The influence of the Verrazano Map upon succeeding charts was most marked
down even to 1610, when all obscurity in regard to the position of the
Harbor of New York had passed away. The same is true of the exhibition of
the relation of New York Bay to Rhode Island and the Island of Luisa. The
influence of Verrazano upon the Globe of Vlpius, 1542, was most emphatic,
as will be noticed later; though it is to be remembered that Verrazano’s
voyage was pictured on the Map of Maijolla before the Verrazano Map was
drawn, notes from Verrazano, probably out of the “little book” that he
mentions, affording the requisite material. Verrazano evidently furnished
an abundance of names for localities, and the various draftsmen seemed
to have exercised their judgment to some extent respecting their use.
It would, however, prove wearisome to the reader to peruse any minute
statements of the contents of the many maps that indicate the Bay of
New York; since neither the authenticity nor the influence of the
voyage of Verrazano can now be questioned. In directions where it was
never suspected, the Letter of Verrazano to Francis I. had a decided
influence, as will be noted hereafter, though attention may again be
called to the fact that Barlow, in his voyage to North Carolina, 1584,
used the Letter without credit, according to the custom of the time;
while, when Gosnold visited New England, in 1602, he sailed, as tacitly
acknowledged, with the Letter of Verrazano, translated by Hakluyt as his
guide.
Next, however, the reader’s attention must be directed to the voyage
of Estevan Gomez, who followed Verrazano in 1525. This adventurer was
a Portuguese in the service of Spain. While Verrazano was abroad on
his voyage, Gomez attended the nautical congress at Badajos, in Spain,
when, we are told, Sebastian Cabot was present. At this congress
Portugal opposed the plan presented for an expedition to the Indies,
being very jealous, as usual, of the power of Spain. The differences
of the two powers were nevertheless reconciled, and the king of Spain,
with the aid of several merchants, fitted out a caravel and put Gomez
in command. Gomez, if he did not stand as high as some men of his time,
was a navigator of experience. In 1519 he sailed as chief pilot with
Magellan, but incurred much odium by leaving him in the Straits which
now bear Magellan’s name, and returning to Spain. Peter Martyr, who
gives an account of the congress at Badajos, says: “It is decreed that
one Stephanus Gomez, himself a skilful navigator, shall go another way,
whereby, between Baccalaos and Florida, long since our countries, he
says he will find out a way to Cataia. Only one ship, a caravel, is
furnished for him,” and, the chronicler continues, “he will have no
other thing in charge than to search out whether any passage to the
great Chan from among the various windings and vast compassing of this
our ocean is to be found.” Of the voyage out from Spain few particulars
are now available, though the account of the return was penned by Martyr
subsequently to November 13, 1525, and probably before the close of the
year. The voyage was, upon the whole, a short one. Martyr, however, says
that he returned at the end of “ten months,” while Navarrete states that
he sailed in February. Galvano tells us that, having failed to obtain the
command of an expedition to the Moluccas, he went on the coast of the
new world in search of a passage to India, observing that “the Earl Don
Fernando de Andrada, and the doctor Beltram, and the merchant Christopher
de Serro, furnished a galleon for him, and he went from Groine, in
Gallicia, to the Island of Cuba, and to the Cape of Florida, sailing by
day because he knew not the land.” Galvano tells us, likewise, that he
passed the Bay of Angra and the river Enseada, and so “went over to the
other side, reaching Cape Razo in 46° N.” This means that he sailed up
from Florida past the coast of Maine. Martyr, writing after the return of
Gomez, indulges in a strain of ridicule, and says: “He, neither finding
the Straight, nor Cataia, which he promised, returned back in ten months
after his departure;” and continues: “I always thought and supposed this
worthy man’s fancies to be vain and frivolous. Yet he wanted not for
suffrages and voices in his favor and defense.” Still, Martyr admits that
“he found pleasant and profitable countries agreeable with our parallels
and degrees of the pole.”
The results of the voyage along the coast from Florida to Newfoundland
are indicated on the Map of Ribeiro, 1529, which represents a new
exploration, as nothing seems to have been borrowed from either the
voyage of Verrazano or from the voyages made by the Portuguese, with the
exception that Ribeiro used old Portuguese maps of Newfoundland, which
was the case with Verrazano. We must, however, confine our observations
to things that relate to this immediate region, and notice what the
accompanying maps so fully exhibit, the difference of the delineation
of Sandy Hook and Long Island. On the Ribeiro Map Sandy Hook appears as
“Cabo de Arenas,” the Sandy Cape, exaggerated in size, while Long Island
is hardly distinguishable, as the coast line runs too close to the north.
It is indicated by the section of the coast between two rivers, “Montana
Vue,” evidently one of the hills of Long Island that the navigator now
views from the sea. On the Verrazano Map, the region of Sandy Hook is
“Lamuetto” and “Lungavilla,” while Long Island is indicated as a part of
the mainland, bearing the names of “Cabo de Olimpo” and “Angolesme,” the
bay of “San Germano” lying between. The delineations of Verrazano exhibit
his short stay and hasty departure, while the survey of Gomez must have
occupied more time, at least around Sandy Hook. That this map resulted
from the voyage of Gomez is evident from the legend, which calls the land
“Tierra de Estevan Gomez;” (the country of Stephen Gomez) while eastward,
where the coast of Maine is delineated, is the “Arcipelago” of Gomez.
On this Map of Ribeiro the lower Bay of New York is indicated by “E.
de S. Xpoal,” with several Islands. A river appears between this bay,
given in later documents as Bay of “St. Chrispstabel,” and Long Island,
but the name of the river is not given. “B. de S. Antonio,” however, is
given which indicates the upper bay or harbor, and subsequently we shall
see the river itself indicated as the river “San Antonio,” while the
place of Sandy Hook in the old cartography will be fully established and
identified with Cape de Arenas. Ribeiro evidently had pretty full notes
of the calculations and observations of Gomez.
[Illustration: FRA. DRAKE.]
As the reverential old navigators were often in the habit of marking
their progress in connection with prominent days in the Calendar, it is
reasonable to suppose that the Hudson was discovered by Gomez on the
festival of St. Anthony, which falls on January 17. Navarrete indeed
says that he left Spain in February, but the accounts are more or less
confusing. If Martyr, who is more particular, is correct, and Gomez was
absent “ten months,” he must have sailed early in December, which would
have brought him to our coast on the festival of the celebrated Theban
Father. At this time the navigator would have seen the country at its
worst. Evidently he made no extended exploration of the river, as in
January it is often loaded with ice and snow.
Gomez was laughed at by the courtiers, and had no disposition to return
to the American coast. The legend on the Map of Ribeiro proclaiming
his discovery, that is, exploration of the coast, declared that here
were to be found “many trees and fruits similar to those in Spain,” but
Martyr contemptuously exclaims, “What need have we of these things that
are common to all the people of Europe? To the South! to the South!”
he ejaculates, “for the great and exceeding riches of the Equinoxial,”
adding, “They that seek riches must not go to the cold and frozen
North.” Gems, spices, and gold were the things coveted by Spain, and our
temperate region, with its blustering winters, did not attract natures
accustomed to soft Andalusian air.
After the voyage of Gomez, which, failing to find a route to the Indies,
excited ridicule, there is nothing of special interest to emphasize in
this connection until 1537. In the meanwhile, the English were active,
and in 1527 two ships, commanded by Captain John Rut, were in American
waters. It has been claimed that he sailed the entire coast, often
sending men on land “to search the state of these unknown regions,” and
it has been affirmed that this is “the first occasion of which we are
distinctly informed that Englishmen landed on the coast.” Also that,
“after Cabot, this was the second English expedition which sailed along
the entire east coast of the United States, as far as South Carolina.”
Granting, however, that the expedition of Rut actually extended down the
American coast, there is no proof that he gave any attention to the
locality of the Hudson.
[Illustration: A SECTION OF THE MAP OF ALONZO CHAVES.]
We turn now to the account of our particular locality, as given by Oviedo
in 1537, who wrote an account of the coast based largely upon the Map
of Alonzo Chaves. It appears that, in 1536, Charles V. ordered that the
official charts should “be examined and corrected by experienced men,
appointed for that purpose.” Acting under their instructions, Alonzo
Chaves drew up a chart, embodying the information that he had been able
to collect from maps and narratives. It is evident that he had notes of
the voyage of Gomez, and that he used the Ribeiro Map, but he had no
information about the voyage of Verrazano or that of Cartier in 1534.
His delineation of the coast began in the Bay of Mexico, and extended
to Newfoundland. Oviedo, in his “History of the Indies,” used this map,
and describes the coast by its aid. The Map of Chaves does not appear
to be accessible, but its American features have been reconstructed
from the descriptions of Oviedo, and this portion of the Map is given
herewith, the latitudes and distances being exactly preserved. From the
Cape of Florida, Oviedo moves northward in his descriptions, which are
distinctly recognizable. “Cabo de Sanct Johan” stands at the mouth of the
Chesapeake, and from this place “Cabo de los Arenas” is thirty leagues
to the north-northeast. The latter cape is 38° 20′ N. From “Arenas” the
coast runs thirty leagues to “Cabo de Santiago,” which is 39° 20′ N. On
this map Sandy Hook appears as Cape Santiago, but generally the name of
“Arenas,” the Sandy Cape, is affixed to the Hook[7]. Oviedo, on reaching
the end of Sandy Hook, proceeds to give an unmistakable delineation of
the Bay and Harbor of New York, and of the river which is now known
as the Hudson. “Thence,” continues Oviedo, with his eye on the Map of
Chaves, “the coast turns southwest twenty leagues to the Bay of Sanct
Christobal, which is in 39°, passes said bay, and goes thirty leagues
to Rio de Sanct Antonio, north and south with the bottom of this bay;
and the ‘Rio de Sanct Antonio’ is in 41° N.” Dr. Kohl says that “it is
impossible to give a more accurate description of the Hudson River,” but
this is not quite true. It was an excellent description for that period,
considering the material at hand; yet it must be remembered that all the
distances are given as general estimates on the decimal system. Besides,
the Map of Chaves, like all the maps, was drawn on a small scale, and
Sandy Hook and the Lower Bay are both exaggerated, as on the Map of
Ribeiro, which will be seen by a comparison of the two maps, placed
side by side to facilitate investigation. Both Ribeiro and Chaves had
erroneous measurements of distances, and made the Lower Bay quite a large
gulf, while the latitude of “Rio Sanct Antonio” is placed one degree too
high. Ribeiro, however, gave the Hook its right name, “Arenas.”[8] The
size of the Hook is exaggerated on the Maijolla Map, 1527, though not on
the Verrazano, 1529. These things show free-hand drawing on the part of
the mapmakers, and defective rule-of-thumb measurements by the navigator,
who probably viewed the waters behind the Hook when veiled in mist,
failing to test his own estimates.
Oviedo says that “from the Rio de Sanct Antonio the coast runs northeast
one-fourth east forty leagues to a point (punta), that on the western
side it has a river called the Buena Madre, and on the eastern part, in
front of (de lante) the point, is the Bay of Sanct Johan Baptista, which
point (punta) is 41° 30′ N.”; or, rather, correcting the error of one
degree, in 40° 30′ N. This point is Montauk Point, Long Island being
taken as a part of the main. The Thames River in Connecticut answers to
the River of the Good Mother, and the Bay of John Baptist is evidently
the Narragansett. Oviedo then goes on to the region of Cape Cod, varying
from the general usage, and calling it “Arrecifes,” or the Reef Cape,
instead of “Cabe de Baxos,” which signifies substantially the same thing.
Under the circumstances, the description of Long Island is remarkably
exact, as its shore trends northward almost exactly half a degree in
running to Montauk Point. What, therefore, lies on either side of the
River San Antonio fixes beyond question the locality of the Hudson, and
proves that it was clearly known from the time of Gomez to 1537.
The next navigator whose work touched our part of the coast was Jehan or
Jean Allefonsce, who, in 1542, came to Canada as pilot of Roberval, and
gained considerable knowledge of the North Atlantic shores. This hardy
sailor was a native of Saintonge, a village of Cognac, France. After
following the sea for a period of more than forty years, and escaping
many dangers, he finally received a mortal wound while engaged in a naval
battle in the harbor of Rochelle. Melin Saint-Gelais wrote a sonnet in
his honor during the year 1559. It can hardly be doubted that Allefonsce
himself ran down the coast in one of the ships of Roberval, probably when
returning to France.
With the aid of Paulin Secalart he wrote a cosmographical description,
which included Canada and the West Indies, with the American coast.
Very recognizable descriptions are given as far down as Cape Cod and
the islands to the southward. The manuscript also possesses interest
in connection with the region of the Hudson, though farther south the
description becomes still more available.
Allefonsce after disposing of the region of New England, turns southward,
and says: “From the Norombega River,” that is, the Penobscot, “the coast
runs west-southwest about two hundred and fifty leagues to a large bay
(anse) running inland about twenty leagues, and about twenty-nine
leagues wide. In this bay there are four islands close together. The
entrance to the bay is by 38° N., and the said islands lie in 39° 30′ N.
The source of this bay has not been explored, and I do not know whether
it extends further on.... The whole coast is thickly populated, but I had
no intercourse with them.” Continuing, he says: “From this bay the coast
runs west-northwest about forty-six leagues. Here you come upon a great
fresh-water river, and at its entrance is a sand island.” What is more,
he adds: “Said island is 39° 49′ N.”
From the description of Allefonsce, it is evident that the “great
fresh-water river” is the Hudson, described five years before by Oviedo,
out of the Map of Chaves, as the River of St. Anthony, while the “island
of sand” was Sandy Hook.[9]
Turning from the manuscript of Allefonsce to the printed cosmography, we
discover that the latter is only an abridgement, it being simply said
that after leaving Norombega, the coast turns to the south-southeast to a
cape which is high land (Cape Cod), and has a great island and three or
four small isles. New York and the entire coast south have no mention.
The manuscript, however, suffices for our purpose and proves that the
coast was well known.
It has been already stated that it would be impossible to say when the
first Englishman visited this region; yet in the year 1567-8, evidence
goes to prove that one David Ingram, an Englishman, set ashore with a
number of companions in the Bay of Mexico, journeyed on foot across the
country to the river St. John, New Brunswick, and sailed thence for
France. Possibly he was half crazed by his sufferings, yet there can
be little doubt that he crossed the continent and passed through the
State of New York, traveling on the Indian paths and crossing many broad
rivers. If the story is true, Ingram is the first Englishman known to
have visited these parts.
In April, 1583, Captain Carline wrote out propositions for a voyage “to
the latitude of fortie degrees or thereabouts, of that hithermost part
of America,” and, in 1583, Sir Humphrey Gilbert had this region under
consideration, Hakluyt observing on the margin of his “Divers Voyages”
that this was “the Countrey of Sir H. G. Uoyage.” Hays says in his
account of the region, that “God hath reserved the same to be reduced
unto Christian civility by the English nation” and, also that “God
would raise him up an instrument to effect the same.” All this is very
interesting in connection with English claims and enterprise. In the same
year the French were active on the coast, and one Stephen Bellinger,
of Rouen, sailed to Cape Breton, and thence coasted southwesterly six
hundred miles “and had trafique with the people in tenne or twelve
places.” Thus the French were moving from both the north and the south
towards this central region; but we cannot say how far south Bellinger
actually came, as there is nothing to indicate his mode of computation.
It is not improbable that he knew and profited by the rich fur-trade of
the Hudson.
In 1598 and there about, we find it asserted that the Dutch were upon
the ground, for, in the year 1644, the Committee of the Dutch West
India Company, known as the General Board of Accounts, to whom numerous
documents and papers have been intrusted, made a lengthy report, which
they begin as follows: “New Netherland, situated in America, between
English Virginia and New England, extending from the South [Delaware]
river, lying in 34½ degrees to Cape Malabat, in the latitude of 41½
degrees, was first frequented by the inhabitants of this country in the
year 1598, and especially by those of the Greenland Company, but without
making any fixed settlements, only as a shelter in winter. For which
they built on the North [Hudson] and the South [Delaware] rivers there
two little forts against the attacks of the Indians.” Mr. Brodhead says
that the statement “needs confirmation.” Still it is somewhat easy to
understand why a statement of this kind coming from such a body should
require confirmation; but the Committee had no reason for misstating the
facts, and ought to have been accurately informed. Yet if confirmation is
insisted upon, we are prepared to give it, such as it is, from an English
and, in fact, an unexpected source. Our authority is no less a personage
than Governor Bradford, of Plymouth Colony, whose office and inclinations
led him to challenge all unfounded claims that might be put forth by the
Dutch. Nevertheless, writing to Sir Ferdinando Gorges, the father of New
England colonization, who likewise was hostile to the pretensions of the
Dutch, Bradford says, under date of June 15, 1627, that the Dutch on
the Hudson “have used trading there this six-or-seven-and-twenty years,
but have begun to plant of later time, and now have reduced their trade
to some order.” Bradford lived in Holland in 1608, and had abundant
opportunities for knowing everything relating to Dutch enterprise. It
is perfectly well known that the Plymouth Colonists of 1620 intended to
settle at the Hudson, though circumstances directed them to the spot
pointed out by Dermer in 1619, when in the service of Gorges. Thus,
about seventeen years before the Committee of 1644 reported, Governor
Bradford, an unwilling, but every way competent and candid witness,
carried back the Dutch occupancy, under the Greenland Company, to the
year 1600. Besides, on the English map of the voyage of Linschoten,
1598, there is a dotted trail from the latitude of the Hudson, 40° N. to
the St. Lawrence, showing that the route was one known and traveled at
that time. It is evident, from a variety of considerations, that both
the Dutch and French resorted to the Hudson at this period to engage in
the trade. Linschoten was one of the best informed of Dutch writers,
and probably understood the significance of the representation upon his
map. The probability is that this route was known a long time before,
and that it may be indicated by Cartier, who, when in Canada, 1534, was
told of a route by the way of the river Richelieu, to a country a month’s
distance southward, supposed to produce cinnamon and cloves, which
Cartier thought the route to Florida. Champlain, writing in Canada, says
that, in the year previous, certain French who lived on the Hudson were
taken prisoners when out on an expedition against the northern Indians,
and were liberated, on the ground that they were friends of the French
in Canada. This agrees with the report of the Labadists, who taught that
a French child, Jean Vigné, was born here in 1614. Evidently the French
had been on the ground in force for some years, and were able to make
expeditions against the savages. Very likely the French were here quite
as early as the Hollanders.
There seems to be, however, another curious piece of confirmation, which
comes from the writings of the celebrated Father Isaac Jogues, who was in
New Amsterdam during the year 1646. In a letter written on August 3d of
that year, he says that the Dutch were here, “about fifty years” before,
while they began to settle permanently only about “twenty years” since.
The latter statement is sufficiently correct, as 1623 was the year when
a permanent colony was established by the Dutch. The former statement
carries us back to the date of the “Greenland Company.”
So far as present evidence goes, it is perhaps unnecessary to say
anything more in vindication of the statement of the Dutch Committee of
1644, claiming that representatives of the Greenland Company wintered
here in 1598. Nevertheless, as a matter of interest, and to show how
well the Hudson was known at this time by both Dutch and English, we may
quote from the English translation of the Dutch narrative of Linschoten,
which clearly describes the coast. He says: “There is a countrey under 44
degrees and a halfe, called Baccalaos.” This country of Baccalaos reached
nine hundred miles, that is, from the Cape de Baccalaos [Cape Race] to
Florida.
The distances are given approximately, of course, by Linschoten, being on
the decimal system, but they distinctly mark the principal divisions of
the coast and fix the fact beyond question that the Hudson was perfectly
well known.
On the general subject it may be said, that the record of the “Greenland
Company” is not satisfactory, yet the word “Greenland” at that time had a
very general use, and all that the Committee of Accounts may have meant
by the phrase was, that a company or association engaged in the fur and
fish trade, which for centuries, even, had been prosecuted at the north,
had sent some ships to this region in 1598. There is certainly nothing
unreasonable in this supposition, the coast being so well known. Various
adventurers of whom we know nothing doubtless came and went unobserved,
being in no haste to publish the source from which they derived such a
profitable trade in peltries. The Committee of Accounts either falsified
deliberately or followed some old tradition. Why may not a tradition be
true?
We turn next to examine a map recently brought to notice and which is
of unique value. Formerly the map usually pointed out as the oldest
seventeenth century map of this region was the Dutch “Figurative” Map,
which was found by Mr. Brodhead in the Dutch archives. We have now,
however, an earlier map of 1610, which was prepared from English data
for James I., a copy finding its way to Philip III., by Velasco, March
22, 1611. Sandy Hook, though without name, is delineated about as it
appears in later maps, while Long Island is shown as a part of the main,
with no indication of the Sound, though Cape Cod and the neighboring
islands are well delineated, and Verrazano’s Island of “Luisa” appears as
“Cla[u]dia,” the mother of Francis I. Clearly at this time neither Block
nor any other Dutch navigator had passed through Hell Gate into Long
Island Sound.
There is nothing whatever in this map relating to explorations by any
nation later than 1607. Jamestown appears on the Virginia portion, and
Sagadehoc in Maine. It was simply a copy of a map made soon after the
voyage to New England and Virginia in 1607. The compiler had not heard of
Hudson’s voyage, as that navigator did not reach England until November
7, 1609. If he had received any information from Hudson, he would have
shown the river terminating in a shallow, innavigable brook, whereas the
river is indicated, in accordance with Captain John Smith’s idea, as a
strait, leading to a large body of water. Further, the map contradicts
Hudson, who represents the Hoboken side of the river as “Manhatta,”
while this map puts the name on both sides, “Manahata,” on the west and
“Manahatin” on the east. It is not unlikely that Hudson had with him a
copy of the map, for his guidance on the voyage in the Half-Moon.
[Illustration: SIR WALTER RALEIGH.]
Though this map bears a date subsequent to Hudson’s voyage, the contents
prove that the original could not have been drawn later than 1608. It
was evidently one of the various maps of which Smith spoke and which
he underrated. Its substance indicates that it was drawn from a source
independent of the Dutch and French, showing that the English knew
of the Bay of New York and its relation to Sandy Hook, and that they
supposed the great river delineated was a broad stream which, in someway,
communicated with the Pacific. On the original map of which Velasco’s
example was a copy, the land west of the river was colored blue, and the
legend says that it is described by information drawn from the Indians.
What we need now is the original map, which may still exist in some
obscure collection in England or Holland, and quite as likely in the
archives of Spain, sent thither by jealous Spanish spies, who lingered,
like Velasco, at the court of James I., to learn what they could with
respect to English enterprise in America. At all events we have in this
English map the first seventeenth century delineation of this region,
and one showing that the English knew the form and general character of
the country which the crown conveyed to the colonists of North and South
Virginia in 1606. So far as now known, it was clearly the English who
first became acquainted with the name that the Aborigines applied to the
island upon which our great metropolitan city stands. Whether or not
this was an aboriginal word or a corruption of a Castilian term future
investigators may decide. The unexpected finding of this old English
map in the Spanish archives revives our hopes relating to the discovery
of new sources of information concerning early voyages to this coast.
English enterprise and adventure on the Virginia coast, extending from
Raleigh’s expedition, 1584, to Gosnold’s fatal quest, 1603, must have
brought Englishmen into the Bay of New York, unless miracle was balanced
against curiosity and chance. There are archives yet to be opened that
may give the origin of the delineations of this region found in the
remarkable map from Samancas, and we need to be cautious in making claims
even for the priority of the Dutch in 1598.
The period under consideration was a period of reconnoissance, one
that offered some romantic incident, but more of disappointment and
mortification. Here was a site for one of the noblest cities in the
world, but the voyager was blind. The river offered no route to the
gorgeous Indies, and Verrazano had little inclination to test its swift
tide. Gomez, in the short January days of 1525, had no desire to ascend,
for when his ship met the drift ice tossing on the cold, swirling stream,
he thought of Anthony in his desolate retreat on the Red Sea, put the
river under his charge, and sailed away in search of happier shores.
Sailors of other nationalities, doubtless, ascended the river; but,
finding it simply a river, they took what peltries they could get, and,
like Gomez, turned the whole region over to the care of the solitary
Saint, who for nearly a century stood connected with its neglect.
Much remained to be done before steps could be taken with regard to
colonization. The initial work, however, was inaugurated by the sturdy
Englishman, Henry Hudson, and the proud Spanish caravel disappears, while
the curtain rises upon the memorable voyage of the quaint Dutch fly-boat,
the Half-Moon.