Chapter X: Part 10

There was no talk but of huge armies destroyed by the Cossacks, of a great number of peoples subjected by their valor, of the immense riches which they had found. In a word, Siberia seemed to have fallen from the sky for the Russians, and, to set off still further Iermak's success, it was forgotten that from time immemorial this country had been known to the Russians. The disgrace of the Cossacks gave place to honors. John Koltzo, bowing his head in humility before the Czar and the boyars, heard nothing but expressions of good-will, and of praise for his conduct and the name of valiant warrior. Greatly moved, he kissed the hand of the Czar, who caused to be given to him, as well as to the other envoys of Siberia, silver, cloth, and stuffs of value. Ivan immediately sent to Iermak Prince Simeon Bolkovsky and the officer John Glukoff with five hundred strelitz (infantry). He authorized John Koltzo to raise volunteers to go and establish himself in the new countries of Tobol, and ordered the Bishop of Vologda to send ten priests thither for the purpose of celebrating divine service. Prince Bolkovsky was ordered to take, in the spring, the boats of the Stroganoffs and embark on the Tchusovaya (river), to follow the traces of the hero of Siberia. These illustrious citizens, the real authors of this important acquisition to Russia, yielded it to the state. But in recompense, and as a reward for their services and their zeal, Ivan made to Simeon Bolkovsky a concession of two borough towns, the Great and Little Sol, on the Volga. Maxime and Necetas obtained the privilege of carrying on commerce in all their cities without paying any tax or duty.

While awaiting good news from Russia, the conquerors of Siberia did not give themselves up to a sterile repose. They advanced by the Tavda as far as the country of the Vogulitches, and near the mouth of that river where the Tartar princes Labutan and Petschenieg held sway. In a bloody engagement Iermak put them to flight on the shores of a lake; and the annalist reports that at his time many human bones were still to be seen there. But the timid inhabitants of the cantons of Koschutz and of Tabarin paid the tribute demanded by the Cossack leader without a murmur. These peaceful savages lived in an absolute independence, having neither princes nor chiefs. They only gave their respect to certain rich men, whose wisdom was generally recognized, and took them as judges in their quarrels. They yielded an equal esteem to some pretended soothsayers. One of these, gazing upon Iermak with a holy terror, predicted long glory for him, but kept silence about his approaching death. Here fable creates new giants among the dwarfs of Vogulie, who are scarcely two archines in height. According to one of these stories, the Russians saw with surprise, near the town of Tabarin, a giant two fathoms tall, who seized a dozen men at a time and smothered them in his arms. Not being able to take him alive, they killed him with gunshots.

On the whole, the relation of this latter expedition is not very authentic, and is only found in the supplement to the _Chronicles of Siberia_. One may also read there that, after having reached the marshes and forests of Pelim, dispersed the Vogulitches, and made numerous prisoners, Iermak sought to gather from the latter certain information regarding the roads which lead from the banks of the Upper Tavda to Perm, across a chain of rocky mountains, in order to discover a less dangerous and less difficult communication with Russia, but that it was impossible to open a road in deserts swampy in summer and buried under deep snows in winter. Iermak succeeded in increasing the number of his tributaries, and in extending his domains as far as the shore of Sosva, in the ancient country of Yugorie. He had enclosed in their limits the country of Kondinie, little known up to that time, although long placed among the titles of the Muscovite sovereigns. He then returned to the capital of Siberia, where he awaited the recompense of his glorious works.

John Koltzo had arrived at Isker, charged with the bounties of the Czar, followed by Prince Bolkovsky with his warriors. The former gave rich presents to the leaders as well as to the soldiers. He was the bearer, for Iermak, of two cuirasses, a cup of silver, and a cloak which the Czar had worn himself. In a letter full of goodness, Ivan announced to the Cossacks his entire forgetfulness of their faults and the eternal recognition of Russia for their important services. He affirmed that he appointed Iermak prince of Siberia, commanding him to administer and govern that country, as he had already done up to that time; to establish order there, and, in fine, to consolidate there the supreme power of the Czar. On their side, the Cossacks rendered honors to the waywodes of Ivan as well as to all the strelitz. They made them presents of sables and treated them with all the luxury which their position permitted, preparing together for new enterprises. However, this happiness of Iermak and his companions was not of long duration; we touch upon the beginning of their reverses.

In the first place, a fearful scurvy showed itself among the troops, a disease common to those who arrive in cold and damp climates, in savage and almost uninhabited countries. The strelitz were attacked first. Soon it was communicated to the Cossacks, many of whom lost their strength and their life. Next, winter brought a great dearth of food. The excessive cold, tempests, snow-storms, hindered the hunting and fishing as well as the arrival of grain from the neighboring encampments, some inhabitants of which occupied themselves with a poorly productive agriculture. Famine began to be felt; disease made progress and continually took off many victims, among whom was Prince Bolkovsky. They gave him an honorable funeral at Isker. The general weakness seized the heart of Iermak also. He feared not death, long accustomed to brave it, but he was afflicted with the idea of losing his conquest, of betraying the hopes of the Czar and of Russia. Happily this calamity ceased with spring. The atmospheric heat helped the cure of the diseases, and convoys of provisions restored plenty among the Russians. Then Iermak made Prince Mahmetkul start for Moscow, announcing to the Czar that, while all was going on well in Siberia, yet he asked immediately for more considerable aids than the first, in order to preserve his conquests and to be able to make new ones. Mahmetkul, faithful observer of the law of Mahomet, served afterward in the Russian armies.

Iermak resolved to intimidate his enemies and to guarantee his safety for the future. To this effect, although he had but a feeble troop left, he undertook to pursue Karatcha, ascending the Irtysh in order to extend the possessions of Russia toward the east. He overthrew Prince Beghiche and captured his city, of which the ruins may still be seen on the shores of a sinuous lake, near the mouth of the Vogai. He made himself master of all the country which stretches as far as the Ischim, terrifying by his vengeance those who dared resist him, and sparing those who lay down their arms. In the country of Sargaty there lived an illustrious old man, a former Tartar chief, a hereditary judge of all the tribes since the first khan of Siberia. He made the act of submission as well as Prince Etichai, who governed the city of Tehend. The latter, bearing tribute to Iermak, presented his young daughter, betrothed to the son of Kutchum. But the hetman, a rigid observer of the laws of chastity, sent the young girl home. Near the mouth of the Ischim, a bloody quarrel arose between the soldiers of Iermak and the wild inhabitants of that wretched country, in which five brave Cossacks lost their lives. Their memory is still celebrated in the melancholy songs of Siberia. The little town of Tachatkan also fell into the power of the Russians. Their chief did not judge it advisable to attack a more important place, founded by Kutchum, on the banks of the lake Aussaklu. He penetrated as far as the shore of Chische, where the deserts begin; imposed tributes on this new conquest, and returned to take to Isker the spoils which were to be his last trophies.

FIRST COLONY OF ENGLAND BEYOND SEAS

A.D. 1583

MOSES HARVEY

In the Elizabethan era, when maritime discovery was being actively
pursued by England's adventurous spirits, Sir Humphrey Gilbert,
half-brother of Sir Walter Raleigh, the founder of Virginia, took
possession of Newfoundland, with feudal ceremony, in the name of the
Virgin Queen. Sir Humphrey's expedition was barren of results in the
way of colonization, and even in the way of discovery on the island;
while it proved fatal to its leader, and those who sailed with him
on the Squirrel, for on the return voyage to England the vessel
foundered at sea, and only the companion-ship, the Golden Hind,
reached the port of Falmouth, Devon. But the formal occupation of
Newfoundland at that early period makes it the most ancient colony
of the British crown, English settlement beginning shortly after Sir
Humphrey Gilbert's visit, though interrupted between the years 1692
and 1713 by French attempts at conquest.

Up to this time no attempt had been made to colonize Newfoundland or any of the neighboring lands. The hardy fishermen of various nationalities, among whom Englishmen were now much more numerous than formerly, were in the habit of frequenting the shores of the island during the summer and using the harbors and coves for the cure of their fish, returning home with the products of their toil on the approach of winter. Eighty-six years had passed away since Cabot's discovery, and we now arrive at the year 1583, a memorable date in the history of Newfoundland. On August 5th of that year there were lying in the harbor of St. John's thirty-six vessels belonging to various nations, Portuguese, Spanish, French, and English, all employed in fishing. In addition to these there were four English warships which had arrived the day before. They were the Delight, the Golden Hind, the Swallow, and the Squirrel. Early on this morning boats were lowered from the English ships, and the commanders and officers went on shore. Soon a goodly company had assembled on the beach, then lined by a few rough wooden huts and "flakes," or stages for drying cod. The rude inmates of these huts gathered round the company that landed from the English ships; and the captains and officers of the other vessels were there by special summons. A very curious and motley group was that which then stood on the beach of St. John's harbor--swarthy, bronzed sailors and fishermen of Spain, Portugal, and France, in the costumes of the sixteenth century. Soon a circle formed round one commanding figure--a man of noble presence, wearing the richly slashed and laced doublet, velvet cloak, trunk-hose, and gay hat and feather which constituted the dress of gentlemen in the days of Queen Elizabeth. This was no other than Sir Humphrey Gilbert, one of the gallant knights of Devonshire. He unrolled a parchment scroll, and proceeded to read the royal patent authorizing him to take possession of Newfoundland on behalf of his royal mistress, and exercise jurisdiction over it and all other possessions of the crown in the same quarter. Twig and sod were presented to him in feudal fashion, and, in the name of Queen Elizabeth, he solemnly annexed the island to the British Empire. The banner of England was then twisted on a flag-staff; the royal arms, cut in lead, were affixed to a wooden pillar, near the water's edge, and the ceremony was complete. The grant gave Sir Humphrey Gilbert jurisdiction for two hundred leagues in every direction, so that the limits included Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, part of Labrador, as well as the islands of Newfoundland, Cape Breton, and Prince Edward Island--a right royal principality.

This Sir Humphrey Gilbert, the first settler in Newfoundland, who, with some two hundred fifty followers from Devonshire, had arrived with the view of making the western wilderness a home for Englishmen, was a son of Sir Otho Gilbert, of Compton castle, Torbay. His mother was a Champernoun of purest Norman descent, and "could probably boast of having in her veins the blood of Courtneys, Emperors of Byzant." Sir Otho had three sons by this lady, John, Humphrey, and Adrian, who all proved to be men of superior abilities. They were all three knighted by Elizabeth, a distinction which, coming from the hands of the great Queen, marked its recipient as a gentleman and a brave warrior. Sir Otho died, and his widow married Walter Raleigh, a gentleman of ancient blood but impoverished, and at the time living at Hayes, Devon. To her second husband the fair Champernoun bore a son whose fame was destined to be world-wide, and who, in a period more prolific of great men and great events than any before or since, played a gallant part, and was also knighted, as Sir Walter Raleigh, by Queen Bess. Thus Sir Humphrey Gilbert and Sir Walter Raleigh were half-brothers, each being trained in the simple and manly yet high-bred ways of English gentlemen. When Humphrey Gilbert grew up he embraced the profession of arms, and won high distinction in Continental and Irish wars. At length, in his mature manhood, he and his distinguished half-brother Raleigh formed the design of first colonizing Newfoundland, and then the neighboring islands and continent. Hence we find him on August 5, 1583, standing on the beach in the harbor of St. John's. Sir Walter Raleigh had embarked on the same expedition, but a contagious disease broke out on board his ship which compelled his return.

The enterprise of Sir Humphrey Gilbert was worthy of a heroic and patriotic nobleman. It was, nevertheless, doomed to end in disaster and death. In prosecuting further explorations one of Sir Humphrey's vessels was wrecked and the whole crew perished. The little fleet had struggled with contrary winds for many days. Eventually the Delight, the largest vessel, drifted into the breakers on a lee shore and struck upon a rock. She went rapidly to pieces. Seventeen of the crew got into the longboat, and, after seven days, fifteen of them reached port. But the captain, Morris Browne, refused to leave the ship. "Mounting upon the highest deck," says the ancient chronicler, "he attained imminent death, so inevitable." The other vessels stood out to sea and saved themselves. As winter was approaching and provisions getting low, Sir Humphrey deemed it wise to steer for England. He had planted his flag on board the Squirrel, a little cockle-shell of ten tons, and though earnestly entreated to go on board the larger vessel, the Golden Hind, he refused to abandon his brave comrades. A great storm overtook them near the Azores. The Golden Hind kept as near the Squirrel as possible; and when in the midst of the tempest the crew saw the gallant knight sitting calmly on deck with a book before him, they heard him cry to his companions, "Cheer up, lads, we are as near heaven at sea as on land!" When the curtain of night shrouded the little bark, she and her gallant crew disappeared beneath the dark billows of the Atlantic. Thus perished Sir Humphrey Gilbert, scholar, soldier, colonizer, philosopher, one of the noblest of those brave hearts that sought to extend the dominion of England in the New World.

To Newfoundland this sad loss was irreparable. Had Sir Humphrey lived to reach home, no doubt he and Sir Walter Raleigh would have renewed their efforts at colonization, and, profiting by past errors, would have settled in the island men of the right stamp. Sir Humphrey Gilbert's failure was the result of a succession of uncontrollable disasters. Fully appreciating the immense value of the fisheries of Newfoundland, he seems to have been thoroughly impressed with the idea that the right way of prosecuting those fisheries was to colonize the country, and conduct them on the spot, whereby he would have established a resident population, who would have combined fishing with the cultivation of the soil. It was a departure from this policy, and a determination, at the behest of selfish monopolists, to make the island a mere fishing-station, that postponed for many weary years the prosperity of the colony, blighting the national enterprise, and paralyzing the energies of the people.

ASSASSINATION OF WILLIAM OF ORANGE

DIVISION OF THE NETHERLANDS

A.D. 1584

JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY

Throughout the earlier period of the "heroic age of the Netherlands"
William of Orange, the natural leader of his people, displayed
qualities of foresight, prudence, and courage worthy of the position
which he held. Without great generalship, "he knew how to wait and
turn his reverses to account." His life was constantly in danger and
was repeatedly attempted, but his resolution was never disturbed by
fear. While meriting the surname of the "Silent," he expressed
himself effectively in the decisive speech of action.

The Pacification of Ghent (1576)--the union of the seventeen Netherland
provinces, of which William was at the head--was of short duration.
The northern provinces were Protestant, the southern mostly Catholic.
Diverse trade interests also prevented perfect union. Compromise was
attempted without avail. The Southern provinces acknowledged Philip
II, while the seven Northern provinces--Holland, Zealand, Utrecht,
Gelderland, Overyssel, Friesland, and Groningen--formed themselves
(1579) into the Union of Utrecht, a federal republic, with William
of Orange as stadtholder.

A little later the Spanish government published a ban against the
Prince and set a price upon his head. Many attempts against his life
were made by assassins eager for the promised reward. How the
treacherous end was finally compassed is told by Motley with all the
dramatic realism necessary for a faithful description of the scene.

In March, 1583, one Pietro Dordogno was executed in Antwerp for endeavoring to assassinate the Prince. Before his death he confessed that he had come from Spain solely for the purpose, and that he had conferred with La Motte, Governor of Gravelines, as to the best means of accomplishing his design. In April, 1584, Hans Hanzoon, a merchant of Flushing, had been executed for attempting to destroy the Prince by means of gunpowder concealed under his house in that city and under his seat in the church. He confessed that he had deliberately formed the intention of performing the deed, and that he had discussed the details of the enterprise with the Spanish ambassador in Paris.

At about the same time one Le Goth, a captive French officer, had been applied to by the Marquis de Richebourg, on the part of Alexander of Parma, to attempt the murder of the Prince. Le Goth had consented, saying that nothing could be more easily done, and that he would undertake to poison him in a dish of eels, of which he knew him to be particularly fond. The Frenchman was liberated with this understanding, but, being very much the friend of Orange, straightway told him the whole story and remained ever afterward a faithful servant of the states. It is to be presumed that he excused the treachery to which he owed his escape from prison on the ground that faith was no more to be kept with murderers than with heretics.

Within two years there had been five distinct attempts to assassinate the Prince, all of them with the privity of the Spanish government. A sixth was soon to follow. In the summer of 1584 William of Orange was residing at Delft, where his wife, Louisa de Coligny, had given birth, in the preceding winter, to a son, afterward the celebrated stadtholder Frederick Henry. The child had received these names from his two godfathers, the kings of Denmark and of Navarre, and his baptism had been celebrated with much rejoicing on June 12th, in the place of his birth.

It was a quiet, cheerful, yet somewhat drowsy little city, that ancient burgh of Delft. The placid canals by which it was intersected in every direction were all planted with whispering, umbrageous rows of limes and poplars, and along these watery highways the traffic of the place glided so noiselessly that the town seemed the abode of silence and tranquillity. The streets were clean and airy, the houses well built, the whole aspect of the place thriving.

One of the principal thoroughfares was called the Old Delft Street. It was shaded on both sides by lime-trees, which in that midsummer season covered the surface of the canal which flowed between them with their light and fragrant blossoms. On one side of this street was the "Old Kirk," a plain, antique structure of brick, with lancet windows, and with a tall, slender tower, which inclined, at a very considerable angle, toward a house upon the other side of the canal. That house was the mansion of William the Silent. It stood directly opposite the church, being separated by a spacious court-yard from the street, while the stables and other offices in the rear extended to the city wall. A narrow lane, opening out of Delft Street, ran along the side of the house and court in the direction of the ramparts. The house was a plain, two-storied edifice of brick, with red-tiled roof, and had formerly been a cloister dedicated to St. Agatha, the last prior of which had been hanged by the furious Lumey de la Marck.[1]

[1] Francis, Duke of Anjou, the French accomplice of Catherine de'
Medici in persecution of the Protestants, is elsewhere described
by Motley as "the most despicable personage who had ever entered
the Netherlands."

The news of Anjou's death had been brought to Delft by a special messenger from the French court. On Sunday morning, July 8, 1584, the Prince of Orange, having read the despatches before leaving his bed, caused the man who had brought them to be summoned, that he might give some particular details by word of mouth concerning the last illness of the Duke. The courier was accordingly admitted to the Prince's bedchamber, and proved to be one Francis Guion, as he called himself. This man had, early in the spring, claimed and received the protection of Orange, on the ground of being the son of a Protestant at Besançon who had suffered death for his religion and of his own ardent attachment to the reformed faith. A pious, psalm-singing, thoroughly Calvinistic youth he seemed to be, having a Bible or a hymn-book under his arm whenever he walked the street, and most exemplary in his attendance at sermon and lecture. For the rest, a singularly unobtrusive personage, twenty-seven years of age, low of stature, meagre, mean-visaged, muddy-complexioned, and altogether a man of no account--quite insignificant in the eyes of all who looked upon him. If there were one opinion, in which the few who had taken the trouble to think of the puny, somewhat shambling stranger from Burgundy at all, coincided, it was that he was inoffensive, but quite incapable of any important business. He seemed well educated, claimed to be of respectable parentage, and had considerable facility of speech when any person could be found who thought it worth while to listen to him; but on the whole he attracted little attention.

Nevertheless this insignificant frame locked up a desperate and daring character; this mild and inoffensive nature had gone pregnant seven years with a terrible crime, whose birth could not much longer be retarded. Francis Guion, the Calvinist, son of a martyred Calvinist, was in reality Balthazar Gérard, a fanatical Catholic, whose father and mother were still living at Villefans in Burgundy. Before reaching man's estate he had formed the design of murdering the Prince of Orange, "who, so long as he lived, seemed like to remain a rebel against the Catholic King, and to make every effort to disturb the repose of the Roman Catholic apostolic religion."

When but twenty years of age he had struck his dagger with all his might into a door, exclaiming as he did so, "Would that the blow had been in the heart of Orange!" For this he was rebuked by a bystander, who told him it was not for him to kill princes, and that it was not desirable to destroy so good a captain as the Prince, who, after all, might one day reconcile himself with the King.

The "inveterate deliberation," thus thoroughly matured, Gérard now proceeded to carry into effect. He came to Delft, obtained a hearing of Villers, the clergyman and intimate friend of Orange, and was somewhat against his will sent to France, to Maréchal Biron, who, it was thought, was soon to be appointed governor of Cambray. Through Orange's recommendation the Burgundian was received into the suite of Noel de Caron, Seigneur de Schoneval, then setting forth on a special mission to the Duke of Anjou. While in France Gérard could rest neither by day nor night, so tormented was he by the desire of accomplishing his project, and at length he obtained permission, upon the death of the Duke, to carry this important intelligence to the Prince of Orange. The despatches having been intrusted to him, he travelled post-haste to Delft, and, to his astonishment, the letters had hardly been delivered before he was summoned in person to the chamber of the Prince. Here was an opportunity such as he had never dared to hope for. The arch-enemy to the Church and to the human race, whose death would confer upon his destroyer wealth and nobility in this world, besides a crown of glory in the next, lay unarmed, alone, in bed, before the man who had thirsted seven long years for his blood.

Balthazar could scarcely control his emotions sufficiently to answer the questions which the Prince addressed to him concerning the death of Anjou, but Orange, deeply engaged with the despatches, and with the reflections which their deeply important contents suggested, did not observe the countenance of the humble Calvinist exile, who had been recently recommended to his patronage by Villers. Gérard had, moreover, made no preparation for an interview so entirely unexpected, had come unarmed, and had formed no plan for escape. He was obliged to forego his prey when most within his reach, and, after communicating all the information which the Prince required, he was dismissed from the chamber.

It was Sunday morning, and the bells were tolling for church. Upon leaving the house he loitered about the court-yard, furtively examining the premises, so that a sergeant of halberdiers asked him why he was waiting there. Balthazar meekly replied that he was desirous of attending divine worship in the church opposite, but added, pointing to his shabby and travel-stained attire, that, without at least a new pair of shoes and stockings, he was unfit to join the congregation. Insignificant as ever, the small, pious, dusty stranger excited no suspicion in the mind of the good-natured sergeant. He forthwith spoke of the wants of Gérard to an officer, by whom they were communicated to Orange himself, and the Prince instantly ordered a sum of money to be given him. Thus Balthazar obtained from William's charity what Parma's thrift had denied--a fund for carrying out his purpose.

Next morning, with the money thus procured, he purchased a pair of pistols, or small carabines, from a soldier, chaffering long about the price because the vender could not supply a particular kind of chopped bullets or slugs which he desired. Before the sunset of the following day, that soldier had stabbed himself to the heart, and died despairing, on hearing for what purpose the pistols had been bought.

On Tuesday, July 10, 1584, at about half-past twelve, the Prince, with his wife on his arm, and followed by the ladies and gentlemen of his family, was going to the dining-room. William the Silent was dressed upon that day, according to his usual custom, in very plain fashion. He wore a wide-leaved, loosely shaped hat of dark felt, with a silken cord round the crown--such as had been worn by the Beggars in the early days of the revolt. A high ruff encircled his neck, from which also depended one of the Beggars' medals, with the motto, "_Fidèles au roy jusqu'à la besace_," while a loose surcoat of gray frieze cloth, over a tawny leather doublet, with wide, slashed underclothes, completed his costume. Gérard presented himself at the doorway and demanded a passport. The Princess, struck with the pale and agitated countenance of the man, anxiously questioned her husband concerning the stranger. The Prince carelessly observed that "it was merely a person who came for a passport," ordering, at the same time, a secretary forthwith to prepare one. The Princess, still not relieved, observed in an undertone that "she had never seen so villanous a countenance." Orange, however, not at all impressed with the appearance of Gérard, conducted himself at table with his usual cheerfulness, conversing much with the burgomaster of Leewarden, the only guest present at the family dinner, concerning the political and religious aspects of Friesland.

At two o'clock the company rose from table. The Prince led the way, intending to pass to his private apartments above. The dining-room, which was on the ground floor, opened into a little square vestibule, which communicated, through an arched passageway, with the main entrance into the court-yard. This vestibule was also directly at the foot of the wooden staircase leading to the next floor, and was scarcely six feet in width. Upon its left side, as one approached the stairway, was an obscure arch, sunk deep in the wall, and completely in the shadow of the door. Behind this arch a portal opened to the narrow lane at the side of the house. The stairs themselves were completely lighted by a large window, half way up the flight. The Prince came from the dining-room, and began leisurely to ascend. He had only reached the second stair, when a man emerged from the sunken arch, and, standing within a foot or two of him, discharged a pistol full at his heart. Three balls entered his body, one of which, passing quite through him, struck with violence against the wall beyond. The Prince exclaimed in French, as he felt the wound: "O my God, have mercy upon my soul! O my God, have mercy upon this poor people!"

These were the last words he ever spoke, save that, when his sister, Catherine of Schwarzburg, immediately afterward asked him if he commended his soul to Jesus Christ, he faintly answered, "Yes." His master of the horse, Jacob van Maldere, had caught him in his arms as the fatal shot was fired. The Prince was then placed on the stairs for an instant, when he immediately began to swoon. He was afterward laid upon a couch in the dining-room, where in a few minutes he breathed his last in the arms of his wife and sister.

The murderer succeeded in making his escape through the side door, and sped swiftly up the narrow lane. He had almost reached the ramparts, from which he intended to spring into the moat, when he stumbled over a heap of rubbish. As he rose he was seized by several pages and halberdiers, who had pursued him from the house. He had dropped his pistols upon the spot where he had committed the crime, and upon his person were found a couple of bladders, provided with a piece of pipe, with which he had intended to assist himself across the moat, beyond which a horse was waiting for him. He made no effort to deny his identity, but boldly avowed himself and his deed. He was brought back to the house, where he immediately underwent a preliminary examination before the city magistrates. He was afterward subjected to excruciating tortures; for the fury against the wretch who had destroyed the "father of the country" was uncontrollable, and William the Silent was no longer alive to intercede--as he had often done before--in behalf of those who assailed his life.

The sentence pronounced against the assassin was execrable--a crime against the memory of the great man whom it professed to avenge. It was decreed that the right hand of Gérard should be burned off with a red-hot iron, that his flesh should be torn from his bones with pincers in six different places, that he should be quartered and disembowelled alive, that his heart should be torn from his bosom and flung in his face, and that, finally, his head should be taken off. Not even his horrible crime, with its endless consequences, not the natural frenzy of indignation which it had excited, could justify this savage decree, to rebuke which the murdered hero might have almost risen from the sleep of death. The sentence was literally executed on July 14th, the criminal supporting its horrors with the same astonishing fortitude. So calm were his nerves, crippled and half roasted as he was ere he mounted the scaffold, that, when one of the executioners was slightly injured in the ear by the flying from the handle of the hammer with which he was breaking the fatal pistol in pieces, as the first step in the execution--a circumstance which produced a general laugh in the crowd--a smile was observed upon Balthazar's face in sympathy with the general hilarity. His lips were seen to move up to the moment when his heart was thrown in his face. "Then," said a looker-on, "he gave up the ghost."

The reward promised by Philip to the man who should murder Orange was paid to the heirs of Gérard. Parma informed his sovereign that the "poor man" had been executed, but that his father and mother were still living, to whom he recommended the payment of that "merced" which "the laudable and generous deed had so well deserved." This was accordingly done, and the excellent parents, ennobled and enriched by the crime of their son, received, instead of the twenty-five thousand crowns promised in the Ban, the three seigniories of Livermont, Hostal, and Dampmartin, in the Franche Comté, and took their place at once among the landed aristocracy. Thus the bounty of the Prince had furnished the weapon by which his life was destroyed, and his estates supplied the fund out of which the assassin's family received the price of blood. At a later day, when the unfortunate eldest son of Orange returned from Spain after twenty-seven years' absence, a changeling and a Spaniard, the restoration of those very estates was offered to him by Philip II provided he would continue to pay a fixed proportion of their rents to the family of his father's murderer. The education which Philip William had received, under the King's auspices, had, however, not entirely destroyed all his human feelings and he rejected the proposal with scorn. The estates remained with the Gérard family, and the patents of nobility which they had received were used to justify their exemption from certain taxes, until the union of Franche-Comté with France, when a French governor tore the documents in pieces and trampled them under foot.

The life and labors of Orange had established the emancipated commonwealth upon a secure foundation, but his death rendered the union of all the Netherlands into one republic hopeless. The efforts of the malcontent nobles, the religious discord, the consummate ability, both political and military, of Parma, all combined with the lamentable loss of William the Silent to separate forever the Southern and Catholic provinces from the Northern confederacy. So long as the Prince remained alive, he was the father of the whole country, the Netherlands--saving only two Walloon provinces--constituting a whole. Notwithstanding the spirit of faction and the blight of the long civil war, there was at least one country, or the hope of a country, one strong heart, one guiding head, for the patriotic party throughout the land. Philip and Granvella were right in their estimate of the advantage to be derived from the Prince's death; in believing that an assassin's hand could achieve more than all the wiles which Spanish or Italian statesmanship could teach, or all the armies which Spain or Italy could muster. The pistol of the insignificant Gérard destroyed the possibility of a united Netherland state, while during the life of William there was union in the policy, unity in the history of the country.

NAMING OF VIRGINIA: FIRST DESCRIPTION OF THE INDIANS

THE LOST COLONY

A.D. 1584

ARTHUR BARLOW R. R. HOWISON

At the age of thirty-two Sir Walter Raleigh had already been
connected with navigating and colonizing expeditions to North
America. He was associated with the enterprise of his elder
half-brother, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, who in 1583 established at St.
John's, Newfoundland, the first English colony beyond seas. Upon the
death of Gilbert, in that year, Raleigh succeeded to his enterprise,
and obtained from Queen Elizabeth, whose favorite he was, a charter
of colonization.

When next year he sent out his first expedition to find some
suitable spot for a colony on the North American coast, Raleigh took
warning from the unfortunate experiences of Gilbert in the northern
latitudes, and directed his two commanders, Philip Amidas and Arthur
Barlow, to take another route. They accordingly took the old way by
the Canary Islands.

History is fortunate in possessing Barlow's account of this voyage.
It has, as one writer says, "all the freshness and gayety of an
idyl. His description of the sweet smell wafted to the voyagers from
the American shore, as from some delicate garden abounding with all
kinds of odoriferous flowers, was noticed by Bacon, and utilized by
Dryden to flatter one of his patrons."

Howison's story of the ill-starred colony and the conjectural refuge
of its remnants among the Croatan Indians of Virginia--as Raleigh
named the whole region, including the present North Carolina--fittingly
completes the history of Sir Walter's American enterprise. The
failure of the colony has been freely charged to his own neglect,
occasioned by the turning of his mind to more brilliant prospects
presented by the illusory "El Dorado," whereby so many other
adventurers were misled.

ARTHUR BARLOW

The 27. day of April, in the year of our redemption 1584, we departed the west of England, with two barks well furnished with men and victuals, having received our last and perfect directions by your letters, confirming the former instructions and commandments delivered by yourself at our leaving the river of Thames. And I think it a matter both unnecessary, for the manifest discovery of the country, as also for tediousness' sake, to remember unto you the diurnal of our course, sailing thither and returning; only I have presumed to present unto you this brief discourse, by which you may judge how profitable this land is likely to succeed, as well to yourself, by whose direction and charge, and by whose servants, this our discovery hath been performed, as also to her highness and the commonwealth. In which we hope your wisdom will be satisfied, considering that as much by us hath been brought to light as by those small means and number of men we had could anyway have been expected or hoped for.

The tenth of May in this present year we arrived at the Canaries, and the tenth of June we were fallen with the islands of the West Indies, keeping a more southwesterly course than was needful, because we doubted about the current of the Bay of Mexico, disboguing between the Cape of Florida and Havana, had been of greater force than afterward we found it to be. At which islands we found the air very unwholesome, and our men grew for the most part ill-disposed: so that having refreshed ourselves with sweet water and fresh victual, we departed the twelfth day of our arrival here. These islands, with the rest adjoining, are so well known to yourself, and to many others, as I will not trouble you with the remembrance of them.

The second of July we found shoal water, where we smelt so sweet and so strong a smell, as if we had been in the midst of some delicate garden, abounding with all kind of odoriferous flowers; by which we were assured that the land could not be far distant. And keeping good watch and bearing but slack sail, the fourth of the same month we arrived upon the coast, which we supposed to be a continent and firm land, and we sailed along the same one hundred twenty English miles before we could find any entrance, or river issuing into the sea. The first that appeared unto us we entered, though not without some difficulty, and cast anchor about three arquebuse-shot within the haven's mouth, on the left hand of the same; and after thanks given to God for our safe arrival thither, we manned our boats, and went to view the land next adjoining, and to take possession of the same in the right of the Queen's most excellent majesty, as rightful queen and princess of the same, and after delivered the same over to your use, according to her majesty's grant and letters-patent, under her highness' great seal. Which being performed, according to the ceremonies used in such enterprises, we viewed the land about us, being, whereas we first landed, very sandy and low toward the water's side, but so full of grapes as the very beating and surge of the sea overflowed them. Of which we found such plenty, as well there as in all places else, both on the sand and on the green soil on the hills as in the plains, as well on every little shrub as also climbing toward the tops of high cedars, that I think in all the world the like abundance is not to be found: and myself having seen those parts of Europe that most abound, find such difference as were incredible to be written.

We passed from the sea side toward the tops of those hills next adjoining, being but of mean[1] height; and from thence we beheld the sea on both sides, to the north and to the south, finding no end any of both ways.[2] This land lay stretching itself to the west, which after we found to be but an island of twenty miles long and not above six miles broad. Under the bank or hill whereon we stood we beheld the valleys replenished with goodly cedar-trees, and having discharged our arquebuse-shot such a flock of cranes--the most part white--arose under us, with such a cry redoubled by many echoes, as if an army of men had shouted all together.

[1] Middle.

[2] Either way.

This island had many goodly woods full of deer, coneys, hares, and fowl, even in the midst of summer, in incredible abundance. The woods were not such as you find in Bohemia, Moscovia, or Hercynia, barren and fruitless, but the highest and reddest cedars of the world, far bettering the cedars of the Azores, of the Indies, or Libanus; pines, cypress, sassafras, the lentisk, or the tree that beareth the mastic; the tree that beareth the rind of black cinnamon, of which Master Winter brought from the Straits of Magellan; and many other of excellent smell and quality. We remained by the side of this island two whole days before we saw any people of the country. The third day we espied one small boat rowing toward us, having in it three persons. This boat came to the island side, four arquebuse-shot from our ships; and there two of the people remaining, the third came along the shore side toward us, and we being then all within board, he walked up and down upon the point of the land next unto us.

Then the master and the pilot of the admiral, Simon Ferdinando, and the captain, Philip Amidas, myself, and others, rowed to the land; whose coming this fellow attended, never making any shew of fear or doubt. And after he had spoken of many things, not understood by us, we brought him, with his own good liking, aboard the ships, and gave him a shirt, a hat, and some other things, and made him taste of our wine and our meat, which he liked very well; and after having viewed both barks, he departed, and went to his own boat again, which he had left in a little cove or creek adjoining. As soon as he was two bow-shot into the water he fell to fishing, and in less than half an hour he had laden his boat as deep as it could swim, with which he came again to the point of the land, and there he divided his fish into two parts, pointing one part to the ship and the other to the pinnace. Which, after he had, as much as he might, requited the former benefits received, departed out of our sight.

The next day there came unto us divers boats, and in one of them the King's brother, accompanied with forty or fifty men, very handsome and goodly people, and in their behavior as mannerly and civil as any of Europe. His name was Granganimeo, and the King is called Wingina; the country, Wingandacoa, and now, by her majesty, Virginia. The manner of his coming was in this sort: he left his boats, altogether as the first man did, a little from the ships by the shore, and came along to the place over against the ships, followed with forty men. When he came to the place, his servants spread a long mat upon the ground, on which he sat down, and at the other end of the mat four others of his company did the like; the rest of his men stood round him somewhat afar off. When we came to the shore to him, with our weapons, he never moved from his place, nor any of the other four, nor never mistrusted any harm to be offered from us; but, sitting still, he beckoned us to come and sit by him, which we performed; and, being set, he made all signs of joy and welcome, striking on his head and his breast and afterward on ours, to shew we were all one, smiling and making shew the best he could of all love and familiarity. After he had made a long speech unto us we presented him with divers things, which he received very joyfully and thankfully. None of the company durst speak one word all the time; only the four which were at the other end spake one in the other's ear very softly.

The King is greatly obeyed and his brothers and children reverenced. The King himself in person was at our being there sore wounded in a fight, which he had with the King of the next country, called "Piemacum," and was shot in two places through the body, and once clean through the thigh, but yet he recovered; by reason whereof, and for that he lay at the chief town of the country, being six days' journey off, we saw him not at all.

After we had presented this his brother with such things as we thought he liked, we likewise gave somewhat to the other that sat with him on the mat. But presently he arose and took all from them and put it into his own basket, making signs and tokens that all things ought to be delivered unto him, and the rest were but his servants and followers. A day or two after this we fell to trading with them, exchanging some things that we had for chamois, buff, and deer skins. When we shewed him all our packet of merchandise, of all things that he saw a bright tin dish most pleased him, which he presently took up and clapped it before his breast, and after making a hole in the brim thereof and hung it about his neck, making signs that it would defend him against his enemies' arrows. For those people maintain a deadly and terrible war with the people and King adjoining.

We exchanged our tin dish for twenty skins, worth twenty crowns or twenty nobles; and a copper kettle for fifty skins, worth fifty crowns. They offered us good exchange for our hatchets and axes, and for knives, and would have given anything for swords; but we would not depart with any. After two or three days the King's brother came aboard the ships and drank wine, and eat of our meat and of our bread, and liked exceedingly thereof. And after a few days overpassed, he brought his wife with him to the ships, his daughter, and two or three children. His wife was very well favored, of mean stature, and very bashful. She had on her back a long cloak of leather, with the fur side next to her body, and before her a piece of the same, About her forehead she had a band of white coral, and so had her husband many times. In her ears she had bracelets of pearls hanging down to her middle, whereof we delivered your worship a little bracelet, and those were of the bigness of good peas. The rest of her women of the better sort had pendants of copper hanging in either ear, and some of the children of the King's brother and other noblemen have five or six in either ear; he himself had upon his head a broad plate of gold, or copper; for, being unpolished, we knew not what metal it should be, neither would he by any means suffer us to take it off his head; but feeling it, it would bow very easily. His apparel was as his wife's, only the women wear their hair long on both sides, and the men but on one. They are of color yellowish, and their hair black for the most part; and yet we saw children that had very fine auburn and chestnut-colored hair.

After that these women had been there, there came down from all parts great store of people, bringing with them leather, coral, divers kinds of dyes very excellent, and exchanged with us. But when Granganimeo, the King's brother, was present, none durst trade but himself, except such as wear red pieces of copper on their heads like himself; for that is the difference between the noblemen and the governors of countries, and the meaner sort. And we both noted there, and you have understood since by these men which we brought home, that no people in the world carry more respect to their king, nobility, and governors than these do. The King's brother's wife, when she came to us--as she did many times--was followed with forty or fifty women always. And when she came into the ship she left them all on land, saving her two daughters, her nurse, and one or two more.

The King's brother always kept this order: as many boats as he would come withal to the ships, so many fires would he make on the shore afar off, to the end we might understand with what strength and company he approached. Their boats are made of one tree, either of pine or of pitch trees; a wood not commonly known to our people, nor found growing in England. They have no edge-tools to make them withal; if they have any they are very few, and those, it seems, they had twenty years since, which, as those two men declared, was out of a wrack, which happened upon their coast, of some Christian ship, being beaten that way by some storm and outrageous weather, whereof none of the people were saved, but only the ship, or some part of her, being cast upon the sand, out of whose sides they drew the nails and the spikes, and with those they made their best instruments. The manner of making their boats is thus: they burn down some great tree, or take such as are windfallen, and, putting gum and resin upon one side thereof, they set fire into it, and when it hath burned it hollow they cut out the coal with their shells, and ever where they would burn it deeper or wider they lay on gums, which burn away the timber, and by this means they fashion very fine boats, and such as will transport twenty men. Their oars are like scoops, and many times they set with long poles, as the depth serveth.