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On the 26th they reached St. Antonio, the outermost of the Cape Verde Islands, but did not land there. For eight wretched days they wandered aimlessly about in this unfriendly archipelago, trying to make up their minds to land now on Brava, now on St. Jago. Some of the ships grated on the rocks, all lost anchors and cables; one pinnace, her crew being asleep and no one on the watch, drove under the bowsprit of the 'Destiny,' struck her and sank. When they did effect a landing on Brava, they were soaked by the tropical autumnal rains of early October. Men were dying fast in all the ships. In deep dejection Raleigh gave the order to steer away for Guiana. Meanwhile Bailey had arrived in England, had seen Gondomar, and had openly given out that he left Raleigh because the admiral had been guilty of piratical acts against Spain. It does not seem that Winwood or the King took any notice of these declarations until the end of the year.

The ocean voyage was marked by an extraordinary number of deaths, among others that of Mr. Fowler, the principal refiner, whose presence at the gold mine would have been of the greatest importance. On October 13, John Talbot, who had been for eleven years Raleigh's secretary in the Tower, passed away. The log preserved in the Second Voyage is of great interest, but we dare not allow its observations to detain us. On the last of October, Raleigh was struck down by fever himself, and for twenty days lay unable to eat anything more solid than a stewed prune. He was in bed, on November 11, when they sighted Cape Orange, now the most northerly point belonging to the Empire of Brazil. On the 14th they anchored at the mouth of the Cayenne river, and Raleigh was carried from his noisome cabin into his barge; the 'Destiny' got across the bar, which was lower then than it now is, on the 17th. At Cayenne, after a day or two, Raleigh's old servant Harry turned up; he had almost forgotten his English in twenty-two years. Raleigh began to pick up strength a little on pine-apples and plantains, and presently he began to venture even upon roast peccary. He proceeded to spend the next fortnight on the Cayenne river, refreshing his weary crews, and repairing his vessels. An interesting letter to his wife that he sent home from this place, which he called 'Caliana,' confirms the Second Voyage, and adds some details. He says to Lady Raleigh: 'To tell you I might be here King of the Indians were a vanity; but my name hath still lived among them. Here they feed me with fresh meat and all that the country yields; all offer to obey me. Commend me to poor Carew my son.' His eldest son, Walter, it will be remembered, was with him.

In December the fleet coasted along South America westward, till on the 15th they stood under Trinidad. Meanwhile Raleigh had sent forward, by way of Surinam and Essequibo, the expedition which was to search for the gold mine on the Orinoco. His own health prevented his attempting this journey, but he sent Captain Keymis as commander in his stead, and with him was George Raleigh, the Admiral's nephew; young Walter also accompanied the party. On New Year's Eve Raleigh landed at a village in Trinidad, close to Port of Spain, and there he waited, on the borders of the land of pitch, all through January 1618. On the last of that month he returned to Punto Gallo on the mainland, being very anxious for news from the Orinoco. The log of the Second Voyage closes on February 13, and it is supposed that it was on the evening of that day that Captain Keymis' disastrous letter, written on January 8, reached Raleigh and informed him of the death of his son Walter. 'To a broken mind, a sick body, and weak eyes, it is a torment to write letters,' and we know he felt, as he also said, that now 'all the respects of this world had taken end in him.' Keymis had acted in keeping with what he must have supposed to be Raleigh's private wish; he had attacked the new Spanish settlement of San Thomé. In the fight young Walter Raleigh had been struck down as he was shouting 'Come on, my men! This is the only mine you will ever find.' Keymis had to announce this fact to the father, and a few days afterwards, with only a remnant of his troop, he himself fled in panic to the sea, believing that a Spanish army was upon him. The whole adventure was a miserable and ignominious failure.

The meeting between Raleigh and Keymis could not fail to be an embarrassing one. Raleigh could not but feel that all his own mistakes and faults might have been condoned if Keymis had brought one basket of ore from the fabulous mine, and he could not refrain from reproaching him. He told him he 'should be forced to leave him to his arguments, with the which if he could satisfy his Majesty and the State, I should be glad of it, though for my part he must excuse me to justify it.' After this first interview Keymis left him in great dejection, and a day or two later appeared in the Admiral's cabin with a letter which he had written to the Earl of Arundel, excusing himself. He begged Raleigh to forgive him and to read this letter. What followed, Sir Walter must tell in his own grave words:

I told him he had undone me by his obstinacy, and that I would not favour or colour in any sort his former folly. He then asked me, whether that were my resolution? I answered, that it was. He then replied in these words, 'I know then, sir, what course to take,' and went out of my cabin into his own, in which he was no sooner entered than I heard a pistol go off. I sent up, not suspecting any such thing as the killing of himself, to know who shot a pistol. Keymis himself made answer, lying on his bed, that he had shot it off, because it had long been charged; with which I was satisfied. Some half-hour after this, his boy, going into the cabin, found him dead, having a long knife thrust under his left pap into his heart, and his pistol lying by him, with which it appeared he had shot himself; but the bullet lighting upon a rib, had but broken the rib, and went no further.

Such was the wretched manner in which Raleigh and his old faithful servant parted. In his despair, the Admiral's first notion was to plunge himself into the mazes of the Orinoco, and to find the gold mine, or die in the search for it. But his men were mutinous; they openly declared that in their belief no such mine existed, and that the Spaniards were bearing down on them by land and sea. They would not go; and Raleigh, strangely weakened and humbled, asked them if they wished him to lead them against the Mexican plate fleet. He told them that he had a commission from France, and that they would be pardoned in England if they came home laden with treasure.

What exactly happened no one knows. The mutiny grew worse and worse, and on March 21, when Raleigh wrote a long letter to prepare the mind of Winwood, he was lying off St. Christopher's on his homeward voyage; not knowing of course that his best English friend had already been dead five months. Next day, he made up his mind that he dared not return to England to face his enemies, and he wrote to tell his wife that he was off to Newfoundland, 'where I mean to make clean my ships, and revictual; for I have tobacco enough to pay for it.' But he was powerless, as he confesses, to govern his crew, and no one knows how the heartbroken old man spent the next two dreadful months. His ships slunk back piecemeal to English havens, and on May 23, Captain North, who had commanded the 'Chudleigh,' had audience of the King, and told him the whole miserable story. On May 26,¹² Raleigh made his appearance, with the 'Destiny,' in the harbour of Kinsale, and on June 21 he arrived in Plymouth, penniless and dejected, for the first time in his life utterly unnerved and irresolute. On June 16 he had written an apologetic letter to the King. By some curious slip Mr. Edwards dated this letter three months too late, and its significance has therefore been overlooked. It is important as showing that Raleigh was eager to conciliate James.

CHAPTER X.
THE END

Gondomar had not been idle during Raleigh's absence, but so long as Winwood was alive he had not been able to attack the absent Admiral with much success. As soon as Bailey brought him the news of the supposed attack on Lanzarote, he communicated with his Government, and urged that an embargo should be laid on the goods of the English merchant colony at Seville. This angry despatch, the result of a vain attempt to reach James, is dated October 22; and on October 27 the sudden death of Winwood removed Gondomar's principal obstacle to the ruin of Raleigh. At first, however, Bailey's story received no credence, and if, as Howel somewhat apocryphally relates, Gondomar had been forbidden to say two words about Raleigh in the King's presence, and therefore entered with uplifted hands shouting 'Pirates!' till James was weary, he did not seem to gain much ground. Moreover, while Bailey's story was being discussed, the little English merchant vessel which had been lying in Lanzarote during Raleigh's visit returned to London, and gave evidence which brought Bailey to gaol in the Gate House.

On January 11, 1618, before any news had been received from Guiana, a large gathering was held in the Council Chamber at Westminster, to try Bailey for false accusation. The Council contained many men favourable to Raleigh, but the Spanish ambassador brought influence to bear on the King; and late in February, Bailey was released with a reprimand, although he had accused Raleigh not of piracy only, but of high treason. The news of the ill-starred attack on San Thomé reached Madrid on May 3, and London on the 8th. This must have given exquisite pleasure to the baffled Gondomar, and he lost no time in pressing James for revenge. He gave the King the alternative of punishing Raleigh in England or sending him as a prisoner to Spain. The King wavered for a month. Meanwhile vessel after vessel brought more conclusive news of the piratical expedition in which Keymis had failed, and Gondomar became daily more importunate. It began to be thought that Raleigh had taken flight for Paris.

At, last, on June 11, James I. issued a proclamation inviting all who had a claim against Raleigh to present it to the Council. Lord Nottingham at the same time outlawed the 'Destiny' in whatever English port she might appear. It does not seem that the King was unduly hasty in condemning Raleigh. He had given Spain every solemn pledge that Raleigh should not injure Spain, and yet the Admiral's only act had been to fall on an unsuspecting Spanish settlement; notwithstanding this, James argued as long as he could that San Thomé lay outside the agreement. The arrival of the 'Destiny,' however, seems to have clinched Gondomar's arguments. Three days after Raleigh arrived in Plymouth, the King assured Spain that 'not all those who have given security for Raleigh can save him from the gallows.' For the particulars of the curious intrigues of these summer months the reader must be referred, once more, to Mr. Gardiner's dispassionate pages.

On June 21, Raleigh moored the 'Destiny' in Plymouth harbour, and sent her sails ashore. Lady Raleigh hastened down to meet him, and they stayed in Plymouth a fortnight. His wife and he, with Samuel King, one of his captains, then set out for London, but were met just outside Ashburton by Sir Lewis Stukely, a cousin of Raleigh's, now Vice-Admiral of Devonshire. This man announced that he had the King's orders to arrest Sir Walter Raleigh; but these were only verbal orders, and he took his prisoner back to Plymouth to await the Council warrant. Raleigh was lodged for nine or ten days in the house of Sir Christopher Harris, Stukely being mainly occupied in securing the 'Destiny' and her contents. Raleigh pretended to be ill, or was really indisposed with anxiety and weariness. While Stukely was thinking of other things, Raleigh commissioned Captain King to hire a barque to slip over to La Rochelle, and one night Raleigh and King made their escape towards this vessel in a little boat. But Raleigh probably reflected that without money or influence he would be no safer in France than in England, and before the boat reached the vessel, he turned back and went home. He ordered the barque to be in readiness the next night, but although no one watched him, he made no second effort to escape.

On July 23 the Privy Council ordered Stukely, 'all delays set apart,' to bring the body of Sir Walter Raleigh speedily to London. Two days later, Stukely and his prisoner started from Plymouth. A French quack, called Mannourie, in whose chemical pretensions Raleigh had shown some interest, was encouraged by Stukely to attend him, and to worm himself into his confidence. As Walter and Elizabeth Raleigh passed the beautiful Sherborne which had once been theirs, the former could not refrain from saying, 'All this was mine, and it was taken from me unjustly.' They travelled quickly, sleeping at Sherborne on the 26th, and next night at Salisbury. Raleigh lost all confidence as he found himself so hastily being taken up to London. As they went from Wilton into Salisbury, Raleigh asked Mannourie to give him a vomit; 'by its means I shall gain time to work my friends, and order my affairs; perhaps even to pacify his Majesty. Otherwise, as soon as ever I come to London, they will have me to the Tower, and cut off my head.'

That same evening, while being conducted to his rooms, Raleigh struck his head against a post. It was supposed to show that he was dizzy; and next morning he sent Lady Raleigh and her retinue on to London, saying that he himself was not well enough to move. At the same time, King went on to prepare a ship to be ready in the Thames in case of another emergency. When they had started, Raleigh was discovered in his bedroom, on all fours, in his shirt, gnawing the rushes on the floor. Stukely was completely taken in; the French quack had given Raleigh, not an emetic only, but some ointment which caused his skin to break out in dark purple pustules. Stukely rushed off to the Bishop of Ely, who happened to be in Salisbury, and acted on his advice to wait for Raleigh's recovery. Unless Stukely also was mountebanking, the spy Mannourie for the present kept Raleigh's counsel. Raleigh was treated as an invalid, and during the four days' retirement contrived to write his Apology for the Voyage to Guiana. On August 1, James I. and all his Court entered Salisbury, and on the morning of the same day Stukely hurried his prisoner away lest he should meet the King. Some pity, however, was shown to Raleigh's supposed dying state, and permission was granted him to go straight to his own London house. His hopes revived, and he very rashly bribed both Mannourie and Stukely to let him escape. So confident was he, that he refused the offers of a French envoy, who met him at Brentford with proposals of a secret passage over to France, and a welcome in Paris. He was broken altogether; he had no dignity, no judgment left.

Raleigh arrived at his house in Broad Street on August 7. On the 9th the French repeated their invitation. Again it was refused, for King had seen Raleigh and had told him that a vessel was lying at Tilbury ready to carry him over to France. Her captain, Hart, was an old boatswain of King's; before Raleigh received the information, this man had already reported the whole scheme to the Government. The poor adventurer was surrounded by spies, from Stukely downwards, and the toils were gathering round him on every side. On the evening of the same August 9, Raleigh, accompanied by Captain King, Stukely, Hart, and a page, embarked from the river-side in two wherries, and was rowed down towards Tilbury. Raleigh presently noticed that a larger boat was following them; at Greenwich, Stukely threw off the mask of friendship and arrested King, who was thrown then and there into the Tower. What became of Raleigh that night does not appear; he was put into the Tower next day. When he was arrested his pockets were found full of jewels and golden ornaments, the diamond ring Queen Elizabeth had given him, a loadstone in a scarlet purse, an ounce of ambergriece, and fifty pounds in gold; these fell into the hands of the traitor 'Sir Judas' Stukely.

Outside the Tower the process of Raleigh's legal condemnation now pursued its course. A commission was appointed to consider the charges brought against the prisoner, and evidence was collected on all sides. Raleigh was obliged to sit with folded hands. He could only hope that the eloquence and patriotism of his Apology might possibly appeal to the sympathy of James. As so often before, he merely showed that he was ignorant of the King's character, for James read the Apology without any other feeling than one of triumph that it amounted to a confession of guilt. The only friend that Raleigh could now appeal to was Anne of Denmark, and to her he forwarded, about August 15, a long petition in verse:

 
Cold walls, to you I speak, but you are senseless!
Celestial Powers, you hear, but have determined,
And shall determine, to my greatest happiness.
 
 
Then unto whom shall I unfold my wrong,
Cast down my tears, or hold up folded hands? —
To Her to whom remorse doth most belong;
 
 
To Her, who is the first, and may alone
Be justly called, the Empress of the Britons.
Who should have mercy if a Queen have none?
 

Queen Anne responded as she had always done to Raleigh's appeals. If his life had lain in her hands, it would have been a long and a happy one. She immediately wrote to Buckingham, knowing that his influence was far greater than her own with the King, and her letter exists for the wonder of posterity. She writes to her husband's favourite: 'My kind Dog,' for so the poor lady stoops to address him, '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.' Buckingham, however, was already pledged to aid the Spanish alliance, and the Queen's letter was unavailing.

On August 17 and on two subsequent occasions Raleigh was examined before the Commissioners, the charge being formally drawn up by Yelverton, the Attorney-General. He was accused of having abused the King's confidence by setting out to find gold in a mine which never existed, with instituting a piratical attack on a peaceful Spanish settlement, with attempting to capture the Mexican plate fleet, although he had been specially warned that he would take his life in his hands if he committed any one of these three faults. It is hard to understand how Mr. Edwards persuaded himself to brand each of these charges as 'a distinct falsehood.' The sympathy we must feel for Raleigh's misfortunes, and the enthusiasm with which we read the Apology, should not, surely, blind us to the fact that in neither of these three matters was his action true or honest. We have no particular account of his examinations, but it is almost certain that they wrung from him admissions of a most damaging character. He had tried to make James a catspaw in revenging himself on Spain, and he had to take the consequences.

It was of great importance to the Government to understand why France had meddled in the matter. The Council, therefore, summoned La Chesnée, the envoy who had made propositions to Raleigh at Brentford and at Broad Street; but he denied the whole story, and said he never suggested flight to Raleigh. So little information had been gained by the middle of September, that it was determined to employ a professional spy. The person selected for this engaging office was Sir Thomas Wilson, one of the band of English pensioners in the pay of Spain. The most favourable thing that has ever been said of Stukely is that he was not quite such a scoundrel as Wilson. On September 9 this person, who had known Raleigh from Elizabeth's days, and was now Keeper of the State Papers, was supplied with 'convenient lodging within or near unto the chambers of Sir Walter Raleigh.' At the same time Sir Allen Apsley, the Lieutenant, who had guarded the prisoner hitherto, was relieved.

Wilson's first act was not one of conciliation. He demanded that Raleigh should be turned out of his comfortable quarters in the Wardrobe Tower to make room for Wilson, who desired that the prisoner should have the smaller rooms above. To this, and other demands, Apsley would not accede. Wilson then began to do his best to insinuate himself into Raleigh's confidence, and after about a fortnight seems to have succeeded. We have a very full report of his conversations with Raleigh, but they add little to our knowledge, even if Wilson's evidence could be taken as gospel. Raleigh admitted La Chesnée's offer of a French passage, and his own proposal to seize the Mexican fleet; but both these points were already known to the Council.

Towards the end of September two events occurred which brought matters more to a crisis. On the 24th Raleigh wrote a confession to the King, in which he said that the French Government had given him a commission, that La Chesnée had three times offered him escape, and that he himself was in possession of important State secrets, of which he would make a clean breast if the King would pardon him. This important document was found at Simancas, and first published in 1868 by Mr. St. John. On the same day Philip III. sent a despatch to James I. desiring him in peremptory terms to save him the trouble of hanging Raleigh at Madrid by executing him promptly in London. As soon as this ultimatum arrived, James applied to the Commissioners to know how it would be best to deal with the prisoner judicially. Several lawyers assured him that Raleigh was under sentence of death, and that therefore no trial was necessary; but James shrank from the scandal of apparent murder. The Commissioners were so fully satisfied of Raleigh's guilt that they advised the King to give him a public trial, under somewhat unusual forms. He was to be tried before the Council and the judges, a few persons of rank being admitted as spectators; the conduct of the trial to be the same as though it were proceeding in Westminster Hall. On receipt of the despatch from Madrid, that is to say on October 3, Lady Raleigh, whose presence was no longer required, was released from the Tower.

The trial before the Commissioners began on October 22. Mr. Gardiner has printed in the Camden Miscellany such notes of cross-examination as were preserved by Sir Julius Cæsar, but they are very slight. Raleigh seems to have denied any intention to stir up war between England and Spain, and declared that he had confidently believed in the existence of the mine. But he made no attempt to deny that in case the mine failed he had proposed the taking of the Mexican fleet. At the close of the examination, Bacon,¹³ in the name of the Commissioners, told Raleigh that he was guilty of abusing the confidence of King James and of injuring the subjects of Spain, and that he must prepare to die, being 'already civilly dead.' Raleigh was then taken back to the Tower, where he was left in suspense for ten days. Meanwhile the Justices of the King's Bench were desired to award execution upon the old Winchester sentence of 1603. It is thought that James hoped to keep Raleigh from appearing again in public, but the judges said that he must be brought face to face with them. On October 28, therefore, Raleigh was roused from his bed, where he was suffering from a severe attack of the ague, and was brought out of the Tower, which he never entered again. He was taken so hastily that he had no time for his toilet, and his barber called out that his master had not combed his head. 'Let them kem that are to have it,' was Raleigh's answer; and he continued, 'Dost thou know, Peter, any plaister that will set a man's head on again, when it is off?'

When he came before Yelverton, he attempted to argue that the Guiana commission had wiped out all the past, including the sentence of 1603. He began to discuss anew his late voyage; but the Chief Justice, interrupting him, told him that he was to be executed for the old treason, not for this new one. Raleigh then threw himself on the King's mercy, being every way trapped and fettered; without referring to this appeal, the Chief Justice proceeded to award execution. Raleigh was to be beheaded early next morning in Old Palace Yard. He entreated for a few days' respite, that he might finish some writings, but the King had purposely left town that no petitions for delay might reach him. Bacon produced the warrant, which he had drawn up, and which bore the King's signature and the Great Seal.

Raleigh was taken from Westminster Hall to the Gate House. He was in high spirits, and meeting his old friend Sir Hugh Beeston, he urged him to secure a good place at the show next morning. He himself, he said, was sure of one. He was so gay and chatty, that his cousin Francis Thynne begged him to be more grave lest his enemies should report his levity. Raleigh answered, 'It is my last mirth in this world; do not grudge it to me.' Dr. Tounson, Dean of Westminster, to whom Raleigh was a stranger, then attended him; and was somewhat scandalised at this flow of mercurial spirits. 'When I began,' says the Dean, 'to encourage him against the fear of death, he seemed to make so light of it that I wondered at him. When I told him that the dear servants of God, in better causes than his, had shrunk back and trembled a little, he denied it not. But yet he gave God thanks that he had never feared death.' The good Dean was puzzled; but his final reflection was all to Raleigh's honour. After the execution he reported that 'he was the most fearless of death that ever was known, and the most resolute and confident; yet with reverence and conscience.'

It was late on Thursday evening, the 28th, that Lady Raleigh learned the position of affairs. She had not dreamed that the case was so hopeless. She hastened to the Gate House, and until midnight husband and wife were closeted together in conversation, she being consoled and strengthened by his calm. Her last word was that she had obtained permission to dispose of his body. 'It is well, Bess,' he said, 'that thou mayst dispose of that dead, which thou hadst not always the disposing of when alive.' And so, with a smile, they parted. When his wife had left him, Raleigh sat down to write his last verses:

 
Even such is time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with earth and dust;
Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days;
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
My God shall raise me up, I trust.
 

At the same hour Lady Raleigh was preparing for the horrors of the morrow. She sent off this note to her brother, Sir Nicholas Carew:

I desire, good brother, that you will be pleased to let me bury the worthy body of my noble husband, Sir Walter Raleigh, in your church at Beddington, where I desire to be buried. The Lords have given me his dead body, though they denied me his life. This night he shall be brought you with two or three of my men. Let me hear presently. God hold me in my wits.

There was probably some difficulty in the way, for Raleigh's body was not brought that night to Beddington.

In the morning the Dean of Westminster entered the Gate House again. Raleigh, who had perhaps not gone to bed all night, had just finished a testamentary paper of defence. Dr. Tounson found him still very cheerful and merry, and administered the Communion to him. After the Eucharist, Raleigh talked very freely to the Dean, defending himself, and going back in his reminiscences to the reign of Elizabeth. He declared that the world would yet be persuaded of his innocence, and he once more scandalised the Dean by his truculent cheerfulness. He ate a hearty breakfast, and smoked a pipe of tobacco. It was now time to leave the Gate House; but before he did so, a cup of sack was brought to him. The servant asked if the wine was to his liking, and Raleigh replied, 'I will answer you as did the fellow who drank of St. Giles' bowl as he went to Tyburn, "It is good drink, if a man might stay by it."'

This excitement lasted without reaction until he reached the scaffold, whither he was led by the sheriffs, still attended by Dr. Tounson. As they passed through the vast throng of persons who had come to see the spectacle, Raleigh observed a very old man bareheaded in the crowd, and snatching off the rich night-cap of cut lace which he himself was wearing, he threw it to him, saying, 'Friend, you need this more than I do.' Raleigh was dressed in a black embroidered velvet night-gown over a hare-coloured satin doublet and a black embroidered waistcoat. He wore a ruff-band, a pair of black cut taffetas breeches, and ash-coloured silk stockings, thus combining his taste for magnificence with a decent regard for the occasion. The multitude so pressed upon him, and he had walked with such an animated step, that when he ascended the scaffold, erect and smiling, he was observed to be quite out of breath.

There are many contemporary reports of Sir Walter Raleigh's deportment at this final moment of his life. In the place of these hackneyed narratives, we may perhaps quote the less-known words of another bystander, the republican Sir John Elyot, who was at that time a young man of twenty-eight. In his Monarchy of Man, which remained in manuscript until 1879, Elyot says:

Take an example in that else unmatched fortitude of our Raleigh, the magnanimity of his sufferings, that large chronicle of fortitude. All the preparations that are terrible presented to his eye, guards and officers about him, fetters and chains upon him, the scaffold and executioner before him, and then the axe, and more cruel expectation of his enemies, and what did all that work on the resolution of that worthy? Made it an impression of weak fear, or a distraction of his reason? Nothing so little did that great soul suffer, but gathered more strength and advantage upon either. His mind became the clearer, as if already it had been freed from the cloud and oppression of the body, and that trial gave an illustration to his courage, so that it changed the affection of his enemies, and turned their joy into sorrow, and all men else it filled with admiration, leaving no doubt but this, whether death was more acceptable to him, or he more welcome unto death.

At the windows of Sir Randolph Carew, which were opposite to the scaffold, Raleigh observed a cluster of gentlemen and noblemen, and in particular several of those who had been adventurers with him for the mine on the Orinoco. He perceived, amongst others, the Earls of Arundel, Oxford, and Northampton. That these old friends should hear distinctly what he had to say was his main object, and he therefore addressed them with an apology for the weakness of his voice, and asked them to come down to him. Arundel at once assented, and all the company at Carew's left the balcony, and came on to the scaffold, where those who had been intimate with Raleigh solemnly embraced him. He then began his celebrated speech, of which he had left a brief draft signed in the Gate House. There are extant several versions of this address, besides the one he signed. In the excitement of the scene, he seems to have said more, and to have put it more ingeniously, than in the solitude of the previous night. His old love of publicity, of the open air, appeared in the first sentence: