But the bloody deed was not to go unrevenged. A bold Gascon, Dominic de Gourgues, in 1567, equipped three ships and set sail for Florida. He swooped down suddenly, like a falcon on the forts at the mouth of the St. John's, and putting the occupants to the sword, hanged them in the forest, inscribing over their dangling corpses, this mocking reply to the taunt at the Lutherans: "I do this not as unto Spaniards and sailors, but as unto murderers, robbers and traitors!"
The revenge was merciless; and thus terminated the first chapter in the history of religious liberty in America. BLOOD stained the earliest meeting between Catholic and Protestant on the present soil of our Union!
The power of Spain, the unattractiveness of our coast, the indifferent climate, and the failure to find wealthy native nations to plunder, kept the northern part of our continent in the back ground for the greater part of a century after the voyages of Columbus and Cabot. There were discouragements at that time for mercantile or maritime enterprise, which make us marvel the more at the energy of the men who with such slender vessels and knowledge of navigation, tempted the dangers of unknown seas.
Emigration from land to land, from neighboring country to neighboring country, was, at that epoch, a formidable enterprise; what then must we think of the hardihood, or compulsion, which could either tempt or drive men, not only over conterminous boundaries, but across distant seas? Feudal loyalty and the strong tie of family, bound them not only to their local homes, but to their native land. The lusty sons of labor were required to till the soil, while their stalwart brethren, clad in steel, were wandering on murderous errands, over half of Europe, fighting for Protestantism or Catholicity. Adventure, then, in the shape of colonization, must hardly be thought of, from the inland states of the old world; and, even from the maritime nations, with the exception of Spain and Portugal, we find nothing worthy of record, save the fisheries on the Banks, the small settlements of the French in Acadia and along the St. Lawrence, and the holy efforts of Catholic Missionaries among the Northern Indians. If we did not know their zeal to have been Christian, it might almost be considered romantic.
Soon after the return of De Gourgues from his revengeful exploit, the report of the daring deed and its provocation, was spread over Europe, and excited the people's attention to America more eagerly than ever. Among those who were attracted to the subject, was a British gentleman, whose character and misfortunes have always engaged my sincere admiration.
Sir Walter Raleigh was the natural offspring of the remarkable age in which he lived. We owe him our profoundest respect, for it was Sir Walter who gave the first decided impulse to our race's beneficial enjoyment of this continent. It was his fortune to live at a time of great and various action. The world was convulsed with the throes of a new civilization, and the energy it exhibited was consequent upon its long repose. It was an age of transition. It was an age of coat and corselet—of steel and satin—of rudeness and refinement,—in which the antique soldier was melting into the modern citizen. It was the twilight of feudalism. Baronial strongholds were yielding to municipal independence. Learning began to teach its marvels to the masses; warfare still called chivalrous men to the field; a spirited queen, surrounded by gallant cavaliers, sat on a dazzling throne; adventurous commerce armed splendid navies and nursed a brood of hardy sailors; while the mysterious New World invited enterprise to invade its romantic and golden depths. It was peculiarly an age of thought and action; and is characterized by a vitality which is apparent to all who recollect its heroes, statesmen, philosophers and poets.
Sir Walter Raleigh was destined, by his deeds and his doom, to bring this northern continent, which we are now enjoying, into prominent notice. He was the embodiment of the boyhood of our new world. In early life he had been a soldier, but the drift of his genius led him into statesmanship. He was a well known favorite of the Virgin Queen. A spirit of adventure bore him across the Atlantic, where, if the occasion had offered, he would have rivalled Cortez in his courageous hardihood, and outstripped him in his lukewarm humanity. He became a courtier; and, mingling in the intrigues of the palace, according to the morals of the age, was soon too great a favorite with his sovereign to escape the dislike of men who beheld his sudden rise with envy. From the palace he passed to prison; and, scorning the idleness which would have rusted so active an intellect, he prepared that remarkable History of the World, wherein he concentrated a mass of rare learning, curious investigation, and subtle thought, which demonstrate the comprehensive and yet minute character of his wonderful mind. A volume of poems shows how sweetly he could sing. The story of his battles, discloses how bravely he could fight. The narrative of his voyages proves the boldness of his seamanship. The calmness of his prison life teaches us the manly lesson of endurance. The devotion of his wife, denotes how deeply he could love; while his letters to that cherished woman—those domestic records in which the heart divulges its dearest secrets—teem with proofs of his affection and Christianity. Indeed, the gallantry of his courtiership; the foresight of his statecraft; the splendid dandyism of his apparel; the wild freedom and companionship of his forest life, show how completely the fop and the forager, the queenly pet and loyal subject, the author and the actor, the noble and the democrat, the soldier and the scholar, were, in the age of Elizabeth and James, blent in one man, and that man—Sir Walter Raleigh.
Do we not detect in this first adventurous and practical patron of North America, many of the seemingly discordant qualities which mingle so commonly in the versatile life of our own people? If the calendar of courts had its saints, like the calendar of the church, well might Sir Walter have been canonized as protector of the broad realm for which the brutal James made him a martyr to the jealousy and fear of Spain.[2]