lost him the favour of the people. "It doth make my heart bleed," he declared, "to hear such an imputation should be laid upon me; for it is said that I was a prosecutor of the death of the earl of Essex, and that I stood in the window over against him, when he suffered in the Tower, and puffed out tobacco in disdain of him. I take God to witness that I had no hand in his blood, and was none of those who procured his death. I shed tears for him when he died, and, as I hope to look God in the face hereafter, my lord of Essex did not see my face when he suffered, for I was afar off in the armoury, where I saw him, but he saw not me. I was heartily sorry for him, though I confess I was of a contrary faction, and helped to pluck him down. But in respect of his worth I loved him, and I knew that it would be worse for me when he was gone, for I got the hate of those that wished me well before; and those that set me against him, afterwards set themselves against me, and were my greatest enemies. My soul hath many times since been grieved, that I was not nearer to him when he died, because I understood afterwards that he asked for me at his death, to have been reconciled to me."
The sheriff, as the morning was cold, offered, before he said his prayers, to take him down to a fire to warm himself; but this courtesy he declined, saying, that within a quarter of an hour his ague would come upon him, and then his enemies would say that he quaked for fear. He made a most beautiful prayer, and then rising and clasping his hands, said, "Now I am going to God." He took the axe, passed it on his hand, felt the edge of it, and said with a smile, "This is a sharp medicine, but it will cure all diseases." He took a friendly leave of all the nobles and gentlemen present, and entreated the earl of Arundel to pray the king that no abusive writings might be published to defame him after death. Then laying his head on the block, he waited for the stroke. But the executioner delaying, he said to him, "What dost thou fear? Strike, man!" At two strokes his head was severed, and thus the mean, pedantic James, destroyed one of the most remarkable men of his age and nation.
Sir Walter Raleigh was a genius of that universal character, which seems capable of almost any achievement to which it aspires. He was equally distinguished as a scholar, an eloquent orator, a beautiful lyrical poet, an historian of wonderful scope and industry, a warrior, a traveller, a statesman and a courtier. He had charmed the heart of the great queen Bess, and long shone in the midst of her brilliant court as one of its gayest, most graceful, and gallant cavaliers. He had shared in the glory of dispersing the Armada, had explored the secrets of chemical art, had been the friend of Sidney and Spenser, and the patron of other men of merit. But with all his brilliant qualities, he had great and undoubted defects. He was capable, in the rivalries of ambition, of petty jealousy and vindictive feeling. That he compared himself to Mordecai as he marched out of the Tower on his liberation, preparatory to his last adventure, and Carr, the fallen earl of Somerset, whom he left a captive in it to Haman, was, perhaps, pardonable, for Carr had robbed him and his children of their patrimonial estate. But his conduct to Essex was a lasting stain, and he was made to feel it so by the true estimate of the people. In his last hour he expressed his profound regret for his conduct, and solemnly protested that he had no hand in his death. Yet there remains a letter addressed by him to Sir Robert Cecil, which proves positively that he contributed a in his power to his fall, and that he confessed "he helped to pluck him down."
Whilst, however, we cannot avoid perceiving the blots on the character of Sir Walter, we should be unjust to him not to remember the extreme looseness of moral principle of the age, and especially of the courts in which he lived. The hollow and murderous policy of Elizabeth, the mean, shuffling nature of James, were not things likely to act favourably on those who immediately surrounded them. The narrow spirit, the cold, dissolute, and grasping diplomatists and courtiers which abounded under such monarchs, were prolific of corruption even to superior natures; and we may assert that Raleigh, under more elevated and pure influences, would have risen to a much nobler tone of mind. Had James, instead of cooping him up in prison, and chilling him by its ominous shade, given a fair and honourable field to such a man, we should have undoubtedly to narrate splendid deeds and a fairer fame, as the natural fruit of them. Judged by the pure and lofty standard of morality of the gospel. Sir Walter Raleigh was marked by serious faults; judged by the morality of his age, we must pass upon him a milder judgment.
It is to the honour of queen Anne that she always pleaded for justice and liberal treatment to Sir Walter. As she was the friend of Jonson and Bacon, so she, as well as her son Henry, always admired the chivalric character and brilliant talents of Raleigh. One of her last efforts was to save his life. Though she was herself fast sinking, she was not insensible to the earnest appeal—
"Save him, who would have died for your defence!
Save him, whose thoughts no treason ever stained!"
She not only implored James to pardon him, but even condescended to write with her failing, feeble hand, to Buckingham, entreating him to use his far more effectual influence with James.
"TO THE MARQUIS OF BUCKINGHAM.
"My kind Dog,—If I have any power or credit with you, I pray you let me have a trial of it at this time, in dealing sincerely and earnestly with the king, that Sir Walter Raleigh's life may not be called in question. If you do it so that the success answer my expectation, assure yourself that I will take it extraordinarily kindly at your hands, and rest one that wisheth you well, and desires you to continue still, as you have been, a true servant to your master.
A fac-simile of this letter, which is still preserved in the Advocate's Library, Edinburgh, has been published by the Maitland Club, and does the highest honour to queen Anne of Denmark; who, whatever may have been the foibles of her character, displayed many fine qualities, which would have refined into still nobler strength, had she been yoked to a fitting husband. She only lived about four months after this; she had been rapidly declining, and died at Hampton Court, March 2nd, 1619.
The death of the queen was speedily followed by other and graver family troubles. James had contrived, with much
