Elizabeth thought of the plan, indeed the air was so full of talk about the proposed Virginian colony that she could have hardly helped thinking about it. In Virginia there was fertile soil, a good hope of finding gems and gold, and little probability of trouble with the Indians. Her councilors discussed the plan. Said one to another:—
“Think you that the queen will aid young Raleigh?”
“‘Sir Walter’ you must say now that he has become a knight,” rejoined the second. “Yes, I do believe that she will. Has she not followed his every whim till Leicester has fairly turned green with jealousy? She has just given him the wine monopoly, and that is worth thousands of pounds in a single year. If she gives him that, would she withhold aid for the bringing up of this ‘godchild’ of hers?”
“You’re a shrewd man, I admit,” said the first, “but I’ve watched this queen of ours since she was no higher than my table, and I’ve never yet seen her affection for any one get the better of her. She’s a woman, but she’s also a queen, and she’s more queen than woman.”
“I’m not the man to hold an opinion and fear to back it up,” rejoined the other. “I’ve a fair bit of land down in Devon, and I’ll wager it against that house of yours in London that she’ll help ‘educate the godchild.’”
The land was lost, for Elizabeth could not bear to part with her gold pieces unless she could be sure of a generous return. Raleigh did not give up his plan, however, and soon a company of colonists was sent to Roanoke Island, off the coast of what is now North Carolina. The colony failed because the new settlers were too eager to search for gold to spend their time planting corn and beans, or even peas that would grow fourteen inches in ten days. “They are lazy and homesick, and they talk too much,” reported the governor, and when a fleet of Drake’s came to shore, they all went aboard and sailed for home.
These homesick colonists carried tobacco with them to England, and smoking soon became the fashionable amusement. Sir Walter was enthusiastic in its praise.
“One would think that this wonderful plant of yours was your own child,” said the queen to him as he sat puffing out the smoke from his silver pipe, “you claim for it so many virtues.”
“You say well, Madam,” declared Sir Walter. “It is verily a wonderful plant.”
“And I suppose you would even say that you could tell the weight of that smoke of yours. There’s no boundary to your impudence.”