In great Eliza’s golden time.”
Once more Queen Elizabeth figures in our pageant. She is passing to her barge amidst a crowd of courtiers, who buzz round her like bees seeking the honey of her smile. Amongst the spectators of her progress you observe a young man, comely of person, handsome of face, and gallant of bearing. Suddenly her Majesty pauses; the ground is miry, and she hesitates to soil her dainty shoes. In a moment the young man has pulled off his rich plush cloak and has thrown it upon the ground for the queen to walk upon. She is flattered by the attention; she smiles graciously on the young man and says, “You have this day spoiled a gay mantle in our behalf. We thank you for your service, though the manner of offering it was unusual and something bold.”
“In a sovereign’s need,” he replies, “it is each liegeman’s duty to be bold.”
“That is well said,” the queen remarks, and at a bound the young man springs into her royal favour. It was afterwards said that the spoiling of his cloak gained him a good many suits.
The young man whose introduction to the queen you have just witnessed is Walter Raleigh, a Devonshire gentleman who has already seen much warlike service, and has shown himself to be possessed of many qualities besides personal bravery and prowess in battle. In sooth he is one of the most heroic and brilliant men of that brilliant and heroic age—explorer, soldier, sailor, poet, prose writer, and true-hearted gentleman—“a spirit without spot,” as Shelley finely calls him. Let us learn something of his career.
Raleigh was not yet thirty when he first attracted the attention of Elizabeth. He was then a tall, well-built man with thick, dark hair, a bright complexion, and an expression full of life. His dress was always magnificent, and he had the faculty of displaying himself and his capacities to the best possible advantage. His speech was bold and plausible; he was fearless and dashing, a man of a stout heart, a sound head, and a strong right hand. Now that Elizabeth had admitted him to her favour, she speedily raised him from the position of a poor gentleman adventurer to one of the most wealthy of her courtiers. He was knighted in 1584, and subsequently sat in Parliament for Devonshire.
Soon, however, he wearied of a life of luxury and busy idleness at the court, and arranged with his half-brother, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, to join him in his projected voyage to Newfoundland. But Elizabeth positively forbade him to go, and reluctantly he bowed to the royal command. Gilbert never returned from Newfoundland. On the homeward voyage he stuck to his little, unseaworthy vessel, the Squirrel, and declined to take his passage on board the Golden Hind, the larger vessel which convoyed him. To all arguments he had but one reply, “I will not forsake my little company, with whom I have passed through so many storms and perils.” When the ships were to the north of the Azores terrible seas arose, and the Squirrel was well-nigh swamped. Through all the foul weather Sir Humphrey, gallant gentleman that he was, sat on deck, calm and unmoved, reading a book. When they besought him to board the Golden Hind he said, “We are as near to heaven by sea as by land.” During the night of Monday, September 9, 1583, the watchers on the Golden Hind suddenly missed the lights of the Squirrel. She had gone down with all her crew.
Raleigh applied for the patent which Sir Humphrey, his half-brother, had held, and was accorded the royal permission to discover unknown lands, take possession of them in the queen’s name, and hold them to his own profit for six years. At once he fitted out an expedition, which coasted northward from Florida and took possession of Roanoke Island, within the lagoons of what is now North Carolina. His captains returned with a glowing account of the “good land” which they had discovered, and Raleigh took immediate steps to colonize it. He called it Virginia, in honour of the Virgin Queen.
Accordingly, in the year 1585, he sent out Sir Richard Grenville with one hundred and eight men, and on Roanoke Island a little colony was established. Ralph Lane was left in charge of the party, and Grenville sailed for home, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. Unhappily the wrong sort of men had been sent out—soft-handed gentlemen who could not dig, and were ashamed to beg. Before long there were bitter quarrels in the little hive between the drones and the workers, food ran short, and the colonists were on the verge of starvation.
In the next year Drake touched at Roanoke after his attack on Cartagena, and seeing what a helpless, shiftless crew the colonists were, he carried them all back to England save fifteen. The colony had thus proved a costly failure, but the experiment was notable, because it was the first attempt to found a greater Britain beyond the seas. He who writes the history of British expansion must never forget to give Raleigh a foremost place in the roll of Empire-makers.