Sir Walter Raleigh and His Time. Charles Kingsley

things, how hard to teach himself that he must not do them all!  How hard to say to himself, ‘I must cut off the right hand, and pluck out the right eye.  I must be less than myself, in order really to be anything.  I must concentrate my powers on one subject, and that perhaps by no means the most seemingly noble or useful, still less the most pleasant, and forego so many branches of activity in which I might be so distinguished, so useful.’  This is a hard lesson.  Raleigh took just sixty-six years learning it; and had to carry the result of his experience to the other side of the dark river, for there was no time left to use it on this side.  Some readers may have learnt the lesson already.  If so, happy and blessed are they.  But let them not therefore exalt themselves above Walter Raleigh; for that lesson is, of course, soonest learnt by the man who can excel in few things, later by him who can excel in many, and latest of all by him who, like Raleigh, can excel in all.

      Few details remain concerning the earlier court days of Raleigh.  He rises rapidly, as we have seen.  He has an estate given him in Ireland, near his friend Spenser, where he tries to do well and wisely, colonising, tilling, and planting it: but like his Virginia expeditions, principally at second hand.  For he has swallowed (there is no denying it) the painted bait.  He will discover, he will colonise, he will do all manner of beautiful things, at second hand: but he himself will be a courtier.  It is very tempting.  Who would not, at the age of thirty, have wished to have been one of that chosen band of geniuses and heroes whom Elizabeth had gathered round her?  Who would not, at the age of thirty, have given his pound of flesh to be captain of her guard, and to go with her whithersoever she went?  It is not merely the intense gratification to carnal vanity—which if any man denies or scoffs at, always mark him down as especially guilty—which is to be considered; but the real, actual honour, in the mind of one who looked on Elizabeth as the most precious and glorious being which the earth had seen for centuries.  To be appreciated by her; to be loved by her; to serve her; to guard her; what could man desire more on earth?

      Beside, he becomes a member of Parliament now; Lord Warden of the Stannaries; business which of course keeps him in England, business which he performs, as he does all things, wisely and well.  Such a generation as this ought really to respect Raleigh a little more, if it be only for his excellence in their own especial sphere—that of business.  Raleigh is a thorough man of business.  He can ‘toil terribly,’ and what is more, toil to the purpose.  In all the everyday affairs of life, he remains without a blot; a diligent, methodical, prudent man, who, though he plays for great stakes, ventures and loses his whole fortune again and again, yet never seems to omit the ‘doing the duty which lies nearest him’; never gets into mean money scrapes; never neglects tenants or duty; never gives way for one instant to ‘the eccentricities of genius.’

      If he had done so, be sure that we should have heard of it.  For no man can become what he has become without making many an enemy; and he has his enemies already.  On which statement naturally occurs the question—why?  An important question too; because several of his later biographers seem to have running in their minds some such train of thought as this—Raleigh must have been a bad fellow, or he would not have had so many enemies; and because he was a bad fellow, there is an à priori reason that charges against him are true.  Whether this be arguing in a circle or not, it is worth searching out the beginning of this enmity, and the reputed causes of it.  In after years it will be because he is ‘damnable proud,’ because he hated Essex, and so forth: of which in their places.  But what is the earliest count against him?  Naunton, who hated Raleigh, and was moreover a rogue, has no reason to give, but that ‘the Queen took him for a kind of oracle, which much nettled them all; yea, those he relied on began to take this his sudden favour for an alarm; to be sensible of their own supplantation, and to project his; which shortly made him to sing, “Fortune my foe.”’

      Now, be this true or not, and we do not put much faith in it, it gives no reason for the early dislike of Raleigh, save the somewhat unsatisfactory one which Cain would have given for his dislike of Abel.  Moreover, there exists a letter of Essex’s, written as thoroughly in the Cain spirit as any we ever read; and we wonder that, after reading that letter, men can find courage to repeat the old sentimentalism about the ‘noble and unfortunate’ Earl.  His hatred of Raleigh—which, as we shall see hereafter, Raleigh not only bears patiently, but requites with good deeds as long as he can—springs, by his own confession, simply from envy and disappointed vanity.  The spoilt boy insults Queen Elizabeth about her liking for the ‘knave Raleigh.’  She, ‘taking hold of one word disdain,’ tells Essex that ‘there was no such cause why I should thus disdain him.’  On which, says Essex, ‘as near as I could I did describe unto her what he had been, and what he was; and then I did let her see, whether I had come to disdain his competition of love, or whether I could have comfort to give myself over to the service of a mistress that was in awe of such a man.  I spake for grief and choler as much against him as I could: and I think he standing at the door might very well hear the worst that I spoke of him.  In the end, I saw she was resolved to defend him, and to cross me.’  Whereupon follows a ‘scene,’ the naughty boy raging and stamping, till he insults the Queen, and calls Raleigh ‘a wretch’; whereon poor Elizabeth, who loved the coxcomb for his father’s sake, ‘turned her away to my Lady Warwick,’ and Essex goes grumbling forth.

      Raleigh’s next few years are brilliant and busy ones; and gladly, did space permit, would I give details of those brilliant adventures which make this part of his life that of a true knight-errant.  But they are mere episodes in the history; and we must pass them quickly by, only saying that they corroborate in all things our original notion of the man—just, humane, wise, greatly daring and enduring greatly; and filled with the one fixed idea, which has grown with his growth and strengthened with his strength, the destruction of the Spanish power, and colonisation of America by English.  His brother Humphrey makes a second attempt to colonise Newfoundland, and perishes as heroically as he had lived.  Raleigh, undaunted by his own loss in the adventure and his brother’s failure, sends out a fleet of his own to discover to the southward, and finds Virginia.  One might spend pages on this beautiful episode; on the simple descriptions of the fair new land which the sea-kings bring home; on the profound (for those times at least) knowledge which prompted Raleigh to make the attempt in that particular direction which had as yet escaped the notice of the Spaniards; on the quiet patience with which, undaunted by the ill-success of the first colonists, he sends out fleet after fleet, to keep the hold which he had once gained; till, unable any longer to support the huge expense, he makes over his patent for discovery to a company of merchants, who fare for many years as ill as Raleigh himself did: but one thing one has a right to say, that to this one man, under the providence of Almighty God, do the whole of the United States of America owe their existence.  The work was double.  The colony, however small, had to be kept in possession at all hazards; and he did it.  But that was not enough.  Spain must be prevented from extending her operations northward from Florida; she must be crippled along the whole east coast of America.  And Raleigh did that too.  We find him for years to come a part-adventurer in almost every attack on the Spaniards: we find him preaching war against them on these very grounds, and setting others to preach it also.  Good old Hariot (Raleigh’s mathematical tutor, whom he sent to Virginia) re-echoes his pupil’s trumpet-blast.  Hooker, in his epistle dedicatory of his Irish History, strikes the same note, and a right noble one it is.  ‘These Spaniards are trying to build up a world-tyranny by rapine and cruelty.  You, sir, call on us to deliver the earth from them, by doing justly and loving mercy; and we will obey you!’ is the answer which Raleigh receives, as far as I can find, from every nobler-natured Englishman.