in the practice of mean artifices and petty deceptions; which appear like folly in the wisdom of a sage; like ineptitude in the profound views of a politician; like cowardice in the magnanimity of a hero; and degrade by their littleness the grandeur of a character which was closed by a splendid death, worthy the life of the wisest and the greatest of mankind! The sunshine of his days was in the reign of Elizabeth. From a boy, always dreaming of romantic conquests, for he was born in an age of heroism; and formed by nature for the chivalric gallantry of the court of a maiden queen, from the moment he with such infinite art cast his rich mantle over the miry spot, his life was a progress of glory. All about Rawleigh was splendid as the dress he wore: his female sovereign, whose eyes loved to dwell on men who might have been fit subjects for the Faerie Queen' of Spenser, penurious of reward, only recompensed her favourites by suffering them to make their own fortunes on sea and land; and Elizabeth listened to the glowing projects of her hero, indulging that spirit which could have conquered the world, to have laid the toy at the feet of the sovereign! This man, this extraordinary being, who was prodigal of his life and fortune on the Spanish main, in the idleness of peace could equally direct his invention to supply the domestic wants of every-day life, in his project of an office for address.' Nothing was too high for his ambition, nor too humble for his genius. Pre-eminent as a military and a naval commander, as a statesman and a student, Rawleigh was as intent on forming the character of Prince Henry, as that prince was studious of moulding his own aspiring qualities by the genius of the friend whom he contemplated. Yet the active life of Rawleigh is not more remarkable than his contemplative one. He may well rank among the founders of our literature: for composing on a subject exciting little interest, his fine genius has scaled his unfinished volume with immortality. For magnificence of eloquence, and massiveness of thought, we must still dwell on his pages.* Such was the man, who was the adored patron of Spenser; whom Ben Jonson, proud of calling other favourites his sons,' honoured by the title of his father; and who left political instructions which Milton deigned to edit. But how has it happened, that of so elevated a character, Gibbon has pronounced that it was ambiguous,' while it is described by Hume as a great but ill-regulated mind?'" There was a peculiarity in the character of this eminent man he practised the cunning of an adventurer ; a cunning, most humiliating in the narrative! The great difficulty to overcome in this discovery is, how to account for a sage and a hero acting folly and cowardice, and attempting to obtain by circuitous deception, what it may be supposed so magnanimous a spirit would not only deign to possess himself of by direct and open methods." Since the present article was written, a letter, hitherto unpublished, appears in the recent edition of Shakespeare, which curiously and minutely records one of those artifices of the kind which I am about to narrate at length. When under Elizabeth, Rawleigh was once in confinement, and it appears, that seeing the queen passing by, he was suddenly seized with a strange resolution of combating with the governor and his people; declaring that the mere sight of the queen had made him desperate, as a confined lover would feel at the sight of his mistress. The letter gives a minute narrative of Sir Walter's astonishing conduct, and carefully repeats the warm romantic style in which he talked of his royal mistress, and his formal resolution to die rather than exist out of her presence. This extravagant scene, with all its colouring, has been most elaborately penned by the ingenius letter-writer with a hint to the person whom he addresses, to suffer it to meet the eye of their royal mistresess, who could not fail of admiring our new Orlando Furioso;' and soon after released this tender prisoner! To me it is evident that the whole scene was got up and concerted for the occasion, and was the invention of Rawleigh himself; the romantic incident he well knew was perfectly adapted to the queen's taste. Another similar incident, in which I have been anticipated in the disclosure of the fact, though not of its nature, was what Sir Toby Matthews obscurely I shall give in the article Literary Unions,' a curious ac count how Rawleigh's History of the World' was composed, which has hitherto escaped discovery alludes to his letters, of the guilty blow he gave himself in the Tower;' a passage which had long excited my altention, till I discovered the curious incident in some manuscript letters of Lord Cecil. Rawleigh was then confined in the Tower for the Cobham conspiracy; a plot so absurd and obscure, that one historian has called it a 'state-riddle,' but for which, so many years after, Rawleigh so cruelly lost his life. Lord Cecil gives an account of the examination of the prisoners involved in this conspiracy. 'One afternoon, whilst diverse of us were in the Tower examining some of these prisoners, Sir Walter attempted to murder himself; whereof when we were advertised, we came to him and found him in some agony to be unable to endure his misfortunes, and protesting innocency, with cariessness of life; and in that humour he had wounded himself under the right pap, but no way mortally, being in truth rather a cut than a stab, and now very well cured both in body and mind.'* This feeble attempt at suicide, this cut rather than stab,' I must place among those scenes in the life of Rawleigh, so mean and incomprehensible with the genius of the man. If it were nothing but one of those 'Fears of the Brave!? we must now open another of the 'Follies of the Wise! Rawleigh returned from the wild and desperate voyage of Guiana, with misery in every shape about him.* His son had perished; his devoted Keymis would not survive his reproach; and Rawleigh, without fortune and without hope, in sickness and in sorrow, brooded over the sad thought, that in the hatred of the Spaniard, and in the political pusillanimity of James, he was arriving only to meet inevitable death. With this presentiment, he had even wished to give up his ship to the crew, had they consented to land him in France; but he was probably irresolute in this decision at sea, as he was afterwards at land, where he wished to escape, and refused to fly: the clearest intellect was darkened, and magnanimity itself became humil iated, floating between the sense of honour and of life. Rawleigh landed in his native county of Devon: his arrival was the common topic of conversation, and he was the object of censure or of commiseration: but his person was not molested, till the fears of James became more urgent than his pity. had concealed the cares of state, one day rushed into the The Cervantic Gondomar, whose 'quips and quidites' presence of James, breathlessly calling out for audience! and compressing his ear-piercing' message into the laconic abruptness of piratas! piratas! piratas! There was agony as well as politics in this cry of Gondomar, whose brother, the Spanish governor, had been massacred in this predatory expedition. The timid monarch, terrified at this tragical appearance of his facetious friend, saw at once the demands of the whole Spanish cabinet, and vented his palliative in a gentle proclamation. Rawleigh having settled his affairs in the West, set off for London to appear before the king, in consequence of the prociamation. A few miles from Plymouth, he was met by Sir Lewis Stucley, vice-admiral of Devon, a kinsman and a friend, who, in communication with government, had accepted a sort of surveillance over Sir Walter. It is said, (and will be credited, when we hear the story of Stucles) that he had set his heart on the ship, as a probable good purchase; and on the person, against whom, to colour his natural treachery, he professed an old hatred. He first seized on Rawleigh more like the kinsman than the vice admiral, and proposed travelling together to London, and baiting at the houses of the friends of Rawleigh. The warrant which Stucley in the meanwhile had desired was instantly despatched, and the bearer was one Manoury, a French empiric, who was evidently sent to act the part be did, a part played at all times, and the last title in French politics, that so often had recourse to this instrument of state, is a Mouton! Rawleigh still, however was not placed under any harsh *These letters were written by Lord Cecil to Sir Thomas Parry, our ambassador in France, and were transcribed from the copy-book of Sir Thomas Parry's correspondence, which is preserved in the Pepysian library at Cambridge. My friend, Mr Hamper, of Deritend House, Birmingham, among other curious collections which he possesses, informa me that he has a manuscript of depositions taken in Spain relative to the losses of some merchants who had been plundered by Sir Walter in this voyage.' restraint: his confidential associate, Captain King, accompanied him; and it is probable, that if Rawleigh had effectuated his escape, he would have conferred a great favour on the government. They could not save him at London. It is certain that he might have escaped; for Captain King had hired a vessel, and Rawleigh had stolen out by night, and might have reached it, but irresolutely returned home; another night, the same vessel was ready, but Rawleigh never came! The loss of his honour appeared the greater calamity. As he advanced in this eventful journey, every thing assumed a more formidable aspect. His friends communicated fearful advices; a pursuivant, or king's messenger, gave a more menacing appearance; and suggestions arose in his own mind, that he was reserved to become a victim of state. When letters of commission from the Privy council were brought to Sir Lewis Stucley, Rawleigh was observed to change countenance, exclaiming with an oath, Is it possible my fortune should return upon me thus again?" He lamented before Captain King, that he had neglected the opportunity of escape; and which, every day he advanced inland, removed him the more from any chance, Rawleigh at first suspected that Manoury was one of those instruments of state, who are sometimes employed when open measures are not to be pursued, or when the cabinet have not yet determined on the fate of a person implicated in a state crime; in a word, Rawleigh thought that Manoury was a spy over him, and probably over Stucley too. The first impression in these matters is usually the right one; but when Rawleigh found himself caught in the toils, he imagined that such corrupt agents were to be corrupted. The French empiric was sounded, and found very compliant; Rawleigh was desirous by his aid to counterfeit sickness, and for this purpose invented a series of the most humiliating stratagems. He imagined that a constant appearance of sickness might produce delay, and procrastination, in the chapter of accidents, might end in pardon. He procured vomits from the Frenchman, and whenever he chose, produced every appearance of sickness; with dimness of sight, dizziness in his head, he reeled about, and once struck himself with such violence against a pillar in the gallery, that there was no doubt of his malady. Rawleigh's servant one morning entered Stucley's chamber, declared that his master was out of his senses, for that he had just left him in his shirt upon all fours, gnawing the rushes upon the floor. Stucley's entrance, Rawleigh was raving, and reeling in strong convulsions. Stucley ordered him to be chafed and fomented, and Rawleigh afterwards laughed at this scene with Manoury, observing that he had made Stucley a perfect physician. On But Rawleigh found it required some more visible and alarming disease than such ridiculous scenes had exhibited. The vomits worked so slowly, that Manoury was fearful to repeat the doses. Rawleigh inquired, whether the empiric knew of any preparations which could make him look ghastly, without injuring his health. The Frenchman offered a harmless ointment to act on the surface of the skin, which would give him the appearance of a leper. That will do!' said Rawleigh, for the lords will be afraid to approach me, and besides it will move their pity.' Applying the ointment to his brows, his arms, and his breast, the blisters rose, the skin inflamed, and was covered with purple spots. Stucley concluded that Rawleigh had the plague. Physicians were now to be called in; Rawleigh took the black silk ribbon from his poniard, and Manoury tightened it strongly abont his arm, to disorder his pulse; but his pulse beat too strong and regular. He appeared to take no food, while Manoury secretly provided him. To perplex the learned doctors still more, Rawleigh had the urinal coloured by a drug of a strong scent. The physicians pronounced the disease mortal, and that the patient could not be removed into the air without immediate danger. Awhile after, being in his bed-chamber undressed, and no one present but Manoury, Sir Walter held a looking-glass in his hand, to admire his spotted face, and observed in merriment to his new con* A friend informs me, that he saw recently at a print-dealer's a painted portrait of Sir Walter Rawleigh, with the face thus spotted. It is extraordinary that any artist should have chosen such a subject for his pencil; but should this be a portrait of the times, it shows that this strange stratagem had ex. cited public attention fidant, how they should one day laugh for having thus cozened the king, council physicians, Spaniards and all. The excuse Rawleigh offered for this course of poor stratagems, so unworthy of his genius, was to obtain time and seclusion for writing his apology, or vindication of his voyage, which has come down to us in his 'Remains.' The prophet David did make himself a fool, and suffered spittle to fall upon his beard, to escape from the hands of his enemies,' said Rawleigh in his last speech. Brutus, too, was another example. But his discernment often prevailed over this mockery of his spirit. The king li censed him to reside at his own house on his arrival in London; on which Manoury observed, that the king showed by this indulgence, that his majesty was favoura bly inclined towards him; but Rawleigh replied, "They used all these kinds of flatteries to the Duke of Biron, to draw him fairly into prison, and then they cut off his head. I know they have concluded among them, that it is expedient that a man should die, to re-assure the traffic which I have broke with Spain.' And Manoury adds, from whose narrative we have all these particulars, that Sir Walter broke out in this rant: If he could but save hiniself for this time, he would plot such plots, as should make the king think himself happy to send for him again, and restore him to his estate, and would force the king of Spain to write into England in his favour.' Rawleigh at length proposed a flight to France with Manoury, who declares that it was then he revealed to Stucley what he had hitherto concealed, that Stucley might double his vigilance. Rawleigh now perceived that he had two rogues to bribe instead of one, and that they were playing into one another's hands. Proposals are now made to Stucley through Manoury, who is as compliant as his brother-knave. Rawleigh presented Stucley with a jewel made in the fashion of hail powdered with diamonds, with a ruby in the midst.' But Stucley observing to his kinsman and friend, that he must lose his office of Vice-admiral, which had cost him six hundred pounds, in case he suffered Rawleigh to escape; Rawleigh solemnly assured him that he should be no loser, and that his lady should give him one thousand pounds when they got into France or Holland. About this time the French quack took his leave; the part he had to act was performed; the juggle was complete: and two wretches had triumphed over the sagacity and magnanimity of a sage and a hero, whom misfortune had levelled to folly; and who, in violating the dignity of his own character, had only equalled himself with vulgar knaves; men who exulted that the circumventer was circumvented; or, as they expressed it, the great cozener was cozened." But our story does not here conclude, for the treacheries of Stucley were more intricate. This perfect villain had obtained a warrant of indemnity, to authorize his compliance with any offer to assist Rawleigh in his escape; this wretch was the confidant and the executioner of Rawleigh; he carried about him a license to betray him, and was making his profit of the victim before he delivered him to the sacrifice, Rawleigh was still plotting his escape: at Salisbury he had despatched his confidential friend Captain King to Londen, to secure a boat at Tilbury; he had also a secret interview with the French agent. Rawleigh's servant mentioned to Captain King, that his boatswain had a ketch of his own, and was ready at his service for thirty pieces of silver;' the boatswain and Rawleigh's servant acted Judas, and betrayed the plot to Mr William Herbert, cousin to Stucley, and thus the treachery was kept among themselves as a family concern. The night for flight was now fixed, but he could not part without his friend Stucley, who had promised never to quit him; and who, indeed, informed by his cousin Herbert, had suddenly surprised Rawleigh putting on a false beard. The party met at the appointed place; Sir Lewis Stucley with his son, and Rawleigh disguised. Stucley in saluting King, asked whether he had not shown himself an honest man? King hoped he would continue so. They had not rowed twenty strokes, before the watermen observed, that Mr. Herbert had lately taken boat, and made towards the bridge, but had returned down the river after them Rawleigh instantly expressed his apprehensions, and wished to return home; he consulted King-the watermen took fright-Stucley acted his part well; damning his ill-fortune to have a friend whom he would save, so full of doubts and fears, and threatening to pistol the watermen if they did not proceed. Even King was over come by the earnest conduct of Stucley, and a new spirit was infused into the rowers. As they drew near Greenwich, a wherry crossed them. Rawleigh declared it came to discover them. King tried to allay his fears, and assured him that if once they reached Gravesend, he would hazard his life to get to Tilbury. But in these delays and discussions, the tide was failing; the watermen declared they could not reach Gravesend before morning; Rawleigh would have landed at Purfleet, and the boatswain encouraged him; for there it was thought he could procure horses for Tilbury. Sir Lewis Stucley too was zealous; and declared he was content to carry the cloak-bag on his own shoulders, for half a mile, but King declared that it was useless, they could not at that hour get horses, to go by land. They rowed a mile beyond Woolwich, approaching two or three ketches, when the boatswain doubted whether any of these were the one he had provided to furnish them. 'We are betrayed!' cried Rawleigh, and ordered the watermen to row back: he strictly examined the boatswain, alas! his ingenuity was baffled by a shuffling villain, whose real answer appeared when a wherry hailed the boat; Rawleigh observed that it contained Herbert's crew. He saw that all was now discovered. He took Stucley aside; his ingenious mind still suggesting projects for himself to return home in safety, or how Stuc ley might plead that he had only pretended to go with Rawleigh, to seize on his private papers. They whispered together, and Rawleigh took some things from his pocket, and handed them to Stucley; probably more 'rubies powdered with diamonds.'-Some effect was instantaneously produced; for the tender heart of his friend Stucley relented, and he not only repeatedly embraced him with extraordinary warmth of affection, but was voluble in effusions of friendship and fidelity. Stucley persuaded Rawleigh to land at Gravesend, the strange wherry which had dogged them landing at the same time; these were people belonging to Mr Herbert and Sir William St John, who, it seems, had formerly shared in the spoils of this unhappy hero. On Greenwich bridge, Stucley advised Captain King that it would be advantageous to Sir Walter, that King should confess that he had joined with Stucley to betray his master; and Rawleigh lent himself to the suggestion of Stucley, of whose treachery he might still be uncertain; but King, a rough and honest seamen, declared that he would not share in the odium. At the moment he refused, Stucley arrested the captain in the king's name, committing him to the charge of Herbert's men. They then proceeded to a tavern, but Rawleigh, who now viewed the monster in his true shape, observed, 'Sir Lewis, these actions will not turn out to your credit;' and on the following day, when they passed through the Tower-gate, Rawleigh turning to King, observed, Stucley and my servant Cotterell have betrayed me. You need be in no fear of danger, but as for me, it is I who am the mark that is shot at,' Thus concludes the narrative of Captain King. The fate of Rawleigh soon verified the prediction. ་ This long narrative of treachery will not, however, be complete, unless we wind it up with the fate of the infainous Stucley. Fiction gives perfection to its narratives, by the privilege it enjoys of disposing of its criminals in the most exemplary manner; but the labours of the histo rian are not always refreshed by this moral pleasure. Retribution is not always discovered in the present stage of human existence, yet history is perhaps equally delightful as fiction, whenever its perfect catastrophes resemble those of romantic invention. The present is a splendid example. I have discovered the secret history of Sir Lewis Stucley, in several manuscript letters of the times. Rawleigh, in his admirable address from the scaffold, where he seemed to be rather one of the spectators than the sufferer, declared he forgave Sir Lewis, for he had forgiven all men; but he was bound in charity to caution all men against him, and such as he is! Rawleigh's last and solemn notice of the treachery of his 'kinsman and friend' was irrevocably fatal to this wretch. The hearts of the people were open to the deepest impressions of sympathy, melting into tears at the pathetic address of the magnanimous spirit who had touched them in one moment Sir Lewis Stucley became an object of execration throughout the nation; he soon obtained a new title, that of 'Sir Judas,' and was shunned by every man. To remove the Cain-like mark, which God and men had fixed on him, he | published an apology for his conduct; a performance, which, at least, for its ability, might raise him in our consideration; but I have since discovered, in one of the manuscript letter-writers, that it was written by Dr Sharpe, who had been a chaplain to Henry Prince of Wales. The writer pleads in Stucley's justification, that he was a state agent; that it was lawful to lie for the discovery of trea son; that he had a personal hatred towards Rawleigh, for having abridged his father of his share of some prizemoney; and then enters more into Rawleigh's character, who being desperate of any fortune here, agreeable to the height of his mind, would have made up his fortune elsewhere, upon any terms against his sovereign and his country. Is it not marvel,' continues the personifier of Stucley, that he was angry with me at his death for bringing him back? Besides, being a man of so great a wit, it was no small grief, that a man of mean wit as I, should be thought to go beyond him. No? Sic ars deluditer arte. Neque enim lex justior ulla est quam necis arifices arte perire sua. (This apt latinity betrays Dr Sharpe.) But why did you not execute your commission bravely (openly?)-Why? My commission was to the contrary, to discover his pretensions, and to seize his secret papers,' &c.* ་ But the doctor, though no unskilful writer, here wrote in vain; for what ingenuity can veil the turpitude of long and practised treachery? To keep up appearances, Sir Judas resorted more than usually to court; where, however, he was perpetually enduring rebuffs, or avoided, as one infected with the plague of treachery. He offered the king, in his own justification, to take the sacrament, that whatever he had laid to Rawleigh's charge was true, and would produce two unexceptionable witnesses to do the like. Why, then,' replied his majesty, the more mali cious was Sir Walter to utter these speeches at his death.' Sir Thoms Badger, who stood by, observed, Let the king take off Stucley's head, as Stucley has done Sir Walter's, and let him at his death take the sacrament and his oath upon it, and I'll believe him; but till Stucley loses his head, I shall credit Sir Walter Rawleigh's bare affirmative before a thousand of Stuckley's oaths. When Stucley, on pretence of giving an account of his office, placed himself in the audience chamber of the lord admiral, and his lordship passed him without any notice, Sir Judas attempted to address the earl; but with a bitter look his lordship exclaimed, Base fellow! darest thou, who art the scorn and contempt of men, offer thyself in my presence? Were it not in my own house, I would cudgel thee with my staff for presuming on this sauciness. This annihi lating affront Stucley hastened to convey to the king; his majesty answered him, 'What wouldst thou have me do? Wouldst thou have me hang him? Of my soul, if I should hang all that speak ill of thee, all the trees of the country would not suffice, so great is the number! One of the frequent crimes of that age, ere the forgery of bank-notes existed, was the clipping of gold; and this was one of the private amusements suitable to the character of our Sir Judas. Treachery and forgery are the same crime in a different form. Stucley received out of the ex chequer five hundred pounds, as the reward of his expoinage and perfidy. It was the price of blood, and was hardly in his hands ere it was turned into the fraudulent coin of the Cheater !! He was seized in the palace of Whitehall, for diminishing the gold coin. The manner of the discovery,' says the manuscript-writer, was strange if my occasions would suffer me to relate the particulars." On his examination he attempted to shift the crime to his own son, who had fled, and on his man, who being taken, in the words of the letter-writer, was willing to set the saddle upon the right horse, and accused his master.' Manoury too, the French empiric, was arrested at Ply mouth for the same crime, and accused his worthy friend. But such was the interest of Sticley with government, bought probably with his last shilling, and, as one says, with his last shirt, that he obtained his own, and his son's pardon, for a crime that ought to have finally concluded the history of this blessed family. A more solemn and Stucley's humble petition, touching the bringing up Sir W. Rawleigh, 4to, 1618; republished in Somer's Tracts, vol. iii, 751. The anecdotes respecting Sturley I have derived from manuscript leuers, and they were considered to be of so dan gerous a nature, that the writer recommends secrecy, and re. quests after reading that they may be burnt. With such injunctions I have generally found that the letters were this more carefully preserved. J --All are men, Condemned alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, The unfeeling for his own. And Camden has recorded, among his historical notes on James I, that in August, 1620, 'Lewis Stucley, who be trayed Sir Walter Rawleigh, died in a manner mad.' Such is the catastrophe of one of the most perfect domestic tales; an historical example not easily paralleled of moral retribution. The secret practices of the Sir Judas' of the court of James I, which I have discovered, throw light on an old tradition which still exists in the neighbourhood of Affeton, once the residence of this wretched man. The country people have long entertained a notion that a hidden treasure lies at the bottom of a well in his grounds, guarded by some supernatural power; a tradition no doubt originating in this man's history, and an obscure allusion to the gold which Stucley received for his bribe, or the other gold which he clipped, and might have there concealed. This is a striking instance of the many historical facts which, though entirely unknown or forgotten, may be often discovered to lie hid, or disguised, in popular traditions. AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE OF THE LAST HOURS OF SIR WALTER RAWLEIGH. The close of the life of Sir Walter Rawleigh was as extraordinary as many parts of his varied history: the promptitude and sprightliness of his genius, his carelessness of life, and the equanimity of that great spirit in quitting the world, can only be paralleled by a few other heroes and sages:-Rawleigh was both! But it is not simply his dignified yet active conduct on the scaffold, nor his admirable speech on that occasion, circumstances by which many great men are judged, when their energies are excited for a moment to act so great a part, before the eyes of the world assembled at their feet; it is not these only which claim our notice. We may pause with admiration on the real grandeur of Rawleigh's character; not from a single circumstance, however great, but from a tissue of continued little incidents, which occurred from the moment of his condemnation till he lay his head on the block, Rawleigh was a man of such mark, that he deeply engaged the attention of his contemporaries; and to this we owe the preservation of several interesting particulars of what he did and what he said, which have entered, into his life; but all has not been told in the published narratives. Contemporary writers in their letters have set down every fresh incident, and eagerly caught up his sense, his wit, and what is more delightful, those marks of the natural cheerfulness of his invariable presence of mind: nor could these have arisen from any affectation or parade, for we shall see that they served him even in his last tender farewell to his lady, and on many unpremeditated occasions. I have drawn together in a short compass all the facts which my researches have furnished, not omitting those which are known, concerning the feelings and conduct of Rawleigh at these solemn moments of his life; to have preserved only the new would have been to mutilate the statue, and to injure the whole by an imperfect view. Rawleigh one morning was taken out of his bed in a fit of fever, and unexpectedly hurried, not to his trial, but to a sentence of death. The story is well known.-Yet pleading with a voice grown weak by sickness and an ague he had at that instant on him,' he used every means to avert his fate: he did, therefore value the life he could so easily part with. His judges there at least, respected their state criminal, and they addressed him in a tone far different from that which he had fifteen years before listened to from Coke. Yelverton, the attorney-general, said, 'Sir Walter Rawleigh hath been as a star at which the world have gazed; but stars may fall, nay, they must fall, when they trouble the sphere where they abide.' And the lord chief-justice noticed Rawleigh's great work;- I know that you have been valiant and wise, and I doubt not but you retain both these virtues, for now you shall have occasion to use them. Your book is an admirable work; I would give you counsel, but I know you can apply unto yourself far better than I am able to give you.' But the judge ended with saying, 'execution is granted.' It was stifling Rawleigh with roses! the heroic sage felt as if listening to fame from the voice of death. He declared, that now being old, sickly, and in disgrace, and certain were he allowed to live, to go to it again, life was wearisome to him, and all he entreated was to have leave to speak freely at his farewell, to satisfy the world that he was ever loyal to the king, and a true lover of the commonwealth; for this he would seal with his blood.' Rawleigh, on his return to his prison, while some were deploring his fate, observed, that the world itself is but a larger prison, out of which some are daily selected for execution.' That last night of his existence was occupied by writing what the letter-writer calls'a remembrancer to be left with his lady,' to acquaint the world with his sentiments, should he be denied their delivery from the scaffold as he had been at the bar of the King's Bench. His lady visited him that night, and amidst her tears acquainted him, that she had obtained the favour of disposing of his body; to which he answered smiling, 'It is well Bess, that thou mayest dispose of that, dead, thou hadst not always the disposing of when it was alive. At midnight he entreated her to leave him. It must have been then, that, with unshaken fortitude, Rawleigh sat down to compose those verses on his death, which being short, the most appropriate may be repeated. 'Even such is Time, that takes on trust, Who in the dark and silent grave, He has added two other lines expressive of his trust in his resurrection. Their authenticity is confirmed by the writer of the present letter, as well as another writer, enclosing half a dozen verses, which Sir Walter made the night before his death, to take his farewell of poetry, wherein he had been a scribbler even from his youth.' The enclosure is not now with the letter. Chamberlain, the writer, was an intelligent man of the world, but not imbued with any deep tincture of literature. On the same night Rawleigh wrote this distich on the candle burning dimly: 'Cowards fear to die; but courage stout, Rather than live in snuff, will be put out.' At this solemn moment, before he lay down to rest, and at the instant of parting from his lady, with all his domestic affections still warm, to express his feelings in verse was with him a natural effusion, and one to which he had long been used. It is peculiar in the fate of Rawleigh, that having before suffered a long imprisonment with an expectation of a public death, his mind had been accustomed to its contemplation, and had often dwelt on the event which was now passing. The soul, in its sudden departure, and its future state, is often the subject of his few poems; that most original one of the Farewell, Go, soul, the body's guest, Upon a thankless errand, &c. is attributed to Rawleigh, though on uncertain evidence. But another, entitled the Pilgrimage,' has this beautiful passage: 'Give me my scallop-shell of quiet. My gown of glory, Hope's true gage, And thus I'll take my pilgrimageWhilst my soul, like a quiet Palmer, Travelleth towards the land of Heaven-' Rawleigh's cheerfulness was so remarkable, and his fearlessness of death so marked, that the Dean of Westminster, who attended him, at first wondering at the hero, reprehended the lightness of his manner; but Rawleigh gave God thanks that he had never feared death, for it was but an opinion and an imagination; and as for the manner of death, he would rather die so than of a burning fever; and that some might have made shows outwardly, but he felt the joys within. The Dean says, that he made no more of his death than if he had been to take a journey; 'Not,' said he, but that I am a great sinner, for I have been a soldier, a seaman, and a courtier.' The writer of a manuscript letter tells us, that the Dean declared he died not only religiously, but he found him to be a man as ready and as able to give, as to take instruction. On the morning of his death he smoked, as usual, his favourite tobacco, and when they brought him a cup of excellent sack, being asked how he liked it, Rawleigh answered, 'As the fellow, that, drinking of St Giles's bowl, as he went to Tyburn, said, "that was good drink if a man might tarry by it." The day before, in passing from Westminster-hall to the Gate-house, his eye had caught Sir Hugh Beeston in the throng, and calling on him, Rawleigh requested that he would see him die to-morrow. Sir Hugh, to secure himself a seat on the scaffold, had provided himself with a letter to the sheriff, which was not read at the time, and Sir Walter found his friend thrust by, lamenting that he could not get there. Farewell! exclaimed Rawleigh, I know not what shift you will make, but I am sure to have a place.' In going from the prison to the scaffold, among others who were pressing hard to see him, one old man, whose head was bald, came very forward, insomuch that Rawleigh noticed him, and asked, whether he would have ought of him?' The old man answered, 'Nothing but to see him, and to pray God for him. Rawleigh replied, 'I thank thee, good friend, and I am sorry I have no better thing to return thee for thy good will.' Observing his bald head, he continued, but take this night-cap. (which was a very rich wrought one that he wore) for thou hast more need of it now than I.' 6 His dress, as was usual with him, was elegant, if not rich. Oldys describes it, but mentions, that he had a wrought night-cap under his hat,' this we have otherwise disposed of; he wore a ruff-band, a black wrought velvet night-gown over a hair-coloured satin doublet, and a black wrought waistcoat; black cut taffety breeches, and ashcoloured silk stockings. He ascended the scaffold with the same cheerfulness as he had passed to it; and observing the lords seated at a distance, some at windows, he requested they would approach him, as he wished that they should all witness what he had to say. The request was complied with by several. His speech is well known; but some copies contain matters not in others. When he finished, he requested Lord Arundel that the king would not suffer any libels to defame him after death- And now I have a long journey to go, and must take my leave.' 'He embraced all the lords and other friends with such courtly compliments, as if he had met them at some feast,' says a letterwriter. Having taken off his gown, he called to the headsman to show him the axe, which not being instantly done, he repeated, 'I prithee let me see it. Dost thou think that I am afraid of it?" He passed the edge lightly over his finger, and smiling, observed to the sheriff,'This is a sharp medicine, but a sound cure for all diseases,' and kissing it, laid it down. Another writer has, This is that, that will cure all sorrows.' After this he went to three several corners of the scaffold, and kneeling down, desired all the people to pray for him, and recited a long prayer to himself. When he began to fit himself for the block, he first laid himself down to try how the block fitted him; after rising up, the executioner kneeled down to ask his forgiveness, which Rawleigh with an embrace gave, but entreated him not to strike till he gave a token by lifting up his hand, and then, fear not, but strike home! When he laid his head down to receive the stroke, the executioner desired him to lay his face towards the east. 'It was no great matter which way a man's head stood, so the heart lay right,' said Rawleigh; but these were not his last words. He was once more to speak in this world with the same intrepidity he had lived in it-for, having lain some minutes on the block in prayer. he gave the signal; but the executioner, either unmindful, or in fear, failed to strike, and Rawleigh, after once or twice putting forth his hands, was compelled to ask him,' Why dost thou not strike? Strike! man! In two blows he was beheaded; but from the first, his body never shrunk from the spot, by any discomposure of his posture, which, like his mind, was immoveable. In all the time he was upon the scaffold, and before, says one of the manuscript letter-writers, there appeared not the least alteration in him, either in his voice or countenance; but he seemed as free from all manner of appre hension as if he had been come thither rather to be a spectator than a sufferer; nay, the beholders seemed much more sensible than did he, so that he hath purchased here in the opinion of men such honour and reputation, as it is thought his greatest enemies are they that are most sorrowful for his death, which they see is like to turn so much to his advantage.' The people were deeply affected at the sight, and so much, that one said, that we had not such another head to cut off; and another wished the head and brains to be upon Secretary Naunton's shoulders.' The observer suffered for this; he was a wealthy citizen, and great newsmonger, and one who haunted Paul's Walk. Complaint was made, and the citizen summoned to the privy-council. He pleaded that he intended no disrespect to Mr Secretary; but only spoke in reference to the old proverb, that 'two heads were better than one! His excuse was allowed at the moment; but when afterwards called on for a contribution to St Paul's cathedral, and having subscribed a hundred pounds, the Secretary observed to him, that two were better than one, Mr Wiemark! either from fear, or charity, the witty citizen doubled his subscription. Thus died this glorious and gallant cavalier, of whom Osborne says, 'His death was managed by him with so high and religious a resolution, as if a Roman had acted a Christian, or rather a Christian a Roman.* After having read the preceding article, we are astonished at the greatness, and the variable nature of this extraordinary man, and this happy genius. With Gibbon, who once meditated to write his life, we may pause, and pronounce his character is ambiguous; but we shall not hesitate to decide, that Rawleigh knew better how to die than to live. His glorious hours,' says a contemporary, 'were his arraignment and execution;-but never will be forgotten the intermediate years of his lettered imprison ment! LITERARY UNIONS. SECRET HISTORY OF RAWLEIGH'S HISTORY OF THE WORLD, AND VASARI'S LIVES. An union of talents, differing in their qualities, might carry some important works to a more extended perfection. In a work of great enterprise, the aid of a friendly hand may be absolutely necessary to complete the labours of the projector, who may have neither the courage, the leisure, nor all acquisitions necessary for performing the favourite task which he has otherwise matured. Many great works, commenced by a master genius have remained unfinished, or have been deficient for want of this friendly succour. The public had been grateful to Johnson, had he united in his dictionary the labours of some learned etymologist. Speed's Chronicle owes most of its value, as it does its ornaments, to the hand of Sir Robert Cotton, and other curious researchers, who contributed entire portions. Goguet's esteemed work of the Origin of the Arts and Sciences' was greatly indebted to the fraterual zeal of a devoted friend. The still valued books of the Port-royal Society were all formed by this happy union. The secret history of many eminent works would bination of talents, differing in their nature. Cumberland's show the advantages which may be derived from this commasterly versions of the fragments of the Greek dramatic poets had never been given to the poetical world, had he not accidentally possessed the manuscript notes of his relative, the learned Bentley. This treasure supplied that research in the most obscure works, which the volatile studies of Cumberland could never have explored; a circumstance which he concealed from the world, proud of the Greek erudition which he thus cheaply possessed. Yet by this literary union, Bentley's vast erudition made those researches which Cumberland could not; and CumGreece, of which Bentley was incapable. berland gave the nation a copy of the domestic drama of There is a large work, which is still celebrated, of which philosophic Hume, but whose secret history remains vet the composition has excited the astonishment even of the to be disclosed. This extraordinary volume is The History of the World, by Rawleigh.' I shall transcribe Hume's observation that the reader may observe the lite rary phenomenon. They were struck with the extensive The chief particulars in this narrative are drawn from two manuscript letters of the day, in the Sloane collection, under their respective dates, Nov. 3, 1618, Larkin to Sir Tho. Pick ering; Oct. 31, 1618, Chamberlain's letters. |