Rawleigh exercised in perfection incompatible talents, and his character
connects the opposite extremes of our nature! His "Book of Life," with
its incidents of prosperity and adversity, of glory and humiliation, was
as chequered as the novelist would desire for a tale of fiction. Yet in
this mighty genius there lies an unsuspected disposition, which requires
to be demonstrated, before it is possible to conceive its reality. From
his earliest days, probably by his early reading of the romantic
incidents of the first Spanish adventurers in the New World, he himself
betrayed the genius of an _adventurer_, which prevailed in his character
to the latest; and it often involved him 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 as 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 Queene" 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 sealed his unfinished volume with immortality. For
magnificence of eloquence, and massiveness of thought, we must still
dwell on his pages.[67] 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 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 Shakspeare 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, 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.[68] This extravagant scene, with all its cunning, has
been most elaborately penned by the ingenious letter-writer, with a hint
to the person whom he addresses, to suffer it to meet the eye of their
royal mistress, 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
alludes to in his letters, of "the guilty blow he gave himself in the
Tower;" a passage which had long excited my attention, 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 divers 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 carelessness 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."[69] This feeble attempt at suicide, this "cut rather than stab,"
I must place among those scenes in the life of Rawleigh so
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.[70] 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 humiliated, 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.
The Cervantic Gondomar, whose "quips and quiddities" had concealed the
cares of state, one day rushed into the 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.[71]
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 proclamation. 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 Stucley), 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 he 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 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, everything 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 entering 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. On 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.
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 preparation 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 about 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,[72] and observed
in merriment to his new confidant, "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 licensed 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 favourably 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 traffick which I have broke with
Spain." And Manoury adds, from whose narrative we have all these
particulars, that Sir Walter broke out into this rant: "If he could but
save himself 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 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 authorise 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 London, 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[73] 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 overcome 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 Stucley 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 seaman, 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 infamous 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
historian 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 treason; that he had a
personal hatred towards Rawleigh, for having abridged his father of his
share of some prize-money; 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 deluditur arte. Neque enim lex justior ulla est
quam necis artifices 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.[74]
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
malicious was Sir Walter to utter these speeches at his death." Sir
Thomas 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 Stucley'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 annihilating 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 exchequer five hundred pounds, as the reward of his _espionnage_ 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 on
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 Plymouth for the same
crime, and accused his worthy friend. But such was the interest of
Stucley 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.[75] A more solemn and tragical catastrophe was
reserved for the perfidious Stucley. He was deprived of his place of
vice-admiral, and left destitute in the world. Abandoned by all human
beings, and most probably by the son whom he had tutored in the arts of
villany, he appears to have wandered about, an infamous and distracted
beggar. It is possible that even so seared a conscience may have
retained some remaining touch of sensibility.
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 the First,
that in August, 1620, "Lewis Stucley, who betrayed 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 the First,
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.