His Sowship’s prime Minister, Cecil (for I cannot do better than call
his majesty what his favourite called him), was the enemy of Sir Walter
Raleigh, and also of Sir Walter’s political friend, Lord Cobham; and
his Sowship’s first trouble was a plot originated by these two, and
entered into by some others, with the old object of seizing the King
and keeping him in imprisonment until he should change his ministers.
There were Catholic priests in the plot, and there were Puritan
noblemen too; for, although the Catholics and Puritans were strongly
opposed to each other, they united at this time against his Sowship,
because they knew that he had a design against both, after pretending
to be friendly to each; this design being to have only one high and
convenient form of the Protestant religion, which everybody should be
bound to belong to, whether they liked it or not. This plot was mixed
up with another, which may or may not have had some reference to
placing on the throne, at some time, the Lady Arabella Stuart; whose
misfortune it was, to be the daughter of the younger brother of his
Sowship’s father, but who was quite innocent of any part in the scheme.
Sir Walter Raleigh was accused on the confession of Lord Cobham—a
miserable creature, who said one thing at one time, and another thing
at another time, and could be relied upon in nothing. The trial of Sir
Walter Raleigh lasted from eight in the morning until nearly midnight;
he defended himself with such eloquence, genius, and spirit against all
accusations, and against the insults of Coke, the Attorney-General—who,
according to the custom of the time, foully abused him—that those who
went there detesting the prisoner, came away admiring him, and
declaring that anything so wonderful and so captivating was never
heard. He was found guilty, nevertheless, and sentenced to death.
Execution was deferred, and he was taken to the Tower. The two Catholic
priests, less fortunate, were executed with the usual atrocity; and
Lord Cobham and two others were pardoned on the scaffold. His Sowship
thought it wonderfully knowing in him to surprise the people by
pardoning these three at the very block; but, blundering, and bungling,
as usual, he had very nearly overreached himself. For, the messenger on
horseback who brought the pardon, came so late, that he was pushed to
the outside of the crowd, and was obliged to shout and roar out what he
came for. The miserable Cobham did not gain much by being spared that
day. He lived, both as a prisoner and a beggar, utterly despised, and
miserably poor, for thirteen years, and then died in an old outhouse
belonging to one of his former servants.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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