allowed him fairly to set sail, and get out to sea, he was followed by Sir Martin Frobisher with peremptory orders that the Admiral should resign his post to Frobisher, jointly with Sir John Borough, and return forthwith to the Court.1 Edwards says that Ralegh's "crime" was now (ie. late in May or early in June) fully known to the Queen, and seems to suppose that the recall was on that ground. It is possible, however, that the Queen did not find out about Ralegh's relations with Elizabeth Throgmorton until he returned, and the reference to the incident in the poem "Cynthia " supports, for what it may be worth, this view:

To seek new worlds for gold, for praise, for glory,

To try desire, to try love severed far,

When I was gone, she sent her memory,

More strong than were ten thousand ships of war;

To call me back, to leave great honour's thought,
To leave my friends, my fortune, my attempt;
To leave the purpose I so long had sought,

To hold both cares and comforts in contempt.3

Be that as it may, when Elizabeth discovered the state of affairs between Ralegh and her maid of honour, which, in any case, was not later than June 1592, she committed them both to the Tower. During the early period of his imprisonment Ralegh affected an almost frenzied distress at the separation from his royal mistress. He had, of course, many enemies at Court and much to apprehend from the loss of the Queen's favour, and it seems clear that the extravagance of his behaviour was mainly an artifice to win back the Queen. He had recourse to a somewhat similar piece of play-acting when under arrest on his return from Guiana in 1617. The crude and fantastic letter of flattery addressed to Cecil from the Tower in July 1592, which was, of course, intended to be shown to the Queen, was evidently also part of this scheme. So too, in my opinion, were certain of the very beautiful poems-in marked contrast,

1 Cf. Hakluyt, vol. vii. 105-108; and Purchas, vol. xvi. 13-17 (Hakl. Soc.). 2 Edwards, Life, i. 147. 3 Hannah, Courtly Poets, p. 34.

in this respect, with the letter-of which I regard Bacon as the author. In these Ralegh is represented as deeply in love with the Queen, as pining in utter desolation at the loss of her affection, his youth wasted in the pursuit of a hopeless passion and his life ruined. The facts were quite different. Ralegh in 1592 was in the fulness of his manhood, and in love with his wife, whom he married probably on his release from the Tower at the end of that year, or possibly secretly before his imprisonment. We shall come presently to the poems, and in the meantime I give Ralegh's letter from the Tower :

To Sir Robert Cecil, from the Tower, July 1592

[As printed by Murdin, from the original.]

Sir-I pray be a mean to her Majesty for the signing of the bills for the Gards' coats, which are to be made now for the Prograsse, and which the Cleark of the Cheeck hath importunde me to write for.

My heart was never broken till this day, that I hear the Queen goes away so far of, whom I have followed so many years with so great love and desire, in so many journeys, and am now left behind her, in a dark prison all alone. While she was yet nire at hand, that I might hear of her once in two or three dayes, my sorrows were the less: but even now my heart is cast into the depth of all misery. I, that was wont to behold her riding like Alexander, hunting like Diana, walking like Venus, the gentle wind blowing her fair hair about her pure cheeks, like a nymph; sometime siting in the shade like a Goddess; sometime singing like an angell; sometime playing like Orpheus. Behold the sorrow of this world! Once amiss, hath bereaved me of all. O Glory, that only shineth in misfortune, what is becum of thy assurance? All wounds have skares, but that of fantasie; all affections their relenting, but that of womankind. Who is the judge of friendship, but adversity? or when is grace witnessed, but in offences? There were no divinety, but by reason of compassion; for revenges are brutish and mortall. All those times past, the loves, the sythes, the sorrows, the desires, can they not way down one frail misfortune? Cannot one dropp of gall be hidden in so great heaps of sweetness? I may then conclude, Spes et fortuna, valete. She is gone, in whom I trusted, and of me hath not one thought of mercy, nor any respect of that that was. Do with me now, therefore, what you list. I am more

weary of life then they are desirous 1 should perish; which if it had been for her, as it is by her, I had been too happily born.Yours, not worthy any name or title,

Addressed: To my honorable friend, Sir Robert Cecill, Knight, of Her Majesty's most honorable Privy Councell.

W. R.1

Ralegh was not precluded from communicating with his friends during his detention at this time (see, for instance, p. 446, note), and the suggestion which I have to make at this point is that this letter has been constructed out of some draft framed by Bacon for the purpose of winning back the Queen. The letter employs the language of some of the poems; it has the cadences of some of the fanciful writings such as the Arcadia and the Court Devices; and the letters, admittedly written by Bacon for Essex when he was in disfavour, furnish a parallel, the style being adapted in each case to the circumstances and character of the man.

It is important in connection with this inquiry to note the relations of Ralegh and his wife. If Ralegh was attached to his wife the poem to "Cynthia" is insincere from beginning to end. The same is true of the exquisite poem, As you came from the holy land Of Walsinghame," 2 which has the appearance of being a sort of conversion into verse of the ridiculous and (rightly considered) abominable letter to Cecil above quoted. It can hardly be doubted that Ralegh was devoted to the Queen as a subject, but it is impossible to suppose that he can have composed these beautiful love poems unless he was either a consummate literary artist (of which there is no trace in his letters or character), or at least was not insincere in the passion which they express. evidently is some sincerity of motive, from source derived, running through these poems. belief it is wrapped up in the story of another man, who is making use of the theme handled as a means of selfexpression, dramatically. If, on the other hand, the

1 Edwards, Life, ii. 51.

For there whatever But in my

2 Hannah, Courtly Poets, p. 80; quoted at p. 455 below.

poems really mean what they appear to mean on the surface, then it is impossible that Ralegh can have been in love with his wife. But unless he had been, how could he have written to her on the eve of his expected execution in 1603, "Remember your poore childe for his father's sake [i.e. in case of re-marriage, which he considers would be best for her] that chose you and loved you in his happiest tymes"? The days were unscrupulous, and Ralegh was, no doubt, as unscrupulous as any in carving his career, but it seems clear that he had great private virtues, and that he was a man of sincere and genuine feelings where his affections were placed. The passion and melancholy which find expression in the poems are inconsistent with this feature in Ralegh's character and with his love for his wife, and I find it impossible, on this ground alone, to believe that he wrote them. I feel equally sure that he was incapable of writing them, being in all respects a man of action and only a man of letters by accident and as a means of relief from the tragedy of his long imprisonment. There is no room for doubt that Ralegh loved his wife, and she him, with a real and constant affection. He frequently refers to her in his letters to Cecil as "my Bess," and addresses her in his troubles from Guiana in 1617 (the year before his execution) as "Sweet Heart." In a letter of the following year from St. Christopher's, in which he breaks to her the news of the death of their son, he writes, "Comfort your hart (dearest Besse), I shall sorrow for us bothe." the letter of 1603 seems conclusive on the point, and, as it is worth careful perusal, I give extracts from it as follows:

To his Wife, the night before he expected to be put to
death at Winchester, Dec. 1603

But

[From a contemporaneous transcript, collated with two others.]

You shall receave, deare wief, my last words in these my last lynes. My love I send you, that you may keepe it when I am dead; and my councell, that you may remember it when I am noe more. I would not, with my last Will, present you with

sorrowes, deare Besse.

Lett them goe to the grave with me, and be buried in the dust. And, seeing it is not the will of God that ever I shall see you in this lief, beare my destruccion gentlie and with a hart like yourself.

First I send you all the thanks my heart cann conceive, or my penn expresse, for your many troubles and cares taken for me, which though they have not taken effect as you wished—yet my debt is to you never the lesse; but pay it I never shall in this world.

1

Remember your poore childe for his father's sake [i.e. in case of re-marriage, which he considers would be best for her] that comforted 1 you and loved you in his happiest tymes. Gett those letters (if it bee possible) which I writt to the Lords, wherein I sued for my lief, but God knoweth that itt was for you and yours that I desired it, but itt is true that I disdaine myself for begging itt. And know itt (deare wief) that your sonne is the childe of a true man, and who, in his own respect, despiseth Death, and all his misshapen and ouglie formes.

I cannot wright much. God knowes howe hardlie I stole this tyme, when all sleep; and it is tyme to separate my thoughts from the world. Begg my dead body, which living was denyed you; and either lay itt att Sherborne, if the land continue, or in Exiter church, by my father and mother. I can wright noe more. Tyme and Death call me awaye.

The everlasting, infinite powerfull, and inscrutable God, that Almightie God that is goodnes itself, mercy itself, the true lief and light, keep you and yours, and have mercy on me, and teach me to forgeve my persecutors and false accusers; and send us to meete in His glorious kingdome. My true wief, farewell. Blesse my poore boye; pray for me. My true God hold you both in His armes.

Written with the dyeing hand of sometyme thy husband, but now (alasse!) overthrowne.-Yours that was; but nowe not my owne, W. RALEGH.2

During Ralegh's temporary detention in the Tower in 1592 he was evidently much exercised about his large interests in Ireland, as the two following letters show. They are good examples of the directness of Ralegh's style, and of his energy of character.

1 The alternative (and better-known) reading is "that chose you and loved you," etc. 2 Edwards, Life, ii. 284.