ties wisdome and goodnes I have made my judges, whoe have ever bine, and

Shall euer remain,

Your Majesty's most humble vassall

W. RALEGH.

XXVIII.

Lyly, though still a young man in 1582, was already famous as the author of Euphues,' the manual of stately morality among the courtiers of Queen Elizabeth. He had flourished under the protection of Lord Burleigh since he left Oxford in 1574, and we do not know under what circumstances he incurred the displeasure of the High Treasurer. He was probably soon taken into favour again, for we find him about the Court until the end of the century.

It hath plesed my Lord vpon what colour I cannot tell, certaine I am vpon no cause, to be displesed with me, ye grief whereof is more then the losse can be. But seeing I am to liue in ye world, I must also be judged by the world, for that an honest seruaunt must be such as Cæsar wold haue his wif, not only free from synne, but from suspicion. And for that I wish nothing more then to commit all my waies to your wisdome and the deuises of others to your iudgment, I here yeld both my self and my soule, the one to be tried by your honnor, the other by the iustic of god; and if I doubt not but my dealings being sifted, the world shall find white meale, where others thought to show cours branne.

It may be manie things wilbe objected, but yf any thing can be proued I doubt, I know your L. will soone smell deuises from simplicity, trueth from trecherie, factions from just servis. And god is my witnes, before whome I speak, and before whome for my speache I shal aunswer, yat all my thoughtes concerning my L. haue byne ever reuerent, and almost relligious. How I haue dealt god knoweth and my Lady can conjecture, so faithfullie, as I am as vnspotted for dishonestie, as a suckling from theft. This conscins of myne maketh me presume to stand to all trialls, ether of accomptes, or counsell, in the one I neuer vsed falshood nor in the

other dissembling. My most humble suit therfore vnto your L. is yat my accusations be not smothered and I choaked in ye smoak, but that they maie be tried in ye fire, and I will stand to the heat. And my only comfort is, yat ye yat is wis shall judge trueth, whos nakednes shall manifest her noblenes. But I will not troble your honorable eares, with so meinie idle words only this upon my knees I ask, yat your L. will vousalf to talk with me, and in all things will I shew my self so honest, yat my disgrac shall bring to your L. as great meruell, as it hath done to me grief, and so thoroughly will I satisfie everie objection, yat your L. shall think me faithfull, though infortunat. That your honnor rest persuaded of myne honest mynd, and my Lady of my true servis, that all things may be tried to ye vttermost, is my desire, and the only reward I craue for my iust (iust I dare term it) servis. And thus in all humility submitting my caus to your wisdome and my consins to ye trieall. I cominit your L. to the Almightie. Your L. most dutifullie to commaund

JOHN LYLY.

XXIX.

That ruling tyrant of the English Bar, Sir Edward Coke, was a chronic thorn in the side of Sir Francis Bacon. Jealous of the increasing political and literary fame of his adversary, Coke, both in word and action, exercised all his ingenuity to lower the credit of his accomplished countryman. His affected depreciation of the writings of the author of The Advancement of Learning,' betrayed a petty malignity of spirit which the philosopher did not deign to notice. Not so his studied insolence of behaviour, which brought out the following neat letter of expostulation.

Sir Francis Bacon to Sir Edward Coke.

[Before June 1606.]

Mr. Attorney, I thought best once for all, to let you know in plainness what I find of you, and what you shall find of me. You take to yourself a liberty to disgrace and disable my law, my experience, my discretion. What it pleaseth you, I pray, think of me: I am one that knows both mine own wants and other mens; and it may be, perchance, that mine mend, when others stand at a stay. And surely I may not endure, in public place, to be wronged without repelling the same to my best advantage to right myself. You are great, and therefore have the more enviers,

which would be glad to have you paid at another's cost. Since the time I missed the solicitor's place, the rather I think by your means, I cannot expect that you and I shall ever serve as attorney and solicitor together: but either to serve with another upon your remove, or to step into some other course; so as I am more free than ever I was from any occasion of unworthy conforming myself to you, more than general good manners, or your particular good usage shall provoke; and if you had not been short-sighted in your own fortune, as I think you might have had more use of But that tide is passed.

me.

I write not this to shew my friends what a brave letter I have written to Mr. Attorney; I have none of those humours; but that I have written is to a good end, that is, to the more decent carriage of my master's service, and to our particular better understanding one of another. This letter, if it shall be answered by you in deed, and not in word, I suppose it will not be worse for us both; else it is but a few lines lost, which for a much smaller matter I would have adventured. So this being to yourself, I for my part rest &c.

XXX.

This little gem, composed in honour of the founder of the Bodleian Library, lies half-hidden in a ponderous volume entitled Cabala, consisting of some very important correspondence of the Elizabethan and early Stuart period. The letter is also published in some editions of Bacon's works. So graceful a recognition of services to literature from the man of all others most capable of appreciating them, must have been very gratifying to the courtly diplomatist, Sir Thomas Bodley, at a time when public benefactions were sparingly acknowledged.

Sir Francis Bacon to Sir Thomas Bodley, upon sending him his book on the Advancement of Learning.'

1607.

Sir, I think no man may more truly say with the Psalm, multum incola fuit anima mea. For I do confess, since I was of any understanding, my mind hath in effect, been absent from that I have done, and in absence errours are committed, which I do willingly acknowledge; and amongst the rest, this great one that led the rest; that knowing my self by inward calling to be fitter to hold a Book, than to play a Part, I have led my Life in civil

by Nature, and more unfit Therefore calling my self

Causes; for which I was not very fit by the pre-occupation of my Mind. home, I have now for a time enjoyed my self; where likewise I desire to make the World partaker; my labours (if so I may term that which was the comfort of my other labours) I have dedicated to the King, desirous if there be any good in them, it may be as fat of a Sacrifice incensed to his Honour; and the second Copy have sent unto you, not only in good affection, but in a kind of Congruity, in regard of your Great and rare desert of learning. For Books are the Shrines where the Saint is, or is believed to be. And you having built an Ark to save Learning from Deluge, deserve in Propriety, any new Instrument or Engine, whereby Learning should be Improved or Advanced.

XXXI.

Although the nation at large was proud of Bacon as orator, lawyer, statesman, and philosopher, and applauded his rise to the woolsack and to the dignity of Viscount St. Albans as warmly as they did his unrivalled attainments, yet so heinous was the sin of judicial bribery considered, that his conviction by the Parliament of malpractices in the High Court of Chancery was followed by a national cry for his punishment.

The following letter was written before the formal impeachment was carried to the House of Peers, and while the charges of bribery and corruption were being collected.

Lord Chancellor Bacon to King James I.

March 25, 1621.

May it please your most excellent Majesty,-Time hath been when I have brought unto you gemitum columbæ from others, now I bring it from myself. I fly unto your Majesty with the wings of a dove, which once within these seven days I thought would have carried me a higher flight. When I enter into myself, I find not the materials of such a tempest as is come upon me: I have been, as your majesty knoweth best, never author of any immoderate counsel, but always desired to have things carried suavibus modis. I have been no avaricious oppressor of the people. I have been no haughty, or intolerable, or hateful man, in my conversation or carriage. I have inherited no hatred from my father, but am a good patriot born. Whence should this be? For these are the things that use to raise dislikes abroad.

For the house of Commons, I began my credit there, and now it must be the place of the sepulture thereof; and yet this parliament, upon the message touching religion, the old love revived, and they said, I was the same man still, only honesty was turned into honour. For the upper house, even within these days, before these troubles, they seemed as to take me into their arms, finding in me ingenuity, which they took to be the true straight line of nobleness, without any crooks or angles.

And for the briberies and gifts wherewith I am charged, when the books of hearts shall be opened, I hope I shall not be found to have the troubled fountain of a corrupt heart, in a depraved habit of taking rewards to pervert justice; howsoever I may be frail, and partake of the abuses of the times.

And therefore I am resolved, when I come to my answer, not to trick up my innocency, as I writ to the lords, by cavillations or voidances; but to speak to them the language that my heart speaketh to me, in excusing, extenuating, or ingenuously confessing; praying to God to give me the grace to see the bottom of my faults, and that no hardness of heart do steal upon me, under shew of more neatness of conscience, than is cause. But not to trouble your majesty any longer, craving pardon for this long mourning letter; that which I thirst after, as the hart after the streams, is, that I may know, by my matchless friend that presenteth to you this letter, your majesty's heart (which is an abyssus of goodness, as I am an abyssus of misery) towards me. I have been ever your man, and counted myself but an usufructuary of myself, the property being yours. And now making myself an oblation to do with me as may best conduce to the honour of your justice, the honour of your mercy, and the use of your service, resting as clay in your majesty's gracious hands. &c., &c.

XXXII.

The excellent counsel vouchsafed in this letter by James I. to his eldest son, supplemented as it was by the Royal instructions contained in the printed book' (Basilicon Doron), was not addressed to a heedless boy, but to a clever princeling whose activity of mind, firm sincerity, and ardent piety contrasted with the vanity and pedantry of his father. In losing Prince Henry at the early age of nineteen, the nation lost, in all appearance, a ruler capable of reviving the best features of Plantagenet government.