But all this cringing to the Crown, the coronet, and the mitre, did not serve him: he was required by the Peers to make a separate and distinct answer to each charge. He complied fully with the demand, confessing everything; and when a deputation from the Lords waited on him to know whether this was his own voluntary act—for they excused him the humiliation of appearing at the bar of the House—he replied with tears, "It is my act—my hand—my heart. Oh, my lords, spare a broken reed!" This full and explicit confession being read in the House, on the 3rd of May the Commons, headed by their Speaker, attended to demand judgment, which the Lord Chief Justice, acting as Speaker of the Upper House, declared to this effect:—That the Lord Chancellor being found guilty of many acts of bribery and corruption, both by his own confession and the evidence of witnesses, he was condemned to pay a fine of forty thousand pounds, to be imprisoned in the Tower during the king's pleasure, to be dismissed from all his offices, and deemed incapable of either holding office again or sitting in Parliament, and to be prohibited from coming within twelve miles of the seat of Parliament.
The king remitted the fine, for the best of reasons—that Bacon had nothing to pay it with; he also liberated him from the Tower after a mere pro formâ imprisonment of a few days, and Bacon retired to hide his dishonour at his house at Gorhambury, near St. Albans. Nor had his fall extinguished all admiration for him as a great lawyer and philosopher. Even in the House Sir Robert Philips, Sir Edward Sackville, and others, reminded the public of the Lord Chancellor's wonderful genius and acquirements; and as Prince Charles returned from hunting one day, he beheld "a coach accompanied by a goodly troop of horsemen," escorting the ex-Lord Chancellor to his house at Gorhambury.
In that beautiful retreat, it was in Bacon's power to have so lived and so written, that his disgrace as a statesman would have been soon lost in the splendour of his genius and the dignified wisdom of his latter years. But unfortunately Bacon was steeped to the core in the love of worldly greatness, and the five years that he lived were rendered still more miserable and still more contemptible by his incessant hankering after restoration to place and honour, and his persevering and cringing importunities to the king and Buckingham for these objects. To such a length did the wretched man proceed, that his letters became actually impious. He told the prince that as the king, his father, had been his creator, he had hoped that he would be his redeemer. The works which he completed after his disgrace were only such as could result from so miserable a condition of mind. They were suggested to him by the king, but were not executed with the zest of his own inclination. They consisted chiefly of a life of Henry VII., a revision of his former works, and the superintendence of a Latin translation of them. At length, finding all his efforts vain to move the king towards his restoration, his health and temper gave way, and he died on the 9th of April, 1626, the melancholy victim of an unworthy ambition.
GEORGE VILLIERS, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
(After the Portrait by Van Dyck.)
The Commons had rendered a very valuable service by these impeachments of public men, and one which has since then operated as a precedent in the hands of Parliament to check and punish on a large scale the too daring and unprincipled servants of the Crown. But, as if carried beyond themselves by their success, they now fell into a grievous error, and displayed a spirit as aggressive in themselves, as it was cruel, bigoted, and unconstitutional. One Edward Floyd, a Catholic barrister, a prisoner in the Fleet, was reported to have exulted in the success of the Catholics in Germany over the Elector Palatine. This being mentioned in the Commons, that august body took immediately such violent offence, that it was proposed by members to nail him by the ears, bore him through the tongue, set him in the pillory, and so forth. On inquiry, all that could be substantiated against him was, that he had said "that goodman Palsgrave and goodwife Palsgrave had been driven from Prague."
For this paltry offence—which would not now attract a passing notice in a newspaper—the Commons adjudged Floyd to pay a fine of one thousand pounds, to stand in the pillory in three different places, and to be carried from place to place on a horse without a saddle, and with his face to the tail. The Commons had clearly stepped out of their jurisdiction to adjudge a man who was no member of their House, and Floyd instantly appealed to the king against the proceeding. James, who had so often been checked in his prerogative by the Commons, did not neglect this grand opportunity of rebuking their error. He sent the very next morning to demand by what authority they condemned one who did not belong to them, nor had committed any breach of their privileges; and still more, by what right they sentenced him without evidence taken on oath?
This was a posing inquiry. The House was greatly disconcerted, for they were clearly in the wrong, and the king in the right. It was a hard matter, however, to confess their fault: the case was debated warmly for several days; but at length it was agreed to confer with the Peers, who asserted that the Commons had invaded their privilege of pronouncing judgment in such cases. The Commons still contended that they had a right to administer an oath, and therefore to pass judgment. But the Lords would not admit this, and it was agreed that the Lords should sentence Floyd, which they proceeded to do, as exercising their own exclusive right, the Commons contending that the Lords now judged him by a similar right by which they had already judged him. The sentence was severe enough to satisfy the Commons. The fine was increased from one to five thousand pounds, Floyd was to be flogged at the cart's tail from the Fleet to Westminster Hall, to sit in the pillory, to be degraded from the rank of a gentleman, to be held infamous, and to be imprisoned in Newgate for life.
Perhaps so atrocious a sentence was never pronounced for so trivial an offence. It showed how little either the Lords or Commons were yet to be trusted with the lives and liberties of the subject, and how ill-defined were still their functions. The public expressed its abhorrence of the barbarous proceeding, and Prince Charles exerted himself to procure a mitigation of the punishment, but could only succeed in obtaining the remission of the flogging. The Commons having executed so much justice and so much injustice, but making no approach to a vote of further supplies, James adjourned Parliament on the 4th of June to November. Vehement as had been the wrath of the Commons against a disrespectful allusion to the Palsgrave, they had done nothing towards the defence of his territory. As the public were by no means so indifferent on this point, the fear of their constituents suddenly flashed on the Commons, and they then made a declaration that if nothing effectual was done during the recess for the restoration of the Elector Palatine and the Protestant religion, they would sacrifice their lives and fortunes in the cause. This was not only carried by acclamation, but Coke, falling on his knees, with many tears and signs of deep emotion, read aloud the collect for the king and royal family from the Book of Common Prayer.