Bacon's Dictionary
Appendices
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21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40
41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56
57 58 59
The exhibits and miniatures of which are found in this section, are designed to assist the serious student and reader in following the path of the Authorship Controvesy that has been so laboriously persued by many authors and researchers during its commence.
These exhibits have been placed here as not to interrupt the flow of reading in the Baconian Dictionary sections, being a finding list of Bacon’s works, his history, his thoughts and his aims, which are a subject of study and discussion.
Prince Henry’s Fatal illness: A Very Complete Account
But now, whether the continual violences of his exercises, or too frequent eating of abundance of grapes and other fruits, or some settled melancholy engendered by some unknown causes, I cannot determine, yet did he look still more pale and thin, from day to day, complaining now and then of a cold lazy drowsiness in his head, which, as I think, moved him many times to ask questions of divers about him, concerning the quality, cure, and nature of the fever, called, for the strange diversity, the New Disease; belike, fearing some such like thing by his indisposition. He often used before this now and then, and in his sickness, to sigh often, whereof being sometimes demanded the cause by his Physician Dr. Hammond, and others near him, he would sometimes reply, that he knew not, sometimes that they came unawares, and sometimes also that they were not without cause.
At the beginning of October 1612, Prince Henry’s continual headache, laziness, and indisposition increasing, which notwithstanding because of the time he strove mightily to conceal, whereas often before he used to rise early in the morning to walk the fields, he did go to bed almost every morning until nine o’clock, complaining of his laziness, and that he knew not the cause; during which time, belike jealous of himself, he would many mornings before his rising ask the grooms of his Bed-chamber, “How do I look this morning?” And at other times the same question again; which they, fearing no danger, to make his Highness laugh, would put off with one jest or other. But he still continuing ill, on October 10, he had two small fits of an ague, forcing him to keep his chamber; which his Highness finding, had some speech with Dr. Hammond his Physician, willing belike to have taken some strong physique, the sooner to have removed the cause. But he not daring to be too bold with his Highness, without a further consent, did only give unto him a softening glister, which had its own good effects. On October 13, he having, as was thought, taken cold, was seized with a diarrhea; yet on the morrow he finding himself, as he said, reasonably well, because of the Palsgrave’s coming, he hasted from thence to Saint James’s, whereupon he gave order, and would needs remove on Thursday the 15th, notwithstanding any persuasions whatsoever to the contrary.
To Saint James’s he came, seeming well, but that he looked pale and ill, so that sundry did speak suspiciously of his looks, fearing some distemper in his body; yet so strong was his mind, that, complaining of nothing, he did bear out the matter very bravely in show, being so well that he gave his Physician, who had waited a long time, leave to go home to his house. Meanwhile his indisposition still continuing and increasing, there might have been perceived in him a sudden great change; for he began to be displeased almost with everything, exceeding curious in all things, yet not regarding, but looking as it were with the eyes of a stranger upon them; for sundry things showed him, which before he wanted to talk of, ask questions, and view curiously, he now scarce vouchsafed to look upon, turning them away with the back of his hand, and departing, as who would say, I take pleasure in nothing. Yet was he wonderfully busy in providing, and giving order for everything belonging to his care, for his Sister’s Marriage, advancing the same by all means possible, keeping also his Highness the Palsgrave company, so much as conveniently he could, together with Count Henry, his Excellency Grave Maurice his brother, whom he also much honoured and esteemed, belike because of a noble and heroic disposition which he saw in him fitting his humour, with whom he used to play often at cards and tennis, 1 delighting much in his company; and, above all the rest, one great match they had at tennis on Saturday October 24, the day before his last sickness, where his undaunted courage, negligently, carelessly, and willfully (neither considering the former weak estate of his body, danger, nor coldness of the season), as though his body had been of brass, did play in his shirt, as if it had been in the heat of summer; during which time he looked so wonderful ill and pale, that all the beholders took notice thereof, muttering to one another what they feared; but he, the match being ended, carried himself so well as if there was no such matter, having all this while a reasonable good stomach to meat; yet this night, at his going to bed, complaining more than usual of his laziness and headache.
But oh, whither go I now? Must I again launch out into a sea of sorrows, adding more grief unto our yet bleeding wounds? Oh Death! Was there no remedy? When wilt thou make an end? Shall the grave devour always? Was thy charge so strait that thou couldst shoot neither at great nor small, but at the Prince of our Israel? Do sweet-smelling flowers so much delight thy grisly ghastly senses appetite, that thou wouldst gather none but our fairest, well beloved, scarce-blown rose? Why didst thou so soon rob us? I know (but that thou, who scornest to reason with thy captives, disdainest to answer thy slaves) thou couldst give us many reasons; wherefore I leave to reason with thee, and, turning again to my doleful relation. On Sunday morning, October 25, 1612 the morrow after his Highness’s violent play at tennis, it was told him, (the custom of the house being to have the Sermon betimes in the morning, for the most part where the Court lay so near, because he used after his own to hear the King’s also,) that Master Wilkinson, one of his Father’s Chaplains was ready and did present his service to preach that morning if it pleased his Highness to hear him; which he no sooner heard, but, contrary to his late usual custom of long time, although that morning he found himself somewhat drowsy and ill, addressed himself to be made ready; for he wonderfully delighted to hear the said Mr. Wilkinson, ever since the time, long before, in which he heard him preach a Sermon of Judgment, which he did so well like of that many times he did speak of the same, affirming it to have been so excellent that he in a manner did show them the same. Long it was not ere his Highness was ready and gone to the Chapel to hear him.
But ere I proceed, give me leave, I intreate you, to admire the wonderful providence and goodness of God, which did so provide for him a Sermon of mortification or preparation, which you will; for the time, text, powerful delivery, method, &c., were also fitting to our following unthought-of funeral, as though an angel had come the whole week before from Heaven, prefixing unto him the time, necessity, text, order, and amplifications thereof, so truly did he thunder out the mortal misery of mankind, but chiefly of Princes. Sermon being ended, his Highness did commend the same, being very attentive all the time thereof; presently thereafter going into Whitehall, where he also did hear another Sermon with the King his Father; which being also done, to dinner they went, his Highness in outward appearance eating with a reasonable good stomach, yet looking exceeding ill and pale, with hollow ghastly dead eyes perceived of a great many. After dinner, for all his great courage and strife to over-master the greatness of his evil, dissembling the same, the Conqueror of all, about three a clock in the afternoon, began to skirmish with a sudden sickness and faintness of the heart, usual unto him, whereupon followed shortly after a shaking, with great heat and headache, which from henceforth never left him. His Highness finding himself thus suddenly taken, was forced to take his leave, departing home unto his bed; where being laid he found himself very ill, remaining all this evening in an agony, having a great drought, which after this could never be quenched but with death; his eyes also being so dim that they were not able to endure the light of a candle. This night he rested ill.
The second day, his Highness finding intermission, which continued all that day, did arise, and put on his clothes, playing at cards that day, and the next also, with his Brother the Duke of York and Count Henry. Meanwhile there were many messages sent from the Court and everywhere else, to know how things went, all which, no person surmising the least danger, were answered with good hopes; yet his Highness for all this looked ill and pale, spoke hollow, and somewhat strangely, with dead sunk eyes, his dryness of mouth and great thirst continuing. This night resting quietly. On Tuesday the 27th, the third day of his sickness, he found some ease in the morning; so that all were in good hope that it would have proved but some tertian, or bastard tertian at the most, notwithstanding that his Highness’s ghastly rowling uncoath looks did put them in some fear. This day his Majesty did send Master Nasmith, his Surgeon, to attend his Highness during his sickness; unto whom, and divers others conferring of his Highness’s sickness and the danger of the same, Doctor Mayerne 2 (his Majesty’s chief Physician) did say, that, in his judgment, the surest way for his Highness’s safety was bleeding. But his opinion not being allowed of the rest, there was as yet no consultation for blood-letting, nor any inclination that ways. This morning he did rise and put on his clothes; but his fit coming about none, first with a cold, then with a great heat, without any sweat, continuing until eight at night, he was forced to go to bed again. This night resting quietly.
On Wednesday the 28th, and fourth day of his sickness, in the morning came Master Butler, 3 the famous Physician of Cambridge, a marvelous great scholar, and of long practice and singular judgment, but withal very humorous; who, whatsoever he thought, comforting him with good hopes that he would shortly recover and that there was no danger, yet secretly unto others did not let to speak doubtfully, as they say his humour is, that he could not tell what to make of it, and that he did not well like of the same; 4 adding further, that if he did recover, he was likely to lie by it for a great while, with divers other like speeches; neither could he be persuaded all the time of his Highness’s sickness to stay any longer with him than one hour or thereabouts every morning, and so in the afternoon to give his counsel and advice with the rest. What moved him I know not; whether he did mislike the French Doctor’s company, [Mayerne] or because the cure was not committed to him as chief, or being jealous and misliking his Highness’s disease, and therefore loved not to meddle too much in the cure, which I rather imagine, or whether his health or humour impeached the same, I dare not judge, the curious may best learn from himself; yet having at his coming enquired what was done, he approved the same, and wished the continuance of the same proceedings until a further judgment might be given of the same event. Yet did his Highness find small or no ease, but his fever as yet not being continual, he did rise and put on his clothes, they all as yet conceiving reasonable good hopes.
On Thursday the 29th, and fifth day of his sickness, hopes began a little to diminish; howbeit that morning his headache was somewhat lessened, his breath also, which before was short, being longer, which moved him to put on his clothes, endeavouring to rise as he had done before; but his head being so giddy that he was not able to stand alone, he was forced to betake him to his bed again; from henceforth ever keeping his bed. This evening there appeared a fatal sign, about two hours or more within the night, bearing the colours and show of a rainbow, 5 which hung directly cross and over Saint James’s House. It was first perceived about seven a clock at night, which I myself did see, which divers others looking thereupon with admiration, continuing until past bed-time, being no more seen. This night was unquiet, and he rested ill.
On the seventh day, nature, as the day before, though not in quantity, did, as was said, show the necessity of bleeding; for which cause, it was with more instance again propounded and urged than ever, as the only means, under God, to save his Highness. At length, after much ado pro and contra, Doctor Mayerne urging and Master Butler chiefly withstanding the same, mistaking the first beginning of his Highness’s sickness; in the end the three Doctors, Mayerne, Hammond, and Butler, did agree, that on the morrow, being Sunday, the eighth broken and the seventh whole day of his last sickness, a vein should be opened; all this while, until the bleeding was past, they conceived good hope of his recovery, yet he remained dangerously ill. You must imagine that all this while of his sickness the whole world did almost every hour send unto Saint James’s for news; the better sort, who were admitted to visit him, or acquainted with those near unto him, knowing the danger, the rest fearing nothing, imagining only to have been some common tertian, for which cause in many places near unto the City he was thought dead and gone, before they knew that he was dangerously sick. This night was more cruel and unquiet unto him than any other.
On Sunday November 1st, and the eighth day of his sickness, according to their former agreement, after much ado, Master Butler resisting to consent that he should be let blood, because, as he said, it was the eighth day, preferring to have left them, until he was forced to stay and give his consent; Dr. Hammond and others proving unto him that it was not the eighth day, his Highness being ill of a long time before, howsoever he strangely, with a wonderful courage and patience, concealed the same. His Highness being still, after one, in the presence of the foresaid Doctors and divers others of very good worth, was drawn out of the median of his right arm, seven or eight ounces of blood; during which time he fainted not, bleeding well and abundantly, desiring and calling to them to take more, as they were about to stop the same, finding some ease as it were upon the instant. This day after his bleeding he found great ease; and in the afternoon he was visited by his Royal Father, Mother, Brother, Sister, the Palsgrave, with others of the Court; all which conceiving good hopes departed from thence reasonably cheerful. Yet that night, though better than others, he passed unquietly.
On Monday, November 2nd, the ninth day, Doctor Atkins, 6 a Physician of London, famous for his practice, honesty, and learning, was sent by his Majesty to assist the rest in the cure; whose opinion, as they said, was that his Highness’s disease was a corrupt putrid fever. This day and the next he was visited by the King his Father, and others of the Court, whose exceeding sorrow I cannot express; yet were they still fed with some good small hopes of his recovery. At this while, although he grew worse and worse, yet none discouraged him with any speech of death, so loath were they to think of his departure, he himself being so tormented with this and the next day’s sickness that he could not think thereof; or, if he had, yet the Physicians’ courage and hope of life, which good opinion, (his unspeakable patience not any way complaining, so that he could not have been known to be sick but by his looks,) moved them to conceive, telling him there was no danger, dashed the same. This night came upon him greater alienations of brain, ravings, and idle speeches out of purpose, calling for his clothes and his rapier, &c., saying, he must be gone, he would not stay, and I know not what else, to the great grief of all that heard him, whose hopes now began to vanish.
On Tuesday, November 3rd, and the tenth of his sickness, he became worse than before, all his former accidents increasing exceedingly, his bounding being turned into convulsions, his raving and benumbing becoming greater, the fever more violent; whereupon bleeding was again proposed by Dr. Mayerne and the favourers thereof, who still affirmed that he did mislike the too sparing proceeding with his Highness; alleging, that in this case of extremity, they must, if they mean to save his life, proceed in the cure, as though it were to some mean person, forgetting him to be a Prince whom they had now in hand, otherwise he said, for ought he saw, because he was a Prince he must die, but if he were a mean person he might be saved. This day, for easing of the extreme pain of his head, the hair was shaven away, and pigeons and cupping glasses applied to lessen and draw away the humour and that superfluous blood from the head, which he endured with wonderful and admirable patience, as though he had been insensible of pain; yet all without any good, save perhaps some small seeming hope of comfort for the present. Now began the pilots who guided this frail barque of his Highness’s body almost to despair to escape the ensuing tempests; some of whose looks did now more than ever discourage the rest. For this night he became very weak, the fever augmenting, the raving becoming worse than ever, in which he began to toss and tumble, to sing in his sleep, proffering to have leaped out of the bed, gathering the sheets together, the convulsions being more violent.
1 Tennis and Pike had always been the Prince’s most favourite amusements
2 This eminent Physician, son of Louis de Mayerne, author of a General History of Spain and of the Monarchic aristo-democratique, dedicated to the States General, was born at Geneva in 1572, and had for his godfather Theodore Beza. His religion only had prevented his being appointed Physician to Henry the Fourth of France. He first visited England in 1607, having had under his care an Englishman of quality, who on his recovery brought him to this country. He then had a private conference with James, but returned to Paris, and remained there till the assassination of Henry IV., in May 1610. It was in the following year, only the preceding one to the present, that the King had caused him to be invited by his Ambassador, to become First Physician to himself and the Queen, in which capacity he continued to James, Charles the First, and Charles the Second, (though under the latter his office was merely nominal,) till his death in 1655. He was admitted Doctor at both Universities, and into the College of Physicians. His opinion on the present occasion respecting bleeding appears to have been confirmed by the melancholy event; but he incurred some obloquy at the time, which should rather have fallen on Dr. Butler. Dr. Mayerne’s conduct, however, obtained the approbation of the King and Council, of which certificates, couched in the most satisfactory terms, were given him. He was knighted by the King, July 14, 1624 and was a particular favourite of Queen Henrietta Maria
3 Master William Butler, one of the greatest Physicians and most capricious humourists of his time, was Fellow of Clare Hall, Cambridge, and afterwards settled in that town. Among the many droll stories told of him, is one of Aubrey’s, that when he was once sent for to King James at Newmarket, he suddenly turned back to go home, and the messenger was forced to drive him before him. He died in 1618, aged 82. His sagacity in judging of distempers was very great, and his method of cure was sometimes as extraordinary; he was bold and singular in his practice, and the oddity of his manners gave him a very great character among the vulgar, who conceived that he must possess very extraordinary abilities
4 Butler is said to have made an unfavourable prognostic at first sight from the Prince’s cadaverous look
5 A lunar rainbow. The dread of these meteorological phenomena, as presaging the death of Princes and desolation of Kingdoms, was deeply impressed upon the wisest men of the time; the Poets on Prince Henry’s death, as may be imagined, did not forget to allude to so poetical an assistant as this rainbow
6 Dr. Atkins had attended the Earl of Salisbury during his fatal illness. He died at his house in Warwick-court, near Warwick-lane, September 22, 1634
On the following (the eleventh day) a cock was cloven by the back, and applied unto the soles of his feet, but in vain; the cordials also were redoubled in number and quantity, but without any profit. This afternoon his Majestic hearing of his undoubted danger, although more sober than at other times, came to see him; but being advertised how matters went, and were likely to go, and what addition of grief it would be unto him to see his best-beloved Son in that extremity, he was at last persuaded to depart without visitation; yet giving order and command before his departure, that from thenceforth, because his Highness was continually molested with a number which out of their love came to visit him, no creature should be admitted to see him, save those who of necessity must tend upon him, until the event and issue of his disease was seen, which was accordingly done; his Highness, for his more ease, being removed into another longer and quieter chamber. 7 But now all things appearing to be out of frame and confusedly evil, without hope of amendment, whereof the Archbishop of Canterbury hearing he made so much the more haste unto his Highness, when, after some discourse fitting that time, seeing so much care to be taken for the mortal body, the immortal soul being neglected, he asked his Highness whether there had been any prayers said in his chamber since his sickness, or no? To whom he answered that there had not, alleging the cause to have been the continual toile of the Doctors, Apothecaries, and Surgeons about him; and further, that until now, he was not put in mind thereof; but that for all that he had not failed to pray quietly by himself; which his answer pleasing them well, the Archbishop again demanded, if his Highness would now from thenceforth be contented to have prayers said in his chamber, which he willingly assented unto, asking which of his Chaplains were there present; amongst whom finding that Doctor Milbourne, 8 Dean of Rochester, was then present, he willed the said Dean to be called, as being one whom for his learning, good carriage, and profitable preaching, above all the rest he ever affected and respected. The Archbishop meanwhile, not willing too much to disquiet his Highness, called for to say prayers that evening at his Highness’s bed-side, where speaking somewhat low, fearing to offend his distempered ears, his Highness willed him to speak aloud, thereafter repeating the confession of his faith word by word after him; from henceforth the foresaid Dean continued to pray daily with him at his bed-side until his departure. This night was unquiet as the rest.
On Thursday morning, November 5, and the twelfth of his sickness, news was sent to his Majesty of the undoubted danger, and that there now remained no hopes or means of his Highness’s recovery, but with desperate and dangerous attempts; which his Majesty considering gave leave and absolute power to Doctor Mayerne, his chief Physician, to do what he would of himself without advice of the rest, if in such an extremity it were possible to do anything for his Highness’s safety; but he, weighing the greatness of the care and eminency of the danger, would not for all that adventure to do anything of himself, without advise of the rest, which headways took, saying, it should never be said in after ages that he had killed the King’s eldest Son. 9 His Majesty meanwhile, whose sorrow no tongue can express, not willing nor being able to stay so near the gates of so extreme sorrow, more like a dead than a living man, full of most wonderful heaviness removed to Theobalds, there to expect the doleful event. Meanwhile, amongst the Doctors Mayerne, Hammond, Butler, and Atkins, bleeding was now the third time proposed; but the rest of the counsel misliking this advice did conclude to double and treble the cordials, making a revulsion from the head with a cluster, whose working was to small effect, save that his Highness became more sensible thereafter. In the meantime the Archbishop of Canterbury, hearing of the danger, came unto his Highness in great haste, where, rending him in extreme danger, he thought it more than high time to go about another kind of cure; and therefore, like a wise and skilful Physician, first trying the humour of his patient before he would proceed in the cure, he addressed himself gently and mildly to ask how his Highness found himself since his departure; at whose reply, seeing everything amiss, he began again further to feel his mind, first preparing him his antidote against the fear of death, that the preparation thereunto, meditation and thinking thereof, could nor would bring death the sooner, but the contrary rather, arming himself so much the more against it; withal putting him in mind of the excellency and immortality of the soul, with the unspeakable joys prepared for God’s children, and the baseness and misery of the earth, with all the vain, inconstant, momentary, and frail pleasures thereof in respect of heavenly joys, with many other most excellent meditations against the same fear of death. Having thus prepared him to hear, he went further, putting him in mind of the exceeding great danger he was in; and that although he might recover, as he hoped he should, yet he might also die; and that since it was an inevitable and irrevocable necessity that all must die once, late or soon, death being the reward of sin, he asked, if it should so fall out, whether or no he was well pleased to submit himself to the will of God; to which he answered, yea, with all his heart. Then the Archbishop went on demanding questions of his faith; first, of the Religion and Church wherein he lived, which his Highness acknowledged to be the only true Church, wherein only, and without which there was no salvation; then of his faith in Christ only, by Him and in Him, without any merits of his own, being assured of the remission of all his sins, which he professed he did, hoping and trusting only therein; then of the resurrection of the body, life everlasting, and the joys of Heaven; all which he confessed and believed, hoping with all saints to enjoy the same. This conference, with a great deal more, the Archbishop had with him to this purpose; which may also give unto you absolute satisfaction of his soul’s health, if thereunto his life be considered. After which, fearing he should too much disquiet him, with many good exhortations, he took leave for that time.
This day, being November 5th, a day of everlasting remembrance and thanksgiving for our deliverance from the Powder Treason, was order given everywhere unto all Churches to pray for his Highness, until when the great danger was unknown to the Commons, which was effectually as ever until his death performed.
This day, and at sundry other times since his confusion of speech, he would many times call upon Sir David Murray, Knight, (the only man in whom he had put choice trust,) by his name, “David! David! David!” who when he came unto his Highness demanding his pleasure, in extremity of pain and stupefaction of senses confounding his speech, sighing, he did reply, “I would say somewhat, but I cannot utter it.” Which form he still used so long as he had any perfect sense or memory. This done also, but too late to assist the rest, came Doctor Palmer and Doctor Giffard, 10 famous Physicians for their honesty, learning, and physic, who with the former four went all six to a consultation what now remained finally to be done; wherein by some, as they say, was again propounded the necessity of bleeding, the opportunity whereof was now over passed. In the end, the Doctors, long before this despairing of his recovery, did at last agree upon diascordium and the only means under God, now remaining, which, tempered with cooler cordial, was given him in the presence of many honourable Gentlemen about ten o’clock at night; the operation whereof was small or none. This night was unquiet as the rest, his accidents remaining in the same sort, but now and then speaking, but so confusedly that he could not be understood.
Among the rest this night, about midnight, Master Nasmith, his Majesty’s surgeon, sitting on his bed-side, his Highness pulled him unto him by the hand, speaking unto him somewhat, but so confusedly, by reason of the rattling of his throat, that he could not be understood; which his Highness perceiving, giving a most grievous sigh as it were in anger, turned him from him, thereafter, unless he was urged, never speaking unto him or any. In this extremity Sir David Murray, who in this one death suffered many, came unto him, entreating him, and asking him, that if he had anything to say which troubled him, that he would betimes make known his mind; but his spirits being overcome, and nature weak, he was not able to say anything, save that of all other business he gave order for the burning of a number of letters in a certain cabinet in his closet, which presently after his death was done. 11
Not long after as I think on Friday morning about three o’clock his backbone, shoulders, arms, and tongue, by reason of the horrible violence of the convulsions, disjointly dividing themselves, the effect showing that the retentive power was gone, the spirits subdued, the seat of reason overcome, and nature spent; in which extremity, fainting and swooning, he seemed twice or thrice to be quite gone; at which time there arose wonderful great shouting, weeping, and crying in the chamber, court, and adjoining streets, which was so great, together with something else which they used, that they brought him again. This cry was so great that all those in the streets thought he had been dead; whereupon it went for the most part current in the city and country that he was gone. Thus given over of all into the hands of God did his Highness lie in extreme pain, during which, still now and then, till two or three hours before his death, looking up, and speaking, or endeavouring to speak, which for confusion and extremity of pain, being so near gone, could not be understood, all the world were ready in this despair to bring cordial waters, diaphoretic and quintessential spirits, to be given unto him; amongst which one in the afternoon was ministered which set that little nature remaining on work, forcing a small sweat, which too late, was the first he had. Sir Walter Raleigh also did send another from the Tower, which whether or not to give him they did a while deliberate. 12 After the operation of the first, his Highness rested quietly a little while, presently after falling into his former extremities; whereupon, as the last desperate remedy, with the leave and advice of the Lords of the Counsel there present, the cordial sent by Sir Walter Raleigh, after it had been tasted and proved, was given unto him, but in vain, save that forcing that spark of life that remained, it brought him again into a sweat; after which, as before, he had some rest for a little while. But, no remedy, death would needs be conqueror. In vain did they strive against the stream; for he shortly after became wonderful ill again; sight and sense failing, as also all the infallible signs of death approaching.
In which extremity, the Archbishop of Canterbury being there present, who seeing it was now the time of times, before the last gasp, to minister some comfort unto his Highness, if as yet there were any sense remaining, came unto him, first speaking aloud, putting him in mind of all those things which he had spoken unto him the day before in his perfect sense, calling aloud in his ear to remember Christ Jesus, to believe, hope, and trust in him, with assured confidence of mercy, to lift up his heart, and to prepare him to meet the Lord Jesus, with many other divine exhortations, thereafter calling more loud than ever, thrice together in his ear, “Sir, hear you me, hear you me, hear you me? If you hear me, in certain sign of your faith and hope of the blessed resurrection, give us for our comfort a sign, by lifting up your hands” which he did, lifting up both his hands together; again he desired him yet to give him another sign, by lifting up his eyes; which having done, they let him alone; for the Archbishop had, with streams of tears, poured out at his bed-side a most exceeding powerful passionate prayer. All this while also, from three o’clock in the morning until night, there was continual prayer in the house, and in every place where the danger was known. His Highness, at last, half a quarter, or thereabouts, before eight a clock at night, yielded up his spirit unto his immortal Maker, Saviour, and Restorer, being attended unto Heaven with as many prayers, tears, and strong cries, as ever soul was. The corps shortly after, as the custom is, was laid along upon a table on the floor, being the fairest, cleanest, and best proportioned, without any kind of spot or blemish, as ever was seen.
On the morrow after came the Lords of the Council, by appointment from his Majesty, to give order for the opening of his body, &c., which was the same night effected about five a clock in the evening, in presence of the Physicians and Chirurgeons who assisted the cure, together with the Physician of the Prince Palatine, with many other Knights and Gentlemen, in the chamber where he died, by the Chirurgeons of his Majesty and his late Highness, under all their hands. 13 [Also see Appendices Funeral of the High and Mighty Prince Henry].
7 Just over this chamber, wherein he died, did the fatal rainbow afore-mentioned hang, as Doctor Mayerne observed
8 Richard Milbourne, D.D. born at London, though of a Pembrokeshire family, and educated at Winchester and Queen’s College, Cambridge. He was Minister of Sevenoke in Kent; Cantor of the Cathedral of St. David’s Dean of Rochester; Bishop of St. David’s in 1615; Carlisle 1621; and died in 1624
9 And to this physician’s comment, the rumour of Prince Henry’s death being of poison, was born
10 This physician appears in the Disputation before the Prince and his Royal Father at Oxford in 1605
11 One would suspect how the dying Prince had the senses and strength to utter such a command
12 Dr. Welwood, in his notes on Wilson’s Life of James I., in the Complete History of England, Vol. II., p. 714, says, it was sent at the desire of the Queen, who had received relief from it in a fever some time before. Raleigh sent with it a Letter, expressing the most tender concern for the Prince; “and, boasting of his medicine, stumbled unluckily upon an expression to this purpose, that it would certainly cure him, or any other, of a fever, except in case of poison. The Prince dying though he took it, the Queen in the agony of her grief, showed Raleigh’s Letter, and lay so much weight on the expression about poison, that to her dying day, she could never be dissuaded from the opinion that her beloved Son had foul play.” Raleigh’s expressions probably flowed from an overweening conceit in the force of his own medicine, but are perhaps to be numbered among the circumstances, which ensured his destruction. The report that the Prince was poisoned was extremely general. Some surmised that he was poisoned by a scent, but this Sir Charles Cornwallis, considering the premises, thought great folly. Raleigh’s cordial was afterwards celebrated, as is proved by the following extract from Evelyn’s Diary, September 20, 1662: “I accompanied his Majesty to Mons. Febure, his chymist, (and who had formerly been my master in Paris) to see his accurate preparation for ye composing Sir Walter Raleigh’s rare cordial; he made a learned discourse before his Majesty in French on each ingredient.” Memoirs, Vol. I., p. 340
13 Dr. Birch, p. 359, gives the official report of the dissection, signed by the Physicians, from a MS., in the Cotton Library