ing kind, and his natural honesty came often into collision with his political shrewdness. To-day, in conformity with his own convictions, he delivered a patriotic speech in Parliament against the subsidies, and having thus offended the Queen he did all he could to appease her wrath. He repented that he had made the speech; and we may be fully convinced that he felt unfeigned sorrow on account of an impolitic act that was so much in the way of his plans. On another occasion he toiled to save the man who had been his benefactor, but when he saw the Queen's good graces were at stake, he allowed his friend to fall, having only sought his favor because he had been the favorite of the Queen. He always stooped as soon as he saw that he might knock his head by keeping it upright. This spectacle of so great a mind in such a wavering and undignified condition is far from edifying; but even here we may find a trait that accompanies Bacon's character through all his wanderings, that belongs to his peculiarities, and has its foundation in his inmost nature;-I mean an extraordinary facility in helping himself under any circumstances, in passing over the difficulties of a route, and hurrying on as if nothing of any moment had occurred, as if no mark of evil were left in his track. Hence it was that the man who excelled all others in intellectual power, and imprinted a new form of mind upon his age, at the same time presented a soft material capable of receiving the impression from any hand that happened to be powerful. This elastic power constitutes the type of his individuality, in which all his politics, his virtues as well as his foibles, harmonize with each other. Here we can perceive that his character is consistent with itself. From this point we explain the peculiar turns of his life, his vicissitudes, even his extremest aberrations.

"Bacon possessed all those qualities which have a right to shine in society; he united the weighty with the light, not by deliberate act, but by dint of natural grace. His command over words was perfect, both in public orations and in private converse. But this very power which in

science and in social life finds so brilliant and lofty an expression, acquires quite another aspect when its acts are of a moral kind; the moral element is for such a form of individuality the most uncongenial and the most dangerous. There is no elastic morality; and Bacon's moral nature was s elastic, as facile, as completely directed towards practical ends, and as compliant with circumstances as his intellect. Here is the perceptible harmony of his character, which has often escaped notice, or (as in the case of Mr. Macauley), missed altogether. We see in Bacon's moral character, as compared with his intellect, not a distinct being, but only the shadow of his individuality, which grew larger as its substance increased in power and importance. Indeed, when we see the general corruption by which such a character was surrounded, we can scarcely wonder that it fell into sad perplexities and aberrations. His love was a cool inclination, his hatred a cool dislike. It was easy for him to abandon and even to persecute a fallen friend for the sake of gaining royal favor, or to contract a marriage which offered no charm but wealth. Violent passions were as alien from his heart as the fallacies which he termed "idols," were alien from his intellect. We thus have a thorough explanation of the saddest episode of Bacon's life -of the part which he played as counsel for the crown against the Earl of Essex. It was a collision, not between duty and inclination, but between selfishness and friendship. He really made every effort to save Essex without danger to himself. When, under the government of James I, the friends of Essex regained their influence, Bacon did everything to obliterate the memory of this proceeding. He assured the Earl of Southampton [the friend of Essex], on his liberation, that the change of the throne had wrought in him no other change than this, 'that he could be safely that to him now which he had truly been before.' In these few lines, Bacon has depicted himself with the most naive candor."

Burleigh, in the defence of his own conduct in refusing his nephew's reiterated requests for court favor, had dis

paraged before the Queen and others Bacon's legal attainments and abilities. This roused the latter to counteract the opinions of Burleigh on this subject, by writing a treatise upon the elements and use of common law, applying the inductive mode of reasoning to jurisprudence, in reaching the platform of legal rules and maxims through a gradual series of particulars. The publication of his Essays about the same time gave him notoriety and reputation with the public as a writer. But (says Devey), 'Authorship brought in nothing but fame in those days. To rid himself of embarrassment, so irksome to a man of genius, he resolved to make a bold attempt to retrieve his affairs by marriage. Lady Hatton, the eldest daughter of Sir Thomas Cecil, and early relict of the son of Chancellor Hatton, was the beauty at whose shrine Bacon ventured to offer up his first vows. But the rich widow had unfortunately possessed herself of a copy of Bacon's Essays, and finding therein love described as an ignoble passion, fit only for base and petulant natures, she ascribed his professions of attachment rather to her money than to her person, and rejected his suit. This disappointment was the more severely felt as the young lady capitulated to a rival, his sworn antagonist, Sir Edward Coke, a crabbed old lawyer, with six children, and stricken with infirmities.'

When James ascended the throne, Bacon lost no time in endeavoring to gain his favor. The King, however numerous his faults and deficiencies, has the credit of being an admirer of men of genius, so that the application of Bacon to receive the honor of knighthood was granted, on the coronation day, to him and to two hundred and ninety-nine other gentlemen. During the reign of this monarch Bacon advanced rapidly in his fortunes. In 1604 he received the appointment of King's Counsel, with a handsome fee and pension; in 1607 he was appointed Solicitor-General, and in 1612 Attorney-General. In 1616 (through the influence of Buckingham) he was made Counsellor of State, in 1617 Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, and in 1618 Lord High Chancellor of England. In Parliament he made great

exertions to carry into effect a measure on which the King's heart was set-the union of England and Scotland. In the midst of all those public engagements, he contrived to devote a portion of his time and energies to scientific investigations and writings. His treatise on "The Advancement of Learning," appeared in 1605, and was afterwards extended and published under the title of Novum Organum, the work on which his great fame as a philosopher is built. In the 'Advancement of Learning' (says Mr. Devey) 'he reviewed the state of the sciences, pointed out the obstacles which had obstructed their progress, and suggested sage and practical hints for their entire renovation. The eloquent wisdom he displayed in the survey, had a marvellous effect in reviving a zeal for science in every part of Europe, and in enlarging the domain of knowledge; so that if Cæsar's complaint to Cicero be worth any thing, in extending the limits of human wit he obtained a glory greater than that of enlarging the boundaries of the Roman world.'

Bacon first appeared in public as a writer of Essays. The volume, quite small at first, was afterwards greatly enlarged, and honored by a most favorable reception. It was soon translated into Latin, French and Italian, and brought the writer into high repute as a literary man. An enlarged and greatly improved edition was printed in 1612. About this time he was engaged in preparing one of his most important and useful works-that which he called "The reducing and recompiling of the laws of England." He sought the amendment of the civil law, and the reform of the Statute-Book, by extracting from the confused mass of reports a series of sound and consistent decisions. He also induced the King to appoint Reporters, who should prepare, and print by authority, such decisions of the courts as were of a useful character, so as to guard against the publication of crude and contradictory cases.

Yet, as Macauley affirms, he was at this very time engaged in perverting those laws to the vilest purposes of tyranny, as in the case of Oliver St. John before the Star Chamber, and of an aged clergyman of the name of Peacham, who was

accused of treason for some passages contained in a sermon which, whether written by him or not, had never been preached. In the absence of other evidence to convict him, he was put to the rack, and was then examined by Bacon, but no confession of guilt could be extorted from him; yet upon most futile charges being convicted, he was consigned to prison for the short remainder of his life. In this base transaction Bacon showed himself to be even behind his "He was," says Macauley, one of the last of the tools of power who persisted in a practice the most barbarous and the most absurd that has ever disgraced jurisprudence-in a practice, of which, in the preceding generation, Elizabeth and her ministers had been ashamed-in a practice which, a few years later, no sycophant in all the Inns of Court had the heart or the forehead to demand."

age.

It seems a contradiction in terms to assert that Bacon was behind his own age; but Macauley thus admirably explains in what sense and in what character alone he showed himself to be behind his age :- "Those who survey only one half of character may speak of him with unmixed admiration or with unmixed contempt. But those only judge of him correctly who take in at one view Bacon in speculation and Bacon in action. They will have no difficulty in comprehending how one and the same man should have been far before his age and far behind it; in one line the boldest and most useful innovators, in another line the most obstinate champion of the foulest abuses. In his library, all his rare powers were under the guidance of an honest ambition, of an enlarged philanthropy, of a sincere love of truth. There no temptation drew him away from the right course. Thomas Aquinas could pay no fees; Dun Scotus could confer no peerages; the 'Master of the Sentences' had no rich reversions in his gift. Far different was the situation of the great philosopher when he came forth from his study and his laboratory to mingle with the crowd which filled the galleries of Whitehall. In all that crowd there was no man equally qualified to render great and lasting services to mankind; but in all that crowd there was not a heart more