The earliest mention of these transatlantic voyages that we now find

occurs in a discourse attributed to a great French captain of Dieppe,

preserved in an Italian translation by Ramusio, in his collection

of voyages.[38] This discourse gives a summary description of the

new countries, and a very brief mention of their discoverers. From

internal evidence it appears to have been written in 1539. Ramusio, in

introducing it, expresses his regret that he could not ascertain the

name of its author. M. Louis Estancelin published in 1832 a journal

of the voyage made by Jean Parmentier to Sumatra in 1529, which

corresponds so exactly with the details of a similar voyage in the

great captain’s discourse as to make it evident that Parmentier was

the person described by Ramusio under that title.[39] This discourse

mentions the voyages of Denys and Aubert, and speaks of Verrazano

as the discoverer of Norumbega. From this source other writers have

generally drawn their authority for these early voyages. The Chronicle

of Eusebius,[40] however, contains an account of the visit of American

savages to Rouen in 1509; and there is a curious bas-relief over a

tomb in the Church of St. Jacques at Dieppe, in which American natives

are represented.[41] Charlevoix speaks of the map which Jean Denys is

said to have made.[42]

The authorities for the voyage of Verrazano are two copies of his

letter, written to the King of France from Dieppe July 8, 1524, on

his return from the voyage. Both of these are, however, Italian

translations of the letter, the original of which does not exist. One

was printed by Ramusio in 1556, in the third volume of his collection

of voyages.[43] The other was found many years later in the Strozzi

Library (the historical documents in which were afterward transferred

to the Magliabechian, now merged in the National Library) in Florence,

and was first published in 1841 by the New York Historical Society,

with a translation made by Dr. J. G. Cogswell.[44] This contained a

Cosmographical Appendix not in the copy printed by Ramusio. The earlier

printed version was translated into English by Hakluyt for his _Divers

Voyages_, which appeared in London in 1582, and was incorporated by

him into his larger collection published in 1600.[45] Dr. Cogswell’s

translation was reprinted in London by Dr. Asher in his _Henry Hudson

the Navigator_, prepared for the Hakluyt Society in 1860.[46] Dr. Asher

considers the Cosmographical Appendix a document of great importance.

With this Strozzi copy there was found a letter written by one Fernando

Carli from Lyons, Aug. 4, 1524, to his father in Florence, accounting

for sending Verrazano’s letter, which Carli thought would interest

his countrymen. This letter of Carli was first printed in 1844, with

the essay of George W. Greene on Verrazano, in the _Saggiatore_ (i.

257), a Roman journal of history and philology. Professor Greene, who

was the American Consul at Rome, had been instrumental in obtaining

the Verrazano letter for the New York Society, and had previously

published his essay in the _North American Review_ for October, 1837.

He reprinted it in his _Historical Studies_. Carli’s letter may be

consulted in English translations in Mr. Smith’s, Mr. Murphy’s, and Mr.

Brevoort’s essays on Verrazano.

References to the voyage occur occasionally in French, English, and

Spanish authors;[47] and it was not until within a few years that any

doubt was thrown upon the authenticity of the narrative.

In October, 1864, Mr. Buckingham Smith, an accomplished scholar,

who had been secretary of the American Legation at Madrid, read a

paper upon this subject before the New York Historical Society,

afterward published the same year under the title, _An Inquiry into

the Authenticity of Documents concerning a Discovery in North America

claimed to have been made by Verrazzano_. Mr. Smith’s death interrupted

an enlarged and revised edition of this essay, which he was urged to

prepare.[48] Mr. J. Carson Brevoort presented a paper on Verrazano,

taking an opposite view, to the American Geographical Society, in

1871, which he printed three years later, entitled _Verrazano the

Navigator_.[49] This was followed by the appearance, in 1875, of

Mr. Henry C. Murphy’s _The Voyage of Verrazzano_, in which he makes

an able plea against the genuineness of the accounts of the voyage.

This book caused considerable discussion, and has been answered

several times. It remains, I think, the last word on that side of the

question,—except that Mr. Bancroft has omitted all notice of Verrazano

in the revised edition of his _History of the United States_, and the

editors of Appleton’s _American Cyclopædia_ seem to adopt Mr. Murphy’s

conclusions. Mr. Murphy’s book was reviewed by Harrisse in the _Revue

critique_ for Jan. 1, 1876, and his conclusions were accepted with

some reserve. It was noticed unfavorably by Mr. Major in the London

_Geographical Magazine_ (iii. 186) for July, 1876 (copied from the

_Pall Mall Gazette_ of May 26, 1876), and by the Rev. B. F. De Costa

in the _American Church Review_ of the same date. In 1878-1879 papers

on this subject by De Costa appeared in the _Magazine of American

History_, which were afterward collected and revised by their author,

and issued, with the title, _Verrazano the Explorer_, in 1881. This

work contains an exhaustive bibliography of the subject, to which

reference should be made.[50] In this same year, 1881, M. Cornelio

Desimoni, vice-president of the “Società Ligure di Storia Patria,”

printed in the fifteenth volume of the _Atti_ of that Society a second

_Studio_ on Verrazano, in which he takes strong ground in favor of

the genuineness of the voyage. This essay had been presented to the

third congress of “Américanistes,” which met at Brussels in 1879. M.

Desimoni had previously contributed to the _Archivio Storico Italiano_

for August, 1877, an article upon this navigator,[51] but was able to

review Mr. Murphy’s book only from notices he had seen of it. In a note

at the end of his paper he states that he had procured a copy, and, so

far from finding any reason to modify the views he had expressed, he

thought that he could find in Mr. Murphy’s essay additional arguments

for the authenticity of the voyage. The second _Studio_ was followed

by what M. Desimoni modestly calls a _Third Appendix_ (the _Studio_

having two Appendices printed with it). This is a paper of considerable

importance, as it contains the reproduction of the map of which I shall

speak later.[52]

Hieronimo da Verrazano, the brother of the navigator, made about 1529

a large _mappamundi_, on which the discoveries of Giovanni are laid

down.[53] This map is preserved in the Borgiano Museum of the College

“di Propaganda Fide” in Rome. It is not certain that the map is an

original; and it was first mentioned by Von Murr in his _Behaim_,

Gotha, 1801, p. 28, referring to a letter of Cardinal Borgia of Jan.

31, 1795, regarding it. It was again referred to in Millin’s _Magazin

encyclopédique_, vol. lxviii. (1807); but general attention was first

directed to it by M. Thomassy in 1852, in a communication published in

the _Nouvelles Annales des Voyages_.[54] Mr. Brevoort[55] has given

a description of it, which he prepared from two photographs, much

reduced in size, made for the American Geographical Society in 1871.

These photographs were not large enough nor sufficiently distinct to

allow the names of places on the American coast to be read. This North

American section of the map was first given with the names by Dr.

De Costa, who had made a careful examination of the original during

a visit to Rome, in the _Magazine of American History_ for August,

1878.[56]

This map is not dated; but the following legend, placed at the position

of Verrazano’s discoveries, fixes the date for 1529: “Verrazana

sive nova gallia quale discoprì 5 anni fa giovanni da verrazano

fiorentino per ordine e Comandamento del Cristianissimo Re di Francia”

(“Verrazana, or New Gaul, which was discovered five years ago by

Giovanni di Verrazano, of Florence, by the order and command of the

most Christian King of France”).

One of the most interesting of the maps which show the traces and

influence of Verrazano’s voyage is the copper globe known as the

globe of Ulpius, from its maker, Euphrosynus Ulpius, constructed (as

appears by an inscription on it) in 1542. This was found in Spain by

the late Buckingham Smith, and bought for the New York Historical

Society in 1859 by Mr. John D. Wolfe. Mr. Smith prepared a paper on

this globe, which was printed, with a map of the portion relating to

North America, in the _Historical Magazine_ in 1862.[57] Dr. De Costa

published, in the _Magazine of American History_ for January, 1879,

an excellent account of the globe of Ulpius, with a representation

of one hemisphere, which, he says, “without being a fac-simile, is

nevertheless sufficiently correct for historical purposes, and may

be relied upon.”[58] On this globe, between Florida and the “Regio

Baccalearum,” we find this inscription, covering a large extent of

territory: “Verrazana sive Nova Gallia a Verrazano Florentino comperta

anno Sal MD.” (“Verrazana, or New Gaul, discovered by Verrazano the

Florentine, in the year of Salvation MD.”). It will be observed that

the date has been left incomplete.

Other maps showing traces of Verrazano’s voyage are enumerated by Kohl,

Brevoort, and De Costa, the account by the last-named being the latest,

and perhaps the most complete.[59]

* * * * *

The controversy about this letter and voyage of Verrazano has excited

so much interest, that it is well to give a concise summary of Mr.

Murphy’s objections to the genuineness of the voyage, and to consider

with equal brevity some of the replies to these objections, and the

additional evidence for the support of the narrative which has been

discovered since the date of Mr. Murphy’s essay.

The conclusions which Mr. Murphy seeks to establish are set forth in

the following _brief_:—

“That the letter, according to the evidence upon which its existence

is predicated, could not have been written by Verrazzano; that the

instrumentality of the King of France in any such expedition of

discovery as therein described is unsupported by the history of that

country, and is inconsistent with the acknowledged acts of Francis and

his successors, and therefore incredible; and that its description of

the coast and some of the physical characteristics of the people and

of the country are essentially false, and prove that the writer could

not have made them from his own personal knowledge and experience,

as pretended; and, in conclusion, it will be shown that its apparent

knowledge of the direction and extent of the coast was derived from

the exploration of Estévan Gomez, a Portuguese pilot in the service of

the King of Spain; and that Verrazzano, at the time of his pretended

discovery, was actually engaged in a corsairial expedition, sailing

under the French flag, in a different part of the ocean.”[60]

Mr. Murphy argues, first, that the letter is not genuine, because no

original has ever “been exhibited, or referred to in any contemporary

or later historian as being in existence; and, although it falls within

the era of modern history, not a single fact which it professes to

describe relating to the fitting out of the expedition, the voyage,

or the discovery, is corroborated by other testimony, whereby its

genuineness might even be inferred.”[61] He considers it “highly

improbable” that there could have been a French original of the letter,

from which two translations were made, with an interval of twenty-seven

years between them, “and yet no copy of it in French, or any memorial

of its existence in that language, be known.”[62] As the Carli copy

contains a Cosmographical Appendix not in the Ramusio text, Mr. Murphy

assumes that Ramusio took his version from the Carli manuscript,

revising it, and changing its language to suit his editorial taste.

Later in his book he goes farther, and accuses Ramusio of suppressing

a fact here and adding another there, to make the Verrazano narrative

agree with other documents in his possession. As Carli’s letter to his

father covered his copy of Verrazano’s letter, the inquiry is narrowed

down to a question of the authenticity of the Carli letter. Mr. Murphy

argues that this letter cannot be genuine, because it was written by

an obscure person, at a great distance from the French Court, and from

Dieppe (the port from which Verrazano wrote), only twenty-seven days

after the date of the letter which it pretended to enclose.

Mr. Murphy, in the next division of his argument, asserts that no such

voyage was made for the King of France:—

“Neither the letter, nor any document, chronicle, memoir, or history

of any kind, public or private, printed or in manuscript, belonging

to that period or the reign of Francis I., who then bore the crown,

mentioning or in any manner referring to it, or to the voyage and

discovery, has ever been found in France; and neither Francis

himself, nor any of his successors, ever acknowledged or in any

manner recognized such discovery, or asserted under it any right to

the possession of the country; but, on the contrary, both he and they

ignored it, in undertaking colonization in that region, by virtue of

other discoveries made under their authority, or with their permission

by their subjects.”[63]

He claims that the accounts of Verrazano’s voyage given by French

historians all show internal evidence that the information was derived

from Ramusio. The life of Francis I., he further says, is a complete

denial of the assertion that Verrazano’s voyage was made by his

direction. Francis sent out the expeditions of Cartier and of Roberval,

and yet never recognized the discovery made by Verrazano. And the

map, sometimes called that of Henry II. (the date of which, however,

has been supposed to be some years earlier than the accession of that

monarch in 1547), an official map displaying all the knowledge the

French Court possessed of the American coast, is destitute of any trace

of Verrazano.[64]

Mr. Murphy considers next what he calls the misrepresentations in the

letter in regard to the geography of the coast. Only to one place, an

island, is a name given. A very noticeable omission is that of the

Chesapeake Bay, which could not have been overlooked by an explorer

seeking a passage to Cathay; and not even the named island really

exists: there is none on the coast answering its description.

He next undertakes to show that the letter claims the discovery of

Cape Breton and the southerly coast of Newfoundland; and that Ramusio,

knowing this claim to be false, “deliberately” interpolated into his

text a clause to limit Verrazano’s discoveries to the point where those

of the Bretons began.

Mr. Murphy argues next that “the description of the people and

productions of the land [were] not made from the personal observation

of the writer of the letter. What distinctively belonged to the natives

is unnoticed, and what is originally mentioned of them is untrue.”[65]

He thinks that all the details given of Indian manners and customs may

have been copied from well-known narratives of other visits to other

parts of America, and instances a source whence they may have been

drawn. Fault is found with Verrazano’s letter because it neglects to

mention such peculiarities of the Indians as wampum, tobacco, and,

“most remarkable omission of all,” the bark canoe. The falsity of the

narrative, made probable by these omissions, is rendered certain by

the positive statement of a radical difference in complexion between

the tribes found in different parts of the country.[66] And, again,

the condition in which plants and vegetation are described is equally

absurd and preposterous. And so both in the case of the color of the

natives and in that of the conditions of the grapes, Ramusio, says Mr.

Murphy, is obliged to alter the text of the narrative to make these

stories probable.

The extrinsic evidence in support of the Verrazano discovery is next

considered. As Mr. Murphy knew this evidence, it consisted of two

pieces,—the Verrazano map, and the discourse of the great French

sea-captain. The map was known, at the time of the printing of Mr.

Murphy’s essay, only by description and by two inadequate photographs.

Our present information about this map is so much greater, that Mr.

Murphy’s account of it may be passed over until the map itself is

described, later. The French captain’s discourse is known only in the

Italian translation printed by Ramusio, and placed in his third volume,

immediately after the Verrazano letter. Mr. Murphy dismisses this piece

of evidence with few words. Finding in the discourse a clause relating

to Verrazano, he at once concludes that Ramusio interpolated it, to

make this document consistent with the letter.

A skilled advocate, after proving to his own satisfaction the falsity

of a document, likes to find some genuine story which may have served

the concocters of the falsehood as a model and storehouse for their

lies. He wants also to complete his case by showing the motive for the

forgery. This motive Mr. Murphy finds in the civic pride of Florence.

All the evidence in favor of the story is traceable, he says, to

Florence. As for the model and source of the letter, he discovers

these in an attempt “to appropriate to a Florentine the glory which

belonged to Estévan Gomez, a Portuguese pilot ... in the service of

the Emperor.” He gives the voyage of Gomez in pretty full details. The

landfall occurred on the coast of South Carolina. Thence he ran the

coast northwardly to Cape Breton, where he turned and retraced his

track as far as Florida, returning to Spain by way of Cuba. Mr. Murphy

brings forward the map of Ribero, made in 1529, which he claims as an

official exhibition of the discoveries of Gomez, and which he thinks

was used in the construction of the Verrazano letter, because the

several courses and distances run, as described in the letter, agree

with similar divisions on the map.[67]

Mr. Murphy adds a concluding chapter, in which he gives the true

history of the life of Verrazano, as he gathers it from authentic

sources. Beyond his birth and parentage nothing is perhaps certainly

known, except his career as a French corsair, under the name of Juan

Florin or Florentin. In this capacity he made several rich captures

from the Spanish and Portuguese, notably the treasure sent home by

Cortes in 1523. Mr. Murphy thinks that a passage in a letter of the

Portuguese ambassador in France, which appears to refer to preparations

for a voyage of discovery about this time, is really an allusion to the

proposed raid, the other being used by the French as a cloak or cover.

At all events, he says, Verrazano cannot have been in two places at

once,—on the coast of America, or on his return from Newfoundland

to France, and at the same time have taken a ship on her way from

the Indies to Portugal. He cites, as authority for this _alibi_, a

statement of the capture of a treasure ship brought by a courier from

Portugal, and mentioned in a letter of Peter Martyr, dated August 3,

1524.[68] Mr. Murphy then closes with an account of the capture and

execution of Florin, or Verrazano.

Mr. Murphy’s argument is an ingenious and able one; and the book,

having never been published, is not within the reach of all.[69]

To the objections named in the first divisions of Mr. Murphy’s

argument,—that the letter could not have been written by Verrazano,

and that no such voyage or discovery was made for the King of

France,—replies suggest themselves very easily. We have no originals

of many important documents, and yet do not doubt their general

accuracy,—the letters of Columbus and Vespucius, for instance; the

original French of Ribault; and, to come closer to Mr. Murphy, where is

the report of Gomez’ voyage? There is none; and its only supports are

an occasional not too flattering reference in the historians, and a map

made by another hand. The despised voyage of Verrazano rests upon both

a personal narrative and a map, the work of a brother.[70]

Mr. Murphy himself furnishes corroborative testimony to the probable

truth of Verrazano’s voyage. He cites a passage from Andrade’s

Chronicle of John III., then King of Portugal. By this it appears that

John learned that one “Joâo Varezano, a Florentine,” had offered to

the King of France to “discover other kingdoms in the East which the

Portuguese had not found, and that in the ports of Normandy a fleet

was being made ready under the favor of the admirals of the coast and

the dissimulation of Francis, to colonize the land of Santa Cruz,

called Brazil,” etc. The Portuguese King lost no time in sending a

special ambassador, João da Silveyra, to remonstrate; and Mr. Murphy

prints a letter from him to his sovereign, dated April 25, 1523, in

which he says: “By what I hear, Maestro Joâo Verazano, who is going

on the discovery of Cathay, has not left up to this date for want of

opportunity, and because of differences, I understand, between himself

and men; and on this topic, though knowing nothing positively, I have

written my doubts in accompanying letters. I shall continue to doubt,

unless he take his departure.”[71]

His Appendix contains also the agreement made by Admiral Chabot with

Verrazano and others to “equip, victual, and fit three vessels to make

the voyage for spices to the Indies.” Of this expedition Verrazano

was to be chief pilot. Chabot was created admiral in March, 1526,

which settles the date of this agreement. All these documents Mr.

Murphy is obliged to twist into attempts to cover attacks on Spanish

or Portuguese commerce by pretended voyages to the West. Is it not

easier to take the simple meaning which they carry on their face?

This agreement with the Admiral is supported by two documents first

printed by M. Harrisse.[72] In the first Giovanni appoints his brother

Jerome his attorney during the voyage to the Indies; the second is an

agreement with one Adam Godefroy, _bourgeois_ of Rouen, in reference

to some trading contemplated in the voyage.[73] Dr. De Costa brings

forward also another document relating to Verrazano, dated “the last

day of September, 1525,” found in the archives of Rouen; and M. Margry

states that he has a letter written at Paris, Nov. 14, 1527, in which

Verrazano is said to be preparing to visit America with five ships.[74]

And here, too, a reference should be made to the visit of Verrazano

to England with some map or globe, as mentioned more than once by

Hakluyt.[75]

There is yet hope that the original of the Verrazano letter may be

discovered. Dr. De Costa thinks that he has evidence of its probable

existence at one time in Spain; and also that it was used by Allefonsce

in 1545,—eleven years before the publication by Ramusio.[76] There

certainly seems no greater improbability in the supposition of two

independent translations, Carli’s and Ramusio’s, from a single

original, now lost, than in the assumption that Ramusio rewrote

the Carli text and omitted the cosmographical appendix. Indeed Mr.

Murphy’s charge, renewed at intervals in his essay as his theory of

the fabrication of the letter requires,—that Ramusio was guilty of

almost fraudulent editing,—has no foundation. The reputation of the

Italian editor stands too high to be easily assailed; and as he was not

a Florentine, motive for the deceit is lacking. A careful collation

of the verbal differences between the versions is said to support the

theory that they are separate translations of one original.[77] And M.

Desimoni, presumably an exact scholar of his own language, asserts that

a philological examination of the two texts shows that, if either is a

_rimaneggiato_ (worked over) copy, it is Carli’s, and not Ramusio’s.[78]

As to the genuineness of Carli’s letter to his father, the epistle

contains a reference to the expected arrival of the King at Lyons,

fixing its date, and giving thereby internal evidence of its reality.

There is really no improbability in the statement that Verrazano had

sent a copy of his letter to the Lyons merchants, and it is very easy

to suppose Carli in the employ, or enjoying the friendship, of one or

more of these merchants. The government of France had not been extended

over the seaports long enough to make it any breach of privilege to

communicate the results of a voyage to others than the King. And, as

Mr. Major observes, in regard to the great distance between Dieppe and

Lyons, “it would be a poor courier who could not compass that distance

in twenty-seven days.”[79]

[Illustration: AN AUTOGRAPH OF FRANCIS I.]

A reason for the failure of the Verrazano letter to make any impression

on the French King, or to influence his subsequent action in reference

to American discoveries and colonization, is found in the peculiar

circumstances of Francis at this time. Engaged in constant wars,

almost from the date of his accession to the throne, he was, in the

summer of 1524, hurrying south to defend Provence from the attack of

the Constable de Bourbon and the Marquis of Pescara, who had obtained

permission of Charles V. to invade it. Many towns, the capital, Aix,

among them, soon submitted to the Imperial forces; Marseilles was hotly

besieged, and only relieved by the close approach of Francis with his

army. Now the Queen-Mother was renamed Regent of France, and the war

transferred to Italy, where, at the battle of Pavia, Feb. 24, 1525,

Francis was defeated and taken prisoner. The following year was spent

in captivity in Spain. On his release he at once broke his plighted

faith, to renew the bitter struggle with the Emperor. For the time

there could be thought or plans for nothing but war. Verrazano and his

discovery were entirely forgotten at Court.

To Mr. Murphy’s objections founded on the misrepresentations of the

coast geography, and the mistakes and omissions in the description of

the people, contained in the letter, it is sufficient to answer that

that gentleman mistakes the character of the letter, and demands more

from it than he has a right to expect. “We do not quite see,” says Mr.

Major, “why the first description of a country should be the only one

expected to be free from imperfections.”[80] All the accounts of the

early visits to this country have mixed with the general truth of the

narrative more or less absurd and improbable statements. Dr. Kohl says:

“It is well known that the old navigators in these western countries

very often saw what they wished to see.”[81] As for the omission to

notice the Chesapeake Bay, and to describe wampum, tobacco, and the

bark-canoe, others besides Verrazano have been guilty of the same

offence.[82]

The Verrazano letter should be regarded, not as an exact, well-digested

report of the voyage (such as a modern explorer might make), but rather

as the first hasty announcement to the King of his return and of the

success of the voyage. It should be remembered also that mention is

made in it of a “little book,” called by Dr. Kohl “the most precious

part of what Verrazano wrote respecting his voyage,”[83] wherein were

noted the observations of longitude and latitude, of the currents, ebb

and flood of the sea, and of other matters which he hoped might be

serviceable to navigators. These and other notes were doubtless used by

the brother, Hieronimo, in making his map, and the abundance of names

displayed on that map is a reply to Mr. Murphy’s objection that the

letter contains but one name,—the Island of Louise.

I shall enumerate the authorities for the voyage of Gomez later in

this essay; but as Mr. Murphy finds in it the source of the forged

Verrazano letter, something must be said of it here. First, it is to

be noticed that while Mr. Murphy refuses the narrative of Verrazano’s

voyage utterly, he finds no difficulty in accepting one of Gomez’ which

is to a great degree of his own (Murphy’s) construction. Dr. Kohl and

other scholars have found it impossible to decide with any certainty

as to the extent and direction of this voyage. Mr. Murphy presents us

with full details,—a landfall in South Carolina; a coasting voyage to

the north as far as Cape Breton, a careful observation on the return

of rivers, capes, and bays; a temporary belief that he had found the

strait he was seeking in the Penobscot, or “Rio de los Gamos,” on

account of the great tide issuing from it, and a return to Spain by way

of Cuba. The authorities cited in support of these statements are Peter

Martyr’s _Decades_, Herrera, and Cespedes’ _Yslario general_,—the last

in manuscript. The extracts from Martyr and Herrera I have reserved

for another part of this chapter.[84] They do not support Mr. Murphy’s

details. The Cespedes manuscript was the subject of some remarks by

Mr. Buckingham Smith before the New York Historical Society, briefly

reported in the _Historical Magazine_.[85] Mr. Smith had not been

able to find this manuscript, but understood that it contained a full

account of the voyage of Gomez. Mr. Murphy’s note shows that he knew of

its existence in the National Library at Madrid. The director of that

library has examined this manuscript at the request of Harrisse, and

has not found in it any report of the voyage of Gomez by the navigator,

nor does it contain any detailed account of the expedition. There is a

reference which shows, perhaps, that Cespedes had seen one of Gomez’

writings.[86]

The attempt to derive the Verrazano letter from the voyage of Gomez

is called by Mr. Major the “climax of the series of Mr. Murphy’s

constructive imputations.”[87] His elaborate comparison of the courses

of Verrazano with similar divisions on Ribero’s map is open to serious

question. There are no such divisions on the map. He argues from a

knowledge of the two extreme terms of Verrazano’s voyage, and neglects

the intermediate term, the latitude of the harbor where the explorers

spent fifteen days, doubtless the most accurate latitude taken. And

even at the close of his comparison he allows that the latitudes of

Ribero’s map are wrong, and says that the map does not give a faithful

representation of the voyage of Gomez. It does not give by name the

“Rio de los Gamos” which Cespedes says Gomez discovered, although that

estuary was already drawn, in the same form given to it by Ribero,

on the earlier Weimar map of 1527, which map omits the name of Gomez

altogether.[88]

The passage from one of Peter Martyr’s letters, which Mr. Murphy

cites to prove that Verrazano was capturing a Portuguese vessel at

the time when the letter claimed him as making discoveries, is not

very conclusive. Mr. Major thinks that there was time for him to have

run down from Dieppe, after his return to that port, to the coast

of Portugal, attracted by so rich a game as one hundred and eighty

thousand ducats. But Martyr’s statement is indefinite. There are no

particulars of time or place, when or where the treasure was taken.

It is not even certain that the news brought by the courier was

more than a rumor. Martyr’s language is: “Ad aliud hac, iter fecit

regis Portugalliæ cursor, quod Florinus pyrata Gallus nauim regi

suo raptauerit ab Indis venientem, qua merces vehebãtur gemmarum et

aromatum ad ducatorum centum octoginta millium summam conqueritur.”[89]

The map of Hieronimo da Verrazano is without doubt the strongest

support of the letter and voyage of his brother Giovanni. That these

persons were brothers appears from a document dated May 11, 1526,

whereby the navigator constitutes “Jarosme de Varasenne, son frère

et heritier,” his attorney to act for him during a proposed voyage

to the Indies. This paper, first printed by M. Harrisse in 1876, is

signed “Janus Verrazanus.” Dr. De Costa gives a fac-simile of this

signature,—here reproduced,—the only known autograph of Verrazano.[90]

[Illustration]

Mr. Brevoort gives perhaps the best description of the map, and I

condense the following from his account of it. The map is on three

sheets of parchment, pasted together, and is 260 centimetres long and

130 wide (about 102 inches by 51), its length being just double the

width. It is well preserved, somewhat stained; but no part, except

coast-names, is indistinct. Its projection is the simple cylindrical

square one, in which all the degrees of latitude are made equal to

each other and to the equatorial ones. Like other maps of its period,

it has the equator drawn below the middle of the map, and shows 90° of

latitude north, and 64° south of it. In breadth it represents about

320° of longitude. There is no graduation for longitude; but the

meridians that cross the centres and sides of the two great circles

of windroses appear to be drawn seventy degrees apart. There is the

usual network of cross-lines radiating from windroses, with one great

central rose in north latitude 16°. From the centre of each rose

thirty-two lines are drawn to the points of the compass, and these

lines are prolonged to the margin of the map. One meridian is divided

into degrees of latitude of equal size, each one numbered. Close to the

upper margin there is a small scale, with a legend explaining that from

point to point there are twelve and a half leagues, each of four miles.

The scale is equal to eighteen degrees of latitude in length, and is

subdivided into six parts, each having four divisions or points.

[Illustration: THE VERRAZANO MAP.

A fac-simile of the engraving given by Brevoort, sufficient for a

general outline.]

Mr. Brevoort next gives a careful account of the representation of

different parts of the world upon this map. Passing somewhat rapidly

over the eastern hemisphere, which appears to be generally drawn from

the most recent authorities, he takes up the western in some detail.

The latitudes of the map are wrong; all the West India Islands are

placed several degrees too high, thus forcing northward all other

places. Verrazano’s landfall, for instance, is here indicated at about

42°, instead of 34°, as stated in the letter. With this correction

the map shows the American coast with some approach to accuracy.

Three French standards[91] are placed (according to Brevoort) on the

territory claimed as Verrazano’s discovery,—one at the southern and

one at the northern limit, with the third at the place where the

explorers spent fifteen days. Over these three flags appears the

inscription, in capital letters, “NOVA GALLIA SIVE IUCATANET,” and the

legend, already cited, “VERRAZANA SIVE NOVA GALLIA,” etc.

Mr. Brevoort has industriously collected the scanty references to

this map after it became the property of Cardinal Borgia, with whose

collection it was bequeathed to the Propaganda in 1804; but he has been

unable to discover the time when the Cardinal procured it, and the

source whence it came to his collection. Nothing, indeed, is known of

its early history.[92]

Dr. De Costa devotes a chapter of his book to the map of Hieronimo.

After showing that the map-maker and the navigator were brothers, he

proceeds to consider the genesis of the map, and finds the beginning

of its North American portion in the Lorraine map, published in the

Ptolemy of 1513. The latitudes of the Verrazano map are recognized as

erroneous, and the observer is warned to disregard them. “When this is

done, the student will have no difficulty in recognizing the outlines

of the North Atlantic coast. For general correctness, the delineation

is not equalled by any map of the sixteenth century.” Prominent places

are identified and named.

The influence of this map upon subsequent ones is next considered, and

a long list of maps showing this influence is cited. Dr. De Costa adds

to the value of his discussion by giving tracings from several of these

maps, with fac-similes of the Verrazano map, and an enlarged drawing of

its coast-line.[93] But the strong point of his chapter, and that for

which he deserves the greatest credit, is the publication of a sketch

of Verrazano’s coast of the United States, with the names of places

attached. These names he deciphered from the original map during a late

visit to Rome. They are, of course, of the greatest value in any future

study of the map. Dr. De Costa enters somewhat into a study of these

names.[94]

M. Desimoni, while generally acknowledging his indebtedness to Dr. De

Costa’s work, and praising that gentleman’s scholarship and research,

could not accept all his inferences in the matter of the names, and

doubted some of his readings. He therefore caused a fresh examination

of the map to be made, through the kind and learned services of Dr.

Giacomo Lumbroso and Canon Fabiani. He prints, in the Appendix to his

_Studio secondo_ on Verrazano, in parallel columns, the variations

from De Costa’s readings. The great difficulty and doubt attending the

deciphering words, particularly names, in old documents and maps, is

well known to all who have attempted such work.[95]

A discovery made lately at Milan brings out a new map, and one of

great value in the discussion of Verrazano’s voyage. M. Desimoni, on

his return to Genoa from the Geographical Congress held at Venice in

September, 1881, stopped at Milan, where he visited the Ambrosian

Library to consult some maps. He was there told by the _prefetto_, the

Abbé Ceriani, that a map by Vesconte Maggiolo, hitherto supposed to

bear the date of 1587, and therefore to have been the work of one of

the second generation of this family of map-makers, was really dated

1527. By comparing the legend on this map with one of similar form and

writing on a map of 1524, it could be seen that the numeral 2 in the

first map had become an 8 by lengthening the curves of the figure until

they were finally joined. This appeared to have been done with ink of

a paler color. M. Desimoni reproduces the two legends, to show the

process.[96] He finds also certain peculiarities in the map, supposed

of 1587, which prove that it must belong to the first decades of the

century, and therefore entertains no doubt of the correctness of the

change in the date.

Fresh from studies of early American voyages, M. Desimoni examined the

North American portion of this map, particularly the coast, with as

great care as his limited time and the poor condition of the parchment

permitted. He was not a little surprised to find that the coast bore

names closely related both to the Verrazano and to other maps whose

source is yet undiscovered. He made a copy of the names, and afterward

submitted his work to Signor Carlo Prayer, of Milan, who verified it,

and also furnished as perfect a copy as it was possible to make of

the names, and a sketch of the whole coast. This was reproduced by M.

Desimoni to illustrate a paper prepared for the Società Ligure di’

Storia Patria.

This map measures about seventy-five centimetres in length by about

fifty in width,—about 29½ inches by 19½. Its legend reads: “Vesconte

de Maiollo conposuy hanc cartam in Janua anno d̄ny. 1527, die xx

Decenbris.” The place occupied in the Verrazano map by the title NOVA

GALLIA, etc., and the legend about Verrazano’s discovery, bears in this

map the name FRANCESCA, to indicate exactly a name for the whole region.

There is no mention of Verrazano by name in this map, but there is

ample evidence of a connection between Maggiolo’s map and that of

Hieronimo da Verrazano; very probably, M. Desimoni thinks, through

the intervention or medium of some chart or charts yet unknown. The

Maggiolo map has a reference to Florence, Verrazano’s birthplace, in

the names of “Valle unbrosa” (Vallambrosa), “Careggi,” etc.; references

to France and Francis in such names as “Anguileme,” “Longavilla,”

“Normanvilla,” “Diepa,” “San Germano,” and others, particularly

“Luisa,” applied to an island. The map is connected with Verrazano’s,

not only by this name, but by a great number which the two have in

common. It is true that these names are not always applied to the

same positions on the two maps: “Luisa” is a squarish island on the

Maggiolo map, and a triangular one on the other, and in the letter. The

latitudes of Maggiolo’s map are different. Florida is placed as far

south as the tropic. There is naturally some diversity in the general

direction of the coast, and in the distances from place to place. But

the substantial points are equivalent, if not identical. We have the

NOVA GALLIA in its equivalent, FRANCESCA; the same allusions in the

names to Tuscany, France, Dieppe; and an identity in the names of three

very important places,—“Luisa,” the port of refuge, and the attempt to

show Cape Cod.

M. Desimoni examines again the map of Gastoldo, first published in

the Ptolemy of 1548, inserted later in Ramusio’s third volume, and

the globe known as the globe of Ulpius, already mentioned here. Both

contain names that appear on the Verrazano map; but an examination

shows that both contain names not on that map, and each contains at

least one name not on the other. All these names are found on the

map of Maggiolo; and M. Desimoni concludes his paper with a table in

four parallel columns, in which a careful comparison is given of the

nomenclature of four maps,—the Maggiolo of 1527, the Verrazano of

1529, the Ulpius globe of 1542, and the Gastoldo of 1548.[97]

The earliest mention of the voyage of Gomez is found in Oviedo’s

_Sumario_, which was published at Toledo in 1526.[98] It is there

stated (folio xiv, _verso_) that Gomez returned in November from a

voyage begun the year before (1524, which we now know is an error);

that he had found in the north “a greate parte of lande continuate from

that which is caued Baccaleos, discoursynge towarde the West to the xl.

and xli. degree [et puesta en quarenta grados y xli, et assi algo mas y

algo menos], frō whense he brought certeyn Indians,” etc.[99]

Peter Martyr’s _Decades_ were published in a complete edition at Alcala

in 1530,[100] and his _Letters_ appeared also that same year from the

same press.[101] He speaks thus of Gomez in the Decades: “It is also

decreed that one Stephanus Gomez, who also himselfe is a skillful

navigator, shal goe another way, whereby, betweene the Baccalaos and

Florida, long since our countries, he saith he will finde out a waye

to Cataia: one onely shippe, called a Caruell, is furnished for him,

and he shall haue no other thing in charge then to search out whether

any passage to the great Chan, from out the diuers windings and vast

compassings of this our _Ocean_, were to be founde.”[102]

And later he narrates the return of the expedition, its failure to

find the strait (declaring his own opinion that Gomez’ “imaginations

were vaine and frivolous”), and tells the story about the mistake of

_cloves_ and _slaves_.[103] In a letter written in August, 1524, he

speaks also of the voyage of Gomez, but I find no mention of his return

in that publication.[104]

Gomara devotes a short chapter to Gomez. He says that his purpose

was to find a northern passage, but that he failed; and so, loading

his ship with slaves, returned home. He also relates the _clove_

anecdote.[105]

Herrera gives an account of Gomez and his voyage. He says: “Corriò

por toda aquella costa hasta la Florida, gran trecho de Tierra lo que

hasta entonces, por otros Navios Castellanos, no estaba navegado,

aunque Sebastian Gaboto, Juan Verraçano, i otros lo havian navegado....

Desde la Florida, atravesò à la Isla de Cuba, i fue à dar al Puerto de

Santiago, adonde se refrescò, i le regalò Andrès de Duero, por lo qual

el Rei le mostrò agradecimiento, bolviò à Castilla i aportò à la Coruña

diez meses despues que saliò de aquel Puerto,” etc.[106] “He ran along

that whole coast as far as Florida,—a great stretch of land which, up

to that time, had not been traversed by other Spanish ships, although

Sebastian Cabot, John Verrazano, and others had sailed along it....

From Florida he passed to the island of Cuba, and entered the port of

Santiago, where he refreshed, and Andrès de Duero regaled him, for

which the King showed gratitude. He returned to Castille, and landed at

Corunna ten months after he had sailed from that port,” etc.

Galvano, in his account of the voyage, appears to make Gomez sail along

the American coast from south to north; while Herrera, it will have

been observed, reverses this direction.[107] The testimony of Cespedes

has already been considered.[108] Dr. Kohl, in his _Discovery of

Maine_, gives a good account of Gomez’ voyage, based on careful study

of the authorities.[109]

The mutinous conduct of Gomez in the fleet of Magellan is related

by Pigafetta, who accompanied that expedition, and kept a diary,

from which he afterward made up an account of the voyage. One of the

copies of this, which existed only in manuscript, was given to Louisa,

mother of Francis I. of France, who employed Jacques Antoine Fabre to

translate it into French. He made in preference an abridgment of the

account, and this was published at Paris in 1525.[110]

For the opinion that a northern passage through America could be

discovered somewhere between Florida and the Baccalaos, Navarrete’s

work may be consulted.[111] He gives among his documents the

letter of the King commanding the attendance of Dornelos;[112] the

agreement with Agramonte in 1511, and his commission as captain of

the expedition,[113] and the grant to De Ayllon.[114] He has found

also the appointment of Gomez as pilot just before the sailing of his

expedition, Feb. 10, 1525.[115]

The Agreement of Gomez with the Emperor for the voyage is printed in

full in the _Documentos ineditos_.[116] Hernando Cortes’ letter about

the existence of the northern passage may be consulted in an English

translation in Mr. Folsom’s _Despatches of Cortes_.[117]

The discoveries of Gomez are laid down upon a map[118] of the world

made, at the command of the Emperor, in 1529 by Diego Ribero, a

well-known cosmographer, who had been sent to the Congress of Badajos

as one of the Spanish experts.

On a large section of this coast extending from Cape Breton westward

about three hundred leagues to a point where the land bends to the

south, is the legend: “TIERRA DE ESTEVAN GOMEZ la qual descubrio por

mandado de su mag^t nel anno de 1525 ay en ella muchos arboles y

fructas de los de españa y muchos rodovallos y salmones y sollos: no

han allado oro.” (“THE COUNTRY OF STEPHEN GOMEZ, which he discovered

at the command of his Majesty, in the year 1525. There are here many

trees and fruits similar to those in Spain, and many walruses and

salmon, and fish of all sorts. Gold they have not found.”)[119] This is

supposed to have been drawn from the reports of Gomez, and to contain

his coast-lines and the names which he gave to places.

Oviedo wrote in 1537 a description of the American coast from a map

made by Alonzo de Chaves the year before. He frequently cites Gomez

as his authority for the names of places, etc. This part of Oviedo’s

work remained in manuscript until its publication by the Academy of

Madrid in 1852. Dr. Kohl enters into an elaborate commentary of this

description by Oviedo, and the Chaves map, of which not even a copy has

come down to our times.[120]

* * * * *

The books of André Thevet which contain the accounts of his visit to

this country are the _Singularitez de la France antarctique_ and the

_Cosmographie universelle_.[121] Besides these works Thevet published

an account of his journey to the East, _Cosmographie du Levant_, at

Lyons, in 1554, and a series of portraits and lives of great men,

ancient and modern, in two volumes, at Paris, in 1584. He left also

several manuscripts, which are now preserved in the National Library at

Paris.

The _Singularitez_ passed to a second edition,[122] and was translated

into Italian by Giuseppe Horologgi,[123] and into English[124] by M.

Hacket. A reprint of the original edition was published at Paris in

1878, with notes, and a biographical preface by M. Paul Gaffarel of

Dijon.

The _Cosmographie_ was not reprinted, nor was it, so far as I know,

translated into any other language. In the _Magazine of American

History_ for February, 1882, however, Dr. De Costa published a

translation of the part of the book which relates to New England.

It seems quite probable that Thevet never made the voyage along the

American coast of which he pretends to give an account. He gives

nothing at all from Florida to what he calls the River of Norumbega,

and is generally very indefinite in all his statements. He may easily

have taken his stories from other travellers’ books, and it is known he

used Cartier and others; and indeed he is said to have been ill nearly

all the time of his stay in Brazil, and to have scarcely stirred out of

the island where the fort was, waiting for the ship to make ready for

home.

Thevet’s reputation for veracity is poor, particularly among his

contemporaries. Jean de Léry, who was one of the party which went out

to Villegagnon, in response to his appeal for Protestant ministers

in 1556, after Thevet’s return home, wrote an account of the Brazil

enterprise. This, first published at La Rochelle in 1578, passed

through several editions. The preface of the second edition is occupied

with an exposure of the “errors and impostures” of Thevet, and that

of the fifth edition contains more matter of the same kind. De Léry

calls Thevet “impudent menteur,” and speaks of his books as “vieux

haillons et fripperies.” Again he says, “Il fait des contes prophanes,

ridicules, pueriles, et mensonges pour tous ses escrits.” Possibly

some allowance may be made for the _odium theologicum_ of the writer,

a Calvinist, disputing with a monk; and it may be remembered that

both had been disappointed in any hopes they had entertained of the

conversion of the Indians, through the treachery of Villegagnon.

Belleforest and Fumée have also written in harsh terms about Thevet. De

Thou, a historian of far more dignified and impartial character than

these others, is nearly as abusive. He says: “Il s’appliqua par une

ridicule vanité à écrire des livres, qu’il vendait à des misérables

libraires: après avoir compilé des extraits de différents auteurs, il y

ajoutait tout ce qu’il trouvait dans les guides des chemins et autres

livres semblables qui sont entre les mains du peuple. Ignorant au-delà

de ce qu’on peut imaginer, il mettait dans ses livres l’incertain pour

le certain, et le faux pour le vrai, avec une assurance étonnante.”[125]

Even Thevet’s latest editor, M. Gaffarel, is forced to begin his

notice of the monk by allowing that he was not “un de ces écrivans de

premier ordre, qui, par la sûreté de leur critique, le charme de leur

style, ou l’intérét de leurs écrits commandent l’admiration à leurs

contemporains, et s’imposent à la postérité. Il passait, au contraire,

même de son temps, pour ne pas avoir un jugement très sur,” etc. M.

Gaffarel claims for Thevet the credit of introducing tobacco into

France, and hopes that this may balance the imperfections of his books.

Dr. Kohl gave some credence to Thevet’s narrative, but admits that he

is “not esteemed as a very reliable author.” Still, he translated the

account of his visit to Penobscot Bay, and inserted it entire in his

_Discovery of Maine_.[126] Dr. De Costa in 1870 criticised this view of

Dr. Kohl.[127]

[Illustration]

NOTE.—Harrisse, in his recent _Discovery of North America_ (p. 234),

cites for the first time a long passage about Gomez’s voyage from the

Islario of Alonso de Santa Cruz, preserved in the Imperial Library at

Vienna, and finds it to be the source whence Cespedes (see _ante_,

p. 24) drew his language; and in it he finds somewhat uncertain

proof that Gomez went as far north as the entrance of the Gulf of

St. Lawrence, and corrected some cartographical notions respecting

those waters. A map showing Gomez’s discoveries is attached to the

_Islario_, and Harrisse gives this map in fac-simile.

MAPS OF THE

EASTERN COAST OF NORTH AMERICA,

1500-1535,

WITH THE CARTOGRAPHICAL HISTORY OF THE SEA

OF VERRAZANO.

BY THE EDITOR.

THE Editor has elsewhere[128] referred to the great uncertainty

attending the identification of minor coast localities in the earliest

maps. The most trustworthy interpreters recognize two important

canons,—namely, that cartographical names during a long series of

years, and at an era of exploration forerunning settlements, are

always suspicious and often delusive, as Professor Bache has pointed

out in the _Coast Survey Report_ for 1855 (p. 10); and that direction

is likely to be right, and distance easily wrong, as Humboldt has

explained. Nothing is more seductive than to let a spirit of dogmatism

direct in the interpretation of the early maps, and there is no field

of research in which predisposition to belief may lead one so wrongly.

It was largely in the spirit of finding what they sought, that the

early map-makers fashioned their charts; and their interpretation

depends quite as much on geographical views current in those days as

upon geographical facts patent in these days.

The study of early American cartography may be said to have begun

with Humboldt; and in this restricted field no one has since rendered

greater service than Dr. Kohl.[129] Mr. Brevoort, not without justice,

calls him “the most able comparative geographer of our day.”[130]

The labor which Dr. Kohl performed took expression not only in his

publications, but also in the collection of copies of early maps which

he formed and annotated for the United States Government twenty-five

years ago. His later printed books, using necessarily much of the same

material, may be riper from longer experience; but the Washington

Collection, as he formed it, is still valuable, and deserves to be

better known. It belongs to the Department of State, and consists

of not far from four hundred maps, following printed and manuscript

originals. They are carefully and handsomely executed, but with little

attempt at reproduction in fac-simile. By favor of the Secretary of

State, and through the interest of Theodore F. Dwight, Esq., the

librarian of that department, the collection has been intrusted to

the Editor for use in the present work and for the preparation of

an annotated calendar of the maps which will be printed by Harvard

University.

[Illustration: THE ADMIRAL’S MAP, 1513.]

Besides this collection in the State Department (which cost the

Government nearly $6,000), the Reports of the United States

Coast-Survey[131] describe three other collections, accompanied

by descriptive texts, which he made for that office, and which he

proposed to call collectively “The Hydrographic Annals of the United

States.” They repeat many of the maps belonging to the State Department

Collection. These supplemental collections are,—

1. On the eastern coast of the United States, giving copies of 41 maps;

the titles of 155 surveys of the coast between 1612 and 1851; a list

of 291 works on the early explorations of the coast; and an historical

memoir on such voyages, from the Northmen down.

2. On the coasts of the Gulf of Mexico falling within the United

States, giving copies of 48 maps from 1500 to 1846; the titles of 58

surveys (exclusive of those of the United States), between 1733 and

1851; a list of 221 books and manuscripts on the explorations since

1524; and an historical memoir of the explorations between 1492 and

1722.[132]

3. On the west coast of the United States, giving a bibliography of 230

titles.

There is another historical memoir by Dr. Kohl, with other copies of

the maps of the west coast, in the Library of the American Antiquarian

Society at Worcester, Mass.; and this also has been in the temporary

custody of the Editor.[133] At the time of his death Dr. Kohl was

occupied with the preparation of a history of the Search for a

Northwest Passage, from Cortes to Franklin, of which only a fragment

appeared in the Augsburg periodical, _Ausland_. It was a theme which

would naturally have embraced the whole extent of his knowledge of

early American discovery and cartography.[134]

The best printed enumeration of maps of the eastern coast of North

America is given by Harrisse for the earlier period in his _Cabots_,

and for a later period in his _Notes sur la Nouvelle France_.

[Illustration: PORTUGUESE CHART, 1503 (_after Kohl_).]

The map of La Cosa (1500) still remains the earliest of these

delineations, and a heliotype of it is given in another

volume.[135] Harrisse has lately claimed the discovery in Italy

of a Portuguese chart of 1502, showing the coast from the Gulf

of Mexico to about the region of the Hudson River, which bears

coast names in twenty-two places; but the full publication of the

facts has not yet been made;[136] and there is no present means

of ascertaining what relation it bears to a large manuscript map

of the world, of Portuguese origin, preserved in the Archives at

Munich, of which a part is herewith sketched from Dr. Kohl’s copy,

and to which he gives the conjectural date of 1503.

Dr. Kohl also reproduces it in part in his _Discovery of Maine_,

p. 174, where he dates it 1504. His two copies vary, in that the

engraved one seems to make the east and west coast-line from “Cabo

de Conception” the determinate one, while his manuscript copy gives

the completed character to the other line. It is held to record the

results of Cortereal’s voyage, and shows in Greenland a more correct

outline than any earlier chart. The other coast seems to be Labrador

and Newfoundland run into one. Peschel (_Geschichte des Zeitalters der

Entdeckungen_, p. 331) puts the date 1502 or 1503. The present Cape

Freels, on the Newfoundland coast, is thought to be a corruption of

“Frey Luis,”—here given to an island. (Cf. Kunstmann, _Die Entdeckung

Amerikas_, pp. 69, 128.) Harrisse (_Cabots_, p. 161) speaks of

Kunstmann’s referring it to “Salvat de Pilestrina,” and thinks that

the author may be “Salvat[ore] de Palastrina” of Majorca. Lelewel also

gives in his _Géographie du Moyen-Âge_ (plate 43) a map of importance

in this connection, which he dates 1501-1504, and which seems to be

very like a combination of the two Ptolemy maps of 1513. The Reinel

Chart of 1505 has been referred to in the preceding text.[137]

The _Catalogue_ of the Library of Parliament (Canada), 1858, p.

1614, gives what purports to be a copy of a “Carte de l’embouchure

du St. Laurent faite et dressée sur une écorce de bois de Vouleau,

envoyée du Canada par Jehan Denys, 1508.” Shea also mentions it in

his _Charlevoix_, i. 106, with a reference to Ramusio’s third volume.

Mr. Ben: Perley Poore, in his _Documents collected in France_, in the

Massachusetts Archives, says he searched for the original of this

map at Honfleur without success. Harrisse, _Cabots_, p. 250, says no

such map is to be found in the Paris Archives; and a tracing being

supplied from Canada, he pronounces it “absolument apocryphe,” with a

nomenclature of the last century. Bancroft (_United States_, edition of

1883, i. 14) still, however, acknowledges a map of Denys of this date.

The question of the duration of the belief in the Asiatic connection

of North America naturally falls into connection with the volume[138]

of this work devoted to the Spanish discoveries. We may refer briefly

to a type of map represented by the Lenox globe[139] (1510-1512),

the Stobnicza map[140] (1512), the so-called Da Vinci sketch[141]

(1512-1515), the Sylvanus map in the Ptolemy of 1511, the Ptolemy

of 1513, the Schöner, or Frankfort, globe of 1515,[142] the Schöner

globe of 1520,[143] the Münster map of 1532,[144] and even so late a

representation as the Honter mappamundi of 1542, reproduced in 1552 and

1560. This type represents a solitary island, or a strip of an unknown

shore, sometimes joined with the island, lying in the North Atlantic.

The name given to this land is Baccalaos, or Corterealis, or some

equivalent form of those words, and their coasts represent the views

which the voyages of the Cabots and Cortereals had established. West

and southwest of this the ocean flowed uninterruptedly, till you came

to the region of Florida and its northern extension. The Portuguese

seem to have been the first to surmise a continental connection to this

region, in a portolano which is variously dated from 1514 to 1520, and

whose legends have been quoted in the preceding text.[145]

The Portuguese claim of explorations in this region by Alvarez Fagundes

in 1521, or later, is open to question. If a map which is brought

forward by C. A. de Bettencourt, in his _Descobrimentos dos Portuguezes

em terras do ultramar nos seculos xv e xvi_, published at Lisbon in

1881-1882, represents the knowledge of a time anterior to Cartier,

it implies an acquaintance with this region more exact than we have

other evidence of. The annexed sketch of that map follows a colored

fac-simile entitled, “Fac-simile de uma das cartas do atlas de Lazaro

Luiz,” which is given by Bettencourt. The atlas in which it occurs was

made in 1563, though the map is supposed to record the explorations of

João Alvarez Fagundes, under an authority from King Manoel, which was

given in 1521. Harrisse in his _Cabots_ (p. 277) indicates the very

doubtful character of this Portuguese claim.

[Illustration: LAZARO LUIZ.]

[Illustration: VERRAZANO, 1529.]

The information concerning the Baccalaos region, which was the basis

of these Portuguese charts, seems also to have been known, in part at

least, a few years later to Hieronymus Verrazano, and Ribero, though

the former contracted and the latter closed up the passages by the

north and south of Newfoundland. The chart usually ascribed to Fernando

Columbus[146] closely resembles that of Ribero. Of the Verrazano map

sufficient has been said in the preceding text; but it may not be

amiss to trace more fully the indications there given of its effect

upon subsequent cartography, so far as it established a prototype for

a great western sea only separated at one point from the Atlantic by

a slender isthmus. Mr. Brevoort (_Verrazano_, p. 5) is of the opinion

that the idea of the Western Sea originated with Oviedo’s _Sumario_ of

1526.

[Illustration: RIBERO, 1529.

The key is as follows:—

1. Esta tierra descubrierô los Ingleses, Tiera del Labrador.

2. Tiera de los Bacallaos, la qual descubrieron los corte reales.

3. Tiera de Esteva Gomez la qual descubrio por mandado de su. mag. el

año de 1525, etc.

There are several early copies of this map. Harrisse describes the

Weimar copy as having on “Tiera del Labrador” the words, “Esta tierra

descubrieron los Ingleses no ay en ella cosa de pronecho.” Thomassy

says the Propagande copy indicates the discovery of Labrador by the

English of Bristol. See Vol. III. pp. 16, 24, and a note in chap. ix.

of the present volume. The Ribero contour of the eastern coast long

prevailed as a type. We find it in the Venice map of 1534, of which

there is a fac-simile in Stevens’s _Notes_, and in the popular Bellero

map of 1554 (in use for many years), and, with little modification, in

so late a chart as Hood’s in 1592. It was held to for the coast between

Florida and Nova Scotia long after better knowledge prevailed of the

more northern regions. It was evidently the model of the map published

by the Spanish Government in 1877 in the _Cartas de Indias_.]

Reference has already been made to the map of Maggiollo, or Maiollo

(1527), which Desimoni has brought forward, and of which a fac-simile

of his sketch is reproduced on page 39. The sea will be here observed

with the designation, “Mare Indicum.” Dr. De Costa showed a large

photograph of it at a meeting of the New York Historical Society, May,

1883, pointing out that the name “Francesca” gave Verrazano the credit

of first bestowing that name in some form upon what was afterward known

as New France.[147]

In 1870 there was published in the _Jahrbuch des Vereins für Erdkunde

in Dresden_ (tabula vii.) a fac-simile of a map of America from a

manuscript atlas preserved in Turin which gives conjecturally this

western sea, closely after the type shown below in a map of Baptista

Agnese (1536); its date is put somewhere between 1530 and 1540.

An Italian mappamundi of the middle of the sixteenth century is

described by Peschel in the _Jahresbericht des Vereins für Erdkunde

in Leipzig_, 1871, where the map is given in colored fac-simile.

Peschel places it between 1534 and 1550; and it also bears a close

resemblance to the Agnese map, as does also a manuscript map of about

1536, preserved in the Bodleian, of which Kohl, in his manuscript

collection, has a copy. This Agnese map is a part of a portolano in the

Royal Library at Dresden; and similar ones by him are said to be in the

Royal Library at Munich, in the British Museum, and in the Bodleian,

dated a few months apart. Kohl, in his _Discovery of Maine_ (pl. xiv.),

sketches it from the Dresden copy, and his sketch is followed in the

accompanying cut. An account of Agnese’s cartographical labors is given

in another volume.[148]

Perhaps the most popular map of America issued in the sixteenth century

was Münster’s of 1540, of which a fac-simile is annexed. Kohl, in

his _Discovery of Maine_ (pl. xvª), erring, as has been pointed out

by Murphy,[149] in giving a date (1530) ten years too early to this

map, and in ignorance of the Maiollo map, was led into the mistake of

considering it the earliest which has been found showing this western

sea. The map was frequently repeated, with changes of names, during

that century, and is found in use in books as late as 1572.[150]

[Illustration: MAIOLLO, OR MAGGIOLO, 1527.

The two legends, with date, are explained on p. 28.]

In the same year (1540) a similarly conjectural western sea was given

in a map of the Portuguese Diego Homem, which is preserved in the

British Museum. Kohl, in his _Discovery of Maine_ (pl. xv.), gives

this and other maps which support in his judgment the belief in the

Verrazano Sea; but Murphy (_Verrazzano_, p. 106) denies that they

contribute any evidence to that end. Of the Ulpius globe, mention has

already been made.[151] A fac-simile of Dr. De Costa’s representation

of the American portion is given herewith.

[Illustration: AGNESE MAP, 1536.

The key is as follows: 1. Terra de bacalaos. 2. (_dotted line_) El

viage de france. 3. (_dotted line_) El viage de peru. 4. (_dotted

line_) El viago a maluche. 5. Temistitan. 6. Iucatan. 7. Nombre de

dios. 8. Panama. 9. La provintia de peru. 10. La provintia de chinagua.

11. S. paulo. 12. Mundus novus. 13. Brazil. 14. Rio de la plata. 15. El

Streto de ferdinando de Magallanas.

Harrisse (_Cabots_, p. 191), referring to the dotted line of a route

to India, which Agnese lays down on this map, crossing the Verrazano

isthmus, thinks it is rather a reminiscence of Verrazano than of

Cartier. Harrisse gives the legend, “el viazo de franza.”]

There are two maps which connect this western sea, extending southerly

from the north, with the idea that a belt of land surrounded the earth,

there being a connection between Europe and Greenland, and between

Greenland and Labrador, making America and Eastern Asia identical. This

theory was represented in a map of 1544,—preserved in the British

Museum and figured[152] by Kohl in his _Discovery of Maine_ (pl. xv.),

who assigns it to Ruscelli, the Italian geographer. Another support of

the same theory is found in the “Carta Marina” of the 1548 edition of

Ptolemy (map no. 60).

Jacobo Gastaldo, or Gastaldi, was the cartographer of this edition,

and Lelewel[153] calls him “le coryphée des géographes de la peninsula

italique.” Ruscelli, if he did not make this map for Gastaldo, included

it in his own edition of Ptolemy in 1561, the maps of which have been

pointed out by Thomassy as bearing “la plus grande analogie avec celles

de la galerie géographique de Pie IV.,” while the same authority[154]

refers to a planisphere of Ruscelli (1561) as “inédit, conservé au

Musée de la Propagande.”[155]

This union of North America and Asia was a favorite theory of the

Italians long after other nations had given it up.[156] Furlani in 1560

held to it in a map, and Ruscelli, in another map of the 1561 edition

of Ptolemy, leaves the question unsettled by a “littus incognitum.”

[Illustration: MÜNSTER, 1540.]

* * * * *

Meanwhile Münster in the 1540 Ptolemy had given his idea of the western

sea by making it a southern extension of the northwest passage. This is

shown in a sketch of Münster’s 1540 map given above.

[Illustration: FROM THE ULPIUS GLOBE, 1542.]

[Illustration: CARTA MARINA, 1548.

The key is as follows:—

1. Norvegia. 11. Ganges.

2. Laponia. 12. Samatra.

3. Gronlandia. 13. Java.

4. Tierra del Labrador. 14. Panama.

5. Tierra del Bacalaos. 15. Mar del Sur.

6. La Florida. 16. El Brasil.

7. Nueva Hispania. 17. El Peru.

8. Mexico. 18. Strecho de Fernande Magalhaes.

9. India Superior. 19. Tierra del Fuego.

10. La China.]

One of the most conspicuous instances of a belief in this sea was the

Lok map of 1582, which Hakluyt published, as has been already stated,

in his _Divers Voyages_ of that year, which, being made “according to

Verarzanus’s plot,” is reproduced here from the cut already given in

the preceding volume.[157]

With Lok we may consider that the western sea vanishes, unless there

be thought a curious relic of it in the map which John White, of the

Roanoke Colony, made in 1585 of the coast from the Chesapeake to

Florida, which is preserved among the De Bry drawings in the British

Museum. The history of these drawings has been already told.[158] There

is a copy of this map in the Kohl Collection; but the annexed sketch

is taken from a fac-simile engraving given by Dr. Edward Eggleston in

_The Century Magazine_, November, 1882. It will be observed that at

Port Royal there seems to be a passage to western water of uncertain

extent,[159] which was interpreted later as an inland lake.

[Illustration: LOK’S MAP, 1582,—REDUCED.]

[Illustration: JOHN WHITE, 1585.]

Other maps of this period have no trace of such western sea, like the

protuberant “Terra del laboradore” of Bordone in 1521 and 1528;[160]

the “Terra Francesca” of the Premontré globe, now in the National

Library at Paris;[161] the northeasterly trend of the map of the monk

Franciscus;[162] the “Nova Terra laboratorum dicta” of Robert Thorne’s

map (1527);[163] Piero Coppo’s _Portolano_ of 1528, in which America

appears as a group of islands; and in the British Museum among the

Sloane Manuscripts a treatise, _De principiis astronomie_, which has

a map in which the eastern coast of America is made to consist of two

huge peninsulas, one of them being marked “Terra Franciscana nuper

lustrata,”[164] and the other, “Baccalear regio,” ending towards the

east with a cape, “Rasu.”[165]

Kunstmann in his _Atlas_ (pl. vi.) gives a map which he places between

1532 and 1540; it is of unknown authorship.

Wieser, in his _Magalhâes-Strasse_ (p. 77), points to a globe of

Schöner, the author of the _Opusculum geographicum_, in which he

claimed that “Bachalaos—called from a new kind of fish there—had been

discovered to be continuous with Upper India.”

[Illustration: NORTH AMERICA, 1532-1540 (_after Kunstmann_).]

There is a chart of Newfoundland and the Gulf of St. Lawrence dated

1534, and of which Kohl gives a sketch in his _Discovery of Maine_

(pl. xviiiª). It is signed by Gaspar Viegas, of whom nothing is known.

A map, in what Harrisse[166] calls the Wolfenbüttel Manuscript, has

the legend upon Labrador: “This land was discovered by the English

from Bristol, and named Labrador because the one who saw it first was

a laborer from the Azores.” Biddle, in his _Sebastian Cabot_, p. 246,

had conjectured from a passage in a letter of Pasqualigo in the _Paesi

novamente retrovati_ of 1507 (lib. vi. cap. cxxvi.), that the name had

come from Cortereal’s selling its natives in Lisbon as slaves.

CHAPTER II.

JACQUES CARTIER AND HIS SUCCESSORS.

BY THE REV. BENJAMIN F. DE COSTA, D.D.

JACQUES CARTIER, the Breton sailor, sometimes styled “the Corsair,”

was born at St. Malo, probably in 1491. He began to follow the sea at

an early age, and soon attained to prominence. In 1534 the discovery

of a western route to the Indies being a subject that attracted great

attention, Cartier undertook an expedition, for which preparations had

been begun during the previous year.

The Treaty of Cambrai having given peace to France, the privateersmen,

or “corsairs,” found that the best excuse for their occupation was

gone; and they were ready to engage in the work of exploration opened

by Francis I. in 1524, by sending out Verrazano. Accordingly the King

appears to have accepted the plan of Cartier submitted by Chabot,

Admiral of France, and the arrangements were perfected. Cartier’s

commission for the voyage has not yet been produced, though in March,

1533, he was recognized by the Court of St. Malo as a person already

authorized to undertake a voyage to the New Land.

Cartier sailed from the ancient port of St. Malo, April 20, 1534. With

two ships of about sixty tons each, and a company, it would appear,

of sixty-two chosen men, he laid his course in the track of the old

navigators, with whom he must have been familiar. On May 10 he reached

Cape Bonavista, one of the nearest headlands of Newfoundland. Forced

by storms to seek refuge in the harbor of St. Catherine, about fifteen

miles south-southeast of Bonavista, he spent ten days in making some

needed repairs. With the return of favorable winds he resumed his

voyage, and coasted northward to the Island of Birds, which he found

surrounded by banks of broken ice and covered by an incredible number

of fowl. With these the French loaded their boats in half an hour.

There, also, they saw a large bear, “as white as any swan,” swimming

thither “to eat of the said birds.” On May 27 the ships reached the

entrance of the Straits of Belle Isle, but were obliged by the ice to

enter the neighboring harbor of Carpunt, 51° N. From Carpunt, Cartier

sailed to the Labrador coast, and, June 10, reached a harbor which he

called Port Brest. The next day being the festival of St. Barnabas,

divine service was said by the priest serving as chaplain, after which

several boats went along the coast to explore, when they reached and

named the harbors of St. Anthony, St. Servans, and Jacques Cartier.

At St. Servans the explorers set up a cross, and near by, at a place

called St. John’s River, they found a ship from Rochelle, which had

touched at Port Brest the previous night.

[Illustration:

[The familiar portrait of Cartier, of which a sketch of the head is

given in the accompanying vignette, is preserved at St. Malo, and

engravings of it will be found in Shea’s editions of _Le Clercq’s

Etablissement de la Foy and of Charlevoix’s Histoire de la Nouvelle

France_, vol. i. p. 110, and in Faillon’s _Histoire de la Colonie

Française_, vol. i.—ED.]]

The boats returned to the ships on the 13th, the leader reporting the

appearance of Labrador as forbidding, saying that this must be the

land that was allotted to Cain. In this region they found some savages

who were “wild and unruly,” and who had come “from the mainland out

of warmer regions” in bark canoes. They appear to have been the Red

Indians, or Boeotics, of Newfoundland, who were renowned as hunters,

and who excelled in the manufacture of instruments carved in ivory and

bone. Professor Dawson says that the Breton sailor here stood in the

presence of the precise equivalent of the Flint Folk of his own country.

From Port Brest the expedition crossed the Strait and “sailed toward

the south, to view the lands that we had there seen, that appeared to

us like two great islands; but when we were in the middle of the Gulf

we knew it that it was _terra firma_, where there was a great double

cape, one above the other, and on this account we called it Cape

Double.” This was Point Rich, Newfoundland. Coasting the land, amid

mists and storms, June 24 he reached a cape, which in honor of the day

he called Cape St. John,—now known as Anguille. From Anguille Cartier

sailed southwest into the Gulf, reaching the Isles aux Margoulx, the

present Bird Rocks, two of which were “steep and upright as any wall,”

where he was again impressed by the fowl, “innumerable as the flowers

on a meadow.” Twenty-five miles westward was another island, about

six miles long and as many wide, being fertile, and full of beautiful

trees, meadows, and flowers. There were sea-monsters on the shores,

which had tusks like elephants. This he called Brion Island, and the

name still remains.

At this point both Ramusio’s narrative of the voyage and the _Discovrs

dv voyage_ (1598) make Cartier say: “I think that there may be some

passage between Newfoundland and Brion Island;” but the text of the

_Relation originale_[167] reads, “between the New Land and the land of

the Bretons.” This has been accepted as teaching that Cartier at that

time did not know of the strait between Newfoundland and Cape Breton;

and it is argued that, as it afforded a shorter route from France to

Canada, he would have followed it, if he had known of its existence;

yet in 1541, when he certainly knew that strait, he took the route by

Belle Isle, as twice before. Again, on his second voyage, while passing

through the southern strait on his way to France, the narrative does

not speak of any discovery. The inference may be drawn that the passage

quoted misrepresents Cartier. Indeed, the portion of the narrative

covering the movements around Brion and Alezay Island is so confused

that one with difficulty takes in the situation. Dr. Kohl, in his

_Discovery of Maine_ (p. 326), represents Brion’s Island as the present

Prince Edward; though no map seems to bear out the statement.

Next Cartier passed to an island “very high and pointed at one end,

which was named Alezay.” Its first cape was called St. Peter’s, in

honor of the day. This, as it would appear, is the present Prince

Edward Island;[168] but the account admits of large latitude of

interpretation.

Cartier reached the mainland on the evening of the last day of June,

and named a headland Cape Orleans; next he found Miramichi Bay, or

the Bay of Boats, which he called St. Lunario. Here he had some hope

of finding a passage through the continent. On July 4 Cartier was

surrounded by a great fleet of canoes, and was obliged to fire his

cannon to drive the natives away. The next day, however, he met them on

the shore, and propitiated their chief with the present of a red hat.

These were the Micmacs, a coast tribe wandering from place to place,

fishing in the summer, and hunting in the interior during the winter.

By July 8 he reached the bay which, on account of the heat, he called

the Bay Chaleur, known by the Indians as Mowebaktabāāk, or the Biggest

Bay. Here the Micmac country ended, and the natives were of another

tribe, visitors from Canada, who had descended the St. Lawrence to

prosecute the summer fisheries.[169] They proved friendly, engaging in

trade, and showing a disposition which Cartier thought would incline

them to receive Christianity. The country was beautiful, but no passage

was found extending through the land; and accordingly he sailed

northward, reaching a place called St. Martin’s Creek, and saying that

on this coast they have “figs, nuts, pears, and other fruits.” Leaving

St. Martin’s Creek, the coast was followed to Cape Prato,—a name which

appears like a reminiscence of Albert de Prato, who was at Newfoundland

in 1527.[170] Forty natives were seen in canoes; but they were poor,

and almost in a nude condition. They appeared to be catching mackerel

in nets made of a kind of hemp. Reaching Gaspé, July 24, a large cross

was set up, with a shield attached, bearing the fleur-de-lis and the

motto: “Vive le Roi de France.” The natives, however, protested,

understanding that by setting up this _totem_ the strangers claimed

a country to which they had no right. Afterward two of the natives,

Taignoagny and Domagaya, were entrapped and made prisoners, while

presents sent to the tribe seemingly afforded satisfaction. The next

day the expedition left the land, and, sailing out once more into

the Gulf, they saw the great Island of Anticosti, when, coasting its

southern shore, they named its eastern cape St. Loys. Thence Cartier

steered over to the coast of Labrador, searching for a passage to

the west. On St. Peter’s day he was in the strait between Anticosti

and Labrador, which forms one entrance to Canada. He called it St.

Peter’s Channel; but he did not know whither it led, and accordingly

called a council. As the result, the season being now far advanced,

and the supplies running low, it was resolved to return to France, and

defer the examination of the strait to some more favorable occasion.

Cartier therefore left Anticosti, and reached White Sand Island, August

9; on the 15th, after hearing Mass, he passed through the Strait of

Belle Isle into the ocean, and laid his course for France. He had a

prosperous passage, and arrived at St. Malo early in September.

The main object of his voyage proved a failure, and a route to the

Indies was not discovered. He had approached close to the mouth of the

St. Lawrence, but was not aware of the fact. A correct knowledge of the

situation would have filled him with chagrin. As it was, he determined

to persevere; and upon reaching France he proceeded to prepare for

another voyage.

* * * * *

The representations made by the intrepid sailor had the desired

effect, and Admiral Chabot at once made known the condition of affairs

to Francis I., who signed a commission for Cartier, Oct. 30, 1534,

authorizing him to complete the exploration beyond Newfoundland. For

this purpose the King gave Cartier three ships,—the “Great Hermina,”

of about one hundred and twenty tons, to be commanded by Cartier; the

“Little Hermina,” of sixty tons, under Macé Jalobert; and a small

galley, the “Emerilon,” in charge of Jacques Maingart. The men for his

first expedition had been obtained with difficulty, the sailors of St.

Malo preferring voyages with more certain and solid results than any to

be gained in Cartier’s romantic quest. Accordingly the King authorized

him to impress criminals. In a letter to the Most Christian King,

Cartier advocated the enterprise as one destined to open new fields for

the activity of the Church, which was now beginning to suffer from the

effects of the Protestant Reformation.

On Whit-Sunday, 1535, the members of the expedition—which does not

appear to have carried a priest, but included a number of prominent

gentlemen—went, by direction of Cartier, to confession, and afterward

received the benediction of the bishop as they knelt in the choir of

the cathedral church of St. Malo. Three days later Cartier sailed.

Head-winds and violent storms opposed the little fleet, rendering

progress slow, and entailing much hardship. June 25 the ships separated

in a storm; but on July 7 the “Great Hermina,” after much tossing,

reached the Isle of Birds, on the northern coast of Newfoundland,—one

of the scenes of the previous year’s visit. The port of White Sand,

however, had been appointed the rendezvous, and thither, July 26,

Cartier went, being joined there by the rest of the fleet. Next,

crossing the strait to the Labrador coast, Cartier sailed westward,

reaching St. John’s River, August 10. He named it the Bay of St.

Lawrence,—a name afterward applied to the Gulf. August 12, he

consulted the two Indians captured the previous year, who diminished

his hope of finding a passage to the Indies, by showing that the

channel before him, named in honor of St. Peter, led to a river whose

banks rapidly contracted; while far within the interior the water was

shallow, navigation being obstructed by rapids. This, they likewise

said, was the entrance to the country of Canada. On August 18, sick at

heart by the failure to discover any passage through the continent,

Cartier sailed back to the northern shore. Three days later he named

the great island lying in the mouth of the Gulf, Assumption,[171] in

honor of the festival; and finally, disbelieving the Indians, and

hoping that the channel between Labrador and Anticosti opened to salt

water, he ordered the course to be laid toward the west, being led to

this determination by seeing many whales. Soon, however, the water

began to freshen; yet hoping, as did Champlain long after, that even

the fresh water might afford a highway to the Indies, he entered the

river, viewing the banks on either side, and making his way upward.

Erelong he saw the wonderful Saguenay pouring through its gloomy gorge,

scooped out of solid rock by ancient glaciers, and was tempted to

sail in between the lofty walls which flung down their solemn shadows

upon the deep and resistless stream. Here he met some timid natives

in canoes, engaged in hunting the seal. They fled, until they heard

the voices of his two savages, Taignoagny and Domagaya, when they

returned, and gave the French a hospitable reception. Without exploring

the Saguenay, Cartier returned to the main river, passing up to the

Isle aux Coudres, or Isle of Hazel-nuts, where he found the savages

engaged in capturing a marine monster called the “adhothoys,”—in form,

says the narrative, as shapely as a greyhound. This was the _Beluga

catadon_, the well-known white whale, whose bones are found in the

post-pliocene clay of the St. Lawrence. The manuscript of Allefonsce

says: “In the Canadian Sea there is one sort of fish very much like

a whale, almost as large, white as snow, and with a mouth like a

horse.” Continuing his ascent, Cartier met more of the natives, and at

last encountered the lord of the country, the well-known Donnacona,

who dwelt at Stadaconna (Quebec). The chief addressed the French

commander in a set oration, delivered in the native style with many

gesticulations and contortions.

Finally Cartier reached a large island, which he called Bacchus Island,

with reference to the abundance of vines; though afterward it was

given the name it now bears, the Island of Orleans. Here he anchored

his fleet, and went on in boats to find a convenient harbor. This he

discovered near Stadaconna, at the mouth of the river now known as the

St. Charles, calling it the harbor of the Holy Cross. On September

14 the ships were brought up. The French were received with great

rejoicing by all except Donnacona and the two natives, Taignoagny and

Domagaya; the latter had rejoined their old friends, and appeared

“changed in mind and purpose,” refusing to come to the ships. Donnacona

had discovered that Cartier wished to ascend the river to Hochelaga,

and he regarded this step as opposed to his personal interests.

Finally, however, a league of friendship was formed, when the two

natives returned on board, attended by no less than five hundred of the

inhabitants of Stadaconna. Still Donnacona persisted in his opposition

to Cartier’s proposed exploration; and finally dressed several members

of his tribe in the garb of devils, introducing them as delegates from

the god Cudragny, supposed to dwell at Hochelaga. The antics of these

performers did not intimidate Cartier, and accordingly, leaving a

sufficient force to guard the ships, he started with a pinnace and two

boats containing fifty men. It was now the middle of September, and the

Canadian forests were putting on their robes of autumnal glory. The

scenery was at its best, and the French were greatly impressed by the

beauty of the country. On the 28th the river suddenly expanded, and

it was called the Lake of Angoulême, in recognition of the birthplace

of Francis I. In passing out of the lake, the strength of the rapids

rendered it necessary to leave the pinnace behind; but with the two

boats Cartier went on; and, October 2, after a journey of thirteen

days, he landed on the alluvial ground close by the current now

called St. Mary, about three miles from Hochelaga. He was received by

throngs of the natives, who brought presents of corn-bread and fish,

showing every sign of friendship and joy. The next day Cartier went

with five gentlemen and twenty sailors to visit the people at their

houses, and to view “a certain mountain that is near the city.” They

met a chief, who received them with an address of welcome, and led

them to the town, situated among cultivated fields, and “joined to a

great mountain that is tilled round about and very fertile,” which

Cartier called Mount Royal, now contracted into Montreal. The town

itself is described in the narrative of Cartier’s voyage as circular

and cunningly built of wood, having a single gate, being fortified

with a gallery extending around the top of the wall. This was supplied

with ammunition, consisting of “stones and pebbles for the defence

of it.” With the Hochelagans it was the Age of Stone. Their mode of

life is well described in the narrative which, in the Italian version

of Ramusio, is accompanied by a plan of the town. Cartier and his

companions were freely brought into the public square, where the women

and maidens suddenly assembled with children in their arms, kissing

their visitors heartily, and “weeping for joy,” while they requested

Cartier to “touch” the children. Next appeared Agouhanna, the palsied

lord of Hochelaga, a man of fifty years, borne upon the shoulders of

nine or ten men. The chief welcomed Cartier, and desired him to touch

his shrunken limbs, evidently believing him to be a superior being.

Taking the wreath of royalty from his own head, he placed it upon

Cartier. Then the sick, the blind, the impotent, and the aged were

brought to be “touched;” for it seemed to them that “God was descended

and come down from heaven to heal them.” Moved with compassion, Cartier

recited a portion of the Gospel of St. John, made the sign of the

Cross, with prayer; afterward, service-book in hand, he “read all

the Passion of Christ, word by word,” ending with a distribution of

hatchets, knives, and trinkets, and a flourish of trumpets. The latter

made them all “very merry.” Next he ascended the Mount, and viewed the

distant prospect, being told of the extent of the river, the character

of distant tribes, and the resources of the country. This done, he

prepared for his return, and, amid the regrets of the natives, started

on the downward voyage.

In 1603, when Champlain reached the site of ancient Hochelaga, the

fortified city and its inhabitants had disappeared.[172] With a

narrative of Cartier in hand, he doubtless sought the imposing town

and its warlike and superior inhabitants, as later, on the banks of

the Penobscot, he inquired for the ancient Norumbega, celebrated by so

many navigators and historians. But Hochelaga, like its contemporary

capital on the great river of Maine, had disappeared, and the

Hochelagans were extinct.

On October 11 Cartier reached the Harbor of Holy Cross, where, during

his absence, the people had constructed a fort and had mounted

artillery. Donnacona and the two natives reappeared, and Cartier

visited the chief at Stadaconna, the people coming out in due form

to receive him. He found the houses comfortable after their fashion,

and well provided with food for the approaching winter. The scalps of

five human heads were stretched upon boughs, and these, Cartier was

told, were taken from their enemies, with whom they were in constant

warfare, as it would appear from their defences and from other signs.

The inhabitants of Stadaconna were nevertheless inclined to religion,

and earnestly desired to be baptized; when Cartier, who appears to have

been a good lay preacher, explained its importance,—though he could

not accede to their request, as he had with him neither priest nor

chrism. The next year he promised to provide both.

It would appear that at the outset Cartier had decided to winter in the

country and upon his return from Hochelaga preparations were made. His

experience, however, was somewhat sad, and nothing was gained by the

decision to remain, except some traffic.

In the month of December a pestilence broke out among the natives, of

whom finally the French came to see but little, as the Indians were

charged not to come near the fort. Soon afterward the same disease

attacked the French, proving to be a form of the scurvy, which at one

time reduced all but ten of Cartier’s company to a frightful condition,

while eventually no less than twenty-five died. In their distress

an image of Christ was set up on the shore. They marched thither,

and prostrated themselves upon the deep snow, chanting litanies and

penitential psalms, while Cartier himself vowed a pilgrimage to

Our Lady of Rocquemado. Nevertheless on that day Philip Rougemont

died. Cartier, being determined to leave nothing undone, ordered

a _post-mortem_ examination of the remains of this young man from

Amboise. This afforded no facts throwing light upon the disease, which

continued its ravages with still greater virulence, until the French

learned from the natives that they might be cured by a decoction made

from a tree called _ameda_. The effect of this medicine proved so

remarkable, that if “all the doctors of Montpelier and Louvain had been

there with all the drugs of Alexandria, they would not have done so

much in a year as that tree did in six days.” Winter finally wore away,

and in May, on Holy-Rood Day, Cartier set up a fair cross and the arms

of France, with the legend, “Franciscus Primus, Dei gratia Francorum

Rex regnat,” concluding the act by entrapping the King Donnacona, and

carrying him a prisoner on board his ship. The natives vainly offered a

ransom, but were pacified on being told that Cartier would return the

next year and bring back their king. Destroying one of his vessels, the

“Little Hermina,” on May 6, Cartier bade the people adieu, and sailed

down to a little port near the Isle of Orleans, going thence to the

Island of Hazel-Nuts, where he remained until the 16th, on account of

the swiftness of the stream. He was followed by the amazed savages,

who were still unwilling to part with their king. Receiving, however,

assurances from Donnacona himself that he would return in a year, they

affected a degree of satisfaction, thanked Cartier, gave him bundles of

beaver-skins, a chain of _esurguy_,[173] or wampum, and a red copper

knife from the Saguenay, while they obtained some hatchets in return.

He then set sail;[174] but bad weather forced him to return. He took

his final departure May 21, and soon reached Gaspé, next passing

Cape Prato, “the beginning of the Port of Chaleur.” On Ascension Day

he was at Brion Island. He sailed thence towards the main, but was

beaten back by head-winds. He finally reached the southern coast of

Newfoundland, giving names to the places he visited. At St. Peter’s

Island he met “many ships from France and Britain.” On June 16 he left

Cape Race, the southern point of Newfoundland, having on this voyage

nearly circumnavigated the coast of the island, and thus passed to

sea, making a prosperous voyage, and reached St. Malo July 6, 1536.

Though, according to the narrative, Cartier gave the name of St. Paul

to the north coast of Cape Breton, this appellation was on the map of

Maijolla, 1527, and that of Viegas, drawn in the year 1533. Manifestly

the narrative does Cartier some injustice.

* * * * *

Several years passed before anything more was done officially

respecting the exploration of the New Lands. Champlain assumes that

Cartier made bad representations of the country, and discouraged

effort. This view has been repeated without much examination. It is

clear that all were disappointed by finding no mines of precious

metals, as well as by the failure to discover a passage to the Indies;

yet for all this Cartier has been maligned. This appears to be so from

the statement found in the narrative of the third voyage, which opens

in a cheerful strain, the writer saying that “King Francis I. having

heard the report of Captain Jacques Cartier, his pilot-general, in

his two former voyages of discovery, as well by writing as by word of

mouth, respecting that which he had found and seen in the western parts

discovered by him in the ports of Canada and Hochelaga; and having seen

and talked with the people which the said Cartier had brought from

those countries, of whom one was King of Canada,” resolved to “send

Cartier, his pilot, thither again.” With the navigator he concluded

to associate Jean François de la Roche, Lord of Roberval, invested

with a commission as Lieutenant and Governor of Canada and Hochelaga.

Roberval was a gentleman of Picardy, highly esteemed in his province;

and, according to Charlevoix, he was sometimes styled by Francis I.

the “petty King of Vimeu.” Roberval was commissioned by Francis I. at

Fontainebleau, Jan. 15, 1540, and on February 6 took the oath in the

presence of Cardinal de Tournon. His subordinate, Cartier, was not

appointed until October 17 following, his papers being signed by Henry

the Dauphin on the 20th.

[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH OF THE DAUPHIN.]

The apparent object of this voyage is stated where the narrative

recites that it was undertaken “that they might discover more than was

done before in some voyages, and attain, if possible, to a knowledge

of the country of the Saguenay, whereof the people brought by Cartier,

as is declared, mentioned to the King that there were great riches and

very good lands.” The first and second voyages of Cartier may not have

attracted the attention of the Spaniards; but when the expedition of

1541 was in preparation Spain sought to interfere, as in the case of

Verrazano in 1523.[175] Francis anticipated this, Alexander VI. having

coolly given all America to Spain, as she eagerly claimed; and the

explanation was that the fleet was simply going to the poor region of

Baccalaos. The Spanish ambassador, knowing well that his master was too

poor to support his pretensions by force of arms, finally came to the

conclusion that the French could do no harm, while others prophesied a

failure.[176]

To carry out the voyage, a sum of money was placed at the disposal of

Roberval, who agreed with Cartier to build and equip five[177] vessels.

Soon the shipyards of St. Malo resounded with the din of labor,

and the Breton carpenters promptly fulfilled their task. Roberval,

however, had not in the mean time completed his preparations, and

yet, having express orders from the King not to delay, Cartier, with

the approval of Roberval, set sail with three or more ships, May 23,

1541. He encountered a succession of storms for three months, having

less than thirty hours of fair wind in all that time. One ship, under

the Viscount of Beaupré, kept company with Cartier, but the rest were

scattered. The fleet assembled at Carpunt, in Newfoundland, waiting in

vain for Roberval. Cartier accordingly went on, and reached the Harbor

of Holy Cross, August 23. The savages hailed him with joy, and inquired

for their chief, Donnacona, and the other captives. They were informed

that Donnacona had died in France, where he had received the faith and

been baptized, while the rest had married, and stayed there as great

lords, whereas in fact all except a little girl had died.[178] Agona,

who had ruled during the interregnum, was not at all dissatisfied, as

it left him invested with kingship; yet, as a compliment, he took the

crown of tanned leather and _esurguy_ from his own head, and placed

it upon Cartier’s, whose wrists he also adorned with his bracelets,

showing signs of joy. This, however, was mere dissimulation. Next,

Cartier took his fleet to a harbor four leagues nearer Quebec, where

he built a fort called Charlesbourg Royal. On the 2d of September Macé

Jalobert, his brother-in-law, and Etienne Noel, his nephew, were sent

back to France with two of his ships, to report the non-arrival of

Roberval. Leaving Beaupré in command at Charlesbourg Royal, Cartier

ascended the St. Lawrence, visiting on the way a lord of Hochelay. In

his previous voyage this chief had proved sincere, informing him of

the meditated treachery of Taignoagny and Domagaya. He now bestowed

upon him “a cloak of Paris red,” with yellow facings and tin buttons

and bells. Going on, Cartier passed Hochelaga, and attempted to ascend

the rapids, two of which he actually stemmed. Arriving at Hochelaga,

he found that the chief had gone to Quebec to plot against him with

Agona. Returning to Charlesbourg, he passed the winter, seeing little

of the natives. In the spring, having gathered a quantity of quartz

crystals, which he fancied were diamonds, and some thin scales of metal

supposed to be gold, he sailed for France. In the Harbor of St. John,

Newfoundland, Hakluyt says, he met Roberval, then on his way to Canada.

The “gold” was tried in a furnace, and “found to be good.” Cartier

reported the country rich and fruitful; but when ordered by Roberval

to return, he pleaded his inability to stand against the savages with

so small a number of men; while in Hakluyt we read that “hee and his

company, moued as it seemeth with ambition, because they would haue all

the glory of the discouerie of those partes themselues, stole privately

away the next night from us, and, without taking their leaues, departed

home for Bretainye.”

This, however, appears to be wrong; as at the time he is represented as

meeting Roberval at Newfoundland his chief must have been in Canada,

he having left France Aug. 22, 1541. Hakluyt’s informant was confused,

and the ships met by Roberval at Newfoundland may have been those

two despatched by Cartier to France under Jallobert and Noel during

the previous autumn, or else Cartier on his way home in June met

Sainterre.[179]

Jean François de la Roche, Lord of Roberval, in connection with

Cartier, was commissioned for his expedition by a royal patent, Jan.

15, 1540. His fleet consisted of three tall ships and a company of two

hundred persons, including women and gentlemen of quality. Sainterre

was his lieutenant, and Jean Allefonsce his pilot-general. According

to Hakluyt, he sailed from Rochelle, April 14, 1542,—more than a

year after the time originally appointed,—reaching St. John’s,

Newfoundland, June 8, where he found seventeen fishing-vessels. While

delayed here, Hakluyt says, Cartier appeared in the harbor, and

afterward left secretly, as already stated, to return to France. As a

matter of fact, however, Roberval sailed from Honfleur, Aug. 22, 1541.

We must not be misled, therefore, where Hakluyt says that on the last

day of June, 1542, having composed a quarrel between the French and

Portuguese fishermen, he sailed on his voyage through the Gulf. This

he must have done during the preceding autumn. Yet, whenever he may

have ascended the St. Lawrence, Roberval reached the Isle of Orleans

in safety, and found a good harbor. Hakluyt says that at the end of

July he landed his stores, and began to fortify above Quebec at France

Royal;[180] if it was in July, it must have been July, 1542. Roberval,

possibly, reached his winter-quarters in 1541, when it was too late to

fortify. Hakluyt, having been misinformed on the expedition, supposed

that Cartier and Roberval were not together in Canada; but there is

much uncertainty in any conclusion.

A strong, elevated, and beautiful situation was selected by Roberval,

with “two courtes of buildings, a great toure, and another of fourtie

or fiftie foote long; wherein there were diuers chambers, an hall, a

kitchine, houses of office, sellers high and lowe, and neere vnto were

an oven and milles, and a stoue to warme men in, and a well before the

house.”

Hakluyt says that, September 14, Roberval sent back to France two

ships under Sainterre and Guincourt, bearing tidings to the King, and

requesting information respecting the value of Cartier’s “diamonds.” It

would appear, however, that these vessels were sent late in 1541, for

the reason that Jan. 26, 1542, Francis I. ordered Sainterre to go to

the rescue of Roberval,—the language of the order indicating that he

had already been out to Canada. On preparing for the winter, Roberval,

according to Hakluyt, found his provisions scanty. Still, having fish

and porpoises, he passed the season, though the bad food bred disease,

and not less than fifty of the company died. The people were vicious

and insubordinate; but the “Little King” was equal to the occasion,

dealing out even and concise justice, laying John of Nantes in irons,

whipping both men and women soundly, and hanging Michael Gaillon,—“by

which means they lived in quiet.”

The account of Hakluyt ends abruptly; yet he states that June 5, 1543,

Roberval went on an expedition to explore above Quebec, appointing

July 1 as the time of his return. If he did not appear then, the

thirty persons left behind were authorized to sail for France, while

he would remain in the country. What followed is invested with more

or less uncertainty, as we have no authority except Hakluyt, who says

that in an expedition up the river eight men were drowned, and one

“boate” lost; while, June 19, word came from Roberval to stay the

departure from France Roy until July 22. To this statement Hakluyt

adds, “the rest of the voyage is wanting.” His account of both Roberval

and Cartier’s operations are hardly to be relied upon, since he was

so badly informed. The circumstances under which Roberval returned to

France may perhaps never be known; yet it is certain that Cartier went

out to bring him home some time in the year 1543. He did not leave on

this voyage until after March 25, as he was present at a baptism in St.

Malo on that day, while he had returned before February 17, 1544, on

which date, as Longrais has discovered recently among the documents,

he was a witness in court at St. Malo. The subject will be referred to

again.

* * * * *

At this point it will be proper to give some account of the personal

operations of Jehan, or Jean, Allefonsce, the pilot of Roberval. He

was born at Saintonge, a village of Cognac, and was mortally wounded

in a naval combat which took place near the Harbor of Rochelle, having

followed the sea during a period of forty-one years. He appears to have

been engaged in two special explorations,—one carrying him to the

north, and the other to the vicinity of Massachusetts Bay.

Of the first expedition—that connected with the Saguenay or

vicinity—we have no account in the narrative which covers the voyage

of Roberval. Father Le Clercq, however, says: “The Sire Roberval

writes that he undertook some considerable voyages to the Saguenay and

several other rivers. It was he who sent Allefonsce, a very expert

pilot of Saintonge, to Labrador to find a passage to the Indies, as

was hoped. But not being able to carry out his designs, on account of

the heights of ice that stopped his passage, he was obliged to return

to M. de Roberval with only this advantage, of having discovered the

passage which is between the Isle of Newfoundland and the Great Land

of the north by the fifty-second degree.”[181] Le Clercq gives no

authority for his statement, and one writer[182] discredits it, for

the reason that Allefonsce is made to “discover” the passage between

Newfoundland and Labrador. It is probable, however, that Le Clercq, or

his authority, meant no more by the term “discover” than to explore,

as the Strait of Belle Isle was at that period as well known as Cape

Breton. Allefonsce’s narrative and maps do not show that he explored

the Saguenay.

It can hardly be questioned that a voyage was made by Allefonsce along

the Atlantic coast. The precise date, however, cannot be fixed. His

_Cosmographie_ proves that he had a personal knowledge of the country.

The voyage might have been made on some one of the ships which returned

to France while Roberval was in the country. Failing to discover any

passage to the Indies, Allefonsce may have run down the Atlantic

coast, hoping to find some hitherto neglected opening. At all events,

when he visited the coast he found a great bay in latitude forty-two,

apparently Massachusetts Bay. The original notice is found in his

_Cosmographie_, now preserved in the Bibliothèque nationale, Paris. It

runs: “These lands reach to Tartary; and I think that it is the end

of Asia,[183] according to the roundness of the world. And for this

purpose it would be well to have a small vessel of seventy tons, in

order to discover the coast of Florida; for I have been at a bay as far

as forty-two degrees, between Norumbega and Florida, but I have not

seen the end, and do not know whether it extends any farther.”[184] The

belief in a western passage was after all very hard to give up, and

Champlain, in the next century, was consumed by the idea.

* * * * *

In closing this part of the subject, we have to inquire concerning the

outcome of the costly and laborious efforts of Cartier and Roberval

under Francis I. Some popular writers would lead us to suppose that

subsequent to the return of the expedition of 1543 the region of

the Gulf and River of St. Lawrence were deserted.[185] Gosselin,

in his _Documents relating to the Marine of Normandy_, shows that

the explorations of Cartier were attended and followed by active

operations conducted by private individuals. During the first years

of the sixteenth century, inspired by the example of Bethencourt, in

connection with the Canaries, the seaport towns of France showed great

enterprise. After the return of Verrazano, however, much discouragement

was felt, nor did the voyages of 1534-1536 stimulate so large a degree

of activity as might have been expected; but in 1540 all the maritime

towns were alive to the importance of the New Lands.[186] In that year,

as we have already seen, such was the scarcity of sailors, owing to the

prosecution of remunerative fisheries, that the authorities of St. Malo

were obliged to order that no vessel should leave port until Cartier

had secured a crew. In 1541 the prospect of the settlement of Canada

under the French gave such a stimulus to merchants, that in the months

of January and February, 1541, 1542, no less than sixty ships went “to

fish for cod in the New Lands.”[187] Gosselin, who had examined a great

number of the ancient records, says: “In 1543, 1544, and 1545, this

ardor was sustained; and during the months of January and February,

from Havre and Rouen, and from Dieppe and Honfleur, about two ships

left every day.”[188]

In 1545 no ship of the King went to Canada, and a sense of insecurity

prevailed, as the Spaniards and Portuguese at Newfoundland were ever

ready to make trouble; but in 1560 no less than thirty ships left the

little ports of Jumièges, Vatteville, and La Bouille, “to make the

voyage to the New Lands;”[189] while at this period the tonnage of

the vessels engaged rose from seventy to one hundred and fifty tons.

In 1564 the French Government was engaged in New France, and April 18

of that year the King’s Receiver-General, Guillaume Le Beau, bought

of Robert Gouel, as attested by the notaries of Rouen, a variety of

material, “to be carried into New France, whither the King would

presently send on his service.”[190]

On the seventh of the same month Le Beau paid four hundred livres

for arms and accoutrements necessary for the “French infantry,”

which “it pleased the King to send presently into his New France for

its defence.”[191] This shows that the idea of colonization was not

abandoned, and that the King asserted his rights there. He was no doubt

accustomed to send cruisers to Canada to protect French interests,

as the English at an early period sent ships of war to the coast of

Iceland to protect fishermen and traders.[192]

In 1583 Stephen Bellinger, a friend of Hakluyt, being in the service

of Cardinal Bourbon, of Rouen, visited Cape Breton and the coasts to

the south.[193] In 1577 and 1578 commissions were issued by Henry

III. to the Marquis de la Roche for a colony;[194] and Hakluyt says

that in 1584 the Marquis was cast away in an attempt to carry out

his scheme.[195] In 1587 the grandnephew of Cartier was in Canada,

evidently engaged in regular trade.[196] Beyond question communication

was maintained with Canada until official colonization was again taken

up in 1597.[197] The efforts of Francis I. in sending out Verrazano,

Cartier, and Roberval were by no means thrown away, and we must take

for what it is worth the statement of Alexander in his _Encouragement

to Colonies_, where (p. 36) he says that the French in America effected

more “by making a needless ostentation, that the World should know they

had beene there, then that they did continue still to inhabit there.”

CRITICAL ESSAY ON THE SOURCES OF INFORMATION.

LITTLE is known of the personal history of Jacques Cartier, though

Cunat discovered several points relating to his ancestry. It appears

that one Jehan Cartier married Guillemette Baudoin; and that of their

six children, Jamet, or Jacques, was the oldest, having been born Dec.

4, 1458. Marrying in turn Jeffeline Jansart, he had by her a son,

Dec. 31, 1494. This son, up to a recent day, was held to be the great

navigator; but Longrais has rendered it almost certain that he was not.

Like Verrazano, Allefonsce, and others, he appears to have done

something as a privateer; and the Spanish ambassador in France,

reporting the expedition of Cartier and Roberval, Dec. 17, 1541, spoke

of “el corsario Jacques Cartier.”[198]

At an early age Cartier was wedded to Catharine des Granches, daughter

of Jacques des Granches, the constable of St. Malo, this being

considered a brilliant marriage. After retiring from the sea, he lived

in the winter at his house in St. Malo, adjoining the Hospital of St.

Thomas, and in the summer at his manor on the outskirts of the town at

Limoilou.[199] The name of Des Granches appears in connection with the

mountains on the shores of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Cartier, so far

as known, had no children. At least Cunat’s researches, supported by

the local tradition, show that Manat had no authority now recognized

for saying that in 1665 he had a lineal descendant in one Harvée

Cartier.[200]

Following Verrazano, we have the earliest notice of French visitations

to the coast in the statement of Herrera,[201] that in 1526 the

Breton, Nicolas Don, pursued the fisheries at Baccalaos. In 1527 Rut,

as reported in Purchas,[202] says that eleven sail of Normans and

one of Bretons were at St. John, Newfoundland.[203] According to

Lescarbot,[204] who gives no authority, the Baron de Léry landed cattle

on the Isle of Sable in 1528.[205]

Next in the order of French voyages we reach those of Cartier. The

narrative of his first voyage appeared originally in the _Raccolta_,

etc., of Ramusio, printed at Venice in 1556.[206] It was translated

from the Italian into English by John Florio, and appeared under

the title, _A Short and Briefe Narration of the Two Navigations

and Discoveries to the Northweast Partes called Newe Fraunce_,

London, 1580.[207] This was adopted by Hakluyt, and printed in his

_Navigations_, 1600.[208] Another account of this voyage appeared in

French, printed at Rouen, 1598, having been written originally in

a _langue étrangere_. It has been supposed very generally that the

“strange language” was Italian, and that it was a translation from

Ramusio;[209] but this opinion is questioned.[210] Another narrative

of the voyage has been found and published as an original account by

Cartier.[211] In the Preface to the volume the Editor sets forth his

reasons for this opinion. It is noticeable that each of these three

versions is characterized by an obscurity to which attention has been

called.[212] Nearly all the facts of the first voyage, handled, like

the rest of his voyages, by so many writers, come from one of these

three versions.[213] The patent for the voyage, as in the case of the

voyage of Verrazano, is not known.

The narrative of the second voyage was published at Paris in 1545.[214]

Ramusio[215] accompanies the narrative of the first voyage with an

account of the second, also in Italian. Three manuscript versions of

the narrative are preserved in the Bibliotheque Nationale, and are

described by Harrisse in his _Notes_.[216] Hakluyt[217] appears to

follow Ramusio.[218] The patents for the second voyage will be found in

Lescarbot (_Nouvelle France_), who used in his account of Cartier what

is known as the Roffet text, though he abridges and alters somewhat;

and he in turn was followed by Charlevoix.

For the third voyage of Cartier, unfortunately, we have only a few

facts in addition to the fragment preserved by Hakluyt,[219] which ends

with events at the close of September, 1541. An account of the voyage

of Roberval is added thereto.[220] The commission of Cartier is found

in Lescarbot’s _Nouvelle France_.[221] All that was formerly known

was taken from Hakluyt; but facts that somewhat recently have come to

light, though few, are nevertheless important, proving that Hakluyt’s

information respecting Roberval was poor, like that which he gives of

the voyage of Rut (1527). Rut’s voyage was tolerably well understood

by Purchas, who wrote after Hakluyt. Bancroft, in his _History of

the United States_,[222] writes on the subject of Cartier as he wrote

forty-nine years earlier;[223] while nearly all historical writers,

whether famous or obscure, have written in a similar way. They have

been misled by Hakluyt. The statement that Cartier, on his way home

in June, 1542, encountered Roberval at Newfoundland, and deserted him

in the night, is not in keeping with his character, and is rendered

improbable by the fact that in the previous autumn Roberval sailed for

Canada. All things, so far as known, indicate that a good understanding

existed between the two commanders, and that circumstances alone

prevented the accomplishment of larger results. Certainly, if Cartier

had failed in his duty, history would have given some record of the

fact. Francis I. would not have employed any halting, half-hearted man

who was trying to discourage exploration. Let us here, then, endeavor

to epitomize the operations of Roberval and Cartier:—

Jan. 15, 1540, Roberval was appointed lieutenant-general and

commander.[224] February 6 he took the oath,[225] followed the next

day by letters-patent confirming those of January 15.[226] February

27 Roberval appointed Paul d’Angilhou, known as Sainterre, his

lieutenant.[227] March 9 the Parliament of Rouen authorized Roberval

to take certain classes of criminals for the voyage.[228] October

17 Francis I. appointed Jacques Cartier captain-general and chief

pilot.[229] October 28 Prince Henry, the Dauphin, ordered certain

prisoners to be sent to Cartier for the voyage.[230] November 3

additional criminals, to the number of fifty, were ordered for the

expedition.[231] December 12 the King complained that the expedition

was delayed.[232] May 23, 1541, Cartier sailed with five ships.[233]

July 10 Chancellor Paget informs the Parliament of Rouen that “the King

considers it very strange that Roberval has not departed.”[234] August

18 Roberval writes from Honfleur that he will leave in four days.[235]

Aug. 22, 1541, Roberval sailed from Honfleur.[236] In the autumn

of 1541, Roberval, on his way to Canada, meets at St. John’s,[237]

Newfoundland, Jallobert and Noel, sailing by order of Cartier to

France. Immediately on his arrival at Quebec, autumn of 1541, Roberval

sends Sainterre to France.[238] Jan. 26, 1542, Francis I. orders

Sainterre, who has already “made the voyage,” to sail with two ships

“to succour, support, and aid the said Lord Roberval with provisions

and other things of which he has very great need and necessity.”[239]

During the summer of 1542 Roberval explores and builds France Roy.[240]

Sept. 9, 1542, Roberval pardons Sainterre at France Roy, in the

presence of Jean Allefonsce, for mutiny.[241] Oct. 21, 1542, Cartier

is in St. Malo and present at a baptism, having spent seventeen

months on the voyage.[242] Roberval spends the winter of 1542-1543

at France Roy.[243] March 25, 1543, Cartier present at a baptism in

St. Malo.[244] In the summer of 1543 Cartier sails on a voyage which

occupies eight months,[245] and brings Roberval home, leaving Canada

late in the season, and running unusual risk of his freight (_péril de

nauleaige_).[246] April 3, 1544, Cartier and Roberval are summoned to

appear before the King.[247]

This, so far as our present knowledge goes, formed the end of Cartier’s

seafaring. Thereafter, without having derived any material financial

benefit from his great undertakings, Cartier, as the Seigneur of

Limoilou, dwelt at his plain manor-house on the outskirts of St. Malo,

where he died, greatly honored and respected, about the year 1555.[248]

* * * * *

Charlevoix affirms that Roberval made another attempt to colonize

Canada in 1549;[249] Thevet says that he was murdered in Paris: at all

events he soon passed from sight.[250]

There is no evidence to prove that Cartier gave any name to the country

which he explored. The statement found at the end of Hakluyt’s version

of the second voyage,[251] to the effect that the Newfoundlands “were

by him named New France,” originated with the translator. It is not

given in connection with the text of Ramusio, nor in the French edition

of 1545, though that _Relation_ (p. 46) employs the language, “Appellée

par nous la nouvelle France.” In the same folio we find the writer

stating of Cape St. Paul, “Nous nommasmes le cap de Sainct Paul,”

though the name had been given at an early period, appearing upon the

Maijolla map of 1527.

“Canada” was the name which Cartier found attached to the land,[252]

and there is no evidence that he attempted to displace it. It is

indeed said, in Murphy’s _Voyage of Verrazzano_,[253] that the name

“Francisca” was due to Cartier. He says, “This name Francisca, or

the _French Land_,”—found on a map in the Ptolemy printed at Basle

in 1540,—was “due to the French under Jacques Cartier, and which

could properly belong to no other exploration of the French.” This

statement was made in rebuttal of that by Brevoort in his _Verrazano

the Navigator_ (p. 141), where he says that “the first published map

containing traces of Verrazano’s exploration is in the Ptolemy of

Basle, 1530, which appeared four years before the French renewed their

attempts at American exploration. It shows the western sea without a

name, and the land north of it called Francisca.” As it appears, there

is no edition of Ptolemy bearing date of 1530; yet the student is

sufficiently correct in referring the name “Francisca” to the voyage of

Verrazano, especially as the Maijollo map, 1527, applies “Francesca”

to North America, this map having been made only three years after the

voyage of Verrazano, performed in 1524. Evidently, however, Verrazano

was not more anxious than Cartier about any name, since on the map of

his brother Hieronymus da Verrazano (1529), this region is called “Nova

Gallia, sive Yucatania.”

Nor did Roberval attempt to name the country, while the commission

given him by the King does not associate the name of Francis or any

new name therewith. The misunderstanding on this point is now cleared

up.[254]

Cartier did not give any name to the Gulf, simply applying the name

of St. Lawrence to what may have been the St. John’s River, on the

Labrador coast, where he chanced to be on the festival of that saint in

1535. Gomara thus writes in 1555: “A great river, named San Lorenço,

which some consider an arm of the sea. It has been navigated two

hundred leagues up, on which account many call it the Straits of the

Three Brothers (_los tres hermanos_). Here the water forms a square

gulf, which extends from San Lorenço to the point of Baccallaos, more

than two hundred leagues.”[255]

* * * * *

Little is known at present of the personal history of Jean Allefonsce.

D’Avezac, in the _Bulletin de géographie_,[256] attempted to give

an account of the man and his work; and Margry, in his _Navigations

Françaises_, added substantial information. At one time he was claimed

by the Portuguese as of their nation, because he voyaged to Brazil; but

his French origin is now abundantly proved out of the book published by

Jean de Marnef in 1559, entitled _Les voyages avantureux du Capitaine

du Alfonce Saintongeois_. It is a small volume in quarto, numbering

sixty-eight leaves, the verso of the last one bearing the epilogue:

“End of the present book, composed and ordered [?] by Jan Alphonce,

an experienced pilot in things narrated in this book, a native of the

country of Xaintonge, near the city of Cognac. Done at the request of

Vincent Aymard, merchant of the country of Piedmont, Maugis Vumenot,

merchant of Honfleur, writing for him.”

Allefonsce appears to have been of a brave, adventurous, and somewhat

haughty spirit. We are even told that he was once imprisoned at

Poitiers by royal orders.[257] He was considered a man of ability, and

was trusted on account of his great skill. In Hakluyt[258] it is said,

“There is a pardon to be seene for the pardoning of _Monsieur de saine

terre_, Lieutenant of the sayd _Monsieur de Roberval_, giuen in Canada

in presence of the sayde _Iohn Alphonse_.”

The sailor of Saintonge met his death in a naval engagement, though

most writers appear to have overlooked the fact. It is indicated in a

sonnet written by his eulogist, Melin Saint-Gelais, and prefixed to

the first edition of the _Voyages avantureux_, 1559. The allusion was

pointed out by Harrisse in his _Notes sur la Nouvelle France_, Paris,

1872 (p. 8), indicating that this event must have taken place before

March 7, 1557,—the date of the imprimatur of the edition of 1559.[259]

Mr. Brevoort, in his _Verrazano the Navigator_, quoting Barcia’s

Ensayo, etc., Madrid, 1723, fol. 58, shows that he fought Menendez, the

Spaniard, near the reef of Rochelle, and was mortally wounded.[260]

There is no true connection between the manuscript of Allefonsce,

now preserved in the Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris, catalogued under

Secalart, and the volume of _Voyages avantureux_ which bears his

name. This latter work we owe, in some not understood sense, to the

enterprise of a publisher who brought it out after the old mariner’s

death. The erroneous character of certain of its statements excited

the criticism of Lescarbot;[261] yet several descriptions of our coast

are recognizable, and very interesting. In this printed book the

matter relating to the North Atlantic coast occupies only about three

pages,—the chief points for which were taken, it appears, from the

manuscript of Allefonsce, though several particulars not found in his

manuscript are given.

The manuscript itself must be judged leniently, as Secalart was

concerned in the composition, and appears to have written some portions

from the notes of Allefonsce.[262] The part of the _Cosmographie_

applying to the North Atlantic coast begins with a description of the

Island of St. John and Cape Breton. Three points south of Cape Breton,

if not a fourth, are defined in connection with that cape. We read:

“Turning to the Isle of St. John, called Cape Breton, the outermost

part of which is in the ocean in 45° from the Arctic pole, I say Cape

of St. John, called Cape Breton, and the Cape of the Franciscans, are

northeast and southwest, and there is in the course one hundred and

forty leagues; and here it makes a cape called the Cape of Norumbega.

The said cape is by 41° from the height of the Arctic pole.” For the

writer to call Cape Breton by another name is consistent with old

usage.[263] Where, however, it is said, “here it makes a cape,” the

language is obscure, as the writer seems to mean that on this coast

there is a cape between the Franciscan Cape and Cape Breton, since on

the map the Franciscan Cape is placed south of the Bay of the Isles,

which the description places south of the Cape of Norumbega. The latter

cape is not laid down on the map; but we have there the River of

Norumbega, north of which is “Une partie de la Coste de la Norombegue,”

while south of the river is “Terra de la Franciscaine.” The Cape of

Norumbega should therefore have been marked on the map at the southern

extremity of the Norumbega coast, near the Bay of the Isles. “Cap de la

Franciscaine” would then stand for Cape Cod. If this interpretation is

correct, the clause, “the said cape is by 41° from the height of the

Arctic pole,” would denote the Franciscan cape.[264]

The next descriptive paragraph gives a clear idea of the region south

of Cape Norumbega: “Beyond the Cape of Noroveregue descends the river

of said Noroveregue, about twenty-five leagues from the cape. The

said river is more than forty leagues wide at its entrance, and

continues inwardly thus wide full thirty or forty leagues, and is

all full of islands that extend quite ten or twelve leagues into the

sea, and is very dangerous on account of rocks and shoals.”[265] Here

we have a clear representation of the Penobscot region, the writer

taking the bay for the entrance to the river, as others did in later

times. He also says that “fifteen leagues within this river is a

city called Norombergue.” According to the old notion, he thought

the Norumbega River extended to Canada, as in the map of Ramusio,

which is substantially true. Taking up his account of the coast, the

writer says: “From the River of Norombergue the coast runs to the

west-southwest quite two hundred leagues, to a large bay which enters

the land about twenty leagues, and is full twenty-nine leagues wide;

and within this gulf there are four islands joined the one to the

other. The entrance to the Gulf is 38° from the height of the Arctic

pole, and the said isles are in 39 and a half degrees. And I have not

seen the end of this Gulf, and I do not know whether it passes beyond.”

Here he does not appear to be making an allusion to the great bay in

42° N. (_ante_, p. 60), but he has now reached the vicinity of the

Franciscan Cape, or Cape Cod, and speaks of the mouth of Long Island

Sound and contiguous openings, in connection with the great islands

that stretch along the coast southwest of Cape Cod. He does not here

mention the Franciscan Cape, before alluded to, distant from the “Cape

of St. John, called the Cape of the Franciscans,” one hundred and

forty leagues, but he indicates its situation by the islands and the

Sound lying to the southward; while in its place it will be observed

that the printed _Cosmographie_ also identifies the region by means

of the islands, and shows that the Franciscan Cape at one point was

high land,—evidently what is now known as the Highland of Cape Cod,

which, as the geological formation indicates, was even higher in the

time of Allefonsce. He continues: “From this gulf the coast turns

west-northwest about forty-six leagues, and makes here a great river of

Fresh water, and there is at its entrance an island of sand. The said

island is 39° from the height of the Arctic pole.” He is now speaking

of the region of the Hudson and Sandy Hook, though the latitudes are

incorrect, as was usual with writers of that time; while the courses

and distances are equally confused. Nevertheless we have a general and

recognizable description of the main features of the coast between

Cape Breton and Sandy Hook, though in the printed _Cosmographie_,

which is very brief, the island of sand is not mentioned. Therefore,

feeling certain of the correctness of our position, minor errors and

omissions may be left to take care of themselves. The principal points,

Cape Breton, Cape Sable, Cape Cod, and the Hudson, are unmistakably

indicated in the _routier_, though in the maps of Allefonsce, as in

most of the maps of the day, essential features are not delineated

with any approach to accuracy, the great peninsula of Nova Scotia,

terminating in Cape Sable, for instance, having no recognizable

definition. Yet he dwells upon the fierceness of the tides, and says

that when the strong northeast winds blow, the seas “roar horribly.”

This is precisely the case on the shoals of Georges and Nantucket,

where the meeting of waves and tides, even in a dead calm, produces an

uproar that is sometimes deafening.

At this point we may obtain a confirmation of the manuscript

description from the printed work. The account says: “Having passed the

Isle of Saint Jehan, the coast turns to the west and west-southwest as

far as the River Norombergue, newly discovered[266] by the Portuguese,

which is in the thirtieth degree.” After describing the river and its

inhabitants, he says: “Thence the coast turns south-southwest more than

two hundred leagues, as far as a cape which is high land (_un cap qui

est haute terre_), and has a great island of low land and three or four

little islands;”[267] after which he drops the subject and hastens

down the coast to the West Indies. Here, however, we have the same cape

that we find in the manuscript, which is there called the Franciscan

Cape, or our present Cape Cod, beyond which are the islands Nantucket,

Martha’s Vineyard, and the Elizabeth group, joined one to the other

almost like beads on a string, as we see them on the modern map.

Here, however, it should be pointed out that, apparently in the

lifetime of Francis I., the portion of _Voyages avantureux_ which

describes the North American coast was turned into metrical form by

Jehan Maillard, “poet royal;” and thus, long before Morrell wrote

his poetical description of New England, our coast from Newfoundland

to Sandy Hook was described in French verse, Maillard being the

first writer to pay a tribute of the kind.[268] This person was a

contemporary of Allefonsce and Cartier, and possibly he was connected

with Roberval, as Parmenius, the learned Hungarian of Buda, was

connected with Sir Humphrey Gilbert in his expedition of 1585, who

went for the express purpose of singing the praise of Norumbega in

Latin verse.[269] In his dedication he refers to Cartier. These verses,

like the printed book, contain the points which are not made in the

manuscript of Allefonsce.[270]

Again, in our manuscript we find the writer going down the coast from

Sandy Hook to Florida, describing, in a somewhat confused way, Cape

Henlopen and Delaware Bay, with its white cliff (_fallaise blanche_),

so conspicuous at the entrance to-day. Thus both the printed book and

the manuscript make three divisions of the coast between Cape Breton

and Florida, and show a general knowledge of essential features.

Hakluyt[271] gives a section from the original work of Allefonsce, to

which he appears to have had access. The heading runs: “Here followeth

the course from Belle Isle, Carpont, and the Grand Bay in Newfoundland,

vp the riuer of Canada for the space of 230 leagues, obserued by Iohn

Alphonse of Xanctoigne, chiefe Pilot to Monsieur Roberual, 1542.”

This piece was translated from the French, and in one place Hakluyt

makes Allefonsce say: “By the nature of the climate the lands toward

Hockelaga are still better and better, and more fruitful; and this land

is fit for figges and peares. I think that gold and silver will be

found here.” This, however, is a mistranslation, or at least it does

not agree with the manuscript in the Bibliothèque Nationale, which may

be rendered, “These lands, extending to Hochelaga, are much better

and warmer than those of Canada, and this land of Hochelaga extends

to Figuier and Peru, in which silver and gold abound.”[272] Under the

direction of the Quebec Literary and Historical Society, the English

version found in Hakluyt was turned back into French, as the existence

of the Paris manuscript was not known to the editors; and in the

_Voyages des déscouvertes au Canada_ (p. 86) we read: “Et cette terre

peut produire des Figuee et des Poires.” In this, however, they were

encouraged by the statement found in all three versions of the first

voyage of Cartier, which say that at Gaspé the land produced figs.

Allefonsce confines his description chiefly to the route pursued by

him in his voyage with Roberval, though he speaks of the neighborhood

of Gaspé and Chaleur; while he calls the Island of Assumption

“L’Ascentyon.” He also says of the Saguenay, “Two or three leagues

within the entrance it begins to grow wider and wider, and it seems to

be an arm of the sea; and I think that the same runs into the Sea of

Cathay.”[273]

We turn finally to the cartology of the voyages under consideration,

which, however, it is not proposed to treat here at much length, the

subject being well-nigh inexhaustible.[274]

In the order of the Court of St. Malo, already referred to,[275] made

on the remonstrance of Cartier, we find that in March, 1533, he was

charged with the responsibility of a voyage to the New Lands, the

route selected being that of “the strait of the Bay of the Castle,”

now the Strait of Belle Isle. The existence of the Bay of St. Lawrence

was evidently known to Cartier. He must have learned something of the

region through the contemporary fishing voyages of the French. He

could have inferred nothing, however, from the map of Ruysch, 1508,

which made Newfoundland a part of Asia; though the Reinel map, 1505,

and the Portuguese map (1520), given by Kunstmann, show the Straits

of Belle Isle and the entrance to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, between

Cape Breton and Newfoundland. The anonymous map of 1527, published

by Dr. Kohl, with the Ribero map (1529), show both straits; though

when Ribero copied that map and made some additions, he substantially

closed them up.[276] On the Verrazano map of 1529 the straits were

indicated as open. The Maijolla map of 1527, though a Verrazano map,

gives a deep indenture, but no indication of an opening beyond. It was,

nevertheless, clear enough to Cartier at this time that the straits

entering north and south of Newfoundland led either to another strait

or to a large bay. Maps of the Gulf must have existed in Dieppe at the

period of his voyage, though, owing to the desire of the various cities

to gain a monopoly of the New World trade, he may not have obtained

much information from that Norman port. Cartier seems to have made maps

representing his explorations. There is a brief description of one map

contained in the letter of Jacques Noel, his grandnephew, written from

St. Malo in 1587 to Mr. John Grote, at Paris. In this map Canada was

well delineated, but it has now disappeared.[277]

What may have been known popularly of Newfoundland at the time of

Cartier’s first voyage is shown by the Maijolla map (1527), the map of

Verrazano (1529), and the map of Gaspar Viegas (1534).[278] The latter

shows a part of Newfoundland, and the Cape Breton entrance to the Gulf

of St. Lawrence is simply the mouth of a _cul-de-sac_, into which empty

two streams,—“R. dos Poblas” and “Rio pria,”—indicating that the

Portuguese may have entered the Gulf. On the New Brunswick coast is

“S. Paulo,”—a name that Cartier is erroneously represented as giving

in 1535, at which time Cartier found the name in use, probably seeing

it on some chart. The Island of Cape Breton is laid down distinctly,

but we can hardly make “Rio pria” do duty for the St. Lawrence. The

Maijolla map (1527) shows “C. Paulo.” A map now preserved in the

Bodleian, given by Kohl,[279] and bearing date of “1536, die Martii,”

shows a dotted line running from Europe to Cathay, and passing through

an open strait north of Newfoundland. The map of Agnese (1536) makes no

mention of Cartier.[280]

Oviedo,[281] in his description of the coast in 1537, shows no

knowledge of the Gulf. He mentions an Island of St. John, but this lay

out in the Atlantic near Cape Breton, close to the Straits of Canso.

Nevertheless he gives a description of the four coasts of Cape Breton

Island. Afterward describing Newfoundland out of Ribero, he puts an

Island of St. John on the east coast near Belle Isle,[282] while in

a corresponding position we see on Ribero’s map, as published by

Kohl, the Island of “S. Juan.”[283] Mercator’s rare map of 1538[284]

exhibits Newfoundland as circumnavigated, the southern part being

composed of broken islands, named “Insule Corterealis.” Canada is

“Baccalearum regio,” and North America is “Americæ,” or “Hispania

major, capta anno 1530.” A strait, “Fretum arcticum,” runs north of

Labrador to the Pacific.

The Ptolemy published at Basle in 1540 shows a knowledge of Cartier’s

second voyage, Canada being called “Francisca;” while in the gulf

behind Newfoundland, called “Cortereali,” is a broad river like the St.

Lawrence, extending into the continent.

Nevertheless, at this period many of the maps and globes bore no

recognition of Cartier. A Spanish globe, for instance, of about 1540

shows no trace of Cartier, though behind Newfoundland—reduced to a

collection of small islands—is a great gulf indented with deep bays,

one being marked “Rio de Penico,” which may stand for the St. Lawrence,

and thus represent the alleged Portuguese exploration of the Gulf by

Alvarez Fagundes anterior to Cartier.[285]

[Illustration: ALLEFONSCE, FOL. 62^A.]

The map of Mercator published at Louvain in 1541 indicates no new

discovery of the French. Newfoundland appears as in the sketch of

1538, but in the Gulf, represented by a broad strait, we find, “C. das

paras,” “R. compredo,” and “R. da Baia.” The island of Cape Breton

bears the legend, “C. de teenedus bretoys.”