Sir Walter Raleigh’s beard turned up naturally, which gave him an advantage over the gallants of the time, whose moustaches received a touch of the barber’s art to give them the air then most admired.—­See Aubrey’s correspondence, vol.ii., part ii., p.500.

Note 5.  Ch.  XV.—­Court favour of sir Walter Raleigh.

The gallant incident of the cloak is the traditional account of this celebrated statesman’s rise at court.  None of Elizabeth’s courtiers knew better than he how to make his court to her personal vanity, or could more justly estimate the quantity of flattery which she could condescend to swallow.  Being confined in the Tower for some offence, and understanding the Queen was about to pass to Greenwich in her barge, he insisted on approaching the window, that he might see, at whatever distance, the Queen of his Affections, the most beautiful object which the earth bore on its surface.  The Lieutenant of the Tower (his own particular friend) threw himself between his prisoner and the window; while Sir Waiter, apparently influenced by a fit of unrestrainable passion, swore he would not be debarred from seeing his light, his life, his goddess!  A scuffle ensued, got up for effect’s sake, in which the Lieutenant and his captive grappled and struggled with fury, tore each other’s hair, and at length drew daggers, and were only separated by force.  The Queen being informed of this scene exhibited by her frantic adorer, it wrought, as was to be expected, much in favour of the captive Paladin.  There is little doubt that his quarrel with the Lieutenant was entirely contrived for the purpose which it produced.

Note 6.  Ch.  XVII.—­Robert Laneham.

Little is known of Robert Laneham, save in his curious letter to a friend in London, giving an account of Queen Elizabeth’s entertainments at Kenilworth, written in a style of the most intolerable affectation, both in point of composition and orthography.  He describes himself as a Bon VIVANT, who was wont to be jolly and dry in the morning, and by his good-will would be chiefly in the company of the ladies.  He was, by the interest of Lord Leicester, Clerk of the Council Chamber door, and also keeper of the same.  “When Council sits,” says he, “I am at hand.  If any makes a babbling, peace, say I. If I see a listener or a pryer in at the chinks or lockhole, I am presently on the bones of him.  If a friend comes, I make him sit down by me on a form or chest.  The rest may walk, a God’s name!” There has been seldom a better portrait of the pragmatic conceit and self-importance of a small man in office.

Note 7.  Ch.  XVIII.—­Dr. Julio.

The Earl of Leicester’s Italian physician, Julio, was affirmed by his contemporaries to be a skilful compounder of poisons, which he applied with such frequency, that the Jesuit Parsons extols ironically the marvellous good luck of this great favourite in the opportune deaths of those who stood in the way of his wishes.  There is a curious passage on the subject:—­