irit of England in the great age of Elizabeth, the
foremost man of his time, the figure which takes the same place in the
field of action which Shakespeare takes in that of imagination and Bacon
in that of thought. For this something more was needed, the long torture
of imprisonment, the final crown of judicial martyrdom. The slow tragedy
closing on Tower Hill is the necessary complement to his greatness.

All this it is easy to see, but it is more difficult to understand what
circumstances brought about a condition of things in which such a
tragedy became possible. We must realise that Raleigh was a man of
severe speech and reserved manner, not easily moved to be gracious,
constantly reproving the sluggish by his rapidity, and galling the dull
by his wit. All through his career we find him hard to get on with,
proud to his inferiors, still more crabbed to those above him. If policy
required that he should use the arts of a diplomatist, he overplayed his
part, and stung his rivals to the quick by an obsequiousness in speech
to which his eyes and shoulders gave the lie. With all his wealth and
influence, he missed the crowning points of his ambition; he never sat
in the House of Peers, he never pushed his way to the council board, he
never held quite the highest rank in any naval expedition, he never
ruled with only the Queen above him even in Ireland. He who of all men
hated most and deserved least to be an underling, was forced to play the
subordinate all through the most brilliant part of his variegated life
of adventure. It was only for a moment, at Cadiz or Fayal, that by a
doubtful breach of prerogative he struggled to the surface, to sink
again directly the achievement was accomplished. This soured and would
probably have paralysed him, but for the noble stimulant of misfortune;
and to the temper which this continued disappointment produced, we must
look for the cause of his unpopularity.

It is difficult, as we have said, to understand how it was that he had
the opportunity to become unpopular. From one of his latest letters in
Elizabeth's reign we gather that the tavern-keepers throughout the
country considered Raleigh at fault for a tax which was really insisted
on by the Queen's rapacity. He prays Cecil to induce Elizabeth to remit
it, for, he says, 'I cannot live, nor show my face out of my doors,
without it, nor dare ride through the towns where these taverners
dwell.' This is the only passage which I can fi