sing contemporary comments
upon his acts. Apologists and impartial chroniclers are as distinct as
enemies in intimating that he was a constant mark for 'detraction' and
'envyings.' He was unpopular on account alike of his demeanour, of the
Queen's favour, and of the monopolizing energy in the public service by
which to posterity he has justified it. All students recollect Aubrey's
description of him as one whose blemish or 'naeve it was that he was
damnably proud.' In serious illustration of the charge, Aubrey repeats a
tale related by an old attendant, who had seen the Lord High Admiral in
the Privy Garden wipe with his cloak the dust from Ralegh's shoes 'in
compliment.' Aubrey's description of Ralegh is all hearsay; since he was
not born till 1627. He may have been told anecdotes by members of the
family; for his grandfather was a Wiltshire neighbour of Sir Carew
Ralegh, and he was himself a schoolfellow of Sir Carew's grandchildren.
But he was utterly uncritical, and his bare assertion would carry little
weight. The testimony of a sworn foe, like Lord Henry Howard, to
Ralegh's extraordinary haughtiness, may be regarded even with more
suspicion. An old acquaintance, however, and a political ally, the Earl
of Northumberland, similarly describes Ralegh as 'insolent, extremely
heated, a man that desired to seem to be able to sway all men's
courses.' That this was the current opinion, due, as it was, more or
less to misconception, is borne out by a mass of authority. Ralegh must
have profoundly impressed all about him with a sense that he felt
himself better fitted than themselves to regulate their lives. His air
of conscious superiority silenced opposition, but was resented. Neither
a mob, nor Howards and Percies pardoned his assumption of an infinite
superiority of capacity. His gaiety and splendour were treated as proofs
of arrogance. His evident contempt of 'the rascal multitude' added to
the odium which dogged his course. He never condescended to allude to
the subject in writing or in authenticated speech. Though he courted
occasions for renown, he did not seek applause. His position as a
Queen's favourite in any case must have brought aversion upon him.
Tarleton, as he half acted, half improvised, is said to have shuffled a
pack of cards, and pointed at him, standing behind the Queen's chair, an
insolent innuendo: 'See, the knave commands the Queen.' The comedian, if
the story be true, could reckon upon the support of