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LORD BROUGHAM, with that accuracy for which he is so eminently distinguished, in a note to his celebrated Discourse, announced that the venerable Basil Montagu was about to publish a Life of Lord Bacon, in which the character of the philosopher and statesman would be relieved of the reproach to which it was ordinarily subject. The desiderated life, however, had been before the public for nine months, and was a novelty to no man save his lordship. Strange to say, however, it has received no notice from any review, great or small, learned or sciolist. This were good reason enough for our taking up both the theme and the book; justified, moreover, by the importance of both. And now a direct opportunity is afforded us, by the production of another work on the Character of Lord Bacon, his Life, and Works, by Thomas Martin, which has excited not a little interest in the appropriate quarters.

Mr. Basil Montagu's defence of Lord Bacon amounts to this, that the chancellor was no worse than his times. Such were they, and so bad, that the outcries of the subject were incessant. "Monopolies, reports Hacket," and biberies were beaten upon the anvil every day, almost every

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hour." Reform was demanded, and the king compelled to attend to the cry. Amongst the rest, petitions were presented for corruption against the lord chancellor, by two suitors, named Aubrey and Egerton.

"If Bacon," says his present biographer," instead of treating the charge with contempt, and indulging in imaginations of the friendship of Buckingham and of the king (thinking, as they were, only of their own safety), had trusted to his own powerful mind, and met the accusation instantly and with vigour, he might at once, strong as the tide was against all authority, have stemmed the torrent, and satisfied the intelligent that the fault was not in the chancellor but the chancery."

He has further added, in a note, "In the year 1824, when there was a senseless yell against Lord Eldon, a commission was appointed to inquire into the defects of the Court of Chancery. That it abounded with defects was indisputable. Before this committee I was examined; and, aware of the tendency of the many to personify and make their complaints against magistrates, I did all in my power to resist it. The following is an extract from part of my examination. I hope, that in thus speaking

The Works Of Francis Bacon, Lord Chancellor of England. A New Edition. By Basil Montagu Esq. London, 1834. William Pickering.

Character of Lord Bacon, his Life, and Works. By Thomas Martin, Barristerat-Law. London, 1835. A. Maxwell.

VOL. XIII. NO— LXXIX

of the lord chancellor's court, I may not be supposed to be speaking of the lord chancellor; or to attribute to him these defects, any more than I thought the defects of the commissioners' court should be ascribed to the commissioners. I cannot but think it most unjust to confound the court with the judge. There is a spirit of improvement now moving upon this country, which ought not, as it appears to me, to be impeded by personality. Permanent defects in a court may, perhaps, generally be traced to the constitution of the court; that is, not to the judge, but to society."

We cannot concede to Mr. Basil Montagu, that the Lords Bacon and Eldon row altogether in the same boat. We know not that the latter is conscious of any thing that could induce him to make acknowledgement of guilt or error, in his capacity of chancellor ; and he may plead with pride that, during his administration of equity, he raised it to a science. This he did without the pretension that qualified Bacon's character. Bacon professed philosophy, but he failed to carry out its results in that channel where, without any profession, Lord Eldon put it into perfect practice. We have no desire, however, to elevate any succeeding chancellor above our Verulam, on the score of science; but we wish to intimate, that Bacon and Eldon are rather arbitrarily brought into parallel by Mr. Basil Montagu.

Certainly Lord Bacon, as urged by his biographer, might have reminded the house that, although he knew the temporary power of custom against opinion, he, in resistance of the established practice, had exerted himself to prevent any interference, even by Buckingham or the king, in the administration of justice, by which the impartiality of the judges might be, or might appear to be, disturbed. He might have undoubtedly said, that both petitions contained internal and unanswerable proof that it was not the corruption of the judge, but the fault of the times, in which the practice originated. He might have referred to the fact that the presents were made openly, in the presence of witnesses. He might have shewn, that these offerings had not influenced his judgment in favour of the donor; as, in (i)) in the

made. In the case of Awbrey, he, to repeat the strong expression which had been used, made "a killing decree against him;" and with respect to Egerton, the decision was in favour of his opponent Rowland, who did not make any present until some weeks after the judgment was pronounced. Nor need he have contented himself with shewing that the offerings were neither presented nor received as bribes; he could have shewn, by the statements of the petitions, that the presents were recommended by counsel, and delivered by men of title and members of parliament.

Mr. Montagu, with much reason, here inquires: Did the persons just alluded to "act in compliance with long-established practice, or were they all bribed? Were the practitioners in this noble profession polluted by being accessory to the worst species of bribery? Why, when the charge was made, did the recorder instantly say, 'If Egerton desired to congratulate him at his coming to the seal, for his kindnesses and pains in former business, what wrong hath he done if he hath received a present? And if there were a suit depending, who keeps a register in his heart of all causes ? nay, who can, amongst such a multitude?'"

The strongest argument in Lord Bacon's favour exists in the fact, that the custom of the chancellor's receiving presents had existed from the earliest periods a custom not peculiar to England, but existing in the most enlightened governments; in the different states of Greece in all feudal states -in France, where the suitors always presented the judge with some offering, in conformity with their established maxim, Non deliberetur donec solventur species--and in England, from time immemorial. It existed before the time of King John, and during his reign; and, notwithstanding the rights secured at Runnymede, it still continued. It existed in the reign of Henry V.; and although, during the reign of Henry VIII., Sir Thomas More declined to receive presents, his very power of declining proves that it was customary to offer them; and, in conformity with this practice, the usual presents were made to Lord Bacon, within a few hours after he had accented the great seal - the only pecu

fing salary, to which the lord-keeper was entitled, for labours never intended to be gratuitous.

We are afraid, that the reference to Sir Thomas More is fatal to Lord Bacon's case. An example had been set of a better mode of proceeding, and the old by that example was condemned. Why did not Lord Bacon emulate the self-denial of Sir Thomas More? But Lord Bacon had no selfdenial no man ever hunted more anxiously in pursuit of fortune. From a laudable wish of living to study, he was too desirous, in youth and in age, to be saved the trouble of studying to live. Yet was his life one continual study of the kind-one perpetual strife and agony for appointments, more than were needed by the man and the philosopher, if not more than were required by an ostentatious politician and functionary. Ostentatious magnificence was the manner of the time, but Lord Bacon affected more than the usual state even of that gorgeous period. In this he exceeded that golden mean, the observance of which is characteristic of a sage mind, and fell short of the standard of that superior virtue which, fixing its contemplation on higher and unworldly objects, rates as of little comparative value the mere trappings of office or the livery of rank. His ease and his fortune he too much esteemed beyond his character. Determined to secure the former for the time he lived in, the latter he left to the next ages resigning it, meanwhile, to the safe keeping of a king and a courtier. No wonder they took little care of what he appreciated so little; nor need we be surprised that the next ages should take less so that his complete vindication has stood over even to this day. Mr. Martin has summed up the argument in Lord Bacon's favour, with much talent; that is to say, he has been able to justify his conduct on the facts, without being able to vindicate it on principle. The severe sentence, according to this gentleman, which the lords founded on the chancellor's own confession, forms that blot upon the character of Bacon which some would fain treat as a mere paltry libel," and others, as a crime which made him the "meanest of mankind." Neither of these extreme opinions, he thinks, will be adopted by any one who calmly and dispassionately con

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siders the proceedings in this memorable trial, and, together with an unprejudiced spirit and judgment, possesses a full knowledge of the moral and political history of those times.

"We do not hesitate," he continues, "to say an opinion not hastily formed, but deliberately, and after much reflection-that Bacon was guilty of practices which ought not to be tolerated in any court of justice; and so transcendently important to the well-being of any country is the pure administration of its laws, that, to obtain it, there is hardly any price too great to be given. Still there are certain considerations, in extenuation of Lord Bacon's offence, which ought not to be overlooked, and which, if duly weighed, will tend to rectify those extravagant notions of his guilt, taken up by many an unthinking reader, upon no better ground, we verily believe, than the well-known antithesis of Pope; who, whatever may be his merits as a poet, did not evince much moral discrimination when, in the same poem in which Lord Bacon is held up to everlasting scorn, he crowns with all honour the abandoned Bolingbroke."

We must, in passing, make some remark on the couplet of Pope alluded

to:

"If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined,

The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind."

Apology for the poet is not needed, touching the said Bolingbroke; neither is the honour with which the latter is crowned properly to be put in antithesis to the scorn with which Bacon is named. It was never the poet's design to exalt one at the expense of the other. Mr. Montagu remarks, in regard to the people, that they "are often censured for their selection of a victim, but where they contend for a principle they lose sight of the individual. It is this dangerous indifference," he adds, "that enables bad men to direct, for private ends, a popular tumult. The Jewish people demanded merely their annual privilege; it was the priests who said 'Save Barabbas."" This is true, although the illustration is rather profanely put. The poet is like the people; he, too, contends for a principle the example is a mere matter of chance. In the official chronicles of his country, in the authentic documents of the state, Bacon had suffered himself to be held un as a

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Prerogative Instance of the Truth sought to be enforced; and, in search of a popular illustration, the poet took a case at once prominent and impressive. It was not the fault of Pope, but of Bacon, that the chancellor's character stood in an equivocal light. He might, and ought to, have acted like Sir Thomas More; or, if he were self-justified in acting otherwise, he should have sacrificed his fortune rather than his reputation. Wanting the spirit of a martyr, he wanted all. Leave it to the next ages, forsooth! To them might be left the appreciation of his philosophical scheme - for such appreciation time is needed; but, in a question of integrity of conduct, the hour for defence is that wherein a man is put upon his trial. His proper jury are among his contemporaries, whose decision alone can enable us to determine whether a particular individual was in advance or in the rear of his age.

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Bacon confessed that he was frail, and partook of the abuses of the times; nor can he be defended from this self-impeachment. The times in which such abuses had been tolerated were either passed or passing; Bacon suffered himself to be distanced in the race. Doubtless he felt that, on this account, there was a wild justice in his condemnation; the presence of which, indeed, he professed to recognise with "gladness." He was willing, for the sake of future chancellors, that he should be personally punished. This is the point of view in which he was himself desirous of having his case contemplated, and it is the only one which can conduce to the advantage of his name and memory. "In the midst," he says, in his humble submission and supplication, "of a state of as great affliction as, I think, a mortal man can endure (honour being above life), I shall begin with the professing of gladness in some things. The first is, that hereafter the greatness of a judge or magistrate shall be no sanctuary or protection of guiltiness; which, in few words, is the beginning of a golden world. The next, that, after this example, it is like that judges will fly from any thing that is in the likeness of corruption (though it were at a great distance), as from a serpent; which tendeth to the purging of courts of justice, and the reducing them to 77

that, though it be my fortune to be the anvil upon which these good effects are beaten and wrought, I take no small comfort."

Having settled these few preliminaries, we are willing that the utmost latitude should be given to the defenders of the Name and Memory of Bacon. Let it be admitted, that all our knowledge of Bacon's guilt is derived from ex parte evidence. "He was not," ," says Mr. Martin, 66 confronted with his accusers-never crossexamined any of the witnesses against him-never adduced any on his own behalf. It is true, he gave up his defence, and delivered in a confession, upon which the judgment of his peers was avowedly grounded; but we have shewn, upon most undeniable evidence-positive as well as presump

tive that this confession was not his own spontaneous act, but made by order of the king. Besides, if the confession itself be narrowly examined, we shall find (as already observed) that most of the articles are palliated, or excused, or shewn to be different than as alleged in the charge; and it is plain, as an able writer remarks, that Bacon could have gone much further in this way, but for the miserable dilemma in which he was placed." Let it also be carefully observed, that "although Bacon was punished for bribery and corruption, yet, if by corruption we mean the giving of unrighteous judgments, then assuredly (as Bacon most solemnly protested) he was not guilty of that crime. Soon after the appointment of Williams, dean of Westminster, to be lord keeper, all the orders of his predecessor supposed to have been corruptly made were referred to him, by the parliament, to be reviewed; and after undergoing the severe scrutiny of one who was undoubtedly no friend to Bacon, and possibly his greatest enemy (for we strongly suspect that he counselled the king, or Buckingham, to compel Lord Bacon to abandon his defence and make submission), yet we are assured by Rushworth-himself a barrister that though gifts rendered him suspected for injustice, yet never any decree made by him was reversed as unjust, as it hath been observed by some knowing in our laws.' It is likewise affirmed by Aubrey (who may be considered a contemporary

Hobbes), that his lordship always gave judgment secundum æquum et bonum. His decrees in chancery stand firm, and there are fewer of his decrees reversed than of any other chancellor." We are not disposed to admit, as any part of his defence, the conduct of his servants; if it aggravates not their master's guilt, it does his folly, and is as great an impeachment on his philosophical character, in its practical results, as his own conduct forms on his public office. Let it suffice to prove, that he had not the troubled fountain of a corrupt heart, in a depraved habit of taking rewards to pervert justice. His own conclusion, in his own words, is all that is deducible: "There are vitia temporis as well as vitia hominis, and the beginning of reformations hath the contrary power of the pool of Bethesda; for that had strength only to cure him that was first cast in, and this has strength to hurt him only that is first cast in."

Lord Bacon should have left Experience to make fools wise; with him, Wisdom should have preceded Experience. This, perhaps, would not have been proceeding according to the rules of the Inductive Philosophy, but this point we shall fully consider before our paper closes; at present, we are desirous of canvassing some reasons given by his biographers for his practical short-comings. A prominent one is supposed to be found in his constitutional sensibility. From

his birth, Bacon was a delicate child, and so acutely sensible to atmospheric influence, that any peculiar change in this respect would cast him into a fit of fainting. This delicate and excitable temperament is (but without any proof) assumed to be the temperament of genius; and it is stated by Mr. Montagu as probable, that the temperament of genius may much depend upon such pressibility, and that to this cause the excellences and failures of Bacon may frequently be traced. Eheu! And then Coleridge is quoted, as, in his Aids to Reflection, considering this sensibility to be the foundation of the temperament of genius; that, rightly directed, it leads to all that is great and good; wrongly directed, to all that is bad and vicious; and that, in the twilight between both, there lies sentimentality more injurious perhaps than open vice. There is a slight confusion in all this. It seems to us, that

sensibility and delicate temperament are confounded; and both with a certain imbecility of physical structure. Thus genius is made dependent on certain organic conditions, instead of being the result of a strong will spiritually shaping all circumstances by a self-inherent power, whether of the world about or the body in which it operates. Nature is the quarry, the spirit is the worker. Let no man lay his faults to the account of his nervous system-the weakest may be supported by the force of a ruling mind, and Genius may coexist with the strongest. We mean most unequivocally to deny that Genius, whether philosophical or poetical, is either a quality of the nerves or the result of individual bodily temperament. Coleridge justifies no such notion in the extract alluded to. Sensibility is, according to him, the ornament and becoming attire of Virtue, though on certain occasions it may almost be said to become Virtue; but it never can altogether be said so, and therefore not truly for Truth stops not short of Integrity. According to him, Reason, Discrimination, Law, and deliberate Choice, are the distinguishing characters of Humanity; and he forbids us for Law and Light to substitute shapeless feelings, sentiments, impulses, which, as far as they differ from the vital workings in the brute animals, owe the difference to their former connexion with the proper virtues of Humanity: as dendrites derive the outlines that constitute their value above other clay-stones from the casual neighbourhood and pressure of the plants, the names of which they assume. He reminds us that Love, to be truly such, becomes Love by an inward FIAT of the Will, by a completing and sealing act of moral Election, and lays claim to permanence only under the form of DUTY. It is true that Sensibility, both by the possessor and peruser, is often mistaken as a substitute for Genius; but without Genius it is mere Selfishness Selfishness effeminate, sensuous, fragmentary; with Genius, it is the Integral Self, masculine, rational, intellectual, "simple, sensuous, and impassioned," the whole and undivided man. The apology here animadverted upon, Bacon wanted as little as any man; for although, on the one hand, he suffered his sensibility to render him too much and tremblingly alive

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