ass in writing. But they saved his dignity at the
expense of his substantial reputation. The observation that the charges
against him were not sifted by cross-examination applies equally to his
answers to them. The allegations of both sides would have come down to
us in a more trustworthy shape if the case had gone on. But to give up
the struggle, and to escape by any humiliation from a regular public
trial, seems to have been his only thought when he found that the King
and Buckingham could not or would not save him.

But the truth is that he knew that a trial of this kind was a trial only
in name. He knew that, when a charge of this sort was brought, it was
not meant to be really investigated in open court, but to be driven home
by proofs carefully prepared beforehand, against which the accused had
little chance. He knew, too, that in those days to resist in earnest an
accusation was apt to be taken as an insult to the court which
entertained it. And further, for the prosecutor to accept a submission
and confession without pushing to the formality of a public trial, and
therefore a public exposure, was a favour. It was a favour which by his
advice, as against the King's honour, had been refused to Suffolk; it
was a favour which, in a much lighter charge, had by his advice been
refused to his colleague Yelverton only a few months before, when Bacon,
in sentencing him, took occasion to expatiate on the heinous guilt of
misprisions or mistakes in men in high places. The humiliation was not
complete without the trial, but it was for humiliation and not fair
investigation that the trial was wanted. Bacon knew that the trial would
only prolong his agony, and give a further triumph to his enemies.

That there was any plot against Bacon, and much more that Buckingham to
save himself was a party to it, is of course absurd. Buckingham, indeed,
was almost the only man in the Lords who said anything for Bacon, and,
alone, he voted against his punishment. But considering what Buckingham
was, and what he dared to do when he pleased, he was singularly cool in
helping Bacon. Williams, the astute Dean of Westminster, who was to be
Bacon's successor as Lord Keeper, had got his ear, and advised him not
to endanger himself by trying to save delinquents. He did not. Indeed,
as the inquiry went on, he began to take the high moral ground; he was
shocked at the Chancellor's conduct; he would not have believed that it
could have been so bad;