his
disgust showed itself in the impeachment of the highest among the
officers of State.

[Sidenote: Fall of Bacon.]

At the accession of James the rays of royal favour, so long looked for
in vain, had broken slowly upon Francis Bacon. He became successively
Solicitor and Attorney-General; the year of Shakspere's death saw him
called to the Privy Council; he verified Elizabeth's prediction by
becoming Lord Keeper. At last the goal of his ambition was reached. He
had attached himself to the rising fortunes of Buckingham, and in 1618
the favour of Buckingham made him Lord Chancellor. He was raised to the
peerage as Baron Verulam, and created, at a later time, Viscount St.
Albans. But the nobler dreams for which these meaner honours had been
sought escaped Bacon's grasp. His projects still remained projects,
while to retain his hold on office he was stooping to a miserable
compliance with the worst excesses of Buckingham and his master. The
years during which he held the Chancellorship were, in fact, the most
disgraceful years of a disgraceful reign. They saw the execution of
Ralegh, the sacrifice of the Palatinate, the exaction of benevolences,
the multiplication of monopolies, the supremacy of Buckingham. Against
none of the acts of folly and wickedness which distinguished James's
government did Bacon do more than protest; in some of the worst, and
above all in the attempt to coerce the judges into prostrating the law
at the king's feet, he took a personal part. But even his protests were
too much for the young favourite, who regarded him as the mere creature
of his will. It was in vain that Bacon flung himself on the Duke's
mercy, and begged him to pardon a single instance of opposition to his
caprice. A Parliament was impending, and Buckingham resolved to avert
from himself the storm which was gathering by sacrificing to it his
meaner dependants.

To ordinary eyes the Chancellor was at the summit of human success.
Jonson had just sung of him as one "whose even thread the Fates spin
round and full out of their choicest and their whitest wool" when the
storm burst. The Commons charged Bacon with corruption in the exercise
of his office. It had been customary among Chancellors to receive gifts
from successful suitors after their suit was ended. Bacon, it is
certain, had taken such gifts from men whose suits were still unsettled;
and though his judgement may have been unaffected by them, the fact of
their reception lef