nage at the hands of Francis. Among artists, philosophers,
and men of letters enrolled in his service stands the humbler name of a
Florentine navigator, John Verrazzano.

He was born of an ancient family, which could boast names eminent in
Florentine history, and of which the last survivor died in 1819. He has
been called a pirate, and he was such in the same sense in which Drake,
Hawkins, and other valiant sea-rovers of his own and later times,
merited the name; that is to say, he would plunder and kill a Spaniard
on the high seas without waiting for a declaration of war.

The wealth of the Indies was pouring into the coffers of Charles the
Fifth, and the exploits of Cortes had given new lustre to his crown.
Francis the First begrudged his hated rival the glories and profits
of the New World. He would fain have his share of the prize; and
Verrazzano, with four ships, was despatched to seek out a passage
westward to the rich kingdom of Cathay.

Some doubt has of late been cast on the reality of this voyage of
Verrazzano, and evidence, mainly negative in kind, has been adduced to
prove the story of it a fabrication; but the difficulties of incredulity
appear greater than those of belief, and no ordinary degree of
scepticism is required to reject the evidence that the narrative is
essentially true.

Towards the end of the year 1523, his four ships sailed from Dieppe;
but a storm fell upon him, and, with two of the vessels, he ran back in
distress to a port of Brittany. What became of the other two does not
appear. Neither is it clear why, after a preliminary cruise against the
Spaniards, he pursued his voyage with one vessel alone, a caravel called
the "Dauphine." With her he made for Madeira, and, on the seventeenth
of January, 1524, set sail from a barren islet in its neighborhood, and
bore away for the unknown world. In forty-nine days they neared a low
shore, not far from the site of Wilmington in North Carolina, "a newe
land," exclaims the voyager, "never before seen of any man, either
auncient or moderne." Verrazzano steered southward in search of a
harbor, and, finding none, turned northward again. Presently he sent a
boat ashore. The inhabitants, who had fled at first, soon came down to
the strand in wonder and admiration, pointing out a landing-place, and
making gestures of friendship. "These people," says Verrazzano, "goe
altogether naked, except only certain skinnes of beastes like unto
marterns [martens],