VESPUCIUS.
The voyage of Verrazano was projected in 1523. On April 25th of that year, Silveira, the Portuguese embassador at the Court of Francis I., wrote to his master: “By what I hear, Maestro Joas Verrazano, who is going on the discovery of Cathay, has not left up to date for want of opportunity, and because of differences, I understand, between himself and his men.... I shall continue to doubt unless he takes his departure.” It appears that he first went to sea with four ships, but met a severe gale and was obliged to return to port, apparently with the loss of two ships. After making repairs, he sailed for the Spanish coast alone in the Dolphin, the captain of the remaining ship leaving Verrazano, and giving color to the story of Silveira, that he had quarreled with his men. In the Carli correspondence, there is a reference to one Brunelleschi, “who went with him and unfortunately turned back.”
On January 17, 1524 (old style), Verrazano finally sailed from a barren rocky island, southeast of Madeira, though Carli erroneously says that he departed from the Canaries. The discrepancy is useful, in that it proves an absence of collusion between writers in framing a fictitious voyage. Steering westward until February 14th, he met a severe hurricane, and then veered more to the north, holding the middle course, as he feared to sail southward, by the accustomed route to the West Indies, less he should fall into the hands of the Spaniards,[4] who with the Portuguese, claimed the entire New World, in accordance with the decree of Pope Alexander. Hence the navigator, to avoid the Spanish cruisers, held his course westward in sunshine and storm, until the shores of the American continent appeared above the waves. March 7th he saw land which “never before had been seen by any one either in ancient or modern times,” a statement that he was lead into by the desire to claim something for France. He knew that his statement could not be exactly true, because, like all the navigators of his day, he was familiar with the Ptolemy of 1513, containing a rude map of the coast from Florida to 55° N. Evidently he did not attach any value to the explorations of the Portuguese as represented by the maps, and hence, after sighting land in the neighborhood of 34° N., he sailed southward fifty leagues to make sure of connecting with the actual exploration of the Portuguese, and then began coasting northward in search of a route through the land to Cathay. Columbus died in 1508, believing that he had reached Cathay, but in the day of Verrazano it was understood by many that the land found formed a new continent, though this was not everywhere accepted until the middle of the sixteenth century.
CARTIER.
Navigating northward, Verrazano reached the neighborhood of the present site of Charlestown, South Carolina, describing the country substantially as it appears to-day, bordered with low sand-hills, the sea making inlets, while beyond were beautiful fields, broad plains, and vast forests. On landing they found the natives timid, but by friendly signs the savages became assured, and freely approached the French followers of Verrazano, wondering at their dress and complexion, just as, in 1584, Barlow, in the same locality, said that the natives wondered “at the whiteness of our skins.” The descriptions of Verrazano were so faithful that Barlow, though without credit, employed his language, especially when he says, speaking of the forests before reaching the land, “We smelt so sweet and strong a smell as if we had been in the midst of some delicate garden.” As Verrazano held northward, his descriptions continued to exhibit the same fidelity, being used by Barlow and confirmed by Father White. They were also confirmed by Dermer, who ran the coast in 1619, finding the shores low, without stones, sandy, and, for the most part, harborless. When near Chesapeake Bay, Verrazano found that the people made their canoes of logs, as described by Barlow and Father White. The grapes-vines were also seen trailing from the trees, as indicated by these writers; and, speaking of the fruit, Verrazano says that it was “very sweet and pleasant.” This language, being used early in the season, led to the rather thoughtless objection that Verrazano never made the voyage. The simple explanation is that the natives were accustomed to preserving fruits by drying them; and hence Hudson, in 1609, found dried “currants,” which were sweet and good, meaning by the word, “currant” what all meant at that period, namely, a dried grape. The letter of Verrazano contains exaggerations, like all similar productions. Cortez made Montezuma drink wine from cellars in a country where both wine and cellars were unknown. Cartier caused figs to grow in Canada, and Eric the Red called the ice-clad hills of the land west of Iceland, “Greenland.” Verrazano, however, falls into none of these flat contradictions, and often the objection to the authenticity of the voyage has grown out of the ignorance of the critic of very common things.
Leaving Delaware Bay, Verrazano coasted northward, sailing by day and coming to anchor at night, finally reaching the Bay of New York, which forms the culmination of the interest of the voyage, so far as our present purpose is concerned. After proceeding a distance roughly estimated, on the decimal system, at a hundred leagues, he says: “We found a very pleasant situation among some little steep hills, through which a very large river (grandissima riviera), deep at its mouth, forced its way to the sea,” and he adds: “From the sea to the estuary of the river any ship might pass, with the help of the tide, which rises eight feet.” This is about the average rise at the present time, and the fact is one that could have been learned only from actual observation. It points to the “bar” as then existing, and gives the narrative every appearance of reality. Many things observed were noted in what Verrazano calls a “little book,” and evidently it was from data contained in this book that his brother compiled the map which illustrates the voyage. Verrazano, however, was cautious, as he possessed only one ship, and he says: “As we were riding at anchor in a good berth we would not venture up in our ship without a knowledge of the mouth; therefore,” he says, “we took the boat and entering the river, we found the country on its banks well-peopled, the inhabitants not differing much from the others, being dressed out with feathers of birds of various colors.” The natives, by their action, showed that their faith in human nature had not been spoiled by men leading expeditions like those of Ayllon in 1521, to the Carolinas for slaves. They were still a simple and unaffected people, not spoiled by European contact, as in the time of Hudson, and accordingly, unlike the sly people met where Ayllon’s kidnappers had done their work, “they came towards us with evident admiration, and showing us where we could most securely land with our boat.” Continuing, the narrative says: “We passed up this river about half a league, when we found it formed a most beautiful lake, three leagues in circuit, upon which were rowing thirty or more of their small boats from one shore to the other, filled with multitudes who came to see us.” This “beautiful lake” (bellissimo lago) was, so far as one is able to judge, the Bay of New York.
Verrazano passed the bar and anchored at the entrance of the Narrows, the position being defined as between “little steep hills” (infra piccoli colli eminenti), which exactly describes the heights of Staten Island, and the shore of Long Island as far up as Yellow Hook, the present Bay Ridge. Then far and wide the spacious harbor was surrounded by well-wooded shores, upon which Verrazano and his followers, evidently the first of Europeans to enter the port, gazed with admiration. It would appear that they did not cross the harbor, but they probably espied in the distance the island upon which our city now stands, clothed in the dusky brown, touched only here and there with patches of the evergreen pine. Nothing is said of the beauty of the foliage in this region, since in March none could have been apparent, though the population was evidently numerous, and from the shores the smoke of many wigwams was seen by day, with the distant illuminations that filled the eye of the sailor by night. Verrazano little dreamed of the value of the situation. It never occurred to him that on this “beautiful lake” would one day stand a city which in wealth and importance would eclipse the far-famed city of Montezuma. The situation was pleasing, but it did not offer what Verrazano sought, namely, an opening to India. He learned that he was at the mouth of a swift river that poured out a powerful tide from between the hills, and he saw the unreasonableness of continuing his search at this place. What conclusion he might have reached eventually, had his stay been prolonged, we cannot predict, but he was soon hurried away. He says: “All of a sudden, as it is wont to happen to navigators, a violent contrary wind blew in from the sea and forced us to return to our ship, greatly regretting to leave this region, which seemed so commodious and delightful, and which we supposed must contain great riches, as the hills showed many indications of minerals.” By a glance at the chart it will be seen that the ship lay in a position in the lower bay perilous for a stranger, and in case of a gale she would be in danger of being driven upon the shore of either Long Island or Staten Island. Verrazano would not take his ship through the Narrows into the harbor, on account of his ignorance of the situation, and when the wind set upon shore from the sea he at once decided to get out of danger. Accordingly he says: “Weighing anchor we sailed fifty leagues towards the east, the coast stretching in that direction, and always in sight of it.” Thus he coasted along the shores of Long Island, and “discovered an island in triangular form, some ten leagues from the main land, in size about equal to the Island of Rhodes.” This was Block Island, and we mention the circumstance here, in order that the reader may appreciate the fact that Verrazano first visited New York, and that he properly describes the coast. Block Island is distinctly a triangular island. Then he went to a harbor in the main, identified as Newport Harbor.[5] The natives who appeared in the harbor, it will be noticed, had some thirty small boats (barchettes). The word itself does not indicate the manner of their construction, but, when at Newport, Verrazano says distinctly, that these barchettes were hollowed out of single logs of wood (un sole fusto di legno). The Dutch found the natives using the same kind of boats here in the early days, though the bark canoe was also employed. The objections urged against the authenticity of the voyage of Verrazano have simply resulted in fresh investigation and the production of proofs that establish beyond question the truth of the narrative, which is supplemented by a long series of maps. The series begin with the map of Verrazano, drawn in the year 1529, by Hieronimo da Verrazano, brother of the navigator, and the Maijolla map, which also represents the voyage, giving particulars not given in the narrative of Verrazano. The map of Verrazano is now preserved in the museum of the “Propaganda Fide” at Rome,[6] and forms a wonderful advance upon the Ptolemy of 1513, which, after passing Florida, is vague and, upon the whole, quite useless as respects our present purpose, since it shows no knowledge of the Bay and Harbor of New York, and calls for no particular notice here.
It has already been observed that much of that which is wanting in the Letter is furnished by the map of Verrazano, noticeably the Shoals of Cape Cod. The map was constructed by the aid of the “little book,” in which, as Verrazano told Francis I., there were many particulars of the voyage, and it forms the best sixteenth century map of the coast now known to be extant in the original form. After Verrazano the delineation of the coast, as a whole, gradually, in the neglect of cartography, became more and more corrupt, culminating in the monstrous distortions of Mercator.