A Journal devoted to American History.
(_See Editorial Notes._)
[Illustration: Engᵈ. by E. G. Williams & Bro. N.Y.]
The National Magazine.
_Vol XV._ NOVEMBER, 1891. _No. 1_
EXPLORATIONS OF THE NORTH AMERICAN COAST PREVIOUS TO THE VOYAGE OF HENRY
HUDSON.
One of the earliest Greek dreams, prominent in the classic literature,
was that of a beautiful island in the ocean at the far West. Perhaps,
nevertheless, we have been accustomed to think of the conception too much
as a dream, a piece of pure imagination; for it is absolutely certain, as
Pliny and Strabo prove, that bold Phenician navigators passed far beyond
the Pillars of Hercules into the vast Atlantic, discovering and naming
the Canary Islands, pushing their observations far and wide. Possibly,
like Columbus, as on his first voyage, they sailed over tranquil seas,
smooth as the rivers in Spain, and through ambient air, soft as the air
of Andalusia in spring, until they reached the Edenic Cuba, and thus
furnished the foundation of that Greek conception of an exquisitely fair
isle, the home of the immortals, an Elysium on whose happy, fragrant
shores the shrilly-breathing Zephyrus was ever piping for the refreshment
of weary souls.
In the fifteenth century the islands in the west formed the object of
many a voyage, but even in 1306 Marino Sanuto laid down the Canaries
anew, while Bethencourt found them in 1402. The Azores and the Madeira
Islands appear in the chart of Pizigani in 1367, and the sailors of
Prince Henry the Navigator went to the Azores, the Isles of the Hawks,
in 1431, as preparatory to those voyages which, beginning with the
rediscovery of the Cape Verde Islands in 1460, were destined to prepare
the way for the circumnavigation of Africa, and thus open the way to the
Indies by the Cape of Good Hope. Long before this, however, the Spaniards
were credited with the establishment of colonies in the western ocean,
and on the globe of Martin Behaim, in 1482, may be seen the legend
crediting Spanish bishops with the founding of seven cities in a distant
island in the year 734. In 1498 De Ayala, the Spanish ambassador in
England, reported to his sovereign that the city of Bristol had for seven
years sent out ships in search of the island of Brazil and the Seven
Cities, which were commonly laid down in maps, together with the great
island of “Antillia,” by many supposed to refer to the American Continent.
[Illustration: FERDINAND OF SPAIN.]
In the time of Columbus enterprise was generally active, and men
everywhere were eager to realize the prediction of Seneca, who declared
that the Ultima Thule, the extreme bounds of the earth, would in due
time be reached. But Columbus would win something more than beautiful
islands. He aimed at a continent, and would reach the eastern border of
Asia by sailing west, in accordance with the early philosophers, who had
accepted the spherical form of the earth, not dreaming that, instead
of a few islands, scattered like gems in the ocean, a mighty continent
barred the way. Dominated by the antique notions of the classic writers,
Columbus, after encountering and overcoming every discouragement,
finally sailed towards the golden West, finding the voyage a pleasant
excursion, interrupted only by the occasional fears of the sailors, lest
the light breeze might prevent their return to Spain, by blowing all
the time the one way. At a given point of the voyage Columbus met with
an experience, and made a decision, that perhaps determined the destiny
of North America. October 7, 1492, Martin Pinson saw flocks of parrots
flying southwest, and argued that the birds were returning to land, which
must lie in that direction. He accordingly advised the Admiral to change
the course of the ship. Columbus realized the force of the argument and
knew the significance of the flights of birds, the hawk having piloted
the Portuguese to the Azores. He was now sailing straight for the coast
of North Carolina, and must inevitably have discovered our continent,
but the parrots were accepted as guides, the course was changed to the
southwest, and in due time the Island of San Salvador rose before their
expectant eyes. All his efforts, therefore, after this memorable voyage,
were devoted to the West Indies, and in the fond belief that he had
reached fair Cathay. Consequently John Cabot was left to discover North
America at least one year before Columbus sighted the southern portion of
the western continent. Even then Columbus held that South America was a
part of India, and he finally died in ignorance of the fact that he had
reached a new world.
His error proved a most fortunate one for the English-speaking people;
since, if he had confined on the western course, the Carolinas would have
risen to view, and the splendors and riches of the Antilles might have
remained unknown long enough for Spanish enterprise to establish itself
on the Atlantic coast. This done, the magnificent Hudson would have
become the objective point of Spanish enterprise, and a Spanish fortress
and castle would to-day look down from the Weehawken Heights, the island
of New York yielding itself up as the site of a Spanish city.
The mistake of Columbus, however, was supplemented by what, perhaps,
may properly be called a series of blunders, all of them more or less
fortunate, or at least in the interest of a type of civilization
very unlike that of Spain, especially as expanded and interpreted in
Central and South America. It is, therefore, to the series of nautical
adventures following the age Columbus, and extending down to the voyage
of Henry Hudson, the Englishman, in 1609, that this article is mainly
devoted, showing how this entire region was preserved from permanent
occupation by Europeans, until it was colonized by the Walloons under the
Dutch, who providentially prepared the way for the English.
[Illustration: ISABELLA OF SPAIN.]
First, however, it may be interesting to glance at voyages made during
the Middle Ages, considering whether they had any possible connection
with the region now occupied by the city of New York.
That Northmen visited the shores of North America no reasonable inquirer
any longer doubts. Even Mr. George Bancroft, who for about half a century
cast grave reflections upon the voyages of the Northmen, and inspired
disbelief in many quarters, finally abandoned all allusion to the
subject, and subsequently explained that in throwing discredit upon the
Icelandic narratives he had fallen into error.[2]
The probability now seems to be that the Irish had become acquainted with
a great land at the west, and gave it the name of “Greenland,” which name
was simply applied by Eric the Red to a separate region, when he went to
the country now known as Greenland in the year 985. The next year Biarne
Heriulfsson, following Eric, was blown upon the north Atlantic coast,
and in the year 1000-1 Leif, son of Eric, went in quest of the land seen
by Biarne, reaching what is generally recognized as New England. Others
followed in 1002 and 1005, while from 1006 to 1009 Thorfinn Karlsefne
visited the same region, then known as “Vinland the Good,” and made a
serious but abortive effort to found a colony. Freydis, daughter of Eric
the Red, visited New England in 1010 to 1012. Vague accounts in the
Icelandic chronicles tell of a visit of one Are Marson to a region called
White Man’s Land (Hvitrammanaland) in 983, ante-dating Eric’s appearance
in Greenland. We also hear of Biörn Asbrandson in 999, and of the voyage
of Gudlaugson in 1027. Certain geographical fragments refer to Bishop
Eric, of Greenland, as searching for Wineland in 1121, while in 1357 a
small Icelandic ship visited “Markland,” the present Nova Scotia. The
voyages of Asbrandson and of Gudlaugson are generally viewed as standing
connected with a region extending from New England to Florida, known as
White Man’s Land, or Ireland the Great. In these accounts there is found
no definite allusion to the region of the Hudson, though Karlsefne’s
explorations may have extended some distance southwesterly from Rhode
Island; while later adventurers, who came southward and followed the
course of Are Marson, who was discovered in the country by Asbrandson,
must have sailed along our shores. Still no record of such a visit now
remains, which is not at all singular, since many a voyager went by, both
before and afterwards, with the same failure to signalize the event for
the information of posterity. “They had no poet and they died.”
Turning to the voyages of the Welsh, who, some think, reached the western
continent about the year 1170, led by Madoc, Prince of Wales, there is
the same failure to connect them with this region. Catlin, who visited
the White or Mandan Indians, supposes that the Welch sailed down the
coast to the Bay of Mexico and ascended the Mississippi; although there
is just as much reason to hold, if the Mandans were their descendants,
that they entered the continent and found their way westward from the
region of Massachusetts or New York. The latter, however, might be
favored, for the reason that our noble river forms to-day the most
popular and certainly the most splendid gateway to the far West.
The voyages of the Zeno brothers, who are believed by most competent
critics to have reached America about the close of the fourteenth
century, and who left a chart, first published in 1558, show a country
called “Drogeo,” a vast region which stretched far to the south, whose
inhabitants were clothed in skins, and subsisted by hunting, being armed
with bows and arrows, and living in a state of war. The description
would apply to our part of the coast. At this period the Red Indians had
come from the west, and dispersed the original inhabitants, known to the
Northmen as Skraellings. The red man on this coast was an invader and
conqueror, not the original proprietor of the land. In a very brief time,
however, he forgot his own traditions and indulged in the belief that
he was the first holder of this region, which was deeded to him by the
Great Father in fee simple; and it was in this belief that, in turn,
the simple savage conveyed vast tracts of territory to the white man, in
consideration of trinkets and fire-water.
[Illustration: SEBASTIAN CABOT.]
So far as can be discovered, the Skraelling was the first proprietor,
and by the Skraelling is meant what is called the “Glacial Man,” who
appeared on this coast when the great ice-sheet that once covered the
highlands of America was melting and sliding into the sea. The evidences
of the so-called glacial man are found at the present time in the gravels
of the Trenton River, of New Jersey, consisting of stone implements
that seem to have been lost while engaged in hunting and fishing. With
the disappearance of the ice and the moderation of the climate, these
men of the ice-period spread along the Atlantic coast from Labrador to
Florida, their descendants being the modern Eskimo and Greenlander, whose
ancestors were driven northward by the red man when he conquered the
country. The immediate region of the Hudson has thus far afforded none
of the stone implements that abound at Trenton yet it may be regarded
as beyond question that the first inhabitant of New York was a glacial
man, ruder than the rudest red savage, and in appearance resembling the
present Eskimo.
[Illustration: VERRAZANO.]
We turn, however, to note what, in this immediate connection, may be
styled the course of maritime enterprise, the first voyage of interest
in connection with our subject being the voyage said to have been made
by Sebastian Cabot along the coast from Newfoundland in 1515. Upon this
initial voyage many Englishmen based their claim, but in the present
state of knowledge the expedition itself is considered debatable by
some. That John Sebastian Cabot saw the continent in 1498, or one year
before Columbus saw South America, can hardly be doubted; but convincing
testimony is required respecting the alleged voyage down this part of the
coast in 1515. If we accept the voyage as a fact, this expedition, whose
objective point was Newfoundland, may be regarded as the first known
English expedition to these shores.
Before this time, however, the Portuguese were very active, and had run
the coast from Florida to Cape Breton, evidence of which they left in the
“Cantino” Map, and in the Ptolemy of 1513. This was in continuation of
the enterprise of the Costas, or “Cortereals,” who made voyages to the
north in 1500-1-2. The expedition made a long our coast at this period
left no memorials now known, save the maps to which allusion has been
made. As early as 1520 the Spaniards began to navigate to the north from
the West Indies, and in that year Ayllon reached the coast of Carolina,
on an expedition to capture slaves, though Martyr speaks of the country
he visited as “near the Baccaloos,” a term applied at that time to the
region far south of Newfoundland. Nevertheless, in the year 1524, we
reach a voyage of deep interest, for in this year the Bay of New York
comes distinctly into view, Europeans being known for the first time to
pass the Narrows. Reference is here made to the voyage of the celebrated
Italian, Giovanni da Verrazano, in the service of Francis I. of France.
This celebrated navigator is supposed to have been the son of Piero
Andrea di Bernardo de Verrazano and Fiametta Capella. He was born at
Val di Greve, a little village near Florence, in the year 1485. At one
time a portrait of Verrazano adorned the walls of a gallery in Florence.
This portrait[3] was engraved for the well-known work entitled, “Uomini
Illustri Toscani.” A medal was also struck in his honor, but no copy
of it can now be found. The family, nevertheless, appears to have
maintained a definite place in local history, the last known Florentine
representative being the Cavaliere Andrea da Verrazano, who died in 1819.
Verrazano, the great explorer of the American coast, seems to have had a
large experience as a sailor upon the Mediterranean, eventually entering
the service of Francis I. of France, as a privateer or corsair, in which
calling Columbus and many of the old navigators shone conspicuously, the
profession at that time being quite creditable, even though dangerous. In
1523 Verrazano was engaged in capturing Spanish ships that brought the
treasures of Montezuma from Mexico. In the following year he made his
voyage to America, and one statement makes it appear that, subsequently,
he was captured by the Spaniards and executed. Ramusio tells us that on
a second voyage he was made a prisoner by the savages, and was roasted
and eaten in the sight of his comrades. The light which we have at the
present time does not suffice for the settlement of the question relating
to the manner of his death, but we have overwhelming evidence of the
reality of his voyage in 1524, which is vouched for by invaluable maps
and relations contained in a lengthy letter addressed to his employer,
Francis I.
This letter is of unique interest, especially for the reason that it
contains the first known post-Columbian description of the North Atlantic
coast, and the first pen-picture of the Bay and Harbor of New York. In
connection with our local annals Giovanni da Verrazano must hold a high
place. As might be supposed, the narrative of Verrazano has exerted a
commanding influence upon historical literature. For more than three
centuries it has furnished quotations. This fact has not prevented one or
two occasional writers from questioning the authenticity of the Letter
of Verrazano, though the discussion which followed simply resulted in
the production of additional proof, especially that found in two maps
previously unknown, establishing the authenticity of both voyage and
letter, and taking the subject from the field of controversy.
[Illustration: VESPUCIUS.]
The voyage of Verrazano was projected in 1523. On April 25th of that
year, Silveira, the Portuguese embassador at the Court of Francis I.,
wrote to his master: “By what I hear, Maestro Joas Verrazano, who is
going on the discovery of Cathay, has not left up to date for want of
opportunity, and because of differences, I understand, between himself
and his men.... I shall continue to doubt unless he takes his departure.”
It appears that he first went to sea with four ships, but met a severe
gale and was obliged to return to port, apparently with the loss of two
ships. After making repairs, he sailed for the Spanish coast alone in the
Dolphin, the captain of the remaining ship leaving Verrazano, and giving
color to the story of Silveira, that he had quarreled with his men. In
the Carli correspondence, there is a reference to one Brunelleschi, “who
went with him and unfortunately turned back.”
On January 17, 1524 (old style), Verrazano finally sailed from a barren
rocky island, southeast of Madeira, though Carli erroneously says that he
departed from the Canaries. The discrepancy is useful, in that it proves
an absence of collusion between writers in framing a fictitious voyage.
Steering westward until February 14th, he met a severe hurricane, and
then veered more to the north, holding the middle course, as he feared
to sail southward, by the accustomed route to the West Indies, less he
should fall into the hands of the Spaniards,[4] who with the Portuguese,
claimed the entire New World, in accordance with the decree of Pope
Alexander. Hence the navigator, to avoid the Spanish cruisers, held his
course westward in sunshine and storm, until the shores of the American
continent appeared above the waves. March 7th he saw land which “never
before had been seen by any one either in ancient or modern times,” a
statement that he was lead into by the desire to claim something for
France. He knew that his statement could not be exactly true, because,
like all the navigators of his day, he was familiar with the Ptolemy of
1513, containing a rude map of the coast from Florida to 55° N. Evidently
he did not attach any value to the explorations of the Portuguese
as represented by the maps, and hence, after sighting land in the
neighborhood of 34° N., he sailed southward fifty leagues to make sure
of connecting with the actual exploration of the Portuguese, and then
began coasting northward in search of a route through the land to Cathay.
Columbus died in 1508, believing that he had reached Cathay, but in the
day of Verrazano it was understood by many that the land found formed a
new continent, though this was not everywhere accepted until the middle
of the sixteenth century.
[Illustration: CARTIER.]
Navigating northward, Verrazano reached the neighborhood of the present
site of Charlestown, South Carolina, describing the country substantially
as it appears to-day, bordered with low sand-hills, the sea making
inlets, while beyond were beautiful fields, broad plains, and vast
forests. On landing they found the natives timid, but by friendly signs
the savages became assured, and freely approached the French followers
of Verrazano, wondering at their dress and complexion, just as, in 1584,
Barlow, in the same locality, said that the natives wondered “at the
whiteness of our skins.” The descriptions of Verrazano were so faithful
that Barlow, though without credit, employed his language, especially
when he says, speaking of the forests before reaching the land, “We
smelt so sweet and strong a smell as if we had been in the midst of
some delicate garden.” As Verrazano held northward, his descriptions
continued to exhibit the same fidelity, being used by Barlow and
confirmed by Father White. They were also confirmed by Dermer, who ran
the coast in 1619, finding the shores low, without stones, sandy, and,
for the most part, harborless. When near Chesapeake Bay, Verrazano found
that the people made their canoes of logs, as described by Barlow and
Father White. The grapes-vines were also seen trailing from the trees, as
indicated by these writers; and, speaking of the fruit, Verrazano says
that it was “very sweet and pleasant.” This language, being used early
in the season, led to the rather thoughtless objection that Verrazano
never made the voyage. The simple explanation is that the natives were
accustomed to preserving fruits by drying them; and hence Hudson, in
1609, found dried “currants,” which were sweet and good, meaning by
the word, “currant” what all meant at that period, namely, a dried
grape. The letter of Verrazano contains exaggerations, like all similar
productions. Cortez made Montezuma drink wine from cellars in a country
where both wine and cellars were unknown. Cartier caused figs to grow in
Canada, and Eric the Red called the ice-clad hills of the land west of
Iceland, “Greenland.” Verrazano, however, falls into none of these flat
contradictions, and often the objection to the authenticity of the voyage
has grown out of the ignorance of the critic of very common things.
Leaving Delaware Bay, Verrazano coasted northward, sailing by day
and coming to anchor at night, finally reaching the Bay of New York,
which forms the culmination of the interest of the voyage, so far as
our present purpose is concerned. After proceeding a distance roughly
estimated, on the decimal system, at a hundred leagues, he says: “We
found a very pleasant situation among some little steep hills, through
which a very large river (grandissima riviera), deep at its mouth, forced
its way to the sea,” and he adds: “From the sea to the estuary of the
river any ship might pass, with the help of the tide, which rises eight
feet.” This is about the average rise at the present time, and the fact
is one that could have been learned only from actual observation. It
points to the “bar” as then existing, and gives the narrative every
appearance of reality. Many things observed were noted in what Verrazano
calls a “little book,” and evidently it was from data contained in this
book that his brother compiled the map which illustrates the voyage.
Verrazano, however, was cautious, as he possessed only one ship, and he
says: “As we were riding at anchor in a good berth we would not venture
up in our ship without a knowledge of the mouth; therefore,” he says,
“we took the boat and entering the river, we found the country on its
banks well-peopled, the inhabitants not differing much from the others,
being dressed out with feathers of birds of various colors.” The natives,
by their action, showed that their faith in human nature had not been
spoiled by men leading expeditions like those of Ayllon in 1521, to the
Carolinas for slaves. They were still a simple and unaffected people, not
spoiled by European contact, as in the time of Hudson, and accordingly,
unlike the sly people met where Ayllon’s kidnappers had done their work,
“they came towards us with evident admiration, and showing us where we
could most securely land with our boat.” Continuing, the narrative says:
“We passed up this river about half a league, when we found it formed a
most beautiful lake, three leagues in circuit, upon which were rowing
thirty or more of their small boats from one shore to the other, filled
with multitudes who came to see us.” This “beautiful lake” (bellissimo
lago) was, so far as one is able to judge, the Bay of New York.
Verrazano passed the bar and anchored at the entrance of the Narrows, the
position being defined as between “little steep hills” (infra piccoli
colli eminenti), which exactly describes the heights of Staten Island,
and the shore of Long Island as far up as Yellow Hook, the present
Bay Ridge. Then far and wide the spacious harbor was surrounded by
well-wooded shores, upon which Verrazano and his followers, evidently the
first of Europeans to enter the port, gazed with admiration. It would
appear that they did not cross the harbor, but they probably espied in
the distance the island upon which our city now stands, clothed in the
dusky brown, touched only here and there with patches of the evergreen
pine. Nothing is said of the beauty of the foliage in this region,
since in March none could have been apparent, though the population was
evidently numerous, and from the shores the smoke of many wigwams was
seen by day, with the distant illuminations that filled the eye of the
sailor by night. Verrazano little dreamed of the value of the situation.
It never occurred to him that on this “beautiful lake” would one day
stand a city which in wealth and importance would eclipse the far-famed
city of Montezuma. The situation was pleasing, but it did not offer what
Verrazano sought, namely, an opening to India. He learned that he was at
the mouth of a swift river that poured out a powerful tide from between
the hills, and he saw the unreasonableness of continuing his search at
this place. What conclusion he might have reached eventually, had his
stay been prolonged, we cannot predict, but he was soon hurried away. He
says: “All of a sudden, as it is wont to happen to navigators, a violent
contrary wind blew in from the sea and forced us to return to our ship,
greatly regretting to leave this region, which seemed so commodious and
delightful, and which we supposed must contain great riches, as the hills
showed many indications of minerals.” By a glance at the chart it will
be seen that the ship lay in a position in the lower bay perilous for a
stranger, and in case of a gale she would be in danger of being driven
upon the shore of either Long Island or Staten Island. Verrazano would
not take his ship through the Narrows into the harbor, on account of
his ignorance of the situation, and when the wind set upon shore from
the sea he at once decided to get out of danger. Accordingly he says:
“Weighing anchor we sailed fifty leagues towards the east, the coast
stretching in that direction, and always in sight of it.” Thus he coasted
along the shores of Long Island, and “discovered an island in triangular
form, some ten leagues from the main land, in size about equal to the
Island of Rhodes.” This was Block Island, and we mention the circumstance
here, in order that the reader may appreciate the fact that Verrazano
first visited New York, and that he properly describes the coast. Block
Island is distinctly a triangular island. Then he went to a harbor in the
main, identified as Newport Harbor.[5] The natives who appeared in the
harbor, it will be noticed, had some thirty small boats (barchettes).
The word itself does not indicate the manner of their construction, but,
when at Newport, Verrazano says distinctly, that these barchettes were
hollowed out of single logs of wood (un sole fusto di legno). The Dutch
found the natives using the same kind of boats here in the early days,
though the bark canoe was also employed. The objections urged against the
authenticity of the voyage of Verrazano have simply resulted in fresh
investigation and the production of proofs that establish beyond question
the truth of the narrative, which is supplemented by a long series of
maps. The series begin with the map of Verrazano, drawn in the year 1529,
by Hieronimo da Verrazano, brother of the navigator, and the Maijolla
map, which also represents the voyage, giving particulars not given in
the narrative of Verrazano. The map of Verrazano is now preserved in the
museum of the “Propaganda Fide” at Rome,[6] and forms a wonderful advance
upon the Ptolemy of 1513, which, after passing Florida, is vague and,
upon the whole, quite useless as respects our present purpose, since it
shows no knowledge of the Bay and Harbor of New York, and calls for no
particular notice here.
It has already been observed that much of that which is wanting in the
Letter is furnished by the map of Verrazano, noticeably the Shoals of
Cape Cod. The map was constructed by the aid of the “little book,” in
which, as Verrazano told Francis I., there were many particulars of the
voyage, and it forms the best sixteenth century map of the coast now
known to be extant in the original form. After Verrazano the delineation
of the coast, as a whole, gradually, in the neglect of cartography,
became more and more corrupt, culminating in the monstrous distortions of
Mercator.
On the map of Verrazano the Cape of Florida is most unmistakable, though
by an error in following Ptolemy, the draftsman placed the cape nine
degrees too high, thus vitiating the latitudes, also failing to eliminate
the error before reaching Cape Breton. This however, does not prevent
us from recognizing the leading points of the coast. At Cape “Olimpo”
we strike Cape Hatteras, and near “Santanna” is the mouth of Chesapeake
Bay. “Palamsina,” a corruption perhaps of Pallavicino, marks the entrance
to the Delaware. “Lamuetto,” possibly Bonivet after the general of that
name, distinguishes what apparently was intended for Sandy Hook; while
“San Germano” and “La Victoria” stand on the lower Bay of New York.
Verrazano did not know enough about the river of “the steep hills” to
enable him to give it a pronounced name, though in after times the
Hudson, as we shall see, was called “the river of the mountains.” It will
be readily recognized that San Germano is a name given out of compliment
to his patron by Verrazano, as it recalls the splendid palace of Francis
I., at St. Germaine-en-Lay. If circumstances had favored, the name of
Francis might have been affixed to a great French metropolis at the mouth
of the Hudson.
[Illustration: EXTRACT FROM THE VERRAZANO MAP