And thus, the vile, mean enemies of this great English worthy had worked their wicked will. Cranfield became Lord-Treasurer and Earl of Middlesex; Buckingham obtained a lease of York House; Coke gloated over the downfall of his illustrious rival; Williams obtained the Seals; and their minions and instruments battened on corruption, and grew fat with the spoils of the nation. Meanwhile the disgraced but not dishonoured ex-Chancellor was carried (May 31) to the Tower, bearing with him still, even in this dark and cloudy hour, the love and friendship of Ben Jonson; of the learned Selden, and the pious George Herbert; of Hobbes, the philosopher of Malmesbury, Sir Henry Savile, Sir Robert Cotton, and many of the best and brightest of the illustrious sons of England.

But he was removed from the Tower, by the King's especial order, on the very same night. James knew he was not guilty, and, spite of his meannesses of character and littlenesses of mind, the royal pedant appreciated the genius and virtues of the illustrious victim. He allowed him, therefore, to remove to Gorhambury, a very elysium of repose for a sick and weary prisoner, but not very welcome to Bacon's energetic and active mind, which was fain to have plunged once more into the tumult of a political life. But he soon returned, with his wonted tranquillity, to the studies in which his soul had always delighted. And for pastime he had his birds and his dogs, his blooming gardens, his young plantations, his music, his "Nicotian weed," his game at bowls. To this interval of enforced quiet the world is indebted for a more perfect edition of his "Essays"-for his weighty "History of Henry VII.," and a Latin translation of the "Advancement of Learning."

VERULAM HOUSE.

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His retreat is worth a sketch; and we borrow one from the vivid pencil of an artist:-"The Gothic pile, enlarged by Sir Nicholas for Lady Anne, which had come into his possession on his brother's death, stood high and dry above the water; and as the stream would not flow up to his house, he took his house down to the stream. Avenues of stately trees sloped from the hall-door to the little lakes, which, four or five acres in extent, were kept bright as crystal, filled with brilliant fish, and paved with pebbles of various hues. On the bank of one of these lakelets he had built Verulam House, a tiny but enchanted palace, one front leaning on the water, the other glancing, under oak and elm, up the long leafy arcade to his mother's house. This place was furnished and complete. The larders and kitchens were underground; through the centre of the block ran a staircase, delicately carved; on the rests and landings a series of figures-a bishop, a friar, a king, and the like-not one repeated either in idea or execution; on the door of the upper story statues of Jupiter, Apollo, and the round of gods. Beauty and luxury combined. Chimney-pieces prettily wrought, rooms lofty and wainscotted, baths, oratories, divans. Shafts from the chimneys ran round the rooms, with cushions on these shafts, so as to garner up the heat. The roof, which was flat and leaded, in the Eastern manner, commanded views of wood and water, plain and upland, with the square plain Saxon tower of St. Alban's Abbey high above all. In the centre pond rose a Roman temple or banqueting-room, paved with black and white marble. One of the doors had a device of mirrors, so that a stranger fancied he was looking into the gardens when the door was closed."

It was here, at Verulam House, and in the pursuit of letters, that Bacon's wounded spirit sought repose.

CHAPTER VIII.-BACON'S VINDICATION AND DEATH.

Coke Disgraced-Bacon restored to his Honours-His Literary Labours-His growing Weakness-Makes his Will-The Marquis d'Effiat-Ben Jonson's Eulogium-Bacon's Scientific Studies-An Experiment in the Snow-His severe Illness-His Death.

IN due time a change came over the spirit of the scene. Coke, recently so prosperous and exultant, was speedily reduced to a position of great abasement, and consigned to the Tower as a prisoner, whose fall no man regretted. James and his favourite were conscious that they had treated Bacon with undeserved severity, had left him, with undignified haste, to the malice of his foes. From all the best and worthiest in the land* came prayers and petitions that they would restore him in some measure to the position he had formerly enjoyed,

* Bacon's popularity, I may note, arose from his eloquence as an orator, and his genius as judge and statesman, rather than from any just appreciation by the public of his matchless wisdom as a philosopher. Dr. Rawley, his chaplain and biographer, observes, when writing a few years after Bacon's death: "His fame is greater and sounds louder in foreign parts abroad than at home in his own nation, thereby verifying that divine sentence, a prophet is not without honour, save in his own country and his own house." Not even the learned and scientific comprehended the value of Bacon's labours. "Bacon was no great philosopher," said the illustrious Harvey; "he writes philosophy like a Lord-Chancellor." Sir Edward Coke received a presentation copy of the "Novam Organum." The device on the title-page represents a ship passing between the pillars of Hercules, with the proud motto of Plus Ultra. The narrow-minded lawyer wrote above it, in allusion to the German satire of "The Ship of Fools," a miserable distich :"It deserveth not to be read in schools,

But to be freighted in the Ship of Fools."

It is thus that the mole ridicules the folly of the eagle, which soars with unquailing eye into the full blaze of the sun's noontide glory!

WAITING ON THE THRESHOLD.

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and remit him the heavy fine which threatened to shadow his later years with all the terrible ignominy of pecuniary troubles. The King consented. As a prelude, the great philosopher was paid the arrears due upon a patent which he held, and his annuity of £1200 was also restored to him. Bacon, in his turn, gratified Buckingham by yielding up the lease of York House, and felt the immediate effect of his prudent compliance in the permission accorded him to revisit London. There he took up his residence at Bedford House, in the Strand, and sent forth to the world his "History of Henry VII.," his "Historia Vitæ et Mortis," and his "History of the Winds." He did not, however, relax his endeavours to secure a complete reversal of his sentence, that he might once more re-appear in the arena of political life—where, as in the quieter sphere of learned studies, he knew, with the noble self-confidence of genius, that he had neither superior nor equal. He was ultimately successful. A full pardon being granted to him, he was once more entitled to take his place among his peers.

But no Parliament was summoned during the remainder of James's reign, and, after the accession of Charles I., the statesman was prevented by his age and sufferings from taking his seat. Already, the silver cord was loosed; the golden bowl broken. A frame, naturally weak, was bent and bowed by severe study, by deep suffering, by the consciousness of wrong endured. The philosopher still held his pen in eloquent fingers, but he felt that the end was near, and made ready to meet it with the patient heroism of a Christian. He reconciled himself to his enemies—even to the specious and crafty Williams-and made his will, in due preparation for the change that (174)

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was at hand. Still, from all parts of Christendom, came the great and learned, anxious to gaze for a moment upon the countenance, or listen to the voice, of the great apostle of Experimental Philosophy. Visited by the Marquis d'Effiat,* and unwilling to expose the ravages of a cruel disease, Bacon received him in a darkened bed-chamber, and with curtains drawn. "You resemble the angels," said the Frenchman, courteously; "we hear them frequently spoken of; we know them to be superior to mankind; and yet we have never the consolation to see them." "My infirmities," rejoined Bacon, gravely, "tell me I am a man."

It was when thinking of this noble close to the great philosopher's career that Ben Jonson wrote,-" My conceit towards his person was never increased by his place or honours; but I have and do reverence him for the greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to me ever by his works one of the greatest men, and most worthy of admiration, that had been in many ages in his adversity I ever prayed that God would give him strength,--for greatness he could not want;neither could I condole in a word or syllable for him, as knowing no accident could do harm to virtue, but rather help to make it manifest."

By means of the sweet air of the country, his health during the autumn of 1625 somewhat improved, but the terrible winter which followed compelled him to remove to Gray's Inn for the benefit of medical advice. He was now keenly engaged in the preparation of a new edition. of his "Natural History," and was examining into the most reliable methods of preventing the putrefaction of animal

* He had accompanied Henrietta Maria to England.