VIRGINIA:

A HISTORY OF THE PEOPLE.

I. THE PLANTATION.

I.

THE GOOD LAND.

JUST three centuries ago, two ships sent from England on a voyage of exploration crossed the Atlantic by way of the Azores, sailed northward along the coast of Florida, and came to anchor off the Indian kingdom of Axacan, now North Carolina.

The voyagers were amazed at the beauty of the country. The time was midsummer, and before them was a long island fringed with verdure. Above the undergrowth rose "the highest and reddest cedars of the world;" the wild vines were so full of grape bunches that "the very surf overflowed them;" and deer, turkeys, and snow-white cranes were "in incredible abundance." When the mariners landed, first on the island and then on the main-land, they were welcomed by the Indians, who proved to be "a kind, loving people ;" and the time from summer to autumn was spent in exploring the adjacent country. The name of the immediate region was Wingandacoa, which seems to have signified "The Good Land," and the Englishmen found it "most plentiful, sweet, wholesome and fruitful of all other."

At last the western paradise so long dreamed of seemed to have been discovered, and when the ships went back to England, at the approach of winter, the commanders gave such glowing accounts of what they had seen, that Elizabeth called the country Virginia, the Virgin land.

This voyage took place in the summer of 1584. For a long time afterwards the name Virginia was only the popular designation of an unknown region beyond the Atlantic. No more was known of it, and an old writer could only say, "The bounds thereof on the East side are the ocean, on the South lieth Florida, on the North Nova Francia, as for the West thereof the limits are unknown." The English had touched its shores only; the interior was an untravelled realm, where the fancy might revel freely, a land of fairer fruits and flowers than the fruits and flowers of Europe; of green shores, majestic forests, and blue mountains filled with gold and jewels. In this wonderful world bright birds flitted from tree to tree, dusky beauties danced and beckoned, the rivers ran over golden sands, and somewhere far off in the direction of the South Sea was the famous Fount of Youth, which the old had only to bathe in to grow young again. With these visions of delight were mingled weird and terrible fancies. The Bermuda Islands, a portion of Virginia, were said to be haunted by mysterious beings. English mariners who had been shipwrecked there described them as "an enchanted den full of furies and devils which all men did shun as hell and perdition." Even the great intelligences of the time caught the glamour or affected to do so, and the popular superstition was crystallized by Shakespeare in his "Tempest." In this den of enchantment Prospero practiced his magic, witches hovered in the air, and uncouth

shapes appeared and vanished.

The far islands posted

like sentinels on the threshold of the New World were a realm of wonders, and the ignorant and ardent minds of the men of that age believed all that was reported of them.

These fancies were supported by old tradition. It was said that" Arthur, Malgro, and Brandon, a thousand years ago were in this North of America, and the Friar of Lynn, by his black art, went to the north pole in 1380." The friar with his black art was the counterpart of Prospero with his magic, and it was as easy to believe in one as in the other. Then tradition took a few uncertain steps in the direction of history. Madoc, a Welsh prince, was said to have visited America, and Lief, a Norwegian, was supposed to have landed, about the year 1000, in what is now New England. This may have been the truth, but the fact is not established. The Norwegian may have been an historical personage, but he and his sea rovers bear a suspicious resemblance to "Arthur, Malgro, and Brandon." Through a mist blown about by the winds of old years loom dim uncertain figures, which may be figures of real men or mere phantasmagoria. The outlines waver as one gazes at them, and the personages are scarcely more real than the Thors and Baldurs of the Scandinavian sagas.

With Columbus certainty begins. At last firm ground is found to stand upon. Sailing westward over the unknown sea, the Genoese reached land and took possession in the name of Castile. But the land was not the Continent; Columbus had only reached San Salvador, one of the Bahamas. Five years afterwards John Cabot, commanding an English fleet, discovered the

mainland and claimed it in the name of England; and this was the foundation of the English title — priority of actual landing and possession.

For nearly a century after this year, 1497, England seemed blind to the importance of her claim. The New World, as far as she was concerned, seemed to go a-begging. Spain and France were wiser. Both made persistent efforts to secure the prize, and a few names and dates will tell the story.

In 1512, about twenty years after the discovery by Columbus, Ponce de Leon took possession of Florida in the name of Spain.

In 1521 Cortez overran Mexico, and soon afterward Pizarro conquered Peru.

In 1534 Jacques Cartier entered the St. Lawrence, and laid claim to Canada in the name of France.

In 1541 Fernando de Soto marched through the present Gulf States, from Florida, to the Mississippi, and claimed the country in the name of Spain; and in 1562 some French Huguenots established a colony at St. Augustine in Florida.

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Thus the Continent of North America a name derived from Amerigo Vespucci, an Italian and one of the early voyagers had become a bone of contention between France and Spain, without regard to England. The Spaniards acted with decision. In 1565 they attacked St. Augustine and massacred the French Huguenots, after which they pushed northward to occupy the whole country. An effort was made to establish a Jesuit mission in what is now North Carolina; and Don Pedro Morquez, the Governor of Florida, sailed along the coast and entered "the bay of Santa Maria, in the latitude of thirty-seven degrees and a half".

which is the Chesapeake. The country pleased him, and he sent a party of men and two Dominican monks to form a settlement. The expedition only failed from accident; and thus the banks of the Chesapeake narrowly escaped becoming the site of a Roman Catholic colony owning allegiance to Spain.

This is the brief record of events connected with the first years of American history. By the middle of the century the power of Spain seemed firmly established. Before the English flag floated over so much as a log fort on the Continent, she was possessed of all Central America, and the extension of her dominion northward seemed only a question of time. The country was occupied by her troops and officials, and Spanish fleets went to and fro between Cadiz and the ports of Mexico and Peru. As far as the human eye could see, the new world of America had become the property of Spain, and her right to it seemed unassailable. A mariner sailing under the Spanish flag had discovered it; Spanish captains had conquered it; and the Papal authority had formally put Spain in possession of it.

If England meant to assert her claim, the time had plainly come to do so; and in 1576 an expedition was sent to explore the country. It came to nothing, and another in 1583 had no better fortune. It was commanded by Sir Humphrey Gilbert, and the Queen had sent him a small golden trinket, in the shape of an anchor set with jewels, and the message, that she "wished him as great hap and safety to his ship as if herself were there in person." Gilbert reached the island of St. John, but his fleet was scattered by a storm. His own vessel went down, and he was heard to say as the ship sank: "Be of good cheer, my friends; it is as near to heaven by sea as by land."