Part 2

Leaving Delaware Bay, Verrazano coasted northward, sailing by day and coming to anchor at night, finally reaching the Bay of New York, which forms the culmination of the interest of the voyage, so far as our present purpose is concerned. After proceeding a distance roughly estimated, on the decimal system, at a hundred leagues, he says: “We found a very pleasant situation among some little steep hills, through which a very large river (grandissima riviera), deep at its mouth, forced its way to the sea,” and he adds: “From the sea to the estuary of the river any ship might pass, with the help of the tide, which rises eight feet.” This is about the average rise at the present time, and the fact is one that could have been learned only from actual observation. It points to the “bar” as then existing, and gives the narrative every appearance of reality. Many things observed were noted in what Verrazano calls a “little book,” and evidently it was from data contained in this book that his brother compiled the map which illustrates the voyage. Verrazano, however, was cautious, as he possessed only one ship, and he says: “As we were riding at anchor in a good berth we would not venture up in our ship without a knowledge of the mouth; therefore,” he says, “we took the boat and entering the river, we found the country on its banks well-peopled, the inhabitants not differing much from the others, being dressed out with feathers of birds of various colors.” The natives, by their action, showed that their faith in human nature had not been spoiled by men leading expeditions like those of Ayllon in 1521, to the Carolinas for slaves. They were still a simple and unaffected people, not spoiled by European contact, as in the time of Hudson, and accordingly, unlike the sly people met where Ayllon’s kidnappers had done their work, “they came towards us with evident admiration, and showing us where we could most securely land with our boat.” Continuing, the narrative says: “We passed up this river about half a league, when we found it formed a most beautiful lake, three leagues in circuit, upon which were rowing thirty or more of their small boats from one shore to the other, filled with multitudes who came to see us.” This “beautiful lake” (bellissimo lago) was, so far as one is able to judge, the Bay of New York.

Verrazano passed the bar and anchored at the entrance of the Narrows, the position being defined as between “little steep hills” (infra piccoli colli eminenti), which exactly describes the heights of Staten Island, and the shore of Long Island as far up as Yellow Hook, the present Bay Ridge. Then far and wide the spacious harbor was surrounded by well-wooded shores, upon which Verrazano and his followers, evidently the first of Europeans to enter the port, gazed with admiration. It would appear that they did not cross the harbor, but they probably espied in the distance the island upon which our city now stands, clothed in the dusky brown, touched only here and there with patches of the evergreen pine. Nothing is said of the beauty of the foliage in this region, since in March none could have been apparent, though the population was evidently numerous, and from the shores the smoke of many wigwams was seen by day, with the distant illuminations that filled the eye of the sailor by night. Verrazano little dreamed of the value of the situation. It never occurred to him that on this “beautiful lake” would one day stand a city which in wealth and importance would eclipse the far-famed city of Montezuma. The situation was pleasing, but it did not offer what Verrazano sought, namely, an opening to India. He learned that he was at the mouth of a swift river that poured out a powerful tide from between the hills, and he saw the unreasonableness of continuing his search at this place. What conclusion he might have reached eventually, had his stay been prolonged, we cannot predict, but he was soon hurried away. He says: “All of a sudden, as it is wont to happen to navigators, a violent contrary wind blew in from the sea and forced us to return to our ship, greatly regretting to leave this region, which seemed so commodious and delightful, and which we supposed must contain great riches, as the hills showed many indications of minerals.” By a glance at the chart it will be seen that the ship lay in a position in the lower bay perilous for a stranger, and in case of a gale she would be in danger of being driven upon the shore of either Long Island or Staten Island. Verrazano would not take his ship through the Narrows into the harbor, on account of his ignorance of the situation, and when the wind set upon shore from the sea he at once decided to get out of danger. Accordingly he says: “Weighing anchor we sailed fifty leagues towards the east, the coast stretching in that direction, and always in sight of it.” Thus he coasted along the shores of Long Island, and “discovered an island in triangular form, some ten leagues from the main land, in size about equal to the Island of Rhodes.” This was Block Island, and we mention the circumstance here, in order that the reader may appreciate the fact that Verrazano first visited New York, and that he properly describes the coast. Block Island is distinctly a triangular island. Then he went to a harbor in the main, identified as Newport Harbor.[5] The natives who appeared in the harbor, it will be noticed, had some thirty small boats (barchettes). The word itself does not indicate the manner of their construction, but, when at Newport, Verrazano says distinctly, that these barchettes were hollowed out of single logs of wood (un sole fusto di legno). The Dutch found the natives using the same kind of boats here in the early days, though the bark canoe was also employed. The objections urged against the authenticity of the voyage of Verrazano have simply resulted in fresh investigation and the production of proofs that establish beyond question the truth of the narrative, which is supplemented by a long series of maps. The series begin with the map of Verrazano, drawn in the year 1529, by Hieronimo da Verrazano, brother of the navigator, and the Maijolla map, which also represents the voyage, giving particulars not given in the narrative of Verrazano. The map of Verrazano is now preserved in the museum of the “Propaganda Fide” at Rome,[6] and forms a wonderful advance upon the Ptolemy of 1513, which, after passing Florida, is vague and, upon the whole, quite useless as respects our present purpose, since it shows no knowledge of the Bay and Harbor of New York, and calls for no particular notice here.

It has already been observed that much of that which is wanting in the Letter is furnished by the map of Verrazano, noticeably the Shoals of Cape Cod. The map was constructed by the aid of the “little book,” in which, as Verrazano told Francis I., there were many particulars of the voyage, and it forms the best sixteenth century map of the coast now known to be extant in the original form. After Verrazano the delineation of the coast, as a whole, gradually, in the neglect of cartography, became more and more corrupt, culminating in the monstrous distortions of Mercator.

On the map of Verrazano the Cape of Florida is most unmistakable, though by an error in following Ptolemy, the draftsman placed the cape nine degrees too high, thus vitiating the latitudes, also failing to eliminate the error before reaching Cape Breton. This however, does not prevent us from recognizing the leading points of the coast. At Cape “Olimpo” we strike Cape Hatteras, and near “Santanna” is the mouth of Chesapeake Bay. “Palamsina,” a corruption perhaps of Pallavicino, marks the entrance to the Delaware. “Lamuetto,” possibly Bonivet after the general of that name, distinguishes what apparently was intended for Sandy Hook; while “San Germano” and “La Victoria” stand on the lower Bay of New York. Verrazano did not know enough about the river of “the steep hills” to enable him to give it a pronounced name, though in after times the Hudson, as we shall see, was called “the river of the mountains.” It will be readily recognized that San Germano is a name given out of compliment to his patron by Verrazano, as it recalls the splendid palace of Francis I., at St. Germaine-en-Lay. If circumstances had favored, the name of Francis might have been affixed to a great French metropolis at the mouth of the Hudson.

[Illustration: EXTRACT FROM THE VERRAZANO MAP

REVISED 1891]

The influence of the Verrazano Map upon succeeding charts was most marked down even to 1610, when all obscurity in regard to the position of the Harbor of New York had passed away. The same is true of the exhibition of the relation of New York Bay to Rhode Island and the Island of Luisa. The influence of Verrazano upon the Globe of Vlpius, 1542, was most emphatic, as will be noticed later; though it is to be remembered that Verrazano’s voyage was pictured on the Map of Maijolla before the Verrazano Map was drawn, notes from Verrazano, probably out of the “little book” that he mentions, affording the requisite material. Verrazano evidently furnished an abundance of names for localities, and the various draftsmen seemed to have exercised their judgment to some extent respecting their use. It would, however, prove wearisome to the reader to peruse any minute statements of the contents of the many maps that indicate the Bay of New York; since neither the authenticity nor the influence of the voyage of Verrazano can now be questioned. In directions where it was never suspected, the Letter of Verrazano to Francis I. had a decided influence, as will be noted hereafter, though attention may again be called to the fact that Barlow, in his voyage to North Carolina, 1584, used the Letter without credit, according to the custom of the time; while, when Gosnold visited New England, in 1602, he sailed, as tacitly acknowledged, with the Letter of Verrazano, translated by Hakluyt as his guide.

Next, however, the reader’s attention must be directed to the voyage of Estevan Gomez, who followed Verrazano in 1525. This adventurer was a Portuguese in the service of Spain. While Verrazano was abroad on his voyage, Gomez attended the nautical congress at Badajos, in Spain, when, we are told, Sebastian Cabot was present. At this congress Portugal opposed the plan presented for an expedition to the Indies, being very jealous, as usual, of the power of Spain. The differences of the two powers were nevertheless reconciled, and the king of Spain, with the aid of several merchants, fitted out a caravel and put Gomez in command. Gomez, if he did not stand as high as some men of his time, was a navigator of experience. In 1519 he sailed as chief pilot with Magellan, but incurred much odium by leaving him in the Straits which now bear Magellan’s name, and returning to Spain. Peter Martyr, who gives an account of the congress at Badajos, says: “It is decreed that one Stephanus Gomez, himself a skilful navigator, shall go another way, whereby, between Baccalaos and Florida, long since our countries, he says he will find out a way to Cataia. Only one ship, a caravel, is furnished for him,” and, the chronicler continues, “he will have no other thing in charge than to search out whether any passage to the great Chan from among the various windings and vast compassing of this our ocean is to be found.” Of the voyage out from Spain few particulars are now available, though the account of the return was penned by Martyr subsequently to November 13, 1525, and probably before the close of the year. The voyage was, upon the whole, a short one. Martyr, however, says that he returned at the end of “ten months,” while Navarrete states that he sailed in February. Galvano tells us that, having failed to obtain the command of an expedition to the Moluccas, he went on the coast of the new world in search of a passage to India, observing that “the Earl Don Fernando de Andrada, and the doctor Beltram, and the merchant Christopher de Serro, furnished a galleon for him, and he went from Groine, in Gallicia, to the Island of Cuba, and to the Cape of Florida, sailing by day because he knew not the land.” Galvano tells us, likewise, that he passed the Bay of Angra and the river Enseada, and so “went over to the other side, reaching Cape Razo in 46° N.” This means that he sailed up from Florida past the coast of Maine. Martyr, writing after the return of Gomez, indulges in a strain of ridicule, and says: “He, neither finding the Straight, nor Cataia, which he promised, returned back in ten months after his departure;” and continues: “I always thought and supposed this worthy man’s fancies to be vain and frivolous. Yet he wanted not for suffrages and voices in his favor and defense.” Still, Martyr admits that “he found pleasant and profitable countries agreeable with our parallels and degrees of the pole.”

The results of the voyage along the coast from Florida to Newfoundland are indicated on the Map of Ribeiro, 1529, which represents a new exploration, as nothing seems to have been borrowed from either the voyage of Verrazano or from the voyages made by the Portuguese, with the exception that Ribeiro used old Portuguese maps of Newfoundland, which was the case with Verrazano. We must, however, confine our observations to things that relate to this immediate region, and notice what the accompanying maps so fully exhibit, the difference of the delineation of Sandy Hook and Long Island. On the Ribeiro Map Sandy Hook appears as “Cabo de Arenas,” the Sandy Cape, exaggerated in size, while Long Island is hardly distinguishable, as the coast line runs too close to the north. It is indicated by the section of the coast between two rivers, “Montana Vue,” evidently one of the hills of Long Island that the navigator now views from the sea. On the Verrazano Map, the region of Sandy Hook is “Lamuetto” and “Lungavilla,” while Long Island is indicated as a part of the mainland, bearing the names of “Cabo de Olimpo” and “Angolesme,” the bay of “San Germano” lying between. The delineations of Verrazano exhibit his short stay and hasty departure, while the survey of Gomez must have occupied more time, at least around Sandy Hook. That this map resulted from the voyage of Gomez is evident from the legend, which calls the land “Tierra de Estevan Gomez;” (the country of Stephen Gomez) while eastward, where the coast of Maine is delineated, is the “Arcipelago” of Gomez. On this Map of Ribeiro the lower Bay of New York is indicated by “E. de S. Xpoal,” with several Islands. A river appears between this bay, given in later documents as Bay of “St. Chrispstabel,” and Long Island, but the name of the river is not given. “B. de S. Antonio,” however, is given which indicates the upper bay or harbor, and subsequently we shall see the river itself indicated as the river “San Antonio,” while the place of Sandy Hook in the old cartography will be fully established and identified with Cape de Arenas. Ribeiro evidently had pretty full notes of the calculations and observations of Gomez.

[Illustration: FRA. DRAKE.]

As the reverential old navigators were often in the habit of marking their progress in connection with prominent days in the Calendar, it is reasonable to suppose that the Hudson was discovered by Gomez on the festival of St. Anthony, which falls on January 17. Navarrete indeed says that he left Spain in February, but the accounts are more or less confusing. If Martyr, who is more particular, is correct, and Gomez was absent “ten months,” he must have sailed early in December, which would have brought him to our coast on the festival of the celebrated Theban Father. At this time the navigator would have seen the country at its worst. Evidently he made no extended exploration of the river, as in January it is often loaded with ice and snow.

Gomez was laughed at by the courtiers, and had no disposition to return to the American coast. The legend on the Map of Ribeiro proclaiming his discovery, that is, exploration of the coast, declared that here were to be found “many trees and fruits similar to those in Spain,” but Martyr contemptuously exclaims, “What need have we of these things that are common to all the people of Europe? To the South! to the South!” he ejaculates, “for the great and exceeding riches of the Equinoxial,” adding, “They that seek riches must not go to the cold and frozen North.” Gems, spices, and gold were the things coveted by Spain, and our temperate region, with its blustering winters, did not attract natures accustomed to soft Andalusian air.

After the voyage of Gomez, which, failing to find a route to the Indies, excited ridicule, there is nothing of special interest to emphasize in this connection until 1537. In the meanwhile, the English were active, and in 1527 two ships, commanded by Captain John Rut, were in American waters. It has been claimed that he sailed the entire coast, often sending men on land “to search the state of these unknown regions,” and it has been affirmed that this is “the first occasion of which we are distinctly informed that Englishmen landed on the coast.” Also that, “after Cabot, this was the second English expedition which sailed along the entire east coast of the United States, as far as South Carolina.” Granting, however, that the expedition of Rut actually extended down the American coast, there is no proof that he gave any attention to the locality of the Hudson.

[Illustration: A SECTION OF THE MAP OF ALONZO CHAVES.]

We turn now to the account of our particular locality, as given by Oviedo in 1537, who wrote an account of the coast based largely upon the Map of Alonzo Chaves. It appears that, in 1536, Charles V. ordered that the official charts should “be examined and corrected by experienced men, appointed for that purpose.” Acting under their instructions, Alonzo Chaves drew up a chart, embodying the information that he had been able to collect from maps and narratives. It is evident that he had notes of the voyage of Gomez, and that he used the Ribeiro Map, but he had no information about the voyage of Verrazano or that of Cartier in 1534. His delineation of the coast began in the Bay of Mexico, and extended to Newfoundland. Oviedo, in his “History of the Indies,” used this map, and describes the coast by its aid. The Map of Chaves does not appear to be accessible, but its American features have been reconstructed from the descriptions of Oviedo, and this portion of the Map is given herewith, the latitudes and distances being exactly preserved. From the Cape of Florida, Oviedo moves northward in his descriptions, which are distinctly recognizable. “Cabo de Sanct Johan” stands at the mouth of the Chesapeake, and from this place “Cabo de los Arenas” is thirty leagues to the north-northeast. The latter cape is 38° 20′ N. From “Arenas” the coast runs thirty leagues to “Cabo de Santiago,” which is 39° 20′ N. On this map Sandy Hook appears as Cape Santiago, but generally the name of “Arenas,” the Sandy Cape, is affixed to the Hook[7]. Oviedo, on reaching the end of Sandy Hook, proceeds to give an unmistakable delineation of the Bay and Harbor of New York, and of the river which is now known as the Hudson. “Thence,” continues Oviedo, with his eye on the Map of Chaves, “the coast turns southwest twenty leagues to the Bay of Sanct Christobal, which is in 39°, passes said bay, and goes thirty leagues to Rio de Sanct Antonio, north and south with the bottom of this bay; and the ‘Rio de Sanct Antonio’ is in 41° N.” Dr. Kohl says that “it is impossible to give a more accurate description of the Hudson River,” but this is not quite true. It was an excellent description for that period, considering the material at hand; yet it must be remembered that all the distances are given as general estimates on the decimal system. Besides, the Map of Chaves, like all the maps, was drawn on a small scale, and Sandy Hook and the Lower Bay are both exaggerated, as on the Map of Ribeiro, which will be seen by a comparison of the two maps, placed side by side to facilitate investigation. Both Ribeiro and Chaves had erroneous measurements of distances, and made the Lower Bay quite a large gulf, while the latitude of “Rio Sanct Antonio” is placed one degree too high. Ribeiro, however, gave the Hook its right name, “Arenas.”[8] The size of the Hook is exaggerated on the Maijolla Map, 1527, though not on the Verrazano, 1529. These things show free-hand drawing on the part of the mapmakers, and defective rule-of-thumb measurements by the navigator, who probably viewed the waters behind the Hook when veiled in mist, failing to test his own estimates.

Oviedo says that “from the Rio de Sanct Antonio the coast runs northeast one-fourth east forty leagues to a point (punta), that on the western side it has a river called the Buena Madre, and on the eastern part, in front of (de lante) the point, is the Bay of Sanct Johan Baptista, which point (punta) is 41° 30′ N.”; or, rather, correcting the error of one degree, in 40° 30′ N. This point is Montauk Point, Long Island being taken as a part of the main. The Thames River in Connecticut answers to the River of the Good Mother, and the Bay of John Baptist is evidently the Narragansett. Oviedo then goes on to the region of Cape Cod, varying from the general usage, and calling it “Arrecifes,” or the Reef Cape, instead of “Cabe de Baxos,” which signifies substantially the same thing. Under the circumstances, the description of Long Island is remarkably exact, as its shore trends northward almost exactly half a degree in running to Montauk Point. What, therefore, lies on either side of the River San Antonio fixes beyond question the locality of the Hudson, and proves that it was clearly known from the time of Gomez to 1537.

The next navigator whose work touched our part of the coast was Jehan or Jean Allefonsce, who, in 1542, came to Canada as pilot of Roberval, and gained considerable knowledge of the North Atlantic shores. This hardy sailor was a native of Saintonge, a village of Cognac, France. After following the sea for a period of more than forty years, and escaping many dangers, he finally received a mortal wound while engaged in a naval battle in the harbor of Rochelle. Melin Saint-Gelais wrote a sonnet in his honor during the year 1559. It can hardly be doubted that Allefonsce himself ran down the coast in one of the ships of Roberval, probably when returning to France.

With the aid of Paulin Secalart he wrote a cosmographical description, which included Canada and the West Indies, with the American coast. Very recognizable descriptions are given as far down as Cape Cod and the islands to the southward. The manuscript also possesses interest in connection with the region of the Hudson, though farther south the description becomes still more available.