From this time to the death of the Queen, Raleigh enjoyed an uninterrupted course of favour. The ancient enmity between Essex and himself was indeed renewed, and that with increased rancour; but the indiscretions of the favourite had greatly weakened his influence. Raleigh and Cecil spared no pains to undermine him, and were in fact the chief workers of his ruin. This is perhaps the most unamiable passage in Raleigh’s life; and the only excuse to be pleaded for him is, the determined enmity of that unfortunate nobleman. This fault, however, brought a slow but severe punishment with it; for the death of Essex dissolved the tie which held together Cecil and himself. Neither could be content to act second to the other; and Raleigh’s high reputation, and versatile as well as profound abilities, might well alarm the secretary for his own supremacy. The latter took the surest way of establishing his power prospectively. Elizabeth was now old: Cecil took no steps to diminish the high esteem in which she held Sir Walter Raleigh, but he secretly laboured to prejudice her successor against him, and he succeeded to his wish. Very soon after the accession of James I., Raleigh’s post of captain of the guard was taken from him; and his patent of wines was revoked, though not without a nominal compensation being made. To complete his ruin, it was contrived to involve him in a charge of treason. Most writers have concurred in speaking of this passage of history as inexplicable: it is the opinion of the last historian of Raleigh, Mr. Tytler, that he has found sufficient evidence for regarding the whole plot as a device of Cecil, and he has supported this opinion by cogent arguments. Lord Cobham, a violent and ambitious but weak man, had engaged in private dealings with the Spanish ambassador, which brought him under the suspicion of the government. By a device of Cecil’s (we here follow the account of Mr. Tytler) he was induced, in a fit of anger, and in the belief that Raleigh had given information against him, to accuse Sir Walter himself of being privy to a conspiracy against the government. This charge Cobham retracted, confirmed, and retracted again, behaving in so equivocal a manner, that no reliance whatever can be placed on any of his assertions. But as the King was afraid of Raleigh as much as the secretary hated him, this vague charge, unsupported by other evidence, was made sufficient to commit him to the Tower; and, after being plied with private examinations, in which nothing criminal could be elicited, he was brought to trial, November 17, 1603. For an account of that memorable scene we shall refer to Mr. Jardine’s ‘Criminal Trials,’ vol. i. It is reported to have been said by one of the judges who presided over it, on his death-bed, that “the justice of England had never been so degraded and injured as by the condemnation of Sir Walter Raleigh.” The behaviour of the victim himself was the object of universal