people raised thunders of acclamations as the victorious vessels sailed into port. But the gallant and magnanimous deeds of Essex had been gall and wormwood to the Cecils, and they had neglected no means of injuring him in his absence. Essex had succeeded ever since the death of Walsingham—that is, for six years—in preventing the dearest wish of Burleigh's heart, to see his son, Sir Robert, established in his post. Whilst Essex was away he carried this point with the queen; and the courtiers, now auguring the ascendancy of the Cecils, united in defaming Essex to win favour with them. They talked freely of the vain-glory, rashness, extravagance, and dissipations of Essex. They represented the fall of Cadiz as entirely owing to the naval victory, which they ascribed to Raleigh; and we are sorry to say that Raleigh, who had beheld with envy the heroism and generous magnanimity of Essex, was only too ready to join in the base design. Raleigh was not always as liberal of his encomiums on his contemporaries as he was on the queen; and even towards her his language was very different the moment she was dead. Then, in his mouth she was everything that was old, ugly, mean, avaricious, headstrong, and unjust. In Osborne and Sir Lewis Stukely may be seen the language which he used towards Elizabeth after her death. "However," he said, "she seemed a great and good mistress to him in the eyes of the world, yet she was tyrannical enough to lay many of her oppressions on him, besides seizing the best part of everything he took at sea for herself," &c. &c.
On this occasion, though Raleigh had done bravely in his ship, the Warspite—for, with all his faults, he was no coward—yet his jealousy led him to oppose the plan of Essex for attacking the merchant fleet; and whilst they were wrangling, the Duke of Medina got them unladen and burnt. Essex—who ought to have been received by the queen as one of the most brilliant and successful generals that she ever had—by the arts of the Cecils and their partisans, was thus met, not only by coldness, but severity. Elizabeth told him that he had been doing his own pleasure, and she would now take care that he should do hers. No time was lost by the Cecils in letting her know that though the fleet had come home almost sinking with treasure, nothing was left to her share but to bear the cost of the expedition. Then the fierce ire of the Tudor blazed out. Avarice was one of her most besetting sins, as it had been that of her father and grandfather. She summoned Essex and the lord admiral before her; and refusing even to Essex any opportunity of private explanation, she made them account to the Privy Council for their conduct, and assured them that, as they had allowed the booty to be divided without reserving a fund for the payment of the soldiers and sailors, they might pay them themselves, for she would not; that the expedition had cost her £50,000, and she looked to them, who knew where the booty was gone, to refund it.
Day after day she subjected Essex to the scrutiny and cross-questioning of his enemies in the Council, till, luckily for him, there came the news that the Spanish treasures from the New World had just arrived safely in port with 20,000,000 of dollars. This put the climax to Elizabeth's exasperation; and Essex, who, since his return from the expedition, as if to take away every ground for the censure of the courtiers, had assumed a totally new character, and was no longer the gay and pleasure-seeking young nobleman, but the grave and religious man; who lived at home with his countess, attended her to church, and exhibited the most pious demeanour; who, instead of his haughty and irritable temper, had displayed the utmost patience and forbearance under the galling examination of the Council, now broke out at once with the declaration that he had done every-thing in his power to persuade his colleagues to permit him to sail to Tercera to intercept this very fleet; that the creatures of the Cecils had opposed him resolutely, defeated the enterprise, and robbed the queen of this princely treasure.
Instantly the whole current of Elizabeth's feelings underwent a change. The anger which had been directed towards Essex was launched at Burleigh, and Essex stood restored to his wonted favour. With the favour of the queen, back rolled the tide of courtier sycophancy towards Essex; and such was the feeling exhibited, that even "the old fox" Burleigh himself thought it safest to take part with Essex. When Elizabeth, having lost this great treasure in imagination, demanded that the £120,000 paid by the people of Cadiz for their ransom should be made over to her as her right, Burleigh decided that it belonged to Essex as the captor of the city. We may regard so gross a political blunder as this a clear proof that the "old fox's" cunning was failing him: for, as it was certain to do, it roused all the queen's choler, who poured on her ancient minister the flaming epithets of "miscreant and coward—more afraid of Essex than herself." The confounded Burleigh retired from her presence in great confusion and distress, and wrote a pitiful letter to Essex, saying that, having had the misfortune to incur his displeasure as well as that of Her Majesty, he was worse off than those who sought to avoid Scylla and fell into Charybdis, for he had fallen into both. He talked of "obtaining leave to live as an anchorite, as fitted for his age, his infirmities, and his declining influence at Court." But his decline was rather before his own son than Essex, for the queen put little faith in Essex's political caution and judgment; for these she looked to Sir Robert Cecil, who had all his father's cool, selfish caution, with the vigour of youth which had departed from his father.
Elizabeth soon gave a proof that she did not place much confidence in the diplomatic talents of Essex. The wardenship of the Cinque Ports became vacant, and though Essex strove hard for it, she gave it to his competitor, Lord Cobham; whereupon Essex, in his usual way, huffed, left the Court in a pet, and had to be coaxed back again by the post of Master of the Ordnance. That, however, did not satisfy him. He still insisted on the place of Secretary of State, which Sir Robert Cecil held in name of his father: and when it was refused him, insisted that it should be given to Sir Thomas Bodley, the founder of the Bodleian Library, at Oxford. But Elizabeth was not to be turned from conferring it on Cecil. Essex, with all his pretences to piety and reformation, could not help falling into his old gallantries. There was a Mrs. Bridges, the most beautiful of the queen's maids of honour, with whom he was soon convicted of carrying on an intrigue, in which they were encouraged by a Mrs. Russell. On its coming to Elizabeth's ears, she sent for
