The hostility of his rivals subjected him to harsh ill treatment. It did not dampen his love for England.
The silly caprices of Queen Elizabeth, who—like most women—was swayed, not by her reason, but by her sentiments, made him suffer imprisonment. Yet, it did not dampen his love for England.
The terrible and bitter dislike of King James—who succeeded the Virgin Queen—finally led to his trial for treason; his execution; and his death.
Yet, it did not dampen his love for England.
If England can produce men of such a mold, nowadays, she will continue to be a mighty world power.
Do you think that you could be as patriotic as Sir Walter Raleigh? Particularly if you were treated as he was treated? Think it over!
One day, the ancient palace of Greenwich, which stood on the banks of the Thames—a few miles below London—presented a lively and brilliant scene. Courtiers, arrayed in gorgeous colors and glittering ornaments, walked about, chattering gaily—like a flock of sparrows. Fine, young cavaliers were there, attired in rich velvets, sparkling with gems, armed with gold-hilted swords. Grave statesmen wandered around—with beards as white as their ruffles. Stately dames, with heavy and gaily trimmed trains, peered at the beautiful belles, and said:
“My, isn’t she a fright!” or
“Goodness, what dreadful manners the Duchess so-and-so has!”
Just as they do to-day. Times do not change.
Trumpets blared a fan-fa-rade and lines of soldiers gave forth inspiriting sounds, with many musical instruments. There was a stir and flutter in the crowd; and some one called out:
“She’s coming! Hats off to the Queen!”
So all the men took off their hats—for they were courtiers, and it was their business to do so, whenever Her Royal Highness came around. Many of them didn’t like to do it but if they hadn’t done so, some spy would have cried out “Treason!” And they would have been hustled off to the Tower. You just bet they took off their hats!
Descending the broad flight of steps, with proud and majestic mien, the tall and slender figure of Elizabeth—the maiden Queen of England—was seen approaching.
She was then in the mature ripeness of middle age, but she still preserved not a few remnants of the beauty of her youth. Her form was straight and well proportioned. Her large, blue eyes were yet bright and expressive; her complexion was still wonderfully fair and smooth. Her well arranged hair was luxuriant and was of a light red. A large, fan-like collar of richest lace rose from her slender neck, above her head behind; and her tresses were combed high from her forehead. Jewels blazed from her dress. Her attire was far more splendid than that of any of the ladies of her court.
As it happened, a heavy shower had just passed over, and little puddles of water stood all around upon the gravelled paths. Bursting through the fast-vanishing clouds, the sun cast its rays upon the trees still dripping with glittering drops; and upon the smiling Queen, who—surrounded by a gay group of courtiers—set forth upon a promenade through the park. She chatted affably with all. They tried to make themselves as agreeable as possible, for he who was most agreeable received the best plums from the Royal Tree. Politics haven’t changed any since that day.
The Queen walked on, playing with a beautiful, white greyhound, and, pretty soon she came to a muddy spot in the path.
“Zounds!” said she (or it may have been something stronger, for historians say that she could “swear valiantly”). “Zounds! Now I will spoil my pretty shoes!”
“And also your pretty feet,” interjected a courtier. He received a smile for this compliment and the Queen mentally made a note of it—for future use in the distribution of Court Favors.
She hesitated, looked around aimlessly, and stood still.
At this instant a young noble—six feet tall and elegantly attired—stepped forward; and, throwing aside his richly embroidered cloak, spread it over the muddy pool.
“Prithee, pass onward!” said he, bowing low.
Elizabeth was delighted.
“Good Walter Raleigh,” said she, smiling. “You are truly a gallant knight!” And she tripped gaily across the embroidered mantlet. “I will reward you right well for this!”
But the courtiers, the Ladies, and the Statesmen glanced with undisguised envy at the young gallant who had so readily pleased their Mistress; and they scowled at him as Elizabeth kept him at her side during the rest of her promenade. “The Beggar’s outdone us all!” said one. “Down with him!”
But they could not down Sir Walter just then. After awhile they had “their innings.”
Rough, vain, whimsical Queen Bess was fond of handsome, and especially of witty and eloquent young men. She grew more attached to Sir Walter Raleigh every day. He rapidly rose in power and influence, and, as a poet, became well known. His verses were read in the luxurious halls of the palace with exclamations of delight, while the tales of his military exploits were eagerly repeated from mouth to mouth; for Raleigh had fought valiantly in France and had helped to suppress an insurrection in Ireland.
And still the jealous courtiers murmured among themselves.
Raleigh was appointed “Warden of the Stanneries,” or mines, in Cornwall and Devonshire, from which he derived, each year, a large income. He was made Captain of the Queen’s Guard. He was created Lord Lieutenant of Cornwall and Vice-Admiral of Devon. He received vast estates in Ireland and many privileges and licenses, so that he was fast becoming a rich man. He was splendid and extravagant in his dress. He grew arrogant. He had, in fact, “too much Ego in his Cosmos.”
So, the jealous courtiers continued to murmur among themselves.
Elizabeth was fickle as well as sentimental. Her fancy passed lightly from one gallant to another. For some time Leicester (who had once been her sole favorite, and who desired to regain his position) had been growing jealous of Raleigh’s ascendency; and he had been delighted to see that Queen Bess had taken a violent fancy to the impetuous Earl of Essex. A quarrel took place between Raleigh and the Ruler of England. He was affronted before the whole court and retired to his chambers, overwhelmed with grief.
SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
And all the jealous courtiers punched each other beneath the ribs, and laughed “Ha! Ha! Ha! What did we tell you?”
It took the “Ego” out of Raleigh’s “Cosmos.”
But the gallant courtier had a half-brother—Sir Humphrey Gilbert—who had just returned from a voyage around the world in the good ship Golden Hind.
“Let’s fit out a small fleet,” said he to Raleigh, “and establish an English colony in Newfoundland.”
“I’m with you,” cried Sir Walter. “We’ll found another England in far distant America! On with it!”
Thus, an expedition of five ships sailed from Plymouth, in the early summer of 1583. Sir Humphrey boarded the Squirrel, and bade his kinsman an affectionate adieu.
“You must remain behind,” said he, “and regain our position at court!”
“That I will endeavor to do,” answered Raleigh. “Good luck and God speed.”
The expedition was a failure from the start. Scarcely had the shallops gone to sea, than one of them—the Raleigh—deserted its companions and put back. The rest reached Newfoundland, but the men were lawless and insubordinate.
“This is the Deuce of a cold place for a colony,” they said. “Home to Merrie England!”
Gilbert