the Queen's grief; but the fatal result has never been doubted. From that day, refusing the aid of medicine, or food, or rest, she sat upon the floor of her darkened chamber, and gave herself up to the most unrestrained sorrow. The spirit that had kept a world in awe was utterly prostrate; and, after a splendid and prosperous reign of forty-five years, desolate, afflicted, and weary of existence, she lingered till the 24th of March, on which day she died. For my name and memory I leave it to men's charitable speeches, and to foreign nations and the next ages. Lord Bacon's Will. THE CHARACTER AND DEATH OF LORD BACON. In his analysis of human nature, Bacon considers first the general properties of man, and then the peculiar properties of his body and of his mind. This mode may be adopted in reviewing his life. It is He was of a temperament of the most delicate sensibility so excitable, as to be affected by the slightest alterations in the atmosphere. probable that the temperament of genius may much depend upon such pressibility, and that to this cause the excellencies and failures of Bacon may frequently be traced. His health was always delicate, and, to use his own expression, he was all his life puddering with physic. He was of a middle stature, and well proportioned; his features were handsome and expressive, and his countenance, until it was injured by politics and worldly warfare, singularly placid. There is a portrait of him when he was only eighteen now extant, on which the artist has recorded his despair of doing justice to his subject, by the inscription, “Si tabula daretur digna, animum mallem." His portraits differ beyond what may be considered a fair allowance for the varying skill of the artist, or the natural changes which time wrought upon his person; but none of them contradict the description given by one who knew him well, "that he had a spacious forehead and piercing eye, looking upward as a soul in sublime contemplation, a countenance worthy of one who was to set free captive philosophy." His life of mind was never exceeded, perhaps never equalled. When a child "No childish play to him was pleasing :" while his companions were diverting themselves in the park he was occupied in meditating upon the causes of the echoes and the nature of imagination. In after life he was a master of the science of harmony, and the laws of imagination he studied with peculiar care, and well understood. The same penetration he extended to colours, and to the heavenly bodies, and predicted the modes by which their laws would be discovered, and which, after the lapse of a century, were so beautifully elucidated by Newton. The extent of his views was immense. He stood on a cliff, and surveyed the whole of nature. His vigilant observation of what we, in common |