In all this, which would have been perfectly natural from an Attorney-General of the time, Bacon saw but his duty, even as a judge between the Crown and the subject.  It was what was expected of those whom the King chose to employ, and whom Buckingham chose to favour.  But a worse and more cruel case, illustrating the system which a man like Bacon could think reasonable and honourable, was the disgrace and punishment of Yelverton, the Attorney-General, the man who had stood by Bacon, and in his defence had faced Buckingham, knowing well Buckingham’s dislike of himself, when all the Court turned against Bacon in his quarrel with Coke and Lady Compton.  Towards the end of the year 1620, on the eve of a probable meeting of Parliament, there was great questioning about what was to be done about certain patents and monopolies—­monopolies for making gold and silk thread, and for licensing inns and ale-houses—­which were in the hands of Buckingham’s brothers and their agents.  The monopolies were very unpopular; there was always doubt as to their legality; they were enforced oppressively and vexatiously by men like Michell and Mompesson, who acted for the Villiers; and the profits of them went, for the most part, not into the Exchequer, but into the pockets of the hangers-on of Buckingham.  Bacon defended them both in law and policy, and his defence is thought by Mr. Gardiner to be not without grounds; but he saw the danger of obstinacy in maintaining what had become so hateful in the country, and strongly recommended that the more indefensible and unpopular patents should be spontaneously given up, the more so as they were of “no great fruit.”  But Buckingham’s insolent perversity “refused to be convinced.”  The Council, when the question was before them, decided to maintain them.  Bacon, who had rightly voted in the minority, thus explains his own vote to Buckingham:  “The King did wisely put it upon and consult, whether the patents were at this time to be removed by Act of Council before Parliament. I opined (but yet somewhat like Ovid’s mistress, that strove, but yet as one that would be overcome), that yes!” But in the various disputes which had arisen about them, Yelverton had shown that he very much disliked the business of defending monopolies, and sending London citizens to jail for infringing them.  He did it, but he did it grudgingly.  It was a great offence in a man whom Buckingham had always disliked; and it is impossible to doubt that what followed was the consequence of his displeasure.

“In drawing up a new charter for the city of London,” writes Mr. Gardiner, “Yelverton inserted clauses for which he was unable to produce a warrant.  The worst that could be said was that he had, through inadvertence, misunderstood the verbal directions of the King.  Although no imputation of corruption was brought against him, yet he was suspended from his office, and prosecuted in the Star Chamber.  He was then sentenced to dismissal from his post, to a fine