of servility than that which could induce an innocent manand that man Bacon to abandon his own defence, and allow judgment to go against him then and for ever, merely to suit the convenience of his master, that master being James I. -- Besides, even if we partly admit the truth of these purely collateral circumstances, what value have they, when weighed in the scale against Bacon's positive confession: 'I ingenuously 'confess I am guilty of corruption, do renounce all defence, and 'put myself on your lordships'? If we bear in mind that these memorable words were uttered after full time for deliberation, that Bacon at first had meditated a defence, and afterwards chose advisedly to withdraw it-that he made a prior confession of the charges which the Peers rejected as too general-and that the confession actually put in bears every trace of minute elaboration a series of facts omitted by Mr. Dixon-we hold it merely a waste of time to question that Bacon meant what he said, or to search for evidence beyond the confession. Add to this, that not once or twice, but repeatedly, he admits guilt in his subsequent letters; that he never prayed for a reversal of the sentence on the grounds of surprise or error in the judgment, though he often did on the ground of its severity; and that his tone to James and Buckingham, before his pardon had been made out, is that of a man borne down by shame, and sinking under the load of misery, but not that of injured virtue : and we canot hesitate as to our conclusion. Probability is the rule of life; and, when we have in one side of the scale, the evidence of the party most interested to lead the mind to an opposite conclusion, and yet thoroughly establishing his guilt in a long series of positive proofs, and in the other there only appear a mass of facts, in part irrelevant, and in part only raising a presumption, and a number of vague and dubious conjectures, we are bound not to shut our eyes to the balance. As regards, therefore, the general charge of abetting a bad and treacherous government, and as regards the particular acts which we have examined in these pages, we cannot say 'not 'guilty' for Bacon. The rule of criticism is that of law, enunciated in his pregnant words-it were infinite to consider the causes of causes, and their impulsions one of another;' and in judging of the moral aspect of acts we must pronounce on the evidence alone, and not run to remote conjectures. Tried by this test, the conduct of Bacon in several phases of his career cannot escape the censure of history, and must reflect discredit upon him. But in judging his character as a whole-and we gladly do so with charitable speech,' to use the mournful phrase of his will we may fairly consider several facts, and look into several probabilities which, though not sufficient to cancel wrong, nor justly admissible against proof-may fairly relieve his memory from some obloquy. We have already referred to the deep wisdom, and to the schemes of benevolence and philanthropy, which occasionally marked his public conduct; and these in justice should be set off against his faults, his sins, and his misdeeds. Brought up as he was in the air of prerogative, the son of a Tudor lawyer and judge, and the young lord keeper' of Queen Elizabeth, we can scarcely appreciate the obligation of obedience which he felt was due to the Crown by its servants, and which led him into that habit of obsequiousness and most of those disgraceful acts which have cast indelible stains upon his character. Living as he did in an age of transition, when our polity was undefined and unsettled, he felt himself not bound down by rules which are now well recognised by statesmen; and although we naturally visit him with blame for not having been as advanced in political morality as we know that he was supreme in speculation, we must bear in mind that the former quality depends as much on courage as on wisdom, and that Bacon certainly was not courageous. Nor should we forget that history gives us the most offensive parts of his character; that while it records his errors and his fall, it is probably silent as to many of his good deeds; and that these should certainly be taken into account if we would see Bacon as he really was. At a distance, as Bishop Berkeley observes, the most magnificent building appears a speck of darkness upon the landscape; and only a close approach reveals the richness and majesty of its proportions. So, let us in charity hope, may have been the life of Francis Bacon could we examine it not from afar and only on its public side, but in all its social and private relations. Mr. Dixon appears to us not to have materially altered the aspect of the case; and certainly the declamatory vehemence and rhetorical artifices which he employs are altogether out of place. We still await with interest the more mature publication of the biographical volumes with which Mr. Spedding has promised to complete his magnificent edition of the works of Bacon: but we do not conceive that any fresh manipulation of historical evidence can change the moral conviction arising from a candid survey of Bacon's life. ART. II. Historia de la Republica d'Andorra. (Published under the joint authority of the Spanish Government and the Government of the Republic of Andorre.) 1 vol. 8vo. Barcelona: 1845. IT may seem a contradiction in terms to speak of disinterring a live republic. Yet we doubt whether one in a thousand of our fellow-countrymen has cared to acquaint himself with so much as the existence of a little commonwealth which stands next in antiquity to the Patrimony of St. Peter. There is not a canton of Switzerland, nor a principality on either shore of the Euxine, nor even a free Italian municipality, but is familiar to us all. The Pays de Vaud or the Grisons, Mingrelia or Imeritia, and San Marino itself (although a single village), are wellknown names. But the Republic of Andorre-or the Handorrensian Republic, to copy the more classic language, if that phrase be admissible, of the age of Eginhard-seems, in this country at least, to have lingered in perpetual oblivion. Meanwhile, the growth of political uniformity, which M. de Montalembert so grievously deplores, is daily throwing into sharper contrast the few petty and ancient communities which remain intact; and to that pious champion of conservative tradition we commend the almost only standing monument of ten centuries of local independence in a general flood of centralisation. Whilst we write the dominions of Monaco are merged in the territories of Imperial France; and indeed, the very insignificance of Andorre serves at this moment as a no inapt illustration of the little that remains of local sovereignty in Europe. The volume cited at the head of these remarks is the only authoritative sketch of the history of the Republic of Andorre. It was published fifteen years ago by the joint authority of the Spanish and Andorrian Governments; but as its authenticity depended upon its concurrence with certain ancient charters preserved only in the least accessible regions of the Pyrenees, on which it professed to be founded, it was not readily collated with these documents. The book appears to have been manufactured under a sort of contract between the two Governments, that the Andorrian authorities should furnish from their archives the information with which the Spaniards were no doubt unacquainted, and that the Spanish authorities should compose the history, of which the Andorrians were certainly incapable. But so little has it obtained notoriety from 'publication,' that its existence still appears unknown in any other city than Barcelona; and the only copy of it we have seen exists among the people of Andorre, where it literally constituted the library of their executive chief! It is a faithful abstract of their original records, but no more than a skeleton of their oral traditions. In touching so curious a subject, it may be worth while, for the sake of those interested in the darker periods of European history, to notice the correspondence of the charters of the Republic of Andorre with the historians of the Carlovingian age. It is certainly a fact worth comment, that while nearly all the charters prior to the middle age of the German and Italian Republics have disappeared, the original charters of this Republic have remained almost unsuspected in its Pyrenean archives for more than a thousand years. But what, it may first be asked, is Andorre itself? It is a little state still holding the independence it derived from Charlemagne, too poor in modern times to provoke annexation, yet too hardy to have been subdued by its mediaval neighbours; firm and free amid every external change; with a constitution older by four centuries than Magna Charta, yet still subsisting, almost unaltered, six centuries after Magna Charta had become the basis of our laws; where even Metternich would have been deemed a revolutionist and Ricardo have been certainly denounced as an impostor; the last people in Europe to profit by the intelligence which Christianity carries in its train, yet among the first champions of Christendom against the Moorish power; a people with whom the peaceful spirit of Arcadia breathes amid the military laws of Lycurgus, a race of shepherds and farmers all trained to arms, with a history unknown to Europe, though it nevertheless cherishes the memory of its Morgartens and its Tells; a state more ignorant of the arts than the Valais, yet not less jealous of spiritual encroachment than Geneva; its valleys among the most fertile even of the South, yet approached only over mountains snow-clad in mid-autumn; a people whose Doges are peasants and whose Rothschilds are pedlers; possessing the choicest Latin manuscripts of the ninth century, yet disdaining the innovation of a printing-press even in the nineteenth; a republic without a road, without a navigable stream, and nearly without a house; where railways and telegraphs would be classed only with the Griffin and the Genius which the valour of its ancestors had driven out; such, in few words, are the salient characteristics of the little people of whom we write. But before we digress into history, we must devote a few words to geography and government. Andorre, then, is a republic isolated by mountains on every frontier, included neither in France nor in Spain, but intervening between the two countries, and (so far as their frontiers and government are concerned) by much more ancient than either. It lies between the Pyrenees of Arriège and the Pyrenees of Catalonia. The Republic consists chiefly of three valleys, one of which runs parallel with, and the two others transversely to, the great ridge of mountains that connects the Atlantic with the Mediterranean shore. The frontier commonly follows the highest ridges of the Pyrenees, and thus the Republic extends over at once moor, and snow, and vale. Its greatest length is under thirty miles, its greatest breadth is under twenty, and its population is under eight thousand. Yet the natural strength of its situation renders it, even in this age of military science and political centralisation, not readily assailable; fully fifteen hundred men, or nearly one-sixth of the population, are always prepared to defend its independence; and the passes are not ill adapted for a new Thermopylæ. This little commonwealth was carved out by Charlemagne and his son, Louis le Débonnaire, during their Moorish wars, and preserves apparently the same frontiers and principles of government which it at first assumed. The subsequent imposition, as we shall observe, of a double protectorate which does not trench on its practical independence, is the only qualification of its sovereignty to this day. The government of this peasants' commonwealth is that of an aristocracy legislating by representation. It is formed of six political divisions, each of which is coextensive with one of its six parishes. The boundaries of each appear to have remained without change from the age of Charlemagne. Each has its subordinate but distinct legislature, formed of those landholders on whose ancestors the hereditary right of legislation has been conferred. These bodies severally elect two consuls, who form the executive in each division, and serve for a year. The supreme legislature consists of twenty-four delegates of the six inferior legislatures,-four being sent by each of the local assemblies. These are the two consuls for the current year, and the two next ex-consuls in each division. This assembly, which possesses the supreme authority, elects, again, two Syndics, who are the executive of the Republic. In practice, however, the first Syndic, commonly termed the Syndic,' transacts nearly the whole of the weighty affairs of Andorre. The Republic has also a complete administrative organisation without a single paid public officer, and the largest proportionate military establishment of Europe (such as it is) without a shilling of taxation. Such is the tradition which has descended in its integrity |