indeed fairly questionable. The gcnieral opinion was (accord-

80 IlVfxixgs with a heviewer.

ing to the reviewer himself) that they were superficial.
Now if this had been true (and it was very natural that
(^■ecil should believe it, though I do not), there would really
have been no analogy between the two cases. Ixicon's case
would have come nearer to Cecil's if Sir Nicholas had been
Attorney-General for the twelve years preceding, and he had
been Sir Nicholas's devil.

I am still carping at small things, you see. But it is the
small contributions that make the great sums. — Well ?

" Cecil then hinted, that if Bacon would he 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 what I must have. And in
that I will spend all my might, power, authority and amity ; and
with tooth and nail procure the same fur him against whomso-
ever. And whosoever getteth this office out of my hands for
any other, before he have it, it shall cost him the coming by.
And this bo you assnied of, Sir PKibert, for now I Avill fully
declare myself. As for my own part. Sir IJobert, I think
strange both of my Lord Treasurer and you that can have the
mind to seek the preference of a stranger before so near a kins-
man ; 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 couit before Francis, you shall find in all other
respects no comparison wliatever between them.' "

Yes. — liemomltor tluit though 1 do not think it strange
that the Cecils should have thought Coke's claims on tlie
Attorneyship higlier tlian Bacon's, and though I can easily
believe that it would have been more prudent in him to
waive those claims and aspire only to the Solicitorship (and
if so the Cecils were m fact his better friends.) yet I am far
from thinking that his oUi(jatlons to Essex were the less on
that account, d'liat ]'lssex did in fact stand in the way of
liis fortunes, \\hile he was injudiciously endeavouring to
help them on, J am fidly jiersuaded. Ihit his gratitude
was due for the cndonvour, n(it for the issue ; and Bnicon

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 81

himself never dreamed of making any deduction on account
of the ill-success. But why not allow Essex the credit of
superior sagacity in discerning and estimating Bacon's
claims, as well as of eagerness in pressing them ? The
more inexcusable you make out the Cecils to be in not
taking up his cause, the less praise to Essex for taking it
up so warmly.

" AVhen the office of Attorney-General w^as filled up — "
By the by, who after all was appointed ?

No less a man than Edward Coke. He became Attorney-
General on the 10th of April 1594.

Had he any particular connexions with the Cecils?

Not that I ever heard of. I do not even know that the
Ctcils favoured him. I fancy the Queen chose him, as
being the most distinguished lawyer of his time ; which 1
believe he was even then. He was in his forty-third year ;
was at the time Solicitor-General ; had been Speaker of the
House of Commons ; and had in that capacity done some
good court-service by giving the subsidy-bill a lift through
the " subtle putting of the question," — by which according
- to Sir Simonds D'Ewes another division was avoided ; — a
service likely enough to be remembered and to 2)resent
itself to the Queen's mind in contrast with the part taken
by Bacon upon the earlier stages of the same bill. xVnother
motive probably was the wish to show Essex that he was not
master. And a third, perhaps, that she could not quite de-
pend upon Bacon for going her way ; his conduct in tlie last
parliament being still fresh in her memory. The appoint-
ment was a very natural one ; why go so far out of the way
to prove that everybody acted unnaturally? It was natural

VOL. I. G

82 ui'EXiNLii} wrni a hevieweil

and laudable in Essex to desire the advancement of Bacon ;
but there \vas no romantic generosity in it. He was nnder
great obligations to Bacon, though not for money. Bacon
"vvas his ablest, honestest, most industrious, and most afloc-
tionate counsellor; and was daily spending in his service
hours more precious than landed estates. By advancing
him he was not going to lose him, but to strengthen him
for his own help. In fact it would have been very strange
in Essex if he had not done what he could for him. The
more than common generosity apparent in tlie manner of
doing it, was only his way ; it belonged to the natural
impetuosity and intemperance of his character. On the
other hand, that Burghley should tliink the Solicitorship a
point high enough for him to aim at in the first instance
and more likely to be attained, cannot surely be taken as a
proof that he desired to keep him down. And if the Queen
did choose for her Attorney-General the man who was popu-
larly reputed the deepest and soundest lawyer among the
candidates, why should we infer tliat slie was governed by
some malignant influence? — Well? '■' AVhen tlie office of
Attorney-General was filled up — "

" AVlicn the office of Altorney-Goneral was filled up, the
Earl pressed the Queen to make Bacon her Solicitor-General ;
and on this occasion the old Lord Tieasnrcr profci^ed hiiuself
not unfavouraldc to his nephew's pretensions."

1!.

" Professed himself noi unfavourable! " >SureIy he both
professed himself to be, and was, favourable. On tlic 27t]i
of August 151).'] 1k' wrote to Bacon — "I liavf' attempted ti)
place you. But her ^fajesty hath required tlie Eord Keeper
to give to her the names of divers lawyers to be preferred,
wherewith lie made me acquainted ; and I did name yon as
a meet num ; whom liis bordsliip allowed in way of friend-
ship for your father's salce ; but he marie scruple to equal
you with certain whom he named," etc. " But I n-ill continwj

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEIL 83

tlie rememhrance of you to her Majesty, and implore my Lord
of Essex s helj}." — liobcrt Cecil wrote the same day — "To
satisfy your request of making my Lord know how recom-
mended your desires arc to me, I have spoken with his
Lordship, who answereth Jte hath done and will do his hest^
Such was his profession. Is there any reason to doubt the
sincerity of it ? Quite tlie contrary. That he did recom-
mend him to the Queen we have the most unquestionable
evidence, — the Queen's own words upon Essex's relation.
" She said (2Sth March 1594:) none thought you fit for the
place but my Lord Treasurer and myself. Marry, the
others must some of them say so before us for fear or
flattery." x\nd again (18th 3Iay 1594), "She answered that
the greatness of your friends, as of my Lord Treasurer and
myself, made men give a more favourable testimony than
else they would do, thinlung thereby they phased us." And in
the many letters written by Bacon himself during his suit
for this office, there is not a syllable to be found which
implies any doubt of Ikirghley's good-will. The difficulty
here clearly lay with the Queen herself. And she certainly
did use Bacon ill on this occasion.

She was a frugal Queen. She knew that she was sure of
his services, whether she advanced him or not.

Yes. And I admire him for it, but not her. She should
have known better than to keep such a mind as his waiting
upon fortune. There are very few minds that would not
have been ruined by it.

"But after a contest -svliicli lasted more than a year and a
half, and in wliieh Essex, to nse liis own "U'crds, 'spent all his
power, might, anthoiity, and amity,' the place was given to
another. Essex felt llio disappeinfment keenly, Imt found
consolation in the most nmnificent and delicate libci'ality. lie
piesented Bacon with an estate, worth near £2000, situated at

84 j-VExiyas with a hevieweil

Twickenham ; and this, as Bacon owned many years after,
' with so kind and noble circumstances as the manner was more
than the matter.' "

True ; whatever Kssex did was done nobly, lie was a
thoroug]i gentleman. For the thing itself, however. I
must confess it appears to me to have been made more of
than it deserves. During the last five or six years, Bacon
and his brother had been performing for Essex a kind of
services for which a thousand a year would not, now-a-days,
be thought very higli pay ; and for v.hicli he had as yet
received, in money or money's worth, nothing whatever.
Such services were in tliose days paid for by great men not
in salaries but in patronage. They used their influence to
get their adherents good places. This Essex had indeed
most faithfully endeavoured to do for Lacon ; wlio com-
plained of nothing, asked for nothing, and perliaps wished
for nothing. But lie had not succeeded. On tlic contrary
he himself believed (and whether he believed it or not it
was certainly a fact) that he had stood in the way of Bacon's
fortunes. Bacon lost tlie Solicitorship hecause Essex urged his
claims so intemperately. In such a case, what more natural
tlian to feel that ho owed him something? All this time
the bounty of the Queen had been showered most plentifully
upon himself. How much he had received up to this exact
date I cannot say ; but only five years after ho ^vas reckoned
to have had from the (^)ucen (besides t])o fees of liis oflices
and tlio disposition of groat sums in her armies) not less
than .inOOjOUO, — '■ in pure gift for liis only use," Now if he
believed that Bacon's services liad deserved so well of the
State that not to reward liim with a lucrative office Wkv, tliat
of Attorney-({eneral was a great injustice ; — if he liad him-
self rec(fivcd so ]arg(' a share of tliese services; and had at
the same time, for liis own services, received so large a
reward out of the State-coll'ers ; — was it anything so very
extraordinary that he should think JJacou had a 7'iijJit to
some share in that reward? If 1 })erform, with the help of

EVENINGS WITH A EEVIEWEB. 85

my friend, a service for which I receive a hundred pounds
and he receives nothing ; and if I fail to obtain for him an
additional fee proportionable to his labours in the service, —
I can at least give him a share out of mine. Out of every
hundred pounds Essex made Bacon a present of six shillings.
It may have been an unusual piece of generosity, but surely
it was not an extravagant one.

Did Bacon himself put it on tiiat ground ?

By no means. He never (so far as I know) asked Essex
for sixpence. He, as I told you, always gave his services,
never bargained for them or thought of appraising them.
But what he had too much liberality to remember, Essex
had too much liberality to forget. And it is our business
to remember it for liim.

But, before we go further, let me call your attention to
a circumstance which I shall have occasion to remind you
of hereafter. This piece of liberality on the part of Essex
we shall hear a good deal more of. It is the substance
which has been made to throw a shadow over Bacon's whole
character ; and is, I believe, the ground upon which the
popular dislike of him chiefly rests. " The man who had
given him an estate worth nearly £2000, — how could he
ever after say a word against him ? " Xow for my own
part I meet this question by another. When a friend of
mine makes me a valuable present, am I to consider it as
a bribe to buy off my opposition, or fee to retain me as his
advocate in all cases hereafter, how deeply soever I may
disapprove of his future conduct ? He may be impeached
for embezzling the public money, or for selling the public
interests ; I may be in parliament. Am I, because I once
received a present from him, to defend him in parliament,
or even to abstain from speaking against him ? Surely no
man will say so. It is not necessary tliat I sliould exp'esshj

86 EVEXIXGS WITH A BEVJEWEn.

warn him before I accept the favour, that it is not to be
considered as pledging me to follow him, support him, or
shelter him, in courses which I do not approve. All friend-
ships and all mutual duties of friendship are (as a matter
of course) subject to an implied understanding to that effect.
If indeed I accept the favour, knowing or having reason to
suspect that he is about to fall into any such courses, I am
to be blamed for accepting it. But I am not to bo excused
even then for countenancing him when he does actually fall
into them. I shall not mend the first fault by making the
second. My duty to truth and the public good was prior, —
was and is superior, — to any duty I may have subsequently
contracted on account of a private benefit.

Certainly, the second duty must give way to the first.
But was Essex's case one of the character you describe ?

Of that we will speak when we come to it. Essex had
not as yet done anything which could make it wrong in the
most virtuous man to lay himself under an obligation to
him. Yet Bacon does seem even then to have feared tliat
such a thing miglit happen. In a letter to Essex, written
as I conjecture upon the final decision of the Queen to make
Sergeant Fleming her Solicitor, — whether after or before
Essex had given him the Twickenham estate, I cannot say ;
possibly on that very occasion ; — I find these remarkable
words:- — "'For your Eordship, I do think myst'If more
beholden to you than to any man. And I say I reckon
myself as a common ; not jHipular, but common : and as
mucli as 'is Javful to le enclosed of a common, so much your
Eordship shall be sure to have:" — clearly intimating that
he could not bind himself to any man for services incom-
[tatiblc with his ]>ublic duty. 1 could quote other passages
in his letters to Essex, wiitten aU)Ut or soon after this tim(%
which point to the possibility of such a case arising. Jhit
what I want especially to call your attention to at this point

EVFNINGS WITH A BE VIE WEI?. 87

is the express warning which Bacon gave to Essex upon the
occasion of this very present of the Twickenham estate,—
which he has fortunately recorded.

Did he record it at the time, or afterwards ?

Afterwards, and from recollection. And therefore some
people may suspect his testimony as that of a man telling
his own story. Therefore it was that I quoted the letter
first, which was written long before he had anything to
explain or excuse, and has been preserved by accident, —
not by any care of his own. I think you will see that there
is a natural coincidence between the two, which is the best
evidence of the accuracy of tlie story, to which I want you
now to listen. In his " Apology," after mentioning his own
labours in Essex's service, he says, " And on the other hand,
I must and will ever acknowledge my Lord's love, trust,
and favour towards me ; and last of all his liberality ;
having enfeoffed me of land which I sold for £1800 to
Mr. Reynold Nicholas, and I think was more worth ; and
that at such a time and witli so kind and noble circum-
stances, as the manner was as mucli as the matter ; which,
though it be but an idle digression, yet because I am not
willing to be short in commemoration of his benefits, I will
presume to trouble your Lordship with relating to you
the manner of it. After the Queen had denied me the
Solicitor's place, for the wliieh liis Lordship had been a
long and earnest suitor on my behalf, it pleased him to
come to me from Richmond to Twickenham Park ; and
brake with me and said : — ' ^h\ Bacon, tlie Queen hath
denied me yon place for you and hatli placed another ; I
know you are the least part of your own matter ; but you
fare ill because you have chosen me for your mean and
dependence ; you have spent your time and thoughts in
my matters : I die (these were his very words) if I do not
somewhat towards your fortune : you shall not deny to

88 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEn.

accept a piece of land which I will bestow upon you.' j\[y
answer, I remember, was that for my fortune it was no great
matter ; but his Lordship's offer made me call to mind what
was wont to be said when I was in France of the Duke of
Guise, that he was tlie greatest usurer in France, because
he had turned all his estate into obligations ; meaning that
he had left himself nothing, but only had bound numbers
of persons to him. ' Kow, my Lord,' said I, ' I would not
have you imitate his course, nor turn your estate thus by
great gifts into obligations, for you will find many bad
debtors.' He bade me take no care for that, and pressed
it : whereupon I said, ' My Lord, I see I must be your
homager and hold land of your gift. But do you know the
manner of doing homage in the law ? Always it is with
a saving of his faith to the King and his other Lords. And
therefore, my Lord,' said I, ' I can be no more yours than
1 was : and it must be with the ancient savings : and if I
grow to be a rich man, yon will give me leave to give it
back to some of your unrewarded followers.' "

Now if he did say this — of which I have myself no
doubt, for I have not yet been able to detect iiim in a single
inaccurate statement, and it is in perfect harmony with all
that we otherwise know to have passed between them — I do
not see how it was possible to make the conditions upon
which the gift was accepted more clearly and expressly
understood, or how he could have more effectually absolved
himself from any supposablo obligation to follow Essex
where he could not follow him without sacrificing what he
not only held but professed to liold a jjrior and superior
duty. Whether such a dilemma actually arose or not, I am
not now inquiring. The particular case we will consider
when it comes before us ; but in the mean time wo may as
well agree as to the principle. What say you ?

What, whether the receiving of a favour from a friend
binds you to him for evil as well as for good? Of course

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 89

not. Is not there a story somewhere m the " Spectator " of a
young man whose duty it was to defend his father in a bad
case ?

Yes, He blushed or burst into tears, I think, and so
tlirew the case up ; the severest thing he could have done :
and he is always quoted as an example for other young men
to follow. Well, that is a case very much in point. xVnd if
you and I agree so far, I can hardly doubt that we shall
agree further. But for the present we may as well stop
here ; it being the close of one of the most tiresome chapters
in Bacon's actual life, and one which you must have found
very tiresome in the discussion.

You said, I think, that he attached himself to Essex,
before he had any reason to doubt the favour of Burghley ?

Undoubtedly.

And that he warned Essex in a pointed manner of the
limits to which his attachment could go ; as if he feared
even then that he might get into mischief ?

At this time, the autumn of 1595, he certainly did. Tli!^
letter which I quoted is enough to prove that, even if you
doubt the trutli of the narrative which I have just read.
How soon he began to entertain such an appreliension I
cannot say. 3Iost likely it came upon him gradually, as he
observed the growing impetuosity, ambition, imprudence,
and inconstancy of Essex's character, and saw that, thougli
he listened patiently and freely to advice, ho did not mend
by it.

90 EVEXIXGS WITH A P^EVIEWEU.

Then Avhcn ho first knew him, he foresaw only his risino;
influence and gi'eatne.-s, I suppose ; and attached himself to
him as the most powerful patron.

r>.

Eather, I should think, as the man with whom he had
naturally the g-reatest sympathy, and whom he thought
most likely, should he attain great po\\er (which he had a
fair path ojicn for), to make a great use of it. Essex was
then only two or three and twenty. He had all the rudi-
ments of a truly great character, and his faults were, or
seemed to he, only the faults of youth. But as a jxdron, as
an advancer of other men's fortunes, he was not at all likely
to supersede Burghley. He was the prime personal favourite
at Court, and personal favours and honours were likely to be
lavished upon him : but it was well known (and to nobody
better than to Bacon) that Elizabeth, whatever else she
allowed her favourites to do, never allowed them to govern
her, or to govern for her. Whomsoever she kept about her
for amusement, pleasure, or affection, she always recurred to
Burghley for advice. That Bacon thought his personal
fortunes would grow faster under Essex's patronage than
under ])urghley's it is very hard to believe.

You do not mean that in transferring himself to Essex,
he -was consciously and deliberately making a sacrifice of
them ?

B,.

I do not say that: — though I believe he was capable of
such a thing. ]5ut there was no occasion for it here. He
was not called U])ou, in (h'Voting hiin.self to ]*'ssex, to sacri-
fice his interest with Burghley. ]\v never quarrelled with
Burgliley : and though he could not but know that in at-
taching himself so afl'ectiojiately to a yeung and formidable

F.VENINGS WITH A HE VIE WEB. 91

rival lie was not likely to improve his relations with him, he
never considered himself as detached from him. All I say
is, that if Bacon's solo object of ambition had been the
advancement of his own personal fortnnes, he would have
had the wit to stick to Burghley. But on the other hand,
for that which really was the object of his ambition, — for
the realization of his great visions of reform in Philosophy,
in Letters, in Church, in State, — Essex, when he first
appeared in court, must have seemed like an instrument
sent from heaven, AVith a heart for all that was great,
noble, and generous ; an ear open to all freest and faithfullest
counsel ; an understanding to apprehend and appreciate all
wisdom ; an imagination great enough to entertain new
hopes for the human race ; without any shadow of bigotry
or narrowness ; without any fault as yet apparent except a
chivalrous impetuosity of character, — the very grace of
youth, and the very element out of which, when tempered
by time and experience, all moral greatness and all extra-
orilinary and enterprising virtue derive their vital energy ;
— he must have seemed in the eyes of Bacon like the Hope
of the World. Burghley was but the experienced pilot
who thoroughly understood the navigation of the narrow
seas ; Essex was, or seemed to be, a commissioned genius
for the discovery of new regions. What Burghley had in
him was known, and no more could be expected from him.
It must have seemed impossible to say what might not be
expected of Essex. The proffered friendship and confidence
of such a man, — what could Bacon do but embrace it as
frankly as it was offered ? Such a friend and counsellor
seemed to be the one thing wliich such a spirit stood in need
of. If Essex seemed like a man expressly made to realise
the hopes of a new world ; so Bacon may seem to have been
expressly made for the guardian genius of sucli a man as
Essex.

Well, it sounds all very fine. And I cannot oppose to
your doctrine anything better than the inertia of a sus-

92 ' EVENIXGS WITH A BF.VIEWEB.

pended judgment. Macaulay had it all his own way before ;
now you have it all your own way. So my only chance is to
be resolutely sceptical.

Be so by all means as long as you can. I shall have you
on my side presently. In the mean time I ask neither credit
nor favour. Your ear and your understanding are all I
stipulate for.

They will both be at your service to-morrow. Just now
they are both inclined to sleep.

EVENING THE FOUETII.

As we seem to have come to a landing-place, we had
better perhaps, before we go further, look back a little and
see where we are.

We left off, I think, in the autumn of 1595 ; Bacon being
in his thirty-fifth year ; rising in reputation every way ; a
Bencher of Gray's Inn for the last nine years, —

Yes, and a Reader too. He was appointed Header in
1588 ; — and during the last three or four years he had dis-
tinguished himself as a Pleader in two or tJiree important
causes —

— Highly recommended to the Queen by Burghley, Essex,
and Sir Thomas Egerton, and by the general opinion of the
Bar, as a fit candidate for one of the most important places
in his profession ; — by the Queen herself trusted, employed,
and distinguished ; — knight of the shire for Middlesex and
eminent as a speaker in Parliament ; — but still very much
embarrassed in his circumstances ; as yet without any
lucrative office ; and just relieved by a final disappointment
from a most wearisome suit, in which he has been tempted
on by continual delusive encouragement for two years and
a half—

94 EVEXJXGS WITH A EKVlEWEll.

— A suit (you may add) which he has been prevented by an
express prohibitii)]i from the (^ueen herself from forsaking
nearly a year ago, and settling himself to inore congenial
pursuits upon a scanty independence. For it is clear that
this was his deliberate intention in January 1504-5, as
imparted not only to the Earl of J-^ssex l)ut to his own
brother, in a letter which is evidently conlidential.

And ho is still on good terms with Burghley, and re-
ceiving great favours from Essex, and repaying them with
services of the most im}iort;'.nt character, — services (you
say) undertaken as much witli a view to the public good
as from interest or af lection ; and not extravagantly re-
warded by a piece of land worth more than £1800.

Certainly. A\"itli(ut at all undervaluing Essex's gene-
rosity, I hold that it left l>acon (especially as accompanied
\\'\X\\ that express and prophetic warning) j»erfectly free to
do whatever he bcdieved his public duty rerpiired.

Anything else ?

J I.

You cannot uiidcrstand his position luilv, witliout taldni;
into account his vic\\s and fc(di]igs with regard to ]'olitics
and rhilosophy ; the interests of his country and the in-
terests of his kind. l]ecausc (howevi'r strange it mav seem
now-a-days that a man should d('V(»t(,' liimsdf to the public
service frtim any other motivt; than })rivat(' interest) I am
convinced that if \o\\ could liave .seen into Ids mind duriu"-
the.-e years, you would have found that in the secret aspira-
tions of his lieart thcc things were to thos(,' but as Xha

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 95

means to the end ; — the advancement of his private fortune
and name, the means ; his end, the advancement of his
kind among the creatures and his country among the
nations.

For in the first phTce witli regard to his country, you are
to remember that btjth Church and State were still among
the breakers ; the Protestant religion exposed to the attacks
of a formidable league from without, under the disadvantage
of dissensions witliin ; the civil government beginning to
shako under the rising spirit of discontent and innovation,
wdiich in less than fifty years after did actually overthrow
it; each in danger from whatever endangered the other; — ■
and that too with the present prospect of a struggle for
ascendency among the court factions during Elizabeth's life,
(for Burgldey could not live long,) — and a disputed suc-
cession and struggle for the crown itself upon her death,
which could not now be far off; — and if a man would be
ready to take the command in case of danger, he must be
prepared for it (you know) by rank as well as by ability : —

And in the next place witli regard to the advancement
of the human race among the creatures, you must not
forgot that the " Instauration " wliich Bacon looked forward
to, was anything rather than a matter of talk and specu-
lation that might be delivered as well as conceived in a
l)rivate man's study. The Temporis Partus Maximus — the
design with which he had been labouring from his youth —
was a thing, as even then he conceived it, not to bo brought
about by the labours of a single man, much less of a needy,
obscure, and friendless man ; but one tliat rerpiired the
world for an audience, nations for fellow-labourers, princes
for patrons and paymasters. For tliis, as for all jiurposes
of honourable ambition — but especially for this, which from
first to last was his great ambition of all, — civil greatness, —
tlie power of speakin.g from a far-seen and commanding
jKjsition,— was an important, almost an indispensable, con-
dition. And it fortunately happens that fragments of his
actual labours during these years have been preserved
(though for the most part not by his own care) sufficient

9G EVEXiXGS wrni a heviewku.

to show that in these things he Avas no idle dreamer or
wisher, but an assiduous hibourer and a diligent watcher
lor opportunities to give affairs an impulse in the right
direction.

For his great enterprise upon the kingdoms of Xature, —
an enterprise for no less an object than the recovery to Man
of what he believed to be his lost birthright, — it was neces-
sary not only to conceive the plan of operations but to
muster the forces. And accordingly we find him at the age
of twenty-four composing the Temporis Partus Maximus ;
a composition of which (though it be lost, or rather absorbed
in the works of his maturer age) we know thus much, that
it was a rudiment or first sketch of the great design. And
not many years after we find him looking about for means
to set the work on foot. " I have taken " (he writes to
l>urghley in 1591) "all knowledge to be my province.
And if I could purge it of two sorts of rovers, whereof the
one with frivolous disputations, confutations and verbosities,
■ — the other with auricular traditions, and blind experiments
and impostures, — hath committed so many spoils ; I hope
I should bring in industrious observations, grounded con-
clusions, and profitable inventions and discoveries ; — tlio
best state of that province. This, whether it be curiosity,
or vain-glory, or nature, or, if one take it favourably,
]^jhilanthroi)la, is so fixed in me as it cannot be removed.
And I do easily see that place of any reasonable counte-
nance doth bring commandment of more wits than of a
inan's own, which is the thing I greatly affect." And in-
deed what other chance had he of obtaining the requisite
co-operation? For who was young I'rancis Bacon that lie
should undertake to set right the wtjrld ? ].ong after, wlu-n
he had made himself known through all Jjirope as the
ablest man living, the popular impression with regard to
his philosophical speculations N\as only tliat he had "a
feather in his head." >So his designs for the g(jod of man-
kind were not a pretence or a dream, but a thing wliich he
was really about.

Then for the services whicli he could in those daws

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER . 97

render to the State, — they must have been for the most
part done in Parliament, the records of which are scanty,
imperfect, and inaccurate ; or in private advices and me-
morials, of which few have been preserved ; or in personal
conferences with the Queen, of which wo know nothing but
that she was in the habit of consulting him. Some foot-
prints, however, remain from which we may gather the
spirit in w'hich he worked, the manner in which he watched
for and used opportunities, and the general character of
the policy which he advocated and would have carried into
operation had he had the powder to direct.

The great political problem of the time was to keep the
several orders of the State in harmonious co-operation with
each other ; the nation at unity with itself ; to reconcile the
authority of the Crown with the liberty of the subject. And
accordingly we find him always acting not as a partisan but
as a mediator ; always forward in advocating a course which
shoukl prevent any too curious inquiry into the exact limits
of the power of either party ; persuading the Commons on
the one hand to abstain from anything which should seem
to pretend a limitation of the regal prerogative ; the Crown
on the other from anything which should provoke the
Commons to try the extent of their privileges. Were there
grievances? Turning to the Commons he said, — Petition
for the redress of them as a favour, do not demand it as a
right. Turning to the Crown he said, — Kemove the griev-
ance, and the question of the right will not be raised.
AVere reforms called for ? Let the Crown itself be the
reformer. Take away the strength of the popular party
by doing their work for them. Ke-compile the laws. Pe-
move abuses. Do justice. Eeward merit. Advance honesty
and ability.

Another difficult problem of the time was how to deal
with the then formidable body of Koman Catholics. And
on this point (if I am right in ascribing to Bacon a tract
which has been very improbably ascribed to Burghley) we
are fortunate in having a record of his sentiments at a very
early period. This tract was written at a time when the
VOL. I. n

98 El'EXJXGS WITH A IIEVIEWEH.

life of the Queen was iu continual danger from the plots of
that party. And what was his advice ? This, in sum : —
Remove as much as possible all reasonable occasions of
discontent : Take away their weapons of offence ; but avoid
troubling their fortunes or their consciences so long as their
consciences do not require them to trouble the State : liclax
the rigour of the oath ; let them swear that they will resist
a foreign invader ; do not ask them whether the Pope lias
a riglit to invade ; it is enough if they are true subjects in
j)ractice, do not insist upon points merely theoretical : Let
no man have the credit of martyrdom or of suffering for
conscience-sake : Seek to diminish their numbers by setting
on foot a better system of education, and by encouraging-
zealous and persuasive preachers.

A third difliculty, closely connected with tlie last, was
how to counteract the impression produced upon the dis-
contented party both at liomc and abroad, by the many
libels and false statements whicli were in circulation, charg-
ing the Government with oppression and injustice. In
what manner lie proposed to deal with these, wo know from
liis " Observations on a I.ibol published in 1 592," and from
Walsingham's '■'Letter to Critoy," which was drawn up and
probably suggested by him. His method was simply to
set forth in semi-official style, plain, unvarnished, historical
statements of tlie course wliich had really l)een pursued,
with the grounds of it ; — confronting the falsehood \\\\\\ the
trutli ; a service for which in all cases his pen appears to
have been ready: and I am not aw;trc tliat in any of his
many writings of this kind, a single I'alse statement has as
yet been detected.

A fourth problem of th(; time, which lu; appears to have
liad dee[ily at heart, was the reconcilenK-nt of Church con-
troversies. And upon this we have an exposition of his
views at large about the year 158!) ; in which he marches
up so directly to the seat of the disorder, — i>oints out tin;
sources, mischiefs, and remedies of all })arty dissension, and
urges the duty of mutual justice, tenderness, })ublic sj)irit,
self-review, and self-reformation on either side, with a

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEB. 09

reason so unanswerable and in a spirit so modest, earnest,
serious, and persuasive, — that if every man were to read it
through before he took up his pen or opened liis mouth
upon a party question of any description, I believe the face
of Christendom would visibly change for the better. And
in this no one can pretend to say that he had any personal
interest, in the vulgar sense of the word ; for it was out of
the line of his own profession, therefore could not lead to
the advancement of his private fortunes ; he was not called
upon to say a word about it either way ; and what he did
say was (as he well knew) not likely to ingratiate him
either with the Bishops or the Puritans, — to promote either
his favour with the Court or his popularity with the multi-
tude : only he trusted that it '* might find a correspondency
in their minds which were not embarked in partiality, and
which loved the whole better than a part ; wherefore he was
not out of hope that it might do good ; at the least he
should not repent himself of the meditation."

But perhaps of all the particular reforms then under
consideration, that which he had most at heart was a reform
in the state of the Law. And in this also we have proof
that he was a diligent labourer according to his means and
opportunities. At the opening of the Parliament which met
in February 1592-3, the Lord Keeper had declared, as from
the Queen, that " it was not called for the making of new
laws or statutes ; for that there was already a sul^ticient num-
ber both of ecclesiastical and temporal : and so many were
there, that rather than burthen the subject with more to
their grievance, it were fitting an abridgment vjere made of
those there ivere alreadu'' Of tliis declaration (though it
may seem to have been intended rather to discourage the
Commons from meddling than to intimate any real design of
the kind) Bacon immediately took advantage to enlarge
upon the importance of such a proceeding. Nothing is
preserved of liis speech but the first few sentences, and they
are inaccurately reported. But from the tenor of these it is
easy to see that his aim was to present the subject in the
same li^rht in which all throufrh his life he continued, as

100 i;V£NIXGS WITH A REVIEWER.

opportunities oftered, to urge it u})ou the attention of tlie
legislature ; the same in which thirty years after he pressed
it upon the King ; proposing in the leisure of his fallen
fortunes to undertake the task himself, and only laying it
aside because he could not, in those deserted days, obtain
the countenance and assistance requisite for the completion
of it. An abridgment and digest of the Law, however,
must necessarily have been the work of many hands, and he
could at this time do no more than urge the undertaking
and offer his own help. This he did, not only in tlie speech
to which I have alluded, but shortly afterwards in a letter to
the Queen herself (8th of January 1590-7), in which lie
says : — '' But I am an unworthy witness to your 3Iajesty of
an higher intention and project, botli by that which was
published by your Chancellor in full Parliament in the 35th
year of your happy reign, and much more by that I have
been vouchsafed to understand from your 31ajesty, importing
a purpose for these many years infused in your 3Iajesty's
sacred breast, to enter into a genora.l aniendnient of the
state of your laws and to reduce them ti) more brevity and
certainty, that the great holhn\ness and unsafcty in the
assurances of lands may bo strengthened; the snaring
penalties that lie upon many subjects removed ; the execu-
tion of many profitable laws revived ; the judge better
directed in his sentence, the counsellor better warranted in
his counsel; tlie student eased in his reading; the con-
tentious suitor that seeketh but vexation disarmed, and the
honest suitor that sceketh but to obtain liis riglit relieved;
— which purpose and intention, as it did strike me with
great admiration ^^hen I heard it, so it must bo aeknow-
ledjred to be one of the most chosen works, of hiuliest merit
and beneficence towards the subject, that ever entered into
the mind of any King And though tliore bo rare pre-
cedents of it in Government, as it comcth to pass in things
so excellent, there being no precedent full in view but that
of Justinian, yet I must say as Cieero said t(» Casar, Xil
vulgare te dignuui viderl j>o(c^f ; and as it is no doubt a
precious seed sown in your 31ajesiy's heart by the hand of

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEB. 101

God's Divine Majesty, so I hope in the maturity of your
IMajesty's own times it will come up and bear fruit." — But
though towards a work of this nature he could not of himself
do more than urge the undertaking of it, something towards
the improvement of the Law he could do without help.
And it was on this occasion that he composed that specimen
of a collection of " Maxims of Law," i.e. " the rules and
grounds dispersed through the body of the laws," which was
printed after his death. This is in fact an essay towards
that very " Treatise de Begidis Juris," w^hich twenty years
after he pointed out as a desideratum, — a thing " the most
important to the health and good institutions of any laws" —
which he was himself then going on with, and which ho
hoj)ed, when completed, (which however it never was,) would
make it a question with posterity whether he or Sir Edward
Coke were the greater lawyer. For what reason, or by what
mischance, a work of which he thought so highly, both as to
its object and its execution, was not more carefully preserved
among his papers and bequeathed to tlie care of a comjDetent
editor, I cannot guess. It was not published till four or five
years after his death, and was then sent into the world with-
out so much as a publisher's preface to say how the printer
came by the manuscript, or in what condition it was left.
It may be that what we have is more than that which he
presented to Elizabeth in 159G ; it may be all that he ever
completed of it, and in the shape in which he ultimately left
it. From a passage in the preface to the paper as originallv
drawn up, it would seem that the expositions of the "Maxims"
were then written in Law-French, which they are not in the
tract as we have it ; and he says himself in 1616 that it was
a work in which he had himself travelled "at first more
cursorily — since more diligently.'' So it may be that the
publisher had it in its latest shape. One cannot tell. But
for our present argument the question is not material.
Anyhow, the " letter dedicatory " and the preface remain as
a sufficient proof that at this time he was actually labouring
in this field. He had collected three hundred maxims, and
had set forth a few of them in such form and witli such ex-

1(j2 evexixgs with a bevieweb.

positions as m'glit serve for a sample of tlie work which he
meditated and recommended. It is possible that the opinions
of those persons to whom the sample was submitted dis-
couraged him from proceeding at that time : for I suppose
lawyers were always lawyers : the Queen may have asked
her Attorney-General what he thought of it. And even the
worth of it as it stands, and the value of the design, our
modern authorities may possibly hold clicap. All I wisli
you to bear in mind at present is, that in this as in all other
departments he was working hard to supply by his own
industry whatever he thought his country stood most in
need of.

How far he succeeded in furthering these various views
and objects, I cannot say. But if he failed, it was only for
want of that vantage-ground of power and reputation to
which he aspired. AVhatever he went out of his path to do
or to advise tended that way ; and nothing that he did
tended any other way. Therefore when he professes to de-
sire advancement that he may be able to do his country
service, you cannot treat it as a mere colour and pretence on
his i)art ; nor is it a gratuitous and groundless assumption
on mine when I say that this was the primary motive of his
ambition. I do not say that he had not other motives,
besides, supplementary and collateral. To be able to pay
his dibts without sacrificing his leisure or selling his in-
heritance, was one motive. To have the pleasure of seeing
his talents and industry bear their proper fruit was another.
And so on. Every advantage which his course led to was
in some sense a motive, — that is, he foresaw it and wished
for it. But when I see that a man cannot serve his country
without rank and power, and that what rank and power lu^
has lie does use for the good of his country, I give him
credit for desiring the rank in order that he may do the
good.

But A\here do you find all this? for the reviewer says
notliinji; ab(jut it.

EVLWIXGS WITH A RFA'IEWEn. 103

You will find it iu the Parliamentary Journals, and the
tracts which I have mentioned ; — scanty and imperfect
records, I grant ; wliere the intention and the purport must
sometimes be gathered by inference and presumption. But
the foot-prints (as I call them), though few and scattered,
lie all iu one direction. Not one that I can find or hear of
points any otlier way. Therefore I presume that was the
direction in which lie was going.

Well, at any rate one cannot reasonably quarrel with a
man for desiring to rise in his profession, so long as he uses
no unfair means ; or for seeking place and power so long as
he makes no ill use of them.

But now let us see what more the reviewer has to say.

" 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 Avas translated into Latin,
French and Italian; and it seems at once to have established
the literary reputatiun of its author."

Yes ; it was popular in England from the first, and may
possibly have "established his literary reputation; " though
in an ase when there were no reviews and no circulating
libraries, it was not so easy to say whose literary reputation
was established, and whose not. The iranslations were not
made till long after his reputation had been established ou
quite other grounds. The earliest was the French, in IGl 8, —
long after the publication of the "Advancement of Learning,"
the " Wisdom of the Ancients," and the second edition of the
" Essays " themselves ; — after he had become celebrated both
in Parliament and in the Courts and in the Star Chamber
as the greatest orator of his time ; after ho had been succes-

104 EVEXINGS WITH A llEVIEWEn.

sively Solicitor-General, Attorney-General, Privy Councillor,
Lord Keeper, and Lord Chancellor ; — after the " Cogitata et
Visa" and other rudiments of the Instauratio Magna had
been, though not published, yet circulated privately among
the learned men both in England and abroad. Tlie trans-
lation into Italian was published in the year following ; and
the translation into Latin (which had been prepared under
his own direction a year or two before his deatli) was not
published during his life. So that you see even in a trifle
like this, your friend cannot state tlie case with real fairness;
but must still be putting distant things together in order to
produce a false show of vigour.

Well, never mind all that. No doubt the " Essays " con-
tributed to increase Bacon's reputation.

" But though Bacon's reputation rose, his fortunes were still
depressed; he was in great pecuniary difficulties; and on ono
occasion was arrested in the street at the srvit of a goldsiuith fox
a debt of oOOl., and was carried to a sponging-housc in Coleman
Street."

True. And it will be as well to remember this, if the
question should arise whether advancement in his profession
was an object of real importance to him or not. Even a
philosopher, wdien he is in debt, must be allowed to work
for money. This, by the way, was in 1598,

"Tlio kindness of Essex was in tlie mean time indefutio-able.
In lo9G he sailed on his memorable expedition to the coast of
Spain. At the vciy moment of his embarkation he wrote to
several of his friends, commending to them duriii"- his own
absence the interests of Bacon."

True again. This was in contemj^lation of a vacancy in
the Mastership of the Bolls, Sir Thomas l^gerton, who then

EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWEB. 10.')

held it, having been newly advanced to be Lord Keeper.
Bacon's friends hoped to procure this office for him ; and a
great pity it was that they did not succeed. But Egerton
continued to hold both. Bacon, it is to be observed, did not
make any application for it on his own behalf.

Is it known that he did not, or merely not known that
he did ?

As far as a negative can be proved in such a case, I think
one may say it is known that he did not.

And why not ?

I suppose he thought that, as his circumstances and
qualifications were known to all the parties concerned, it
would be offered to him if he were thought fit to hold it.
He had nothing to say for himself except what they all
knew.

" He returned after performing the most brilliant military
exploit that was achieved by English arms during the long
interval which elapsed between the battle of Agincourt and that
of Blenheim. His valour, his talents, his humane and generous
disposition had made him the idol of his countrymen, and had
extorted praise even frum the enemies wdiom he had conquered.
He had always been proud and headstrong, and his sj)lend!d
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 lo a widow of the name of Hatton.
The eccentric manners and violent temper of this w^oman made
her a disgrace and torment to her connexions. 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 ardour. The letters which the Earl ad-

lOG EVENIXGS WITH A BE VIE WE J^.

dressed to Lady Ilatton and lier mother are still extant, and are
liiglily lionourable to liim. ' If (lie wrote) she were my sister or
my daughter, I protest I would as confidently resolve to further
it, as I now persuade yon.' And again, ' If my faith ho an}'-
thing, 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 was
indeed kind to him in more ways than one. She rejected him,
and she accepted his enemy. She married that narrow-minded,
Lad-hearted pedant, Sir Edward Coke, and did her Lest tu
make him as misoraLle as he deserved to Le."

Have you any objection to any of tliis ?

Ko. I never interfere with matrimonial arrangements, (tr
with quarrels between man and wife. Sir Edward Coke and
Lady Hattou were a rough, wrangling couple. But one doeP:
not know what either of them might have turned out had
they been differently matched. Each of them required a
mate with good temper for two. Lady Ilatton was a woman
of talent, and I believe of beauty ; and might for anything
one can tell have been no bad wife for Bacon, whose charac-
teristic weakness it was to be an over-indulgent master, that
could never find it in his heart to be strict or angry with a
servant. If he could have kept her temper in order fur her,
she would have kept his household and finances in order for
him. But this is an idle speculation. There is no doubt
that Essex's letters on tliis occasion to her father and mother
(for there is none addressed to herself) were in the highest
degree honourable both to himself and liis friend.

" The fortunes of Essex had now reached their heiglit and
Logan to decline, lie possessed indeed all the (jualities that
raise men to greatness rapidly; Lut he liad neither the virtues
nor the vices which enaLle men to retain greatnci-s long. His
frankness, his keen sensiliility to iii;>ult and injustice, were Ly
no means agreeaLle to a sovereign naturally impatient of tippo-
sition, and accustomed during firty years to the nnst extra-

EVENINGS WTTJI A BEVTEWER. 107

vagant flattery and the most abject submission. The daring
and contemptuous manner in wliich he bade defiance to his
enemies excited their deadly liatred. His administration in
Ireland was unfortunate, and in many respects highly blamable.
Though his brilliant courage and his impetuous activity fitted
him admirably for such enterprises as that of Cadiz, he did
not possess the caution, patience, and resolution necessary for
the conduct of a protracted war, — in -which difiiculties were to
be gradually surmounted, in which much discomfort was to be
endured, and in which few splendid exploits could be achieved.
For the civil duties of his high place he was still less qualified.
Though eloquent and accomplished, he was in no sense a states-
man. The multitude, indeed, still continued to regard even his
faults with fondness. But the Couit had ceased to give him
credit even for the merit which he really possessed. The person
on whom during the decline of his influence — "

Wait a moment. For though much of this is true, and
none of it diroL'tly false, yet it is put together so — skilfully
shall I say, or unskilfully ? — that I am convinced it would
convey a Mrong impression as to the occasion and process of
Essex's foil. The last words especially — " during the de-
cline of bis influence " — do not properly describe his case.
His influence did not decline, but fell flat. "When he went
out to Ireland, his influence was at its height. He had
stipulated for larger powers than had ever been given to
any one in such a case ; and all he stipulated for had been
granted. And though the continual delay from month to
month of the enterprise for which he was specially sent
out must no doubt have diminished the Queen's confidence
— (she is said to have exclaimed in anger that "she wns
allowing him a thousand pounds a month to go a progress ' )
— yet his influence can hardly ho said to have declined, till
after the termination of that enterprise in a treaty so dis-
advantageous that it might almost be termed a victory for
the rebels. For it was as late as the middle of July that
he had authority granted him to raise 2000 men in Ireland
in addition to the large force (upwards of 14,000) that had
been sent out with him from England. Upon the failure

108 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER.

of the enterprise, wliicli was in September, he received from
the Queen a severe reprimand and an injunction not to
leave his post witliont leave. By the end of that inonth
he was over in England in direct disobedience to that in-
junction, and committed to his chamber for contempt. This
was the end of his Injiuence. And the period which the
reviewer is going to speak of should properly be described,
not as the decline of his influence, but as the time of his
disgrace. — Well? '•'The person on whom," from the time
when he returned in disgrace, — that is to say, the end of
September 1599, — ^what of this person ?

" The pcrsoa on wLom he chiefly depended, to whom he
confided his perplexities, whose advice he solicited, whose inter-
cession he employed, — was his friend Bacon."

Stop once more. Here again our dates are all in con-
fusion. But this is a more serious matter. There had been
a time when all this was true ; when Essex did, in the
many troubles and reverses which checkered his prosperity,
depend chiefly upon Bacon ; when he confided to him his
perplexities and solicited his advice; and would probably
have emidoyed his intercession had he needed it. But we
happen to know that this kind of confidence had ceased
between them for nearly two years. '"' For some year and
a half before his Lordsliip's going into Ireland," ISacon had
not (as he himself expressly declares) " been called nor
advised with as in former times." Shortly before his going,
Essex did indeed solicit his advice, but altofrether nefrlected
to take it; and tlu're are no traces of any further com-
munication between them until his return. Upon the news
of his return, — sudden, against orders, and with the objects
of his mission all unaccomplished, — Bacon desired to speak
with him ; and again advised him as earnestly and as wisely,
l^it as ineflc'ctually, as before, how to bear himself in this
new conjuncture. Immediately after this interview followed

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB. 109

his restraint (first to his own chamber at Court, then to the
Lord Keeper's, and afterwards to his own honse), whicli
lasted from the beginning of October to the latter end of
July following ; during which time no communication can
well have taken place between them ; for Essex (though ho
seems to have been in secret communication with his dis-
loyal and violent advisers) did not openly converse with
anybody. When at length he was sot at liberty Bacon once
more offered his services, and they were accepted. This
was oil the 20th July 1600. From this time Bacon did
indeed consult with him, advise him, draw up letters for
him, and do his utmost to bring him again into favour with
the Queen. But did Essex on his part open his heart and
confide his perplexities to Bacon ? Far indeed from it !
When he ceased (now some three years ago) to consult with
Bacon, he had begun to open his heart to a very different
set of counsellors, and to meditate designs altogether in-
communicable to an ear like his. What purposes he was
revolving when he undertooh his mission into Ireland, it
would perhaps be rash to pronounce. But there can be no
doubt as to those which he had learned, if not to intend, at
least to entertain, before he came away. There can be no
doubt that, at as early a period as that, he had deliberately
contemplated the alternative of making his peace with the
Queen by force of arms, if he could not do it by force of
argument. He had in fact gone so far as to communicate
to his two most intimate friends (the Earl of Southampton
and Sir Christopher Blunt) a formed intention to land in
Wales with 2000 men and march up to London, gathering-
force by the way. That particular intention he did indeed
by their advice abandon ; but he did not abandon the
general design of using force to regain favour ; and though
he left the companies behind, he took with him the cap-
tains. During the long interval of his restraint in free
custody, with continual hope of being restored to favour, it
is true that he did not attempt any violence. But even
during all that time he appears to have been engaged in
intrigues with a view to some such issue. He even went

110 ^VUNJXGS WITH A IIL VIE WEIL

su far as to enter into negotiations with the King of Scot-
land for the joining of some Scotcli forces with 8000 men
of the Irish army, — to be h\uded by the lielp of Lord
Mountjoy in AVales, — with tlie professed object of com-
pelling Elizabeth to nominate James as licr successor ; a
project which was abandoned, not upon his own better con-
sideration, but because 3Iountjoy, after being appointed to
the charge in Ireland and finding what was to be done
there, would no longer listen to it. And thus by good luck,
tliougli so nuicli combustible matter was lying about, no
fire broke out while he continued under restraint. After
Lis liberation he seems indeed to haye Ijeen willing to take
the chance of what Bacon's good offices might be able to
effei't ; but it was only with the yiew of keeping both issues
of tlie game in his hands, so that either way he might be
a winner. For he neyer shut his ear to his other counsellors,
or abandoned tlie thouglit of usins; force in case he could
not get what he wanted without it. There is yery good
evidence to show that he was engaged in practices fur that
purpose as early as August IGOO, which was the next month
after he was finally discharged frum custody. At this
time therefore, thougli I admit tliat he S(dicited Bacon's
advice and employed his intercession, I utterly deny that
he trusted him, depended upon him, or confided his per-
plexities to him. He iiover confided to him either what lie
had done, or what he was tlicn ineditating to <lo. To Bacon,
almost as mucli as to tlie (^uec.'n, he was playing a ])art.
To Bacon he was the submissive, devout, secluded }>enitent,
desiring only restoration to the (^)ueen's fa^■our. 1"o
Southampton, ^Fountjoy, Blunt, Davors, C'uffe, he was tlie
aspiring malcontent meditating his reinstatement by some
act of violence. And good reason he luid for his dissinm-
latio]). Ivnowing Bacon as ho did and remembering the
constant tcn(»r of his c(junsels, he juust have felt tiiat to
eoniide to him such " ])er[)lexities " as these, \\oul<l be to
break off all intercourse l)etween them at once. He could
not have uttered them for shame. JJacon could not have
listened to them lor horror.

i:vi:Niyas with a iievieweu. lU

You are ready to produce your authorities for all these
statements ?

Quite ready. I rely for all of them upon the evidence
of contemporary documents. But go on now. We shall
probably have to discuss them more in detail presently.

" The lamentable truth must be told. The friend, — so loved,
uo trusted, — bore a princi2:)al part in ruining the Earl's fortunes,
in shedding his blood, and in blackening his memory."

This also we shall have to discuss presently in detail.
Therefore I will let it pass now, — only with an emphatic
contradiction of every proposition which the sentence con-
tains. So far from admitting that Bacon bore a principal
part either in ruining the Earl's fortunes, or in shedding his
blood, or in blackening his memory, — I deny most positively
that Essex suffered any one thing either in purse, person, or
fame, which ho would not have suffered had Bacon never
been born, or even had he joined his party and shared his
guilt,

A-

This might be so, and yet Bacon might be said to have
borne a principal part in the proceedings v.hich had all
tliese results.

As the hangman may be said to bear a principal part in
an execution, though if he threw his part up the execution
would nevertheless proceed. The qualification is surely a
material one; and even in that sense I sliouhl be disposed
to deny that Bacon bore a p'incipcd part in tlie ruin of
Essex. — But go on now ; we will talk of that presently.

]12 EVENINGS Wrril A REVIEWER.

" But let us bo just to Bacon. Wc believe that to the last
lie had no wish to injure Es^ex. Nay, we believe that he sin-
cerely exerted himself to serve Essex so long as he thouglit he
could serve Essex without injuring liiniself."

]].

He served liim mueli lomrer than that. But jro on.

" Tlie advice which he gave to his noble benefactor was
generally most judicious, lie did all in his power to dissuade
tlio Earl from accepting the government of Ireland. ' Eor,'
says he, ' I did as plainly seo his overtlirow chained as it weie
by destiny to that journey, as it is pcjssiblc for a man to ground
a judgment upon future contingents.' The prediction was
accomplished. ]']ssex returned in disgrace. ]5acon attcm])(ed
to mediate between his frieiul and the ()neon ; and avc 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. ITe had to
manage two spirits equally proud, resentful, and ungovernable.
At Essex House he had to calm the rage of a young hero iu-
ccused by multiplied wrongs and Immiliations — "

What wrongs? Only the loss of favonr and influence,
and the restraint of his person (in no liarsli or unusual
manner),— consequent not upon tlic neglect merely of his
instructions and miscarriage of liis undertaking, but U])on
the abandonmcjit of liis jujst in direct disobedience to a
positive command.

" — And thr'ii to pass to ^V]lite]la^l for tlie purjiose of soothing
llic peevishness of a soveieign, wliosc; temper, iieververy gentle,
had been rendeied ]norliidly iiritabh; by age, by declining
licalth, and by the long habit of listening to tlaltery and exact-
ing implicit oliedience. It is hard to serve two masteis."

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 113

Bacon hnd only one master. To serve both the Queen
and the Earl truly and faithfully, wms not hard; for that
which would have been best for each would have been best
for both. It was hard only to obtain acceptance from both
as a true servant.

" Situated as Bacon was, it was scarcely possible for him to
shape his course so as not to give one or both of his employers
reason to complain. For a time he acted as fairly as in circum-
stances BO embarrassing could reasonably be expected."

For a time ? I wish he had stated how long,

" At length he found that while he was trying to prop the
fortunes of another, he was in danger of shaking his own."

At length ? 1 wish he had said how soon. For there
can be no doubt that he saw that danger from the beginning.

'"Ho had disobliged both the parties whom he wished tu
reconcile. Essex thought him wanting in zeal as a friend ; — "

Did he indeed? I never heard that before. On what
ground could he possibly think him wanting in zeal, unless
he thought it the duty of a friend to join him in his con-
spiracy? And though one is obliged to believe many
things of Essex in this unhappy business which one would
gladly think incredible. T still hope that one need not
believe this.

VOL. I. 1

114 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER.

" — Essex thoiiglit him wantinj:^- in zeal as a friend ; Elizabeth
thought him wanting in duty as a suliject. The Earl loukod
upon him as a spy of the Queen — "

Did he ? That again is quite a new siiggostion, and, so
far as I can discover, totally without foundation. No such
suspicion is hinted at anywhere in the correspondence : and
indeed it seems totally incompatible with tlie relation which
at the time we arc speaking of subsisted between them.
The Earl knew him to be a good snhjed of the Queen ;
therefore could not confide to him his own bad thoughts and
purp'oses. But he could not for a moment doubt the earnest-
ness of his desire to effect a reconciliation between the
Queen and him.

" The Earl looked on liiiu as a sp^^ of the Queen, — the Quecri
as a creature of the Earl."

No, no. Not a creature. Such a thought never entered
her head. She thought him too devoted in his attacliment.
Put it tluis. — " The Earl knew that he would be true to the
Queen, — the Queen tliat he would be tonler to the Earl."

"The reconciliation -wliielilic had Ld)onrfd tn effect aj^peared
utterly ]io})eless. A tliousand signs, Icgildc to eyes far less Ivren
than his, announced that tlie fall of his patrt)n was at hand."

I must trouble you again witli datr?>. WJicii did it first
become clear that Essex's fall was at hand ? I doubt whether
there was any time l)efoi'c tlio List fatal outbreak (wliich
overthrew all at once), when Essex had it not in his own
power to recover his favour with the (^ueen. It was only to

EVENINGS WITH A HE VIE WE 11. 115

he what he was trying to seem, — a loyal subject, really sorry
for what he had done ill, and really desirous of doing better.
To be this, and to be quiet, was all the art he needed. It is
true that some three months before his final outbreak, it
had become but too evident that he was not in a temper to
try this plan. And it may be that Bacon at that time
began to despair of effecting the reconciliation for which
he was still labouring. But it is certain that he did not
begin to despair of it earlier than October 1600. Therefore
if 1 consent to let the last sentence pass, it must be as quali-
fied by the addition of this date.

We will date it by all means, if you are sure your date
is accurate.

" lie shaped his course accordingly."

That is to say, — after he saw that the fall of his patron
was at hand (whose fortunes he had hitherto been trying to
prop), " he shaped his course accordingly " — meaning that
he altered his course. Now I wonder in what respect he
altered his course in or about October 1600.

" "When Essex was brought before the Council to answ^er for
his conduct in Ireland, Bacon, after a faint attempt to excuse
himself from taking part against his friend, submitted to the
Queen's pleasure, and appeared at the Bar in support of the
charges."

Hollo ! Where are we now ? Why that was at least
four months ago. That was on the 5th of June 1600, — ■
while Essex was still in restraint, — six weeks and more
before his liberation ; — a time when, so far from thinking
his case desperate. Bacon thought the prospect of a recon-
ciliation more hopeful than ever ; a time when, so far from

116 J1:y£^'JyGS with a reviewer.

Laving failed in his endeavours to bring such reconciliation
about, he had not yet had an opportunity of commencing
them ; when, so far from forsaking Essex's cause, he was
just going to enter upon that course of mediation which the
reviewer has been describing — " honestly employing all
his address " alternately to calm the rage of the young hero
and soothe the peevishness of ihe old Queen, — and getting
looked on for his pains by the one as a spy, by the other as
a creature.

"Well, but he did appear in support of tlie charges
against Essex. You cannot dispute that. And what matters
it whether the act of treachery was committed in June or iu
October ?

If you are sure that it v:as an act of treachery,— nothing.
But if there be any doubt as to the nature of the act, it mav
matter very much. AVhy do you call it an act of treachery ?
Because the reviewer tells you that it was done U[)ou a reso-
lution to new-shape his course when he found that his
friend's fortunes were desperate and his own in dano-er.
But if I can show to the contrary that it was done at a
time when he was not only most in hope of his friend's
fortunes, but actually using his best endeavours, at the
hazard of his own, to re-establ.'sh them, — I sii})p(ise vou will
allow me to doubt whether it was dune with a treacherous
intention. Bacon himself says that he hoped that proceed-
ing belore tlie CVnmcil wonhl be an end of the quarrel
between the Queen and the Earl ; that lie consented to take
a part in it, not only because it was liis dntv to do so if
required ; but because, the better odour he kept in with the
Queen, the more efi'ectually would ho be able to pcrfin-ni
the office of a mediator between them; and that this oflice
he did actually set about the very next day. The reviewer
on the other hand sup})uses that he consented to appear on
that occasion against the I'^arl, not as lioping to serve liis

EVEXIXGS WriH A REVIF.WEB, 117

cause the better afterwards, but as having made up his
mind to abandon it for desperate. Now though we cannot
know Bacon's motives except from himself, we do know that
for three months immediately following he was in fact en-
deavouring all he could to reinstate the Earl in the Queen's
favour, and was in that endeavour risking his own fortunes.
Which of the two will you believe ? Surely you can have
no hesitation in accepting the story with which all the
dates, and all the recorded facts otherwise ascertainable,
agree — which is Bacon's ; and in rejecting that with which
they all disagree, — which is Macaulay's.

You are sure that it was after the proceeding before the
Council that Bacon's attempts at mediation were made ?

Not all of them. He had been making such attempts
according to his opportunities all along. But that the
principal of them were made after, there can be no doubt.
The proceeding before the Council was on the 5th of June,
before Essex was discharged from custody.

And you are sure that his endeavours at mediation
were sincere ?

Essex thought so ; for he employed him as an intercessor.
The reviewer thinks so ; for he says they were such as made
the Queen take him for a creature of the Earl. But the
best evidence is the tenor of the letters which he drew up.
The intention with which they were drawn up speaks for
itself and cannot be mistaken. There can be no doubt
whatever that his endeavours wore sincere. Indeed what
else but a desire not only sincere, but anxious and eager,
to bring about a reconciliation, could have induced him to
meddle in such a matter at all ?

118 EVEXIXGS WITH A BEYIEWER.

Then how after all did these endeavours miscarry ?
When and why did Bacon turn against the Earl ?

How the reconciliation came to miscarry, I am not ?nrG
that Bacon himself could have told you, — more than that it
was by no fault of his. And as for turning against the Earl,
— the Earl, by taking a course Avhich it was utterly im-
possible to defend or excuse, left him no choice. This we
shall come to presently. In the mean time I will trouble you
Avith one more date, which happens to be preserved and
throws some light on the history of Essex's miscarriage ; —
the date, I mean, of that visible change in the Queen's
feelings towards Essex when his restoration to favour began
to seem hopeless, and IJacon's friendly intercessions in his
behalf began to be looked on with dislike and suspicion.
Bacon's own account of the matter is as fullows : — " The
truth is, that the issue of all his dealing grew to this, that
the Queen, by some slackness of my Lord's, as I imagine,
liked him worse and worse, and grew more and more incensed
towards him. Then she, remembering belike the continual
and incessant and confident speeches and courses that I had
hold on my Lord's side, became utterly alienated from me ;
and for the space of at least three montlis which was between
jMichaclmas and New Year's tide fullowing, would not so
much as look on me, but turned away from me witli express
and purpose-like discountenance A\liensocver she saw me ;
and at such time as I desired to speak with her about law-
business, even sent mt; forth with very slight refusals;
insomuch as it is most true that iiumediately after New
Year's tide I desired to speak willi liei'," Sec. ^q. — The date
then of the decided and visible change that 1 speak of was
]\[ichaelmas IfiOO. Niw it s(j liappejis that from independent
sources we kn<jw of some tilings that may helj) to explain
the causes of this chang(^ J'^s-ex had been his own master
since the latter end of Jul v. But to be his own master was

EVENINGS WITH A EEVIEWEn. 119

not enough for him. Ho conkl not bear to be without his
former power and favour. For the recovery of tliese, his
violent counsellors (to whom and not to Bacon his con-
fidence was now given) had urged him to take some decisive
step. But wliile his restoration in ihe natural course of
things (for which he continued to implore the Queen in
letter after letter of most dejected and passionate supplica-
tion) seemed probable, he put off the resolution from day
to day. Wearied at length with the delay, lie had resolved
to take the issue of his suit for the renewal of his monopoly
of sweet wines (the lease of wliich was to expire at Michael-
mas) as an earnest of what he might expect. If it were
granted, he might hope for returning favour ; if rejected, he
would then decide upon some more vigorous course. Soon
after Michaelmas it was finally granted to another. And
before the end of tlie month it appears that a project for sur-
prising the Court and forcibly removing tlie principal coun-
sellors was — if not resolved upon — at least formally discussed
and deliberated. " It is three months or more " (said South-
ampton at the consultation at Drury House, 3rd February
lGOO-1) "since ice undertook this."* Such then being tlie
real state of Essex's mind and intentions at this time, can it
be wondered at that the Queen began to like both him and
his friend worse and worse ? And as for Bacon's " shaping
his course accordingly," — what means had he of " shaping a
course" at all? He could not shape his course so as to help
Es^ex, because Essex was shaping a new course for himself,
which he could not even disclose to Bacon, much less use
his assistance in furthering it. He could not shape his
course so as to mitigate the Queen's displeasure, for the
Queen would not listen to liim. Between Michaelmas and
the day of Essex's insurrection, he had only one interview
with her, which was in the beginning of January. On this
occasion he frankly expostulated with her upon her treat-
ment of himself; and was received (for himself) graciously ;
but could draw forth no word about the Earl. Then it was
that he at last resolved to meddle no more in the matter ;
* Sir r. Gorge's Confession (State Pap. Oil".).

120 EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB.

and the very next month the Earl was up in arms against
her, and the whole face of the matter was chantjod.

These are all the data we have forjudging of tlie spirit
in which he acted and the part he took after the Earl's case
began to seem hopeless ; and I should like to know what
pretence there is fur assuming that up to this period he had
in any way changed his course, or had determined to save
himself at the expense of his friend.

Then you mean to say that Bacon's appearance before
the Council in support of the charges against Essex was in
fact a friendly proceeding ; that his motive was to clear
himself in the first instance of all imputation of partiality,
that he might afterwards plead his cause with the less
suspicion.

I do not say that that was his only motive. There is
hardly an action in any man's life which can be ascribed to
a single motive. AVho can say what his motive for dining
is ? to satisfy his ajipetite, to keep up his health and
strength, to gratify his palate, to do as other people do, —
or merely to do as he has been accustomed. For not re-
fusing to discharge on this occasion the ordinary duties of
his place. Bacon had every motive but one. The single
consideration that might have deterred him was the fear
of unpopularity,— of a false imputation of ingratitude. Of
his many concurring motives, which was the strongest, and
which would hav(! given way in a conflict with the rest, it
is idle to inquire. 'Ihere was here no conflict. AVhether
his desire to serve E-sex was or was not stronger than his
reluctance to lose his inliuMice with the (^)iiecn, there is no
doubt that he did desire to serve him, and there is as little
doubt that the only chance of serving him was to l-eeji his
influence with tlie (^)ueen. Had it been otherwise,— had he
(for instance) been in possession of some secret which his
duty to the Queen required him to disrlose, and the dis-

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 121

closure of which would have ruined Essex— then there
would have been a conflict ; and I do not pretend to say
what he would have done in such a case : probably he did
not know himself. As it was, he could not have done Essex
a worse service than to throw away in an idle ostentation of
magnanimity his opportunities of access and audience at
Court ; these being in fact the only handles by which he
could help him through.

Well, I suppose I must let this go. For certainly upon
your showing I cannot say what better he could have done.

His exertioDS then went on (you say) all that summer ;
and he continued to speak in favour of Essex as long as the
Queen would allow him to speak at all. And there is no
symptom of any change either in his feelings or in his con-
duct towards his benefactor, until now that we are on the
eve of the insurrection. Let us see what the reviewer has
to say of that.

" But a darker scene was behind. The unhappy young
nobleman, made reckless by despair, ventured on a rash and
criminal enterpri«e, which rendered him liable to the liighest
penalties of the law. AVhat course "was Bacon to take ? This
was one of those conjunctures which show what men are. To
a high-minded man, wealth, power. Court-favour, even personal
safety, would have appeared of no account when opposed to
friendship, gratitude and honour. Such a man would have
stood by the side of Essex at the trial, — would have spent ' all
his power, might, amity, and authority' in soliciting a mitigation
of the sentence, — would have been a daily visitor at the cell, —
would have received the last injunctions, and the last euibrace
upon the scallold, — would have employed all the powers of his
intellect to guard from insult the fame of his generous though
erring friend. An ordinary m;in would neither have incurred
the danger of succouring Essex nor the disgrace of assailing
him. Bacon did not even preserve neutrality. He ap2:)eared
as counsel for the prosecution. In that situation he did not
confine himself to what would have been amply sufticient to
procure a verdict. He employed all his wit, his rhetoric and
his learnino; — not to ensure a conviction, for the circumstances

122 EVEXIXGS WITH A REVIEWER.

of the ca.'^e were such that a cnnvicfion was incvitahlc — Lnt to
deprive the iiiihappy prisoner of all tho-^o excuses, which,
though legally of no value, vet tended to diminish the moral
guilt of the crime ; and which therefure, though they could not
justify the peers iu pronouncing an acfjuittal, might incline the
Qiieeu to grant a pardon."

I).

I let you go on tlirough this tissue of loose misrepre-
sentation, because I hoped every moment to hear something
about the real nature of Essex's crime; and how it was riglit
(not how it was " high-minded," but how it was righl) that
it should be dealt with according to justice and policy.
The law against treason was made, I suppose, not merely
to gratify vindictive sovereigns ^itli the death of their
enemies, but for the good of the commonwealth, for the
protection of the State against violence. A true patriotism
enjoins us surely not only to keep the law ourselves, but to
assist in carrying the laws into execution. xVnd thougli
this is a duty from which those who are suspected of a 1)ias
in favour of tlie offender are commonly relieved, yet that
is not because it is not their duty, but because they cannot
be trusted to do their duty. How can you tell what a high-
minded man, standing in Ixicon's position with regard to
Ivsscx, would have done, until you know what it was that
]']ssex had done? Su})pose he had been engaged in a
gunpowder plot ; — would a higli-minded man have thrown
up his oflico rather than assist in the examination and
p)rosecution ? Suppose he had poisoned his friend; — would
a high-minded man have stood by liis side at the ti'ial, and
spent all his strength in soliciting a mitigation (jf the
sentence? It is true that Essex's offence was not so black
as either of these ; but it was something much worse tlian
the reviewer would give yt»u to understand. From his way
of talking you would suppose it \\as a mere burst of im-
patience under cii'cumstances of cxtrenu; })rovocati<in.
"The unliappy young nobleman, made; rocldess l)y des|)aii",
ventured on a rash and criminal enterjirise." Why was
Essex unhap})y ? lie had liberty, leisure, tlie society of

EVENINGS WITH A BETIEWER. 123

liis friends, tlio love of liis countrymen, all the accomplisli-
ments of mind and body, and all the tastes which give
sweetness and dignity to private life ; and if ho ^Yanted
wealth, it was only because he had been so wasteful. Why
unhappy ? Simply because he was no longer a Court-
favourite. — " Made reckless by despair ! " Despair of what ?
Not of life, liberty, fortune, reputation : all these were safe
in his own hands. His despair was only of beiiig restored
to his former greatness at Court.—" A rash and criminal
enterprise ! " Eash enough, no doubt ; and criminal enough.
But was that all ? Surely it deserved some worse epithets
than these. Eash as it was, it was not entitled to any of
the excuses of rashness. It was an enterprise long pre-
meditated ; not undertaken in heat, on the sudden ; an
enterprise Avhich, after cooling in his mind for a whole year,
had been revived three months before upon no greater
occasion than the loss of his monopoly, and during those
three months had been diligently thought on, discussed, and
prepared. — Then as for its criminality and its " rendering
him liable to the highest penalties of the law," surely that
is very little to say of an enterprise which the reviewer
himself described just now as "an endeavour to throw the
whole country into confusion for objects purely personal,"
and which was in fact very likely to lead to a civil war.
Think of the popularity of Essex and his interest with
military men ; thinlv of the power, the resolution, the vigi-
lant policy of Elizabeth, and the zealous and affectionate
loyalty which she had always at command ; think of the
discontented body of Catholics at home and abroad ; — and
then imagine the issue of an attempt to master her person
and force her to change the Government ! It is true that
popular opinion has made very light of this rebellion ; but
that is owing merely to the characteristic levity and
thoughtlessness of popular opinion, which never takes duo
account of dangers escaped. AVe think Essex's insurrection
a small matter, because it was so suddenly and effectually
extinguished ; just as we think little of a spark when we
have trod it out, which might have set the house on fire.

124 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER.

But had Essex been a few hours sooner in striking, or the
Court a few hours hiter in preparing, the whole country
woukl have probably been in a flame.

And now let us consider how Bacon stood. For no
less a crime than this, Essex was to be tried before his
peers. To Bacon's part, as one of the Queen's Learned
Counsel, it fell in the ordinary course of things to set forth
a portion of the case against him. It was as grave, as
impartial, as temperate, as truly judicial a proceeding, as
the records of that time contain. What pretence could he
allege for refusing to take his part in it ? We are agreed
(you and I, at least) that Ids obligations to Essex were not
such as to make it his duty to defend him in a bad cause.
His obligation to the Crown did unquestionably (so long as
he held that office) bind him to assist in the prosecution of
all offences against the State. Upon what pretext could
he decline ? He could not say that it was an offence which
ought not to be proceeded against. He could not say that
the proposed proceeding was in any way unjust, unfair, or
harsh. He could not say that E-sex, if guilty, ought not
to be declared guilty. Did be think there were palliating
circumstances in the case ? He could not dcaiy that the
proper time for bringing them forward was at the trial.
])id he think those circumstances were such as might
properly induce a pardon ? He could not deny that it was
after the trial, not before, that that question ouglit to be
considered. Clearly, the first thing to be done was to dis-
cover the truth ; and what lie had to do was no more than
to set forth truly that portion of the case which was assigned
to him.

I cannot tliink tliat tlioro was any occasion for him to
meddle with tlio matter at alb He ndght easily have got
excused : at any rate he might liave asl-cd to be excused.

I'pon what ground should he have asked ?

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEE. 125

As from a proceeding Mhich involved the life of his
benefactor, and in which his help could not possibly be
needed. There must have been plenty of people to pursue
the case against Essex.

There being no hope for his benefactor, he might have
left him, you think, to his enemies. Why yes, if nothing
had been wanted but to get up a case against Essex, there
were others no doubt who were willing and competent to
make the worst of that. But the legal conviction of Essex
was but a small and incidental part of the business which
lay upon the Government. Care was to be taken for the
safety of the State, which was threatened with a danger of
which no one could guess the extent or imminence. It is
all very well for us, after everything has been found out, to
say there was no danger at all ; but if you want to under-
stand Bacon's position, you must imagine the aspect which
the affair presented on Sunday evening the 8th of February
1600-1. Imagine an enterprise so aspiring and audacious
suddenly bursting forth without any note of warning or
preparation ; an enterprise in which more than a hundred
noblemen or gentlemen of birth and character were en-
gaged ; in which the authorities of the city, if not actually
implicated, were at least so dealt with and appealed to by
the insurgents that it was plain they were by them sup-
posed to be ready to join ; — what could such a tiling mean ?
what had been the beginning of it, what was to be the end ?
how far had it spread ? what secret mines were ready to
burst under their feet ? what secret treason was there in
the heart of the Court upon which the conspirators relied
for aid ? These are the questions which must have agitated
the Council ; for who could have supposed that it would
turn out to be a piece of mere madness, without plan,
bottom, or hope ? Not the conviction of the traitor, but
the discovery of the treason, was the iirst thing needful ;

126 EVENINGS wrrii a beviewer.

not the punislimeut of the incencliary, but the extiuction of
the fire.

It was on "Wednesday the 11th of February, while the
whole affair was an inexplicable and alarming mystery, that
Bacon, along with the rest of that small body of practised
and confidential servants whom Elizabeth kept about her,
received a commission from the Council to examine wit-
nesses with a view to the discovery of the plot.* Upon
what pretence should he have declined to act ?

"Were there not plenty of examiners without him ? lie
was not Attorney or Solicitor ; though one of the Learned
Counsel, he was the least and lowest among them.

He was the least in official rank ; but in investigations
of this kind he was, with one or two exceptions, the most
practised hand among them ; probably without any excep-
tion whatever the most skilful and sagacious. At aiiy rate
he could not have excused himself on account of the super-
fluity of examiners ; for the very letter from the Council
which contained the commission contained likewise; a direc-
tion to the commissioners to divide themselves (on account
of the mimber of examinations to be taken) into parties of
not more than tlirco. It was not a time therefore when tlic
best hand could be conveniently spjircd. The object of the
inquiry was to discover tlie truth. Upon wh.at pretence,
I rej)eat, conld Bacon have asked \o be excused? It
was a service which came strictly within the duty of his
place. And though I do not mean that a man onght to
consider the duties of his })lare as absolutely overruling all
other considerations, — though I admit tluit tlicre may be
cases in whioh. ho ought to resign his place rather than
perform the duties of it, — yet I cannot tliink that lie is at
liberty to do so without a very strong reason, es])ecial]y if
the season bo one of emergency and danger, in which all
* See tht; Letter; Add'. Mh^S. (Brit. Mus.) Xu. 12I'J7.

EVENINGS WITH A HE VIE WEIL 127

bauds are wanted. It is in truth this point of emergency
and danger which lies in the way of a true understanding of
this question. Living as we do in such profound security, —
the Crown as safe from all traitorous attempts (and for the
same reason) as a beggar is safe from robbers, — we cannot
think of treason as dangerous. If a man shoots at the
Queen, we think it right that he sliould be whipped or sent
to Bedlam, but we feel that there is no hurry ; justice may
proceed as leisurely as she likes ; it is but the act of a fool
or a madman, and the only question is, as to the best way of
preventing the example from spreading. Now you must
really endeavour to remember that it was not so in Queen
Elizabeth's time. Upon the continuance of her life and
authority great things depended. The temptation to assail
them, and the danger of assault, were great in proportion.
ConsjDiracics against her life were things of annual occur-
rence. For protection against them she relied not so mucli
on her military guard as on the vigilance of her councillors
and lawyers in detecting the treasons and bringing the
traitors to justice. And no doubt their loyal zeal was kept
by such services in a state of continual excitement, so that
hesitation to act was as much out of the question with them
as with a soldier. Now suppose Bacon instead of being a
law-officer had been an officer of the guard; and when
Essex was coming in strength down Ludgate-hill had been
ordered to charge. Would you have had him say — " No,
he is my benefactor ; he gave me a piece of land ; you have
plenty of people to fight him ; I resign my commission, and
will be only a looker-on " ?

Why no. A soldier could not have said so.

Of course he could not. Nor would any true soldier
have paused to ask himself which side he must take, or
whether he might stand neutral. Now I say that iu tur-

128 EVEMXGS WITH A MEVIEWEB.

biilent times, ^vllich teemed ^vith coiis}>iracie,s open and
secret ; being nevertheless times of peace, uhen the Law
■was the weapon by which they were to be met ; times too
when the divine rig-ht of king's was universally believed in,
and loyalty was felt as a religious obligation ; a sworn law-
officer of the Crown must have felt his charge to be as
definite, as imperative, as paramount, as that of a soldier
upon duty. An order to examine witnesses or to prepare
an indictment was to the one what an order to cliarge was
to the other. Xot to be with the Crown in such a case
would have been to be against it. Nay, setting all that aside.
I doubt whether even as a friend of Essex who would not
willingly believe him guilty of the worst, Bacon would
naturally have luished to decline the duty. So long as
Essex's plans and motives were unknown, it must have been
possible to hope that his case was not so bad as it appeared.
A seasonable question to a witness might have brought out
a palliating circumstance, which an unfriendly examiner,
not looking or wishing for, would have missed. 3b)rcover
the personal relations between the two Bacons and Essex
made it very desirable that somebody in their interest
should have a part in the examinations. A largo part of
Essex's correspondence had for some years passed through
the hands of Anthony Bar-on, and he must inevitably have
fallen under suspicion of being more or less implicated in
the present business. His name u-as brought in question on
that ground.

I do not know that I should object to Bacon's consenting
to take part in the examinations, so long as the object was
to discover the true nature of the conspiracy and make all
things secure. But when all tliat \\as over, — when they
had got to tlie bottom of the business, — when tliey knew
that there was no further danger, and ncjthiug remained l»ut
to punish the delinquents, — I thiidv he might liav(^ with-
drawn himself. They might surely have got some one else
to discharge his part of the plrading against J-hsrx's V\U\

EVENINGS WITH A EE VIEWER. 120

Not so easily perhaps as you think. How long do you
suppose it was before the mystery was all cleared up ? Are
you aware that they did not get to the bottom of it till the
tenth day ? For ten days the examinations had been going
on incessantly with very unsatisfactory results, when at last
some of the principal conspirators were induced to confess
the truth. It is true that their confessions, taken separately
yet agreeing in all material points, made the case clear
enough. But as the trial came on the next day, there was
not so much time as you suppose to cram a new man for
Bacon's part. And I still think that even then it would
have been difficult for him to find a reasonable pretext for
begging off. Nay, I must be allowed to doubt whether
(even then, — even as a friend) he should have wished it.
For though it be true that the confessions had now made
the case against Essex so clear that there could be hardly
any doubt of his guilt ; yet you are to remember that
nobody as yet knew what Essex had to say for himself, or
what line of defence he would adopt. It was not only
necessary, with a view to a just conclusion of the trial, that
the counsel for the prosecution should be perfect masters
of the case ; but for the interest of Essex himself (who
though he could not have escaped a verdict of guilty, might
nevertheless by his demeanour have deserved mercy), it was
most desirable that the prosecution should not be left
entirely in the hands of the most illiberal and merciless and
passionate of all prosecutors — Edward Coke. A tender,
temperate, and skilful speaker, though his office were to
urge the charge home, might nevertheless have done much
to temper and soften it, and moderate the behaviour of the
prisoner. If Bacon had not cared about his duty at all, —
if his entire sympathy had been wdth Essex, and his sole
object to befriend him as far as his case admitted, — I do not
think he could have wished to be released from his share in
the prosecution. Not that I believe that tvas his motive.
I believe he was a true soldier, prepared to defend his posi-

VOL. I. K

130 ^vjsyixos WITH a revieweb.

tion against whomsoever, friend or enemy. But I have no
doubt that he wished Essex to come as handsomely out of
the scrape as he could, consistently with truth and justice ;
and on both accounts, — both as a lover of justice and as a
lover of Essex, — he must have wished to have the oppor-
tunity of speaking. As for standing by the side of tho
prisoner at the trial and soliciting a mitigation of the sen-
tence, visiting his cell, and all that, it is a mere idle flourish.
And I wonder that the reviewer had not too much respect
for his own reputation as a liistorian to indulge in it. He
knows perfectly well that Bacon would not have been per-
mitted to hold any communication with the prisoner, or to
open his moutli in his behalf.

Yes, that is all foolisli enough. And upon your showing
I do not know that his consenting to take his part in the
prosecution can be justly objected to. But what do you say
to the manner in which he did it? You do not mean to
say that his duty to the Crown re(|uired liim to make t]\G
case worse tlian it was ?

Undoubtedly not.

Then how do you justify him iii urging tho case beyond
what was necessary to ensure a conviction, and pleading
away excuses which diminislied the moral guilt of tlie
crime ?

That he pleaded away any true excuses, 1 deny. The
excuses against which he argued were false ; and were
moreover such, that io have admitted them must have
involved an admission tliat the crime liad not been com-
mitted.— But of this presently.

As for pressing tlie case further tlian miglit have been
nf'f'f^ssarT to ensure a conviction, it" you moan thnt \\o

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 131

should have been contented with making out just enough
to bring the offence within the law of treason, — just enough
to avoid the chance of an acquittal, — and should have kept
clear of all those points which indicated the real nature
and magnitude of it ; — I must say that I cannot conceive
a more preposterous position. I can conceive a man dis-
liking the office of assisting in the prosecution of a friend ;
I can conceive him thinking it his duty to decline it. But,
once undertaken, he is surely bound to discharge it (to use
]]acon's own words) " honestly and without prevarication."
And what kind of honesty would it be in a public prosecutor
of a public offence to blink all the circumstances of aggra-
vation ? Not a man w ho followed Essex on that day but
was, according to the letter of the law, guilty of treason ;
but was every man as guilty as he ? or was it fit that, in a
proceerling upon so grave a matter in the highest court of
justice, no distinction should be made between the leader
and the follower, or between a crime of malice and a crime
of madness ? — But let us go on, for as yet we have had
nothing but general assertion. I want to know what these
extenuating circumstances were — these excuses tending to
diminish the moral guilt of the crime — of the benefit of
^hich Bacon laboured to deprive the prisoner.

" The Earl urged as a palliation of his frantic acts that he
was surrounded \>y powerful and inveterate enemies, that they
had ruined his fortunes, that they sought his life, and that their
persecutions had diiven him to despair. This was true, and
Bacon well knew it to be true. But he affected to treat it as
an idle pretence. He compared Essex to Pisistratus, Avho by
pretending to be in imminent danger of his life, and by ex-
hibiting self-inflicted wounds, succeeded in establishing tyranny
at Athens. This was too much for the prisoner to bear. lie
interrupted liis ungi-ateful friend, by calling upon 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 at-serted the truth of what ho
now represented as idle pretexts. Tt is painful to go on with
this lamentable etorv."

lo2 UVENJXGS WITH A HE VIE WEIL

Then let us pause aAvliile, and see if we cannot obtain a
little relief by telling it more truly ; for a more monstrous
misrepresentation I never heard.

In the first place, Essex pleaded the persecutions of his
enemies, not in palliation of a frantic action, but in justifi-
cation of a deliberate action mIucIi ho came prepared to
avow and defend. Had he acknowledged his guilt and
excused it as a short madness brought on by despair of tlui
Queen's favour (for this after all was the only kind of
persecution which he was suffering), the whole trial would
probably have taken a different turn ; and Bacon would
undoubtedly have made a very different S})ecch from that
which he did make.* But he took the o})posite course.
He boldly pleaded not guilty ; came prepared to justify
the whole action as an act of self-defence against a plot
laid by his private enemies to assassinate him. And this
ground (in the opening of the case, wlien he thought th(3
Government knew of nothing beyond the armed assembly
and tumult) he did actually and explicitly ttdce up. It is
true that when he found that thoy had ferreted out the
whole story — that they knew all the particulars of the
previous preparations and consultations;, — and how (many
days before) the expediency of raising a party in the city
had been talked over, the jirojcct of seizing the Tower
formally discussed, and a })lan for surprising and mastering
the Court considered in detail and all but matured ; — and
moreover when the I'arl of Southampton, standing bv his
side at the l)ar and answering on the sudden to these
unexpected charges, had Ijy his answer virtually admitted
the facts; -it is true, I say, that he then shifted liis posi-
tion, and (being conijjelle^d in his extremity to put another
colour upon his pro<-eedings) pretended, or a<ljiiitted, (call
it which you will) that he had a further object, which was

* "I (Ud iioi cxpi.^ct thai. inattiT oT (hfnirr \v<iiil,l Imvc lircn plciulod lliis
(lay; and thcrefnru 1 magi (dicr vvj t^prcrh fiDin tloit I i,i(i'ii<Ic<I." — Rcjioii <>/'
I In: Trial.

EVENINGS WITH A RE VIE WEE. 133

to force his way to the Queen and induce her to remove his
enemies from her councils. But his mention of these
" enemies " in the first instance was distinctly as of persons
from whom he stood in fear of a personal attack ; and his
motive for mentioning them was to account for the armed
assembly on Sunday morning at Essex House, and for
locking up the Lord Keeper, Lord Chief Justice, and other
officers sent from the Council to command them to lay
down their arms. It was indeed the pretence which he had
devised and meditated from the beginning, and which he
always intended to rest upon. For a day or two before the
insurrection, he had industriously scattered about the city
and elsewhere, rumours of a pretended plot against his life.
On the morning of the insurrection he declared to the Lord
Keeper, as accounting for the concourse of so many armed
friends, that his life was sought, that lie should have been
murdered in his bed, that he and his friends were assembled
there to defend tlieir lives. When he went into the city to
seek help there, he repeated the same story with some vari-
ations to the people in the streets. Upon his trial he again
alleged the same apprehension in justification of his pro-
ceeding on that day, " Having had certain advertisement
(he said) on Saturday at night that mi/ ijrivate enemies were
in arms against me, and the same news being seconded on
Sunday morning by persons worthy the believing, I resolved
to stand upon my guard," And again — " As for locking up
the Lords sent from the Council, it was done in charity and
without disloyalty, and intended only to safeguard them
lest they should have taken hurt : for when the people in
the streets shouted with a great and sudden outcry, they
said, ' We shall all be slain ' — at which time I and my
friends thought our enemies liad leen come to heset the Jiouse."
■ — You see therefore that Essex's plea was not that the per-
secutions of his enemies had " driven him to despair " — but
that they had driven him to take up arms in defence of his
life. And this was the plea against which Bacon's answer
was directed. And so much for the first principal proposition
in the last paragraph.

134 £ VEXING S WITH A REVIEWER.

Ill the second place, the reviewer tells us that the plea
" was true, and Bacon well knew it to be true ; " both which
assertions I flatly contradict. It was false ; and Essex well
knew it to be false. There were no enemies of the kind.
Enemies who sought his life (the only kind of enemies in
question) there were certainly none. Ricals there were no
doubt, who were doing what they could to keep his fortunes
down ; but the worst they could do was to keep him out of
Court, and the worst of his despair was but a farewell to
Court-favour.

But though Essex's plea was totally false, it was necessary
that it should be answered. For had he been able to make
it good ; — had he been able to show that his original design
in gathering a number of armed men at Essex House was no
more than to resist an attack by armed enemies, which he
really apprehended ; find that the rest of the action followed
upon this, one thing drawing on another in the hurry and
distraction of the time; — it would have amounted not only to
a palliation, but very nearly to a justification. At any rate it
would have discharged him of all imputation of a treasonable
indention. It seems also to have been aline of defence wdiich
the Government had not anticipated : and in the desultory
progress of the trial (during which, in consequence of the
prisoners being allowed to make their remarks upon the
several points of tlie cliarge and evidence as it proceeded,
the argument was continually sliilting from one thing to
another), there was some danger of its being left unanswered.
And therefore it was tliat Bacai (whose eye was always upon
the material points of the case in hand; rising in his turn
and " altering liis speech from that he had intended," re-
called tliis point of the d(,'fence, and showed how ill it hun^r
togetlier, and what a mere })retence it \\as, and an artifice as
old as the days of Bisistratus. Tlie illustration was certainly
fair and apt, and what harm there was in quoting it, 1 con-
fess I cannot see. I'he c(jmparison was not in anv way
degrading. It was not as if he had comjiare(l him to Xero
or Catiline', or any of the infamous characters of history.
And so much for the sr'cond }ti'inei]tal ])roi»ositi"n in the
])aragfa])h.

la^ENINOS WITH A REVIEWER. l?i')

In the third place, the reviewer gives us to understand
that Bacon had himself " in old times, under his own hand,
repeatedly asserted the truth of what he now represented as
idle pretexts ; " which again I deny. Bacon had never
asserted any such thing as that Essex had any enemies
against whom it was necessary that he should stand upon
armed guard ; or that there was any machination against
him which could be resisted by force. " Under his own
hand" (if by that be meant in Ids own person), Bacon had
said nothing about the existence of enemies of any kind.
It was only in a letter drawn up by him in Essex's name,
and which was to be taken for Essex's own composition, that
he had (not " repeatedly " but once ; not " in old times " but
lately ; not " under his own hand " but under Essex's ;)
attributed the depression of his fortunes to the power of
certain persons about the Queen, who, having access to her
ear, abused it with false information. To say that this
amounted to an admission on the part of Bacon that the
story about the plot against Essex's life was true, is merely
absurd. It does not even prove that the depression of his
fortunes was helieved by Bacon to be the work of Court
enemies. It only proves that he could think of nothing so
likely to make the Queen restore him to favour as the
suggestion that his exclusion from favour was not her own
doing, but the work of others who were abusing her. Any-
how, the matter was totally irrelevant. The letter was a
dramatic work ; a device got up between Bacon and Essex
for the purpose of working upon the Queen's humour. And
this public reference to it was no less idle, considered as an
argument upon the point in question, than unjustifiable con-
sidered as a violation of confidence. If there be anything
lamentable in the story, it is the light in which it exhibits
such a man as Essex ; who did still worse things of the same
kind afterwards, in bearing witness (and unfortunately not
always true witness) against his friends. One can only ac-
count for them as the random plunges of a drowning man
catchincj at straws.

13G EVJi'NINGS WITH A REVIEW FJl.

Well, now that you have contradicted every proposition
in the paragraph we last read, I suppose you are satisfied.
I want to hear the reviewer out before I make up my mind.
He goes on — •

"Bacon retiu'ned a shnffling answer to the Earl's ques-
tion.—"

" Shuffling " is an epithet ; and from epithets we agreed,
I think, that the reviewer was to be interdicted. Bacon's
answer was — " Since you have stirred up this matter, my
Lord, I dare warrant you that for anything these letters
contain I shall not blush in the clearest light. For I did
but perform the part of an honest man, and ever laboured to
have done you good, if it might have been. For what
I intended for your good was wished from the heart."
Essex had no more to say.

" — And as if the allusion to Pisistratus were not sufficiently
offensive, made another allusion still more unjustifiable. He
compared Essex to Henry Duke of Guise, and the rash attempt
in the city to the day of the barricades at Paris. Why Bacon
had recourse to such a topic it is difficult to say. It was quite
unnecessary for the purpose of obtaining a verdict. It was
quite certain to produce a strong impression on the mind of the
haughty and jealous princess on whose pleasure the Earl's fate
depended. — "

And whose fate perhaps, and the fate of the whole
kingdom, depended upon the issue of this proceeding against
the Earl.

" The faintest allusion to the degrading tutelage in which
the last Valois was held by the House of Lorraine, was sufficient
to harden her heart against a man who in rank, in nnlitary

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 137

reputation, in popularity among the citizens of the capital, hove
some resemblance to the Captain of the League."

Here again, the reviewer seems to be talking as if the
object of a criminal trial were to obtain a bare verdict, — not
to discover the offence ; and moreover as if a public prose-
cutor in a court of justice ought to be thinking, not of his
business, which is to " show the face of Truth to the face of
Justice," — but of the means of working on his sovereign's
humour. Elizabeth, you may depend upon it, knew all
about the day of the barricades witliout being reminded of
it by Bacon. It was as superfluous to remind her of the
true nature of this business as it would have been vain to
attempt to conceal it from her. But there axis a party
whom it was not superfluous to remind of these things, —
who were but too likely to overlook them, — and to whom it
was of great national importance to present them in a just
light ; — I mean the public at large. Whatever might be
the result of the trial, whatever punishment might bo
awarded to the offenders, it was most important that the
justice of it should be made out to the satisfaction not only
of the judges, but of the people. Substantiated as the
charge against Essex was — fully substantiated in every
point — we know that the people did in fact murmur against
the sentence. How much more and how much more dan-
gerously would they have murmured, if the case had been
left by the counsel for the prosecution only half made out !
How unjust would it have been, not only to the State, the
safety of which depended upon the right dealing with it,
but to the prisoner himself! Such an attempt by so
popular a man as Essex was really a very serious thing.
The advantage of a few hours might (as I said before) have
turned it into the first stroke of a civil war. The punish-
ment of it was a momentous question of state ; and the
question was what it really deserved, therefore what it really
icas ; — not whether a capital sentence was justified by the
])are letter of the law, but whether the execution of that

138 El'ENINGS WITH A EEVIEWER.

sentence was demanded by justice and State policy. For
this purpose, to present the case in its true colours was
surely the imperative duty of all persons charged with the
prosecution. To let the Queen and the people believe that
Essex's real object was only to defend himself against assas-
sination, would have been most unjust to them. To explain
to the Queen privately, or to the people extra-judicially,
the falsehood and frivolity of that plea, — without having
publicly challenged it at the bar, — would have been most
unjust to liim. The first would have betrayed the State in
concealing the truth ; the second would have betrayed
Essex in cheating him of his opportunity of defence.

Kow as to this fresh allusion which the reviewer says
was "more unjustifiable " than the other — this topic which
he " cannot understand why Bacon had recourse to " ; — take
it as it comes in tlio course of the trial, and surely nothing-
is more natural and pertinent. Essex's first story was that
he was merely acting in self-defence against private enemies
from whom he had reason to apprehend an attack. In
answer to this it was sliown that there was no ground for
any such apprehension, and that it was in fact a mere pre-
text like that of Pisistratus. But this excuse, even if true,
would have accounted only for the muster of friends and
the restraint of the councillors. How was he to account for
his projected attempt upon the Court and for his endeavour
to raise help in the city ? To this question he replied that
his object was only to secure access to the Queen that he
might " unfold to her his griefs against his private enemies."
Bacon answered, — " Girant tliat you meant only to go as a
suppliant, shall petitions be presented by armed peti-
tioners ? Tliis must needs bring loss of liberty to the Prince.
Neither is it any point of law (as my Lord of Southampton
would have it believed j that con<lemns them of treason, but
it is apparent in common sense. 'W) take secret counsel, to
execute it, to run together in numbers, armed with weapons,
—what can be tlie excuse? AN'arned by tlic Lord Keeper — ■
by a herald — and yet ])ersi.st ; will any simjde man take
this to be less than treason?" I'pon this Jilssex arguetl

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER. 139

tliat " if he had purposed anything against others than those
his private enemies, he would not have stirred with so
slender a comj^any." " Whereunto Mr. Bacon answered "
(continues the Eeport), " It was not the company you carritnl
with you, but the assistance you hoped for in the city,
which you trusted unto. The Duke of Guise thrust himself
into Paris on the day of the barricades, in his doublet and
hose, attended only with eight gentlemen, and found that
help in the city wliich (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 and scape their fury. Even such was my Lord's con-
fidence too ; and his pretence the same ; an all-hail and a
kiss to the city ; but the end was treason, as hath been
SLifiiciently proved."

This is all the passage. Can you see anything strange
in the introduction of such a topic ? Surely it was neces-
sary to meet Essex's argument, which was in fact a very
plausible one. For if he could have proved that his
purpose was merely to present himself to the Queen in
forma supplicantis, without any force to back him — I do
not say without meaning to use force, for his meaning would
have been no guarantee tor his actions ; he could not him-
self know what he would have been led to do when he once
found himself in that position — but if lie couhl have shown
that he had taken no measures nor made any endeavour to
provide himself with force more than for his personal pro-
tection— then, although the act niiglit still perhaps have
been treason in law, yet the aspect of his offence, politically
as well as morally considered, would have been totally
altered. Now the fact that he went into the ,city with a
slender company, armed only with pistols, rapiers, and
daggers, seemed to keep this story in countenance. It was
necessary to reconcile that fact with the more criminal
intention imputed to him, or the case against liim would
have been left incompjete in a material part. And the
example of the Duke of Guise was so directly in point and
lay so obviously in the way, that one does not see how Bacon

140 EVEXTXGS WITH A BE VIEWER.

could have passed it by. And none of the reports of the
trial represent bina as baying wandered into any declama-
tions or aggravations in tbe matter. He appears to bare
confined bimself strictly and exactly to wbat was material.

Tben you really believe tbat Essex's ends were home
fide treasonable ; tbat be went out into tbe city in tbe bope
of gathering a force there strong enough to make bead
against the Government ?

I do not see bow any one who has read the confessions
and depositions can have a doubt of it. It may be true
that Essex's ultimate objects (so far as he bimself knew
them) were limited to what we should now-a-days call a
change of ministry. But his immediate object was to make
himself by force of arms master of the tben established and
lawful Government. How can you doubt this, when you
know that the preparatory conferences had turned upon the
means not only of surprising the Court, but of gaining pos-
session of tbe Tower and of raising a party in the city ?
He did, I dare say, mean to assume tbe attitude of a sup-
pliant ; but being well aware that his supplication would
not be freely granted, be meant to provide against tbat
accident by coming with a power strong enough if necessary
to enforce it.

Then I confess tbat in these circumstances it would not
liave been easy for Bacon to say less than he did. For T
quite agree with you that, having undertaken tbe part of a
counsel for the prosecution, it \\as his duty to make the
charge out in all its parts, so far ut least as he believed it to
be true.

And I would not bold liim justified in going an incli
further. But I liavo yet to b'arn tbat bo ever did urge an
unjust charge against anybody.

EVENING 8 WITH A REVIEWER. 141

We shall see. I agree to acquit liim of censure for all
that he has done up to this time, so far as by the reviewer's
help and yours I know what it ^v•as. But I see many more
charges coming in the remaining part of this paragraph,
which we are not yet nearly through.

Out with thorn then. It would be an agreeable variety
to meet with something not grossly inaccurate.

" The Earl was convicted. Bacon made no effort to save
him ; though the Queen's feelings were such that he might have
pleaded his friend's cause, possibly with success, certainly with-
out any serious danger to himself."

That is all mere guessing. For first, liow does the
reviewer know what the state of the Queen's feelings was ?
Secondly, how does he know tliat Bacon had any oppor-
tunity of pleading his benefactor's cause ? Thirdly, how-
does he know that if he had any such opportunity, he did
not use it for the purpose of working upon her feelings in
his favour ? AVhat he did, and \^hat he had the means of
doing, could be known only to two persons — himself and the
Queen. The Queen has told nothing of what passed between
them. Bacon has told sometliing. AVhat he tells us is of
course to be taken with caution, being his own story told in
his own defence when nobody could contradict him. But
when a man is charged w\i\\ a grave olfence, it is usual at
least to hear ^hat he has to say in answer, and to give him
the benefit of his explanation so far as it goes, and so long-
as there is no evidence to throw discredit upon it. Xow
Bacon expressly says, — " For the time which passed, I mean
between the arraignment and my Lord's suffering, I well
remember that I was but once with the Queen ; at wluit
time, though 1 durst not deal dinctlv for him as thinii-s then

112 LIJLXJNUS WITH A BEVIEWKll.

stood, yet generally I did both commend lier Majesty's
mercy, terminir it to her as an excellent balm that did
continually distil from her sovereign hands and made an
excellent odour in the senses of her people ; and not only
so, but I took hardiness to extenuate, not the fact, for that
I dnrst not, but the danger ; telling her that if some base
or cruel-minded persons had entered into such an action, it
might have caused much blood and combustion ; but it
api>eared well they were such as knew not how to play the
malefactors ; and some other words which I now omit."
And in another place he distinctly says, that after the Earl's
" last fatal impatience, there was not time to icorJc for him.'''
All this is told under the most solemn asseveration that a
man can make of its truth ; nor has a shadow of evidence ever
been produced to contradict it, or any part of it. "What
business then has this reviewer, — I do not say to doubt it, —
but to assert, as an undisputed fact, the exact contrary ?
Who can now say what was the most judicious way of deal-
ing with Elizabeth in such a matter ? AVho can say wliat
obstacles there may have been to dealing directly for the
Earl, ''as things then stood ? " One obstacle suggests itself
at once. Tlie <lisclosures to which the trial led were every
(Uiy altering the aspect of Essex's offence. lie was con-
victed on the 19th of February, lie began to make his
own confessions on the 20th. And considering that in
these confessions he accused many persons of being privy
to the conspiracy who had not been suspected before; and
among them persons no less important than Lord jMounljoy,
commander of the army in Ireland, and Sir Henry jN'eville,
our ambassador in France, it must hav(! been growing daily
more doubtful how i'ar it had spread and what was the
bottom of it. His practices witli the King of Scotland came
to light about the same time, and there Eacon himself must
liave been under some suspicion ; for the greater part of
l^ssex's correspondence with Scotland passed through the
hands of Anthony Eacon, —though it wouhl seem that he
was not made privy to this pni-t of it. l^asy therefore it is
to imagine (hat an attenij>t iiy a man in beacon's position to

EVENINGS WITH A REVJEWER. 143

" deal directly for Essex as things then stood,'' would have
been absurd and impertinent, and would have done more
harm than good.

But this is mere guessing. All I am concerned to make
out at present is that the reviewer has no shadow of right
to say that Bacon, even at this conjuncture, omitted any
opportunity of befriending Essex so far as it was possible to
befriend liim without violating a prior and superior duty.

xV.

Well ; but here's more.

"The unhappy nobleman was executed. His fate excited
strong, perhaps uni'easonable, feelings of compassion and in-
dignation."

Perhaps unreasonable ! Certainly most unreasonable.

" The Queen was received by the citizens of London with
gloomy looks and faint acclamations. 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 em-
l)loyel to murder the Earl's fame."

As for **■ assisting in taking the Earl's life," you remember
that we acquitted Bacon of any fault in taking the part he;
did at the trial. And now be on your guard against ad-
mitting such an expression as "murdering the Earl's fame."
One might think the writer had taken his pattern of his-
torical composition from the speeches of counsel in crim.
con. cases. Eive lines back it was but a '' vindication " of
proceedings wiiich had been " perhaps unreasonably " con-
demned. Now it is a murder of the fame of the person
proceeded against. If the sentence was not a murder of
the man, why should we suppose that the vindication of
that sentence must be a murder of his fame ?

That would depend upon the fidelity with which it w^s
drawn up.

144 !■: VEXING S WITH A ItEVIEWEE.

True. Then suspend your opinion till the reviewer
produces some proof of Avant of fidelity. Assertions he will
produce in plenty ; but he seems to think it superfluous
even to pretend to bring proofs.

" The Queen had seen some of Bacon's writings and had. been
pleased with them. He Avas accordingly selected to write a
' Declaration of the Practices and. Treasons attempted and com-
mitted Ity Eobeit Earl of Essex;' which was printed by
authority. In the succeeding reign Bacon had not a word to
say in defence of this performance — "

Not a word to sav in defence of it ?

" — a performance abounding in expressions which no generous
enemy would have employed respecting a man who had so
dearly expiated his oftences, Ilis 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
he was to treat every part of the subject, — and tliat in fact he
Lad furnished only the arrangement and the style."

Do you happen to liave read this Declaration?

No ; 1 think not.

Then I can oidy offer yim my own o})inion. 1 \\A\e read it
carefully many times over, and have endeavoured to examine
and weigh the autliority for every statement in it. And I
must aver tluit tli*.' furtlicr 1 ha\e })rucec(lt'd in this examina-
tion, the more 1 liave been convinced that it is a statement
judicially and liislorically accurate; and thougli it is true
tliat lliere is liere and tlierc; an ex})ressi()ii which u iViend

EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWEE. 145

writing in his own person and character would hardly have
used, I doubt whether there is even an expression in it, to
the introduction of which in an official declaration pro-
fessedly proceeding from " authority " any reasonable ex-
ception could be taken. This however is a point with
which I am not properly concerned. My business is with
Bacon's part in the transaction, not with that of Elizabeth
and her councillors. And here again I must say, that our
reviewer has either strangely overlooked, or still more
strangely omitted, that part of Bacon's exculpation which
is more material than all the rest. You had better hear it
all together in Bacon's own words : — " It is very true also

that her Majesty commanded me to pen that book

which was published for the better satisfaction of the world;
which I did ; but so as never secretary had more particular
or exj)ress directions and instructions in every point how to
guide my hand in it : — " so far the reviewer goes ; giving
the substance with (for him) tolerable accuracy. But there
he leaves off, as if that were all ; as if Bacon, having been
told beforehand what he was to do, had gone and done it,
and this tcere it ; as if therefore he had deliberately con-
sented beforehand to the introduction of every expression
which the printed paper contains. But, by his leave,
Bacon's excuse is not half done yet ; we have not even got
to a full stop : — " And not only so " (he goes on), " but cifter
I had made a first draugld thereof, and propounded it to
certain principal councillors by her Majesty's command, it
was perused, weighed, censured, altered, and made almost a
neiv luriting, according to "- — -What ? my own suggestions ?
Ko ; but according to — '^ their Lordships' letter considera-
tion."-— Now surely this is a very material part of the case.
For though he were to be held personally answerable for
every word in his own first draught, on the ground that if
he disapproved of the plan proposed he ought not to ha\ e
consented to draw it at all, (and even that would be rather
hard measure,) he is not at any rate to be held answerable
for the alterations which the Council thought fit to make in
a paper which was to be published by their authority and

VOL. I. L

146 EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB.

as their own manifesto. But liere is still more :— Did not
the reviewer say just now that Bacon had not a word to say
in defence of this performance ? Listen to this : — " Wherein
their Lordships and myself both were as religious and
curious of truth as desirous of satisfaction." — Surely to say
of a composition that it was drawn up with a religious
adherence to truth is to say a word in defence of it. — " And
myself indeed gave only words and form of style in pur-
suing their direction." — Nay, we are not done yet. Here
are yet more alterations, and those precisely of the kind
which are most pertinent to the present argument. " And
after it had passed their allowance, it was again exactly
perused by the Queen herself, and some alterations made
again by her appointment; nay, and after it was set to
print, the Queen, who, as your Lordship knoweth, as she
was excellent in great matters, so she was exquisite in small,
and noted that I could not forget my ancient respect to my
Lord of Essex, in terming him ever m7j Lord of Essex, my
Lord of Essex, almost in every page of the book, which she
thought not fit, but would have it Essex or the late Earl of
Essex ; whereupon of force it was j^rintcd de novo, and the
first copies suppressed by her peremptory commandment."

Now, you know, when a Queen's counsel refuses to do
what a Queen commands, he must do it at some particular
time and for some assignable reason. Can you suggest at
what particular stage of this transaction Bacon coukl have
objected to undertake the proposed task, or A\hat pretence
he could have put forward ? Essex had been tried, con-
demned, and executed. Tliat tlie exocutio]! was uujust no
man could say wlio know the })articulars of the crime. Yet
tlie people, being ignorant of tlioso particulars or deaf to
them, were agitated by unrcasunable ft'elings of compassion
and indignation. 'I'lie (,)ueen, naturally anxious to relievo
her Government of tliis unjust odium, determined to put
forth a declaration of tlio i'acts of tlie case from the be-
ginning ; and for tliis ])urp()se a])]i]ie(l to tlie inan wlio, of
all the men in hr^r dominions, could tell a story most truly,
most concisely, and most perspicuously, llim she instructed

EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWEB. 147

in what manner she wished the subject to be handled ; that
is, she told him — (so at least I conjecture) — -that it was not
to be merely a narrative of the insurrection and the trial ;
for though this included the specific act of treason for
which Essex suffered, it did not include all or nearly all the
matters which the Queen had to take into consideration in
order to determine whether or not it were a fit case for
mercy ; but that it was to contain an exposition of all the
precedent practices which had now come to light, and which
proved Essex to be a man whose life was dangerous to the
State. This task the Queen commanded Bacon to execute.
Upon what pretence could he possibly decline ? He was
not called upon to justify a case which he believed to be a
bad one ; however sorry he might be for Essex, he could not
but believe that both sentence and execution were just and
inevitable. He was not asked to assist in a needless and
sujjerfluous attack upon the memory of a dead man ; he
could not but believe that to relieve the Government from
a popular imputation of unjust severity executed upon a
popular idol, Avas necessary for the security of the State
and the peace of the nation. He was not called upon to
say a word that he believed to be untrue, or to countenance
an imputation which he believed to be unjust. Part of the
very scheme of tlie proposed declaration was to print as an
appendix the very words of the evidence from which the
statements in the narrative part were drawn. — Well, he
undertook the task, as what else could he do ? He prepared
a draught and laid it before the Council.

That draught, as originally prepared by himself, I sup-
pose has not been preserved.

No. If it had, we should have been able in some degree
to judge, from its tone and manner, of the spirit in which
he worked. But all we know about it is that the shape in
which he drew it was very different from the shape in which

148 EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWED.

we have it ; and so far as we know anything of the par-
ticulars of the alterations, we know that the effect of them
was to make the tone of the writing more cold and severe
towards the memory of Essex than it was originally. There-
fore unless we believe that the whole transaction was dis-
creditable, and such as a man of honour and delicacy should
rather have thrown up his office than engage in, Ave are
really without any means of judging of the propriety or
impropriety of Bacon's part in it ; — for we do not know
what his part was. When the paper was once laid before
those principal councillors and submitted to their censures
and alterations, it ceased to be his ; he had no further com-
mand over it. He could not say to the Lord Keeper, or
the Archbishop, or the Secretary of State, or the Attorney-
General, — " I cannot consent to this or that omission or
addition ; the passage must stand as I wrote it, or I will
withdraw the paper altogether." The paper was not his to
withdraw. He might as well be held responsible for the
alterations which the Queen made after it was printed, as
for those which the councillors made after it was laid before
them. Nor could he reasonably have claimed a right to
object to the introduction of alterations. The declaration
was to be printed by authority, not of Bacon, but of the
Queen and her coimcillors ; the responsibility being theirs,
it was fitting that the work should be theirs also.

At the same time you are to remember that I say this,
only that Bacon may have to bear no blame but what
belongs to him. 1 am far from thinking that, had lie been
personally ros})onsiblc for every syllable in the Declaration
as it stands, the blame would have been mucli. There are
a few harsh and stern expressions which it would not ]:ave
become him to use, in liis own j)ers(jn, and wliich even in a
State paper he would naturally have wished to avoid. J>ut
it is the manner only oi' the expression, not the matter, that
can bo objected to. It was to' be a judicidl statement, and
J doubt whether there is a single phrase in it wliicli would
have misbecome a judge in passing sentence.

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 149

Well, all this I can only listen to and wonder at ; being
matter of moral taste which does not admit of direct proof
or disproof. I must confess that your story taken by itself
would seem the more credible, because there is nothing
monstrous in it. But while it removes one kind of difficulty
it creates another. For if your account of the matter be
true, what am I to make of the reviewer's ? What motive
could he have for misrepresenting it so grossly ? Or if the
misrepresentation was unintentional, how could he fall into
such a series of mistakes ?

We had better put off that question to another night.
The author of this review is reputed to have read an immense
number of books ; and if you ask how he found time to
read so many, you will be told (I believe) that he had the
faculty of reading not by sentences, but by pages. Now I
can myself, in one sense, read a book by pages ; that is,
I can see by a glance at each page whether there is any-
thing in it ivhich I ivant to find. I fancy he ran through
this Declaration in that way, — seeing only what he wanted
to find.

EVENING THE FIFTH.

I have been looking forward ; and I see that the reviewer
o'oes on to vindicate at hirsfe his views of Bacon's conduct
towards Essex, and lays it on thicker and thicker. There-
fore we will hear him out first, before we sit in judgment
upon him ; for he has a great deal more to say.

Grant him his own historical facts and his own prin-
ciples of moral judgment, and he may go on vindicating his
own views for ever. But I join issue with him on both.

First, I deny that a present, even a present of money,
made to me as an acknowledgment for honest services, binds
me either to take part with, or not to take part against,
the giver, when he takes to dishonest courses. This is a
question of principle. And upon this it seems that I am at
issue with the reviewer.

Secondly, I deny that Bacon ceased to stand by Essex
until Essex had ceased to deal sincerely with him. Thirdly,
I deny that he took any part against him, so long as it was
possible to befriend him without violating a superior duty.
Fourthly, I deny that even then he took any stronger part
against him than the strict duty of his place required. And
finally, I deny that even if he had thrown all obligations to
his country overboard, and had thought of nothing but his
obligations to his friend, he could have done him any good

152 EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WE li.

whatever. He might have sinned with him and perished
with him ; or without sinning (further than by defending
the wrong cause instead of the right), he might have sacri-
ficed his fortunes for him ; but he coukl not have saved him.
These are all questions of fact, and on these also I am
at issue with the reviewer. If ho can shov,- that I am wrong
on any one of these points, I sliall be willing to admit that
he has done something to vindicate his position. But you
will find that he will only (as you say) " lay it on thicker
and thicker" — that is, will repeat his ibrmer mis-statements
with greater emphasis and grosser exaggeration. But we
shall see.

I see he addresses himself to answer Mr. Montagu's
aj'guments, which I suppose are not the same as yours.

No ; I do not undertake to make common cause with
I\rr. Montagu. There are many of his arguments that may
be easily triumphed over. But whatever j\racaulay has to
say, let us hear it. It will at any rate supply some fresh
texts, and some fresh illustrations of his way of writing
history.

" We regret to say that the whole conduct of Bacon through
Ihe course of these tiansactions appears to Mr. Montagu not
merely excusable, but deserving of high admiration. The
integrity and benevolence of this gentleman are so well known
that our readers will probably be at a loss to conceive by what
steps he can have arrived at so extraordinary a conclusion ; and
■we are half afraid that tliey will suspect us of practising some
.'irtifice upon them when we report the principal arguments
which ho employs.

" In order to get rid of the charge of ingratitude, IMr. Mon-
tagu attempts to show that liacon lay under greater obligations
to the Queen than to Essex."

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 153

Here we come to the question of principle. Please to
watch carefully the use of the word " ohligation."

" What these ohligations were it is not easy to discover.
The situation of Queen's Counsel, and a remote reversion, were
surely favours very far helow Bacon's personal and hereditary
claims. They were favours which had not cost the Queen a
groat, nor had they put a groat into Bacon's purse."

Mark that !

" It was necessary to rest Elizabeth's claims to gratitude on
some other ground ; and this Mr. Montagu felt."

Claims to gratitude! We were speaking of obligation.
Gratitude is only one kind of obligation. The question is
of duty, service, fidelity. These are obligations which may
hold good where there is no question of gratitude. — But
go on.

" ' What perhaps was her greatest kindness,' says he, ' instead
of having hastily advanced Bacon, she had, with a continuance
of her friendship, made him bear the yoke in his youth. Such
were his obligations to Elizabeth,' "

A suggestion, with which I have nothing to do. It is
hardly worth while to inquire whether it is fairly stated.

" Such indeed they were. Being the son of one of her oldest
and most faithful ministers ; being himself the ablest and most
accomplished young man of his time, — he had been condemned
by her to drudgery, to obscurity, to poverty."

154 FVI'JXIXGS WITH A BE VIEWER.

Tliat is, slie bad not raised him alove the necessitij of
worliing for Ids livelilwod. Tlic rest is gross rlietoric.
Above ohscurity sbe had raised bim. For sbe bad distin-
guisbed bim by imusual access, employed bim in tbe busi-
ness of tbe Ijearned Connsol, and used liim in State affairs.
Wbat next ?

"She had depreciated Ins acqiiireinonts.'"

That is, sbe bad shared wbat tbe reviewer himself admits
to have been " tbe general opinion " with regard to bis
acquirements as a lawyer. She bad said, " He bad a great
wit, and an excellent gift of speech, and much other good
learning ; but in Jaw thought be could rather show to tbe
uttermost of bis knowledge, than that bo was deep." — "Well?

" She had cliecked him in the most imjierious manner, wdieu
in Parliament he ventured to act an independent part."'

Not bim more than otliors.

" She had refused to him the professional advancement to
which he had a just claim."

Nay, hardly a claim. Sbe bad preferred Coke before
bim to be Attorney-General; and Fleming to bo Solicitor-
General. They were both of older standing. Coke was
nine years his elder, and liad a much higher professional
reputation. Fleming was, according to Jjac()n hims(df, "an
able man." " If 1 see her j\Iajesty (bo said) settle her
cdioice upon an able man, such an one as ^^r. Sergeant Flem-
ing, I will make no means to alter it."^ — ^Forc ?

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 155

" To her it was owing that while younger men — not superior
to him in extraction, and far infei'ior to him in every kind of
personal merit — were filling the highest offices of the State,
adding manor to manor, rearing palace after palace, — •"

It is a pity to strip that sentence of its feathers ; but it
must be done. Read instead {meo periculo), " While his
cousin Robert Cecil had been for two years Secretary of
State." The manors and palaces, I think, came after.

" — he was lying at a spnnging-hoiise for a debt of three
hundred pounds."

That was a pity, certainly. Yet I cannot think that
even that injury was enough to cancel his duty as a subject
to the State. He, at least, could not have pleaded it as a
valid excuse.

" Assuredly if Bacon owed gratitude to Elizabeth, he owed
none to Essex. If the Queen reall}'' was his best friend, the
Earl was his worst enemy. We wonder that Mr. Montagu did
not press his argument a little further. He might have main-
tained that Bacon was fully justified in revenging himself upon
a man who had attempted to rescue his youth from the salutary
yoke imposed upon it by the Queen ; — who had wished to ad-
vance him hastily ;— who, not content with attempting to inflict
the Attorney-Generalship upon him, had been so cruel as to
present him with a landed estate."

All this gaiety is aimed at Mr. Montagu, whom it is not
my business to shield. As far however as the matter itself,
apart from Mr. Montagu's way of handling it, is concerned,
I need only say that the argument at best only goes to
show that Bacon did not ov:e gratitude to the Queen, — that

156 EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB.

is, he ought not to have felt gratitude. But the fact is
that, whether he ought or not, he did feel it ; and felt it
deeply. Whatever may have been the nature of the
obligations conferred by her, there can be no doubt as to
the nature of the emotion with which they had inspired
him : — an earnest, grateful, affectionate, disinterested de-
votion ; an ambition, not to be paid for serving, but to
serve ; a sentiment of reverence and duty, which neglect
and injustice could never shake ; which the fear of obloquy
could never make him betray ; which the pursuit of fortune
could never make him forget ; which Death could not
cancel, — for it attached itself to her memory when it could
no longer avail herself. However base and unworthy of a
father of philosophy the reviewer may hold such a feeling
to be, — even he can hardly doubt the sincerity of it. It
lives to this day in the words which flowed fresh from his
heart at various times and in various circumstances, — in
times when he felt most elated by the gracious acceptance
of his services ; in times when he felt most depressed by
the ill requital of them ; — in times when he had everything
to hope from her favour ; in times when he had nothing
to hope ; — in times when all men were emulous to flatter
her ; in times when it was thought by many men that the
most acceptable way of flattering her successor was by
disparaging her.

But do you not see that the reviewer is speaking all this
time of gratitude and obligation as if they were merely
matters for a money bargain ? So much money you have
had from me ; so mucli zeal and fidelity I expect from you.
IIow, says he, could Bacon lie under greater obligations to
the Queen than to Essex, when the Queen had not put
a groat into his purse, and Essex had given him land ?
You miglit as well ask how a man can lie under greater
obligations to his religion or his conscience than to his
patron, — when his religion and conscience have always stood
in the way of his fortunes, and his patron has offered him
large bribes to betray them. If the reviewer really thinks
that the laws of duty are like the laws of an auction ; that

EVENINGS WITH A RE VIE WEB. 157

there are no " obligations " that a man can lie under, but
such as may be bought up by a higher bidder ; if he tliinks
that offices of friendship and loyalty belong as a matter of
course to the party that pays the largest fee ; — only let him
say so. We shall then know how to argue with him ; if wc
think it worth while to argue with him at all. Yet even on
this ground he might, if it were necessary, be met. Bacon
could have alleged as an excuse that he was already retained
on the Queen's side, and was not permitted by the etiquette
of his profession to transfer himself for a double fee to the
other party. His duty to the Queen and State was inde-
feasible ; any subsequent engagement incompatible with it
was ipso facto void.

The reviewer may reply that in that case he should not
have taken the fee.

Yes ; and I may reply again that the fee was not given
for any such object, or at any rate was not taken with any
such understanding. Bacon, at the time he took it, ex-
pressly said, " I can be no more yours than I was." But
if I speak of it as a/ee, it is only that I may bring it within
the compass of the reviewer's argument. It was not in fact
any fee for services to come, but a fair and honourable
acknowledgment (though by no means an extravagant one)
of services past. The simple and sufficient explanation of
the unpopularity which Bacon incurred on account of his
conduct to Essex, — of the " solitude and want of comfort "
in which his course involved him, — is most shortly ex-
pressed in his own Vt'ords addressed to the Queen in
December 1599 — (the time when he was threatened with
assassination) — " which I judge to be (he says) because
I tahe Duty too exactly ajid not according to the dregs of this
age." I am afraid the ages have not mended us in this
respect. We seem to be deeper than ever in these dregs.

158 EV^MSGS WITH A REV1E]\'E1L

You need not press this further on my account. For
assuming that you are correct in saying that he took no
further part against Essex than the duty of his place re-
quired, I quite agree with you that there is no just ground
for censure ; especially as he had attached himself to the
Queen's service before he saw Essex's face. And this point
being settled, the next appears superfluous. But we may
as well have it.

"Again, we can hardly think ^Ir. ^Montagu serious when he
tells ns that Bacon was bound for the sake of the public, not to
destroy his own ho2:)es of advancement ; and that he took part
against Essex from a wish to obtain power which might enable
him to be useful to his country. AVe really do not know how
to refute such argiiments except by stating them. Nothing is
impossible which does not involve a contiadiction. It is barely
jiossible that Bacon's motives for acting as he did on this
occasirm may have been gratitude to the Quccu for keeping him
poor, and a desire to benefit his fellow-creatures in some high
situation. And there is a possibility that Bonner may have
been a good Brotchtant, who being convinced that the blood of
martyrs is the seed of the Church, heroically went through all
the drudgery and infamy of persecution that he might inspire
the Englisli people with an intense and lasting hatred of
Bopery.— "

To make that an analogous case, we must suppose ]\[r.
^lontagu to have argued that Jjacon's object in taking part
against Essex was to inspire the ])eople with a hatred of the
Government; which is not ^Fr. ^Montagu's argument.

A.
Yes.

" — Thei'e is a ]iossibility tliat JeilVcys may havc^ been an ardent
lover of lihorty, and that he may have beheaded Algennm
Sydney and liiii-ned Klizahctli (iaunt, only in (H'der to produce a
reactiiui wliich migliL load to a limitation of the }irero;j,ative."" —

\our last remark applies still more exactly to this case.

■ — "There is a jiesNiljility that Thuitell may liave killed

EVENIXGS WITH A HE VIE WEI?. If) 9

Weare only in order to give the j^onth of England an impres-
8ive warning against gaming and bad company. There is a
possibility that Fauntleroy may have forged powers of attorney
only in order that his fate might turn the attention of the
public to the defects of the penal law."

Here lie should have cited (if he wanted a case truly
analogous), not Thurtell and Fauntleroy, but some one
among the counsel for the prosecution who had formerly
received money from them : — and told us that it was
" barely possible " that these counsel might have taken their
part in the prosecution in the hope of advancing in their
profession, and so serving their country or their party in
parliament. I suppose most people would agree that such
a thing was not only " possible " but probable.

" These things, wc say, are po.-sible ; but they are so ex-
travagantly improbable, that a man who should act on such a
sup»position would be fit only for St. Luke's. And we do not
see why suppositions upon which no man would act in ordinary
life should be admitted into history. — "

It is odd. I swallowed all this without straining when
I read the article iirst. I must confess now that it appears
intolerable trifling with a serious subject. You will of
course answer that all these pretended analogies are cases
in which notorious crimes are supposed to be committed
upon a pretence merely absurd and extravagant : whereas
in Bacon's case the act itself was no crime, and at any rate
lay in the direct road to the supposed object.

Unquestionably I should say that. For since we are
debating possibilities, — it is surely j^ossiUe that Bacon,
knowing the Queen's cause to bo a good one and Essex's
cause to be a very bad one, may have thought it no crime
to stand by the good cause even if he should die the day
after. And setting aside the question of duty altogether,

IGO EVE XING S WITH A BE VIE WEIL

it is quite certain that by throwing up his office on such
an occasion he wouhl have greatly diminished his oppor-
tunities of doing service to liis country. So that assuming
the motive to be a possible one in itself, there is no ab-
surdity in supposing that it had its influence here. If it
impelled him to do anytliing, it must have impelled him
to do what he did. — But I should say much more than
this. I should say that this glimpse into the reviewer's
breast through the window which he here inadvertently
opens, presents a spectacle which is to me almost awful ;
and a spectacle of no good omen for mankind. Here is a
young aspirant for political power and distinction in the
year of grace 1837 who sets it down as " extravagantly
improbable " that a man should wish for power in order to
benefit his fellow-creatures.

Hardly that, perhaps. He thinks it extravagant to
suppose that this was Bacon s motive.

'J'hat point I may have a word to say upr>n presently.
But I will not consent to qualify what 1 said just now, I
maintain that his argument implies an o}iiuion — (I sav,
"his argument implies the opinion;" for I do not under-
take to say that he thinhs as he tallcs, in any true sense of
tViC verb "to thii:k ; ") — his argument, I say, implies an
opinion, independently of Bacon's case, that the su]ipositi(jn
itself is extravagant. Grant liini for a moment that Bacon's
conduct was indefensible in itself, — a sacrifice of the duty
of gratitude,' to the desire of power. Still tlie prosjx'ct of
power was Ix'fore him, and tlireiigli that power lay his
chance of doing g(jod. A\ liy is it extravagant to supjiosc
that in desiring the power lie desired the ability to do good
wliich it must confer? To say tliat a man who is ca])a])le
of doing a bas(^ action in order to ol»tain a commandiiiij
])osition, is not ca}»ablo cjf dcsirln'j that ])ositi()n in order
that he may do great and good actions, is to contradict all

EVENINGS WITH A RE VIE WEB. IGl

daily as well as all historical experience. My only hope
is that the reviewer did not think about the matter ; that
the words embody no opinion of his whatever, and express
nothing more than the pride and pleasure Avhich he feels in
turning a good sentence.

A.
That is the true reading of them, I dare say. — But here
is more.

" Mr. Montagu's notion that Bacon desired power only in
order to do good to mantind, appears somewhat strange to us,
when we consider how Bacon afterwards used power, and how
he lost it."

" How Bacon afterivards used power " is a question on
which \ery much may be said, and on which the reviewer
will give us very little light. The use which he had
endeavoured hitherto to make of the little power he had,
I have already spoken of. And I think it would puzzle
the reviewer himself to explain away the appearances which
it exhibits of a desire to do good. The uses to which he
directed his influence in later life I shall probably have to
employ some evening in ex})laining; for the present I shall
content myself with denying altogether the relevancy of
the question. Suppose it true that Bacon after attaining
to power did no good with it, — what then ? Does it follow
that he intended none ? Whether he was honest enough
to do noble things or not, surely he was capable of desiring
•to do them. It is possible enough that a man who in his
silent meditations and resolutions was always intending the
largest benefits to mankind, might be perpetually turned
aside from his purposes by the fears or flatteries of the
time. But that a man who had the heart to dedicate him-
self from his earliest years to the service of mankind in the
highest and largest sense, — to devote his whole leisure to
the building up of a work which \\'as to bring (as he at least
believed) infinite benefit to mankind through all tlieir
generations, liut to himself no present reward except the

VOL. I. M

1G2 EVENJNCfS WITH A BEVIEWER.

consciousness of that service, — that such a man should in
his daily dealings with the world have been incapable not
only of noble actions, but even of noble tcishes, — should
have given up that heart to objects purely sordid and selfish,
— is it not a monstrous and incredible supposition ?

Quite incredible ; but unfortunately too much in keep-
ing with the reviewer's doctrine of "extravagant improba-
bility," upon which I thought just now you were too severe.
— But wait ; we are coming to particulars.

" Surely "the service which he rendered to mankind by
taking Lady Wharton's broad pieces, and Sir John Kennedy's
cabinet, — "

— those being the only services he ever rendered to man-
kind.

A.
Yes ; I see.
— "was not of such vast importance as to sanctify all the means
that might conduce to that end."

IMonstrous ! to think that this man was one of my
historical authorities !

" If the case w^ere flxirly stated, it would, wcmnch fear, stand
thus : — Bacon was a servile advocate that he might be a corrupt
judge."

B.
Fairly ! As if it could be fairly presumed that in
endeavouring to rise in his profession he was only specu-
lating on becoming Chancellor and receiving the profits of
corruption !

Say no more. I wonder if the reviewer was a reader of
book's that he might be a writer of slanders.
Now we come to a new point.

" ]\rr. ^rr)iita<j;u ooucoives that nnno Init the ignorant and
unreflecting can tliink I'aeon censnralilc for anytliini;- tliat ]iv.
did as counsel for the Ciown ; and maintains thiit no advocate
can juslifialily use an}- discretion us to the party for whom he
appears."

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 163

The validity of that argument must depend upon the
meaning which we attach to the word " discretion ; " the use
oi' which in what follows I beg you to watch narrowly.

There may be some difficulty perhaps in deciding what
kind of discretion is permitted in particular cases ; but none
surely as to the general principle. The end of the whole
proceeding is to do justice ; and the means is to know the
truth. The business of the counsel for the prosecution is
to set forth the evidence against the defendant ; that is, the
evidence which tends to show that he is guilty of the crime
imputed to him. His discretion is to be exercised in setting
forth that evidence /rt/rZy,- — in such a manner (I mean) that
it shall have upon the minds of the judges its true and
proper value, — that it shall weigh with them for exactly so
much, and only so much, as it would weigh in the judgment
of a just and understanding man, balancing in his own mind
the arguments for and against. He is not to attempt to
strike the balance himself ; because that would be to assume
the office of Judge ; which (besides that it is not Jus office)
cannot be exercised until the other side has been heard.
He is only to take care that all the true weights and that
no false ones are put into the scale of which he has the
charge. This surely is the iwincijple upon which it is his
duty to act. And I thought it had been (as a 'principle)
"universally recognized. For even the monstrous practices
of our modern Courts of Law are justified — (or I should
rathef say, an att'^mpt is made to justify them) — on the
plea that they do, in fact and upon the whole, tend to pro-
duce this result. So many false weights must be put in on
one side to balance so many false weights on the other.

I agree with you entirely. You could not liave described
more exactly the extent and the limit of the discretion

104 FVEXIXGS WITH A BEVIEWEn.

with which I conceive the counsel for the Crown were in
tliose times charged. It was their duty to present to the
judges in its true light, «// the evidence against the prisoner.
I am curious to hear in what respect the reviewer can
maintain that Bacon in this instance either exceeded or fell
short of it.

" We will not at present iiupiirc whetlier the doctrine which
is held on this suhject hy English laAvyers he or be not agi-ec-
al)le to renson and morality: whether it be right that a luan
should, with a wdg on his head and a band round his neck, do
for a guinea wdiat, without those appendages, he would think it
wicked and infamous to do for an empire : whether it be right
that, not merely believing l)ut knowdng a statement to be true,
he should do all that can be done by so})his{r3', by rhetoric, by
solemn asseveration, by indignant exclamation, by gesture, by
play of features, by teriifying one honest witness, by perplexing
another, to cause a jury to tldnl; that statement false. It is not
necessary on the present occasion to decide these cpiestions. The
professional rules, be they good or bad, are rules to A\hich many
■wise and virtuous men have conformed and are daily conforming.
If therefore Bncon did no more than these rules required of him,
we shall readily admit that he w-as blameless,"

Will you indeed? If lie did half as much as is here
implied, /should hold him unpardonable.

However, I have no (d)jpction to make to all this. Only
I want you to mark and remember it with reference to an
ai'gument which we sliall meet further on. Here are practices
Aviiich in the year 18u7 the reviewer admits to be not oidy
go'neral, but conformed to daily by many wise and virtuous
men ; and yet tliis is the (h-scriptiou he gives of them. I
shall want to refer to it hereafter, as showing in a good
modern illustration that a })ractice whicli is not only im-
moral, but is thus publicly denounced as immoral, — which is
not only indefeiisiblc, but undefended, — may continue never-
tlieless to [)rcvail and to be countenanced by the universal
Jiesjiectability of lliighind. Jf any (x^casion slnjuld arise

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 105

presenting this practice in an odious and unpopular light,
especially if in the person of an eminent and unpopular
man, I am convinced that the excuse which the reviewer
here makes for it would be of no avail for him whatever ;
he and his excuse would be swept away in a flood of popular
indignation. But this, as I said, has reference to a period
which is yet a long way before us. — Well ; and what did
Bacon do more than professional rules required of him ?

"But we conceive that his conduct was not justifiable
according to any professional rules that now exist, or that ever
existed in England. It has always been held that in criminal
cases, in which the prisoner was denied the help of counsel, and
above all in capital cases, the advocate for the prosecution was
both entitled and bound to exercise a discretion."

A discretion, undoubtedly. But what kind of discretion?
within what limits ? Was he bound, or was he entitled
even, to become the advocate of any accused party from
whom he happened to have received in former times a
present in money or in land ? For to let the prisoner go
away with the benefit of an excuse which he, the counsel
for the prosecution, knew and could prove to be false, — what
were it but to become his advocate ? No ; he was bound
to use his discretion in rejecting all unfair arguments against
the prisoner, — in presenting the evidence to the jury with
such explanation, qualification, or reservation as might be
necessary to prevent its having undue weight with them ; —
presenting it, in short, so as not to deceive them. But he
was not at liberty to use it in concealing important facts, or
in allowing a false colour to be put on the case the other way.

Certainly ; but let us hear him out.

" It is true that after the Revolution, when the Parlianient
began to make inquisition for the innocent blood which had
Ijoen shed by the last btuarts, a feeble attempt ^Vcls made to

IGG FVEXINOS WITH A BEVIEWEB.

defend the lawyers who had been accomplices in the murder of
Sir Thomas Armstrong, on the ground that they had only acted
professionally. The wretched sophism was silenced by the
execrations of the House of Commons. ' Things will never be
well done,' said Mr. Foley, ' till some of that profession be made
examples.' ' We have a new sort of monsters in the world,' said
the younger Hampden, ' haranguing a man to death. These I
call bloodhounds. Sawyer is very criminal and guilty of this
murder.' ' I speak to discharge my conscience,' said Mr. Gar-
roway : ' I will not have the blood of this man at ray dour.
Sawyer demanded judgment against him and execution. I
believe him guilty of the death of this man.' ' If the profession
of the law,' said the elder Hampden, ' gives a man authority to
murder at this rate, it is the interest of all men to rise and
exterminate that profession.' Nor was this language held only
by unlearned country gentlemen. Sir William AVilliams, one of
the ablest and most unscrupulous lawyers of his age, took the
same view of the case. Ho had not hesitated, he said, to take
part in the prosecution of the Bishops, because they were allowed
counsel. But he maintained that where the prisoner was m^
allowed counsel, the counsel for the Crown was bound to oxercit~:j
a discretion ; and that every lawyer who neglected this dis-
tinction was a betrayer of the law."

There again. A discretion. Still I ask what kind of
discretion ? Not surely to make, or allow any one to make,
a bad cause seem a good one. lu a trial for murdoi-, for
instance, is a prosecutor bound, in tlie exercise of this "dis-
cretion," to siidv all facts wliich prove malice and cold
blood ; and to leave Ligo the benefit of all Othello's
excuses? If not in a case of murder, \\hy in a case oJ'
treason ?

Wait one moment more. —

" I>ut it is unnecessary to cite aullnjrity. It is kno\vn U>
everybody wdio lias ever looked into a ('oui'l of (Juai'lt-r Sessions,
i liat lawyei's do (.-xci-cisc a discrL-1 ion in ciMminal cas's; and i(^
is plain U) every man of ut'iumun .-^fuse that, if lljcy diii not

EVENINGS WITH A RE VIE WEE. 167

exercise this discretion they would be a more hateful body of men
than those bravoes who used to hire out their stilettoes in Italy."

Now fire away, for we aro at the end of the paragraph.

I have discharged myself already. I have nothing to
say of the historical example, because I know nothing of
the case. Only I protest in general against an appeal to
the " execrations of the House of Commons " by way of
settling any question either of justice or of fact. The
House of Commons is at best a mob of gentlemen assembled
to discuss matters which they have neither been trained to
understand nor chosen for their aptness to understand.
When they begin to " execrate," you may safely conclude
that they are in no humour either to judge or to give
evidence. — However, I am not concerned to dispute their
sentence on this occasion. They were unquestionably right
in rejecting the plea (if this was the plea which they did
reject) that an advocate in a criminal case has a right to
resort to the tricks of advocacy for the sake of obtaining
a sentence against the prisoner. Any advocate who con-
ducted his pleading against Sir Thomas xVrmstrong as
unfairly as the review^er has in this article conducted his
pleading against Bacon, was (I admit) guilty of his blood,
and well deserved the execrations both of the lawyers and
of the country gentlemen. — Now for the proof that Bacon
brought himself within the range of this censure.

I once read that debate upon the case of Sir Thomas
Armstrong. But I think the word " discretion " was not
used in it from beginning to end ; — and (between ourselves)
it is a case not at all in point. The charge against Sir
Robert Sawyer was not that ho concluded the prosecution
against Sir Thomas ; but that he demanded execidion of
judgment in the face of a demand put forward by the
prisoner (which ho knew to be just) for arrest of judgment.
Sir Thomas had a right of appeal from the ju'lgJiieiit of

IfiS F VEXING S WITH A nEYIEWEU.

that Court. When the Court refused to acknowledge it,
he demanded that the statute under which he claimed the
right should be read ; upon which Sawyer, the Attorney-
General, only answered, " Your statute will do you no
good ; " and without hearing it read, proceeded to demand
execution ; thus making himself a party (as it was argued,
and I su})pose justly) to an act which lie knew to be illegal.
Instead of demanding execution of judgment, it was his
duty to advise the Court to suspend judgment. By taking
the opposite course he became a party to the illegal, exe-
cution ; therefore an accomplice in the murder. For tliis, —
not for pressing against him the evidence such as it was, —
he was ex^^elled from the House by a large majority.

Then the decision of the House in that case would have
applied to Sir Edward Coke at the trial of Sir Walter
lialeigh in IGUo ; if it be true (for that is a clause n(>ver
to be omitted in such matters) that, believing it to bo
illegal to condemn a man upon the evidence of one witness,
he did wliat he could to get that plea overruled : and if
by any accident an execrating House of Commons had seen
his conduct in that light, he might have found it no easy
matter to defend himself against a cliarge of murder. But
in the trial of Essex notliing of this kind occurred. It lias
not even been asserted tliat anything was done contrary to
law, either by judges or by e(junsel. — -But let us lu.ar huw
the reviewer attempts to ajiply his princi})les to the case.

" Bacon appeared against a man wlio was indeed guilt}' of a
great oii'ence, but who had Ijceii his ljenel'act,ur and friuiid."

IMost true : but not in any suit of his own, nor in any
unjust cause.

No. AW' ha\ (.' alrcad}' disrussc(l tliat point and accjuittrd

EVENINGS WITH A liEVIEWEn. IGO

Bacon. Ho certainly had no groimcl for refusini^- to appear
in his place against Essex.

" He did more than this. Nay, he did more than a person
who had never seen Essex woukl have been justified in doing.
He employed all the art of an advocate to make the prisoner's
conduct appear more inexcusable and more dangerous to the
State than it really had been."

That is the general charge over again ; which in the
absence of all particulars I can only meet as before by a
general contradiction. I assert confidently that he did
nothing of the kind.

" All that professional duty could in any case have required
of him would have been to conduct the cause so as to ensure a
conviction."

There we have over again Macanlay's doctrine as to
tlie duty of the counsel for prosecution, upon which, as
before, I join issue with him. To make out the case
sufficiently to ensure a conviction, was not enough. It was
necessary to make out the case so as to show icluit it was.

" But from the nature of the circumstances, there could not
be the smallest doubt that the Earl woukl be found guilty. The
character of the crime was unequivocal."

That again I take leave to deny. That the crime
amounted to treason in law, was indeed unquestionable.
But treason in what degree ? of what character ? What
animus did it imply ? AVas it an act of self-defence, as
Essex pretended ? Was he urgeel into it by great pro-
vocation, as the reviewer pretends ? — by fear, — by strong
temptation? Was it done in hot blood or in cold blood?
Was he under any delusion ? How far (in short) did it

170 EVENINOS WITH A REVIEWER.

imply a disloyal will in him, and danger in its consequences
to the State? — How idle to talk of ''tlie character of tlie
crime being unequivocal" while all these questions re-
mained doubtful !

Idle indeed I —

"It had bteu committed recently — in broad daylight — in
the streets of the capital — in the presence of thoutsandsi."

^Vhat was " it " ?

" If ever there was an occasion on which an arlvocato had
no temptation to re.sort to extraneous topics fi)r the purjiose of
bliTiding the judgment and intlaming the passions of a tribunal,
this was that occasion."

Blinding the judgment and inflaming the passions ! I
suppose it is too mtich to ask for an instance in wliich he
either did or attempted to do either the one or the other.

Our reviewer is not prolific of " instances " in this article.
But such as they are, they are coming : —

" Why then resort to arguments wdiich, wiiilc thej'couhl aild
nothing to the strength of the case considered in a legal poiiit
of view — "

It was a question of state as well as of law: not to ndd
that, even "in a legal iioint of view," there is a diileronre
between a crime provoked ami a crinnj uiijtruvoked. — V\'ell ?

" — tended to aggravate the uii;)ral guilt of tlic fatal cntfr]"! I-c ;
and to excite fear and aiqircdu/iisiMii in tliat fjuartcr IVtun which
alone the Earl could now h(i})e I'nr nurcyy"

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER. 171

Nay, the " moral guilt " was surely an essential point to
ascertain. Was he or was he not a dangerous man ? So far
from exaggerating his guilt beyond what it really was,
Bacon's speech conveys no notion of its real magnitude.
And as for " exciting fear and apprehension " in Elizabeth,
I would ask this simple question : was there, or was there
not, before Bacon oj)ened his mouth, any danger of her
feeling less apprehension than the case justified ? If there
was, then I say it was the part of a faithful servant to aivalcen
her apprehensions. If there was not, then I say it was the
part of a faithful servant to justify publicly to the prisoner's
face the apprehensions which she in private justly enter-
tained.

" Why remind tho audience of the arts of the ancient
tyrants ? "

Because Essex had endeavoured by arts resembling
those of one of those " ancient tyrants," — (if you clioose to
call him so,) — to impose upon the people. Bacon (by the
way) avoided the word "tyrant" — for the same reason, I
suppose, that the reviewer introduces it ; it makes the
parallel sound harsher than it really is. The precaution is
characteristic of them both. Bacon knew that the word
" tyrant " had grown odious since the time of Pisistratus ;
therefore, though Pisistratus ivas a tyrant in the ancient
sense, he did not call him so, lest the term should convey
a false impression. Tho reviewer, on tho contrary, feels
that to a modern reader, a charge of practising " the artifice
of Pisistratus " will not seem to contain any very horrible
imputation, — whereas a charge of practising "the arts of
the ancient tyrants " will bo at once undcrstotjd as a groa,s
calumny and insult. Therefore, though i'isistrutus -

172 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER.

Stop ; I see \Aliat you are going to say; but do not say
it. Keep your tem})er. Your case is growing quite strong
enough without wandering !>■ n\ the text.

" Why deny what everybody knew to be the truth, that a
powerful faction at Court had long sought to effect tlic ruin of
the prisoner?"

r>.

Bacon did not deny that. He denied only that there
was any sucli plot against him as made it necessary for him
to take up arms in defence of his life. And this he denied,
because many persons believed it on the credit of Essex's
declaration to be true, though Essex himself knew very well
that it was false.

" Wliy above all institute a parallel bct\veen the Tin-
happy culprit and the most wicked and successful rebel uf tJie
age ? "

Tlie most wicked, T suppose, heeause the most suceessfub
]jacon, however, does not seem to have tliouirlit him ])ar-
ticularly wicked, — exce])t in so far as and)! t ion was a
Mi(d\-f'dncss. ]le mentions him lioiioui'aldy in the "•Ad-
vancement of learning " as " that nolle prince, Henry Duke
of (:luise, — howsoever transported with ambition." Had
]-]ssex ])een as successful, there miuht por]i;!ps liavo o-rown
a question wiiich was the most wicked.- -Ibit this is not to
the ])iirpose. H, was not between tlie culprits Imt betweeu
the enterpriser tliat JJacon instituted a compMrison. Wo
confnK.'d himself strictly to the argument resjiecting tlnj
(Iruuicr of l']ssex's attem])t. ]''i'om tlie aetual i^sue oi' a
sindlar enterprise which had sueeecfh-d, might lie understood
ihe possible issue of tlnit wliich had lujt succeeded.

J^VENINGS WITH A EEVIEWEIi. 173'

"Was it alosohitcly impossible to do all that professional duty
required, without reiuinding a jealous sovei'eign of the League,
of the Barricades, and of all the humiliations which a too power-
ful subject had heaped on Henry the Third ? "

Bacon dwelt upon none of these things. He confined
himself strictly to the substantial and material points of
resemblance which the two cases presented. But I would
meet the last question more directly. I would answer
boldly, that without showing that the prisoner had done
something more than take necessary precautions against
assassination. — (he having been in fact engaged in an
unprovoked, a long-premeditated, a deliberate attempt to
master the Queen by force of arms,) — it ii:as absolutely
im[iossible to do all that professional duty required. We
have read the whole passage to which the reviewer refers,
so you can judge for yourself whether I understate the
intention and effect of Bacon's ar2:ument.

I remember, and I am clearly with you on that jwint.
Now, we come to the Declaration of Treasons ao-ain.

Ay : let us see what new shape that has taken since
we last parted from it.

" But if we admit the plea which Mr. Montagu urges in
defence of what Bacon did as an advocate, what shall we say of
the ' Declaration of the Treasons of Robert Earl of Essex ' ?
Here at least there was no pretence of professional obligation."

Put a query to that. It was not an obligation under
which he lay as a lawyer. But Bacon's profession was to be

174 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWED.

a true subject and servant to tlie Queen and State. If it
were for the fjood of the State that he slumkl draw up a
Declaration of Essex's treasons, he did lie under a pro-
fessional obligation to do it.

" Evon those who rany think it tlie (\.n{y of a lawyer to
hang, draw, and quarter hirf benefactors, for a proper considera-
tion— "

— As Bacon hung, drew, and qnartered Essex. I am
afraid we are beginning to " blind the judgment and inflame
the passions" of our readers. We must substitute for this
— " Those who think it the duty of a Crown lawyer to assist
in the prosecution of a traitor, even though that traitor be
his benefactor — " Well ?

" — will hardly say that it is his duty to write abusive pamphlets
against them after they are in their graves."

Ah ! There we have it. First it was a " vindication "
of a proceeding which had been " perhaps unreasonably "
condemned. Next it was a " murder of the fame " of the
person proceeded against. Now it is an "abusive pamphlet."
And all this without a single instance quoted of false state-
ment, unfair insinuation, or even exaggerated censure ! You
say you have not read this Declaration. You cannot there-
fore appreciate the true character of this last expression. I
do hope that the reviewer has not read it himself. In spite
of all that has gone before, I will still hope that if he had
read this Declaration, he would not have described it for
the information of tlnjse wIkj have not read it, as an
"abusive pam})ldet," gratuitously written for the purpose
of defaming a d<'ad benefactor. — Only rememb(,'r the occa-
sion which called for it. A popular idol and a dangerous
rebel, — a man who (to use tin- reviewer's own words) lias
" emleavoui'fd to throw the whole count rv into conl'usiun

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 175

for objects purely personal " — is executed for most just and
.urgent cause. After his execution fresh matter comes out
which proves that his case was even worse than it had
appeared to be, — his execution therefore still more amply
justiiied. Meanwhile rumours and pamphlets are actively
circulated among the people, giving false accounts of the
causes of his execution — false accounts of the act for which
he had been condemned ; awakening dangerous disaffection
to the Government at a time when it seemed to be on the
point of being assailed by three dangers coming upon it at
once — foreign levy, domestic malice, and the present prospect
of a disputed succession. In such a case, who that had a
spark of patriotism in him could shrink from assisting in an
endeavour to place the conduct of the Government in its
true light, by drawing up an account judicially and his-
torically accurate of the real grounds of the late proceed-
ing ? In speaking of such a case, who but the fool in the
Proverbs that scatters firebrands and says he is in sport,
could describe such an account written for such an object as
an " abusive pamphlet " ?

Certainly if your statement of the case be correct,
Macaulay's best excuse must be that he misunderstood it.
But he has more to say yet. Perhaps he will come to
particulars after all. Let us hear him out.

" Bacon excused himself bj saying that he was not answer-
able fur the matter of the book, and that he furnished only the
language."

Pardon me. That excuse related to the manner ratlicr
than to the matter. The matter he excused by declaring
that it was drawn up with a religious adherence to truth.

I remember.

" Biit why did he endow such purposes Avilli words ? '

17G ETENINGS WITH A REVIEWER.

Because ho believed tlie purposes to be just and for the
good of the state.

" ( ould no hack-writer, without virtue or shame, be found
to exa^'^'erate the errors, already so dearl_) expiated, of a gentle
anel noble spirit ? "

I deny the exap'gerations. And if I content myself
with a general denial, it is only because the reviewer has
not given so much as a hint of the particular exaggerations
to which he alludes. And I much doubt whether he was
oven thinking of anything in particular. Ho has long
ceased to look at the original, and is iinishing the picture
after his own fancy.

"Every age produces those links between the man and the
baboon. Every age is fertile (»f Concanens, of Clildons, of
Anthony Pasfpiins. ]>nt was it for Baeon so to prostitute his
intellect ? Could he not feel that while lie rounded and puinted
some period dictated by the envy of Cecil — "

AVhich of the periods does he mean ?

" — or gave a plausil)le form to some slander invented by tlie
dastardly malignity of Cobham — "

AVhat slander ?

Nay, don't ask mo. Torhaps ho t]u)Uglit himself on-
titled to iid'cr from I'.acoii's own excuse that tlic I >eclaiati()n

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 177

contained such things. In eagerly discUiiming all re-
sponsibility for the matter of the alterations made by the
Council, he may be supposed to admit that it was (in some
respects at least) such as he could not justify.

How can he be supposed to admit that tlie alterations
contained danders, when he expressly says that in framing
them " their Lordships were as religious and curious of
truth as desirous of satisfaction ? " — Prove that the altera-
tions contained anything slanderous, or anything dictated
by envy — (the charge of envy against Cecil is itself I
believe a slander) — and I will admit that in saying that
Bacon was not justiiled. For the slander itself he might
not be to blame ; but if ho knew that slanderous matter had
been inserted, I will admit that he ought not to have
answered for the veracity of the inserters. But remember
that we have no hint of such proof as yet. — Well, wdiat
could he not feel ?

Could he not feel " that he was not merely sinning against
his friend's liononr and his own? Could he not feel that
letters, eloquence, philosophy, were all degraded in his de-
gradation ? "

Is that all ? — The substance then of all this is, — that
Bacon, being commanded to draw up a true report of Essex's
case (for in the absence of all proof that it contains a single
lie, and in the presence of his express declaration that truth
was the object of all the parties concerned in drawing it up
I must still assume that it was to be a true report), ought
to have declined the task, and discharged it, because for-
sooth Essex was his/new*^, upon some " hack-writer witliout
virtue or shame." As if a " hack-writer without virtue or
shame " were a fit person to draw up an historical document ;
or as if it were a friend's part to consign one's fame to such
hands !

VOL. I. M

ITS TTTTATATr.S- WITH A EE VIE WEB.

Of course the reviewer must be iinderstoocl as sayini^
tliis on the assumption (an unjust one, I dare say ; certainly
an unsupported one) that the object of tlie document was
merely to slander and defame the character of Essex. Had
it been so, I do think it would have been Bacon's duty to
refuse to soil his own hands with it, oven at tht- risk of its
falling into worse. But assume the cas>; to have been (as
I suppose it was) one in which the vindication of the
Government required, n(»t perhaps a slanderous or unjust,
but a harsh and severe construction of the sufferer's con-
duct ; — was it a friend's part to undertake it ? Suppose
you were yourself called on to perform a task which could
not be performed properly without putting your friund's
character in the worst light, — would you not feel disposed
to decline it, as a task which would better become some one
who was )iot his friend ?

If I did, would my friend have any reason to thank me ?
I will put you a fair case. Your best friend and benefrtct(jr
shall do something for which he deserves to be hanged ;
yt't he shall not be a bad man, but generous, gentle, noble,
beloved ; he shall also " dearly expiate his offences " by
being hanged as he deserves. AVell ; for some reason or
other (I will not even insist upon its being a good reason),
it shall be determined by the party that ran iiim down —
{ioY to avoid preconceptions, it shall be the act of a partv,
not i.if a King or (^'neen ; neither will wti say which party;
nav, it shall be the whole House of Commons, if you like)- -
it shall be determined, I say, by this party to publish in
vindication (A their proceedings a statement of the case, —
an account of th*.; acts for which they impeached him, and
for which he suffered. I will not eve]i suppose that such
a vinilicati(jn is, in your opinion, called lor. 1 release vou
from all considerations (ji jiuhJii: duty in tiie case ; vou shall
think only of yi>ur friend and his reputation. All i stipu-
late for is, that you b(dieve the prosecution and the sentence

EVENINGS WITH A RE VI EWE n. 179

to have been just. And now comes the point. This party,
—knowing that he was your friend and benefactor, yet
knowing you to be a man of sense, justice, and veracity, —
propose that you should draw up this statement. There is
no want of persons wlio can do it ; there are plenty of
" hack-writers without virtue or shame " belonging to the
party, whose pens are sharp enough, and who will be only
too glad of an opportunity to write themselves and tlieir
party up by writing your friend down. AA'ritteu by some-
body it is to be. And, in short, if you will not undertake
it, the reviewer will. Now what will you do ?

M-m-m-m ! To leave one's friend's fame in this re-
viewer's hands when one might take it out of them, would
be a serious responsibility. But then on the otlier hand —
Tell me honestly, what would you do yourself?

You know the rule. AYhat would you have your friend
do for you in such a case ? But every man can answer best
for himself ; and for me, I can only say that if I should be
that unhappy friend of yours, I hope you will ]iot hesitate.
If my character as well as my body becomes public
property, let it be dissected handsomely and scientifically ;
not thrown like offal to a bear.

I suppose you are right. I suppose in refusing such an
office in such circumstances, a man would after all be acting-
out of regard to his own reputation, not to his friend's. We
dare not be true for fear of being thought false. — Yes ; I
give up.

And remember that the case I put is one specially dis-
charged of all considerations except that of regard to your
friend's memory. Bacon's case was different. He had to

180 rvEXTxas with a nEviEWEn.

consider his duty not only to the memory of Essex, but to
his country ; which had in fact an okh'r as \\e\\ as a stronger
claim upon him ; for he was an English subject, before he
was the friend of Essex.

You see therefore that, upon my view of the matter,
ever^i:]iing is ])lain and natural. There is nothinc? strange
to account for. According to Bacon's scale of duties, the
degrees were, — first, your God ; next, your King and
country ; then your friend ; last yourself. For a long time
all these duties drew in a line. Es^ex, when they first be-
came acquainted, seemed the likeliest instrument for the
service of religion and the state. ^Yhile he \\as moving in
that direction. Bacon strengthened him for the service with
the full force of his own counsel and industry. When ho
began to look aside from the path, Bacon laboured to keep
him in it. When he swerved. Bacon laboured to win him
back. When he got fatally astray. Bacon laboured to arrest
his course and to keep him quiet, if he could not keep him
right. When this too was hopeless, and his fortunes became
dangerously involved. Bacon still laboured to save them from
becoming desperate. When at last he turned quite round
and was coming headlong in a direction exactly opposite to
that along which they had both begun, and one still con-
tinued, to travel, Bacon withstood him to the face. AVhen
the act of so withstandins: him raised ao-ainst the Gcn'ern-
ment discontent and di.-afieetion, ]]acon stood forward to take
his own share of the odium, and would not (for fi.'ar of what
men might say) shrink from justifying the cause wliieh he
knew to be just.

So far the question had still been between liis friend and
liis country ; never, except collaterally and by accident, be-
tween his friend and himself. Jhit one trial more remained,
y.l)0\\ the accession of a ]iew King, supposed favourable to
J^ssex, the stream of j)opular indignation, no longer setting
against the state, was left to spend itself upon individuals.
Among these Bacon was most ('onspieU(jns. 3Iost ignorantly
and unjustly was he accused of having taken [lart against
the friend whom he had been doing all he could to serve; of

EVEyiXGS WITH A REVIEWER. 181

having been faitliless to his private, when he had only been
true (and because he had been true) to his public obligations ;
of having calumniated his benefactor for the sake of defend-
ing public injustice, when he had in fact been only defending
public justice against popular calumny. Most ignorantly
were these charges made; for they were made at a time when
nothing could be known of what he had really been doing ;
upon the credit only of such vain rumours as fly abroad
when rumours are most vain — rumours bred out of that
" pity in the common people, which if it run in a strong
stream doth ever cast up scandal and envy." Most unjustly
were they made; for those who made them were in a humour
to disbelieve everything that told against Essex, and to be-
lieve anything that told against those who were reputed to
have been his enemies. Now therefore, at last, the struggle
for Bacon was solely between regard for his own reputation
and tenderness for the memory of liis friend. The inculpa-
tion of Essex could now serve no public object ; yet without
it, his own exculpation (as you may judge from my answer
to this invective) could not be made complete. The heavier
we make the fault of Essex, the lighter we must of necessity
make the chariro a^^ainst Bacon. Yet about the faults of
Essex, Bacon is from this time forth tenderly and nobly
silent. Not a word more of censure passes his lips. He
vindicates himself ho\\\ the charge of ingratitude to his
friend by showing that he had laboured from first to last to
serve him ; that he had given him counsel, which if he had
followed in his best ibrtunes, they wouhl never have de-
clined ; if in his worst, they miglit still have been recovered;
that he had not desisted from interfering in his behalf until
interference became not only dangerous but useless. In
commemorating his virtues and acknowledging his benefits,
he is large and warm. But in justification of the trial, the
sentence, and the execution, he says scarcely a word. And
why ? Certainly not because he had nothing to say ; he
might have said at least all that I have said in his behalf;
but because he would not, out of regard for his own reputa-
tion and credit, keep alive for one day more tlie memory of

182 EVENIXGS WITH A BE VIE WEI?.

liis bcDcfar'tor's guilt. To any one who has generosity
enough in himself to sympathize ^\ith generosity in another,
and who remembers the circumstances under which it was
written, Bacon's " Apology," in its unstudied simplicity and
subdued earnestness, is one of the most affecting compo-
sitions that can be. Its sincerity can be doubted only, I
think, by tlie insincere. The very style bears witness to it,
— faltering, hurrying, breaking, — as a man's voice falters
when it P})eaks out of too full a iieart. To me at least, there
is sometliing in the reserve with which he touches upon the
last act of Essex's tragedy, inexpressibly affecting. The
earlier movements of disloyalty, aud especially the prepara-
tions which were making for the insurrection three montlis
bi'fore it took place, are not alluded to, or liglitly hinted at,
as " some slackness " in his demeanour towards the Queen.
The insurrection itself is only a "fatal impatience." The
8th of February is " the day of my Lord of Essex his mis-
fortune." Tliat most ungenerous and unjustitiable attack
upon himself at the trial (on the subject of the letters) is
only a thing " which it pleased my Lord venj strangehj to
mention at the bar." These are the strongest expressions of
censure whioh the paper contains. And iji fact, so tenderly
has he dealt with his friend's crime, that this very
"Apology" has had the effect of depriving him in the popular
iudgment of the benelit of his best excuse. 1 suppose tin's
may have been in his thoughts win n he said that he " must
reserve much wliich made for him. upon many respects of
dntv, which he esteemed al)ove his credit." Jhit however
tluit may 1)e, it is certain that his chariness in throwing
])'ame on J'^ssex has helped mankind to ibrget how much
Essex was to blame. And yet it was a reserve which om;
can pcri'cctly understand and approve ; for even at this
day one would bo sorry to bring to light the faults of a
character so noble, il' this I'oview ha'] wA inade it necessary
in order to vijiilicatc one so much iioldor.

J5iit ymi havci had my ]'eadiiig of the story. Wo -.wo
now to hear oni' of our rcA ic'wor's recapitulations — one ot' his
mastorpicces of compusitioii — liic greatest amount of false
eifect con\eved in the smallest nnmbi-r et words.

EVENINGS WITH A EEVIEWEB. 183

" The real explanation of all this is perfectly obvions, and
nothing but a partiality amounting to a ruling passion could
cause anybody to miss it. The moral qualities of Bacon were
not of a high order. We do not say that he was a bad man.
He was not inhuman or tyrannical. He bore with meekness
his high civil honoiirs, and the far higher honours gained by
his intellect. He was very seldom, if ever, provoked into treat-
ing any person with malignity and insolence. Ko man more
readily held up the left cheek to those who had smitten the
right. No man was more expert at the soft answer which
turnetli away wrath. He was never accused of intemperance
in his pleasures. His even temper, his flowing courtesy, the
general respectability of his demeanour, made a favourable
impression on those who saw him in situations which do not
severely try the principles. His faults were — we write it with
pain^coldness of heart and meanness of spirit."

To that proposition I shall only ask you to suspend your
assent, until you come to some instance in proof of it. To
any one familiar with Bacon's writings, I would confidently
protest against it as utterly untenable. There was never yet
cold heart which could utter words so feeling and so touch-
ing ; never yet mean spirit the natural movements of which
were at once so simple and so majestic. But it is useless
to debate where we are not agreed either upon principle or
facts. Bacon's faults were coldness of heart and meanness
of spirit ! xVud the reviewer writes it with pain ! ! — -Well ?

" He seems to have been incapable of feeling strong affection,
of facing great dangers, of making great sacrilices."

I wait to hear of the particular dangers and the par-
ticular sacrifices from which he shrank. Hitherto he has
not met with anything that has either deterred or seduced
liim I'roJu doiim' what he conceived to be his duty.

184 EVE XING S WTTII A nEVTEWEU.

Yon do not mean that moral coiiraije was one of his con-
spicuoiis virtues, do you ?

I don't know. He was not often in situations where
moral courage was conspicuously rc([uirod. A man wlio is
not quarrelsome may be brave enough, but has rarely occa-
nion to prove it. But I cannot at present recal any instance
in which he showed a want of courage. And as for making
great sacrilices, I rather think his whole life was a sacrilice
of objects wliich most people would have thonght great,
thouo^h thov may not have seemed R-reat to him.

IIow do you mean ?

I mean tliat lie passed tlie greater part of his life in
subordinate jiositions, above wliich he might no doubt have
risen, if he had boon willing to use the means which other
men much inferior to himself were using daily with success.

"His desires were set on tilings Luluw."

But two notes of admiration to that, -J)acon's desires set
on things below ! !

" Wcaltli. j.rr'cp.loncc. titles, patronage,— the mace, tlie seals,
the- cui-diiot, — lai-,u;(; liouses. Jair gardijiis, ririi iiian<.r.s, massy
S'-rvic'S ot plah:, gay ]iaiigiii;;s, cnridus cabiiicts,--~]ia(l as great
atti'aetions l(;i- liim as lor any of tin.' courliei-s Avho (li-u|i])cd
on llieir kneis in tlie dirt v.lien llli/.alMtli passr,] l,v, ami then
iMSJoned home to wrife (o llie King of Seols that her (iracc
s-r'ined tM l>e l.iw.akinu- last."

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. ] 85

Indeed ! If so, lie was, for a man of his talents, the most
nnsuccessful courtier on record, and for a man of his activity,
the idlest. But you are so familiar by this time with tlie
trick of the reviewer's style, that I need hardly draw your
attention to the construction of this last sentence. Tiie
kind of composition is not difficult. If I had a bill for
upholstery before me, I could easily — ■ But that would
draw me into personalities ; and the case needs no illustra-
tion. You see the trick of it. It is only to enumerate each
good thing with a sounding name that a man has ever been
in possession of, — to add a plural termination, — and then to
assume that because he had them \\hile he lived, they were
the things he lived for, — and tlie thing is done. Now only
look at this formidable array of objects, which are represented
as having such peculiar " attractions " for Bacon ; not merely
as having attractions for him ; — -(attractions no doubt they
had, being things for the most part of real value ; all con-
tributory, though not all essential, to the substantial powers,
dignities, comforts, or elegances of life ;) — but as liaving " as
great attractions ; " — -only think of that ; — having for Francis
Bacon " as great attractions," — " as for any of the courtiers,"
&c. Look through the list once more, and tell me which of
tliem he went out of his way for. They all lay in the direct
line of that career which he entered upon merely for the
sake of an honest livelihood in his nineteenth summer. And
for the manner of pursuing tliem — the only difference in
this respect between him and other diligent and successful
lawyers was, tliat he was longer in gaining wealth and freer
in tlirowing it away. He spent too much of it in laying out
" fair gardens," and too little in buying " rich manors." It
is true that for some thirteen or fourteen years in the latter
part of his life he had a large income ; but he was all tlie
time working hard for it in the sweat of his brow. No man
is blamed for taking the gifts which his industry earns or
his fortune brings. But when it is laid to his charge tbat
they have peculiar attractions for him, it is but reasonable

186 E VEXING S WITH A REVIEWER.

to ask for some instances of their attractive force. What
did he do, which but for thera he woidd have left undone; or
what leave undone, which but for them he would have done ?

That is a question which Macaulay seems very well
prepared to answer : —

" For these objects," (he goes on,) " he had stooped to every-
thing and endured everything."

I have yet to learn that he had stooped to a singde
uuAvorthy action. But tell us of something which he had
endured or to which he had stooped. Everything means
nothing.

" For these he had sued in the hniublcst mainici', and when
unjustly and ungraciously repulsed, he liad thanked those who
had repulsed him, and had begun to sue again."

Ay ; I thought we should catch him out when he con-
descended to particulars. Do you recognize our old friend
under this new disguise ?

You do not mean tliat he alludes to the old application
to ])urgldey to be called A\ithin the Bar, when he was live-
and-twenty ?

To be sure ho does. The " testy refusal " and the
" patience and ser(^nity Ixjrdcring on meanness." I told
you we should have some largo descripiions of Bacon's
liabitual demeanour drawn fi'om tliat i)nssage.

Tlicn we may sliilvc out that, withuui more wurds. Bet
us trv the n(,'xt.

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWED. 187

"For these objects, as soon as he found that the smallest
show of independence in Parliament was offensive to the Queen,
he had abased himself to the dust before her, and implored for-
giveness in terms better suited to a convicted thief than to a
knight of the shire."

Number two. Do yon remember the " abject apology "
and tlie debate on the money bill, which we discussed at
large at our third sitting ?

A^ery well. Strike out number two.

" For these he joined, and for these he forsook Lord Essex."

For these ho joined?

Yes ; tliat is the word. You know the reviewer repre-
sented him as joining Essex because he despaired of ad-
vancement through Burghley. I remember you showed
that the dates were incompatible with that supposition.
I agree to strike out number tliree.

" lie continued to plead his patron's cause with the Queen
as long as he thought that by pleading that cause he could serve
himself."

That is a new insinuation. His advocacy of Essex's
cause during bis disgrace ha<l credit, according to tlio
reviewer's own former statement, at least for disinterested-
ness as far as it went.

" Nay, he went further ; for his feelings, though not warm,
were kind; he pleaded that cause so long as ho thought thai
he could plead it without injury to himself."

Eonger tlum tliat ; — as long in fact as he could plead it
with anv advantau'i' to Essex.

188 i: VEXING S WITH A liEVIFAVEU,

Yes.

" But when it became evident that Essex was going head
long to his ruin, — "

Say rather (for the words are the reviewer's own), — " was
endeavouring to throw the whole country iuto confusion for
objects purely personal."

" — Bacon began to tremble for his own fortunes."

And why not for the fortunes of the country ?

" What he had to fear would not indeed have been very
alarming to a man of lofty character It was not death. It
was not imprisonment. It was the loss of Court-favour. It
was the being left behind by others in the career of ambition.
It was the having leisure to finish tlie Instauratio Magna. The
(J'uecn looked coldly upon him. Tlie courtiers began to consider
liim as a marked man. lie determined to change his line of
conduct, and to proceed in a new course, with so much vigour
as to make up for lost time."

Here again we have tlio ohl story repeated ; still, as
before, without any reference whatever to tlie nature of the
cause. As if au "endeavour to throw the whole country
into confusioji," were not a thing dangerous to tlie best
interests of the country, — a thing which it was the duty
of every man wiio loved his country to take part against.
it is said too as if Bac(ui had clucngi'd his course. He did
not change an inch. It was Essex that changed.

True. When Essex toolx the wrong side, ]>a('nn con-
tinued to stand by the right. Tliat point, I think^ you

EVENINGS WTTTT A BEVTEWEn. 180

have clearly made out. Therefore we may strike out number
four.

" When once he had determined, to act against his friend,
knowing himself to be suspected, he acted with more zeal than
would have been necessary or justifiable if he had been em-
ployed against a stranger."

Number five. You agreed, I think, to acquit him of
that charge.

Yes. He seems to have done nothing but what was
necessary to make out the case fully and fairly. By all
means let us keep one place in the land sacred to the
discovery of Truth. Out with number five.

" He exerted his professional talents to shed the Earl's
blood,— "

Only to show that he had done more than defend himself
against assassination.

" ■ — and his literary talents to blacken the Earl's memory."

Only to state truly what he had done. Out therefore
must go number six and seven. — Is there any more ?

No. I must confess that paragraph is effectually plucked.
It would be no bad deed to set up the skeleton as a scare-
crow. But stay, — here is still the tail left.

" It is certain that his conduct excited at the time great
and general disapprobation."

That I dare say is true. But what is it to the purpose,
unless we know who the disapprovers were, what the value

100 EVEXJXGS WITH A BEVIEWEU.

of their judgment, and what their means of knowing ? The
conduct of Bacon has excited since July 18o7 great and
general disapprobation ; because this article lias been since
that time generally read and greatly admired, and not at all
inquired into. Having shown you how baseless the asser-
tions and how worthless the judgments of the \\ritcr are, I
need scarcely remind you that the general disapprobation of
the British public for the last seven or eight years cannot
be pleaded as evidence, because it rests entii'cly upon a
false foundation. In the same way I decline to admit as
evidence the general disapprobation of the year IGUl, until
I know whether those who 'disapproved had either the means
of knowing or the faculty of judging. J^et some one man
be named who, living in those times and knowing what
Bacon's conduct had really been, condemned it. When I
can hear of sj^ch a man. I \\\\\ do my best to ascertain the
value of his opinion. But hitherto I have not heard any
such so much as named. Of one such man wlio thought it
quite right, I have heard ; and that was Bacon himself.

The challenge I think is but fair. As far however as I
am concerned, it is unnecessary. Popular censures in such
cases are never worth a straw as evidence in courts of
morality.

"AVliile Elizabeth lived, indeed, tlii.s disappvuljittion, thcugli
deeply fult, was nut luiully expressed."

AVas it ever more loudly expressed, during ]jacon's life-
time, Ibaii it was in the n.'ign of I'^li/ab^ th? As far as my
iid'oriiiation goes, tlie time wIkmi it was most loud and
violent was at tin- close ol' ].">ij!); at tlie time when lu; was
a(!tually doing all he amhl to serv(^ l']sse\, and oftending
the (^ueen by interceding lor him. It was then that ho was
threatened with assas.'^ination.

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEn. 191

What part of his conduct was it then that excited so
much disapprobation?

No part of his conduct ; but a false rumour that liad
gone abroad, which said that he had been advising the
Queen to bring Essex's case into the Star-Chamber ; a pro-
ceeding from which lie had in fact been using all his
influence in vain to dissuade her. AVhy should we suppose
that the disapprobation which was expressed afterwards
rested on any better grounds ?

It will be the revicAver's business to show that. — In the
mean time I suppose we may as well shut up for to-night ;
for I see he is going to tell us of a great change at hand.

Very well. Kemember that we have now accompanied
Bacon up to his fortieth year ; and that you have not as yet
been able to sustain any one of Macaulay's charges against
him. I may still claim for him the benefit of general good
character.

EVENING THE SIXTH.
A.

Before we go on with our article, I want you to sitisfy
me on one point which I forgot to mention at our hist sitting.
If I recollect it right, it goes against your account of the
part which Bacon took and the spirit in which he acted
with regard to the " Declaration of Treasons." You said
that part of the scheme was to jDrint as an appendix the very
words of the confessions and depositions upon which the
statements in the narrative part rested. Now I am sure I
have heard of the discovery not long ago of some manu-
script, from which it appeared, on the evidence of Bacon's
own handwriting, that he had himself garlled these con-
fessions and depositions, for the purpose of strengthening
the case against Essex. I am sure " garbled " was the word.

Oh yes. I can tell you all about that. And I am glad
you have reminded me of it ; for the story is instructive in
many ways.

Mr. David Jardine published in the " Library of Enter-
taining Knowledge " an account of some criminal trials,
including that of Essex and Southampton. He appears to
have bestowed some pains upon them, and to have wished to
execute his task in a fair and judicial spirit. Among other
things, he searched, or employed somebody to search, the
State Paper Office ; and there he found many of the depo-
sitions which were read at the trial, in their original con-
dition, with Sir Edward Coke's memoranda and direeti(jny a;-:
VOL. I. o

191 J^VEXJXGS WITH A ItEVlFAVElL

to wliat parts should be read, still legible in the margin.
In several places, however, he observed in another hanfl,
which he says is Bacon's, the letters om. written ; and upon
looking at the printed " Declaration " for the passages so
marked, he found that they were all omitted. Upon this he
concludes that the passages in question, though they had
been read and proved in Court, were struck out after the
trial by Bacon himseli', to suit the purposes of the Declara-
tion ; and then sets himself to guess what those purposes
might be. His conclusion is that the passages were omitted
because they tended to soften the case against Essex, and to
contradict or qualify in some of its material features the
story of the transaction wliich tlie Government thought fit
to circulate. And he represents it as " a flagrant instance
of partiality," and a " garbling of tlie depositions," of wliich
Bacon is thus proved to have been personally guilty.

Yes ; that is what I was thinking of. What do you say
to it?

I might ask first to see the passages. One thing however
I may say at once without seeing them. Even taking 31 r.
Jardine's own view of the effect and intention of tlie omis-
sions in question, still since wo know that material altera-
tions were made in Bacon's draught by " certain principal
councillors," — and that he "only gave style and furm of
words in pursuing their J.ord.ship^' direction," — it by no
means follows, because the directions to (imit were written
by him, that In^ is iinswerable for the act of omission. Ho
was attending " certain pi'in<'ipal coujicillors " with his pen
in his hand. One of them may have said to him, " \\c had
better not })rint that passage ; mark it for omission." Upon
what pretence could he, in the ])reparation of a State ducu-
jiient, not one word of which lie had a right to publish with-
(nit authority from the Council, have (jbjecled to the striking
out of •})assages wliich the Ccnmcil thought it expedient to

EVEXINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 195

suppress? If this was the real history of the transaction
(and it is quite as likely as any other), it is clear that he
was no more responsible for the act than the goose-quill
which he guided.

Moreover, to any one who looks carefully at the papers
in question, it will appear very doubtful whether tliese
marks of omission were originally made with any reference
to the proposed " Declaration." For though it is true that
none of the passages so marked for omission are inserted in
the appendix to the Declaration, yet it is also true that
several passages which are not so marked are nevertheless
omitted in the appendix to the Declaration ; and that
similar marks are found in other papers of whicli no part is
printed there. And when we remember how many persons,
each of whom had borne a different share in the rebellion, — ■
whose several cases therefore required each a separate proof,
— were to be tried upon the evidence contained in these
same confessions and depositions, we may easily suppose that
these marks were made with a view, not to the general
Declaration, but to the preparation of the cases against
some of these several delinquents ; the object of the omis-
sions being to clear the evidence in those cases of irrelevant
matter.

These are guesses ; — I mention them only to show how
questionable such imputations are ; and how far the mere
turning over of papers which nobody else has turned over,
is from entitling a man to be received as an authority upon
the matters to which they relate. In the case before us,
however, there is fortunately no occasion to encounter one
guess by another, or to rest anything upon questionable pre-
sumptions. For it hap[iens that whoever was responsible
for the act of writing these o/)i.'s, and whatever the object
may have been, the act itself was perfectly harmless. 3Ir.
Jardine's statement of the effect of the omissions is, upon the
very face of the paper itself, manifestly and absurdly wrong ;
and therefore his speculation upon the intention may be
safely dismissed. Would you believe that the very facts
which he gathers from these suppressed passages, and for

19G EVEXIXGS WITH A BEVlEWEll.

the purpose of concealing Avhich he supposes the passages
to have been suppressed, are tokl as distinctly as possible in
the narrative itself? — that the story which he charges the
Government with circulating is not the story told in this
their own especial manifesto, — and that the story to conceal
which he charges them with garbling the evidence, — is?
" In Gorge's deposition," says he —

Stay ; who was Gorge ? You forget that I know none of
the particulars of the evidence.

Let me see then, where shall I begin ? — You know— (or
if you don't, you are now to know) — that five days before
the insurrection there was a meeting of some of the prin-
cipal conspirators at Drury House, wliere Sir Charles Davers
lodged. Essex was not present himself ; but it was con-
vened by his direction for the express purpose of deliberating
upon certain definite projects ; and the better to assist the
deliberation, a schedule was provided of the names of the
friends on whom lie principally relied; of \\liom there were
one hundred and twenty. What these projects were, and
what passed at this consultation, it was at the time a matter
of mucli consequence to ascertain ; and it is still a matter
upon whieli it behoves every one to inform liimsclf who would
form a judgment on Essex's case. Upon this point Eliza-
beth's ministers contrived to extract from three of the persons
present very ample confessioDs; and .Sir Ecrdinando Gorge's
was the first. The three projects discussed were the seizing
(jf the Towel', tlio snrprising of the Court, and the stirring of
the City. Now 31r. .Tardine's notion is that the Govern-
ment wislied to have it believed that the insurrection in the
cifij was ])]aiined and resolved upo]i at that consultation; and
tiiat tliat part of Sir b'erdiiiandij's (le})Osition which goes to
])rove tiie contrary, was struclc out of the extracts a]>pended
to tlie "])ec]arati(jn of 'Treasons," on tliat account. Jjiit you
shall have his own words: —

EVENINGS WITH A BEVTEWEB. 107

" In Gorge's deposition, after stating that ' tlic projects at
Drury House were, whether they shouhl stir in London first, or
surprise the Court and Tower at the same instant,' the original
goes on to state, that ' the most resolved to attempt the Court
and Tower.' Can any man doiiht " (he proceeds) " that these
latter words were omitted by Bacon because they contradicted
the story published by the Government, not only to the people
of England by the preachers and other means, but to all the
world by the despatches of the foreign ambassadors,— namely,
that the insurrection in the city was planned and determined on
at Drury House ? So also in the passage which immediately
follows, the words ' they thought ' and ' began to ' must have
been struck out because they seemed to denote, not a settled
design, but merely a vague proposal,"

AVliat was the passage in which those words occurror] ?

" I prayed them first to set doAvn the manner how they tJiought
it might be done. Then Sir John Davis took ink and paper,
and began to assign to divers principal men their several places."

What was he speaking of? — tlie insurrection in tlio
city?

B.
No ; the surprising of the Court.

Was that all that was suppressed ?

No. The whole coucludiDg part of the deposition was
omitted ; from which it appears that Gorge was against tlio
attempting of the Court or Tower ; and recommended rather
that the stirring of Essex's friends in the city should be
tried first : —

" — which recommendation was so evil liked of, that they brake
up, and resolved of nothing; but referred all to my Lord of
Essex himself."

108 ■ EVEXIXOS WITH A nEVIEU'EIi.

AVell. And what was tlie version of tlie story which tho
preachers and foreign ambassadors had puLlished to the
wurhl ?

AVhv even in the directions given to tJiem I liave not
been able to find any such statement as 3[r. Jardine cliarges
the Government with. But what have these to do witli tlie
matter? They were of an earlier date than the Declaration;
and Bacon had nothing to do with them, Tlie first question
surely is, what is the version of tho story given in the body
of tlie Declaration itself, — the story in attestation of wliich
these "garbled" depositions arc a})pealod to? You shall
have it in its own words : —

"For the action itself, there "was proposition made of two
principal articles; the one of possessing the Tower of London,
the other of surprising her Majesty's person and tlie Court ; in
Avhich also deliberation was had what course to hold with tlus
city, either towards the elfecting of the surju-ise or atter it was
eifected."

So far at least you will admit that there is no misrepre-
sentation of the facts, nor any insinuation that the insurrec-
tion in the city was planned and determined on at that
consultation. He then states the reasons for which the first
(jf the t\\(> })rincipal articles — the jiossessing of the Tower —
was '■' by the opini(m of all rejectetl ; " an<l ]^)roc('eds : —

"But tlie latter — which was the anciint plot, as was Avell
known to Southampton, — was by the general ojunion of them all
insisted and rested upon."

The story therefore jilainly is, that what "was planned
and determined on" was n(jt the insurroetion in the citv, but
the surprise of the Court. And he afterwards explains that
tlie res(duti(ms were "to be report(^d to Mssex, \\liu ever k'e])t
in himself the binding and decidinir voice."

EVENIKOS WITH A REVIEWER. 199

But did lie not say that there was also some deliberation
about the course to be taken with the city ? What became
of that ?

Yes ; as if to prevent the possibility of any misconcep-
tion on that head, he adds, after detailing the manner in
which they proposed to manage the surprise of the Court, —
(and adds it in a paragraph professedly parenthetical) : —

" There passed a speech also in this conspiracy of possessing
the city of London, -wliich Essex himself in his own particular
and secret inclination had ever a special mind nnto."

But instead of saying that the " speech " ended in any
resolution, he merely suggests the probable grounds and
motives of Essex's opinion, and quits the subject with " But
to return : these were the resolutions " — and so on. If there-
fore the suppressed passages seemed to denote (as Mr. Jar-
dine says), " not a settled design, but merely a vague pro-
posal," I do not know how the true import of them could be
more accurately conveyed.

Certainly it would seem that 3[r. Jardine had not read
that part of the Declaration. But if the story which Bacon
tells agrees wiih the passages tlius omitted from the depo-
sitions, what reason could there be for striking them out ?

There may have been twenty good reasons which we can-
not now know of. IMany eminent and honourable persons
were implicated either personally or through their friends,
many important interests were affected and many angry and
dangerous feelings irritated, by that conspiracy. Of the
persons who had been actually engaged in the rebellion, there
were only a few against whom it was thought necessary to
proceed with severity. Those whoso lives were to be spared,
it was desirable also to spare in their reputation, and not

200 JE VEXING S WITH A BEVIEWEB.

needlessly to exhibit them to the public as engaged in an
undertaking Avhich was in all ways so discreditable. Mr. Jar-
dine has restored a few of the omitted passages — (why ho did
not either restore them all when he was about it, or explain his
reason for not restoring them all, — why, at the very least, ho
has not warned us of the fact that others are omitted besides
those which he has restored, — I cannot guess ; but so it is)
— and these he has distinguished by italics ; and in almost
every one of these some motive of the kind is immediately
visible. In that- which wo have just been speaking of,
Southampton i^ represented not only as taking a leading
part in the consultation, but as declaring that he had been
engaged in the undertaking for more than three months ; a
fact which has been allowed to sleep ever since the trial,
until 3[r. Jardine thus disinterred it. And Sir Ferdinando
Gorge himself (who was already an object of popular odium
from an unjust imputation of treacliery) admits, what could
not have been gathered from the narrative, that he person-
ally advised the stirring of the city. Now both South-
ampton and Gorge were marked for pardon.

Again : references are made in the body of the paper to
a declaration made by Sir Henry Neville, who was in fact
implicated slightly, and had been accused by Essex of being
further implicated than he really was, — and this declaration
is not printed. Now we luqipen to know that it was with-
held by his own particular desire. A letter of his to Cecil,
or a memorandum of the contents of a letter, to tliat effect is
still extant. Jlis declaration itself, all written in his own
hand, may be still seen at tlie State Paper Oilice ; and there
is nothing in it tliat mends Essex's case.

Again : in the Earl of Itutland's confession there were
claus(;s stating tliat tlie " Earl of Southampton had shown
himself discontented long before;"* — that (about six weeks
before) he had sent one of the Earl of Euthmd's servants
"into France for saddles, pistols, and other things ; " — that
" Sir Joliii llcydon cried out divers times, 'For the (^ueen,

* Mr. Jiinliiic prints tliis first sfnteucf in italics (:is bciuf^ omitted in tho
iJfM'lanitiou), but for .soinu iinL'X)>laim.d reason says notliing about tlio rest.

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER. 201

for the Queen ! ' " — and that Essex had, on the morning of
the insurrection, told the Earl of Rutland " and other his
company, that The Earl of Sussex would be with them pre-
sently." These passages are all omitted in the appendix to
the Declaration — (no marks of oni., by the way, in the MS.)
— wliy ? Out of consideration, no doubt, for the reputation
of the persons whom they implicate : namely, of the Earl of
Southampton ; a very young man, who had been misled and
was sorry for what he had done, and whose offences it was
not necessary to bring again upon the stage, as they were not
to be further punished ; — of Sir John Heydon, whose name
does not appear at ail, I think, in the report of the proceed-
ings ; — and of the Earl of Sussex, whose name was probably
used by Essex merely for countenance, and without any
authoi-ity.

Again : a portion of the examination of Edward Bushell
appears to have been read at the trial, which represents
Essex as having said, that " if a certain black purse he had
about his neck were found, it should appear hovj lie ivas he-
trayed in the citi/.'' This does not appear amon.g the evi-
dence appended to the Declaration ; for it would have been
understood as referring to Slieriff Smith, who had been
falsely represented as a favourer of tlie conspiracy.

Attain : an examination of Lord Montea2:le is omitted
entirely ; I suppose because it brings him needlessly on
the stage as implicated in the attempt to stir the city.

Again : Sir Walter Ealeigh's deposition represents Sir
Ferdinando Gorge as recommending him (on the morning
of the insurrection) to get back to the Court with speed, for
" the Earl of Essex had put himself into a strong guard at
Essex House, and you are like to have a Moody day of it."
This deposition, though a rather important one, is not given,
— out of consideration no doubt for Sir Ferdinando.

xVgain : the entire examination of Henry Widdrington,
though it tells strongly against Essex, is omitted ; I do
not know why, unless it be because Essex in his reply urged
good reasons to take off tlie weight of his testimony.

Again: a sentence is omitted from Sir Christopher

202 Ei'Lwixas vniii a nr/, ieweh.

r>limt's confession, in which, being asked whether it were
against the Queens forces that they meant to secure the Earl
by aid of the city, ho says, " Tiiat must liavc been judged
afterwards ; for the forces miglit he such as came hy direction
of such of his enemies'' [the J^arl's enemies] "as might have
had authority to command in the Queens name, and vouldhavc
done that witlioutthe Queen's privity; " — an admission whicli
(though Mr. Jardine says that it '■ qualifies the preceding
statement ") does in fact mal<e the case worse for Essex.
For it clearly admits that the defence contemplated was not
(as Essex pretended) against private enemies, but against
the Queen s forces ; the only question being wliether their
lawful commander might not be exceeding his commission ;
— an absurd distinction, under plea of wliich (if it were
allowed) any rebel might take up arms against any con-
stituted authority. Why then was it omitted ? As pointing
(I fancy) at Ealeigli, wlio was tlien Captain of tlie Guard ;
and conveying an insinuation which, though quite false and
groundless, was lilcely enougli to bo believed by the })eople
and to inflame their hatred against him ; the rather, too,
because Sir Christopher Blunt had asked of Sir Walter
Ealeigh forgiveness " for th(^ wrong he had done him," [viz.
shooting at him on the river.] "and for his particular ill
intent towards him ; " and they had exchanged forgiveness
just befure his death. The omission of such an insinuation
as this may have been prompted as mucli by consideration
for \\liat Sir Christopher would have wislieil, as lor what was
due to Kaleigh.

These of course are only guesses ; and there are one or
two other (unimportant) omissitjns the causes of which \
cannot eveii guess. J hit this 1 may say m general : — I have
carefully examined all these suppressed passages; both the
single sentences which ^Mr. Jardine has restored and dis-
tinguished by italics : and the other single sentences which
he has (in his hurry 1 suppose) overlooked altogether; and
the entire depositions, th(! suj»pression of which 1m' has not
]ioticed ; and I have found nothing in anv of tluun which

EVENINGS WITH A EE VIEWER. 203

tends to extenuate tlio offence of Essex, or to contradict the
story of the Declaration ; but somcthinf^ in almost every one
of them which tends to inculpate (either needlessly or un-
justly) somebody else. Whether therefore the act of sup-
pressing them be attributable to the Council, or to tlie
Queen, or to Bacon himself, is a question which I am not
concerned to settle. Whoever did it, it was certainly harm-
less, for it tended in no degree to pervert the truth ; and, as
far as one can guess, it was suggested by a feeling of just
and considerate mercy. But whatever the motives may have
been, they have long since expired. And when I come
myself to edit this Declaration, I shall think it right (not
only for the sake of showing that they are not inconsistent
with it, but really for the sake of better illustrating and
confirming it) to print within brackets all the passages thus
omitted, in their proper place.-;.*

Well, if this be all that is meant by that black word
" garhling,'' one need not be much moved by it.

No. And I may as well warn you that this is the sense
in which ]Mr. Jardine commonly uses the word. Tell him
that a word has been left out or altered, he does not stop to
ask whether it alters the sense or not, but sets it down at
once as " garbling." According to which use of the word,
the garbling of State-papers has with us become a recognized
and authorized practice. When a member of parliament
moves for the production of an official correspondence, he
moves not for copies, but for copies or extracts. Xow an
" extract of a despatch " is, in our modern official phrase-
ology, exactly what Mr. Jardine would call a " garbled "
despatch. It is understood to be a copy with no words
inserted which ai'C not in the original, but with as many
omitted as the Government think expedient. Neither are
the places where omissions occur indicated by marhs of

* Tlii.-j has been done in the " T^cttcrs ami Life," Vol. ii., p. 292-385.

201: El'EXIXns WITH A nEVJEWER.

omission (wliicli I think they ought always to be), hut the
faith of the Government is supposed to be discharged if
words are not omitted in such a manner as to pervert the
meaning of the sentence.

The Government being themselves the judges.

Yes ; there is no help for that. But this is from our
business. Do you agree to acquit Bacon of 3[r. Jardine's
charge ?

Willingly. I will bear witness that he has borne a good
character hitherto to the best of my knowledge.

Let me see, where did we leave off? Oh, page 31. Do
you know that wo are not yet half through the first division
of the article ?

"But a great cliangc was at hand. The health of the Queen
had long Leeu decaying, and the oi^eration of age and disease
Avas now assisted by acute mental sufi'ering. The pitiable
melancholy of her last days has generally been ascribed to her
fond regret for ]■]s^:ex. But we are disposed to attribute her
dejection partly to physical causes, and partly to the conduct
of her courtiers and niiiiisters. They did all in their power
to conceal from her the intri!j,ues which they wci'c cairying on
at the Court of Scotland. But her keen sai^-Hcity was not to be
so deceived. She did not know the whole. But she knew that
she was surrounded by men avIio were impatient for tliat new
World which was to begin at lier dealli — "

Were they ijuleod ? Her people might perhaps be im-
patient fur a new woihl, as people always do look forward
with hope and |)h'asur(.' to a change ; but surely not her
miniHters. By all politicians the greatest apprehensions were
entertained of trouble and confusion likt'ly to arise at her
death. No successor declared. IMany rival interests both
at home and abroad watcliing their opportunity. Xo man

EVENINGS WITH A RE VIE WEIL 205

knowing what the other thought. Much worth the striking
for by many who were out of office ; much therefore to be
lost by those who were in. If they were impatient, it couhl
only be as men are impatient to be relieved from anxiety, —
as men over whom a danger impends are impatient to have
the crisis over, one way or another. If it had been possible
to make Elizabeth immortal, the men ''by whom she was
surrounded " w^ould have done it at the cost of half their
substance.

" — who had never been attached to her by affection — "

What ! Elizabetli's ministers never attached to her by
affection !

" — and who were now very slightly attached to her by interest."

If so, it could only be because their interest in her had
so short a time to run.

" Prostration and flattery could not conceal from her the
cruel truth, that those whom she had trusted and promoted had
never loved her, and were fast ceasing to fear her. Unable to
avenge herself, and too proud to complain, she suffered sorrow
and resentment to prey on her heart, till after a long career of
power, prosperity, and glory, she died sick and weary of tho
world."

All which will, I suppose, be set down in the next
history of England as part of the narrative. As yet wo
have the advantage of knowing that it is only what the
reviewer is " inclined " to suppose. And surely it is a most
idle and extravagant display of originality. Wiial Prince

206 EV£XJXGS WITH A nEVlEWEJL

was ever served for love, if not Elizabeth ? ^Miat Prince's
dt'atli was ever deprecated, if liers was not ? What colour
is there for such a notion, more tlian the Larc fact that her
ministers had been secretly negotiating with James ? And
yet how did that argue any want of affection for her? Tlie
motive for tliose negotiations was obvious and Uiitural ; the
occasion in ftict urgent. It had been part of her policy, — a
weakness if you ^\il], — to forbid during her life all speech of
a successor. But die she must ; and a successor must be
thouirht of. Since slie would not allow anv arrangements
to be made for licr, it was merely necessary thut they should
make arrangements for themselves. It is true that every-
thing did in fact come round praeeably and prosperously,
and without any difficulty. But that it did so was a matter
of astonishment to the whole nation.

I dare siy }ou are riglit. But h-t us get on witli our
proper business.

"James nunuiti.'d tlic throne; H)id I'acou eiiiployed all lii.s
address to obtain for himself a share of tlie favoiir of las new
master. This was no diflicult task. Tlie faults of .James hnth
as a man and as a Brincc were numerous: hut insensiljility to
the claims of learning and genius was not aniong them. He
■was indeed made up of two men, — a witty, well-read scholar,
who Avi'ote, (lis})uted and liarangued, — and a nervous drivelling
iJiot, who acted. If he liad been a (.'anon of Christ riiureh or
a I'rehendary of ^Vestuunster, it is not improhaMe tliat ho
W(juld h:ive left a highly respoetalile name to posterity, — llint
lie would have distinguished himself among the tianslators of
the Bible, and among the ])i^•ines wh ) attended the .Synod of
])ort, — that he would have been regai'ded hy tin; liierarv woild
as nu eontcmplilip; rival of A'ossins and ('asauhon. Ibit fortune
jilaccd hiiH in a situation in Avhich his wi'akness covered him
Avith disgrace, and in Avhieh liis aceomjilisliments lirou;j,-ht him
no honour. Jii a coHcli^c! niudi eceinti'icit y and childishness
Avould Jiavc liccn readily ]iardoinMl in so leaiiicd a man. Tiiit
all tliat learniii;^; conld do for him on the throne \vas to ]uake
))eij}de think him a pedant as well as a fjol."'

EVENINGS WITH A It E VIEW Eli. 207

I sujDpose you will not think it worth while to stop and
examine this character of James. But if I let it pass, you
are not therefore to set me down as assenting even to the
accuracy of it as far as it goes ; much less to the complete-
ness of it. It is true that James's character was ill-fitted
to deal with the critical times on which he fell. But it is
not at all true that his actions (except possibly in the few
last years of his reign) were those of a drivelling idiot. It
is not even true that, at the time, they were generally
thought so. His popular reputation as a pedant and a fool
is of much later growth. His subjects never doubted his
wisdom ; and though they did not fear him, they never
despised him. The truth is, that he was remarkable not
only among kings, but among men, for the absence of all
affectation and reserve, and was sadly wanting in the great
gift of holding his tongue ; and (as mankind always measure
a man's ability by his success) when we look back upon his
reign and see that the broad result was failure, we infer that
he ^\'as a fool ; 'uhen v,e remember how quick he was in
learning and how much he knew, we add learning to folly
and call him pedant ; and being prepossessed with this
idea of his character, we find in the perpetual droppings
of that fertile brain and loose tongue, abundant and amusiug
illustrations of it. But I must confess, for my own part,
that the more I become acquainted with him, the more I
feel not only a great personal Icindncss for him, but a con-
viction that, as a governor, he was botJi wise and patriotic ;
— wise in his views, patriotic in his desires and purposes.
But then he had three great failiiigs ; — so gi'cat, that they
vs'cre sufficient oi themselves to malvc his wliole life a failure.
He could not command or reserve his affections ; he could
not disappoint his inclinations ; and he could not hold his
tongue. Tlie first made him continually submit his own
judgment to the will of his fevourites ; the second kept
him in continual poverty ; the tliird, by provoking him
to measure his own sinude wit against a whole House of

208 j-:v£yjXGS with a HEVjEwi:n.

Commons, and thereby to set bis reputation upon tbe bazard
of tbe vote of a popular assembly, lost bim all majesty in
tbe eyes of bis people. But if bo bad not tallced so mucb,
I question ^vbetber, even now, bis acts would bave been
tbougbt foolisli.

However it is premature to discuss tbe cbaractcr of bis
reign at tbe very entrance of it. Tbere is at least no doubt
of tbis, — tbat be ascended tbe tbrone amid general acclama-
tions of joy, witb groat reputation, and full of promise.
Had be been blown up on tbe 5tb of November, 1605, it
would bave been universally lamented as tbe blasting of
one of tbe fairest bopes tbat a nation was ever flattered witb
in tbe personal cbaracter of a King.

I fancy I shall want some further satisfaction on these
points before I bave done. But we will go on now with
Bacon.

" Bacon was favourably received at Court, and Boon found
that Ills chance of promotion was not diminished by the death
of the (^)ueen. lie w-as solicitous to be kniglitcd, for two
reasons, which are somewliat amnsing. '^^I'he King had already
dubbed half London, and l»aeon found liimself the only untitled
jierson in his mess at Gray's Inn. This was not very agreeable
to him. lie had also 'found an alderman's daughter, ;i hand-
some maiden, to his liking.' On both tliese groxnids he begged
liis cousin Iiobert Cecil, 'if it might please his good Lordship,'
to use his interest in his belialf. The apj)liL'atiun was succci^sfid.
Bacon was one of tlirce liundred gentlemen, Avho on the Coro-
nation-day received the lionour, if it is to he so called, of
knighthood. The handsome maiden, the daughter of Ahlerman
Barnham, soon after consented to become Sir Francis's Lady."

This wrtuld bo too trifling a matter to stop for, were it
not told witli a hind of cont('m|»tuous clundvle, as if an
absurd pride in ^ain and conventional distinctions, and a
sycophantic habit ol' plastering great })ersons witb their
titles, liad bccji characteristic (;f the man. And such tones

EVENINGS WITH A EE VIEW Eli. 209

anrl gestures (as one may call tliem) of style produce more
effect than you would think. Every reader wIkj is not
continually on his guard will naturally fall into such a
sympathy with his writer, as to receive impressions almost
unconsciously from indirect and impalpable insinuations of
this kind. They take liim at unawares, and bespeak his
judgment without its own consent. In this instance I beg
leave to protest against any such insinuation. I utterly
deny that an undue value for titular distinctions was at all
characteristic of Bacon, — that he desired them for himself
further than as they were the ordinary decorations and the
recognized stamp of honour and rank ; or that he obtruded
them upon others more than the manners of the time
required. But this you will say is my partiality. Then let
us a})ply the test, which I think you will admit has never
failed me yet. Let us have the matter in Bacon's own
words, not in the reviewer's version of them. The words,
I should premise, occur at the close of a ratlier long letter
full of other matters, — a letter not written for the purpose
of asking Cecil's interest in obtaining a kniglithood for him,
but in answer to some communication from Cecil himself,
who had at this time been taking a very friendly interest
in Bacon's fortunes, had been lending him money, and
assisting to extricate him from some " disgrace " (the par-
ticulars of which we do not know, but probably some arr^ st
for debt while employed in the King's service, like that
affair of the goldsmith four or five years before), and luid
(as I guess, though I cannot positively affirm) offered to use
his interest in getting liim knighted. I should also tell you
that Bac 'U, far from being absorbed at this time in the
l)ursuit of vanities, was diligently occupied in clearing his
estate from embarrassments by the sale of his lands, with
the professed intention of withdrawing from State-business
and sitting down to his profession and his studies. The
death of tlie Queen had set him free so far as old attach-
ment and obligation were concerned ; the death of his
brother (two years before) had left him what remained of
his paternal estate, which was not large, and was mucli

VOL. I. P

210 EVEXIXGS WITH A REVIEWER.

encumbered with debt. This therefore \vas the time to
recover himself from pecuniary embarrassments, to phico
his finances upon a sound footing, and to new-shape his
course for the future.

It was in these circumstances that he wrote to Cecil
(after speaking of some money-matter then pressing) in
these words : —

" For my estate, because your Lordship hath care of it, it is
thus : I shall be able, with selling the skirts of my liviiig in
Hertfordshire, to preserve the body; and to leave myself, being
clearly out of debt, and Laving some money in my pocket,
;)00/. land per annum, — with a fair house and the ground well-
timbered. This is now my labour.

"For my purpose or course, 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 advancement. For as for any
smbition, I do assTire your Honour mine is quenched. In the
Queen's, my excellent mislress's, time, the quorum was small ;
l.'Cr service was a kind of fi'eehohl ; and it was a more solemn
time. All those points agreed with my nature ami judgment.
My ambition now I shall only put upon my pen, whereby-
I sludl be able to maintain memoiy and merit of the times
succeeding."

I nuiy mention, by the way, that r)aeon lia<l received no
rebuff tliat we know of; and it was but two inuntlis since
the King's arrival in London ; so there liad been no time
for tlie grapes to grow sour. And now fur the kniglit-
hood : — ■

"Lastly, for this divulged and almost prostituted title of
knightliood, I coidd, — without charge, by yt)ur Honour's mean,
— lie content to have it ; botli because of this late disgrace, and
1 eciUKc J l;ave tliree new kniglits in my mess in Gray's Inn
coniiimns ; and because I liave found out an aldciiuan's daughter,
a handsome maiden, to my liking. So as if your Honour will
find the time, I will como to the Court from Gorhainbury upon
any earning."

And agiUii, about a fortnight after, (and also at the close
of a letter about other business.) lie writes: —

" For my knightliood, I wisli the manner might Ijc sueh as

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 211

miglit grace me, since the matter will not : I mean, tliat I
miglit not be merely gregarious in a troop. The Coronation is
at hand. It may please your Lordship to let me hear from you
speedily."

Are these letters some of your own recent discoYorics ?

Oh no. They were first printed by Birch about eiglity
years since, and are in all the editions of the works. They
were found among Cecil's papers at Hatfield. The reviewer
knew it all ; and it was in fact all he knew. And now, what
is there in it to chuckle at ? Knighthood, uubought, and
bestowed with judgment and selection upon worthy objects
(as till then it had always been), was in those times a very
honourable distinction ; not less honourable, I fancy, than
the Order of the Bath is now. True, it was soon to lose this
dignity by being made venal and promiscuous. But it had
not lost it yet ; and even if it had begun already to fade,
what then ? It may be a slight not to receive what it may
be no great honour to receive. Lord Cecil asks Bacon
(sm-ely a fit object) whether he would not like to be
knighted. Bacon answers, Yes, provided it be " without
charge," that is, given, not bought ; and " by your Honour's
mean," that is, given, not upon his own application, but
upon the recommendation of a principal Counsellor : and
provided also that it be conferred in such a manner as to
give it a character of selectness and distinction. An honour
of this kind, proceeding from the fountain of honour, was
at that time a thing of substance, not vain show. It was
looked upon, not by lackeys only, but by all the world,
as the outward sign of inward worth, conferred by those
who could best judge of that worth as an evidence to those
who could not. " Sir Francis Bacon " was in the year KJOo
to " Master Francis Bacon " just what in the year 184-1
" Lord Metcalfe " was to " Sir Charles Metcalfe " : the
" Sir " in the first case, as the ' Lord ' in the second, being
simply a mark of distinction for services well-done.

212 EVEXIXGS WITH A HE VIEWER.

And as for tlio otlier point by whicli tlic reviewer seems
" soinewhat amused," I need hardly remind yon, that " it
may please yonr liOrdsliip," meant no more then than " my
dear Lord " means now. It was the ordinary phrase witli
which every letter addressed to a Lord, or even to an
ambassador, by a person of inferior rank, began ; no matter
how near or how distant the acquaintance. Bacon never
wrote to his mother but he began, " it may please your good
Ladyship." The thing was a matter of course. But, as
introduced here, it contributes not the less to the general
effect, and I suppose to the general purpose of the passage,
namely that of holding up Bacon to contempt, as a man
with the soul of a courtier and the tongue of a sycophant.

Yes, you were right to stop for this. And between
ourselves, these smaller kinds of misrepresentation are what
I like worse than all the rest. When a man invei<i-hs a^fainst
another (however unjustly) as guilty of a great crime, it is
often a just hatred of the crime that misleads him. lie
sees the crime in tlie criminal, and is in fict inveigliiug
against it. I never yet met with a ve)'i/ honest man wlu)
could be really just to a man charged witli dishonesty.
Your very honest man is so shocked at the notion of
apologizing for dislionesty, that he overleaps the previous
question, whether the dishonest tiling has been really done,
or whether tlie culprit before him be really the man who
did it. But in matters of this kind, in wliich at tlie very
^\orst there is nothing to j)nt the moral sense in a passion,
lliat a man should be always exaggerating, misc(jlouring,
and traducing, — it seems to argue a tone of feeling habitu-
ally un . . . . — However, we must not both take part against
the r<'vi(nvcr, or we shall ])<■ falling into tlu; honest man's
error ourschcs. ^ uu may dcpcjid upon mv takiii"- no
iiiiprcssion IVoni tlio last [»ai'agi'a]ili.

" Tliu iballi (>f' llli/.aliL-tli, lliougli on tlie whole it iiiijiniA-cil
]):icou's prosjiects, was in one respect an unlortunale (•vent tor
liini. 'Ilio new KiiiLi- hail al\va\s felt kindly towaids bold I'.smx,

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 213

Avlio had been zealous for tlio Scotcli succession ; and as soon as he
came to the throne began to show favour to the liouso of Deve-
reux, and to those who had stood by that house in its adversity.
Everybody was now at liberty to speak out respecting those
lamentable events in which Bacon had borne so large a share."

Yes, to speak out : but to speak out icliat ? — lies or
truth ? There were some important parts of the truth with
regard to Essex, which, after James's accession, it must have
Leeu very awkward to meddle with.

" Elizabeth was scarcely cold, when the public feeling began
t > manifest itself by marks of respect to Lord Southampton.
1'hat accomplished nobleman, who will be remembered to the
latest ages as the generous and di.Ncerning patron of Shake-
speare, was held in honour by his contemporaries chiefly on
account of the devoted affection which he had borne to Essex.
Ife had been tried and convicted together with his friend; but
the Queen had spared his life, and at the time of her death he
was still a prisoner. A crowd of visitors hastened to the Tower
to congiatulate him upon his approaching deliverance. With
that crowd Bacon could not venture to mingle. The multitude
loudly condemned him; and his own conscience told him that
the multitude had but too much reason."

That can be only as the reviewer guesses, upon his own
assumption that the multitude Avere iu the right. Bacon
himself never for a moment admitted this ; but, on tlie
contrary, expressly declared " that for any action of his
towards the Earl of Essex, there was nothing that passed
him in his lifetime which came to his remembrance with
more clearness and less check of conscience." Beware there-
fore how you take an impression from this passage that
Bacon's own conscience caD be cited as one of the witnesses
against him.

Oh yes, I understand all tliat. The reviewer tells the
story according to his o\Nn reading of it. But he is going, I

214 EVENIXGS WITH A liEVIEWER.

think, to tell us something new in confirmation of this
assumption.

" lie excused himself to Southampton hy letter, in terms
which, if he had, as Mr. 3Iontagu conceives, done only what as
a subject and an advocate he was bound to do, must be considered
as shamefully servile, lie owns his fear that his attendance
would give oilence, and that his 2)rofessions of regard wuuld
obtain no credit. ' Yet,' says he, ' it is as true as a thing that
God knoweth, that this great change hath wroiight in me no
other change towards your Lordship than this, that I may safely
be that to you now wliich I was truly before.' "

I move that this letter be produced. There is nothing
so likely to detect a man who has done anything wrong, as
a comparison of the excuses he makes to different people on
the same occasion. His case must be very good, or his
honesty very great, if he is not betrayed into some incon-
sistency. But first let me hear how his case did really stand
with Southampton. For I do not remendjer that he lias
been charged with having done Southam[)ton any ill office,
beyond maintaining at the trial tliat the offence for whicli he
was arraigned was apparent treason. And since (whatever
may be thought of his obligations to Essex) lie certainly
stood under no such obligation to Southampton as couM
have made it his duty to rpiarrcd with the (^)ue('n rather than
ui)[)uar against Jtini on sucli an occasion, 1 do not so well
see wliat it was tliat lie had to excuse, lias ho boon sup-
[loscd to have taken any part against Southampton ('jU-r the
trial ?

N(jt tliat 1 ever heai'd of. And since it is not pretemh-d
lliat tile arraigniiu'nt was in itself unjust, — since not a single
iiarsh \\o]'d lias been re])orted as ultereil 1)\- iiini personally
against Soutlianijiton, — since the name of S(»uthani})ton is in
the Declaration of 'treasons handled as tendci'ly and lightly
as jiossible, — it seems t(j be (piitt.; clear that ho liad notiiing
to excuse. J'^or mys<'ll' at h-ast, i ha\o little douht that
liacon had not oiilvdoiie nothing against him e.xocpt wluit
as a subject lie was bound to do; but that he had shared

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 215

tlie anxiety which was felt, not by the public alone, but
also by the Queen's ministers (at least by two of them,
Nottingham and Cecil), for his preservation. There is a
letter from Cecil to Sir George Carew, in which, after detail-
ing the particulars of the conspiracy and the trial, he
proceeds : —

*' It remaineth now that I let you know what is like to be-
come of the poor young Earl of Southampton, who merely for
the love of the Earl hath been drawn into this action ; who in
respect that most of the conspiracies were at Drur}^ House, where
be was always chief, and wdiere Sir Charles Davers lay, those
that would deal for him (of which number I protest to God I am
one as far as I dare) are much dijsadvantaged of arguments to
save him. And yet when I consider how penitent he is, and
how merciful the Queen is, and that never in thought or deed
hut in this conspiracy he offended, — as I cannot write in despair,
so I dare not flatter myself with hope."

And Nottingham, sending to Lord Monntjoy a few days
later an account of Essex's confession, adds in a postscript : —

"There hath been execTitcd, the Earl of Essex, Sir Charles
Davers, Sir Christopher Blunt, Sir Gilly Mericke, and Cuffe. And
I trust they shall be all. For the Earl of Southampt(Ui, though
he be condemned, yet I hope w^ell for his life; for 31r. Secretary
and my.self use all our wits and power fur it."

This seems to be conclusive as to the feeliiiir of thpse two
ministers ; why sliouhl we suppose that Bacon took a different
part? What part he actually took after the trial is not
known except from his own account, and from the general
handling of the subject in the " Declaration." But so far as
that evidence goes, it goes to show that he did (as from his
character and position one would have anticipated) work in
tlie same spirit with Cecil and Nottingham. And though he
does not in the " Apology " mention Southampton's name,
there is a passage in which I always fancy that the allusion
must be to Southampton. Having said that after Essex's
last "falal impatience," "there was iKjt time to work for
A/yyi," ho goes on: "though the same my affection when it
C(ui]d not work upon the subject proper, went to tlie next,
wiih no ill effect towards some others ivho I thinh do rather

216 FVEXIXGS WITH A nEVIEWFU.

not Jcnoiv it than not achnoidedge it.'' Now the Apology was
written some time after the liberation of Southampton (the
date of the writing is not known, but it was printed in 1601) ;
we have only to suppose therefore that this letter of Bacon's
met with a cold reception, and the allusion fits the case
exactly, and is very characteristic of tlie man.

However, I do not want to rest anything upon a guess.
Bacon, as you say, had nothing to excuse in his conduct to
Southampton. He had never wished him ill; never <loue
him any ill office, but the contrary. He was now glad of his
approaching liberation. Still, knowing that Ids conduct had
been much misrepresented, and loudly though unjustly con-
demned, by Essex's and Southampton's friends, lie could not
reasonably expect to find Soutluimpton himself uutinctured
wit]i the same prejudice. In such a case, what was the
course which a mind of true delicacy would naturally take ?
He miglit easily commit an error in either of two different
ways. Was Southampton dispos"d to take a true view of
]iis case, and to be friends? To stand aloof would in that
case have seemed churlish and unfriendly, and miglit be
supposed to argue an ashamed conscience. Did South-
ampton (on the contrary) regard him as the ungrateful and
ungenerous enemy of his friend and liimself ? In that case,
to present himself would at the best have seemed indelicate
and unfeeling ; at the worst it would have shown like an act
of vulgar and shameless svcoj)ha]icy. AVhat could he do
tlien l)etter than write, to excuse his ?<o/i-attendanco and ex-
plain the reasons of it ?

A.
Yes, but let us have the hitter. Bet me hear tlw tone in
which a man aslcs ])ai'don,and 1 will tell you whether he has
])een doing anything to ask ])ardon for. All you say nmy be
ti'ue, and yet the letter may I'c ''shamefully servile," and all
the more servile l)(;c;iiise all vou sav /■s ti'ue.

Here then the letlei' is, woi'd foi' woi'd. ^'our mind is
in an excellent iViiine forjudging; wliieh i.-\\li,it 1 \\;inled.

EVEXIXGS WITH A BE VIE WEE. 217

I should really like to know what fault can he found \\\i\\
it ; or how it could he improved.

" It may please your Lordship, — -I would have been very
glad to have presented my humble service to your Lordship l)y
m}'' attendance, if I could have foreseen that it should not have
been nnpleasing unto you. And therefore because I would
commit no error, I choose to write ; assuring your Lordship
(how credible soever it may seem to you at fir.st), yet it is
as true as a thing that God knoweth, that this great change
hath wrought in me no other change towards your Loidship
than this, that I may safely be now that which I was truly
before. And so, craving no other pardon than for troubling
you w^ith this letter, I do not now begin but continue to be
your Lordship's most humble and much devoted Servant, —
Fr. Bacon."

There is the whole letter. Must you pronounce it
" shamefully servile " ?

On the contrary, a model of manliness and delicacy well
mixed. What kind of spirit is the reviewer possessed with
that he cannot get through a single paragraph without some
monstrous error either of fact, of judgment, or of feeling ?

No worse spirit, I dare say, than vanity. I\lucli desire
of feeling and displaying Ins own power ; little desire of
doing justice or of understanding the truth. But let us
liave some more.

" How Southampton received these apologies we arc not in-
formed."

There he goes again! What apologies, I should like to
know. He did not say that he was sorry for anytliing ho
had done. Ho asked pardon for nothing but for troubling
him with the letter.

218 EVEXIXGS WITH A nEVIEWEB.

Yes, yes. It is all of a piece.

" But it is certain that the general opinion was pronounced
against Bacon in a manner not to be misunderstood. '

True ; the ireneval opinion of people who did not know
what he had done.

"Soon after his marriage he put forth a deft-nee of his
conduct, in the form of a letter to the Earl of IJevon. This
tract seems to us only to prove tlie exceeding badness of a cause
for which such talents could do so little."

Ay, there it is. "Could do so little!" But since this
is the only notice which the reviewer deigns to take of that
composition ; simply dismissing- it as a tiling which has not
altered liis opinion (a feat to which I well bidicve Bacon's
talents were unequal), — without ex[)laining either what the
t 'uour of the defence is, or what the points are in which it
fails, — it is impossible to answer him otherwise than by
saying generally that to rae, on the contrary, it seems to
prove the exceeding goodness of a cause, which a simple
statement, without any special })leading whatever, was
sufficient to vindicate. How much such a statement could
" ''/o " for the cause, vou must have seen from the fact that
it h IS snpj)lied me with the means of convicting the J'cviewer
or(I think) some half-dozen material misstatements. AVhy
it was not ])itched in a bolder key, an<l made so complete as
to answer by antici])ation such an attack as tliis, and sid the
\\liole question at I'est for ever, is intelligible enough to
anyone wiio understands BacDu's cliai'acb r. He could not
liavo done it without bringing the wor.>t of Ivsscx's case au'ain
ii])on the stage, when it could have served no purpose hiL;]ii'r
than that of vindicating his own reputation. 'I'o show ii-lmt
the A|)'il(>gy '■ did Ibi' the case," woidd l»e In go thr(aigh the

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEB. 219

whole story again. But it may be as well to remind you of
the general purpose and spirit of it. The imputation which
Bacon sustained "in common speech," was that he had
been " false and ungrateful " to Essex. The grounds of this
imputation were of two kinds ; the part which he had actually
taken against Essex in public ; and the part which he was
supposed to have taken against him in private. Upon the
first he touches briefly and generally, not entering into any
argument, but simply appealing to the "true rules and
habits of duties and moralities," as "they which shall decide
the matter."

" Wherein (he says) my defence needeth to be but simple
and brief; namely, that whatsoever I did concerning that
action and proceeding was done in my duty and service to the
(,)uoen and the State ; in which I woukl not show myscdf false-
hearted nor fainthearted for any man's sake living. For every
honest man that hath his heart well planted will forsake his
King rather than foi'sake his God, and forsake his friend rather
than forsake his King, and yet avIII forsake any earthlj^ com-
modity, yea, and his own life in some cases, rather than forsake
his friend. I hope the world hath not foi'gotton these degrees ;
else the heathen saying amicus usque ad aras shall judge them."

And this is the wdiole of his defence upon the first point.
AVhat he had done was known. He had nothing to explain ;
and he could not, for the reason I have mentioned, enter
into a more particular application of the principle to the
case. And indeed, if the principle be admitted, I hardly
see how the objection can be sustained, or what further
justification was needed. xVnd it was a principle (you are to
remember) which did not in those days need to be further
enforced ; being well recognized, and scarcely disputed by
anybody. In our times it is true that the notion of forsaking
a friend rather than forsaking a king seems extravagant ;
because the king is no longer the real governor and chief
magistr.ito of the country ; and the observance owing to him
from his subjects is a matter of form and ceremony rather
than of substance. The State has in fact very little interest
in him. If however I say that a man should forsake his

220 EVENINGS WITH A EEVJEWEn.

frieud rather than forsake his imrty (whicli conies a little
nearer to tlie case, thongli not qnite np to it), I think many-
people would at once assent, though I am not clear that I
should assent myself. IJut if I say that a man should forsake
liis friend rather than forsake his eoujiti'ij, meaning the true
interests and legitimate authorities of the State, I suppose
the proposition will hardly be disputed by anybody. Xow
in Bacon's time, when the theory of a responsible ministry
had not yet been developed, tliis is what " the King " really
was. I conceive therefore that if we do but substitute tlie
thing for the name, we shall all agree that he has laid down
Ill's, p' I nci pies of duty truly ; and that, if we do but substitute
the facts as they were for the facts as the reviewer tells them,
we must all agree that he did not misapply them. At all
events, whether we adopt the principle or not, there can be
no doubt that Bacon believed it to be tlie true one. There-
lore, if he must be condemned, let him be condemned for
believing it, not for acting upon it.

This then, you say, is his defence of what he did in
public at the trial, liow did he meet the other part of the
c harge ?

The other part of the charge he meets by a simple nnrra-
tive, from which it appears that the imputation was whnlly
without foundation. The cliarge was that lie liad acted
(ijjaiiist his friend. The answer is tliat lie had acted for
Jiim. Admit th<>' fact to be made good, and I do not know
what more the greatest talents could "do for a case," or
wish to do for it.

But to make out a case was not his object. His object
was to [)res(,'nt the case; as it truly was. The judgment upon
it he left to friends and enemies.

" And tills, iny Lord," (ho conclndcs) " to my furtlicst rc-
incmljrance is all tliat piisscd wliorciu I liad part ; Avliirli 1 li;tvo
set down as near us I could in the very wuids iiud .--pceclic!> that

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER. 221

■vrr^re user!, — not because they are worthy the repetition — I mean
those of ray own, — but to the end your Lordship may lively and
plainly discern between the face of truth and a smooth tale."

If he had tohl a smooth talo instead of presenting the
face of truth, the reviewer would have thought tlie cause not
so bad ; because then his talents would have " done some-
thing for it."

But, seriously, can it be shown that the truth is in any
single feature either distorted or miscoloured ? I have not
yet heard of any attempt to do so. And if not, \\as he not
justified in adding, — ■

" Wlieroin I report myself to your honourable judgment,
whether you do not see the traces of an honest mail ; and had I
been as well believed either by the Queen or by my Lord as I
was well heard by them both, both my Lord had been fortunate
and so had mjself in his fortune."

Whetlnr the reviewer disbelieves Bacon's account of
what he did,- — or, believing it, does not see in it " the traces
of an honest man," — he does not inform us. Therefore I do
not know how to meet him more directly than by saying
that, until I hear of some argument for the one or the othei',
I shall hold my present opinion, that in the whole of his
relation to Essex, Bacon acteil quite rightly.

iVnd as I cannot invent any argument myself for either,
I must h(dd you justified in doing so.

" It is not probable that Bacon's defence had much effect
upon his contempt aarits."

xVnd pray why not ? Is it a thing so improbable in
itself, that the defence of a man who has been con<Iemned
unheard sliould produce an effect in his favour ? or is tliere
any evidence that his unpopularity continued afterwards
undiminisliKl ? The old slander was indeed revived after
his fall, when any slander against the charactfi' of a (lis-

222 evexixCtS with a eevieweb.

graced royalist was sure to find plenty of believers, and when
there was no one to contradict it. But by wliat contemporary
of name and repute was his conduct to Essex censured after
the appearance of the " Apology " ? He was frequently in
places where he was most likely to hear of it ; — exposed
continually to the whispers of the Court and tlie invectives
of the House of Commons. Surely ii' the condemnation had
been general, he would have been now and then taunted
with it by his enemies or his antagonists. Yet I do not
think I have met anywhere witli so mucli as an allusion,
from which one might infer that such a charge had been so
much as whispered during the twelve or thirteen years that
followed the printing of the " xVpology." Of course th-'
reviewer will not favour us \\ith an instance.

Eather the contrary. He seems to admit that the
censure, if not withdrawn, was forgotten.

" But the unfavourable impression wliich his conduct had
made appears to Lave l)een gi'adually effaced. IiKh:'ed it must
be some very peculiar cause tliat can make a man like liiiu long
unpopular. His talents secured him from contempt ; liis temper
and his manners from hatred. There is scarcely any stoi-y so
black that it may not be got over by a man of a;reat abilities,
whose abilities are united with caution, good-humour, patience,
and alfahility ; who }iays daily sacriHees to Xenusis; who is a
deliglitfnl c<anpanion, a servicealde though not an ardent friend,
and a dangerous yet a placable enemy."

Tlie di'ift of all whicli is apparently to account for the
fact tliat he- was not so un})op)uhir with those who knew liim
as he ought to liave liecu. 3!y version of the story does not
stand in Jioed of anv sucli explanations. J hit I am glad
C)f tliis admission of the fact; because it shows that
]\Iacau]av's reading ('(jiild sup; ly no e.\[)i'(ssion or anccilote
A\hich his ingonuity couh] dist rt inb'.> a scniblanc<:' of proof

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 223

tliat aiiyljody condemned Bacon's conduct after ho had once
heard it exphxined.

" Waller in the next age was an eminent instance of this.
Indeed, Waller had much more than may at first siglit appear in
common with Bacon. To the higher intellectual qualities of the
great English philosopher,— to the genius which has made an
immortal epoch in the history of science, — Waller had indeed no
pretensions. But the mind of Waller, so far as it extended,
coincided with that of Bacon ; and might, so to speak, have been
cut out of that of Bacon. In the qualities which make a man
an ohject of interest and veneration to posterity, there was no
comparison between them. But in the qualities by which chiefly
a man is known to his contemp)oraries, there M'as a striking
similarity. Considered as men of the world, as courtiers, as
politicians, as associates, as allies, as enemies, they had nearly
tiie same merits and the same defects. They were not malig-
nant. They were not tyrannical. But they wanted warmth of
affei.-tion and elevation of sentiment. There Avere many things
Avhich they lovud better than virtue, and which they feared
more than guilt. Yet after they had stooped to acts of wdiicii
it is impossible to read the account in the most partial narrative,
without strong disapprobation and contempt — "

The most partial narratives ! I know nothing about tliat.
"When I speak of Bacon's conduct it is not as reported in a
partial narrative, but in a true one. And I still wait to hear
of some one act of his of wliicli we cannot read without dis-
approbation and contempt.

" — the public still continued to regard them with a feeling not
easily to be distingttislied from esteem. The hyperbole of Julii t
seemed to be verified with respect to them — ' Upon their brows
shame was ashamed to sit.' Everybody seemed as desirous to
throw a veil over their misconduct as if it had been his own.
Clarendon, who felt and had reason to feel strong personal dis-
like towards Waller, speaks of him thus : — ' Theie noeds no
more to be said to extol the excellence and pov/cr of his Avir and
pleasantness of his conversation, than, that it v.-us of nia-nitude

224 EVEXJXGS WITH A nEVIE]VER.

enough to cover a world of very great faults, — that is, so to
cover them that they were not taken notice of to his reproach, —
viz. a narrowness in liis nature to the lowest degree, — an ahject-
ness and want of coinage to support him in any virtuous under-
taking,— an insinuation and servile flattery to the height the
vainest and most imperious nature c^uld he contented with. . . .
It had powt-r to reconcile him to those whom he bad mo^t
offended and provoked, and continued to his age witli tliat laro
felicity tliat liis coiii[iany was acceptalile where his spirit w;;s
odious, and be was at least pitied where be was most detected.'
Much of this, with some softening, might, we fear, he applied to
Bacon."

Wait a moment. "Whctlier all or any of this be true of
Waller I do not pretend to say ; for I know nothing about
liim. If it is, I need hardly observe that the parallel is
absurd. But what I want to say is, that the respect which
Bacon's character connnandcd during his life was quite dii-
fereut in Iciad from that wliieli Clarendon describes. A\ liore
is the evidence that any human being who despised Bacon,
liked him ? Of those who detested liim, wliieh pitied him?
It is common encjugh for a man t(j be popular and agreeable
who is at the same time despised ; nor does it argue any ex-
traordinary power of })leasing. A man will always be
jiopular in that sense who can make time pass agreeably.
And this he can do all the bettor for not being too inucli
respected. The ])oorer kind of meii, wIk^ will always be the
great(.'r number, do not like a man whom tlicy have to bjok
up to, whose greatness or goodness inalces them sensible of
their own medioerity or unworthiness. Jiiit tlie impression
which Bacon is described as prixlucing upon those who con-
versed \\itli him was iiot that of pitv, or go(jd-nature, or
merfdy social kindness, but of "an awl'ul re\erence." That
is the ]ihi-ase ii-;e(l l)y Os'ioi'ne (a writer whose fault is a
tendeney to de[)reciati^ and detract), aiid lie asci'ibes the
impressidii net onl\' to his rejiutatieii foi- uidvei's.d knew-
ledge, ])ut to that '•' majest ical canhige whieh he \\;is known
t!> own." Bell .feiisen ag:ain---(a still beltei- witm-s. for !;c

EVENINGS WITH A HE VIEWER. Tli)

knew him well in both his fortunes, and was by nature an
extremely fine observer) — -tells us, not that he liked him
for the "pleasantness of his conversation," but that he
"reverenced" him ; and for what? — "for the greatness which
was only proper to himself," — a greatness which place and
honours could not enhance, and a " virtue " which made it
impossible to condole with him on his misfortunes, because
they seemed only like "accidents," which served to make
the virtue manifest, but could not harm it. Is this the
description of a man wliose " company was acceptable where
his spirit was odious ; " whose manners procured pity from
those by whom his character was "' detested " ? Surely no
two pictures can be more unlike. Indeed, in the case of
Bacon, it would probably be found — (if the witnesses could
still be called up) — that those who thought ill of him and
those to whom his company was acceptable were two distinct
sets of persons. By those who knew him he was "reverenced"
for his greatness and goodness ; by those who did not know
him, or could not understand liim, he may (for anything I
know) have been thought ill of and disliked. But I have
yet to learn that his character was ever ill-spoken of by a
man of a great spirit who had had opportunities of knowing
him. Aubrey tells us (and Lis information was derived
chiefly from two persons who knew Bacon well, — Ilobbes
and Sir John Danvers), that " all who were great and good
loved and honoured him." If so, it cannot possibly have
been for such qualities as Clarendon ascribes to Waller. For
what qualities it was, no one can be at a loss tu understand
who is acquainted with his writings; especially those which
are most familiar, unstudied, and unreserved.

Ko ; (f so. And yet indeed why not? It is a friend's
account, to be sure. But a friend's is at least as likely
to be true as an enemy's. And Sir John Danvers, I think,
was one of the friends of his adversity. Well.

"The influence of Waller's talents, manners, and accom-
plishments died with him ; and the world has pronounced an
unbiassed sentence upon his character."

VOL. I. y

220 EVENING S WITH A REVIEWER.

That is to say, Clarendon has written down his own
opinion of his character in a readable book ; and " the
world," knowing nothing whatever about the matter, has
just taken it for granted. If Clarendon had pronounced
him a martyr, the world would have believed that just as
readily.

" A few flowing lines are not bribe sufificient to pervert the
judgment of posterity. But the influence of Bacon is felt
and will long be felt over the whole of the civilized world.
Leniently as he Avas treated by his contemporaries— "

Leniently ! That must refer then' to this period which
we have been speaking of, whe^i as*yet he had*done nothing
wrong. It surely cannot be said that he Avas treated
leniently at the time of his fall, or after it.

" Leniently as he was treated by his contemporaries, pos-
terity has treated him more leniently still."

Poster if ij treated him leniently! Why, what is the
popular opinion of him which is now current ? How comes
it that in contending that he was not a cold-hearted, mean-
spirited, s(dlisli, perfidious, and servile sycophant, I feel
that I am maintaining what will seem to half the Avorld a
preposterous paradox ? It is true that a few individual
writers here and there have treated him with respect,
possibly with lenity. .l>ut have their views been adoj)te(l
into the popular o})iiuon? It you want to know how
posterity has treated Bacon, look into any of the anonymous
notices of his lif(! i)re(ixed to tin; })opiilar editions of his
works. Look into our modei'n Ihicyclopjedias, Biogra[)hical
JJictionaries, British Blutarchs, or Briti.di Neposes. J.ook

EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWEn. 227

into our histories of England.* Look at the first thought
which occurs to a respectable and dispassionate man like
Ml'. Jardine, upon discovering that Bacon had struck a
sentence out of a deposition. "Wiiat (thinks he) could his
object be ? Some bad one of course ! And so prepossessed
is he with this notion, that he sets down the first bad one
he can think of, without even turning to the book which
lay before him, to see whether such an object was com-
patible with the rest of the story ! Surely the judgment
of posterity upon Bacon's moral character is as harsh and
rigorous as it well can be, — the greatest of intellects united
with the smallest of hearts. If there be anything wearing
the appearance of lenity and indulgence, it is only a ten-
dency in the better sort of natures (arising out of a secret
aversion from the contemplation of so monstrous and re-
volting a combination) to keep the two parts of his cha-
racter separate, and not to let their minds dwell at all upon
the moral part. It is not that they see it with indulgent
eyes ; they turn their eyes away and try to forget it
altogether.

A.
That is true enough. I cannot say that I have myself
been in the habit of judging Bacon lenienthj. And cer-
tainly people in general are ready to believe the worst of
him ; as may appear (among other things) by the appetite
with which they have swallowed this article.

" Turn where we may, the trophies of that mighty intellect
are full in view, ^^'e arc judging Manlius in sight of the
Capitol."

And we pronounce him the meanest of mankind.

True. I wonder whether it occurred to the reviewer,
while he was declaiming against the scandal of blackening

* This was writtou iu October, 1815. Of lalf, a cuucidcralle cLange iiin:-
be obecrveJ.

228 I-l'EXINOS WITH A BE VIE WEI!.

the I'ame of benefactors and -writing abusive pamphlets
against them ^vlicn they are dead, to consider what he was
doing himself all the time. — I suppose not.

But we had better break off here. For tlie next para-
graph relates apparently to the progress of his books and
studies.

Very well. Only remember that Bacon is now in his
forty-third year ; that he has been placed in many situa-
tions which try the character severely ; and that you liave
been compelled to own that, in every one of these, he has
acquitted himself with fidelity, \\ith sincerity, -with dis-
interestedness, and witli lionour. The worst tliat can be
said of him is, that he was desir(»us of advancement in his
profession ; that he endeavoured to obtain such advance-
ment by pre-eminently deserving it ; and that in a conflict
between two duties, he preferred the course wliich he knew
to be right before that which he knew would be po})ular.
Neither can it be said that, if we know nothing worse of
him, it is only because we know so little. There are very
few men of whose private affairs and proceedings so much
is known that was never intended to see the light.

Now I do not want to bespeak your judgment upon what
is coming. But I want you to remendjcr that in cases of
douhtful interpretation, the presurnidion is not witli you or
me, whatever it may be ^\itll the reviewer, against him. If
the reviewer thinks himself entitled, from the fact tliat
Bacon did afterwards abuse power, to infer that from the
beginning he desired power only ibr tlie salce of abusing it,
— much more mav vou and 1, from tlie fact that he has
actually beliaved well for forty-three years, infer that he is
likely to behave well hereafter.

I don't know. He has not yet l)cen tried with prosperitv.
]>ut of course there is always a ])resum])tion in favour of a
man who has hitherto ])oi'iie a good character. And to this
I agree tliat Bacon is tully entith'd.

EVENING THE SEVENTH.

Shall we go on at once \Yitli the review, or have you
anything to say by way of preparation ?

Let me see. AVe are on the threshold of a new world. —
Yes, I think I shall have a good deal to say before we go
much further. But let us see what Macaulay makes of it
first.

" L'nder the reign of James, Bacon grew rapidly in fortune
and favour. In 1G04 he was appointed King's Counsel witli
a fee of £40 a-ycar, and a 2:)ension of £00 a-^-ear was settled
upon him. In 1607 he became Solicitor-Generdl, and in 1612
Attorney-General. He continued to distinguish himself in
Parliament, particularly by his exertions in favour of one
excellent measure on which the King's heart was set, — the
union of England and Scotland. It was not difficult fur such
an intellect to discover many irresistible arguments in favour
of such a scheme. He conducted the great cause of the Poxi-
nati in the Exchequer Chamber. And the decision of tlic
Judges, — a decision the legality of which may be questioned,
but the beneficial effects of which must be acknowledged, — was
in a great measure attributed to his dexterous management.
While actively engaged in the House of (Jommons and in th(^
Courts of Law, he stiil found leisure for letters and philosophy.
The noble treatise on the Advancement of Learning, wdiich at
a later period was augmented into the Dp Augmentis. appeared

230 EVEXJXO.'^ WITH A EEVIEWETi.

in 11)05. The 'Wistlcmi of the Ancients,' — a work -wliich if it
had proceeded from any other writer, would have been con-
sidered a master-piece of wit and learning, hut which adds little
to the fame of Bacon, — was printed in 1G09. In the mean time
the Novum Organum was slowly proceeding. Several distin-
guished men of learning had been permitted to see sketches
or detached portions of that extraordinary book ; and though
they were not generally disi^osed to admit the soundness of the
author's views, they spoke with the greatest admiration of his
genius. Sir Thomas Bodley, the founder of the most magnifi-
cent of English libraries, was among those stubborn conserva-
tives who considered the hopes with which Bacon looked
forward to the future destinies of the human race as utterly
chimerical ; and who regarded with distrust and aversion the
innovating spirit of the new schismatics in Philosophy. Yet
even Bodley, after perusing the Cogitata et Visa, — -one of the
most precious of those scattered leaves out of which the great
oracular volume was afterwards made up, — acknowledged that
in ' those very parts and in all proposals and plots of that book
Bacon showed himself a master-workman,' — and that ' it could
not be gainsaid but all the treatise over did abound with choice
conceits of the present state of learning and Avith worthy con-
templations of the means to procure it.' In 1612 a new edition
of the Essays appeared, Avith additions surpassing the original
Collection both in bulk and quality. Nor did these pursuits
distract Bacon's attention from a work the most arduous, the
most glorious, and the most useful, that even his mighty powers
could have achieved, 'the reducing and recom])iIing ' (to use
his own phrase) of the Laws of England.

"Unhappily he was at that very time employed in pervert-
ing those laws to the worst })Ui-poftes of tyranny. AVheu Oliver
St. John — "

►Stay, that will do. That was ten years cand more further
on ; and I want to know a great deal more about the positions
he has occupied in the mean time ;— what opportunities be
has had of working- out the great luirposes of his life as he
originally laid them d(jwn, and how he has used them.

He entered upon life, y(ju remember, now about twenty
years since, under tlie attraction of two principal objects,
witli a view to\\hich he endeavoured to sliapo liis course.

EVENINGS WITJI A REVIEWEn. 231

The first, — as that wliicli first revealed itself to liis opening
imagination, and for which he felt more peculiarly adapted
by nature, — was the advancement of the fortunes of the
human race by extending the bounds of human knowledge,
clearing it from error, and directing it to right ends. The
other w-as the advancement of the fortunes of his country by
faithful service of the State.

To these two objects he was, during the whole of Eliza-
beth's reign, very true and constant. But he had little
external furtherance for either ; none at all for the first ;
but little for the second. Elizabeth w'as above fifty years
old, and her hands were so full of the immediate cares of
state, that even if she had had genius she had scarcely
leisure to set about legislating for the human race. Burghley
does not seem to have had any aspirations of the kind in
him. Essex might have done something, being young,
capable, aspiring, and imaginative ; but not being proof
against the intoxicating effects of precocious greatness, his
ambition soon fell away to vulgar and personal ends ; and
Bacon was left to carry on that enterprize by himself
without assistance, encouragement, or sympathy. For his
other object he w^as not altogether without external advan-
tages ; for his service was used. But it was service without
means, place, or authority to give it effect. Such as it was,
he made the most of it by giving the best direction he
could to such matters as he had to deal with. But the
price he had to pay was a heavy one ; for being without
either lucrative office or independent fortune, he could not
hold on in that career without plying his private practice
at the Bar ; and this (as he said) " drank too much time,"
which he wanted for better things. For some years he was
trained on, as it were, by a single thread, which he was more
than once on the point of breaking. What he wanted to
do, when he found that his Court-service instead of yielding
him the means of working out the great purposes of his
life, was consuming his life in work of no permanent value,
was to shake himself free at once, turn his fortune into an
annuity, and for a while to go abroad.

232 I'VKXIXOS WITH J BEVIEWER.

Was not that a feint, think you, — to quicken the Queen's
movements?

No, I think not. I shouki have thouglit that possible,
but for a coniidential letter to his brotlier (not preserved by
himself), in which he say?, " And to be plain with you " —
[this was in January, 1594-5, when he was just thirty-four]
■ — " I mean even to make the best of those small things I
have, with as much expedition as may be without loss, and
so sing a mass of requiem I hope abroad. For I know her
Majesty's nature that sJie neither careth though tlie ivhole
surname of the Bacons travelled, nor of the Cecils neither" In
this however he was mistaken ; for when a rumour of his
intention reached the Queen's ear, she was offended, and
showed a dislike to it, which (with him) was as much as a
prohibition. And I am half inclined to think— for there
are some other things that countenance the supposition — ■
that it was at this time, and not in 1588 as has been asserted,
that by way of keeping him in her service she began to
employ him in the business of her Learned Counsel. This,
I suppose, fixed him ; and he sat down quietly to make
the best he could of that career. All hope of the Solicitor-
ship seemed for the present at an end. And he betook
himself (as 1 gather from some loose papers in his hand-
writing which are preserved in the British ^luseum) vigo-
rously to his private studies. Among tliesc papers I find
the rudinu'iits of that little treatise upon tlie "Colours of
(iood and J'lvil,"' which was printed witli his Essays in 1597,
and afterwards incorporated into the Be Aufpnentis. Traces
are there too of tlie " Mcditationes Sacnv,'' which formed
part of the same volume. And several sheets of notes, which
look lil<e hints of essays towards the supply of some of the
desiderata afterwards pointed out in the "Advancement of
Learning," bear witness to the; activity with whicli his
studies were now setting in the direetioii <jf his great work.
The "Maxims of Law." too, must have been coni[)osed about

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER. 233

this time. And he appears to have had a design of writing
a History of England from the beginning of Henry the
Eighth's reign ; a commencement of which (unquestionably
of his composition and written during Elizabeth's reign) is
to be found in the Cabala.*

Nor did he remit his diligence in matters of State, but
worked according to his opportunities. He presented the
Queen with a discourse (a fragment of which is preserved)
on the best means of defeating the conspiracies against her
life, which were perpetually hatching among the fugitives
abroad ; was active iu collecting and examining evidence
against detected conspirators at home, and iu drawing up for
public satisfaction statements of the cases prosecuted ; as
those (for instance) of Dr. Lopez and of Edmund Squire,
which are preserved ; the first published after his death by
Dr. llawley; the other printed by authority at the time,
and afterwards republished in Carleton's " Thankful Ee-
membrance," where I lighted upon it for the first time not
many months ago. It does not bear his name indeed, nor
has it ever been ascribed to him so far as I know ; but if
I were to find the rough draught of it in his own hand-
writing, I could hardly be more certain that it is his. He
continued also to give the Earl of Essex his best advice and
assistance in all affairs political and personal as long as it
was desired. And in Parliament he was more busy and
important than ever.

No more opposition to money-bills, I suppose ?

No more occasions that I can hear of, which would have
justified opposition. The supplies that were wanted, were
wanted for purposes strictly national, and the Upper House
did not again interfere with the privilege of the Lower. No
doubt he was strong on the Quei^n's side in both her last
Parliaments ; but I do not find that he was at all the less on
the side of the people than he had been in L593.

* See " AVorks," vdl. vi. p. 17.

231 EVEXIXaS WITH A nr.VTF.WF.Ii.

Is tlicre not some charge against him for defending
monopolies ?

Some idle Avriter — (Lord Campbell, I tliink, in tlie
biographical romance Avhich be calls a life of Bacon)— lias
said that in the Parliament of ICOl be "took a very dis-
creditable part " in the discussions about monopolies. But
it is only one instance more of the carelessness with ^Yhich
such epithets are used. It is true that he opposed a bill
which had for its object the abolition of monopolies ; but he
did not say a word in vindication of the monopolies them-
selves, or in deprecation of any constitutional course for
getting rid of them. The case is not a bad illustration of
his principles and policy in dealing with such questions ;
and I may as well tell you what it was.

These monopolies, you know, were licenses granted by
the Crown to individuals for the sole importing or sole
selling of certain articles : very bad things no doubt, except
where granted, as our modern patents are, only to inventors,
in order to secure them a reasonable interest in the fruits of
their own labour and ingenuity. But in those days, when
the voting of su})plies by the Commons was not a matter
of course, when the ordinary expenses of (Government were
expected to be supported by tlie lixcd revenue of tlie Crown,
and when those expenses (owing not only to the troul)le.s
of the times, but io the rapid growth of tlie nation in
numbers, wealth, and commercial enterprise) were increasing
much more rajtidly than that revenue, — they were a valuable
and very tempting resource. They enabled tlie (^ueeu to
reward servants, whose claims would otherwise have drawn
hard upon the privy purse, in a very economical manner;
(economical for herself, I mean, not for the })ublic ;) — for
I take it most of these jiatentees had to pay something
for their privilege, and were thus made at once thankful and
profitaljle. Accordingly these monop(jlifs grew fast, as ill

EVENINGS WITH A UE VIEWER. 2:];')

weeds will, and began to be felt as a great grievance. Some
stir had been made about them in the preceding Parliament
of 1597, and the Queen had promised to inquire into the
subject and remove such as were found to be abusive. But
though some steps had been actually taken with that view,
the troubles of Ireland and. the insurrection of the Earl of
Essex had suspended or diverted them, so that when the new
Parliament met in the autumn of 1601, nothing had in fact
been accomplished. Meanwhile the complaints of the
people had grown more loud and clamorous, and the recep-
tion of the Queen by the Commons when she opened
Parliament in person, and " very few said ' God save your
Majesty,' " seems to show that the representatives shared
the general discontent. Share it at any rate they did.
And before the subsidy bill had reached a third reading,
the question of monopolies was formally brought forward
in the House. But it was brought forward in the shape, not
of a petition, but of a " Bill for the explanation of the Com-
mon Laiv in certain cases of letters patent." Of this bill
nothing remains except the title : but the object of it (as
may be clearly enough inferred from the turn of the debate)
was to declare these patents illegal by the Common Law.
Now since they had been granted in virtue of a prerogative
which Avas at that time confidently assumed, asserted, and
exercised as indisputably belonging to the Crown, which,
though not perhaps wholly undisputed was freely allowed
by a large body of respectable opinion, and which had not
yet been disallowed by any authority that could claim to be
decisive, it was now no longer the monopolies, but the pre-
rogative itself that was in question. Therefore to say that
those who opposed the bill on that ground were defending
monopolies, is as absurd as to say that the Commons them-
selves, when they demanded the release of a member ar-
rested for debt, were conspiring to defraud his creditor.
The arrest of a debtor, though by a process strictly legal,
became in that case a breach of privilege ; the taking away
of patents by act of parliament became in this case an
invasion of prerogative. The passage of such a bill could

23 G Evi-:xixGf^ with a riEviKWEn.

only liave issued in that kind of rullisiun between the Com-
mons and the Crown whicli was especially to be deprecated,
and, whichever way it ended, must have created a precedent
full of uncertain and dangx-rous consequences, 'J'his bill
therefore Bacon did no doubt strenuously oppose. But did
he defend the monopolies at which it was aimed ? Did he
maintain that the prerogative liad in this instance been
rightly used? Did he say that the House ought u(jt to
meddle ? Far from it. '• This is no stranger (he said.
pointing to the bill) in this place; but a stranger in this
vestment. The usual course has been to proceed by peti-
tion." ]S'ay, he went further ; for he gave his decided and
emphatic support to a motion not only for petitioning the
Queen to revoke such patents as were grievous, but for
following it up immediately by a second petition for leave
to pass a law making these patents to be " hereafter of no
more force than they were by the Coinmon Law vritliout the
strength of lier prerogative ■/' — which motion, it seems, was
assented to. In what respect then was tlie part he took
discreditable? Is not this the course which at this very
day (given an analogous case) any discreet reformer would
follow ? For example : — One prerogative still remains to
the Crown, — the power of choosing its ministers. Suppose
the Queen to choose for her prime minister some odious
man; and suppose tluit in order to get rid of liim, a bill
were introduced in the Coinmons declaring the appointment
voi'l :— what would you do if you wero a mend)er ?

I sliouhl be for an address to the Queen, praying her \o
remove him.

Of course you would. That is, you would do exactly
wliat ]>acon did on this occasion. Wni you would do it, let
me tell you, at the jici'il of your rc]»u1ation with the next
ages for patriotism. J''(jrsomc hundi'c(l vcars or so liercaCter,
when this remnant of tlu' royal jjrcrogative sliall have been
sliorn away like the rest, and a direct voice in tlie ai)point-

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER. 237

ment of the minister shall be one of the constitutional
privileges of the House of Commons, — if your speech on
the supposed question should cross the path of some con-
stitutional gentleman —

Well, never mind my reputation for patriotism. I do
not mean to be famous enough to be worth gibbeting a
hundred years hence. But tell me about the monopolies.
Did the Commons get leave to pass their law.

No, the Queen knew better than to let it come to that.
While the House was still hot in the debate (of which she
of course knew nothing), it so happened that she was
touched witli gratitude for their forwardness with the subsidy
bill, which had luckily had precedence ; whereupon sending
for the Speaker to tell the House how sensible she was of
their affection, she took occasion by the way to inform him
that complaints having reached her from various quarters of
abused and oppressive patents (which indeed her officers had
been ordered many months before to investigate, but had
been interrupted by well-known accidents of State), she had
now taken effectual steps for redress of all such grievances ;
that some sliould be immediately revoked, and all should be
suspended until their validity were tried by the course of
Common Law. The Speaker delivered the message to the
House. Sir liobert Cecil followed it up by a speech full of
wit and graceful raillery in the manner, but of substantial
satisfaction in the matter ; concluding with an intimation
that the Queen would receive no thanks for the promise
until it were effectually performed. The House was over-
come with delight ; insisted on sending a message of thanks
immediately ; prayed that all might have access to deliver
it ; was received with that grace and majesty wliich was
indeed a prerogative inseparable, if not from the Crown, at
least from Queen Elizabeth; and was dismissed witli a speech
which, if Shakespeare had but turned it into blank verse, we

238 Evi:xixGS with a reviewer.

should all know by heart. And so the clouds severed and
dispersed, leaving her and her faith/ul Commons to part in
a general sunshine. If this result were in any measure
owins to Bacon, I do not see whv it should be mentioned to
his discredit.

Xor I. And this, I think, was her last Parliament.

Yes, she died about fifteen montlis after. But Bacon
found one more opportunity before she died of doing, or
trying to do, the State a service. "Within a week or two
after the dissolution of the Parliament came news that the
Spanish forces in Ireland had been utterly defeated at
Kinsale, and had left the country. This seemed to Bacon a
critical juncture, and an opportunity which, if lost, might
be lost for ever. And therefore, though it did not concern
him otherwise than as everything concerned him in which
the well-being of the State was interested, he made an effort
to put the right handle of it into Sir Robert Cecil's hand,
who had now the chief sway of affairs. His suggestions were
conveyed in that little paper, entitled " Considerations
touching the Queen's service in Ireland," which has been
preserved, and the interest of wliich is far from obsolete.
His object was to urge the importance of seizing tlio
occasion of that decisive victory for a change of policy, — for
iiu endeavour to make it believed and felt that the end of
the Government was not sim])ly to subdue, but to civilize.
Jiebcllion liad been effectually chastised. Nuw was the
time, — first by a liberal proclamation of grace and pardon,
then by active measures for establishing justice and order ; —
as by sending a peaceable commission ad res im^iiiciendas et
comijonendas ; by appointing governors and judges with
power to administer justice, summarily so as to -save delays
and costs, and yet us nearly as might be according to the
laws of ]']ng]and ; — by removing all })articular causes of com-
])laint; — by treating the English residonts and tlie native
Irish indifferently, a,- if they were one people; — liy cuuntc-

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 230

iiaucing the Irish nobility both in Ireland and in England ; —
by tolerating ("for a time, not definite ") the exercise of the
Koman Catholic religion, and trusting for the advancement
of Protestantism to the sending over of zealous and per-
suasive preachers and the education of the youth ; — by re-
pressing as much as possible all barbarous customs and laws ;
— by a more careful selection of undertakers for the English
plantations there, and more effectual measures for keeping
the settlements together and in a condition for self-defence ;
— in short, by undertaking in all their branches the true
offices of protection and government, — to enter uj^on a course
for the recovery of the hearts of the people.

The care of this business Bacon recommended to Cecil,
— in the summer (as I take it) of 1602, — as the most
honourable and meritorious action, " without ventosity or
popularity, that the riches of any occasion or the tide of any
opportunity could possibly minister or offer ; " with what
effect I do not know. This was rather less than a year be-
fore the death of Elizabeth, and rather more than a year
after the death of his brother Anthony ; when (as I have
already said) he was busily employed in paying his own and
his brother's debts, and clearing his estate from the em-
barrassments which during that long term of unrequited
service had been growing upon him. And so ends the old
world and begins the new.

Upon the accession of James we find him standing on the
watch, ready to lend any help which that new and anxious
crisis might call for. But everything came round quietly
and prosperously. The King had no dangers to combat, no
great alterations to make, and counsellors only too many.
And Bacon found that in the ordinary business and routine
of government, his help was not wanted.

At this point therefore he was free to readjust his
position according to the occasions and exigencies of the
time ; which presented some new aspects. His two princi[ml
ends, — the service of his country and the service of his kind,
— had still their old hold upon him; as strongly as when he

240 i:vi:nings with a hevieweil

took his original direction twenty-three years before. But
his outward conditions were changed in two main features.
On the one hand, instead of nineteen he was now forty-two
years old ; and though competency of fortune, civil station,
and relief from time-absorbing drudgery, were not less im-
portant than before to the furtherance of his work, yet he
could not so well afford to waste more years in waiting for
them. His day was far spent ; it was time to make the best
of such means as he had without further delay, and to set
about it. On the otlier hand, the character of the new King
seemed to promise more sympathy with that work than he
had hitherto found iu high places, and thereby encouraged
him to prompt exertion. He might well hope that a word
well-spoken in that auspicious season, — the spring-time of a
monarch still in the prime of life, devoted to peace, sym-
pathising largely with the interests of mankind, and
eminent even among learned men in a learned age for pro-
ficiency in all kinds of learning, — would turn James's am-
bition into tliis direction, and give him a king for a fellow-
labourer. Under this impression no doubt it was that ho
now made it his aim to " meddle as little as might be in the
King's causes,"- — to engage himself in public business no
further than his professional and parliamentary duties re-
quired,— and (by way of giving an early foretaste and an-
nouncement of what he was about) a little to change the
course and order of his work, and bring it forward in a shape
more popular and rather less complete than that wliich li<^
had originally contemplatofl, and in which he still iutendeil
that it should idtimately stand. The "Advancement of
Learning," which was ])ublis]ied in 1G05, less than three
years after James's accession, was begun, as I conjecture (for
J cannot positivcdy aflirm it), about tins time.

"What makes vou think so?

Several reasons concur; but })erha]is tlu; one which
comes nearest to a jiroof i,'< ihis. In senrling a c<tpy of the

JEVi:yiNGS WITH A BEVIEWEr^. 241

" Advancement " to Lis friend Tobie j\ratthew, he says, " I
have now taught that child to go, at tlie sicaddling wltereof
you werey And it appears from the same letter that
jMatthew had seen the first book only, not the second.
Now Tobie ^Matthew sat in the Parliament of 160-1, and
was employed on so many committees together with Bacon,
that they must have met nearly every day. But in tlio
beginning of the following April he left England, and did
not return till after the work was published. These cir-
cumstances therefore would exactly suit my conjecture.
Bacon's incessant occupation during the whole of IfiOl
sufficiently accounts f(jr his not having finished more than
the first book that year ; while his comparative leisure
during the spring, summer, and autumn of 1005 miglit very
well enable him to finish the rest before winter, ^Moreover
from the statement in the " IS^ovum Organum " sixteen
years after, that the first part of the '•' Instauratio " (which
is the part handled in the " Advancement ") was still
icanting, it is clear that the English treatise did not form
part of the original design, but was a kind of interloper.
And upon the whole I am persuaded that he hurried it into
the world in its present shape that he might lose no time
in awakening James's interest in tlie subject, and if possible
obtaining his co-o})cration ; which if lie had succeeded in
doing, I do not know why a greater movement for the
recovery of man's dominion over nature than the world has
yet seen, — a more successful enterprise than the world has
yet learned to believe possible, — should not have begun
200 years ago. But (not to wander into a speculation of
this kiu'l, which indeed I am not qualified to handle) it
will hardly be denied that this deviation from his general
})lan (if deviation it was) was a judicious one ; and that tliis
treatise forms of itself (oven if he had had nothing else to
show) a sufficient and indeed a splendid account of his
employment during those three years. And yet so far was
this from being the case, — so many and so importiuit were
his other labours during those years, — that they miglit
fairly claim to have the same thing said of them ; for iiad
there been no " Advancement of Learning " to boot, they

VOL. I. R

242 EVENINGS WITH A llEVIEWEn.

would have made up by tliemselves an ample account of
work well done or endeavours well aimed.

For if you believe with me tliat lie lived under the con-
stant attraction of two distinct purposes, — distinct thougli
not discordant, — you must believe that throughout his life
they were perpetually crossing one another ; and never more
so than at this opening of a new reign, which was far too
critical and too favourable a time to be let pass without an
attempt to set many other things in the right way besides
the study of Nature. The union of the tw(j kingdoms : the
pacification of churcli controversies; the right direction of
affairs in Ireland ; the harmonious adjustment of the rela-
tion between the Cro\^n and the Commons ; were matters
now of urgent consideration, which, if they lost the advantage
of this tide, might be (as in fact they for the most part were)
stranded for generations. And upon a careful examination
of their history, I suspect it would appear that if any of
them were not taken up at tlie right time and by the right
handle, it was not Bacon's fault.

I am afraid I must trouble you for particulars.

By all means, if you do not grudge the time.

l^irst then for the Union. Baeoii's obscrvalio]! U])on his
first interview with tlie King was, tliat he seeiucd to be
"hastening to a mixture of both Idngdoms and nations
faster perlui})S tlian ])oli(;y would coiivejiientlv liuar." And
the first thing with which ho grooted the King at his
entrance (using witli a discreet boMness tlie privilege of a
scliolar, for lu; had not tlicn the privilege of sjx'aking in
any other rupaeity) was, a " iiricf J )iseourse of the ha}){)y
Union between I'lngland and iScolIand." f'liis pa])er was
writti'U in(le('(l (as he says liiuisdij '' seliolaslically and
specuhitively, not acli\c]y or })o!itiely, as lie hehl it fit for
him at that tinu^," when the King's d(sire had imt yet Ijeen
declared, and he had not himself been used or trusted in

EVENIXaS WITH A REVIEWEn. 243

tlie service. It is however aimed nearly enough at the
particular case to suggest the principles which ouglit to
govern the attempt, and the cautions to be observed in
entering upon it ; especially in these two main points : 1st,
that the object to be sought was not simply the putting the
two kingdoms together, but the making the two into one, —
the true mingling and uniting of them under a new form ;
and 2udly, that perfect mixture can only take place under
two conditions ; — it must be left to time and nature, for
hurrying would but hinder and disturb it ; and the greater
must draw the less, or the union would not be permanent.
And by way of historical examples, he holds up the Roman
unions, particularly the union between the Komans and the
Sabines, as the examples to imitate ; and the union of
Arragon with Castile and of Judah with Israel as the
examples to avoid.

Suggestions of that kind would be valuable enough, I
dare say ; but you are surely not going to hold up the
proceedings with regard to the Union in James's reign as
a specimen of successful statesmanship ?

No; nor am I going to inquire how far these suggestions
were attended to, or how far the tardy accomplishment of
the Union was owing to some such error in the first inten-
tion as this discourse was meant to preclude. Such an
inquiry would be interesting, but it would hold us too long,
and to say the truth, I am not well enough read in the
actual history of the Union between England and Scotland
to attempt it. I mention the thing at present only as
showing how constantly Bacon's eye was fixed upon the
largest interests of tlie times, and how the services which
he icent out of Ids way to perform or to offer were always for
ends truly public and patriotic. In tliis instance his offer
was as well accepted as it was well intended ; for in all tlie
proceedings which took place on this subject in the House

244 FVFyrxGS with a nEVTEWEn.

of Commons, in all their conferences with the Lords and
audiences of the Kinir. he appears to have been by common
consent elected as tlie cliief speaker. In the selection of
Commissioners to treat of a Union and prepare a measure
for the next Parliament, ihe choice of the Commons fell
upon him tirst of all the Commoners ; and in the labours of
that Commission he appears to have sustained a principal
(if not the principal) part. And if you like to know how
far this was from being a mere exercise of the speculative
understandinr>-, as the reviewer seems to consider it, — the
mere " discovery of many irresistible arguments in favour
of such a scheme," — you must first read Bacon's own
analysis (in the paper which he drew up for the Kijig
immediately after the close of the session) of the quesitions
which had to be considered and the difficulties which had
to be overcome ; — you must then try and imagine to yourself
what kind of task it really was, to devise, prepare, mature,
and propose an arrangement for such a union between
England and Scotland as should unite the hearts and
aftections of the two people, — to propose it, I say, in such
a manner that it should have any chance of passing the
judgments and prejudices of a Parliament of Englishmen
on one side and a Parliament of Scotchmen on the other; —
you must next run your eye through the Journals of our
own House of Commons, observing the sort of obstructions
through wiiich it had actually to make its way ; the nund»er
of meetings of the CVunmittee of the House of Commons, of
reports from the Committee of the House of ( 'ommons, of
tlobaces u})on the report from the Committee of the House
ol' Commons ; — of messages i'rom the JiOrds desiring con-
ference, of debates wlietlier thev should confer, wi at points
tliey slioiild confer about, what instructions tliev should
give;- — of conferences, of reports of conrirfMices. vVc, il'c,
from " Sir l-'raiicis liacon's report (loth A]>ril, HJOl) of tlie
thirteen objectiojis against the b'liion in name." to his
" iinishing of a vei-y hmg re])(iit" (2iid 3iai'ch, Klo'i-T) —
t<'<j long to be g(jt through i]i o]ieda\- "of t he cunfrrciice
with the Lords on the point of general naturalization;" at

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 245

which time, by the way, his health had suffered so much
from his work that he was forced to " pray the House that
at other times they woukl use some other and not oppress
him with their favours ; " — and finally you must bear in
mind, that besides the business of working such a measure
as this through the Houses of Parliament (a task which
indeed proved after all too hard to be accomplished), the
preliminary task of guiding the labours of the Commis-
sioners to a successful termination (itself no easy one),
which was accomplished with remarkable unanimity and
despatch by the close of the year 1604, rested principally
upon his industry and address.

Wei], but what was the use of it all ? No great matter
came of it.

True. But we are considering, not the results of his life
to other j^eople, — I could give a fair account of them too, —
but the life itself as illustrative of his character and pur-
poses. The fig-tree was cursed because it bore no fruit, not
because men threw the fruit away. If you would form to
yourself a true image of the man and his life, you must not
pass such a work as this over as if it were nothing, merely
because nothing came of it, but must endeavour to let the
labour and the endeavour hare their due impression and
importance. Not however that I claim for him any special
and jDCculiar merit on account of this service, beyond that
of diligence, judgment, and an eye to the larger interests of
the State. I do not say that there was any extraordinary
virtue in doing what he ought to do on this occasion ; 1
only say that it ims what he ought to do, — a worthy object
well aimed at and strenuously endeavoured after ; something
much more than making a brilliant speech in the House of
Commons ; — and in that resjiect of a piece with the rest
of his life, according to my view of it, — so far as we have
gone.

24g ltenixgs with a bevieweu.

Nobody finds any fault with liim for this that I know of.
But you are to remember that if it was good public service,
it was good court-service too. There must have been j)ro-
S})ect of a vacancy in the Solicitorship, and it was a good
road to that.

No doubt, no doubt. Tliore must have been a prospect,
more or less remote, when he began ; nay, before he got
half-through, there was an actual vacancy. But if that was
what his service aimed at, he was disappointed. His bio-
graphers do not mention it ; but it is true tliat on the 28th
of October (the day before the Commissioners of the Union
began their labours) Sir Thomas Fleming, the then Solicitor,
was advanced to the office of (liief Baron, and tlie vacant
Solicitorship was bestowed on Serjeant Dodderidge.

And what did Bacon say to that?

T never heard that he said anything. Not a word, 1
tliink, is on record from wliicli it can ]je inferred tliat lie
either asked for the jjlace for himself, (lie was probably too
intent upon his business to 1)0 attendiiig to his foituncs,)
or uttered a syllable of complaint U]ion being passed over.
And from the records which remain of the course he was
j)ursui)ig both before and after, no one, I am sure, woidd
guess that anything had oceurred between to discontent
him. Seci'otly disapjiointe 1 he may very well have l)oen.
Tie was now ten years older than when the world had voted
liiin worthy of ;i higher place; and the labours and dis-
tiiu'tiojis oi' the hist session must have both tested his ability
and ]~aised his J'eputation to the height, T(j judge froin the
continuiil reeiin'enee (»f his iianie in tlie Joui'uals as selected
lor all the mtjst deli<'ate and iinj^oi't.int servi(3es, he must

EVENINGS WJTTI A REVIEWEB. 247

have been generally recognized as the foremost man in the
House of Commons. lie was forty -four years old ; and
tliough his debts were now cleared off, his income, as we
have seen, was still a very narrow one for a man in his
position, with objects so vast and pretensions so undeniable.
Disappointed, therefore, I dare say he was. But according
to his estimate of life and its duties, no private disappoint-
ment could be a wortliy motive to him for slackening his
endeavours to promote what he conceived to be a great
public object. You will find therefore that whatever he
may have felt, he continued to act as if uothijig had hap-
pened.

But all this is from our present purpose. I tell you that
I cite his conduct in this matter of the Union, not as
evincing any extraordinary virtue ; it involved no sacrifice
except of health and leisure, and it was, as you suggest, the
road to preferment, though it was not undertaken upon any
bargain for preferment, and tli(3Ugh it did not at present
lead to any ; I cite it only as showing that he still continued
constant to the greater interests of his country, not to be
wearied in pursuing them, and — though I will not say not
looking for a reward (wliich he migiit surely do without
blame)- — yet not to be turned aside, slackened, or disgusted,
wlicn the natural reward did not come. And what more do
you ask of a man ? It is not in going unrewarded that the
virtue consists, but in going rigid wliether rewarded or not.

I have not half done yet. The union of the king-
doms was only one of tlie great interests which were now
calling upon him for help. The next was the state of the
Church, whicli had now a fresh chance of being recovered
from its distractions and restored to a sounder condition.
And upon this subject also he addressed a discourse to the
King on his first coming in, which (like almost all his
Avritings), though addressed to the immediate exigencies of
his day, is scarcely less applicable to our own.

Which side was he on ?

248 EVEXIXGS WITH A JlEVIEWEn.

On the side of true religion and good government, wliicli
included the interests of all sides, — therefore flattered the
prejudices of none. It may seem strange, perhaps, that he
should intermeddle at all in these religious differences,
seeing that they were out of his province, and that the part
he took was so little fitted to ingratiate him with either
party. But the circumstances under which he entered life
must naturally have led him to take a deep inteiest in the
subji'ct. From his earliest youth he must have heard a
jxreat deal of the risin<^ bodv of Nonconformists. Cam-
bridge, during his residence there, was agitated by the
controversy between them and the High-Churchmen. \A'hen
he returned from France he found them rising rapidly into
imp rtauce. They had among them many of the most
diligent, zealous, pious, and learned members of the Church,
and had obtained a strong interest in the House of Com-
mons. The abuses they complained of were many of them
real and grave, the removal of which would have been a
great public benefit. The rest vore for the most part
matters of outward form and ceremony, not worth quarreling
about ; yet the cause of a quarrel whicli was fast leading to
a serious rupture. The Parliament in which he first sat,
being tlien only twenty-four years old, was much occu})ie(l
witli a petition for the reformation of abuses in Church
government (famous as the " sixteen-fold petition"'), in
which th(i Commons \\anted tlie Lords to join, and which
led to a great deal of disciissii»n. The particulars of tlie
(h'ltatcs we do not know, and lie was too young a membi r
})robaf)]y to talcc any active part in th('m,l)ut lie was on that
account all the m(jre lik<dy to be an attentive and anxious
listraier. TJu-rc he must have heard tlie particulars of these
abuses aiiijily set forth and veliementlv disi)uted. Jb' must
have heard of ])arishes served by ministers unlearned and
ii)C(mipet<'?it, or not served at all; — of men of the greatest
learning and the purf'.-t lives su^jiended from their ministrv
f(j!' objeeting to \\eav a sni'[)liee, (ir for refusing to subscribe

EVEXIXGS WITH A REVIEWEn. 240

articles newl}^ devised, not imposed by the statutes of the
realm, not touching any vital or essential points of doctrine ;
• — of the gravest functions of the Bishops delegated to
officials and commissaries ; — of ministers compelled to
answer on oath to any questions which the Bishops might
think fit to ask, either out of their own vague suspicions or
out of the suggestions of common rumour ; — of excommuni-
cation abused into an ordinary instiument for enforcing
slight points of discipline or exacting fees; — of the sup-
pression by authority of those conferences and exercises
among the clergy which were best fitted to instruct and
practise them in the duties of their calling; — of non-residents
and pluralists ; — and much else of the kind. He must also
have heard measures for the redress of these defects and
abuses proposed and argued in no immoderate or unreason-
able spirit ; must have seen the grounds upon which the
authorities resisted them ; must have formed his own opinion
upon the merits of the controversy and the issue to which it
was inevitably leading. "What that issue must be it was not
difficult to foretell. The principal demands of the main
body of reformers were as yet indeed moderate and just and
involved no violent alteration; but the extremes were already
beginning to assail the very constitution of the Church, and
to erect within it a government by synods, — that is to say,
a government essentially democratical luitliin a government
essentially monarchical; — a most perilous proceeding, because
as the two could never have gone at the same pace, one
must before long have overthrown the other ; — and it must
have been clear enough to such a judgment as his, that
unless the Church could distinguisli and detach tlie moderate
from the immoderate, they would be continually drawing
closer torrether and makino; a common cause of it. All this
lie must have seen upon his first entrance into jDublic life.
It is not strange therefore if to his watching and under-
standing eyes these Church controversies seemed (as the
events of the next century proved that they indeed were)
the gravest and most critical question of the times. It was
in fact the infanf^v of tlic memorable struixirh' liclwcen tlu.'

250 Evi:xTXOS with a nEviEWEn.

High Churcli and the Puritans ; anrl npon the wise handling
of it at this time hung the question whether the nation
shouhl proceed peaceably thron'2;h stages of progressive
reform or be sliaken to its centre by a struggle between the
ojDposing principles.

The authorities of the Churcli, seeing no further tlian
authorities commonly do, saw nothing in the Puritans ex-
cept a turbulent faction, which was to be suppressed in its
beginnings ; on that obi English })rinci})le, — which though
continually compelled to sliift its ground, could never yet
in England be taught to understand its error, and had not
then been taught even to understand its helplessness, — that
concession would only embolden them to make further
demands. But Bacon knew better. His own mother was a
Puritan, sympathising witli the cause from the bottom of
her noble old soul ; and well he must have known that,
however poor and narrow the creed, there burned at tlie
centre of that cause a lire of authentic faitii, which an
attempt to suppress by denying it vent might raise into a
conllagrati(^ii, but couhl never put out. The one cliance for
the Church was to understand this l^erself, and to understand
it in time ; and thereupon to seek, by casting out all tliat was
evil in herself, to assimilate and dr;iw into her system all that
was good in them ; — a course wliicli, had it been commenced
soon enough and judiciously followed out, would pr(»bably
have converted the stream that not many years after burst
in upon her like a torreut and ihjoded all her chambers, into
a S(Uirce (.)f C(.)iitinual supply, health, and rei'resluaent.

If these weie Bacon's views in Lj^-i, the eveuts of the
years immediatidy felhjwiug must luive strongly confirmed
them. The re-tdiitien of the (government to alter nothing-
was followed by iiercc:r agitations, !)older demands, moi'c
s<,-ttled disaffeei ion, antl a In-eaeh growing e\ erv dav wiiler.
It was then (about the year irt.Sl;) that he stej)pod out of his
way to volunteer that advice upon this sul'jeet which I have
already jnentiojied, and if possible^ to turji the thoughts of
the contending ])arlies into the ]U'o{)er eliannel.

" Ye ai'i- lii'i'tlo-en," lie said; " wl:y ^l^ive ye? Our

EVENINOS WITH A BEVIEWER. 251

controversies we all know and confess are not of the highest
natiire ; they do not touch the high mysteries of the faith or

the great parts of the worship of God Wo contend about

ceremonies and things indifferent ; ahont the extern poliny and
government of the Church ; in wiiich kind if we would hut
remember that the ancient and true bonds of unity are one faith,
one baptism, and not one ceremony, one 'policy ; if we would but
observe the league that is penned by our Saviour, Re that is not
ajainst us is with us ; if we could but comprehend that saying,
Dijferentide rituum commandant unitatem doclrinse, — the diversities
of ceremonies do set forth the unity of doctrine ; and that
Hahet lieligio quae sunt seterni'atis, hahet quae sunt femporis, — ■
lieligion hath parts which belong to eternity, and parts which
pertain to time ; and if we did but know the virtue of silence
and slowness to speak, commended by St. James ; — our con-
troversies would of themselves close up and grow together."

Ho implored both parties, but especially the Church
party as being then the stronger, to consider how far they
liad been carried away in the heat of controversy from their
first position, and how many things there were unsound and
untenable in their case as it now stood.

" Again, to my Lords the Bisliops I say that it is hard for
them to avoid blame in the o]iinion of an indifferent person, in
standing so precisely upon altering nothing. Leges novis Icgihus
non recreatse ace.-^cunt, — Laws not refreshed with new laws wax
sour. Qui mala non perruutat in bonis non perscverat, — Without
changing the ill a man cannot continue the good. To take away
many abuses supplanteth not good orders but establisheth them.
Morosa moris retentio res tnrbulenta est seque ac novitas, — A conten-
tious retaining of custoin is a turbulent thing as well as inno-
vation. A good husl)andman is ever pruning in ids vineyard ; not
unseasonably, not unskilfully, but lightly he ever findeth some-
what to do. We have heard of no ofters from the Bisliops of bills
in Parliament, which no doubt, proceeding from them to whom
it ^n'opt rly belongeth, would have everyAvhere received accep-
tation. Their own constitutions and orders have reformed little.
Is nothing amiss ? Can an}' man defend the use of excommu-
nication as a base pi-ocess to lacquey up and down for fees, —
it being a precursory judgment of the latter day? is there no
mean to train and nurse up ministers (for the yield of the Uni-
ver.-ities will not serve tliough they were never so well governed)

252 EVEXiXGS WITH a he vie web.

— to train tliem, I say, not to preach, (for that every man con-
fidenily adventureth to do,) biit to preach soundly and to handle
the Scriptures with wisdom and judgment ? . . . . Other things
might be spoken of. I pray God to inspiie the Bishops with
fervent love and care of his people, and that they may not
so much ui'ge things in controversy as things out of controversy,
which all men confess to be gracious and good."

This and much more in the same strain lie ha<l pressed
upon the attention of the Church at that time ; fifteen years
before the time we are now speaking of. But the city was
not yet in such jeopardy as to bethink itself of the poor
wise man who by his wisdom might have delivered it. The
poor man's wisdom was despised and his words were not
heard.

A new reign offered a new cliance. " The first impres-
sion continueth long, and when men's minds are most in
expectation and suspense, then are they best wrouglit and
managed." Now was the time, or never. Another strokt;
of the clock and the time would never be. And now once
more he tried the chance of his words. xVfter rapidly run-
ning over some of the j)ri]icipal arguments, whicli he had
formerly urged more at large, in favour of a reformation
within the Church (for in all Bacon's proposals and ideas
of reform there is a latent condition that the reform slrall
be from within), he proceeds to recommend certain jiarticular
points for consideration. The substance of his recommenda-
tions I cannot give in much smaller compass than the work
itself. Like all his writings on business, it is all substance.
]>ut 1 should like to give you some notion of tlie scope, at
least, and tendency of them ; because [ tliink it will convince
you that a man who saw the question in that liglit must
have beeii really an.\i(nis to see tilings put in tliat train;
must liave felt it a kind of duty to do wliat he could himself
to that en(l ; and (Iiow much soever he mav have been
longing, as 1 have no doubt lie was, to be at his Novum
Organum and his experiments) could n(jt have felt juslified
in indulging tlie iii(dination, and sitting down to sliow the
ni.'xt ag('S how they might impreive iheir fortune^, wliile

EVENINGS WITH A BEVIE^YEB. 253

Le saw the most precious part of the inheritance which thoy
were to derive from the present age going to the dogs before
his eyes. A true apprehension of tliis will make a most
important difference in your estimate of his cliaracter, and
will reconcile many seeming inconsistencies by showing tliat
they were in fact only the natural branches and develop-
ments of one consistent purpose. Do not lightly believe
that the hours which he spent in efforts to serve the State
were hours of weakness in which the temptations of vulgar
ambition triumphed over his better nature and wiser judg-
ment. The time employed by a prime minister in ordering
the affairs of his family — you do not consider it mis-spent
because it might have been employed in improving the
public fortunes. Why should you suppose that the days
which a philosopher devotes to the immediate concerns of
his own generation are misemployed, because the interests
of one generation are small compared with those of the
human race ? It may sound very heroical to sit apart and
d-^spise what the rest of mankind are fighting for ; but it
is not really so. It is only your amateur Jiero who is above
the business of his day ; your true hero sets his hand to
the work.

Well, well ; let me first liear what he did for his own
generation, and then we will consider whether it was worthy
of him.

What he did, — or what he tried to do. A man who
would do all he can must aim at much that ho can not.

Well, this paper (which is entitled " Certain Considera-
tions touching the better Pacification and Edification of the
Church of England ") is not so much a treatise as a memorial
of business ; — a collection of the several points which re-
quired consideration with a view to practical reform : small
points tlierefore as W( 11 as great; and taken in the order
best suited for that purpose ; consequently not the best for

254 ErEXJXGS with a beviewei;.

ours. For what concerns us, it will be better to break the
matter into different divisions.

Now I a'ather from it that tlie troul:)lcs and danirers of
the Church in that day grew in Bacon's opinion from defects
in four principal departments : from defects in the constitu-
tion of its government ; from want of adequate resources ;
from imperfect or injudicious methods of providing for its
greater and more essential objects ; and from needless strict-
ness and pertinacity in insisting upon points indifferent or
not essential.

For the first : the Bishops were in the habit of exercising
their authority rt/one ; whereas he conceived that according
to the primitive and true constitution of the Church, the
Dean and Chapter were the Bishop's council ; and that the
Bishop ouglit, in all his more important functions, to act
with their advice, as a king with the advice of his privy
council ; — a change which would have gone far to satisfy
one important clause in the Petition of 1584 ; with this great
advantage over the suggestion of the petitioners, — that it
would have fitted better into the existing framework of the
constitution, and might have been introduced at once, silently
and without disturbance.

They were also in the habit of exercising their authority
ly dejjuti/ ; which (as in an office of trust and confidence) he
considered unallowable ; flunking tliat in all causes that
" required a spiritual science and discretion in respect of
their nature or of the scandal," — (tithe and testamentary
causes he set apart as Ijeing in tlieir nature temp<jral) — no
audience should be given but by the Bisliop himself in
council.

]\roreover, tlie forms of ecclesiastical proceeding gave
the Bishops a larger power in exandning parties U})un tlieir
oath tlian v>as a]Ie)wed liy tlie Comraon Law; and tliis
(widcli liad )jee]i al)us('d info a great })ract!cal c"rievance
and a ]\ind of J'rote-^itant Incjuisition) he tliouglit ought to
be limited.

These, t(»getlier wilii some plan iiot explained iji detail,
for adding strength to tlie general Council of the llergy,

EVENINGS WITU A BEVIEWER. 255

were the principal reforms wliich be wished in what may bo
called the Constitution of the Church ; — reforms which seem
simple and obvious enoug-h, but wliich would have had
practical consequences perhaps more important than any
man can guess.

For the second point. The insufficiency of the resources
of the Church he speaks of as a thing generally felt and
admitted : —

" That the case of this Church de facto" (he says) "is such
that there is a want in the Churcli patvinioriy, is confessed.
For the principal places, namely the Bishops' livings, are in
some particulars insufficient, and therefore enforced to be sup-
plied by toleration of Commcndams, things in themselves unfit
and ever held of no good repute. But as for the benefices and
pastors' places, it is too manifest that very many of them are
very weak and pentiricms."

The cause of this iusafSciency was the number of impro-
priations (to the value, he says, of more than ten subsidies)
given away from the Church in Henry the Eighth's time,
and so given away that it was utterly impissible for the
Church to claim them back again. The remedy, he hints,
but without entering into particulars, was to bo looked for
from Parliament. For as he holds Henry the Eighth's
Parliaments responsible for the deficiency, so he holds all
succeeding Parliaments bound in some sort to make it good,
and to restore the patrimony of the Church to a competency.

Thirdly, with regard to the internal regulations of the
Church, the cardinal defect (and one which was also urged
in the Petition of 158-i) was the want of a good system for
training up competent preachers and excluding incompetent
ones. The first he proposes to remedy, in accordance with
the prayer of that petition, by a revival of the disused
exercise of " prophesying."

What might that be? The defect still flourishes, and
we are still in want of the revival, or the discovery, of some-
thing to correct it. I should like to hear Bacon's ideas on
that point.

25G EVEXIXGS WITH A UEVIEWEU.

Well, tlio explanation is not lonj^. You shall have it in
his own words. — It would be desirable (he says) to revive—

" that good exercif-e which was practised in the Church for
some years and afterwards put down (by order indeed from tlie
Church, in respect of some abuses thereof inconvenient for those
times, and yet against the advice and opinion of one of the
greatest and gravest prelates of this land) " —

This <\'as Archbishop Grindel, wdiose expostulations about
it to Queen Elizabeth you may see iu Fuller's "' Church
History.

■ — "and was commonly called prophesying; which was this, —
that the ministers within a precinct did meet upon a week-day
in some principal town, Avhere thei'c was some ancient grave
minister that was presi'lent, and an auditory admitted of gentle-
men or other persons of leisure ; then every minister successively,
beginning with the youngest, did handle one and tlie same piece
of Scripture, spending severally some cpiartei' of an hour or
better, and in the whole some two hours; and so the exercise
being begun and concluded with prayer, and the president
giving a text for the next meeting, the assembly was dissolved.
And this was, as 1 take it, a fortnight's exercise ; which was in
mine opinion the best way to frame and train up preachers to
liandle the word of God as it ouglit to be handled that hath been
practised. For we see orators have their declamations, lawyers
liavo their moots, logicians their sophisms, and every practice
of science hath an erudition and initiation l)efore men come to
the life; only preaching, which is the w(jrthiest, and wherein
it is mo.-^t danger to do amiss, wanteth an introduction and is
ventured and ru.died upon at the flr.^t. But unto this exeieise of
prophecy I woidd Avish these two adilitions : the one, that after
this exercise, whieli is in SMiue sort }iublic, tlid'e were imniedialely
a privi(t(; nief'ting of tlie s-one miuist' rs, where they might
brotherly adniniiish the ()ne tlie other, and especially the elder
sort tlie youiigei-. of anytliing that had ]iasseil in tlie eonffreiieo
in matter or manner unsound or uneomely ; and, in a word,
might mutually use sueh advi<.:e, inst i uctiini, coiuCoi't, or en-
couragement, as occasion might minister (for jiublic rcjire-
heiisioii were to be debanedj. d'he othc]- adilition thai 1 mean
is, that the same exercises were used in the L'niversities lor

EVENIXGS WITH A REVIEWEU. 257

yoTing divines before they presumed to preach, as well as in
the country for ministers. For they have in some colleges an
exercise called a Common-place, which can in no degree be
so profitable, being but the speech of one man at one time."

There you have Bacon's proposition for educating
preachers in their business. What do you say to it ? Might
the Church, think you, still profit by the hint ?

That is a question not easily answered on the sudden.
If you look to the progress of opinion, you would say No ;
for opinion seems to run the other way. Lawyers have
given up their moots ; orators their declamations ; logicians
and their sophisms are alike obsolete ; only the names and
forms remain (or did remain in my time) at the Universities ;
empty ceremonial observances which do not even affect to
bo of any use. And yet, on the other hand, if you look to
the fruits, you would hardly say that the change in this
respect has worked well. ISTay, it would seem too that the
want is practically felt by those who wish to learn, though
not recognized by those who have to teach : witness in all
places of education the springing up of debating-societies,
which are nothing but schools for practice, only without the
schoolmaster.

But we shall never get this review despatched if we stop
to reform the Church by the way. I see what you mean.
And I grant that the object Bacon had in view was great,
and the occasion pressing ; for preaching was not so harm-
less a thing then as it is now, and the times had not so much
leisure to wait upon the leisure of the Bishops. — Well, and
how did he propose to exclude incompetent preachers ?

That was simple enough ; only by taking better care to
ascertain the competency of those that were admitted ; —
making ordination a more careful and solemn matter : — that
is, by taking order (it is best to use his own words) for —

" a more exact probation and examination of ministers ;
namely, that the Bishops do not ordain alone, but by advice;
VOL. I. S

258 EVE NINO S WITB A REVIEWER .

and then that ancient holy order of the Church might be re-
vived, by which the Bishop did ordain ministers but at four
get times of the year, which were called Qnatuor Temjiora^
which are now called Ember icecJcs ; it being thought fit to
accompany so high an action with general fasting and praj-cr
and sermons, and all holy exercises ; and the names likewise of
those that were to be ordained were published some days before
their ordination, to the end exceptions might be taken if just
cause were."

A suggestion to this effect also, or something like it, was
contained in the Petition of 1584.

That of the Qiiatuor Tempera was of course meant for
times when fasting had still some meaning in it.

Yes ; translate it into the language and spirit of our own,
and it will be— I do not very well know what — but wliatever
outward observances are best fitted to impress upon the
occasion a character of gravity, solemnity, and sanctity.

The Bishops might give four dinners.

Ilush ! The business we are talking of was high earnest
in its own day.

It appears also that besides tlic parislies wliich were
served by preachers not properly qualified, there were many
that had not the benefit of any preacher at all. For remedy
of tliis evil, he would have had an end i)ut to non-residence,
and some arrangement made (until the number of preachers
could be sulliciently increased) eitlier for such a permutation
of benefices as miglit enable each preacher to attend more
thaji on(' parisli, or f(jr the appointment of some jireachers
" with a more general charge to siip})ly and serve by turn
parishes unfurnished."

EVENINGS WITE A BEVIEWER. 259

Then, in addition to these deficiencies, there were some
particular abuses (as especially that of excommunication)
which brought the Church into disrepute ; and some stum-
bling-blocks to nice consciences that were needlessly insisted
on ; as especially the cap and surplice, which being objected
to by the dissentient party as superstitious, the Church must
needs enforce by articles of subscription !— grave matters
both in the year 1 603, however worn out of date now ; the
one fallen from a living judgment to a dead letter ; the other
from a point of conscience to a point of foppery, which the
authorities of the Church cannot do better than leave to find
its own way to the limbo of vanity ; but questions then of
most serious import, pregnant with all distraction, com-
motion, and civil war.

xi.

The difJSculty there, I suppose, was not in devising the
remedy, but in persuading the authorities to apply it. There
could be no difficulty in putting a stop to the abuse of
excommunication, or in ceasing to quarrel with ministers
otherwise pious and competent on account of the cap and
surplice.

Just so. Excommunication, as the greatest of earthly
judgments, he would have had strictly confined to the greatest
causes, and would have had proceed under the gravest forms;
some ordinary process being allowed to the Ecclesiastical
Courts for dealing with offences of lesser degree. And as
for the cap and surplice, he would have had them treated as
matters indifferent, which had nothing to do with the unity
of the Church, but only with uniformity ; therefore as ques-
tions of policy, not of religion. He would have had them
tolerated, not by connivance, but authority ; and the sub-
scription reserved for its proper office, which was to " bind
in the unity of the Faith," not to enforce points of outward
government.

His remarks upon the Eitual, which was the fourth point,

2 GO E VEXING S WITH A BE VIE WEB.

are scarcely worth dwelling upon. Our modern Prayer-book
might almost have sat for his sketch of the Liturgy as it
should be. And the parts which he points out as objection-
able have either been altered or become so familiar that the
objection is obsolete. At the time they were all points (no
doubt) which nice consciences or superstitious apprehensions
started at ; as in fact they would do at this day if they were
new questions ; and his policy was to remove all things to
M'hich that objection applied, so long as they were in them-
selves indifferent. Some good peojilo, for instance, Mere
scandalized at the word jjriest ; — then why not use minister,
at which no one was scandalized? Others objected to the
form of general absolution ; why retain it, — being, as it was,
" both unnecessary and improper " ?

Does he say, or can you tell mo, how that form of general
absolution ever came there ? I have always wondered what
was the use of it, — especially as forbidden to bo read by
anybody but a priest. For I could never make out that it
was anything more than the assertion of a fact, which would
be just as much a fact if announced by the deacon as by the
priest, or by the clerk as by the deacon. It is right, no
doubt, on account of its solemnity, that it should be read by
the highest functionary present; just as the blessing is ; but
when no priest is there, why the dcac(m should not bo
allowed to read it, I never could understand.

r)acon's opinion is, that it was ''allowed at tlie first in a
land of spiritual discretion; because tlie Cliurch tliouijht the
people could not bo suddenly weaned from the conceit of
assoiling, to wliich they had been so long accustomed."

A real rag then of tlic scarlet woman? W'liat a noise
tliere would be about it if it were a n('\N- tliini^- now !

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 2G1

Yes ; but pray do not wake it, being so happily asleep
as it is !

Well then — the practice of the Church in those days
seems to have caused some misgivings as to the meaning
and purpose of the Confirmation Service ; as if it were
meant for a Confirmation of the previous BaiJtism ; — an idea
shocking to the Puritans, and indeed not intentionally
countenanced by the Bishops. Upon this point he suggests
that there was no diiference, but only a misunderstanding ;
the accidental alterations of time and circumstance having
made it seem like a " subsequent to Baptism," when it was
in fact only " an inducement to the Communion ; " and
the misunderstanding seems to have been set right at the
time.

Was he right in that ? I think our modern authorities,
— Palmer in his Origines Liturgies, Bingham in his Chris-
tian Antiquities, and Jeremy Taylor in his Worthy Com-
municant,— are all against him.

I cannot pretend to decide that question myself But I
doubt whether there be any of our modern authorities that
know more of the matter than Bacon did. I fancy the
. Hampton Court people were all with him.

A real abuse (which also appears to have been set right)
was the practice of private baptism by women and lay
persons. And he makes two criticisms upon the Marriage
Service,' — of little importance in themselves, but worth
mentioning, as illustrative, the one of his own taste, the
other of the progress of the age in refinement and con-
ventional delicacy. If the question were a modern one,
I think we should all agree with him on both ; viz. first,
that the putting on of the ring is "a ceremony not grave;
specially to be made (as the words make it) an essential

2C>2 EVENINGS WITH A ItEVTEWER.

part of the action ; " — and secondly, that " some of the other
words are noted in common speech to be not so decent and
fit."

These however (as I said) are matters of small interest
for lis now. If they were new they would raise great dis-
]>ntes ; but they are above two hundred years old, we are
all used to them, and they do very well. No judicious man
would care to disturb them. What I wish you to remark
and bear in mind is, the general purpose and principal
features of this paper ; as showing tlie spirit in which Uacon
worked on all occasions when he went out of his way to take
a part. My own impression is that it was not only well
meant, but well aimed ; and that if his advice had been
followed, the succeeding centuries would have had quite a
different history. For as in differences between neighbours,
the question whether two families shall be friends or
enemies for years to come, depends ujion the temper of the
first answer; so in tlie larger theatres of the world, tlio
entertainment of the first motion for reform decides whether
there shall be peace or war half a century after.

And what did your friend the King say to these sugges-
tions?

Judging from Fuller's account of the Hampton ('ourt
conference, I thijik he was <lisposod to adopt some (jf the
smaller ones ; Irut being still, as it were, in the honeymoon
(^f his new reign, and ovorilowing ^\ith kindjicss towards
e[)iscopacy, he allowed himself to be easily overruled by tho
Ijjshops, and upon the whole, one luay say that they were
thrown away. Fhis was ijidced James's own sp(X'i;il \)vi)-
vince, and he ni;inag(,'d it after his own fiishion, which as in
most other things was rather well-iiicant than eil'eetnal.
The ])ishops had llieir way in the end, ami the agitations
went on. it was iiot howevei' till allei' James's death that
the Church l)egan to go with lull career in the opposile
direetioji ; aiid you know what was tli" end of that, In the

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 2G3

mean time the credit which Bacon retained with the Church
reform party in the House of Commons may be taken as a
strong argument in favour of the policy which he recom-
mended. In the conference which was held between the
two Houses in 1606 concerning ecclesiastical grievances,
the setting forth of the first head, which related to the
silenced ministers, was intrusted to him ; so also was the
report ; — and these were parts far too important to be as-
signed to any one who was supposed to be lukewarm in the
cause. Nor do I find that he ever declined from his
original opinion ; to the justice of which, indeed, the events
which followed must have been daily bearing witness. — But
that was after. At present I want to keep within the first
year or two of James's reign, while most of these questions
of state were in a manner new.

You mean when they were reopened upon a clear stage.

Yes ; while they were res Integra, as they say.

Well. The opportunity of applying effectual remedies
to this, the main seat of the disorder under which the State
laboured, was, as I say, lost. That Hampton Court con-
ference— (an ill-advised measure, which I will answer for it
Bacon never advised or hoped any good from),— was rather
calculated to drive the disease inwards. There was no hope
for the present of a cure ; and it was all the more necessary
to keep the patient free from other complaints and from
accidents of weather If the divisions of the Church were
not to bo healed, divisions in State might yet be avoided.
The King and the Puritan clergy had parted with mutual
dissatisfaction. But the King and Parliament might still
meet on good terms and proceed harmoniously. Not with-
out wary steering, though ; for there were some dangerous
rocks in the way. Parliament met on the 19th of JMarch,
1603-4 ; and in the very first week behold brealvers ahead !
The election of Sir Francis Goodwin for Buckinghamshire

264 EVENINGS WITH A EE VIEWER.

(which finds a conspicuous place in all histories as an
important landmark in the constitution) threw the Commons
at once in collision with the Court of Chancery, the House
of Lords, and the King himself. xVnd the management of
the matter is well worth considering, — as an example from
which the Commons might have learned how to carry all
their other points of constitutional privilege at once most
rapidly, most effectually, and with least disturbance.

I hope you are going to explain particulars, for I re-
member no more of the matter than tliat it ended in a
recognition of the right of the House to judge of returns to
its own writs.

All the particulars which are necessary to make what I
am going to say intelligible, are easily told : —

In the Proclamation for calling the new Parliament, a
clause had been inserted forbidding the election of outlaws.
Sir Francis Goodwin, who had been outlawed, was elected
for Buckinghamshire ; but the return being refused by tlio
Clerk of the Crown on the strength of that clause, a new writ
was issued from the Chancery, and 8ir John Fortescue, a
privy councillor, was elected instead. This was before Par-
liament met. Immediately upon its meeting the case was
brought before the House of Commons ; upon a full conside-
ration of the question, it was resolved that Sir Francis liad
been duly elected ; the Clerk of the Crown was ordered to
file the first return ; and Sir Francis took the oaths and his
seat. In the debate whicli ended in this resolution Ba(;ou
took a prominent part, but no recortl remaiiis of what lie
said ; nor do we know even which side he tocjk, oidy that we
may infer from tlio subsequent proceelings that he was not
dissentient. This was on Friday, 31areh 20nl; and thus far
tliey were at issue only witli tlio Court of Chanct-ry, upo]] i]\yi
<jU(,'stion oi jurisdiction, — to which of thcni it bt'luJigod {')
judge of the validity of thu return.

EVENINGS WITH A JREVIEWEU. 2G5

But on the following Tuesday the Lords desired a con-
ference upon the subject. This the Commons declined ; as
conceiving that it did not stand with the honour or order of
the House to give account of any of their proceedings. So
now they were at issue with the Lords. But this was not
the worst ; for the same day came another message, signify-
ing that the King, having been made acquainted with the
matter, and finding himself touched in honour, desired that
there might be a conference on. it between the two Houses.
So now they were fairly in collision with all three ; the
Chancery whose judgment they had reversed, the Lords
with whom they had refused to confer, and the King who
had taken part with the Lords. Upon this, they moved for
access to the King himself, which was granted the next
morning ; when the Speaker, attended by a select committee,
explained to him their whole proceeding and the grounds of
it ; heard his answer to the several points (for new as the
question was to him he argued it himself, and argued it they
say with great ability), and received his charge ; which was
that they should first resolve among themselves, then confer
with the Judges, and report to tlie Council.

And now came the real difficulty. For they were now
engaged in a direct dispute with the King himself, nut
merely upon the question of conferring with the Lords, but
upon the entire constitutional question and each several
point of it. And now what shall they do ?

I suppose there is no doubt that the King was in the
wrong ?

There is no doubt now ; because the doubt ^^•hich then
was — (a considerable one, seeing that all the Judges were on
the King's side ; and as we all assume that whenever he
diifered from them there was nothing to be said for him, wo
ought to suppose that there was something to be said for
him when he agreed with them) — that doubt, I say, was then
set at rest. But this is not the difficulty which I moan. 1

2GG EVEXIXCrS WITH A BEVIEWER.

know very well that to modern patriotism the difficulty
seems small enough; the Commons had only to insist, tlie
King and the Judges had only to give way. But in the year
1G04 this was an arrangement not so easily effected. All
things are done in England by precedent, and there was no
precedent exactly in point. When Queen Elizabeth got
into a contest with the Commons which seemed likely to
prove a tough one, her way was to give them a rougii
reprimand and send them about their business, — taking good
care however that by the time they met again the cause of
contention should have disappeared. In that way the
Commons had carried many points against the Crown ; but
none, I think, — unless in times of disorder and danger — by
persisting in a course of flat opposition. Here Prerogative
and Privilege (which had not yet settled which was master
by a stand-up fight) found themselves suddenly ftice to face
in a narrow passage. Either one must stand aside to let the
other pass, or each must be content with half the causeway.
Upon one point the Commons seem to have been at once and
unanimously resolved, — to stand fast by the principle that
they were judges of their own returns, solo and unaccount-
able. No one talked of a compromise on that point, lint
upon the question how they should proceed in asserting it,
opinions were much divided. And here it was that IJacon
became, as I take it, an important actor in the matter. His
advice was, — so far as it can be gathered from the notes of
his speech that remain in the Journals, — not to enter into a
contest with the King upon the jiarticular case ; l>ut to turn
the dispute upon the general principle and im})rove the
occasion so as to get that ascertained and settled for tlio
future. The King luid desired tliat they would argue tlio
question before th(; Judges; — consent to do so; and in the
meantime "consider and res(Jve of the luaterial questions
whicli will fall out in the debate of it."

This advice was not exactly foll(jwed by the House ; was
indeed in one very material ]»oint ov(.'rruh;d ; for llcy
r.'solved not to c(jnfur with the Judges, but to address tlH'iii-
-:(dv<'S directlv 1" tlic King ; a nsoliilioii by no means

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEL. 2G7

judicious, if we may judge by the event ; since they were
forced before a week was over to abandon it. With this ex-
ception however they acted firmly and wisely. A committee
\\as appointed to consider the King's objections and to frame
an answer in writing. On the 3rd of April the answer (in
the drawing up of which Bacon — as I suspect from its
correspondence with what remains of his speech — had a
priucijjal hand) was reported, and a select committee was
appointed to take it up to the Lords ; — Bacon being spokes-
man, with a commission to read it to them, and desire their
co-operation for the King's satisfaction ; but not to amplify,
explain, or debate any question that might arise upon the
perusal. So the answer (which was in the form of a petition
to the King) was read, and there the matter ended for that
day.

The next day the inconvenience of thus proceeding with-
out previous conference with the Judges was made manifest.
The King sent for the Speaker, told him that he had received
the petition, that he had heard his Judges and Counsel in
the matter, that he was now distracted in judgment, and tliat
for his further satisfaction he " commanded as an absolute
King " that they would appoint a select committee to confer
witli the Judges in presence of the Council ; — the Council
being present not as umpires to determine, but as witnesses
to report.

Here was a new dilemma. For the question of conferring
with the Judges had been twice raised in the House and
absolutely resolved in the negative. Out of this there was
no way but back again. And the same member who liad
before been most vehement not only against conference, but
apparently against compromise of any kind, was now fore-
most to retreat. "The Prince's command," said Yelverton — •
(for it was he, not Bacon, that broke silence) — "is like a
thunderbolt. His command upon our allegiance is lilte the
roaring of a lion. ^Ve must obey ; the only question is
how." Another suggested that the King should bo petitioned
to be himself present at tlic conference, to iiear, judge, and
moderate the causo in person. And a select committee was

268 EVENIXQS WITH A BEVIEWER.

thereupon appointed to confer with the Judges in presence
of the King and Council, with commission to fortify and
explain their written answers, but not to enter into any new
argument.

This was too delicate a matter to bo entrusted to any
hand but the best they had, and Bacon was accordingly
selected to conduct the conference. He spoke for the
Commons ; the King presiding and speaking for himself.
The notes which remain of what passed are so few and dis-
connected, that one can hardly gather from them what form
the discussion took ; much less the particular arguments
urged on either side. Xor is this of much consequence,
except that one would be curious to know how Bacon con-
trived to steer clear of a disputation ; which seemed almost
inevitable, and could hardly have had a peaceable termina-
tion. If in order to avoid it, he was compelled a little to
exceed his commission by entertaining the question of a
compromise, — which there is some reason to suspect, — it was
a wise liberty, and the Commons were not disposed to quanxd
with him on that account ; for upon hearing his report of
what had passed, they agreed to a proposal, (in wliich f^ir
Francis Goodwin expressly acquiesced, and which it was
understood would satisfy the King,) that lotli returns should
be set aside and a new writ issued.

Then in fact the Commons gave way ?

Upon the particular case both Commons and King gave
way ; that is, each was content with half the way, and so
the quarrel ended. But upon the 'f/rinciijle the Commons
stood out, and carried their point: their right to judge of
such returns was never afterwards questioned. And thus by
that small imniatc-'rinl coiicession, — (tlie proposal of ^\llich
by Bacon, had it Ijeen resisted by tlie Coinmons and led to
a dissolution or to an endless (juari'd, would no doubt have
been branded by our popuhii' histcniuns and l)iogi;q)hcrs, as

EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWEJR. 269

"basG, servile, and unconstitutional,) — they did in fact obtain
quietly, orderly, effectually, and at once, the recognition for
ever of a most important constitutional privilege. By giving
■way to the King for the moment they had their own way
ever after.

I know that all this is a tiresome recapitulation of by-
gone matters which no longer concern us. I know that the
House of Commons does not want to be told how to make
good its privileges against Queen Victoria. But though the
question does not concern us directly, it concerns us in-
directly through those with whom we are concerned. This
question of privilege was not bygone when Bacon had to
deal with it, but new-come ; with an army of similar ques-
tions in its rear not yet come ; and if you want to under-
stand his life, you must endeavour to see it as it seemed to
him. I said the management of it was worth considering,
because it is in fact the best example I have met with of his
method of effecting what I called the harmonious adjustment
of the relation between the Crown and the Commons ; of
the rival pretensions of Prerogative and Privilege ; which
was the perpetually recurring problem of his times. The
best example, I say, out of very many of the kind. And
why the best? Because in this instance his advice was
allowed, though not exactly (which would have made it
better still), yet substantially and ultimately, to prevail.
As it was, that first refusal to confer with the Judges (which
was against his advice) had nearly shipwrecked all. And
had the high privilege party been a little stronger, or had
the management of the matter been entrusted to a man who
had less courage with his discretion, less discretion with his
courage, or less address with both, it could hardly have
escaped miscarriage in one or other of the houses, — either in
the conference itself or in the debate upon the report of the
conference. The difference was now happily accommodated ;
and I do believe that if the Commons had only been wise
enough to act always in the same spirit, there was scarcely
one of the differences that arose between them and the King
which might not have been accommodated as satisfactorily,

270 EVEXIXGS WITH A nEVIEWER.

— the King yielding to tliem upon the point of substance,
they to him upon the point of credit and honour. Eccle-
siastical grievances, impositions, monopolies, everything,
might have been adjusted almost as they would, if they
could only have been content to let him feel that in so
adjusting them he was using his prerogative and not
abandoning it. So, at least, I am persuaded that Bacon
thought; and the result in the present case must have
encouraged him to believe not only tluit it could be done,
but that if he could keep his credit with both parties, he
was the man who could do it. Now I say that this was an
object of such paramount and pressing importance, that a
man who foresaw the opposite issues to which the diverging
paths (between which they had now or never to choose)
must conduct the nation, and who at the same time felt that
he could himself do something to keep them in the path
which led to liberty through order and peace — such a man,
I say, must have been wanting in public spirit and masculine
virtue, if either out of preference for a quiet life, or in-
tolerance of human folly, or a fastitlious self-respect, he
C(juld be content to stand aloof and see them take the wrong
turn. I do not ([uarrel with Socrates or Plato, because I do
not know what opportunities they had ; but commend me to
Pericles and Demosthenes. The complexion that bears wind
and weather is the complexion for a man, be he citizen or be
he subject.

You said that this was one example out of many.

I might almost have said that it was a sample of all.
But there was no "Hansard" in tliose days; and the records
of the })roc<'edings in ]*arliameut are so scanty and imperl'ect
that I cannot reduce tliom into a narrative ^vit]lout making-
larger guesses than 1 sliould like to be responsible for. To
recount all the cases liowever in wliicli tliere is a'ood evideiice
that Bacon's servic(;s were found available during this session
for kee2)ing those uneasy iieiglibuurs, l*rivih'ge and Pre-

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 271

rc^;-ative, from coining into rougli collision, would hold mo
till to-morrow. If you will look through the Commons'
Journals you will find that, notwithstanding his daily occu-
pation in the great business of the Union, as soon as any
other business becomes critical or difficult the management
of it generally falls upon him.

Was there not — yes, I am sure I remember something
about another question of Privilege, which gave a great deal
of trouble about that time.

The case of Sir Thomas Shirley. — Yes, a very important
privilege (I am not so sure that it was a very desirable one)
was made good in that case too after much difficulty. But
the case was not so critical. For the quarrel was not with
the King, the Lords, or the Courts, but only with the
Warden of the Fleet ; and though it seemed more likely to
lead at the time to open violence, the consequences would
not have been so dangerous. However as Bacon took, at
one stage of it, an unusually prominent part (for he was
allowed to speak three times on the same question), we may
as well tell the story.

On the day of the King's solemn entry into London, Sir
Thomas Shirley, attending by command and being a
member of parliament, was arrested at the suit of a gold-
smith named Sympson, and sent to the Fleet. This Symp-
son is an old acquaintance,—" a man much noted for stout-
ness and extremities upon his purse,"— the same who five or
six years before arrested Bacon when he was (like Falstaff)
" upon hasty employment in the Queen's affairs." Indeed
it seems that this man had a pleasure in arresting his debtors,
not so much when he could most easily catch them, as when
the arrest would be most inconvenient to them and the dis-
grace most public. On that occasion, though he might
have arrested Bacon any day in London, he chose to do it
when he was engaged in the investigation of a newly-detected

272 EVEXTXGS WITH A PxEVIEWEB.

conspiracy to poison the Queen, and was returning from the
Tower. And on this occasion he had certainly obtained his
writ of execution against Sir Thomas Shirley six weeks
before ; and it was supposed (how truly I do not know) that
the serving of it had been forborne uutil this solemn day by
special understanding between him and the sergeant. At
any rate we must suppose that there was something unusual
in the proceeding, because both Sympson and the sergeant
were committed to prison for it by the Lord Cbancellor.
However the dispute did not turn upon that point. Sir
Thomas was a member, and the detention of a member from
the House was a breach of privilege. For this, as a con-
tempt, they forth witli committed Sympson and the sergeant
to the Tower, and ordered a warrant to be issued for pro-
ducing the body of Sir Thomas. But before they proceeded
further, (because they would not have the privilege abused
for the avoidance of just debts,) a bill was brought in for
securing to Sympson his interest in the debt and saving the
"Warden of the Fleet harmless. Bacon was indeed of opinion
that Sympson's interest in the debt would be good as the law
stood ; but other eminent lawyers were of another opinion,
and the point appearing to be doubtful, they resolved to
settle it by passing a special act for the purpose. This bill
was passed through both Houses ; and they were on the point
of moving the King to promise his assent to it, when it was
suggested that such a proceeding would be " some imjieach-
ment to the privilege of the House." And sure enough it
would. By going so far out of their way to ensure the
Warden, before they demanded tlie release of their member,
they would seem to admit by implication that they could
not legally demand liim without such assurance. The
caution was appvovo<l, and a ^\rit of lialcas corjjiis was
awarded for tlie bringing of Sir Thomas's body into the
House tlie next day. ]^)Ut the Warden refused to give him
up until tlie act for Ids security sliould Iiavc actually re-
ceived th(' royal assent. Upon tliis tliey committed him to
the Tower, and again sent tlie Sorgoant-at-anns for Sir
'j"]i(mnis's body. I'lit the AVarden's wife, wlio had all the

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER. 273

keys, would do notliing without her husband's authority ;
and the Sergeant, though armed with habeas corpus and
mace, could make no impression upon her. Meantime the
King had intimated his intention to assent to the bill, and
next day the Sergeant was sent again, armed as before, and
(privately informing ber of the King's promise) again
demanded Sir Thomas ; but she would act on no authority
but her husband's. He took her by the arm, but she
screamed. To go further was beyond his commission, and
so all three — Sergeant, habeas co7yus, and mace — came back
empty as before. Upon this, the Warden himself was
brought to the bar ; was formally acquainted with the
King's promise ; was reasoned with ; being found inexorable,
was ordered into closer confinement in a dungeon signili-
cantly called "Little Ease;"* and Avhen this produced
no effect, some members were sent to see whether the order
had been really complied with. They found (it seems)
that he had not been made uneasy enough ; and upon their
re2)ort to that effect a most distracted debate followed. One
would have the Lieutenant of the Tower fined lOOOZ. for not
executing the order. Another would have the Warden him-
self fined lOUZ. a day until he relented. A third was for
an act of parliament disabling him from all offices, &c. A
fourth would have the Lessee of the Fleet sent for, and get
at their member that way. A fifth proposed that six
members of the House sliould go with the Sergeant and
deliver Sir Thomas by force. A sixth would have the
House rise and strike work until they had power to execute
their privileges. And so the House seemed to be at a non-
plus,— every man giving an opinion, and no two opinions
alike, xill this time I do not find tliat Bacon had taken
any part whatever in the matter since he gave his opinion
upon the legal point, as before mentioned ; — I do not know
why, for he was on the Committee of Privileges to which it

* " A fourth kind of torture was a cell called ' Little Ease.' It was of so
small dimensions and so constructed that the prisoner could neither stand,
walk, sit, nor lie in it at full length. He was compelled to draw himself up
in a squatting posture, and so remain during several days.'' — Lingard, vol.
viii. p. 522.

VOL. I. 'i'

274 EVENINGS WITH A HE VI EWE 11.

had from the first been referred ; perhaps his hands were too
full of other business ; perhaps lie abstained from delicacy,
as being liable to a suspicion of personal bias on account of
his own former complaint against Sympson in a case so
nearly resembling the present ; — which is more likely ; but,
for whatever reason, it is certain that (with the above-
mentioned exception) his name does not appear as connected
with it till now. Now however the case was growing critical,
and he not only spoke, but spoke, as I have said, three
times. His advice was — not to send any of tlie'ir members
to assist the Sergeant in delivering Sir Thomas by force, —
for being judges they could not bo minister^;, — but to
petition the King to appoint some persons for that purpose.
And the debate ended in a rcsoluti(jn that the Sergeant
should be sent again with a new writ, that the AYardcn
should be carried to the door of the Fleet, that the writ
should tliere be delivered to him with commandment from
the House to obey it ; the A'ico-Chamberlain being at the
same time privately instructed to go to tlie King and
humbly desire that he would be jileased (as from himself)
to command the Warden upon his allegiance to set Sir
Thomas free. This measure at last succeeded ; they got
their member, and established tlieir privilege; and the
^Varden and other prisoners were in due time, after making
due submission, released; our friend Sympson having to pay
all the costs.

But J hope they passed the Act all the samn, to secure
Sympson his debt and to save the Warden harndcss.

J}.

O yes. they ufver had any scruple on tlud })oint. Jt \\as
only for the sals'*' ol' makijig good the point of privilege that
they procoedod \\itliout it. \\h]\ tlnit however Haco)i had
nothing to do. it was not till tlie L'liiiiiuous seemed to bo
in imminent daug'^r of golfing inlo a s'Tapf. in at(oni])1iiig
to vindicate their riglit wliicli was clearly c(.>uslitutional liy

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 2/5

means which were clearly not constitutional, tliat he inter-
fered in the business at all. In this case, as in the other, 1
believe the privilege was never afterwards called in question.

Then the House seems to have done tolerably well for
itself this session. But how for the country ? I do not
hear of any great matters accomplished in the way of reform.

No ; but some very great matters weighed anchor, and
by skilful piloting passed in safety through some hidden
shoals and rocks. The tender question of grievances, espe-
cially in matter of wardships, purveyors, trade, and ecclesi-
astical discipline, was opened, and so opened as to be
graciously entertained ; and though it is true that they, were
dropped and that nothing was effectually done in them, yet
at the end of the session tlicy were b}" no means where they
were at the beginning. Botli parties had had an oppor-
tunity of surveying their ground, and each understood
better how the other was to be dealt with. A good entrance
is half-way througli, and this no doubt they felt. Accord-
ingly the first movements in this delicate matter (which was
opened in the first week of the session) appear to have been
entrusted to tlie hands of Bacon ; for I find that the first
proceedings of their own committee wore reported by him
to the House; so was the first conference on the subject
with the Lords ; and the first petition to the King fwhich
related to tlie grievance of purveyors was presented by liim
with an introductory speech, — a true report of which for-
tunately remains to show how he discharged services of this
kind. The several heads of grievance were afterwards pro-
ceeded with separately and committed to several hands.
And they seem to have been proceeding prosperously
enough, at least not to liave met with any decided obstruc-
tion, until other accidents intervened wliicli wore out the
time and patience requisite for carrying them through, and
they were by general consent postponed to another session.

27G i:\'£XJXGS wrni a beviewer.

What kind of accidents ?

Many kinds. One obstruction after another in the settle-
ment of the Union ; — -a complaint against a yeoman of the
guard for refusing the Commons admittance to hear the
King's speech at the opening of Parliament, "which was only
satisfied by Ins speaking it over again for the sj^ecial benefit
of the Lower House ; — the dispute about the Goodwin case ;
— the troubles and delays about the Shirley case ; the press-
ino; of Church matters, which the Kino- had settlerl to his
own satisfaction at the Hampton Court conference just
before, and which brought the Commons into direct dis-
agreement with the Bishops ; — some disappointment in the
troublesome matter of supplies ; — all these had gradually
worn out the scanty measure of patience with which nature
had armed James, and ])rovoked him to make a speech
of remonstrance, wliich hurt the feelings of his faitliful
Commons and provoked them in their turn to draw up an
a'ldress of " satisfaction," as they called it — which (being in
fact a strong and decided justification of their conduct
point by point) must have a^ted, had it been presented, like
the stroking of a sore. Meanwhile matters were made worse
by the appearance of a pamphlet in whicli they were severely
taxed for meddling with causes they had no business witli ;
and ■which, turning out to be the production of a bisliop,
brought them into collision with tlio House of Lords. Then
tlie l^ords themsi'lves got into a dispute with tluun upon
some point in a money-lull. And the year was already
drawing towards the end of June, so that it was no fit time
for pressing the subject of grievances; and if they could
C(uitrive to })art friends, it was as much as could be hoped.

And had ]>acon to accommodate all these differences as
\\ell as the others?

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB. 277

In almost all of them his name becomes conspicuous in
the Journals as they become critical and require delicate
handling. The first two or three communications with the
Lords about the Bishop's pamphlet were managed by Sir
Henry Hobart ; but the last conference, in which the Bishop
received his censure and made his submission and the
quarrel was effectually made up, was managed by Bacon.
In the conference which ended in the adjustment of the
difference about the money-bill, it was Bacon who was chief
actor and relator. And with regard to the '"' Address of
Satisfaction " to the King, — though it may be true as Hume
asserts (apparently upon a misunderstanding of the title as
given in Petyt, where he found it) that he had a principal
hand in drawing it up, yet it is distinctly stated in the
Journals that he spoke against the presenting of it.

And so on the 7th of July the King and his first parlia-
ment parted on reasonably good terms, — each knowing more
of the other than they had done, though both had still
a good deal to learn. The country gentlemen went to their
counties, the King to hunt, and Bacon to his study, to take
a survey and a measure of all the questions which would fall
under the consideration of the Union Commissioners, who
were to meet in October ; — a business which must have
found him plenty of work for the rest of that year. This
commission was referred to by Bacon long after in his Essays
as a " grave and orderly assembly," in which " matters were
propounded one day and not spoken upon till the next ; "
and in an introductory paragraph which he had prepared at
the time to open the Commissioners' report with, he repre-
sented it as so blest with the spirit of unity, that " though
there was never in any consultation greater plainness and
liberty of speech, argument and debate, replying, contra-
dicting, recalling anything spoken where cause was, ex-
pounding any matter ambiguous or mistaken, and all other
points of free and friendly interlocution and conference,
without cavillations, advantages, or overtaldngs," — yet there

278 EVEXIXGS WITH A BEVJEWEn.

did not happen from their meeting to their breaking np
either any altercation in their debates or any variety in their
resolutions, but " the Avhole passed \vith a unanimity and
uniformity of consent." This, in a case Avhere thirty English-
men and tliirty Scotchmen were met to make a bargain, was
a good deal to say ; and thougli it seems to have been pre-
mature, since one of the Commissioners refused at the last
moment to sign the report, and the proposed introduction
was therefore withdrawn, I have no doubt that it represents
fairly the general character of the consultations. They con-
cluded their work on the 4th of December ; from which time
till the 5th of Xovember following Bacon had nothinir that
I know of (except the business of his profession) to prevent
him from pushing on the " Advancement of Learning," of
which he had not yet finished more than the first book, and
which I suppose him to be all this time extremely anxious
to bring out as soon as possible, while the King's heart was
still beating under the impulse and agitation of his new-
fortune, his imagination awake, his habits unfixed, his di-
rection not yet taken ; well knowing that if the royal fancy
should once set in towards other objects, he would not easily
find leisure for a work so great and so new as it was the
object of the " Advancement " to put him upon.

Suppose then we leave him to his studies for to-night ;
for it grows late, and we cannot leave him better em})loyed.

EVENING THE EIGHTH.

We left Bacon busy with the second book of the " Ad-
vancement of Learning ; " hurrying it forward, you say, in
the hope of awakening the King's interest in the argument,
and preoccupying his mind with an ambition to become the
great Instaurator of Philosophy.

Yes. I can hardly doubt that he had some such dream
in his head when he resolved to press it forward so fast as to
have it out by the end of the year. He had published no
part of it before ; and though his interest and industry
about it never cooled or slept, he published no more of it
for sixteen years after : so that his general plan must have
been to allow it the full period of gestation. But on this
occasion he was certainly in a hurry. There is a kind of
disproportion in the parts of the work itself which indicates
a somewhat premature birth. The first book, if you observe
it, — which he himself " accounted but as a page to the
latter," and which in reference to the main and permanent
object is of least importance, — is nevertheless very full and
elaborate ; while the second is in many parts professedly
unfinished. And accordingly we find that when he after-
wards corrected and enlarged it into the " De Augmentis,"
— (which is the completest in itself of all his philosophical
works), he added notliing to the first book, but rather

280 EVEXIXGS WITH A REVIEWER.

curtailed it ; v\hereas he expanded the second into eight,
making it more than twice as long as it was. And even
then it did not exactly fit into the place reserved for it ;
but in offering it for the first part of the " Instauratio," he
was obliged to guard it with a kind of apology. All this
indicates not only some haste in the ilrst instance, but also
some departure, with an eye (we may suppose) to some
immediate and temporary object, fiom the preligured course.
And this would be well enough accounted for on my sup-
position. AVhen he began the '•' Advancement," he was
thinking, as we have seen, to '• meddle as little as he could
^\\i\x the King's causes," and to " put his ambition wholly
upon his pen." He commenced therefore according to the
measure of the subject which he had taken in his mind ;
and his immediate aim being to awaken the King's interest
in it, he dwelt the more copiously upon tlie dignity and
merit of the undertaking, — which is the theme of the first
book. But before he could advance further he found him-
self involved in more business than ever; and foresaw, no
doubt, that from that time forth his intervals of leisure were
not likely to come often or last long. Such an interval,
however, did occur in the vacation of 1005, and it is then
that I suppose him to have resolved to make the most of it
by getting done what he could in so limited a time.

He was not long (I take itj in finding that the King was
not likely to be of much use to him.

rrol)ably not. The King does not seem to have had any
better ideas on that subject than the rest of the world. I do
not know that he ever took any serious interest in natural
philosoi)hy ; and his brains were busy with a hundred other
things. However tliat could not be helped. I'he chance
was worth trying at any rate ; for much would have been
gained by a hit, not much lost by a miss.

Ihit all this is only a sj)ecnlation of my own, upon which

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 281

I do not care to insist. If you think it strained, you can
leave it, and invent something of your own instead. This
will at all events remain true, that we left Bacon busy with
the "Advancement" in the beginning of 1605; and that
(except for his letter to the Lord Chancellor recommending
the appointment of some fit person to write a History of
England, — which is indeed only a leaf taken out of the
" Advancement " for immediate use,) we hear no more of
him till the end of that year, when we find him sending
copies of the book to his friends. And now we must leave
it to make what impression it may upon the King's fancy,
and follow Bacon into less congenial occupations.

If it did not make a good impression, it was not for want
of unction. Dedications, you will say, are privileged ; or
you must admit that he stretched a point there.

I should rather say that dedications are comjoliments.
They are meant to please, and they are restrained from
censure. Therefore they are, in their nature and of neces-
sity, partial ; they present the good, and not the bad. But
I do not myself allow that their privilege extends further.
I do not allow that a man ought, even in a dedication, to
say that he thinks what he does not think; but what he
thinks ivell he may speak out ; what he tliinks ill he may
keep to himself. Is there any liarm in that ? Is it not
the very thing which, under the name of fjood manners, is
universally practised throughout civilized society ? When
you meet with a man who tells everybody all that he
dislikes in them as well as all that he likes, what do you call
him, as soon as his back is turned ?

A bear. But you do not moan to say that Bacon really
thou2:ht all the irood he said of the Kniir in that dedication?

282 j-:v/:xJxos wttji a ni:viEWER.

Why not ? ^Vhat did he say that was not true '?

It was not true tliat James v.as a wise man.

JJ.

]\rany men have Lad a great reputation for wisdom and
mueli less to show for it. But Baeon did. not say that lie
\vas a wise man. He said that lie was a man of very large
capacity, very faithful memory, very swift apprehension,
very penetrating judgment, and great powers of elocution.
AVas he not ?

Oh, but he says far more than that. He says he was the
wisest man that ever was in Christendom.

I beg your pardon. The most learned man. Xay, not
oven the most learned man ; only the most learned " of
kings or temporal monarchs."

And tlie o:reatest divine.

V>.

Yes, among kings. Can you name any king tliat excelled
liim i]i learning, human or divine? But don't you see that
a man might possess all these gifts, natural and acquired,
and yet he very far from a v:ise king, in the sense in which
you use tlie word when you deny tliat -James was wise ?
IMany of our wisest and most learned men at this day would
attribute eveiy one of these (qualities to Coleridge ; Do
(^uincey calls him th(3 largest and most spacious intellect
since Aristotle ; and yet Coleridge would have nuide a very
indifferent king.

Besides, ^\hen you s})eak of James's character, you are

ErEXIXGS WITH A IIFA-IEWER. 283

tliiuking of the history of his wholo reign. Eemember that
Avhen Bacou wrote that dedication, James had not been
three years on the throne. His defects had not had time to
show themselves. Set aside all that happened after the
year 1G05, and then tell me what are the mental and moral
qualities in him of which you have any evidence — -even the
questionable evidence of libellers and satirists. You have
evidence that he was a great scholar, a man of deep and
various reading, of ready wit, of remarkably quick apprehen-
sion ; a very good writer and speaker ; with views decidedly
large and liberal, a strong sense of justice, a great desire to
please everybody, and a heart as transparent as if it had
been the crystal which he said he wished it was, Add, by
way of drawback, certain high notions of the royal preroga-
tive, an irritable temper, and a good deal of that self-import-
ance which a man cannot easily be without who was never
less than a king ; and I really believe you have all of his
character that, if Guy Fawkes had blown him up, would have
come down to us. Why then should I plead the privilege
of dedications ? You cannot doubt that James was a very
fit person to dedicate such a work to, even if you do not be-
lieve (as I do) that it was actually composed then and in that
shape because he icas so fit. And you surely would not have
had Bacon take that occasion to tell him in the face of the
world that his tongue was too large for his mouth, that he
shuflk'd in his walk, or that he was too fond of talking.
And as for those graver defects which prevented him from
taking rank with the truly great governors, I do n;it see how
Bacon could have told him of them if he would. They had
not been publicly displayed, and there is no reason to sup-
pose that either Bacon or any one else as yet suspected
tliem ; moreover, if you will consult what records remain of
the opinion of the people of that time, — (I do not mean what
people said to him in dedications or of him in public, but
what they said of him privately in their communications
with one another,) — you will find that Bacon ascribes no
more merits to him than were generally believed to be
his due.

284 EVEXIXGS WITH A BE VIEWER.

I will do that some other time. I did not mean to
charge the flattery npon Ixieon as any fanlt. I suppose
there is flattery '.vherevor there are what wo eall manners ;
and I do not know why it is worse to flitter a king tlian
a neighbour ; except that in one case you are supposed to
do it for reward, an<I in the other from humanity.

r..

"Whereas you do it in both cases alike, because it is
agreeable to be agreeable.

Well, now for the less congenial occupations. One of
these, I suppose, was the prosecution of Guy Fawkes.

I do not know. Bacon had to attend the indictments in
January, (though he did not take any part in the proceed-
ings,) and he was most likely employed in the previous
examinations, which are stated to have occupied the Govern-
ment for six 2nonths. But I have not yet ascertained any
of the particulars. In a letter to his friend Tobio 3[athew
who was tlien abroad, he encloses a "liclation" "which
carries (he says) the truth of tliat whiidi is pul)lic." 4diis
may very likely havr' been an account of the discoverv of
the plot ; but as I have ]iot nut with any traces of it or
any otlier allusi(jns t(_i it, 1 can sav no nau'c. Oidy if vou
happen to take up Mr, Jardine's historv of the ]>lot, and
find tlicrc soUK'tliing more about '•garbling" and about
]^>acon's metliod in drawing up narratives of state matters
for publi(; sat isfaci ion, r<'mond)(_'r our last interview with him
and be C'jisy. Thrro was a " Discourse of the manner of the
Discovei'y of the INnvdcr Treason," published bv authority at
the time, for tlie \<\'\ desii'able oliject of satisfying the
curiosity and fjuieting the alarm of tlu^ ]>ublic dui'ing the
interval (necessai'ily a long one) betwet'U the apprehensi(.)n

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEIL 285

of the traitors and their trial. This discourse Avas currently
ascribed to the King himself; and Mr. Jardine has two ideas
of his own about it : — first, that it is a false narrative, and
secondly, that it was probably drawn up by Bacon. Now
that it was a correct narrative any one may satisfy himself
by comparing it with Mr. Jardine's own statement, from
which it does not appear that it contains any one material
inaccuracy. And that it was not written by Bacon, any one
familiar witli Bacon's style may satisfy himself by reading
the first three pages. It may very likely have been founded
upon some narrative of his. But the dressing is evidently
the King's own workmanship ; and it was afterwards pub-
lished as his in an authorized edition of his works. Into
which works, by the way, if you would take the trouble to
look for an hour or two, I think you would find reason
to modify your contempt for King James and his reputed
wisdom. If you could put into the heads of those who
laugh at him a little of his wit, they would not laugh quite
so loud.

My dear fellow, you really must not ask me to begin the
study of King James's learned garrulities. I once tried one
of his speeches.

Ycry well ; then I sliall only ask you not to assume that
he was a fool until you have succeeded in reading one
through. You know Hume thought his speech on the
Union very nearly as good as Bacon's.

Be it so then. The terms I admit are fair, we will make
peace upon them. What next ?

Next comes James's second parliament, or rather the
second session of his first parliament. — -Yet stay. Since I
have avowed an opinion which most people will think ab-

286 £VEXJXGS WITH A nEVJLlVER.

surd, namely tlmt Bacon -^as ill-fitted to Avork his fortunes
np through a Court, I may as well tell you first that in
the autumn of this year another opportunity had occurred
for advancing him to the Solicitorship (the second, remem-
ber, since James's accession}, and no advantage had been
taken of it. In August, 1G05, Sir Edmund Anderson, Chief
Justice of the Common Pleas, died. This was a convenient
opportunity for advancing Sir Edward Coke to that oftic(\
and so making room for Jkiciui either as Attorney, if Dod-
deridgc were not advanced, or as Solicitor if he were. AVliy
this was not done I do not know ; but Coke remained where
he was, and on the 20th of August, Sir Francis Gawdy be-
came Chief Justice. 3[oreover, since Bacon has the popular
reputation of a mere sycophant and mendicant in his pursuit
of place, I may add that I find no traces of any application
whatever in his own behalf, either on this occasioji or the
last. The only allusion I find to this second disappointment
(if disappointnient it was) is in the letter to Tubie TJathew
which I quotod just now, and it is in these words; — " Tlio
death of the kite great judge concerned not me, because tlic
other was not removed," You may remembi'r also that, on
a previous occasion in Queen Elizabeth's time, when both
Essex and Egorton wanted to have liim made blaster of tlie
Rolls, he declined to make any ap})lication for inmsolf, Ali
which you may reconcile as you best can witli the charactiT
of an unblushing beggar for promotion, 31 y own b;dicf is
that his experionr'o i]i I'/J'.j, -i, and ."», had sickened him of
the character (if a suitor; and it is a fact tliat these ru'W re-
peated expcrieiK'es of the consequence of 'nol canvassing, and
of the i'allaey of tlie grouiid on wliicli, at .bimes's aceessjnn,
he had augured better for his own forlunes. — namely that
" th(' canvjissing worhl -was gone and tlie deserving woibl
was come," — these experiences, I say. (and this was ]iot tlie
last of them.) never tenqited him to resume that ejiaraeter ;
further tliaii by an occasional letter to his cousin the j^arl of
Salislmry, to his old and conslaiit friend the Loi^l Chaii-
C(dlor, and latterly to the E'ing himseli'; in I'enienibrance of
his services and of such assurances as {hoy had themselves

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 287

of their own accord held out to him. For what Lord Camp-
bell says about the " deep resentment " which he expressed
on being passed over, though it is stated as a fact, is a mere
invention ; a touch of what Lord Campbell felt to be nature,
introduced to give what he considered life to his narrative.
A few months after, there seems to have been a general ex-
pectation that room W'Ould be made for advancing Coke to
the Chief-Justiceship, by making Gaw^ly a Baron. And it
may have been on this occasion that Bacon reminded Salis-
bury that " in case j\Ir. Solicitor rose, he should be glad at
last to be Solicitor," but that he should make no further
suit. No change however was made till June, when Gawdy
died ; and then Coke did succeed him. Still no preferment
for Bacon. Another new man. Sergeant Hobart, came in
above him as Attorney ; and though the King had promised
that he should not be forgotten, and an arrangement was
soon after suggested by the Lord Chancellor to make room
for him in the Solicitorsliip by promoting Dodderidge to the
rank of King's sergeant, yet he was allowed to remain as ho
was, with nothing but his fee of £40 and his pension of £G0
for a full twelvemonth after. — You see therefore that rapid
as his rising sounds when the several steps are huddled to-
gether in a flowing sentence, he had in fact much more
reason to complain of James than ever he Imd of Elizabetli,
for " refusing him the jirofessional advancement to whicli he
had a just claim ; " much more reason to suspect some un-
friendly influence in high quarters, and to think himself
(all circumstances considered) a much-neglected man. All
which things I should hardly have thought it worth while to
mention, but that they are at once so unlike the man as ho
is commonly painted and so characteristic of the man as he
really was : nor do I mention them now to claim for hiiu
any merit of magnanimity in holding on his course of duty
all the same, but merely to discharge him from the popular
imputation of being, in his civil and personal character, a
mere follower of his own fortunes. You may possibly bo
able to reconcile the facts with that imputation, Imt I can-
not guess how, \yas it that h.e did not understand the arts

288 i:vENiNGs WITH a UEViEWEn.

of rising ? or was it that lie was too scrupulous to use them ?
or was it that advancement was not his principal object ? or
what was it ?

How do you know that he did not write other canvassing
letters, or make personal canvasses, which you are not aware
of?

Kay, if you appeal to unknown possibilities of that kind,
how do you know that anybody is not a villain ? It is the
business of those who make the charge to produce the evi-
dence. I have much reason to think that I know all the
evidence to that effect which is known. And I only wish
you could tell me of any place where such letters or such
records are likely to be found. I am conflilont that they
will accord with my view of his character, and not with the
popular one.

AVell, I certainly cannot help you to any myself. And
I must confess that after reading tlie chapter in the "Ad-
vancement " on the art of raising a man's own fortunes, it is
hard to think that he did not understand the theory ; and
after seeing how well he kept his standing in the favour of
so many opposing parties, it is as hard to think that he
■wanted address \o practise it. It docs seem to follow there-
fore either that lie was unwilling to use the neces-ary meaiis,
or that he had other ends in view. However, I do not feel
bound to d(.'cide tlio question at ])rcsent. Therefore move
on. You have a good deal to explain yet.

By all means. Oidy roniendjcr that lie is now in his
forty-sixth year, and still bears a good character.

I am not aware that anv cliar<re has been brouirht acainst
liim for anything that he did during tin; parliament which
met on the 21st of .January, lGij3-(!, unless J must except his

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 289

marrying the alderman's daughter, an act which has not
escaped injurious remarks. Indeed I do not find that any-
tliiug occurred in it to try him. It was upon the wliole a
loyal parliament. The Gunpowder Plot had effectually
awakened the sympathy of the Commons. The bill of At-
tainders passed with general consent. The Union was in
abeyance. Grievances were handled tenderly, and supplies
were voted liberally. Bacon's services were used in the
same way as before ; and when the parliament was prorogued
on the 2'Jth of 3[ay, he seems to have stood as well as ever
in the favour both of the Commons and the King.

Of his employment during the following vacation I
cannot give any particular account. The wedding tour was
not, I believe, at that time an English institution. If it was,
it had to wait on this occasion for the prorogation ; for the
Avedding itself had taken place on tlie 10th of 3ray. in the
thick of the Parliamentary business, and at a rather critical
time, when it was to be contrived that an answer should be
obtained to the petition of grievances before the Subsidy
Bill was finally passed. The duties of tlie hni;eymoon miy
have employed part of the vacation, and if you will look
through the " Opuscula " and the " Impetus Philosophic! "
(most of which were probably written between 1606 and
1612), you will find enough in them to account for the rest.
The " C^ogitata et Visa " we know was in circulation among
his friends before the end of 1607. As for his marriage, and
for any criticisms whicli the cliarity of modern biograpliers
and reviewers may have made upon his choice of a wife and
'his moiives in choosing her, you are to understand that all
we know of the matter is this : — that in his forty-sixth year
he married a handsome young woman with a good fortune,*
whose father was an alderman, and her mother (I believe) a
shrew ; that he lived with her for twenty years without any
disagreement or scandal that we know of; that a few months
before his death (when reputation, fortune, liealtli, — every-

* It appears from a manuscript preserved in Tenison's Library, tliat he
had abotit £220 a year with her, and was to have about £110 a year more
upon her mother's death.

VOL. I. U

290 FVEXTXGS WITH A REVIEWER.

thing in short but his lioart, his liopp, his gouiiis, and a few
faithful friends, luid forsaken him) he made or desired to
make for her out of the wreck of his fortunes a special and
honourable provision ; but afterwards " for just and great
causes," the nature of which he does not specify, retracted it
and " left her to her right only ; " and tliat she not long
after his death married her gentleman-usher, (who, scandal
says, was no better for the bargain,) lived for twenty-four
years longer, and was buried at Eyworth in Bedfordshire on
the 29th of June, 1650. If any one chooses upon these
grounds to assume that his marriage was a mercenary and
disgraceful act, I cannot help it. i can throw no further
light either upon his motives in choosing her, or upon the
occasion of his displeasure. I know well enough what to
think of the judgment and moral taste of those who under-
take upon these data to condemn him ; but to determine the
merits of a domestic disagreement two hundred years old,
of which I know no particulars whatever, is beyond me.

I shall not press that point.

Well then.— On the 10th of November, 1G01, parliament
met again, and continued with one or two short intermissions
till July. It was a very busy session, tliougli it pnjduced
very little. The main and almost the only subject wliich
occupied it was the Union ; and the o1.)ject of the Govern-
ment was to carry a measure, or rather a series of me;isures,
founded upon tlie report of tlie commissioners. Tliat report
(or instrument, as it was called) liad been completed, as you
may remember, in December KJOl; and had it been adopted
and acted upon, would liave laid a broad foundation for a
solid and jiermancut T'nion between England and Scotland.
\i would have provided, iirst, for the abolition of all traces
i){ hostility between the two c<iuiitries ; secondly, for the
introduction of such a eonsi-nt between their several laws as
would have })reve]ited tlie course of justice jrom being broken
in its passage from one to the other ; thirdly, for complete

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEB. 291

freedom of internal trade ; fourthly, in matters of foreign
commerce, for an equal participation by both in all advan-
tages enjoyed by either ; fifthly, for a free admission of the
2wst nati (that is, of all Scottish subjects born since the
King's accession) to all rights and privileges of English
subjects without reserve ; sixthly, for an admission of the
ante nati (that is, of all Scottish sul)jects born before the
King's accession) to the like privileges ; excepting only
offices of the Crown, of judicature, or of parliament. In
short, (leaving their several laws and forms of constitution
for the present unaltered,) it would have abolished at once
and for ever all traces of hostility, all marks of separation
and distinction, and whatever else either impeded intercourse
or rendered it une(puil. And no doubt if such a foundation
had been timely laid, all the rest would have followed in
due season.

In practically carrying out these objects, there were of
course many just doubts and substantial difficulties to be en-
countered. But the worst difficulty of all was an inward
jealousy which got into the heads of the popular party in
tlie House of Commons, lest the Scotcli should have the best
of the bargain ; which jealousy, working in the brains of
lawyers, begot sucli a brood of objections and obstructions,
that tliey could not agree upon so much as a general measure
for naturalizing even tlie post nati. This was the subject of
that Conference between the Lords and Commons, in the
reporting of which (on the 2nd and 3rd of j\Iarch, 1606-7)
Bacon's health, as I told you, broke down ; after which for
about a month I do not iind his name mentioned in the
Journals. The business fell into otiier hands, and dnigo-ed
on with little progress, until (just before the Easter recess)
some one either out of unwise zeal, or (as the King seems to
have thouglit) out of miscliicf, endeavoured to put it in a
new track, by substituting for tJie easy and simple measure
of a general naturalization, a project at once premature and
hopeless for a perfect Union. Upon the first suggestion of
this, Bacon again took })ai"t in the debate ; and in that
" speech on the motion for Union of Laws " of which he has

202 FVEXTXaS with a REVJEWEn.

himself preserved a report, endeavoured to guide the ques-
tion off tliat slioaL His endeavour, however, was not
sueeessful. Tlie project for a perfect Union was revived
after the recess ; and after wasting much time and breath,
was at length by common consent abandoned. Tlie measui'o
for general naturalization sank with it; and an act for tho
abolition of hostile laws — that is, of the laws wliich had
been expressly made for a state of hostility between tlie two
nations — was all that could be saved from the wreck. And
so ended the labour of those eight months.

Bacon being still unprcferred ?

No. He was made Solicitor-General at last, just before
the parliament was i^rorogued ; being half-way through bis
forty-seventh year,

Had he to pay anything for it?

No ; he never in all his life, so for as I can discover,
either })aid or offered to pay anything for any oftice. Indeed
I do not tliink that he was ever even suspected of eitlicr
buving promotion for liimself or selling it to others. And
this is a fact which ought not to l)e jbrgotten ; iui- this buy-
ing of offices, pnlicial oflices too, became aft(n'\\ards — whether
it was at tliis lime (tr not I do not know-but it becanu!
afterwards very cummon, and indeed, in my juilginent, tln^
greatest of all the abuses of llie times.

And now we e(»]ne to another interval of comjiarative
liMSure for him. I''or jiarlianieiit did not meet again for soiiu^
two years and a half; and though his plare and his profes-
sion must have eonsunie<l miieli ol' his time, hi' does not seem
to have oeciijiied liini^eif dtltei'wise in pnblic affairs. Salis-
lairy had the maiiag<'ment of everything; and though he
treated JJacon (for anything that appears) in a frank and

EVENINGS WITH A RE VIE WEB. 293

friendly manner, he was evidently unwilling to use him out
of the circle of his office. "Which is a strange thing. For
Salisbury had no easy sailing of it. He could not have
doubted Bacon's ability to help ; he would certainly have
found him willing to lend both his best advice and his best
industry ; he could hardly have feared to be overshadowed
by him, for Bacon had never shown any disposition to thrust
people out of their places, or to use their help in order to
step over their heads. He may indeed have feared that he
would draw men's eyes away from himself, and for that
reason may have wished to keep him in a subordinate
position ; for that " he loved to have the eyes of all Israel a
little too much on himself" was Bacon's own censure of
him, and no doubt a just one. And yet I am myself inclined
to ascribe it rather to a consciousness in Salisbury of certain
radical and fundamental diflY'rences b; 'tween tliem, both as to
ends and methods of proceeding. That Bacon did deeply
disapprove of Salisbury's whole course of policy during the
last two or three years of his life, we know ; and, whether he
expressed it or not at the time, Salisbury no doubt felt that
it must be so. In.leed there is a remarkable passage in one
of Bacon's letters to him, written several years before, from
which we may infer not only that he had long observed
certain cardinal defects in his statesmanship, but also that
he had not been used to make any secret of his observation.
You remember that paper of advice about Irish affairs in the
beginning of 1602, of which I gave you an account at our
last sitting. You remember that he recommended the
subject to him as one by which he miglit do great good and
gain great honour. But I think I did not mention the
})articular points in which he conceived that Salisbury might
raise his reputation as a statesman by it. Tlie expressions
are worth quoting, for they contain by implication the best
judgment upon his character as a minister which I have met
A\ ith : —

" If you enter into the nifitter (>ays I'acon ) according to the
vivacity of your own spirit . . . yon sliall make tLe (Queen's
f(jlifity cuniplcte, wliieh now a^ it is i.s incomparable; — and fur

204 EVEXIXOS WITH A nF.VTEWEn.

yoiirself you sTiall show yourself as good a patriot as yon are
thouglit ?L pdlt'ic ; and make the world perceive that you have
not less generous ends, than dexterous deliveri/ of yourself towards
youi' ends ; and that you have as well true arts and grounds of
government, as the facility and felicity of practice and negotiation ;
and that you are as well seen in tlie pjcriods and tides of estates, as
in your oivn circle and way."

The criticism, yon see, is civilly eonvcyod, but it clearly
implies an opinion that Salisbury wanted both sounder
principles of ,2,'overument and wortliier ends. Being addrossed
to Salisbury himself (then only Sir Hobert Cecil) at a time
when there was no other man in power or in prospect of
power with whom he had any interest, it cannot have been
meant for detraction. And being accompanied with the best
possible piece of advice, it may be fairly taken for what it
professes to be, — the friendly suggestion of a kinsman, meant
to do good, and therefore the plainer spoken ; — another
example of that " natural freedom and plainness " wliich
Essex had remarked as characteristic of the man. Xow
Salisbury (if I conceive his cliaracter truly, for it is not very
easy to make out) was very likely to receive such a criticism
without any show of offence, but was not at all likely to
forget it, or to admit such a critic into his counsels and con-
fidence. Indeed if one may trust the censures which men of
all kinds are said to have passed upon him after his death,
wlien they were not afraid to speak out, tlierc is too mucli
reason to think that his \\a}"s were not sucli as he would
have liked to expose to an eye like JJaeon's. "Certain it
is," says 31r. Chamberlain, (a vei'v impartial, well-infoinied,
and clear-judging (jbserver, — writing to a private friend
about two niDuths alter his death,) '"that they who may b<'st
iii;iintain it have not lorboi'ue to say that he juggle(l with
lieligion, with the l\ing, (^ueen, their childi'en, — with
nobility, })arli;mie2it, friends, ibes, and generally \vith all."
And even if we reject these imj>utations as vague and uii-
.iiiriie'iitie, there were certain main })oiiits of his later policv
whi(di ilacon so strongly <lisa[)iti'o\"ed tliat the two nicneould
ne\er ha\e wi.aked huruioniousl v toii'ether. x\.t anv rate tlio

EVFNIXOS WITH A REVIEWER. 2Pa

fact is undeniable that Salisbury did choose for his instru-
ments men of a very different stamp. A large collection of
his papers during the reign of James is preserved in the
State Paper office, including several letters addressed to
him by Bacon. But these are all about matters falling
directly within the duty of Solicitor-General, — such as
draughts of proclamations, bills in parliament, reports on
patents to be drawn or on petitions, &c. There are no traces
either there or elsewhere of any employment of him by
Salisbury in business of a higher nature; no confidential
consultations ; no memorials or advices on business of state,
such as he abounded with after Salisbury's death. The other
letters which we have belonging to the first two or three
years of his Solicitorship (and they are not many) relate
almost all to the progress of the Instauratio. We have also
various essays and fragments printed under the head of
Opuscula. Of these,— (though neither the date nor the
order in which they were composed can be fixed I fear in
many cases with exactness) — yet enough may be ascertained
as to the time when some of them were written, to show not
only that he was busily employed upon them at this period,
but also that the figure, purpose, and idea of the total work
were already shaped out in his mind ; and tliat his chief
anxiety was to bring it before the world m such a manner as
to secure for it a favourable audience. To us who are used
to regard Bacon as the acknowledged leader of a philo-
sophical revolution, — a kind of dictator for whose words the
world was waiting, — it is cuiious to observe in how different
a position he seemed to himself to stand; what inattention,
incredulity, and opposition he anticipated ; what pains he
took to obtain access to men's ears and understandings ;
with what obsequious attentions * and courtly arts he
studied to propitiate the learned public, and to avoid rough
collision with the prejudices of the times, —

" Yea curb and woo for leave to do them good ; "

* Atquf, qnoil ill inliUertualiliHi' f< r" rea nova ent, rivirem gerimuK, ef tarn
nostras corjitaHoiies qnaui uUvrmii sinnd hujxdamus. Oiiuieinim idoJum 'vanuia
ai'le, alqiie obseqiUu, ac dcbita acec^au "uhoriilur, etc.

206 EVEXJNGS WITH A BE VIE TV En.

by how many handles he seems to have tried in turn to take
lip his suliject ; into how many different shapes lie had cast
the substance of that portion of the argument which lie lived
to complete, before lie tinally iixed upon that in which we
have it ; what broad and deep foundations he had laid for
those portions which he did not live to complete, and wliat
a world of labour and time he must have sunk in tliem.

Yes, I dare say. But before you go on I \^■isll you would
satisiy me on one point, upon which I have hitherto souglit
satisfaction in vain. What after all was it that Bacon did
for philosophy ? In what did the wonder and in what did
the benefit consist ? I know that people have all agreed
to call him the Father of the Inductive Philosophy ; and I
know that the sciences made a great start about his time,
and have in some departments made gi'eat progress since.
But I could never yet hear what one thing he discovered
that would not have been discovered just as soon without
liis help. It is admitted that he was not fortunate in any
of his attempts to apply his princi[)les to practice. It is
admitted that no actual scientific discovery of importance
was made by him. ^Yell, he might be the father of dis-
covery for all that. But among all the important scieutiiic
discoveries which have been made by others since his time,
is there any one that can be traced to his teacliing ? traced
to ;iny principles of scientific investigation originally laid
down by him, and by no other man before him or contem-
]ioiary with him ? I know vei'y wvW tliat he did lav down
a great many just principles;- — principles which must havci
lieen acted ujion by every man that ever pursued the study
of Nature \\\t]\ success. But what of that? It does not
Jollow tliat we o/'v- tliese principles to hiju. For I liave no
doul)t tliat I niyseli', — I wlio cannot tell how we laiow that
the f'artli go(-s I'ouiid, or why an ajiple falls, oi' whv the
aiiti])odes do not I'all, — I have uo d<in])t (I say) that il' I sat
d<iwii to devise a coui'se of investigation for the deteniiina-
lioii of these 'juestioiis, J should discover;! gi-eat nian\ jii.st

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER 297

principles which Herschel and Faraday must hereafter act
upon, as they have done heretofore. Nay, if I shouhl
succeed in setting- thorn forth more exactly, concisely, im-
pressively, and memorably, than any one has yet done, they
might soon come to be called mij principles. But if that
were all, I should have done little or nothing for the
advancement of science. I should only have been finding
for some of its processes a better name. I want to know
whether Bacon did anything more than this ; and if so,
what? In what did the principles laid down by him
essentially differ from those on which (while he was thus
labouring to expound them) Galileo was already acting ?
From all that I can hear, it seems evident that the In-
ductive Philosophy received its great impulse, not from
the great prophet of new principles, but from the great
discoverers of new facts ; not from Bacon, but from Galileo
and Kepler. And I suppose that, even with regard to those
very principles, if you wanted illustrations of what is
commonly called the Baconian method, you would find
some of the very best among the works of Gilbert and
Galileo, AVhat was it then that Bacon did which entitles
him to be called the liegenerator of Philosophy? or what
^\■as it that he dreamt he was doing ^\hich made him think
the work so entirely his own, so immeasurably important,
and likely to be received with such incredulity by at least
one generation of mankind ?

A pertinent question ; for there is no doubt tliat he was
under that impression. "Cum argnnicntum Jiujnsniodi p^'w
inanihus lutbeam (says he) quod tradandi imperitid perdere et
vdutl exponere nefas sit,''' — Ho was persuaded that the
argument he had in charg(} was of such value, that to risk
the loss of it by unskilful handling would be not only a
pity but an impiety. You wish to know, and the wish is
reasonable, what it was. F(jr answer, I would refer you to
the philosoplicrs ; only I cannot say that their ans^wers are
satisfactory to myself. The old answer was that Bacon was

298 EVEXixas with a SEviEWEn.

tlie first to break down the dominion of Aristotle. This is
now, I think, generally given up. His opposition to Aris-
totle was indeed conceived in early youth, and (thougli he
was not the first to give utterance to it) I dare say it was
not the less his own, and, in the proper sense of the w-ord,
original. But the real overthrower of Aristotle was the
great stir throughout the intellectual world which followed
the Reformation and the revival of learning. It is certain
that his authority had been openly defied some years
before the publication of Bacon's principal writings ; and
it could not in the nature of things have survived much
longer. Sir John Ilerschel, however, while he freely admits
that the Aristotelian philosophy had been eflectually over-
turned without Bacon's aid, still maintains Bacon's title to
be looked upon in all future ages as the great Reformer of
Philosophy ; not indeed that he introdneed inductive reason-
ing, as a new and untried process ; but on account of his
"keen perception and his broad and spirit-stirring, almost
enthusiastic, announcement of its paramount importance,
as the alplia and omega of science, as the grand and only
chain for linking together of pliysical truths, and the
eventual key to every discovery and every application."

That is all very fine ; but it seems to me rather to
account for liis having tlio title tlian to justify his claim to
it; — rather to exjdain how \\o comes by his reputation than
to prove that lie deserves it. iVy the question upon a
modern case. A\'e are now standing upon the tlireshold
of a new a-j-a in the science of History. It is easy to see
that the universal study of History must be begun afresli
upon a new metliod. Tales, trad'tioiis, and all that has
liitherto been accounted most authentic in our knowledge
of past times, must be set aside as doubtful ; and the whole
story must be s])elt out anew from charters, names, inscrip-
tions, monuments, and such lilce contemporary records.
Xow an eloipient man might easilv makcj a broad ami
sjiirit-stii'riiig aimoiincetneiit ol' tlu' [)aiamount iiiijtoi'taiice

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 299

of this process, as the only key by which the past can bo
Liid open to us as it really was, — the grand and only chain
for linking historical truths and so forth. But would ho
thereby entitle himself to be called the great reformer of
History ? Surely not. Such a man might perhaps get the
credit, but it is Niebuhr that has done the thing : for
Niebuhr was the first both to see the truth and to set the
example.

So, I confess, it seems to me. And if I thought that
Bacon had aimed at no more than that, I should not think
that his time had been altogether well employed, or that liis
sense of the importance of his own mission to mankind was
altogether justified. For surely a single great discovery
made by means of the inductive process would have done
more to persuade mankind of the paramount importance
of it, than the most eloquent and philosophical exposition.
Therefore in forsaking his experiments about gravitation,
light, heat, &c., in order to set forth his classification of the
" Prerogatives of Instances," and to lay down general
principles of philosophy, he would have been leaving the
effectual promotion of his work to secure the exaltation
of his name, than which nothing could be more opposite
both to his principles and his practice. If his ambition had
been only to have liis picture stand as the frontispiece of
the new philosophy, he could not have done better indeed
than come forward as the most eloquent expounder of its
principles. But if he wanted (as undoubtedly he did above
all other things) to set it to work and bring it into fashion,
his business was to produce the most striking illustration of
its powers, — the most striking practical proof of what it
could do.

I'herefore if I thought, as Ilerschel seems to think, that
tliere was no essential or considerable difference between
the doctrines which Bacon preached and those which Galileo
practised ;— that Galileo was as the Niebuhr of the new
[)hilo,sophy (according to your own illustration), an«l BacoJi

300 EVEXixas WITH a ee viewer.

only as your supposed eloquent man ; — I should ap:i'ee with
you that Bacon's riglit to be called the Rcfonnor of Philo-
sophy is not made out. But when I come to look at Bacon's
own exposition of his views and compare them with the
latest and most approved account I have met with of
(lialileo's works, I cannot but think that tlie difterence
between what Galileo was doing and what JJacon wanted
to be done is not only essential but immense.

Nay, if the difference be immense, liow comes it to be
overlooked ? It is from no want of the wisli to claim for
Bacon all the credit he deserves in that line.

Xo. Bather perliaps from tlie wish to claim too much.
AVe are so anxious to give him his due tliat we must needs
ascribe to him all that has been done since his time ; from
wliich it seems to follow tliat wo are practising liis })rcce}>ts,
and tliat the Ijaconian }>hilosophy has in fact been flourish-
ing among us for the last 200 years. You believe this, don't
you ?

People tell me so ; and I suppose tlie only doubt is
Mlielher it be exclusively and originally his ; — there is no
duubt, I fancy, that it /a his.

Certainly tliat appears to be the general opinion ; and it
]nay seem an audacious thing in me to say that it is a mis-
take. Ihit I cannot help it. It is true that a new piiilosophy
is flourishing among us which was lioni about Jjacoii's time;
and Paeon's nani'' (as the biightesl wliieh pi'esided at the
time of its bii'tlij has been insei'ified upon it.

" Iloprni^;. tli;,t l.-a

'J'Ik; .~l,-il'j'y licsl, y<n\r hi i,L;-litcst "

U"! tliat Hesperus did actually h((ij tlie ethei' stai's ; he and
tlc'V \\ere iuo\inL:" undei' a common ^<i\:rcj aiid thev would

EVENINGS WITH A liEVIEWEB. 301

liare moved just as fost if he had been a^yay ; but because he
slioiie briglitest, he lool-ed as if he led them. But if I am to
trust Herschel, I must think that it is the Galilean phik^-
sophy that has been flourisliing- all these years ; and if I may
trust my own eyes and power of construing Latin, I must
think that the Baconian philosophy has yet to come.

If Bacon were to reappear among us at the next meeting
of the Great British Association, — or say rather if he had ap-
peared there two or three years ago (for there seems to bo
something great and new going on now), I think he wouhl
have shaken his head. I think he would have said, " Hero
has been a great deal of very good diligence used by several
persons ; but it has not been used upon a well-laid plan.
These solar systems, and steam-engines, and Daguerreotypes,
and electric telegraphs, are so many more pledges of what
might be expected from an instauration of phiksophy such
as I recommended more than 200 years ago ; why have you
not tried that ? — You have been acting all the time like a
king who should attempt to conquer a country by encourag-
ing private adventurers to make incursions each on his own
account, without any system of combined movements to
subdue and take possession, I see that wherever you have
the proper materials and plenty of them your work is excel-
lent ; so was Gilbert's in my time ; so was Galileo's ; nay
even Kepler — (though his method was as unskilful as that of
the boy who in doing a long-division sum would first guess
at the quotient and then multiply it into the divisor to see
whether it were true ; and if it came out wrong, would make
another guess and multiply again ; and so on till he guessed
right at last ;) — because he had a copious collection of
materials ready to his hand, and enormous perseverance
however perversely applied, and a religious veracity, — did
at last hit upon one of the greatest discoveries ever made
bv one man. But what could Kepler have done without
Tvcho Brake's tables uf observation ? And what might
Galileo not kave done if lie had had a large enougli col-
lection of facts ? I'his therefore it is that disappoints me.
I do not see any sufficient collection made of materials, —

302 EVEyiXGS WITH A nEVTEWFJl.

that is, of facts in nature — or any effectual plan on foot
for making one. You are scarcely better oif in tliat respect
than I was ; you have each to gather the materials upun
which you are to work. You cannot build houses, or weave
shirts, or learn languages so. If the builder had to make
his own bricks, the weaver to grow his own flax, the student
of a dead language to make his own concordance, where
would be your houses, your shirts, or your scholars ? And
by the same rule if the inter])reter of Nature is to forage fir
his facts, what progress can you expect in the art of inter-
pretation ? Your scholar has his dictionary provided to his
hand ; but your natural philosopher has still to make his
dictionary for himself.

" And I wonder tlie more at this, because this is the very
thing of all others which I myself pointed out as absolutely
necessary to be supplied, — as the thing which was to be set
about in the first place, — the thing vdtliout which no great
things could possibly be done in philosophy. And since
you have done me the honour to tliink so very higldy of tho
value of my precepts, 1 am a little surj)rised that you have
not thought it worth while in so very essential a point to
follow^ them. And to say the truth, I could wish for my
own reputation (if that were of any C('nsequence) that you
had either honoured me a little more in that way, or not
honoured me quite so much in other ways. You call mo
the Father of your Philosopliy, meaning it for tlie greatest
compliment you can pay. I thank you for tlie compliment,
but I must (Uicline the implied responsibility. I assure you
this is none of mine.— ^lay I ask whetlier any attempt lias
been made to collect tliat " llidoriam naturaleni ct e.nperi-
niientalem qnie sit in online ad conJtndam jjhilosojihiant,'' con-
cerning whicli I did certainly give soiue very jiarticuhir
directions ; — which 1 i)]aced as conspieuouslv as J couhl in
tlie very front and enlr.mce of niy design; — of whieli 1 said
that all th(! genius and meilitulinn an<l argumentation in
the world could not do instead of it, no not if all ]iicn's
wits couM meet in one man's li ad; llicrefore that this
we must have, or else the business mu,>t be for ever given

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB. 303

up ? * — If this has been fairly tried and found impracticablo
or ineffectual, blot me out of your books as a dreamer tliat
thought he had found out a great thing but it turned out
notliing. If not, I still think it would be worth your while
to try it."

I partly comprehend your meaning ! but I should prefer
it in a less dramatic form. You tliink that the difference
between what Galileo did and what Bacon wanted to be
done, lay in this — that Bacon's plan presupposed a history
(or dictionary as you call it) of Universal Nature, as a store-
house of facts to work upon ; whereas Galileo was content to
work upon such facts and observations as he collected for
himself. But surely this is only a difference in degree.
Both used the facts in the same way, only Bacon wanted a
larger collection of them.

Say rather, Bacon wanted a collection large enough to
give him the command of all the avenues to the secrets
of Nature. You might as well say that there is only a
difference of degree between the method of the man who
runs his simple head against a fortress and the man who
raises a force strong enough to storm it, — because each uses
the force he has in the same way, only one wants more of it
than the other : — or between stopping all tlie leaks in a
vessel and stopping as many as you conveniently can. The
truth is, that though the difference between a few and a few
more is only a difference of degree, the difference between
enougli and not enough is a difference in kind. According to
Galileo's method, the work at best could be done but
partially. According to Bacon's (so at least he believed) it
would be done effectually and altogether.

I will put you a case by way of illustration. Two men

* Neque liuic labor i et inquisitinni et nuoidanw peramhuhitioni^itlla ingenii
aut meditationis aut argmnentalionis subditutio aid compeuxatio gujjicere jjofcsf ,
non si omnia omnium ingenia coicrint. Itaque aut Jcoc pwrnus habtndum aut
negotium in peiyetuum deserendum.

304 FVEXixns WITH a r.r.viEWF.n.

(call them James and John) find a manuscript in a chavactor
unknown to either of them. James, lieiiii^; skiHed in ]au-
gnages and expert in making out riddles, observes some
characters similar to those of one of tlie languages whicli lie
understands ; immediately sets himself to guess what they
are ; and succeeds in puzzling out here a name, and thi're
a date, with plausibility. Ea<'h succeeding guess, if it be
right, makes the next the easier; and there is no knowing
precisely how much may be made out in this manner, or
Avith what degree of certainty. The process is inductive,
and the results, so far as they go, are discoveries. John
seeing him tlius employed comes up and says, "This is all
very ingenious and clever, and far more tlian I could do by
tlie same process. But you are not going tlie right way to
Avork. You will never be able to decipher the manuscript in
this way. I will tell yai what we must do. Here (you sre)
are certain forms of character which continually I'ocur. lien)
is one that comes more than once in every line; hei'o another
tliat comes once in every two or three lines ; a third that
comes only twice or thrice in a page ; and so on. Let us
have a list made of these several forms, with an index show-
ing where and Ikjw often they occur. In tlie mean time
I will undertake, upon a consideration of the general laws
of language, to t(dl you, by the comparative fre(|uency of
their recurrence, what parts of speech most of these are,
So we shall know which of them are articles, which eon-
junctions, which relatives, whi('h auxiliai'ies, and so on.
Setting these a})art, we sliall l)e better abh- to deal with
the nouns and verbs ; and tln'n by comparing the })assage.s
in which each oecui^j we shall be able, with th<' help of
your language-learning", to mak'e out the meaning fii'st of
one, then of another. As each is iletennine(l, the rest will
be easier to de'tca'ininr' ; and bv degi'ees we shall come to
know theMi all. It is a slow process compai-ed with vours,
and will take time jiial labour and manv i-.an<ls. jliit when

it is done we shall be able to i'ca<l the whole book'."

Here I think you lia\e a ]iicture in lilth- of \\\o (lil't'crence
between Inicen's jiroject lor the' aiKancenient i.if philosophv

EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWER. 305

and that which was carried into effect (certainly with re-
markable success) by the new school of inductive science
Avhich flourished in his time. If we want to pursue the
parallel further, we have only to suppose that John, after
completing in a masterly manner a great portion of his
work on the universal laws of language ; after giving par-
ticular directions for the collection, arrangement, and classi-
fication of the index ; and even doing several pages of it
himself by way of example ; is called away, and obliged to
leave the completion of the work to his successors ; and
that his successors (wanting diligence to finish, patience to
wait, or ability to execute,) immediately fall back to the
former method ; — in which they make such progress and
take such pride, that they never think of following out
John's plan, but leave it exactly where he left it. And here
I think you have a true picture of the state in which the
matter now rests.

I see. The manuscript is the volume of Nature. The
learned linguist and expert maker-out of puzzles is Galileo
or one of his school. The work on the la\\s of language
is the Novum Organum. The index is the Natural and
Experimental History quce sit in ordine ad condendam
Fhilosophiam. The making-out of the words one by one is
the Interpretation of Nature —

And the ultimate reading of the whole book is the
" Historia Uluminata sive Veritas Reriim ; " the " Philosophia
Secunda ; " the sixth and last part of the " Instauration ; "
the consummation which Bacon knew that he was not to
be permitted himself to see, but trusted that (if men were
true to themselves) the Fortune of the Human Kace would
one day achieve.

And you think that they have not been true to them-
selves ?

VOL. I. X

306 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER.

Why what jiave they done with this work since he left
it ? There it lies to speak for itself, sticking- in the middle
of the Novum Orgauum. No attempt has been made, that
I can hear of, to carry it out further. People seem hardly
to know that it is not complete. John ]Mill observes that
Bacon's method of inductive logic is defective ; but does
not advert to the fact that of ten separate processes which
it was designed to include, the first only has been explained.
The other nine he had in his head, but did not live to set
down more of them than the names. And the particular
example which he has left of an inductive inquiry does not
profess to be carried beyond the first stage of generalization,
— the vindemiatio p-ima, as he calls it.

It may be so ; but why have they not attempted to carry
his process out further ? Is it not because they have found
that they can get on faster with their old tools ?

Because they tliinli they can get on faster; you cannot
say they \\a\c found it until they have tried.

Have they not tried Bacon's way partially, and found it
not so handy? Has not Sir John Ilerschcl, for instance,
tried the use of his famous classification of Instances, and
pronounced it " more apparent than real " ? And is it not a
fact that no singUj discov<'ry of inij)ortance has been actually
made by proceeding according to the m(;thod recommended
by Bacon ? I am sure I liave heard as much, reported upon
the authority of a very eminent nK^lern writer upon these
subjects.

So liave I. And \ can well lidicvc that the use of
Bacon's '" l'rerogativ(.'s of Listanccs," in fJie vrnj tJiiVj Juire

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER. 307

hee7i used, is not much ; and for the reason given by Her-
schel, viz. because the same judgment whicl^ enables you to
assign the Instance to its proper class, enabias you, without
that assignation, to recognize its proper value. Therefore
so long as the task of gathering his Instances as they grow
wild in the woods is left to the Interpreter of Nature him-
self, there is little use in a formal classification ; he knows
exactly what he wants ; what is not to his purpose he need
not trouble himself with ; what is to his purpose he can
apply to that purpose at once. And each several man of
genius will no doubt acquire a knack of his own by which
he will arrive at his results faster than by any formal
method. But suppose the Interpreter wants to use the help
of other people, to whom he cannot impart his own genius
or his peculiar gift of knowing at first sight what is to the
purpose and what is not. He wants them to assist him in
gathering materials. How shall he direct them in their
task so that their labours may be available for himself?
I take it, he must distribute the work among several, and
make it pass through several processes. One man may be
used to make a rough and general collection, — what we call
an omnium gatherum. Another must be employed to re-
duce the confused mass into some order fit for reference.
A third to clear it of superfluities and rubbish. A fourth
must be taught to classify and arrange what remains. And
here I cannot but think that Bacon's arrangement of In-
stances according to what he calls their Prerogatives, or
. some better arrangement of the same kiud which experience
ought to suggest, would be found to be of great value ;
especially when it is proposed to make through all the
regions of Nature separate collections of this kind such as
may combine into one general collection. For though it
be true that as long as each man works only for himself, he
may trust to the usus uni rei deditus for finding out the
method of proceeding which best suits the trick of his own
mind, — and each will probably pursue a different method, —
yet when many men's labours are to be gathered into one
table, any collector of statistics will tell you that they must

308 EVEXIXGS WITH A r.EVIEWEB.

all work according to a common pattern. And in the
subject we are speaking of, which is coextensive with the
mind of man on one side and with the nature of things on
the other, that will undoubtedly be the best pattern which
is framed upon the justest theory of the human under-
standing ; — for which distinction Bacon's would seem to be
no unlikely candidate.

However, I am hero again getting out of my province.
It may be that Bacon's project was visionary ; or it may be
that it is only tJiour/Jd visionary, because since his death no
heart has been created large enough to believe it prac-
ticable. The philosophers must settle that among them-
selves. But be the cause what it will, it is clear to me on
the one hand that the thing has not been seriously at-
tempted ; and on the other, that Bacon was fully satisfied
that nothing of worth could be hoped for without it ; there-
fore that we have no right to impute to him either the
credit of all that has been done by tlie new philosophy, or
the discredit of all that has been left undone.

Certainly not ; if you are right as to the fact. But I
still think there must be some mistake. How is it possibl
that among so many distinguished men who have studied
Bacon's philosophy with so much reverence, such a large
feature can have been overlooked ?

I cannot pretend to explain tliat. But an appeal to
one's own eyes is always lawful. Here is one passage which
is enough by itself to settle the question. If you are not
satisfied with it, I can quote half-a-dozen more to the same
effect: " lUwl uiferi/ii quod sxpe diximus ctiam hoc loco
2')rxcipue repetendiLin eni "

Translate ; if vou would liavo me follow.

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER. 309

" I must repeat here again what I have so often said ; — that
though all the wits of all the ages should meet in one, — though
the whole human race should make Philosophy their sole husi-
ness ; — though the whole earth were nothing but colleges and
academies and schools of learned men ; — yet without such a
natural and experimental history as I am going to describe, no
progress worthy of the human race in Philosophy and the
Sciences could possibly be made : Avhereas if such a history
were once provided and well-ordered, with the addition of such
auxiliary and light-giving experiments as the course of Inter-
pretation would itself suggest, the investigation of Nature and
of all sciences would be the work only of a few years. Either
this must be done, therefore, or the business must be abandoned.
For in this way, and in this way only, can the foundation be laid
of a true and active Philosophy."

Where does lie say that ?

In the Preface to what he calls the " Parasceue ad His-
toriani naturdlem et experimentalem,''' which is in foct nothiuo^
more than a description of the sort of history which he
wanted, — such a history as a true Philosophy might be built
upon, — with directions to be observed in collecting it. He
published it (somewhat out of its jn-oper place) in the same
volume with the Xovum Organum, in order that, if possible,
men might be set about the work at once ; of such primary
importance did he hold it to be. If you distrust my trans-
lation, take it in his own English. In presenting the Novum
Organum to the King, after explaining the nature and
objects of the work and his reason for publishing it in an
imperfect shape, he adds, '•' There is another reason for my
so doing ; which is to try whether I can get help in one
intended part of this work, namely the compiling of a
natural and experimental history, wMcli must he the main
foundation of a true and active ijldlosoi)liij.'' And again

310 EVEXTXGS WITH A BEVIEWEB.

about a week after, in reply to the King's graeions acknow-
ledgment of the book, — " This comfortable beginning
makes mo hope further that your Majesty ^^ill be aiding to
me in setting men on worlc for the collecting of a natural
and experimental history, which is lasis tofius neijotiH' And
this was no after-thought, but an essential feature of his
design as he had conceived it at least sixteen years before.
There is extant a description of this proposed history, which
appears to have been written as early as 1604 ; and though
the only copy that I know of is in an imperfect and muti-
lated manuscript, enough remains to show that in all its
material features it agreed exactly with the description set
forth in the Parasceue.

Now you know I am not going to discuss the merit of his
plan. It may (as I said) have been all a delusion. But
grant it a delusion, — still it was a delusion under which he
was actually labouring. If every man of science that ever
lived had considered it and pronounced it puerile and ridi-
culous, still their unanimous verdict could not. in the face
of his own repeated and earnest declarations, persuade mo
that it was not an essential part of Bacon's scheme ; that it
was not (in his perfect and rooted judgment) the one key
to the cipher in which the fortunes of the Iniman race are
locked up, — the one thing icitlt which all might be done;
v:itltout which nothing. And tliis is all tliat is necessary for
our present business. For we are not discussing liis })liiloso-
pliical capacity, but his })crsonal character and purposes as
illustrated by the tenour of his life.

Going ba( k tlicrefdrc to where we loft liim, you will be
pleased to rt'memlxjr tliat wlicn the })rorogation of jiarlia-
ment in July, 1 007, und the indis}»ositi(in of Salisbury to
use his al)ilitics in matters abo\-e his ol'lice, left him w\[\\
another interval before him of corn])arative leisure, he was
brimful of this great idea, and really believed that in the
argument of which he f jund hinisi/lf by some odd accident
the solitary and single-handeil chauipioii, were contained
the hopes of the huinaii i'a('(; for tiie rec(jverv of their lost
do]iiinion over nature and the tiual ei.JiKjuest of ull tiie

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 311

necessities and miseries of mortality. And if you will like-
wise remember that it was not as a man might entertain
such a speculation in these faded times when astonishment
itself has become an every-day matter of idle curiosity, —
that it was no curious speculation but a real and moving
hope, such as the promise of that great intellectual spring-
time, when the volume of Nature was opened (one may say)
for the first time and the world was waiting in expectation
of the issue, might well awaken in the soberest mind, — if
you will remember this, you may partly conceive how
solemn a thing such an idea was, falling into such a mind.

To this argument, accordingly, all the leisure which his
professional and official duties allowed him, appears at this
time to have been devoted. At least among his unprofes-
sional works that have come down to us, 1 think there are
only two (not bearing directly upon it) which seem to have
been composed at this period.

Which are they ?

The paper on the Plantation in Ireland, and the Latin
memorial of the Felicities of Queen Elizabeth.

I thought the paper on Ireland had been earlier.

The title does indeed state that it was presented to tlie
King in 1606. That however (in the shape in which wo
have it) it cannot have been ; for it alludes to the deatli of
Chief Justice Popham, which did not happen till June 1607.
The date (for the original manuscript had none) has been
added, I think indeed by Bacon himself, but probably
several years afterwards, when it was easy to make a mis-
take of a year or two. And that there was some doubt
about the exact time is clear, for 1605 had been written

312 EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWEB.

first. But the true date may be determined with tolerable
precision to be the 1st January, 1607-8.* And the paper
was written (I suppose) in reference to certain measures
taken by the Government upon the flight of Tyrone from
Ireland, which took place in the preceding autumn. In
a letter to Sir John Davies of the 2ord October 1607,
Bacon says in allusion to that event, — " I see manifestly the
beginning of better or worse. But methinketh it is first
a tender of the better, and worse followeth but upon refusal
or default." And the time being critical, the object of the
paper (which was presented to the King for a new year's
gift) was to guide the project right while the stage was yet
clear. The scheme of colonization, in furtherance of which
it was drawn up, was the most successful measure, I believe,
in the whole course of the policy of England towards Ire-
land ; and the principles laid down in it must (making
allowance for altered circumstances) be still our guides if we
hope to do any good in that region.

The memorial of the Felicities of Queen Elizabeth was
written in 1608 ; partly to discharge his debt of reverence
to the memory of his old mistress, partly as an important
contribution to the history of the times, which no one else
was so well qualified to supply. It is short, and touches
only some principal points ; yet it ought in my opinion not
only to find a place in every history of that reign, but to be
laid as a foundation for the study of it, being the deliberate
testimony of the man wlio of all others best understood the
times he was writing of, given at a period when there was
no inducement whatever to flatter them. The importance
which he liimself attached to it may be inferred from the
fact that in one of his wills he s])ecially directed that it
should be published. And undoubtedly the report of such
a man concerning the affairs of the days in which he lived,

* Mr. Gardiner {JIhfory of EiKjhdid, i. o.")!) dates it a year later, 1008-9.
Riglitly. Alliifiioii is made in tlie jiaper to tlie ])rnject as " dige.sted already
for the County of Tyrom " Xow on the 12tli (jf Dc'eeinLer 1G08 u sclieme for
the settlement of tlje Connty of 'J'yione was .submitted to tlie Government
by the Commissioners, and on the 'Jtli of January l(J08-9 for the otlier five
counties. So New Year's Day 1G08-9 would suit.

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 313

ought to be received by the historian as the weightiest
evidence that can be had. For there you have the two
great requisites in their greatest perfection, — the eye that
can see what is material, and the pen that can set it down
correctly.

The rest of his leisure seems to have been devoted en-
tirely to his great work (for the " Wisdom of the Ancients,"
if not strictly a part of it, is made up of its surplus materials)
— until at the next meeting of parliament Salisbury's un-
happy device of the " Great Contract " set the King and the
Commons together by the ears, and put the relation between
them so completely out of tune, that how to set that right
became the great problem of state in w^hich all others
merged, and for the solution of which every man who had
any interest in the State must have felt bound to contribute
his best endeavours.

Then this is too large a chapter to enter upon to-night.
But are you aware of the rock you are running on ? You
are trying to make out for Bacon so magnificent a mission
in the philosophical department, — magnificent according to
his own idea and belief, — that it must be a strong case which
will justify him in turning aside to pursue objects incom-
patible with the effectual prosecution of it.

I am quite aware of that. And as it happens, I do really
think he would not have turned aside for a light one. But
you speak as if I were bound to prove that he never made a
mistake. Did I ever undertake to do that? Surely not.
The best man that ever lived, if he had to make the journey
over again, would in many places take a different road. I
am quite content that, if you see occasion, you should regret
the course he took as a misfortune, or even censure it as an
error. We know that he regretted it himself. That he re-
pented it (which is so commonly assumed) is not so clear.
But what if he did ? Human life must alwavs be in some

314 EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB.

measure a game of chance. The wisest choice will often
turn out the unluckiest ; and however we may tvish, after the
event is known, that we had made some otlier, still if it was
the wisest it was the right choice to make, let it turn out as
unluckily as it will. Whether Bacon's choice on this occa-
sion was the wisest or not, I am not prepared to say. But I
do say — and I expect you to agree with me — that the occa-
sion was one in which a man wlio had the public good at
heart might easily doubt which choice to make. I am in a
hurry to keep an important appointment ; but if I meet by
the way with a man who has fallen among thieves, I must
stop to bind up his wounds, even though by the breach
of the appointment some better man loses more than the
wounded man gains by my surgery. And if I should say
afterwards (as I very likely may) that I am sorry I did not
keep the appointment, I hope no one will understand me as
deliberately wishing that I had left the man to bleed to death.
Bacon was in a hurry to finish the " Instauratio ^lagua,"
But he fell in by the way with a great accident which called
for present help. A breach was opened between the King
and the Commons, which was destined to grow every year
wider and wider, tdl it led to a civil war, which issued in
the violent subversion, first of the old government, then of
tlie new, to make way for a third worse than either. It is
surely possible to conceive that to one who foresaw in the
distance some such possible issue, tlie first opening of tliat
breach may have seemed like an accident which called all
hands to the rescue.

But we will talk further of tliat wlion we come to it. In
the mean time it is well that you sliould kn<»w wliat about
this timu was Jiacon's own idea of his vocation in the world,
I have given you my notion of the principles upon wliich he
was acting and tlie ends at which he was aiming, as I have
been abhj to cuUect them from the traces which remain of
his actual cours". I will now give you his (jwn as he had
himself recorded it, somewhere about this time. I say Itud
recorded, because the record is containe<l in an ohl paper
which he had laid bv lon^' before he 'I'ave his •rreat work to

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER. 315

the world ; and which no doubt represents his feelings at the
time when it was written. The exact date I cannot tell. It
was found among his papers, and was published many years
after his death with no explanation beyond the title. It bears
evidence however in itself that it was written about the
middle of his life, before he had attained any success in his
civil career, and probably at the time when he meant his
great work to be comprised in three books, under the title
of Teniporis Partus Masculns, sive de Literpretatione Naturw.
It is headed " Be luterjjretatione Naturx Prooemium," and if
he had completed the work in that form and at that time,
would I suppose have stood as the introduction. I translate
freely, as far as the expression is concerned ; but only that I
may give the true meaning and effect the more exactly.

De iNTEErilETATIONE NaTUR.E,
PROCEMIUM.

" Conceiving that I was born to be of use to mankind,
and that the care of the Common Weal is a kind of common
property, which like the air and the water belongs to every-
body, I set myself to consider in what way mankind might
be most effectually served, and what I was myself best fitted
by nature to do.

" And upon the first point I concluded that of all tlie
benefits that can be conferred upon the human race, the
greatest is the discovery of new arts, endowments, and com-
modities for the benefit of man's life. For I saw that among
the rude peo[)le in the primitive times, the authors of rude
inventions and discoveries were consecrated and numbered
among the gods. And it was plain that the good effects
wrought by founders of cities, law-givers, fatlicrs of the
people, extir[)ers of tyrants, and heroes of that class, extend
but over narrow spaces and last but for short times ; whereas
the work of the Inventor, though a thing of less pomp and
show, is felt everywhere and lasts for ever. But above all?
if — instead of striking out some particular invention, how-
ever useful — a man could kindle a light in Nature herself, —
a light that should in its very rising touch and illuminate

316 EVESINGS WITH A nEVIEWEIi.

all the border-regions tluit confine upon the circle of our
present knowledge ; and so spreading further and further
should presently disclose and bring into sight all that is
most hidden and secret in the world ; — that man (I thought)
would be the benefactor indeed of the human race, the pro-
pagator of man's empire over the universe, the champion of
liberty, the conqueror and rooter out of necessities.

" Then, turning to myself, I found that I was fitted for
nothing so well as for the study of Trutli ; as having a mind
nimble and versatile enough to catch the resemblances of
things (which is the greatest point), and at the same time
steady enough to fix and distinguish their subtler difler-
cnces ; as being gifted by nature with desire to seek, patience
to doubt, fondness to meditate, slowness to assert, readiness
to think again, carefulness to dispose and set in order ; and
as beins: a man that neither affects the new, nor admires the
old, and hates every kind of imposture. So that I thought
my nature had a kind of familiarity and relationsliip with
Truth.

" And yet because my birtli and education had seasoned
me in business of State ; and because opinions (so young as
I was) would sometimes stagger me ; and because I thought
that a man's own country has aoiwa special claims upon him
more than the rest of the v.orld ; and because I hoped that
if I rose to any place of honour in the State I should have
a larger command of ability and industry to help me in my
work ; — for these reasons I both ap})lied myself to acquire
the arts of civil life, and commendc'd my services, so far as
in juodesty and honesty I might, to tin,' favour of my
powerful friends. In which also 1 liad anotlier motive ; —
for I felt that tliose things I have spoken of (be they great
or small) reach no further than the- condition and culture of
this mortal lil'e; and 1 was not without hope (the condition
of lleligion being at that time not very prosperous) that if
I came to hold o(IIc(j in tlic State, I might get something
done too f(jr the good of ]u(,'ji's souls.

" When J found however that my /.eal was mistaken for
ambition; and thatmv lil'e h;id already reached tlie turning-

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 317

point ; and when my breaking health reminded me how ill I
could afford to be so slow ; and when I reflected moreover
that in leaving undone the good which I could do by myself
alone, and applying myself to that which could not be done
without the consent and help of others, I was by no means
discharging the duty which lay upon me, — I put all those
thoughts aside, and (in pursuance of my old determination)
betook myself wholly to this work. Nor am I discouraged
from it, because I see signs in the times of the decline and
overthrow of that knowledge and erudition which is now in
use. For though I do not apprehend any more barbarian
incursions (unless possibly the Spanish empire should first
recover strength to crush other nations by arms, and then
sink under its own weight), yet the civil wars which may be
expected, I think, (judging from certain fashions that have
come in of late,) to spread over many countries, — together
with the malignity of sects, and those compendious artifices
and devices that have crept into tlie place of solid erudition,
— seem to portend for literature and the sciences a tempest
no less fatal ; and one against which the Printing-office will
be no effectual security. And no doubt but that fair-
weather learning which is nursed by leisure and blossoms
under reward and praise, which cannot stand out against the
violence of opinion, and is liable to be abused by artifices
and quackery, will sink under such impediments as these.
Far otherwise is it with that Knowledge whose dignity is
maintained by works of utility and power. — For the wrongs
therefore which the times may threaten, I am not afraid of
them ; and for the wrongs which men may offer, I am not
concerned. For if any one charge me with seeking to be wise
overmuch, I answer simply that modesty and civil respect
are for civil matters ; in contemplations nothing is to be re-
spected but Truth. If any one call on me for ivories, and that
presently, I tell him frankly, without any varnish at all, that
for me,— a man not old, of weak health, my hands full of civil
business, entering without guide or light upon an argument
of all others the most obscure, — I hold it enough to have
constructed tbe machine, though I may not succeed in setting

318 EVEXIXGS WITH A HE VIE WEB.

it to work. Nay I will admit further that it would be
au error in me to make the attempt ; for that the Interpre-
tation of Nature, rightly conducted, ought, in the first steps
of the ascent, until a certain stage of Generals be reached, to
be kept clear of all application to works. And this has been
in fact the error of all those who have heretofore ventured
themselves at all upon the waves of experience, that, being
either too weak of purpose or too eager for display, they
have all at the outset sought prematurely for works, as
proofs and ple<lges of their progress, and upon that rock
have been wrecked and cast away. — If again any one ask
me, not indeed for actual works, yet for definite promises
and forecasts of the works that are to be, I would have him
know that the knowledge which we now possess will not
teach a man even what to ivish. — Lastly (though this be a
matter of less moment) — if any of our politicians, that use
to value everything according to persons or precedents,
must needs interpose his judgment in a thing of this nature,
— I would but remind him how (according to the old fable)
the lame man that kept the course beat the swift man who
left it ; and that there is no thought to be taken about pre-
cedents, for the tiling is without precedent.

" Xow for my plan of publication, it is this. Those
parts of the work which have it for their object to find out
and bring into correspondence such minds as are prepared
and disposed for tlio argument, and to purge the floors of
men's understandings, — I wish to be published to the world
and circulate from mouth to mouth ; the rest I would have
passed from hand to liand with sclectio]i and judgment.
Not but tliat I know it is an old trick of impostors to keep a
few of their follies back from the public which are indeed no
better than tliose wliicli thoy put forward; but in this case
it is no imposture at all, but a sound foresight, whicli tells
me tliat the formula itself (jf Interpretation, and the dis-
coveries made by the same, will thiive better if committed
to the charge of some lit and selected minds, and kept
pi'ivate.

" However, the I'ish- is iione of mine. In so far as the

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB. 319

issue depends upon others, it is indifferent to me, I am not
hunting for fame ; I have no ambition (heresiarch-wise) to
found a sect ; and to look for any private gain from such an
undertaking as this, would be as ridiculous as base. Enough
for me the consciousness of well-deserving, and those real
and effectual results with which Fortune itself cannot inter-
fere."

What a magnificent overture ! Why did he suppress it,
I wonder?

You know the case had changed before he published the
" Novum Organum." He had re-engaged himself in politics,
— was no longer wholly betaken to this work. But indeed
he rather altered than suppressed it. The substance of the
more material part of it is to be found in the first book of
the "Novum Organum." It is distributed through several
different aphorisms, and brought out more fully and per-
fectly. But I think it is all there, except the autobiogra-
phical part, and the prophecy of civil wars ; both of which
are interesting, though I dare say he was quite right to
leave them out. The latter seems decisively to disprove
the assertion, commonly (though I think negligently) made,
that he had no foresight of the danger with which the
Government was threatened from the progress of popular
opinion. And the former is, I believe, the only piece of
autobiography in which he ever indulged. In the preface
to the " Novum Organum " he leaves it with a simple " De
nobis ipsis silemus."

Which I like still better.

Yes, the silence is great ; but we should not have known
hoiv great, without knowing as we do from this, how much
lay beneath it, — what it was that he did not think it neces-
sary to say.

320 I-JVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER.

The interval of repose, then, carries him to the end of
his forty-ninth year. I shall be curious to hear what it was
that brought him back into the turmoil. Tiie reviewer
gives us no light upon the subject.

No, lie must wait a little longer till we come up with
him.

EVENING THE NINTH.

I undertook to explain the nature of the emergency
which interrupted Bacon in the prosecution of his great
work, and called him back to the service of the State. And
if you will he content with a general explanation, I do not
know that I need be long about it. But if you look for
details and authorities —

0 never mind the details. Make me understand gene-
rally what was the matter. I can ask for particulars after-
wards if I like.

The matter was the disease for which Fal staff could find
no remedy, — the consumption of the purse ; an awkward
disease in itself for a King, and one which was fast breeding
others of a more dangerous character. King James, to say
the worst of him, could not easily deny himself any pleasure ;
and unfortunately one of his chief pleasures was to give to
those whom he liked whatever they wished to have; in
consequence of which he soon had much less than nothing-
left of his own. He had reigned with this infirmity for six
years, when his Lord Treasurer, the old Earl of Dorset,
died ; leaving the Exchequer in a miserable condition.
The ordinary expenditure exceeded the ordinary income

VOL. I. T

322 EVENINGS WITH A ItE VIEWER.

by 81,000/. a-year ; besides which there was a debt of
1,300,0007, ; hnd this at a time when the reguhir revenue
of the Crown was expected to meet all its ordinary occasions
without any assistance from parliament.

Salisbury was made Lord Treasurer, and lost no time in
setting his brains to deal with the difficulty ; and if diligence,
subtlety, activity, and finesse, had been enough fur tl\o task,
perhaps^ there was no man more likely to succeed. But he
had here a new case to deal with, and tlie event sliowed that
he did not tlioroughly understand it. It may be doubted
indeed whether, wlien ho began, he understood it at all.
For thougli he succeeded in reducing the debt by 900,000?.
and in considerably increasing the ordinary revenue, yet the
amendment was but partial, and it was effected chiefly by
measures which stood directly in the way of the only remedy
that could be really effectual and satisfactory. He had
not been long in office, however, before he did understand
thus much, that that remedy must come from parliament ;
and that, since the precedents of parliament showed no
instance of a supply at all adequate to the emergency, some
new occasion must be created tliat should lie out of tlie
region of precedents. Xay, ho prf^bably saw likewise that
it would be necessary to place the Cro^vn and the Commons
permanently in a new relation to each other, so far as
revenue was concerned. Such a necessity was certainly
coming on fast. As tlie wealth and population of tlie
kingdom grew, the expenses of Government could nut but
increase; yet tlie Cruwn revenues were Jiot increasing in
anything like that proportion ; and in tlie mean time tlie
value of tlie old parliamentary contribution, — the " oiio
subsidy and two fiiteens," — was rapidly diminishing. The
subsidy was indeed at this time less by at least a third than
it had been in the beginning of (^ueen Elizabeth's reign.

How do you mean ?

Yy.
I mean that three sul)si(lies in James's time did jiot
bring as many i)Ounds into the Exchequer as two did iifty

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 323

years before. I cannot tell you why ; but so it was. And
therefore it may well be doubted whether the GoYernment,
even with the strictest economy in the husbandry as well as
in the distribution of its means, could have gone on much
longer upon the old system. But however that may be,
there could be no doult that the immediate necessity with
which Salisbury had to deal, made some extraordinary
course absolutely indispensable ; and the very ticklish
terms upon which Prerogative and Privilege then stood
made the choice of that course extremely difficult and
hazardous.

I can easily believe that : — an admission of the truth
being, I suppose, hardly practicable.

An exposure of the truth nailed being at least very
undesirable. Where it is the fashion to wear clothes, you
know, Innocence herself must go drest, or she will be mis-
taken for something quite different. But in this case the
danger was not so much in letting the truth be known (if
it had been possible to know it fully), as in letting the
questions be agitated through which it was to be ap-
proached. The boundary-line between the power of the
Crown and the power of the Commons had not yet been
laid down.

"Was not yet correctly understood, you mean.

Ko ; that is just what I do not mean. I mean what I
say, — that it had not yet been laid down. I mean that
there v:as no boundary-line. And it is important to keep
this distinction in mind; because modern writers are too
apt to talk as if the principles of the constitution had
always been there and always been the same ; only had not
always been properly understood ; — as if this thing might be

324 EVENINGS WITH A HE VIE WEE.

spoken of as in itself constitutional, and that thing as in
itself unconstitutional, without reference to the time of
which you speak. Whereas in fact not merely the know-
ledge of the constitution but the constitution itself was
groicing ; growing, and changing as it grew ; nor is there
any period of its growth in which a different combination
of accidents might not have made it grow in a different way.
Is it constitutional, for instance, that Privy-Councillors
should sit and vote in the House of Commons ?

Yes ; beyond all question.

Beyond all question now, I grant. The accidents have
so settled it. But in the year 1014 that very point was so
far from being beyond question, that it was actually under
discussion and within an inch of being settled the other
way. That the Attorney-General should sit and vote in
the Commons was actually decided to be unconstitutional.
Of course I do not mean that decisions of such questions
are merely capricious. They are meant to be decided
according to reason. But reasons turn chiefly upon pre-
cedents ; and j)recedents are for the most part determined
by accident.

This, however, is all a digression ; and for our present
purpose it is not necessary that we should agree on the
point. It will at any rate be admitted that many con-
stitutional questions were as yet undetermined, Xow in
the case before us, the question whicli remained to be de-
termined was this — how far, according to the laws and
usages of the land, was tlie King dependent upon the House
of Commons for means to carry on the Government ? That
he could not carry it on comfortably or prosperously with-
out their help, was })]ain enougli : but could ho carry it on
at all? Kow tell me: Ho you think it was desirable, as
things then stood, to pusli sucli a (piestion, or allow it to
be pushed, to a definite issue ? And beibre you answer,

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER. 325

remember what practical inferences must have been imme-
diately drawn from it, and what momentous consequences
were involved in them, — especially if the answer were " No."

If the King could not carry on the Government con-
stitutionally without assistance from the House of Commons,
it followed (you would say) that the Commons had con-
stitutionally a veto, such as it has now, upon all the pro-
ceedings of the Government ?

Precisely. Do this, or we stop the supplies.

It would have been a revolution, no doubt ; and a re-
volution (I do think) far too great to come safely upon the
nation, if it came suddenly. Even coming as it did after
the civil war, — (for the civil war itself may be considered,
I suppose, rather as the answer to the question than as a
consequence involved in the answer) — great preparations
Avore found necessary for the entertainment of it.

Yes. The art of packing and corrupting the House of
Commons, which had been scarcely thought of in James's
time, and was then reckoned unconstitutional, had to be
studied and brought into fashion. And if it had been
studied less diligently or practised with less success, we
hardly know now whether the State could have borne
without some great disorder the full recognition of the
dependence of the Crown upon the Commons. And in
prospect, it must of course have looked more alarming than
we can guess from our retrospect.

Well : the problem then was, to induce the Commons to
supply the King's necessities without tempting them to in-

326 EVENIXGS WITH A nEVIEWER.

quire too curiously into the extremity of his case, or to ask
what Nvoukl happen to him or to them if they left him
unsu2:)plied. Yes. I see the difficulty of it. It was such
a case as two wise men acting solely for themselves and
upon their own judgment might have found hard to adjust,
and for two such parties as a legitimate King and a popular
House of Commons to settle it between them, must have
been a very formidable enterprise. And yet I think great
use might have been made of the occasion by a man of real
ability.

Ay ; if a man could have been found who had sense
and courage enough to understand the whole case and all
its possible issues ; who had public spirit enough to sym-
pathize with both parties and desire their common good ;
who had enough of the confidence of both to be listened to
on either side with respect and without suspicion ; who had
address enough to keep them both from treading too near
the dangerous places ; — such a man might have turned the
difficulty to an excellent account, and liave brouglit out of it
a result greatly to the advantage of all. He might have
rendered a service to his country as nearly immortal as
anything in this world can be. But unfortunately Salisbury
was not such a man. That he did not fully understand the
case is unquestionable; for he had it in his own hands and
it signally failed. And one would almost think (as I said
just now) that when he first took it up he did not under-
stand it at all. At h'ast if he had been deliberately looking
out for an ol)stacle to throw in the war, I hardly know what
he could have found more effectual than his first measure.

What might that be ?

I dare say you know that the question of Impositionsh'Ai^
already been agitated in the House of Ccuumons : the ques-
tion (I mean) whether tli(,' King had a right by his preroga-

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 327

tive to imjDose duties without tlie sanction of parliament upon
goods exported and imported. It was true that a case which
turned upon that question had been recently argued in the
Court of Exchequer, and the Judges had decided that the
King had such a right. But it was also true that in the last
parliament that very decision had been complained of and
controverted ; and it was quite plain that it had by no means
set the question at rest. It was just one of tliose stretches of
prerogative of which the Commons were most jealous ; per-
haps with most reason. Yet the very first thing Salisbury
did, after he was made Lord Treasurer, was to stretch tliis
very power further than it had ever been stretched before ; — •
to lay on at one cla23, by the sole virtue of this disputed
right, duties to the amount of 00,000/. a year. Whether it
was done in inconsiderate haste, as the readiest shift to
make the ordinary receipts equal to the ordinary expenditure
and stop the accumulation of debt ; or whether he had some
further reach in it,— as thinking perhaps to enhance the
value of a prerogative which he meant to sell, or by in-
creasing the burden to make the Commons more eager to
bargain for the removal of it, — I cannot say. But so it was.
And a very mischievous measure it proved.

I dare say it was only to enhance the value of his own
services in the King's eyes, and so establish himself in his
new seat.

Well, that may be. It is the simplest explanation, and
very likely tlie true one. And now you mention it, I re-
member something which rather confirms it. Tiiere is a
curious paper in the British Museum drawn up by Sir
Julius Caesar, who was then Chancellor of the Exchequer.
It contains a journal record of Salisbury's services during
the first two months of his Treasurership ; and seems to have
been drawn up (in perfect good faith, I do not doubt) for
the express purpose of magnifying to the King the merits of

328 EVEXIXGS WITH A REVIEWER.

his now Lord Treasurer. The particuhir business of the
Impositions is thus recorded : —

" On Saturday the 11th of June, the Lord Treasurer, attended
by the Chancellor and the Barons of the Exchofpier, went to the
Custom House, and there in the assembly of the chief merchants
of England, asi^embled from all the principal parts of the land,
did make an excellent speech to prove that Impositions might
lawfully bo imposed by sovereign kings and princes on all
merchandises issuing out or coming into their ports ; — that no
King, living or dead, doth or ever did deserve better for the con-
tinuance of that privilege than our sovereign King James, who
in his excellent virtues, natural, moral, and political, surmonnteth
all other kings living or dead ; — that his present necessities
occasioned for the use of the public, especially for Ireland, con-
tiary to his own will and the admirable sweetness of his oavu
natural inclination, have occasioned him to use this lawful and
just means of profit; — which speech he had no sooner knit up
with a particular repetition of Impositions now seeming burden-
some and ordered b}' his Majesty for the case of his subjects to
be lightened, and likewise most things of necessary important
use to the poor to be excepted from any imposition, than cveiy
man, after some little contradiction, assented to this general im-
position now established ; — which will prove the most gainful to
the King of any one day's work done by any one Lord Treasurer
since the time of King Edward III."

The whole journal of Salisbury's services during tlieso
two months is summed up iu these words: — •

" He hath moreover, to the King's great honour, lessened the
Impositions upon the commodities of currants, sugars, and to-
bacco ; and hath, to the King's great profit and the l)enefit of his
po.steiify, incrf.'ascd his revenue by new Lnpositions general
upon other mei'cliandiscs to tlie value of 00,000/. a year; and
likewise hath raised a like benefit of 10,000?. a year increase
upon ale-hou.^cs lic(;nscd.

"So tliat, besides his other continual employments both iu
this liigli i)laco and otlier his impoi'tant and great places, ho
hath in tlio siiace of two months and twenty days directed and
signed 2884 letters, and gotten to the King iu money 37,455/.
and in yearly revenues 71,100/.; whicli I dare confidently affirm
was never done by any Lord I'reasurer of Ihigland in two years.
(h)d's name bo glorified for it, and honoured bo our gracious

EVEXINGS WJTff A BEVIEWEB. 320

Sovereign, who made the clioice of so diligent and gracious a
servant : and recommended be that servant who hath the con-
science to discharge his duty to so gracious a Sovereign, whose
long experienced judgment can rightly deem of men's deserts,
and wisely distinguish between truth and falsehood."

So the good Sir Julius ; Salisbury himself (we may
suppose) not being unwilling that all this fuss should be
made about him. His uppermost object, I dare say, was to
make the King feel that he could not spare so diligent and
so profitable a servant. It was his best defence against the
rising influence of Carr, and the machinations of his Court
enemies. But we are wandering again.

All this was done. But all this was not nearly enough.
The Crown still laboured under a debt of 400,000?. and a
large annual deficiency. The next step therefore was to
think of some benefit to the people, in return for which
(being conditionally offered) the Commons might be induced
to vote a supply adequate to the wants of the Government.
And certainly the scheme which Salisbury devised with this
view was a large and imposing, and (had it been wisely
digested and prudently carried) might have proved a very
happy one. The revenue of the Crown was in those days
drawn from many sources besides its patrimonial property ;
chiefly from certain tenures and privileges, — such as Ward-
ships, Knights'-service, Purveyance, and others, — the par-
ticular nature of which I cannot undertake to explain : — •
remnants of tlie feudal system, which the times were fast
outgrowing ; — privileges which had come to be burdensome
to the people in a degree much greater, I fancy, than they
were valuable to the crown ; and what was worse, (the
system and occasions out of which they originally grew
being forgotten,) had come to be looked upon and felt as
grievances. Yet that these rights did belong to the Crown
and formed a regular and legitimate source of revenue was
not disputed. Here therefore were all the essential elements
of a just and advantageous arrangement for both parties.
A fixed revenue of equal amount derived from taxation
would have been better for the Kins:, -r^nd even a con-

330 EVENIXGS WITH A BEVIEWEB.

sulerably larger revenue so supplied would have been mucli
better for the people. There remained only the old difficulty,
incident to all the bargains that are made under the sun, —
the difficulty of inducing the contracting parties to deal
frankly and openly, with just and reasonable desires on both
sides ; instead of higgling and trying above all things to
overreach one another, or (which is almost as bad) taking
care above all things not to bo overreached. It must be ad-
mitted, however, that this difliculty was in the particular
case unusually great. The Commons, — ^^jealous, ambitious,
conscious of their advantage, many, and full of lawyers ; — ■
the King, irritable, impatient, loose-tongued, conscious of
his disadvantage and struggling to face it out, his heart
full of anxiety about his estate, his mouth full of prerogative
and divine right ; — how were two such parties to come to
an understanding on such a subject? Everything would of
course depend upon the discreet opening and conducting of
it by those ministers who stood between the two and had
influence with both. And here again it must be admitted
that Salisbury, with all his experience, dexterity, and
practised diplomatism, made great mistakes ; so great as to
give some colour to the suspicion that he had some otlier end
in view, and did not sincerely wish the negotiation to
succeed according to the professed design. Such was
certainly Bacon's impression ; though I cannot find that he
had any definite conjecture as to ^^■hat the real end was.

Stop ; you are going a little too fast for me. ^^'hatkind
of mistakes did he make ?

I will tell you as well as I can. But our accounts of the
progress of tlie business and tlie causes which broke it olf
are so imperfect tliat much must be lei't to conjecture ; and
I must coni'ess that the best conjectures which I have
myself been able to make leave mucli unexplained and un-
accounted for. But there are two principal features in his

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEIi. 831

management of the negotiation concerning which there is no
doubt ; and I think we may safely (especially after the
event) pronounce them great mistakes.

In the first place, whatever might be the causes in which
the proposition originated, the proposed arrangement both
professed to be and was for the good of the State. It was to
establish the necessary powers and revenues of the Crown
upon a foundation less inconvenient and obnoxious to the
people. Now in such a case what would you have set forth
as the ostensible motives and inducements to the measure ?

The benefits which it promised, of course.

Exactly so. The necessities and embarrassments of the
Crown should have' been kept out of sight ; and the substan-
tial benefits of the measure, as a thing good for the common-
wealth, should have been boldly relied upon as the only and
sufficient recommendation of it. But wliat did Salisbury
do ? He began by a public and official proclamation of the
King's pecuniary distress, the amount of his debts, the in-
sufficiency of his ordinary income to meet his ordinary ex-
penditure, and his utter inability to extricate himself from
his embarrassments without a very liberal supply from the
benevolence of the people. As if a man, going to borrow
money of a Jew, wore to begin (by way of inducing him to a
reasonable bargain) with saying, " Here is a schedule of my
debts ; my creditors are impatient and unrelenting ; there-
fore yon see I am entirely at your mercy." Surely this was
to tell the Commons in so many words tliat they had the
King at a disadvantage and might make what terms they
pleased. For they need be in no hurry. Theij were in no
extremity. On the contrary, they were flourisliing in a
wealthy peace. The burdens they suffered could hardly be
called oppressions. The cry of grievances was not the cry
which is sometimes wrung from a people by burdens in-
creased till they become intolerable ; rather that of a people

^ol EVEN IX OS WITH A BEVIEWER.

whose burdens are just heavy enough to irritate, but not
heavy enough to oppress. And of these they were in fact
rapidly relieving themselves, and rapidly winning the game.
It was the exultation of success, not the agony of despair,
that made James's parliaments difficult to manage. They
kicked because they had waxed fat.

Well, the foundation being thus ill-laid, and the distresses
of the Crown being officially proclaimed and thrown into the
House of Commons to be examined and discussed, — then
came the second great mistake. By way of remedy the
Commons were invited to provide for the King both a pre-
sent supply sufficient to relieve him from his present
necessities (for which 600,0007. was asked), and a permanent
income for the future, sufficient for the annual expenditure
of government (which was laid at 200,0007. a year) ; and by
way of retribution for this provision, it was intimated that
the King was ready to hear and redress all their grievances.

Including Wardships, Purveyance, kc, I suppose ?

Why yes, I suppose the design was to include them. It
could hardly have been hoped that the arrangement would
proceed otherwise. But tliey were as yet kept in the baclc-
ground. The redress of grievances was hold out in the
beginning as a sufficient retribution. The sacrifice by tlie
Crown of a })ortion of its legitimate revenue was not spoken
of; and when it came to be proposed afterwards was treated
as a matter for a separate bargain, worth another 100,000/.
a year. However, though Salisbury woidd not sliow his
whole budgi't at first, 1 cannot doubt that lie was from the
first prej)ai'ed to fall hack upon these as the bargain })ro-
ceeded, and meant them in fact to form the substantial part
of the retribution.

Of course he would not throw away his Mh()le"bagof
equivak'nts " until lie had felt his footing. But where was

i:VENlNQS WITH A BE VIEWER. 333

his mistake? I thought you admitted just now that such a
change would be good for both parties.

ISo doubt, it was better that the King should receive his
50,000?. a year (or whatever the sum might be) from a well-
ordered tax or duty than from the Court of Wards ; I do not
find fault with that. But do you think the Commons were
so dull as not to see, that if they both paid off the King's
debts and assigned him a permanent income large enough to
enable him to carry on the government without an occasional
subsidy from them, the tables would be turned and they
would be thenceforward at Ids mercy? Give him money
enough, and what need would he have to call any more par-
liaments? or what should hinder him from calling them
only to do his work, and dissolving them the moment they
began to do any work for themselves ?

Yes, I see. It must indeed have been a large concession
tliat would have made it their interest to give up that hold
upon him.

Would any conceivable concession have been largo
enough ? Would it not have been fatal to the popular
element in the constitution? Even the best-devised laws
for securing the liberties of the people could not have been
trusted when that check was taken away. Take away the
fear of parliaments, and the lawyers would have made the
laws mean just what thoy liked.

" Certainly," said Bacon, writing to the King two or three
years after, " when I heard the overtures last parliament carried
in such a strange figure and idea, as if your Majesty should no
more (for matter of profit) have needed your subjects' help ; nor
your subjects in that kind should no more have needed your
graces and benignity ; methought, besides the difficrdty (in next
degree to an impossibility) it was animalis sapientia, and almost
contrary to the very frame of a monarchy and those original

334 EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB.

obligations which it is God's will should intercede between King
and people."

It is very doubtful to me whether any true friend to the
entire constitution could have wished for the consummation
of such an arrangement. It was very certain that the
Commons (being, as a body, true friends only to their own
half of the constitution) would be stimulated by such a
proposal to rake up every possible grievance that might be
thrown as an additional weight into their own scale, and to
stir every disputed question which, being decided in their
favour, would disparage the value of the concessions which
the King was prepared to make. And what could a negotia-
tion so commenced be expected to lead to but turbulent and
irritating litigation while it lasted, and in the end to a fruit-
less breaking-off with mutual dissatisfaction ?

With regard to the details of the actual proceeding we
have a good deal of scattered information, partly in the
fragmentary notes preserved in the Commons' Journals (too
fragmentary to be understood), partly in general reports of
the progress of the session sent from one friend to another
and preserved in collections of contemporary correspondence;
but hardly sufficient to ground a faithful narrative upon.
Enough remains however to prove beyond doubt that the
proceeding was full of offence and irritation, and that the
end was utter failure, which left tlie relation between King
and Commons in a worse condition than over, and all chance
of a satisfactory adjustment thenceforward greatly di-
minished.

The first thing was a general raking-up of grievances ; a
thing which of itself could hardly end pleasantly : for they
were sure to light upon some which could not be redressed,
and these would but smart the more for being probed. But
it was impossible for them to get through the list of
grievances without falling upon the question of Impositions.
Salisbury's much-vaunted day's work made this inevitable.
The valuation of the C(jncessions offered by the King could
not proceed a step until it was determined whether so im-
portant and indefinite a power as that of setting duties uyxm

EVENINGS WITH A EE VIE WEE. 335

imports and exports at his own will, were his to concede or
not. The very entrance upon the question, as might have
been expected, bred trouble. Angry speeches passed between
the Upper and Lower House. The King with characteristic
precipitation forbade the Commons to discuss his right, and,
upon their remonstrance, with characteristic facility with-
drew his objection — but not till thoughts had been suggested
and words spoken which were like sparks in the neighbour-
hood of gunpowder. The discussion ended, as might also
have been anticipated, in a vote that the King had no such
right ; and though they abstained from a formal resolution
to that effect, which would have been a direct censure upon
the judgment in the Court of Exchequer, they yet took care
to introduce it in the petition of grievances in such a
manner as distinctly to imply a denial of the King's right ;
whence it followed that his consent to pass an act depriving
him of this power for the future, (and to this he did after-
wards consent,) which would have been received as a great
boon had it come before that discussion, now went for
nothing. Then came searching inquiries into all the other
points of prerogative and the proper value of them ; and
then all the higgling incident to a bargain in which neither
party knew how much the other was prepared to give. And
in this also it must be added as another proof of Salisbury's
mismanagement, that the huckster-spirit was more glaringly
displayed on his side tlian on the other.

Nevertheless the time was certainly favourable. There
appears to have been an eager desire to conclude an arrange-
ment upon the proposed basis, and great hope that it would
be effected. Intelligent men who were by no means blind
to the difficulties of the case did certainly expect that it
would end at last in some great beneficial arrangement for
the commonwealth : and at one time it seemed uj)on the
very point of adjustment : for by the latter end of July the
Commons had formally agreed to assure to the Crown, in
consideration of certain specified concessions, an annual
revenue of 200,000/. ; while the King, on his side, had
intimated his willingness to make the concessions and accept

336 EVENINGS WITH A BE VIEWER.

the money. In short, they had agreed on tlie substance of
the bargain ; and it only remained to give and take effectual
securities on either side for the due performance. In this
no doubt there were many difficulties still to be encountered.
But this preliminary agreement (to which the Commons
had been brought at last and reluctantly by a sudden inti-
mation that if they did not agree at once the negotiation
would be broken off altogether) was thought a good enough
resting-place for the time : whereupon they were prorogued
for three months, with an understanding that at their next
meeting they should take up the business where it had been
left off.

A fixed revenue of 200,000Z. a year, assured to the Crown
for ever, and not requiring any renewed sanction from par-
liament, I suppose. But stay — that was only for the support.
"What became of the proposal for a present supphj .?

True: for wliich Salisbury had asked G00,000/. Why,
for the present, little or nothing. They had voted one
subsidy and one fifteenth ; the smallest contribution ever
voted, I believe ; — not above a fifth part of the demand.
However that was of no great consequence, considering the
time. It would have been hardly reasonable to expect a full
contribution until tlie rrst of tlie bargain was concluded.
To vote that would have beo]i to give up tlioir present
advantage. jMany accidents might frustrate tlie bargain
yet ; and after all — (tliough but a few days before the close
of the session they seemed "like to part on the lovingest
terms that ever any subjects of England did rise from })ar-
liament "j — tlioir iinal loavo-taking was not aus})icious. The
greater part of tlie petition of grievances had hitherto re-
mained unanswered. Tlie answer was reserved until the
day of proi'ogution, and when it came was very far from
satisfact(U'y. S(j tliey were sent into the country to meditate
for three months U])on what they had done and what tliey
were to do, in no very good humour.

i: VEXING S WITH A REVIEWER. 337

And how did it all end ?

Ask me in what it ended, and I can tell you easily
enough : — in nothing at all, but mutual disappointment and
vexation. How it ended, is a question which (strange to
say) nobody can answer. Most of our historians impute the
change to the House of Commons. AVhen they met again
(it is said) they were out of love with the project ; and
instead of settino- themselves to conclude the arrang-ement
which they had agreed upon, took to the exhibition of fresh
grievances or the ripping up of old grievances anew. And
certain it is that within a month of their meeting they were
in full cry upon that scent, and in very bad humour. That
they were in that disposition when they met I should think
probable, not so much from any evidence that I can find
of the fact, as from the nature of the case. Three months
spent in talking over their bargain with their constituents
or with one another would naturally tend to diminish their
satisfiiction with it. All opinions would concur in exagge-
rating the sacrifice they had agreed to make, and in under-
valuing the retributions for which they had stipulated. I
should have been contented therefore with this explanation
of the commencement of the breach, if it were not for some
expressions dropped by Bacon, (and in letters to the King,
to whom he would not offer an unlihehj story,) which would
seem to ascribe the breaking-off of the contract to Salisbury
himself. In a letter written not long after Salisbury's death,
— the object of which was to persuade the King to call
a parliament, and to show that the failure of the last need
not cause him to despair of good from another, — he concludes
his examination of the grounds upon which he builds better
hopes for the future with these remarkable words : — " Lastly,
I cannot excuse him that is gone of an artificial animating
of the negative; which infusion or influence now ceasing,
I have better hope : "—clearly charging Salisbury with
VOL. I. z

338 EVEXINGS WITH A BEVIEWER.

having secretly encouraged the opposition. And again in
another letter written with the same object a few years later,
(when after a second trial of a parliament and a second
failure, he yet wanted to encourage the King to try once
more,) I find the folhjv.ing passage in allusion to Salisbury's
Great Contract. He is endeavouring to account for the
" dryness " (as he calls it) of the last two parliaments, and
to show that it arose from accidents and mismanagement,
not from the natural disposition and constitution of the
Lower House. Former parliaments, he shows, had been
liberal : —

"But in the succeeding parliament in septimo, when that the
Lord Treasurer that last was, had out of his own vast and
glorious ways to poor and petty ends, set a-foot the Great
Contract, like the Tower of Babylon, building an imagination
as if the King should never after need his people more, nor the
people the King ; but that the land should be no more like the
land of promise watered with tlie dew of heaven, which some-
times was drawn from the earth and sometimes fell back upon
the earth again ; but like the land of Egypt watered by certain
streams and cuts of Lis owm devising ; — and afterwards, either
out of variety, or having met with somewhat that he looked
not fur, or otherwise having made use of the opinion, in the
end undid the hahy that he had made, — then grew the change,"
and i--o on.

Now is it not clear from this that Bacon thought the
breaking-off of the Contract A\a3 Salisbury's own doing ?

It would seem so. But what could have been Salisbury's
motive ? It is surely a most unaccountable proceeding.

A man so much given to finesse as Salisbury may have
served, or jioped to serve, some end by it wliich we cannot
guess at now. In endeavouring to account for his mis-
management of tins business, I have several times stopped
to consider wlietber lie was not trying to lead tlu; Commons
into a trap; hoping to draw from tiiem in the lirst gh»w of

EVENINOS WITH A REVIEWEE. 339

tlieir expectations a large present supply; and meaning
when that was secured to take some occasion for breaking
off the contract. When he found that they were too wary for
him, he may have thought it his policy to bring about a
breach and yet not to appear himself as the author of it, and
for that purpose may have thrown secret obstructions in the
May. However it is hardly fair to fix so grave an imputation
upon him without some corroborative evidence ; and I have
not met with any, unless the general charge of having
"joggled" with parliament, with the King, and with every-
body, (which we know from Mr. Chamberlain was so fretdy
urged against him immediately after his death,) may be
considered as a corroboration. Only I think Bacon would
hardly have expressed such an opinion to the King, who
must have known whether there was any truth in it, unless
he had believed it to be true. And I do not know who was
so little likely to be deceived in such a matter.

To a person who did 7iot know whether there was any
truth in it, you think he might possibly have expressed
such an opinion whether he believed it or not ?

Excuse me. I do not think so ; but you do. Because
of the hardness of your heart, I am obliged to make this
concession. If I were to assume that Bacon never said a
• thing which he did not believe to be true, you would charge
me with begging the question. When we have followed
him to the end of his career, I may perhaps ask you what
thing ho ever said that he did not believe ; for it is a thing
I have yet to learn ; but so long as his character is the
sui)ject of controversy, we must not treat his veracity as
above suspicion.

Then it seems you have no decisive judgment to pro-
nounce upon Salisburs 's motives in this great matter.

340 EVEXIXGS WITH A IlEVIEWER.

None tliat I am perfectly satisfied with. And indec(l
why should we trouble ourselves to clear them up? Our
business is not with the motives or management, but only
w ith the issue ; and about that there is no doubt. ^Vhat-
ever or whoever may have been to blame for the miscarriau'e
of the negotiation, there is no doubt that it was a disastrous
business ; — a disaster hardly to bo retrieved ; for success
was never more important and failure was never more
complete. Of the terms upon which, after all this talk
and expectation, the King and his people parted, here is
a lively and authentic picture. On the 25th of November
1610, about six weeks after the last meeting of the parlia-
ment, Sir Thomas Lake wrote to Salisbury from the Court
at Eoyston : —

" That the King liath received by Sir Eoger Aston a copy of
the order set down against tlie next meeting of the House ;
which his ^lajesty doth collect into three points. 1st. To give
reasons why they should yield to no supply. 2ufl. To ex;nnii,o
the answers to the grievances, and wherein they were not
satisfactory. And ortlly, to consider wliat further imniuiutics
and easements are to he demanded for the people. Ilis Majesty
doth also perceive, botli ]»y my Lord of Montgomery and by Sir
Logcr Aston, thiit you would wish his Majesty and your Lord-
slnps ndght have a meeting to consult of his affairs in })arlia-
nient.

" To ])oth these liis 3Iajosty willeth this to be written : — -
" That lie maketh no doubt that the cause of your late advi.'C
to adj<ju]'n thi- lloiise was lor tliat you foiesaw that they W(juhl
do W(j)-se (jii Saturday tliaii they ha<l done on Lriday ; and how
you are now assured tliat Avlicn they meet again on Thursday
tliey will not Ije in the same mood, Ids Majesty AVuidd lie glad
to know. F(»r he asMireih himself that if yi'ur Ldi'dshijis
tliouglit the i louse wnuld follow the same liumour, you wotdd
n(jt advise their meeting. Jlis iligliness wislieth youi' Jvirdship
to call to mind that he hath wnw had patience with this
assendtly these seven years, and I'lom them 7'(,'ceive(l muic
disgraces, censures, and ii;iiominies. than ever ]irinee did ( n-
dure. IL' I'olloued your Jjordships" advices in ha\ing [latiemc,

EVENINGS WITH A EE VIE WEB. 341

hoping for better issue. lie cannot have asinine patience ; ho
is not made of that metal that is ever to be held in suspense
and to receive nothing but stripes ; neither doth he conceive
that your Lordships are so insensible of these indignities, as
that you can advise any longer endurance. For his part, he is
resolved, though now at their next meeting they would give
him supj)ly, were it never so large, and. sauce it with such
taunts and disgraces as have been uttered of him and of those
tliat appertain to him (which by consequence redound to him-
self), nay though it were another kingdom, he will not
a'.'cept it.

" Therefore, touching the other point of his meeting with
your Lordships, either by his coming nearer to you or by any
of your coming to him, his Highness thus answereth. That no
man should be more willing to take pains than he, when there
is hope of good to come by it. But as things now stand in
appearance, for him to put either himself or you to the labour
of an unpleasant jonrney Avithout likelihood of comfort ; but on
tlie contrary when you meet together to find the pains of your
bodies aggravated with vexation of spirit, or to part irresolute
as at the last conference you did, — his Majesty doth not see
to what end such a meeting should be. But for aught he sceth
in his own understanding, he takcth no other subject of con-
sultation to be left, than how the parliament may end quietl}',
and he and his subjects part with fairest shows ; wliich ho
conceiveth must begin with some new adjournment until
Candlemas term or the (nl thereof in respect of the nearness
of Christmas. And in the mean time your Lordships and ho
may advise both how to dissolve it in the best fashion, and fall
to consultation about his aftairs.

*******
" Another subject of this despatch is to let your Lordships
know that his Highness findcth the speeches uttered (whereof
} our Lordships sent him a bieviate, sent in a letter to me)
were so scandalous, reproachful, and intolerable, as his Highness
doth require your Lordships every one for his part to gather
particular notes and information of the words used and of the
authors who spake them ; for that his Highness doth conceive
that some of them reach very near to the point of treas(jn ; or
are at least so scandalous (as his Majesty is informed^ that he
thiuketh ho shall have just ground to call the speakers to
account for them."

312 EVENIXaS WITH A I^EVIEWEB.

One of these speakers was Wontwortli, son of Potcr
Wentworth who used to trouble Elizabeth in tlic same way ;
and it occurred to James that he might take a leaf out of
Elizabeth's book. For I find him about a week after send-
ing to the Council to know what evidence she had when she
pimished " this Wentworth's father," — and adding, witli
better logic than policy, that " seeing the Lower H(juse
were so quick and eager in producing every day new liberties
and privileges for themselves, he saw no reason but ho
ought to be as careful to keep the forms and customs which
his progenitors had used in matters falling between the
Lower House and them." Fortunately he seems to have
been content with his logical advantage ; for he was easily
persuaded to desist from the prosecution.

In such fashion, then, and in such temper on both sides,
did the King and his parliament part. So ended Salisbury's
project for reconciling their interests and removing all
causes of collision for ever. Instead of (JOO,OOU?. gift, by
which he had hoped to jmt the ]ving at ease for tlie present,
he had got only about 120,000/. Instead of a permanent
independent yearly support of 200,000/. he had got notliing.
But that was not the worst, nor nearly the worst. Had that
been all, it would have been a simple failure, leaving things
only as bad as they were before. But it did in fact leave
the discontents of the Commons aggravated and exasperated
by discussion and disappointment, and the King's finances
worse embarrassed than ever; because the not(jriety of his
necessities aiid the utter failure of tliis great effort to relieve
them, from wliich so mucli had been expected, left liim n(!t
only witliout money, but without credit. So tliat the tenns
on which tliey ])arted, tliough displeasing alike to ln»tli,
were infinitely to the disadvantage of the ]\ing. The
Commons had lost notliing; nothing at least tliat touclied
their particular pockets or fe(dings (ibr of the general evils
of a distracted government they came in of course for their
share). In sj)ite of tlieir uni'edressed grievances, they
could make nioiiev, l)uild houses, I'l'cd theinseJ V(js, clothe

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 313

themselves, marry and give in marriage, as merrily as ever.
But the King could not borrow 100,000Z. of the aldermen,
to pay his most pressing debts.

Poor old King ! It was a hard case, I admit, for a
divine-right monarch to digest. But I dare say it was his
own fault.

In part perhaps it was. A man whose tongue lay so
very near his heart as James's did, can hardly be supposed to
have managed such a case with perfect judgment. But the
(juestion for us is not who was to blame for the disaster, but
in what condition that disaster did actually leave the king-
dom. Was it not a case of real national embarrassment ? a
case to justify anxiety and alarm? a case which, as I said,
called all hands to the rescue ? And if there was a man
standing by who had watched the progress, who understood
the causes, foresaw the dangers, and thought he knew the most
likely remedies of that disease, is it necessary to suppose
that in ofiering his services for that end he was only moved
by vulgar ambition, and was basely misemploying his talents
and his time ?

AYhy do you ask me that ? I beg you will not confound
me svith those people to whom the more vulgar motive seems
always the more probable. There are such people, I know
— people who have so little experience in themselves of uu-
sellish motives that they hardly believe in the existence of
them, or at any rate think no explanation of an action so
incredible as that it sprung from the predominance of an
unselfish desire. Tell lawyer Scout that perhaps parson
Adams is thinking of his duty and not of his fee, — he will
receive the suggestion with a smile of superior incredulity ;
and there are doubtless more eminent members of the same
honourable profession who have a good deal of lawyer Scout
in them. But you cannot have less respect for them than I

34-1: FVEXIXGS WITH A BEVIEWEU.

have. And therefore let us leave them to their own natural
enjoyments. And tell me what had Bacon (for of course lie
is tlie man you are hinting at) been doing all this time?
AVhat part had he taken in these negotiations while they
were going on ?

The same part, so far as his path can be traced, in wliich
he has always appeared hitherto ; — tlie part of a mediator
and composer of the waters. But the notes whicli survive
of the proceedings are so scanty, and it is so difficult to
know what was merely formal and what was important, that
the most careful conclusions one can draw from them must
after all rest upon a very doubtful foundation. With the
original suggestion and proposition of the measure, I cannot
find that he had anything whatever to do. But after the
opening of the negotiation (which was taken up at first with
great good will, and the preliminaries conducted on tlio
part of the Commons witli much moderation and gooil
temper), his name appears in all the principal pr(jcecdings.
In the nice point of obtaining the King's leave to treat of a
composition for Wardships and Tenures (the first in which
tliere was any danger of a split), the management of the
proposition appears to have been entirely left to him, and to
liave been perfectly successful. His manner of doing that
we know, for we have a report of his speech preserved by
himself. Again, in preparing the schedule of grievances
(also a very tender point) he seems to liave taken a })ro-
minent part, and witli tlie full confidence and a})probation
of the House, until tliey fell fi)ul of tliat <langer(Mis (juestion
of Impositions, Of the jar wliich tliat })rodiiced, tlie I'nig-
jiients of the debates bear distinct evidence. And as Bacon
difiered from the majority of tlie (J(»nimons on the point of
law, it must have been impossible fu" him to take a leading
])art with tliem where that question was involved. And
accordingly he appears aft('r this chielly as a dissuadcr of
rash C(junsels ; interle'ring on one occasi(jn to moderate the
laiitrua're of an answer to a messaire J'nuii the Loi'd.s ; on

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 31 5

another to dissuade them from making a needless diflieiilty
about receiving messaires from the King or Council throu<2:h
their Speaker ; on a third, to deprecate a proposition for
flatly refusing all supply until they should first hear the
King's answer to all their grievances ; — in all which attempts
he seems to have been successful. Whether he took any part
in their petition to the King for liberty to discuss his right
to impose duties without consent of parliament, — or, as it
may rather be called, their remonstrance against being for-
bidden to discuss it,- — I cannot discover ; but after leave was
obtained, he spoke in defence of the King's right. After
the grievances were collected, he was one of a sub-committee
appointed to sort them and prepare some inducement or
preamble to the petition. And when the petition was ready,
he was selected " as their mouth and messenger " to present
it to the King.

Was that after the debate on the right of imposing, or
before ?

B.
A few days after.

Then the part he took in favour of moderation and in
defence of the King's prerogative did not lose him the con-
fidence of the House of Commons ?

Clearly not.

Then why should it lose liim mine? But liow did lie
steer througli the next session ; which from your account
must have been a trying one ?

Of that we know nothing whatever. The Journals of
tliat session are lost; and though there is a tolerably full
account of it in one of the Cotton MSS., it is condned to the

34G EVENINGS WITH A REVIE]VER.

things done and the questions resolved ; it gives no par-
ticulars of the debates and mentions no names.* As for
Bacon, his name is not mentioned anywhere in the accounts
of this session that I know of, except once in a private
letter. xVud that tells us nothing except that he was one
of some ten or twelve leading members of the Lower House
whom the King sent for one day, in a very irregular
manner, to expostulate with them about their procccdinL^s.
It was just after the Contract had — upon their refusal (as
it would seem) to vote any further supply, — been broki:'n
off, and when they came, James bluntly asked them whether
they believed that he was in w.:nt or not; to which question,
says the narrator, " when Sir Francis Bacon had begun to
answer in a more extravagant style than his Majesty did
delight to hear, he picked out Sir Henry Neville, and
commanded him to answer according to his conscience," etc.
This is all we hear concerning Bacon during this last
session; and it would not have been worth mentioning, were
it not that the modern meaning of tlie word " extravagant"
might lead a modern reader into a mistake. " Extravagant "
meant nothing more than indirect. It was obviously un-
desirable, as things then stood, that such a question should
be directly answered ; and Bacon would no doubt havo
contrived to throw some veil over the nakedness of it, if ho
had been allowed to go on.

Yes; I see no harm in that. But now for the drift of
all this. Y(ni thinlv, I suppose, that if Jjacon had bi'on
Lord Treasurer the busin('ss would have been better man-
aged ?

* Tliis was writton hofuro ^Ir. Gardiner's rliscovery of the notos of flio
(l:-1mt(s in that sio.-iun; wliich show, I lliiiik, clearly thai tiie iiiial lir, ai^h
wm (lie chuicc ami act et the (Joveriiiuiiit, ihnngh thi_y ha\<,' ii.> s;ill in
(luuhta.- 10 tlie liiiitivLS. J'ur a full aecmiutof t;ie wlailc iiri; tiatioii, \m iu.-u
V. ith the help oi' thn.-e notes, sec •■I,(jticrs ami l.ifc ol' JtaCoii," vcl. iv. cli.
.") and (). ']"iic aceonnt written here, wlicn I had oidy the printed j(rur:ial,s
fnr jny authority, is not (I think) nuhstuntially inaccurate, tlumuch viry
iiuperhu't.

EVENINGS WITH A liEVIEWEB. 347

I have little doubt of that. At any rate he thought he
could have done better, and would certainly have done
differently. What mistakes he might have made in other
ways, or what difficulties he might have found in the King's
humours, it is of course impossible to say. But in general
you will find that the measures and methods of proceeding
which turned out unfortunate were not those which he
advised. This, however, is not the point I was driving at.
I have no reason to suppose that he had anything to do with
the measures we have been speaking of either as persuader
or dissuader. No opportunity had been given him for
interfering either way. Nor had he been induced to change
his course in consequence of them. The meeting of parlia-
ment called him away from his studies ; the dissolution sent
him back to them. The change which I undertook to
account for did not take place till after Salisbury's death,
about a year and a half later.

But, stay ; how did the Government get on in the
meantime ?

Very badly. The emptiness of the Exchequer, the
shifts and perplexities of the Lord Treasurer, became the
common talk of the town. Ambassadors were told that they
must wait for their salaries. Pensioners were forced to tui-n
duns. The Paid's-walkers entertained themselves with
wondering how Salisbury would scrape together money
enough to provide the usual Chri>tmas festivities.

And what did Salisbury himself propose to do next ?

Salisbury appears to have been nearly at the end of liis
devices ; or, if he had any left, they do not seem to have

348 E VEXING S TV J Til A BEVIEWER.

succeeded any better. For at his death the onliuary annual
expenditure exceeded the ordinary annual revenue l>y
]()0,i)OOZ. ; and the debt had increased from 400,000/. to

50U,000Z.

And during that period (a year and a half I think you
said) Bacon had nothing to do with busiuess of state ?

Nothing beyond what fell to him as Solicitor-General.
Indeed wliile Salisbury lived he had no opening. Not but
tluit he would have gladly lent his services ; indeed, he made
offer of them ; but Salisbury for some reason or other
neglected to use them. So tliat he was still spending his
Lisure in carrying forward the " lustauratio," in writing
more essays, and in collecting and correcting his miscel-
laneous papers and speeches and law arguments.

Did he not try to make up to Sir Bobert Carr ?

If he did, all traces of the application are strangely
obliterated. But indeed, while Salisbury lived and con-
tinued at the head of affairs, it was not much that lie could
have done. The only chance of retrieving the King's affairs
A\as by such a change of policy as couM hardly have been
accomplislied without a change of persons. It was necessary
that the King should a])[)ear in an entirely dilferent cha-
lacter to liis suljjects, and that his subjects should fe(.'l
tliat the new character was his own, and that the one in
which he had last appeared was n<jt his own. The death
of Salisbury hapjiened opportunely and was the critical
moment. \^ James could but lunc been persuaded, and
been able, to seize tliat nioiiu'nt for an entire change in his
(i\\n ways, — if he could IVom that ]uoiiient have laid his
]'■ 'riner character asiih.' and shown hiiiiselt' a jh'W man. — he
jai^dit, I tiiink, haxc succeedeil. It wniild liave' been

EVENINGS WITH A REVTEWEU. 349

tliought that bis true nature bad been obscured till then by
bis minister, and appeared now in its natural lustre. Nor is
it impossible that a successful experiment of that kind miglit
really and permanently have changed him. For certainly
be would have felt more comfortable and more at home as
a man of the people than as a high-monarchy man. A
different creed would have agreed better with his real
feelings ; for all his anti-popular opinions seem to have
been doctrine, and doctrine only ; while his untaught sym-
pathies and natural impulses were always with the people
and human nature. You have seen a man whom accident
has made a dignitary, when nature meant him for a good
fellow?

Yes, and generally found him trying to supply his want
of natural dignity by superfluous starch ; and losing all the
love due to his good nature without procuring any of the
respect due to his office.

Well, that was just James's case. And I cannot help
thinking that if he had once tried the experiment of
wearing his prerogative a little more carelessly, he would
have found it so much more comfortable and becoming, that
he would have continued the fashion.

But if this was to be done, it must be done suddenly.
Op'iiortuni magnis conatilnis transitus rerum. It is in times
of change that new impressions may be wrought in so as to
last; let them once settle, and the new will never incorporate
Avith the old.

Now therefore was the time. And now once more was
Bacon tempted to step out of his course. Hitherto the very
few, and (as I must still maintain) the very modest, applica-
tions which he had made to the King in Ids own behalf, had
been merely for ordinary advancement in the regular course
of his profession. But upon Salisbury's death, it could nut
but occur to him, as it must surely occur to everybody wlio
now looks carefullv into the state of those times, that the

350 EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWEn.

King might have much more important use of him as a
Councillor of State than merely as a State lawyer. lie was
a modest man, it is true ; but in times of emergency modest
men become sensible of their wortii ; and it is not to be
supposed that Francis Bacon, armed as he was with all the
outward as Avell as all the inward accomplishments of a
statesman, could have looked on for above thirty years (he
was now fifty-two) at the doings of other men, and have seen
so many mistakes made and paid for, without feeling that he
could do better. For my own part, I believe that at this
crisis James had one thing to do, — and that was to make
Bacon his prime minister and do whatever he advised.
Bacon should have been to him what Burleigh was to Queen
Elizabeth ; and then the whole subsequent history of Eng-
land would have been quite different. — How say you ? Shall
we conclude that in such circumstances he was to blame for
wishing that the King would try him ?

Certainly not for wishing.

B.
For asking, then ?

That depends upon the manner of the askiiig. The
motive, I agree, we liave no right to call in question. And
to tell you a secret — (let no man hear us)- — indifference to
2)0ii:er is not in my ()})inion a virtue, or a sign of virtue, in a
man. Not to care aljoiit (jlory is a greatness; but not to
wish f<u' jvo/rtr, or to slnink from using all honoui'able means
t(j attain it, is an aig'umeiit, 1 fear, either of seliishness or of
2'usillanimity or of conscious inca})acity.

\yell,-tlien, for the iitanncr of the ask'ing. Be so good as
to read these two letters. The first was writti'ii within a
W(.'ek after Salisbury's (h.-ath. Th<' second has no date; but
evidently refers to the same occasion, and was probably

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB. 351

written about the same time. I want you to read them all
through ; both because I would have you judge for yourself,
and not depend upon my report, which may be suspected of
partiality ; and because it is the fashion to refer to such
letters as these, without quoting them, — or at most quoting
a few isolated expressions, — in evidence of what Coleridge
(who should have known better, only that I dare say he
knew nothing about it) calls the " courtly — alas the servile,
prostitute, and mendicant ambition " of Bacon's later life.

Is this it ? Vol, vi. p. 52. " To the King, immediately
after the Lord Treasurer's death ; 31st of T\[ay, 1012."
Duos this come out of Bacon's own collection ?

Out of the collection of drafts and copies which ho
kept for himself. Not out of that which he made to be pre-
served.

" It may please your cxoellent Majesty, —

"I cannot but endeavour to merit, considering your prevent-
ing graces ; which is the occasion of these few lines.

" Your Majesty hath lost a great subject and a great servant.
But if I shoidd praise him in propriety, I should say that he
was a fit man to keep things from growing worse, but no very
fit man to reduce things to be much better. For be loved to
have the eyes of all Israel a little too much upon 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 mcjre in operatlone than in o^^ere. And though he had fine
passages of action, yet the real conclusions came slowly on. So
that although your Majesty hath grave councillors and wortliy
]3ersons left, yet you do as it were turn a leaf, wherein if your
Majesty shall give a frame and constitution to matters before
you place the persons, in my simple judgment it were not amiss.
But the greater matter and most instant for the present is the
consideration of a parliament, for two effects ; the one for the
supply of your estate; the other for the better knitting of the
heaits of your subjects unto your Majesty, according to yuur

352 EVENINGS WITH A liEVIEWEn.

infinite merit ; for "both which, parliaments have boon and are
the ancient and honourable remedy.

" Now becanse I take myself to have a little skill in that
region, as one that ever affected that your Majesty might in all
your causes not only prevail, but prevail with satisfaction of the
inner man ; and though no man can say but 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 to 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 elocution,
or method, or any of those powei's, yet my offering is care and
observance; and as my good old mistTCSs 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 notliing), 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,

" i\ B."

Well, I must say this fits very well into your account of
the matter. And I see nothing that can be found fault with.
The disclaimer of pretensions is rather large ; but that is
only manners : a kind of polite way of putting them forward,
and I think not altogetlier insincere. Such disclaimers are
often suggested by a genuine emotion, even wlien they can-
not be sanctioned by the deliberate judgment. And no one
can deny tliat tlie object of the letter is constituti(»nal. Jhit
there is no aijplication i'or jdace or power here, lie merely
asks leave to offer some advice.

No. J>ut now read the next. — " To the ]ving," p. 51.

"It niay ])lcasc your excellent Mjijcst}', —
" My ])riiu;i}ial end Ixdiig to do your jMajcsty's service, 1
crave leave to make at this time to your ^bijesty tliis most

EVENIXGS WITH A r.E VIEWER. 353

humble oblation of myself. I may truly say with the Psalm,
MuJium incolafuit anima mea; for my life hath been conversant in
things wherein I take little pleasure. Your Majesty may havs
heard somewhat that my father was an honest man, and some-
what you may have seen of myself, though not to make any true
judgment by, because hitherto I have had only potestatem verho-
rum ; nor that neither. I was three of my yonng years bred
with an ambassador in France ; and since, I liave been an old
truant in the school-house of your Council-chamber, though on
the second form ; yet longer than any that now sitteth hath
been on the head form. If j'our Majesty find any aptness in me,
or if you find any scarcity in others, whereby you ma}- think it
fit for j'our service to remove me to business of state, — although
I have a fair way before me for profit (and by your Majesty's
grace and favour for honour of advancement), and that in a
course less exposed to the blasts of f( a-tune, — yet now that he is
gone quo virenie virtutibus certissimum exitium, I will be ready as a
chessman to be wherever your Majesty's royal hand shall set me.
Your Majest}' will bear me witness that I have not suddenly
opened myself thus far : I have looked on upon others ; I see
the exceptions ; 1 see the distractions ; and 1 fear Tacitus will
be a prophet, magis alii homives quam alii mores. I know mine
own heart ; and I know not whether God that hath touched my
heart with the affection may not touch y^our royal heart to discern
it. Howsoever I shall at least go on honestly in mine ordinary
course and supply the rest in prayers for you, remaining," d:c.

This is from the rough draft in his own hauJwritiug.

And now I have said nearly all I have to say in answer
to your questions at our last sitting. You now know what
the case was which drew him aside from the prosecution of
his great work, and made him desire once more to " meddle
in the King's causes." I undertook to convince you, not
that the course he took was the wisest he could have chosen,
but that the occasion was one in which a man who had the
public good at heart might easily doubt which course to
choose. Are you convinced ?

VOL. I. 2 A

354 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER.

I suppose I am. At least I do not see clearly why not. —
But before I go, tell me what was the result of this step of
bis. Did the King make any use of him after all ?

A good deal of use ; but (unluckily, as I think, for the
King himself) not the right use. He gave him employment
and audience, but not authority. Perhaps indeed he could
not have given him that without using a sterner resolution
than he had ever shown himself master of, — without be-
coming in fact a different man ; an experiment which it was
late to try.

However we had better leave this for another time. The
occasion opened new opportunities, and may therefore open
a new chapter. You are content for the present to admit
that in re-engaging himself in business of state. Bacon may
have been actuated by other motives than vulgar and venal
ambition ?

I am content,

He is now fifty-two years old. Has he done anything as
yet inconsistent with the character of an honest man and a
good patriot ?

Not that I know of. But I am taking his case entirely
upon your showing.

True ; but that is only because his accusers are silent.
In all the points upon which ]\[acaulay founds anything
like a definite charge, you have had the benefit of his own
statement. The previous charges you admitted were not
made good ; during the last ten years no charge is made.
Still therefore I claim for Bacon the benefit of general good

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 355

character; and if I find him hereafter doing anything which
may be traced with as much plausibility to a good motive
as to a bad one, I may still, if I like, suppose him to have
been actuated by the good motive.

Certainly, until it appears that good motives were less
familiar to him.

Which has not appeared yet.

Not upon your showing. And certainly I have nothing
to show against you.

Then you admit that, so far as we have gone, any one
who had rather believe that Bacon was an honest man than
a rascal, may, without violence to his own instincts or to
historical probability, indulge his inclination ?

Yes.

Then suppose we stop here for the present. For to those
who would as soon believe him a rascal as an honest man, I
have nothing to say. I know there are such men ; plenty of
them. There is not a more universal attribute of low minds
than a disposition to be pleased when anything occurs to
damage the character of an eminently great or good man.
A discovery that Wilberforce had been seen drunk, or the
Duke of AVellington running away, would at this moment be
received with delight by thousands. But as these are per-
sons whom I do not wish to be on the same side with, I
shall take no pains to convert them. If all men who would
be glad to think that Bacon was in the main a virtuous man
can be brought to think so, I shall be quite contented ; —
provided always that they are brought to think to by fair

356 EVENINGS WITH A nEVIEWER.

means and upon just grounds. For I am far from wishing
either to believe myself, or to persuade any one else to
believe, that he was what he was not; or to pay idolatrous
honour to intellectual power, by representing it as incom-
patible with moral weaknesses or depravities with which it
is not incomjDatible. I should no more think of pleading
the intellectual gilts for which Bacon has credit with all
men, as an argument that he had no faults, than of urging
the beauty of Cleopatra as a presumption that she was
chaste. We know very well that the highest intellectual
powers, as well as the most perfect corporal beauty, are often
joined with moral deformity. And though we may wish it
were not so, yet as long as it is so, no true man can wish to
think that it is not. But there is a certain form of beauty
in the human countenance which I do believe to be incom-
patible with deformity of mind ; and w here there is an
apparent exception, I shall always be glad to see it removed.
In like manner there are certain forms and manifestations
of intellectual greatness which I believe to be unattainable
without moral goodness ; and where a case is quoted in
which the greatness seems to be there and the goodness
seems not to be there, I cannot but wish to find that there
is some mistake. And this I think we ought all to feel in
the case of Bacon.

Ko doubt the moral character of the man will more or
less modify and guide the working of his intellectual faculty.
Therefore whatever reveals to us the one, must reveal some-
thing of the other, if we can read the signs rightly. But I
doubt whether the distinction is of much practical use ; for
those \\ho cannot see any traces of goodness in a man's way
of living will hardly recognize them in his way of thinking ;
and such men will deny that Bacon's intellect has that
character which you ascribe to it. However I think you
will find most j)eople prone enough to think men good whom
they feel to be great. The fault lies generally on that side.
It is only the disbelievers in goodness and greatness who

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 357

rejoice when the characters of good and great men are
damaged. They are impatient of men's reputation for
virtues ; not of the virtues themselves ; for in them they do
not believe. — At any rate I can answer for myself in the
case of Bacon. I would certainly much rather believe him
an honest man than a rascal.

EVENING THE TENTH.

Now I suppose we may go on with Macaulay again.

I forget where we left him. Eead the last sentence over
again.

" Unhappily he was at that veiy time employed in per-
verting those laws to the vilest purposes of tyrann}'. When
Oliver St. John was brought before the Star Chamber for main-
taining that the King had no right to levy benevolences "

Oh no ! we are not ready for that yet. I cannot consent
to skip the addle parliament. It was a very important
feature in James's reign ; a great fact ; and has a great deal
to do with Bacon.

The addle parliament !

Yes. The parliament which met in the beginning of
April 1614, and was abruptly dissolved in June without
passing a single act. It makes but a slight figure in our
histories ; I suppose on that account. But though it did
nothing, it signified very much, as all great failures do.

360 EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB.

That failure, with all the circumstances of it, must have
entered as a most material element into all James's subse-
quent calculations ; and must by no means be forgotten by
us if we would pretend to understand and judge his sub-
sequent conduct. — But we had better take up the subject
where we left off.

A.
That was with the death of Salisbury.

Yes. The King had " as it were turned a leaf." He had
to choose a new prime minister, which in this case was
almost as much as forming a new administration. Whom
had he to choose from ? He had in his council the Lord
Chancellor ; a man bred under Elizabeth, but now nearly
worn out, chiefly occupied with the business of his court,
and never much of a politician. He had the Earl of
Northampton ; a man in high repute for learning and
talent, especially as a writer (being indeed a great artist
w'ith his pen according to the fashionable taste of the day) ;
but unpopular from a suspected leaning to Popery ; and not
a man of any real judgment or ability (so far as I can make
him out), nor patriotic in his ends, nor scrupulous in his
methods of pursuing them. He had Robert Carr, now Lord
llochester ; an inexperienced and uninstructed youth, given
to pleasure, greedy of gain, intoxicated by his sudden eleva-
tion, disliked by the people because he was a Scotchman
and getting all good things, and having an interest in tlie
King's affections which gave him an influence over his
counsels greater probably than the King was aware of. The
rest were eitlier instruments, or cyphers, or quiet people who
minded only their own business, and did not affect to inter-
fere with the management of the state. By far the best
head in James's council was his own. And a very sufficient
head it would have been if it had been steadily ap})]ied t(j
its work, li it had beeji enough to liave sound ojiinions as
to the best method of ])roceeding in each conjuncture, he
would have made (as I believe) a very politic King. But

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 3G1

he was far too easy a master both to himself and to those
about him. He was for ever excusing himself from follow-
ing his own judgment, — from doing what he would have
advised any one else to do in the same situation, — when
it was opposed by his favourites or disagreeable to himself;
and on that account, in such times as lie had fallen upon, —
with a debt of 500,000/., an annual deficiency of 160,000/.,
and a House of Commons newly awakened to a sense as well
of his necessities as of their own powers, and determined to
make the most of their advantage, — he was no fit man to be
his own prime minister.

And Bacon ?

Bacon was still only Solicitor-General. It is true that
he became now a more important person, because the King-
encouraged him to offer advice on the greater matters of
State, listened freely to him, and was I think generally
disposed to act uj)on his suggestions. I say disposed to act ;
for between the disposition to do a thing and the doing of
it, there M'as unfortunately in James's case a great gap.
And Bacon was not in a position to do more than give the
suggestion ; he was not near enough to watch and guide the
working; of it in the Kino-'s mind, or to control the execu-
tion. Now no man can fairly be held answerable for the
fruit even of his own counsels, unless he have o[)portunity
both to answer objections and object to alterations, and also
to criticise final determinations ; a privilege which Bacon
certainly had not now, and can hardly be said to have had
afterwards when he was at his highest ; for the final deter-
minations were always fallen by James himself: often when
he was far away from his council ; not unfrerj[uently without
inviting any second communication or leaving room for any
remonstrance. It must often therefore have been in the
power of a subtle or a favourite courtier to defeat the policy
of the council ; and Bacon, you are to remember, was of the
council ; not of the court.

362 EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB.

When he was Lord Chancellor he must have had liberty
of access as often as he wished.

Why, yes. I suppose the King was always ready to
receive a communication from him, and generally to see
him if he desired it. But the King spent very little of his
time in London ; mucli of it a good way off. And at any
rate Bacon was not living in the Court ; he could not be
near the King at his meals and recreations ; and those are
the seasons when the influence of a courtier can be most
effectually used. ■

But where was I ? — Oh, as to the influence of the cour-
tiers,— I met the other day with a little thing whicli rather
confirms what I just said, and seems to show that the
inconvenience of this Court influence had already been per-
ceived and felt. In the autumn of 1G12, not long after
Salisbury's death, Bacon published an enlarged edition of
his essays. Of these essays there is a fair transcript in the
hand of one of his secretaries (evidently made before they
were published) which contains a sentence that you will not
find in the printed copy. It is in the Essay on Counsel,
where, after spealcing of the true use of counsel to Kings,
he notices tlie inconveniences which have been found in it.
" For which inconveniences (he adds) the doctrine of Italy
and the practice of Franco in some kings' times have intro-
duced cabinet councils, — a remedy worse than the disease."
There the printed copy stops. But the 3IS. goes on — (be
interested, for not a soul knows this besides ourselves) — the
]\IS., I s;iy, goes on thus: — "which hath turned 3Ietis
the wife intn 31ctis the mistress; that is, councils of state
to which })rijiccs ;ir(; mai'ried, to councils of gracious per-
sons, reconniKMidcd chiclly by flattery or aflection." — It is
easy to guess why he struck that senten(;e out.

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 363

He was thinking of Eochester, I suppose ?

No doubt : the application would have been too obvious
and personal.

It should be put in again now ; for it explains the mean-
ing of that sentence, which I never understood before ; the
cabinet council being in our days precisely such a council
of estate as he did not mean.

Precisely that kind of council from which, by the word
"cabinet," he meant to distinguish it. Yes, I think it
should be reinstated ; within brackets. — But whither are we
wandering ? We left James labouring under his debt and
deficiency ; with a very difficult and delicate task before
him, and a very indifferent body of confidential advisers to
help him in the execution of it. We left Bacon putting
himself a little more forward than belonged strictly to his
place, for the purpose of recommending the King to lose no
time in calling another parliament, and offering all the help
which he could render. Unfortunately, upon this vital
question of calling a parliament there were divisions in the
council. The Earl of Northampton, who from his age, his
rank, his reputation, his abilities, and especially from his
influence with Eochester (an influence natural enough in
itself and greatly increased by Eochester's interest in his
niece, — for that unhappy business was already on foot), was
now become one of the most powerful men in the kingdom,
is known to have been strongly against it. Eochester him-
self cannot be supposed to have had many ideas of liis own
on so difficult a subject. The King had id<'as enough, and
probably very good ones. But with a council so constituted
he had very imperfect opportunities of knowing the truth,
and with so fresh a recollection of recent disappointments

364 EVENING^ WITH A BEVIEWEIi.

and disgusts, would naturally incline to the opinion of those
who promised to set his affairs straight without risking an
appeal to that troublesome assembly. In such circum-
stances, one cannot wonder that he resolved not to try a
parliament, or at least put off the resolution to try one, till
all other methods of rectifying his estate should be put in
force. It happened that his case could ill bear any such
delay. Delay itself was bad, and perhaps the manner in
which the interval was employed made it still worse. But
kings and councillors have often made mistakes for which
there was less excuse.

Well : so it was to be. The consideration of a parlia-
ment was suspended for the present ; and the council were
set hard at work to find all possible means of abating the
expenditure and improving the revenue. Upon this tliey
were assiduously employed for the first year ; Northampton
taking the lead in council, and Bacon being among the
most active of the sub-commissioners apj^ointed to assist.
We need not trouble ourselves with the details ; but the
sum total of their year's work (as I find by a memorandum
of Sir Julius Cossar's, dated 18th ]\Iarch 1612-13) was an
increase of tlie ordinary revenue by abatements and im-
provements amounting in all to 35,776/., and a collection
(from the coming in of debts, from fines, forfeitures, the sale
of land and of baronetcies, and other extraordinary items)
of 309,681/.

And tliat to supply an annual dc^ficiency of 100,000/. (I
think you said) ; — upon wliat total of revenue?

Under 450,000/. ; wliicli was the total, according to
Hume, in 1(517.

To sup[)ly an annual ildicii'iiey then ('(|ual to more than
a tliird of the total rcvonuo. and to pav off a debt of
500,00(J/. — Xo ])r(jspoct of a cure, tlnai ; only a mitigation
of the painful symptoms.

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 305

Aucl no very considerable mitigation. The leak let in
about four quarts while the pump threw out one. One good
effect however this report must have had. It must have
made it clear that, at whatever risk, a parliament must be
tried ; for though it might still be deprecated by some of
the councillors and courtiers whose fortunes fared no worse
but perhaps better for the distresses of the State, and who
thought that the vessel would float long enough for them,
yet the manifest hopelessness of remedy from any other
quarter must have carried the question against them ; and
accordingly it was determined some time in the course of
this year — (the precise date of the final resolution I have not
been able to ascertain, but it was as late as July) — that a
parliament should be summoned with as little delay as
possible. The result of this step was indeed (as the council
had reported to the King the year before) " very uncertain ; "
probably more uncertain now than it was then. Never was
there a measure of State which required more boldness and
yet more delicacy in the handling ; and perhaps never a
council of State less favourably constituted for handling it
well ; for it was as easy to go \M'ong through too great an
anxiety to further it as through too much obstinacy in
opposing it : too much faith and too little might be equally
fatal. On one side there was Northampton, who had so little
hope from a parliament, that he seems to have been not only
against its being tried, but desirous that it shonld miscarry.
On the other side were a party of parliament men, who out
of confidence in their own experience and influence with the
Lower House were rash enough to undertake tlie manage-
ment of it, and to engage that if the King would follow their
advice, his business should be carried to his satisfaction.
At the head of these was Sir Henry Neville, an able and
public-spirited man, with large and just views as to the state
of the times, with sympathies well balanced bctwecai the
people and the Crown, — earnest for the redress of grievances,
yet hoping to be made Secretary of State, — and possessing.

366 EVENING S WITH A BEVIEWER.

it would seem, miieli influence over Rochester, wliich was
the best opening for influence over the King. Several
memorials and advices of his are extant, which refer to this
period ; and it cannot be doubted, I think, that his ends
were wise and patriotic. But the case was new and diflicult,
and the event proved that ho did not thoroughly understand
his ground. He knew the harbour ^^hich was to be steered
for, and in which it would be good for all parties, and satis-
factory to all parties, to arrive ; but he had not thoroughly
fathomed the depths and shallows of popular judgment in
such an assembly as the Lower House had now become.
The sands at the bottom were rapidly and secretly shifting,
and the currents at the top were shifting Avith them. It
was not either ancient experience or recent experience that
could tell a man where the safe course now lay ; but only
the combination of experiences botli old and new with that
prophetic sagacity which is derived from a profound insight
into the nature of man, and is reserved for original genius of
the highest order. It was no great blame therof<jre to him
and his associates if they ran the vessel aground ; nor any
great blame to James that he took them for his pilots. But
I think he had the choice of a better.

That Bacon, had he been prime minister, could have
carried the business through successfully, it is of course im-
possible to say. But I have evidence to prove that, though
aiming at the very same ends (for I do not know that he would
have objected to any one of the measures which Sir Henry
Neville proposed to carry), he would liave }iroceede(l in a
different manner; and that too from an apprehension of
danger in the very quarter wliero the event proved that it
really lay. A\'e have sfcn liow strongly he disapproved of
the C(»nt)-act-pf»licy whicli was ])nrsued with tlie last parlia-
ment, and how strongly lie advised that no time should be
lost in calling anotlicr. And yon would like to know what
course he would liav had tlio King take with it in order to
recover the ground wliieli In; had lost ?

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 367

I should like very much indeed to know that. It ought
to be worth all the speculations of all the historians put
together. If we had a Bacon among us now to write the
history of those times, it would supersede all others ; and
yet he could not know nearly so much about them as the
real Bacon did then. But it must be what he really did
advise ; not what you suppose he would.

Surely. Though for want of evidence I am sometimes
obliged to guess at his views, I hope I always report them
as guesses. I report nothing as his but what I have
historical evidence for. In the present case you shall have
his own words, which may still be seen under his own hand.

Here is a letter addressed to the King, at what exact
date I do not know ; but sometime between September 1612
and December 1613 ; most likely in the spring or summer
of 1613. But for our present purpose it is not material to
fix the exact date ; it is enough to know that it was written
while the question of calling a parliament was still under
consideration. You may as well read it through, for it has
never been printed.

How comes that ? Has it been inaccessible till lately ?

Not at all. The original is among the Cotton manu-
scripts in the British Museum ; and there is a copy in the
Lansdowne collection ; both of which are entered in the
general index under Bacon's name.

" It may please your excellent Majesty,

" Before your Majesty resolve with your Council concerning
a parliament, mine incessant care and infinite desire that your
Majesty's affairs may go well hath made me in the case of Eliliu,

368 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER.

who thongli he was the inferior amongst Job's counsellors, yet
haith of himself that he was like a vessel of new wine, that
could not but burst forth in uttering his opinion.

" And this which I shall write I humbly pray your ^Majesty
may be to yourself in private. Xot that I shall ever say that in
your Majesty's ear which I Avill be either ashamed or afraid to
speak openly ; but because perhaps it might be t^aid to me after
the nianuer of the censure of Themistoele.s, 'Sir, your words
rerj^uire a city ; ' so to me : ' You forerun : your words rec^uire a
greater place.' Yet because the opportunity of your iMajesty's
most urgent occasion flieih awaj*. I take myself suihciently war-
ranted by the place I hold, joined with your Majesty's particular
trust and favour, to write these lines to your Majesty in private."

Y^oii see therefore that this letter has a peculiar value, as
containing Bacon's own private and original opinion. What
a man writes or speaks concerning matters in which a reso-
lution has been already taken by others or in concert with
them, does not necessarily indicate his own personal opinion.
Ho may be only making tlie best of a course which lias been
chosen against bis judgment and advice. But wliere a man
goes out of his way to offer his opinion in private upon
matters which are still under consultation, and that too witli
a view to influence the decision, there we may be sure we
have his own genuine views. There is nothing to restrain
him from recommending exactly what he thinks best.

Very true. And 1 see also how unjust it is to hold
Bacon responsible for the measures of the Government,
wlien lie could not so much as offer an opinion about them
witlunit an ajiology and a re(juest that it should not be
divulged. Tlie '•'place lie hehl " was still Solicitor-General,
was it not ?

I thiidc so. Jle Ix'Came Attorney-General in October;
and J sliould guess tliat tliis was written earlier; but I
cannot be sui'e. You obsei'v<' a]s(j liow stronulv he is im-

jf^VEXTXGS WITH A JREVTEWEI?. 369

prossed with the critical character of the time ; the iirr^ency
of the occasion, and the opportunity flying away. One
iiiight indeed, witliout this evidence, have given him credit
for that motive. You see, however, that it is no comment
of mine, but a fact.

Certainly. Well, let us see what his views are.

" The matter of parliament is a great problem of estate, and
deserveth apprehenisioiis and doubts. But yet I pray your
IMajesty remember that saying, Qui timide rogat docet negarc.
For I am still of that opinion (which I touched in general in
my former letter to your Majesty), that above all things youi-
IMajesty should not descend bebjw yourself; and that those
tragical arguments and (as the schoolmen call them) ultimities
of persuasions whicli ^Ycre used last parliament should for ever
be altolished ; and that your ]\[ajesty should proceed with yonr
parliament in a more familial', but yet a more princely
manner."

]\[ark that paragraph well, for it is the groundwork of
the whole advice. The " former letter " I suppose to be one
dated 18th September, 1G12, in which Bacon urges the
King not to let '"' these cogitations of want any ways trouble
or vex his mind," nor be tempted, " in respect of the hasty
freeing of his estate, to any means or degree of means which
carrieth not a symmetry with his majesty and greatness ; "
and goes ou to pass a severe censure upon that ostentatious
display of his necessities and those shifts to relieve them, of
which Salisbury was the author. At all hazards and in
spite of all inconveniences to preserve before the world the
face of confidence and majesty was Bacon's constant advico,
both now and afterwards when it was much more difficult to
do. The tone of his counsel reminds one of that inspiriiig
speech of Faulconbridge to King John —

"But wlierefore do you droop? why look you sad?
Let not the world see fear and sad mistrust
Govern the motion of a bingly t^ye.
Bo great in act as you have lieen in tliought.

VOL. I. 2 !•!

370 EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWEB.

So shall inferior ej^es,

That liorrow their behaviours from the great,
Grow great by your example," &c., &c.

The worst of it was that James had now not only to preserve
this appearance, but to recover it. And how was that to bo
done ?

A.
Let us see.

" All therefore which I shall say shall bo reduced to two
heads.

" First, that the good or evil effect likely to ensue of a
parliament resteth much upon the course which your
Majesty shall bo pleased to hold with your parliament;
and that a parliament simply in itself is not to be
doubted.
" Secondly, what is the course which I would advise were
held as safest from inconvenience and most eilectual
and likel}'' to prevail.
"In both which parts your Majesty will give me leave t<>
write not curiously, but briefly; for I desire that what I write
in this argument may be nUi'il minus quam verba.
" For the first my reasons are : —

1. I do not find .since the last parliament any new action of
estate amongst your Majesty's proceedings that has lieen harsh
or distasteful : and therefore seeing the old grievances (having
been long lu'cached) cannot but wax dead and flat, and that
there has l)een no new matter either to rul> up and revive the
old or to give other cause of discontentment, I think the case
much amended t(.) your ^Majesty's advantage. It is true tburo
have been I'rivy Seals, but it is as true they were never so
gently either rated or pressed. And besides, Privy Seals br
(fver thought rather an attractive than a repercussivo to
Biil'sidies."

I do not know exactly how the law stood with regard to
I'rivy S(,'als, or wliat was tho limit of the King's })ower to
borrow Jiionoy in tliat way. JJut a ]>rivy seal was in fact an
f)rd(;r served upon ;iii iiii'iividual to advance a specilied sum
of money to the Iviiig upon coiidllion ol' rcjiavmcnt within a
specilied time, whicii ()rd<'r he was i^ound (dlher by law nr

EVENIXGS WITH A EEVIEWER. 371

custom to obey. I suppose it was a relic of the ancient
arbitrary authority of the Crown, not yet formally taken
away. The issue of Privy Seals was an indication that the
exchequer wanted replenishing ; and it was thought better
to replenish it by subsidies, — that is, by a common tax
Avliich fell equally upon all, — than to force the Crown to use
those arbitrary powers which it still retained and the burden
of which fell chiefly upon the rich ; the rich having the
power of taxation in their hands, and being very willing to
relieve themselves at the expense of the people, however
chary they might be of relieving the King.

" 2. The justice upon my Lord Sanquir hath done your
Majesty a great deal of right ; showing that your Majesty ia
fixed iu that resolution,

Tros Tijriusque miJu nullo discrimine agetur,

which certainly hath rectified the spleen- side, howsoever it Lc
with the liver."

Lord Sanquir was a Scotch nobleman, whose eye had
been put out by a fencer five years before. In revenge
(which he had cherished all that time) he procured a man
to murder him. Great pains were immediately taken to
apprehend him and procure evidence. Upon his trial he
confessed his guilt, and was hanged. The hanging of a
Scotchman, and a Scotch nobleman, — especially as his d( -
nieanour at his trial moved general pity, — was an instance
of impartiality for which the English public would hardly
have given James credit, — so jealous as they were of his
over-[)artiaiity to his countrymen. — Well ?

"3. Let it not offend your ^lujcsty if I say tlie Eai-ls (>f Suli-
liiuy and Dnnl'ur luive taken a great deal of envy fVimi yon ai^l
Carried it into the other AvorlJ. and left unto your ^Majesty a
iiist diveisiiin of many discontouts.

"1. That opposition which w;is the last parliament to }'our

372 EVENIXGS WITH A LEVJEWKR.

i\Iajesty's Lusiiiess, as much as was not ex piiris nafiiralihns \n\t
out of party, I conceive to l)e now much weaker than it was,
and that party almost dissolved. Yelverton is won ; Sandes is
fallen off; Crew and Hyde stand to 1)6 Serjeants; Brocke is
dead ; Nevell hath his hopes ; Uarkley I think will lie respective ;
Martin hath money in his purse; Dudley Digges and Holys are
yours. Besides, they cannot hut find more and more the vanily
of that popular course ; specially your Majesty having carried
yourself with that princely temper towards them, as not to
persecute or disgrace them, nor yet to use or advance them.

" 5. It was no marvel the last parliament, men heing pos-
sessed witli a hargain, if it hred in them an indisposition to
give; liotli hecause tlie hreaking left a kind of discontent, and
hesides liargain and Gift are antitheta, as the Apostle sj)eaket]L
of Grace and Works; and hovv.soever they distinguished Supjtlv
and Support in words, yet they commixed in men's hearts, and
the entertaining of the thougiits of the one did cross and was a
disturbance and impediment to the otlier.

" 6. Lajstly, I cannot excuse him that is gone of an artificial
animating of tlie Negative; which infusion or influence now
ceasing 1 have lietter hope."

]\Tark again tlio Inst paragraph but ono, as contuijiing
anot]i(3r esseiitial feature of Jkicon's ])()licy. It was not
merely tlio loss of majesty in his peo})le's eyes (whicli coiiM
not but follow wlicn lie began to disj)ute aI)out bargains
with tliem) tliat \\'as to bo (h^precated. If it had been tin!
readiest way to disembarrass the exchequer, the disembar-
rassment would indeed ]\a\c been ill })ur(diasc(l at tliat })rice.
But it was not the way. On the contrary, by setting tlu'iu
on to make specific bargains, you put them further off from
making tliosc contributions wliieli were really want(.'d. I'o
conclude sucli a bargain as would liave made tlio Crown ami
tli(! p('()pl(3 inilejieiident of eacli otlu'r i'or tlie future, was a
ihintf not 1o licwislied even if it had be(;n pi'aclicable. And
by once fcacliing tlu'in to look for a quid pro quo in flnit
matt(tr; bv t<'ac!iii:g lluiii to expect in I'clui-n foi' caidi vole
(d" sujijily some puiiiciilar boon from the Crown of cor-
jcsjionding vabu' ; you led tlican away from the consiilera-

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWED. 373

tion of their true function, which was to furnish the g-overn-
nieut with the means of governing well ; so to maintain the
Crown that the Crown might be able to maintain the people.
For certainly the duties which the King owed to his subjects
were not of a nature to be appraised and reduced to a value
in money, ^yhat they were worth was not what they miglit
be sold for, but what it might cost to get them done. There-
fore how^ever it might be desirable to bestow largely upon
the people particular boons of pecuniary or other relief, the
better to quicken their affection and strengthen their con-
fidence, yet to offer these by way of equivalents for sub-
sidies was utterly wrong, and tended to defeat its own pur-
pose. When Queen Elizabeth consented to revoke a long
list of monopoly licenses, did she ask for another subsidy in
consideration of the value given aw^ay ? No ; she let them
drop from her hand like a thing taken up by mistake vvliich
did not belong to her. And when the Commons insisted
upon coming to thank her, did she tell them how grateful
they ought to be, and how large a supply they ought to
vote ? No ; she told them it was herself that should have
thanked them for having informed her of the error, Tneir
subsidies she valued as the measure of their affection and as
the means of better discharging the duties Siie owed them :
for she desired to reign no longer than she might reign with
tlieir loves, — to live no longer than she might see their
prosperity.

" Aiid as I am that person " (she went on) " that still yet
under God hath delivered you, so I trust by the almighty power
of God that I shall still ho his instrument to preserve you from
envy, peril, dishonour, shame, tyranny, and oppression,— partly
by means of your intended helps, which we take very acceptably
because it manifesteth the largeness of your love and loyalties
unto your Sovereign. Of myself I must say this; I was never
any greedy, scraping grasper, nor a strait fastdiolding Prince,
nor yet a waster. My heart was never set on wurldly goods, but
only for my subjects' good. What you do bestow on mo I will
not hoard it up, but receive it to bestow on you again. Yea,
mine own properties I count yours, to be expended for your
good. Therefure render unto them from me, I beseech you. 3lr.

374 EVENINGS WITH A nEVIEWER.

Speaker, such thanks as you imagine my heart yicldeth but my
tongue cannot express."

That was no doubt the style in which Bacon would have
had it done, if James had been equal to the part.

But I wanted you to remark that passage in the letter,
the rather because this point was not attended to ; and the
not attending to it was a chief cause of tlie miscarriage of
the business.

Well ; so mucli for tlio grounds upon which he hopes for
better success with a new parliament ; or ratlier does not
despair of good from it. Now we come to his second
division.

"For the course I wish to he held, I most humbly beseecli
your Majesty to pardon the liberty and siui[)licity whicli I sliall
use. I shall distribute that which I am to say into four pro-
positions. The first is —

"1. That your Majesty do for this parliament put off the
person of a merchant or contractor, and rest upon tiic })('rsou i)f
a King, Certainly when I lieard the overtures hist parliaini-nt
carried in such a strange figure and idea as if your Maj-sty
should no more (fur matter of prufit) have needed your subjects'
help ; nor your subjects in that kind should no more liave needed
your graces and benignity, — methought, besides the difliculty (in
next degree to an impossibility), it was anhaoJis snpiottia, and
almost contrary to the very frame of a monaichy, and tliose
original obligations which it is God's will sliuuld intercede
Ijctween King and subjects."

— Surely I have seen that before. I thought you said none
of this was in print.

I quoted it at our hist meeting. But never mind ; it will
bear a second reading.

Yes; it seems to come out of tin; drpllis.

" IJesides as things now stand, your .Alajesty liatli recrivei!
iniinife ]irejudice by tlie coiih' ijUrnct' ol' llie new J nsi iiicl ii in.-,
Joi- till' ( 'ourt of Waul,--. Foi- m-w it is alnn'st made jaiMii

EVJiNINOS WITH A HE VIE WEB. 375

that tho profits of the Wards being husbanded to the best
advantage (which is utterly untrue) yet amounteth to a small
matter; and so the substance of your bargain extremely dis-
valued."

The Wardships, you remember, formed a principal item
iu the Great Contract. The improvement in consequence of
the new Instructions appears to have been very considerable
compared with the total revenue from that source ; but tho
total was not much. For, if I may trust a schedule entitled
" improvements," in Sir Julius C;esar's handwriting, the
actual increase in the revenue from Wardships in the year
after Salisbury's death was 20,000Z, But in the general
fables of receipts for the two or three years following, tho
total annual revenue from them is set down as only 25,000Z.
Now Salisbury, iu IGIO, had asked 100,000^. of annual sup-
port for giving them up.

" 2. My second proposition is that your Majesty make this
parliament but as a coup cVessaij, and accordingly that your
]\Iajesty proportion your demands ami expectation. For as
tilings were managed last parliament, we are in that case, o])tima
illscipUua mala dediscere. Until your Majesty have tuned your
instrument you will have no harmony. J, for my part, think it
a thing inestimable for your Majesty's safety ami service, that
you once part with your parliament with love and reverence.
The proportions I will not now descend into ; but if tho
payments may be quickened, there is much gotten."

There, again, is a principal point wliich was not provided
for. If the King would recover his proper position and
dignity in the eyes of his people, it was necessary to avoid
not only the appearance of solicitude while tlie business was
g(jing on, but of disappointment in case it went ill. ^Ve
agreed, I think, the other night, that too sudden a discovery
of the growing dependence of the Crown upon the Commons
would have been dangerous to tho State. The tendency in
that direction was indeed inevitable. It is probably no ex-

3t6 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWEn.

aggeratiun to say that the Crowu was already dependent
upon the Commons ; that is, they had it in their power to
withhold from the King- the means of carrying on the govern-
ment, and thereby to bring him to their own terms ; not in-
deed absolutely or at once ; but if they chose to persevere
in refusing supplies until the conditions they demanded were
complied with, to those conditions he must have come at
last. But though this was the fact, it was a fact not yet
declared ; and most desirable it was that for the present it
should be disguised from popular observation. It was fit
therefore that the King should act as if that assistance were
not necessary to him which the Commons might con-
stitutionally refuse. He must in fact be prepared to do
without it, and let it be seen that he was so prepared.
Bacon saw that to produce this impression was now tlio
King's first object ; a sine qua non ; that if he succeeded in
that it would be enough, though he succeeded in nothing
else; and therefore that his true policy was to carry matters
so that the hope of contribution might not seem to be a
principal motive for calling the parliament, nor any dis-
appointment in that respect a motive for proroguing it ; but
to treat it as a thing comparatively immaterial, which was
not essential to his purposes and did not affect his prucecd-
ings. How he proposed to effect this you will see presently.
But what I want you to remark here is the importance whi -h
he attaches to the partiiKj between the King and his [lar-
liament. That the King should "once })art witli liis par-
liament with love and reverence" he iioMs a thing of
"inestimable importance to his safety and service;" and
therefore urges him so to proportion liis expectations as at
all events not to be put out by failure; — a piece of advice
wliich wh('thci' the King a])[»roV(Ml or not i tlo not know ;
but certainly he did n(»t succeed in acting uj)on it.

1 hope you are sure all this time that tlie Iving'^ eaUM
was a gooil one ; or cl.^'; —

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 377

I tbiuk the King's cause, so fer as Bacon tried to furthor
it, was good. I think it was good that the framework of
the constitution should be kept up, and repairs and reforms
introduced gradually from within, — hy autliority, not against
it. What might have been done by a king of ideal wisdom
and magnanimity, I do not undertake to say. Such a king
might possibly have found means to lay his power quietly
down, to make over his revenue to the disposal of parliament,
and resign his own functions in trust to a body of constitu-
tional advisers holding their office during the pleasure of the
House of Commons, The experiment would have been
hazardous, and I doubt whether history has an instance that
can be pronounced successful of sovereign power voluntarily
abdicated before its time. To the largest experiment of that
kind that I know of in modern times, — certainly the most
praised,— we owe the constitution of the United States of
America as it now is ; but I do not think the issue can be
pleaded in favour of it. And is it not true that the greatest
reforming governors liave all taken a different course ? — But
whatever an ideal king might have done, it is clear enough
that no such thing could have been got out of King James.
And whether Bacon was right or wrong, there can be no
doubt that his heart's wish was (and he thouglit it the wish
of a true patriot) that the King should not give away his
power from himself, but keep it and use it for tlie good of
his peo})le. If he is to be censured on this point, he must bo
censured for thinking so, not for acting as if he thought so.

I think indeed he w^as much given to standing upon the
old ways.

Yes, till he could see which way to go. But no man
knew better that lie must go on,— But have we not stood
long enough ourselves ? Siippose you go on.

378 EVENINGS WITH A RE VIE WEB.

" And if it be said that his Majesty's occasions will not endure
tliesc proceedings gradatha ; yes, surely. Nay 1 am of opinion
tliat what is done for liis Majesty's good as wtdl hy the ini})rove-
nient of his own as by the aid of Ids people, it must he done per
(jradus and not per saltum ; for it is the soaking rain and not the
tempest that rclieveth the gromid.

" 3. My third proposition is that this parliament may Lc a
little reduced to the more ancient furm (fur 1 account it hut a
form) which was to voice the parliament to he fur some other
l)usiness of estate and not merely f<jr mcmey ; but that to come
in upon the bye, whatsoever the truth be. And let it not bo
SLiid that this is but dancing in a net, considering the King's
wants have been made so notorious; for I mean it not in point
of dissimulation but in point of majesty and honour; that the
people may have somewhat else to talk of and not wholly of the
King's estate ; and that parliament-meu may not be wholly
possessed with those thoughts; and that if the king should have
occasion to break up his parliament suddenly, there may be
some more civil colour to do it. AVhat shall be the cause of
estate given forth ad poji'thnn ; whether the opening or increase
of trade (wherein I meet with the objection of Im})ositionb, but
A et I conceive it may be to accommodate j, or whether the planta-
tion of Ireland, or the reducement and recompiling of hiv/s, —
tlirowing in some bye-matters (as Sutton's esiate, or the likej —
ii may bo left for further c<-'n>ideration. But I am settled in
this, that somewhat be })ublished Ijesides the money matter; and
that in this form there is much advantage."

— What will the moral historian say to all this ?

The mora] liistorian may possibly bo slioekod ; btit ii" ho
gots througli the next week without doing S(jmotliiiig qiiit(;
iis shocking himseli', I will undertake h) say that lie lias l)ut
liltlo to do in tlio world, and tliat none of the ]ii-aeti('al
interests of society will I'aro tlie- worse for losing liiin. Sonic
o!' tliese cxp'dion's may }>ossibly Jiot exactly sipiai-o witli liis
iiiaxims. Ihit for my own part 1 tliinlc tlie cause of nioralily
i- ill serv('(l by tin; laying down of moral maxims which jk*
niaii of sense or virtiu; can seriously ic.,ul\t' to act upon.

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 379

i\rany things must be kept secret in all civilized societies ;
and without some degree of dissimulation (which if you
anatomise you will always find to include some falsehood)
1.0 secret can be kept. On the other hand, I do not think
the cause of morality well served by attempting to define in
words the exact boundaries between the lawful and the un-
lawful. Human language is not subtle enough or flexible
enough to do it. The human heart duly exercised and
awakened by a sense of responsibility, and bent earnestly on
good ends, is the only judge. Ask any member of any
government, I might say any father of any family, whether
some of the best actions of his life, — actions in which he
was least influenced by any selfish motive, in which he sees
least to repent, of which he can least truly say that he would
do otherwise if they were to do again, — ask him whether
they did not involve some dissimulation ; the keeping up of
some false appearance for the sake of disguising the truth.
But do not ask him to dissect them and call all the parts by
their right names. Let that be dissembled too. As for the
little points of dissimulation which Bacon here sanctions and
recommends, — I do not ask you to remember the difforenco
of the times in which he lived. Take our own times as
they are. Can any man, who thinks what he says and says
what he thinks, maintain that at this day a prime minister
ought to enter upon his office with a resolution to lay bare
to public view all the secret motives and purposes of the
government ; — to give nothing forth ad i:ii>imliuii beyond or
beside his real intentions ?

I am afraid he would not be prime minister long. — How-
ever I grant that in the case before us tlie insincerity is of a
very mitigated kind ; and may perliaps be called reserve
rather tiian dissimulation ; and under that name I will lot it
pass. It is in truth rather the profession tlian the thing,
that even the moral historian would start at. But here is
more of it.

" Lastly, as I wibli all priucel}' and kind coiiifticb held with

380 EVEXIXGS WITH A BEVIEWKU.

Ida Majesty's parliament, so nevertheless it is good to take away
as mucli as is possible' all occasions to make subjects proud, or to
think your Majesty's wants are remedikss except by parliament.
And therefore I could wish it were given out that there are
means found in his 3Iajesty's estate to help himself (which I
jxirtly think is true), but that, because it is not the work of a
day, his Majesty must be beh(jlding to his subjects; Imt as to
facilitate and speed the recovery of himself rather than of an
absolute necessity."

Observe tliat lie wishes " it wore given out ; " he does
not wish the King himself to go aud proulaim it.

Yes.

" Also that thore bo no brigues or canvasses, whereof I hear
too much ; for certainly howsoever nien may seek to value their
services in that kind, it will but increase animosities and
op] odtions ; and besides will make whatever shall be (Umo to be
in evil conceit with your people in general afterwards."

Once more take notice of that. Tliat is anotlicr most
important point in which Bacon's advice was not atteudrd
to. There was a great deal of canvassing, and (what made
it worse) with no great success. On the 3rd of ^larcli,
1()13-14, Mr. Chamberlain writes to Sir Dudley Carleton: — -
" Jlere is much justling for places in ])arliamejit, and letters
11 y from great ])ersonages extraordinarily ; wherein metlunks
they do tlio King no great service, seeing the world is apt
to censure it as a kind of pacldng." And in his next letter
(a fortnight after) he tells him that " letters and counteiiance
were not found so powerful as was imagined evcMi in the
meaner bonnighs." A\'hat the conse<piences were in the
parliament itself we shall see presently.

A.
Here is but one sentence mon; : — ■
"Thus liav(; J set down to yeui' .Afijcsty ui}' simple o[iiiiiiiii,

EVENn-GS WITH A nEVIEWEJl. SSI

wlieiein I make myself believe that I see a fair way throngli
the jirc.-ent Lusiness, and a dimidium tutius to tlie main. But I
submit all to your Maje.^ty's high wisdom, most bumbly de-
siring pardon, and praying the Highest to direct you for tho
best.

" Your Majesty's most humble servant,

" Fii. Bacon."

Well, here you have, as I conceive, a piece of o'enuine
Baconian advice ; from which you may safely draw inferences
as to the policy he would have pursued had lie been in a
place of authority. There is another paper of his in the
same place, entitled " Incidents of a Parliament ; " consist-
ing of questions for consideration — what course may be
taken to accomplish this and avoid that ; but as the ques-
tions are only proposed and not answered ; and as the letter
you have just read seems to contain all the fruit which his
meditations had then yielded ; at least all the definite
advice which he was then prepared to ground upon them ;
they add little to our knowledge of what he would have
had done. They show rather what difficulties lay in the
way, than how lie was prepared to meet them. But in the
foregoing letter we have enough for our purpose. We see
here at any rate the principal things which he thought
slioald be avoided: as 1st, all appearance of necessity, as if
the King were constrained to call a parliament by the
pressure of his own wants, and not for the general good <>i
the kingdom. 2ndly, all a})pearance of dipidence, as if he
had any doubt of their gc»od-will to supjjly him with all
that was needful for his affairs ; or of dependence, as if he
relied upon their help and could not do without it. 3rd]y,
all ap[)earance of soJiciiade, as if money were the grc' .t
matter, and if that failed all failed. 4thly, all appearance
of hargaining ; weighing gift against gift, value to be
bestowed in concessiijus against value to be received ia
subsidies, othly, all canvassing to form a party in ti.e
House; everything (to take the words of the paper oi
"Incidents"; " which might have the show, or the seand,:!.

382 Er]':xixas with a BEviFAVKn.

or the nature, of the packing or briguing of a pavliament."
Gtbly, all risk of au unkind or undignified parting. And
Ttlily (which I may add on the autliority of tlie same paper,
though it is only hinted at in the letter by the way), all
secret interference by great persons with the proceedings of
the House. The words are, " What course may be taken
to let men perceive that a guard and eye is had by liis
]\rajesty that there be no infusions, as were last parlia-
ment, from great persons ; but that all proceedings bo
truly free."

And what said the King to all this advice ?

What he said I do not know. All I know is that lie did
not act upon it. Sir Henry Neville and his party, whoso
purposes (to do them justice) a})pear to have been truly
patriotic, and whoso policy was at least very plausible, and
being much less bold than Bacon's probably seemed mucli
safer, succeeded in carrying the niatter their own way.
These wore the celebrated " Uadertalcers." They were em-
phatically the King's party ; and undertook, if he would
make such concessions as they recommended, tliat his busi-
ness should pass to liis satisfaction. And here by the way
we liave a proof (if it were needed) of the decision and
Confidence of Bacon's foresiglit in this matter. For sncli
being their professed object and tlieir service being accc})t(jd,
an ordinjiry man in his j)]ace (or indeed lie himselt' had ho
been the scu't of man he is taken for) would naturally have
joined them. Yet he certainly did not. I have another
letter Inn'O, written ]iot long belbrc the pailiament met,
which ])roves I think decisively that he disapproved of their
policy and expected no good from it. It would seom tliat
tlie Isiiig luid 1)0011 consulting hiin n])on the subject; and
the tenoiir of his advieo mav be gathei'cd tVoni this h'tlei-.
evidc'iitly written liy way of j'eiiiiiitl'T.

"1 innst liiiiiilily |ii';iy ynr M;ijesty," he s:iys, " fo I'cccivc

EVENINGS WITH A HE VIEWER. 883

into yonr royal remembrance that one point whereof joii spake
unto me ; which was this, — To put this case to those gentlemen
who profess to do 3-ou service in jjarliament and desire (as
they say) but to have some matter whereupon to work : — ' If
your Majesty be resolved not to buy or sell this parliament, but
to perform the part of a king and not of a mercliant or con-
tractor,— what they can devise or propound for the satisfaction
of your people? '

" Of this three uses may be made.

" Fi'.'st, if they fall upon an answer as to say that the parlia-
ment is now so in taste with matters of substance and profit,
as it is vain to think to draw them on but by some offer of that
nature ; then for my part I shall little esteem their service, if
they confess themselves to be but brokers for bargains.

" Secondly, if they do devise and propound anything that is
fit, — Ihen that it be followed and pursued, because they are
likest to be in love with their own child and to nourish it.

" Thirdly, if they show good will to devise some such thing,
but that their invention proveth barren in that their proposi-
tions be not such but that better may be found ; then that the}-
maj' be holjoen by some better proposition from your Majesty
whereupon to work.

'• This, becaitso time runneth, I beseech your ^Majesty may
be put to them by some such mean as your Majesty is pleased
to use, as soon as may be."

^\"here does this come from ?

From the same volume as the last : one of the Cotton
colloctiou. It is the original, all fairly writtcu in his own
liaud.

Well I admit this as conclusive evidence that he is nd
ans\\eral)le for the errors of the Undertakers, whatever tin y
may have been. And w hat was the issue of it all ?

For a full answer to tliat question we must ]ilnng'e again
into the .Journals of the Comnujns and the volumes of con-

.'^81 EVENINGS WTTU A TiEYTEWEJ^.

temporary eorrespondoiice ; and it will mnko too long a
story for to-nigbt. Bnt if yon will be content witb ]>ac(in's
own report of tbe matter, I can give yon tliat in a moderate
compass. And it is as well perbaps tbat wbile liis views
beforehand of wliat ongbt to be done and what ought not
to be done, and of what was to be hoped and feared, are still
fresh in yonr memory, you should hear also his own account
of what icas done and what was the consequence of it. It
is contained in a paper which has never been noticed (so far
as I know), but ^\hich may be seen in the Inner Temple
Library. It is addressed to the King ; relates to matters
concerning which the King must have been perfectly well-
informed ; and was written not more than a year and a half
after they took place. It can hardly be supposed therefore
to contain any intentional misrepresentation ; and if it does
contain a true representation of things as they appeared to
Bacon, it has a historical value infinitely above that of any
other account which can be had of that period.

The object of the paper, I should tell you, is to persua'le
the King not to be discouraged by the ill-success of this
parliament from calling another; to show what were tlie
true causes of the failure, and by what precautions a similar
result may be guarded against another time. Tlie only
part which concerns us at present is that which explains the
causes of the failure.

After speaking in the same s[)irit as before, but more
explicitly and earnestly, of tlie ill-success of the (Ireat Con-
tract in \\\o parliament of 1(510, in damping "tlie geiK^rous
dis])ositinn of free giving unto the King, and the politic
arguments of })ersuading it upon reason of state," he })ro-
ceeds — ■

" Then ill flic last assondtly "f pavliaincnt after four years'
intennissioii, wlieii tlie Tcalrii liad pansiul iVom snlisidicis a good
Avliilc, and wlicii it liiid liccii time to furi;ci tlicso liyway.s ainl
to liavc reduced tliiii^.s fo ancient cmii'st;, ilic latlicr for Inat llie
lcad(;r of those ways was gimc to anollicr world, then did cii-
tain gcnllcmen fwliuni I \n\-i: and ]iii/" in jtarticulai-, lnit nmci--
tliclcss I Avi1l never spare in lliisj lieinc- hui, merely ('iii|iicics

EVENINGS WITH A EEVIEWER. 385

of parliament, and those whose wisdoms reached hut to that
they had observed last, not well seen in the rules of estate and
the pulses of people's hearts, and out of zeal perhaps to do
well overvaluing their strength, — revive again those former
errors of merchandising, and add a far greater error of new.

" For first, it being given out and professed that the end and
cause of calling a parliament was to pay the King's debts and
supply his wants — "

The very thing, you remember, vvliich Bacon had espe-
cially dissuaded,

- — ■" which of itself did great hurt by putting upon the King
the person of a mendicant, and was contrary to the honour-
able form of all former parliaments (wherein were the cause
of want never so manifest it was never acknowledged by the
State, but fell in upon the bye), they straight ways fell into
the old track of gathering together certain heads of donatives
and graces, whereby they tliought fit to invite the parlia-
ment to an ample gift ; which being propounded, I cannot
forget that his Majesty seemed to be in heart and in his own
opinion against it ; wherein ho showed his great wisdom and
foresight; and nevertheless being persuaded unto it, he did
likewise as miich as the wit of man could devise help it, in
carrying it in the best form by disclaiming all merchan-
dising and making it but a mutuality and interchange of
love; the parliament having in contemplation the case of the
King, and the King having in contemplation the case of the
people, and not as in contract, either party looking to his own
advantage — "

This by the way (if the accounts we have of the King's
speech do it justice) is a version of his words much im-
proved by the reporter. It was the colour which Bacon
himself put upon th(>m in the House of Commons, and
coming from him as a member of the House, the effect is
very good. In the King's mouth it did not tell quite so
well ; and I am ready to admit that Bacon stretched a j^oint
in saying that the King took the most effectual course
" which the wit of man could devise " to remove the impu-
tation of bargaining, by the manner in which he disclaimed
it. If he had made the King's speech for him, I tliink his
VOL. I. 2 c

386 EVFyiKGS WITH A HE VIE WEB.

own wit would have devised some better turn. It is true
the King was trying to act upon Bacon's advice, but he
showed a singular want of tact in the attempt. Bacon had
advised him to " put off the person of a merchant and con-
tractor and rest upon the person of a king ; " the King,
with a simplicity w^hich makes one love him, went and
assured the House of Commons that he had done so, and
that his offered graces were to be taken as springing from
love, and not as if he meant to trade with them like a mer-
chant. Never was such an instance of a man turning his
wit the seamy side without. It was as if King John, when
Faulconbridge implored him not to betray his fears before
his people, had gone to his army and begged them not to
suppose he was afraid. Therefore I cannot but think that
Bacon did know of a man whose wit could have devised a
better remedy for the error.

He should have said " as much as your Majesty s wit
could devise," then. But that would have been disrespectful.
I shall not quarrel with him for that little piece of polite-
ness.— Well ?

" — But yet it was not possilJo so to overcome or disguise the
nature of things, Tmt that it fell into the. old way. For though
it were not matter of mere contract as in the former parliament,
yet it was a kind of valued gift, which made men take "weights
and measures into their hands, and those not the truest; so
that in the end those graces came to be despised and to be
termed Yemficia instead (jf Jjcnijlcia, and that cedars were cut
down and slirulis given to browse upon, and such other unfit
speeches : AVliich error was likewise accumulated -witli another
circumstance wdnch likewise did great hurt ; in that they were
all offered, and not first desired and sued for ; contrary like-
wise to his ]\Iajesty"s own opinion, wlio ever thought that offer
would be vilified and that it is appetite that makes sweetness.

"But the second error (as i saidj was the greater; which
was that, through indiscretion, or vain-glory, or what it was, it
was voiced abroad and cari'it-d as ii thing notorious, — insomncli
as people (wdio are evorniore godl'atliers to such things) gave it

EVENINGS WITH A BEVIEWER. 387

the name of Undertaldiig or UndertaJcers, — that certain persons
had tmclertaken to value themselves with the King by the ser-
vice of preparing and inducing a parliament to pay his debts
and supply his wants — "

You remember how he had warned the King that
brigiies and canvasses would only increase animosities and
opposition.

" — which did stir up a kind of indignation even in those that
were very well and honestly affected, that a house of parlia-
ment should become the shadows and followers of a few, and
that thereby they should at once lose money, libert}-, and thanks.
But then this was taken hold of also and exasperated by all
such as under this fair pretext were glad and took boldness to
cover and convey their own secret averseness towards the King's
business and other their private drifts.

" Upon this grew also divers l)ranches of inconvenience ; as
first that there was great suing, standing, and striving about
elections and places ; which joined with this general noise of
undertaking and likewise with the opposition thereunto made
by others, made the wisest and ablest persons of the kingdom
not willing to be of the House ; as loth to offer themselves to
opposition and fearing lest it might be a turbulent and factious
parliament, and therefore choosing rather to sit quiet at home.
And these are the persons in whoso hands the King's business
ever prospereth best, as being most interested in the State and
most respective in their opposing.

" Upon the same ground it came to pass that three parts of
the House were such as had never been of any former parlia-
ment, and many of them young men and not of any great estate
or quality ; and they are wonderfully mistaken in their prin-
ciple who think that such men will give most because they have
least : for such are ever more forward to oppose upon bravery,
than the gentlemen of the country or wealthy merchants are
upon dryness. And besides, that greenness of the House leeseth
the modesty and gravity by which great matters have passage
and turneth it into a kind of sport or exercise ; which also is
a thing most pernicious (if it be truly looked into) unto the
liberty of a parliament ; for howsoever they may ruffle once or
twice, yet if they leese their gravity and dignity they will
grow in contempt both towards the King and towards the
people abroad.

388 EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB.

" Another inconvenience was by the said occasion that those
gentlemen and their friends and associates (who to do them
right were of the best voices of the House and the best able to
persuade if they stood clear and unprejudged) were by this
means turned nnj^rofitable and of no credit in the House ; so
that everj^ one of them coiild have done more in the parliament
before than all together could do this parliament.

" There was also another shrewd dependence of this last
inconvenience ; which was that the same persons, finding that
they had lost the House, were forced to regain reputation and to
ingratiate themselves (as they term it) with the House by being
forward and running violent courses in causes of popularity, as
in the matter of Impositions and other pretended grievances,
wherein the King's j^ower or profit were interested : and so
upon the matter but to beg credit one day to spend it another ;
wherein they found themselves only able to row with the
stream, but had no arms or power to row against it. But in
the meantime this bred a spirit of boldness and immoderate
liberty to oppose in the King's causes ; and the King himself
was fain to pass over divers things which it had been fit to stop
at the beginning, uj)on expectation that the end would make
amends for all.

" Another inconvenience which followed was the manifest
distraction which reigned in the House between the Undertakers
and the Anti-undertakers ; which made the House more troubled
with their appeals the one against the other than with anything
else ; and made them also look rather upon the persons one of
another how they were sided, tlian regard the matter tlicy
spake ; cro.-sing the matter for the pcrson'.s sake ; which did cut
oil' all means of pcrsiuision and consent.

" But that whicli was of all otliers most pernicious, this dis-
traction had entered into the King's house and council and
among.-it Ijis great men; insomucli as my Lord Privy Seal"- —

That was tlie Earl of Xortliam])t()n.

" — who liad discounselled the pailiament and hated the per.-ons
almost of tlie Tndei'takers, — what for the glory of liis opinion
and what for the blasting of their sei'vices, — declared liimsidf
in that mannei- as he set up a kind of flag unto all those that
opposed the Undertakei's and would frustrate the success of the
parliament.

" Lastly, contrary to all custom of parliament and to the
stirring of infinite animosity and di.-^laste, the King's business

EVENINGS WITH A RE VIE WEB. 389

was urged to be put to a point at the very first : and this was
done tliat the weakness of the Undertakers, whose strength was
more in noise than in strength,* might not he perceived before
the King's turn was served ; which point of time being un-
pleasing to every man and therefore soon overruled, made the
House to find their strength ; which stumbling at the threshold
was never after recovered.

" This then being a true description of the last parliament,
I see no reason why it should cast a fear for the holding of
another, no more than the opening of a body dead of a disease
ought to fear a man in health ; but it may warn him somewhat
to observe in the regiment of his health.

" Of this that hath been said there is a double use ; the one
for the removing of too much apprehension or discouragement
concerning the calling of a parliament; the other because the
notation of those errors carrieth in itself l)y rule of contrary
a kind of direction or platform what course is now to be held.
For I do not think there (!an be a more true or compendious
advice how to cany things concerniiig a future parliament than
this — to do just contrary to that was last done."

He then proceeds to give his " affirmative counsel " for
the future parliament ; which is exactly in the same spirit
with the advice that he had previously given for the last,
which we have just seen ; only more hxrge and elaborate
and earnest, and entering further into detail. I have some-
thing to say about that too when its turn comes ; but for
the present we may as well stop liere. The next thing will
be to inquire from independent authorities what part he
actually took in this " addle parliament," and how far it was
consistent with his principles and views expressed both
before and after, as they are expounded in the letters we
have read to-night. Our information on that point is in
truth very imperfect ; but it is better to bring forward all we
have, that we may see how the footmarks lie, and that we
may leave as few blank leaves as possible for the moral histo-
rian or the popular biographer to fill up from his own fancy.

How far have we advanced now ?

* So in MS.

390 EVENixas WITH a nEviEWEn.

lu point of time, not far to-night : for Bacon is only
about a year and a half okler than he was when we began ;
being just turned fifty-three. But in our knowk?dge of hnu
and of his life, as it seemed to lie before him looking for-
ward into the uncertain future, we have made, I conceive, a
considerable step.

We have seen how clearly he perceived that the times
were out of joint, and how strong an opinion he had as to
the proper method of proceeding to reduce the dislocation,
and the fatal consequence of delay in adopting it. The
result of each succeeding attempt to set it right by a dif-
ferent treatment only proved more and more that he ^^'as
correct. His influence with the King, though far from
paramount, was nevertheless increasing. The events of this
year cannot but have tended to improve it still further.
The policy of the King, with all its errors, was surely not so
hopelessly depraved that an hunest man was bound to for-
sake his cause : and it has not yet appeared that in any
single instance Bacon attempted to gain influence with him
by encouraging him in his errors : on the contrary it is clear
almost to demonstration that he used his influence so far as
it would go to correct or moilil'y them, or to ward off the
consequences. His })atriotism, it is true, was not like that
of the extreme jjopular party of his day, which seems to be
regarded by the lil)eral writers of our own as thcmdy pos-
sible form of patriotism. It diil not consist in an endeavour
to defeat tlie King and strip him of Ids prei'ogatives. J)(H's
it follow tliat it was false or insincere ? Does it follow vwn
that it was mistal':(.'n ? Surely no tliinking man can say so.
— A\'liat was tlio end which Bacon un^st (h-siriMl to bring
aljout ? A re'-o!iciliation lietwet^n tlie King and tlie Com-
mo]is: — not that llu; ( 'oiimions slieuld prc'vail against tlie
Iviiig : l»ut tliat the l\iiig and t'omnions sliould prevail
together agaiii>t ihiiigirs and disonlers within and without,
and ])roceed lianiioiiiousl\- in the great oi)ei'ati(.)ns of good
govei'iiment. llis eiul thei'rfoi'c you must allow was good.
Then as to the means, llutv ilid he pi'opose to effect this

EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB. 391

reconciliation ? for there were many ways in which it might
have been attempted. By helping the King to prevail
against the Commons ? No : but by showing him how to
prevail tvith them ; by guiding him into such a course of
policy as should command their confidence and consent.
So far you must allow his means to be good also. Once
more then, as to the means of the means. How did he
propose to command that confidence and consent ? By in-
triguing, and forming parties, and overbearing their de-
liberations, and silencing dissentients ? for those are the
unpatriotic arts. The very contrary. One of the principal
points which he insisted on as essential was this — that thei'e
should be no interference either with the elections in the
country or with the proceedings in the House, but that " all
proceedings should be truly free." Or if it be too much to
say that he was against all interference with elections, — for
it is true that he would have had measures taken if possible
to bring in fit men and keep out unfit, — yet he expressly
stipulated that those measures should be such as to satisfy
two conditions : — first, they were to be " bonis artihus, with-
out labouring or packing ; " secondly, they were to have for
their end the procuring of a really good House.

Ay ; but what was his notion of a really good House ?
Your constitutional critic will say that he meant a House
with a majority on the King's side.

I expected that ; but the constitutional critic will be
mistaken. Bacon no doubt expected, as one of the incidents
of a good House, that it would have a majority on the
King's side; just as a man who believes that his cause is
just believes that a good judge will decide it in his favour.
But ask him what ho means by a good judge, — he will say,
a man of learning, integrity, judgment, and impartiality.
(Suppose in like manner we ask Bacon what he means by
'•' a really good House of Commons." Here is his answer :—

392 EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER.

" I wish by all means that the House may be compounded
not of young men, but of the greatest gentlemen of quality of
their country ; and ancient parliament men ; and the principal
and gravest lawyers, sergeants, and readers ; and the chiefest
merchants ; and likewise travellers and statesmen ; and in a
word, that it be a sufficient House worthy to consult with in the
great causes of the Commonwealth."

Have you any objection to that ?

No ; the cause that prospers in such a House should be
a good one. Certainly if it asks no more favour than a fair
hearing in a House so composed, it must at least think
itself a good one.

Then you admit that the end which Bacon wished to
bring about was good ; and that the means by which he
proposed to bring it about, and the means of obtaining those
means, were fair and constitutional ?

It should seem so.-

Then you have no objection to make to the manner in
which, and the purposes for which, he used what influence he
had with the King ?

None at present.

If then you find him endeavouring to maintain and im-
prove that influence, will it shock or surprise you ? Shall
you be at a loss for his motive ? Or will you be content to
suppose that his wish to improve his influence witli the
King may have arisen naturally out of a natural wish to
serve his country ? — 1 do not ask whether that was his onhj
motive. Sugar tasted sweet to him as to other men. Ijiit
suppose he did feel such a wish,^ — that he had some care for
the prosperity of King and kingdom, — was not that motive
suflicient ?

EVENINGS WITH A REVIEWER. 393

I confess I think it was.

And do you not think we may go a step further yet ?
You admit that, upon that motive alone, he might naturally
endeavour to advance in the King's favour. Could he,
think you, — supposing that motive strong, — have not en-
deavoured to do so ? Such being the state of things, such
his views, such his position, — if you should find him not
endeavouring to improve his influence with the King, should
you not infer that his wnsh to serve his country was not
strong ?

Stay, stay. That is too much at once. I must first
know how he used his influence afterwards, when he had
succeeded in improving it. If not in a patriotic spirit —

Excuse me. That does not affect the present question.
When we come to that, you shall judge it freely. What I
ask you now you can answer now. I ask you whether a
man in Bacon's position, fully persuaded that if he had but
more influence with the King he could be of material service
in extricating the country from a dangerous embarrassment,
and yet wilfully neglecting to improve that influence, —
whether such a man could be supposed to care much
whether the country were extricated or not. Translate the
case into our own times. A man thinks he knows how Ire-
land may be saved. He thinks too that he might himself
be a material instrument for doing it if he were to put him-
self forward. He does not put himself forward. What may
I infer ?

That he cares more for his own quiet than for the sal-
vation of Ireland, I suppose.

394 EVENINGS WITH A BE VIE WEB.

Of course. Well then if Bacon had not put himself for-
ward ?

Yes, but you assume that he thought that by putting
himself forward he could extricate the country ?

Assume ! You cannot expect a demonstration of the
secret thoughts of a man who has been dead two hundred
years. Yet you can hardly call it an assumption either.
You must at least admit that if he did not think so, he acted
most unaccountably ; and that if he did think so, he must
have acted just as he did.

Certainly I must admit that he had no motive for giving
the advice he did, except a conviction that it was sound.
For lie seems to have been in a very small minority.

A minority of one, so far as I can discover.

Well then I admit that whatever other motives ho may
have had, that motive was sufficient of itself. Having such
a motive, he is not only excused for wishing to keep and im-
prove his influence with the ]ving (not that I have ever said
he needed any excuse), but he could not well have done
otherwise. I hope that will content you.

Perfectly.

END OF VOLUME I.

rK7NTi';lJ liV WILLIAM CLOWI-.S AM) SONS, LIMITIU), LONDON AND I'.ICCCI.ES.

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