Essex disdained to sue the queen for a pardon, and was privately beheaded in the Tower. He merited his fate, if the offence of which he was guilty deserved such a punishment. It is impossible not to be interested in the fate of a man so brave, high-spirited, and generous, the idol of the people, and the victor in so many enterprises. Some historians maintain that Elizabeth relented, and would have saved her favorite, had he only implored her clemency; but this statement is denied by others; nor have we any evidence to believe that Essex, caught with arms against the sovereign who had honored him, could have averted his fate. Elizabeth may have wept for the death of the nobleman she had loved. It is certain that, after his death, she never regained her spirits, and that a deep melancholy was visible in her countenance. All her actions showed a deeply-settled inward grief, and that she longed for death, having tasted the unsubstantial nature of human greatness. She survived the execution of Essex two years, but lived long enough to see the neglect into which she was every day falling, and to feel that, in spite of all her glory and power, she was not exempted from drinking the cup of bitterness. [Sidenote: Character of Elizabeth.] Whatever unamiable qualities she evinced as a woman, in spite of her vanity, and jealousy, and imperious temper, her reign was one of the most glorious in the annals of her country. The policy of Burleigh was the policy of Sir Robert Walpole--that of peace, and a desire to increase the resources of the kingdom. Her taxes were never oppressive, and were raised without murmur; the people were loyal and contented; the Protestant religion was established on a firm foundation; and a constellation of great men shed around her throne the bright rays of immortal genius.