The Story of Newfoundland | Page 6

loss in infancy would have been irretrievably grave. How nearly it was lost will appear in the following pages.
Newfoundland, as was fitting for one of the largest islands in the world, and an island, too, drawing strategic importance from its position, was often conspicuous in that titanic struggle between England and France for sea power, and therefore for the mastery of the world, which dwarfs every other feature of the eighteenth century. Nor did she come out of the struggle quite unscathed. Ill-informed or indifferent politicians in the Mother Country neglected to push home the fruits of victory on behalf of the colony which the struggle had convulsed, and the direct consequence of this neglect may be seen in the French fishery claims, which long distracted the occasional leisure of the Colonial Office. Newfoundland has indeed been hardened by centuries of trial. For years its growth was arrested by the interested jealousy of English merchants; and its maturity was vexed by French exactions, against which Canada or Australia would long ago have procured redress. Newfoundland has been the patient Griselda of the Empire, and the story of her triumph over moral and material difficulties--over famine, sword, fire, and internal dissension--fills a striking chapter in the history of British expansion.
That keen zest for geographical discovery, which was one of the most brilliant products of the Renaissance, was slow in making its appearance in England. Nor are the explanations far to seek. The bull (1494) of a notorious Pope (Alexander VI.)--lavish, as befits one who bestows a thing which he cannot enjoy himself, and of which he has no right to dispose--had allocated the shadowy world over the sea to Spain and Portugal, upon a fine bold principle of division; and immediately afterwards these two Powers readjusted their boundaries in the unknown world by the Treaty of Tordesillas (1494), which could not, however, be considered as binding third parties. The line of longitude herein adopted was commonly held to have assigned Newfoundland to Portugal, but the view was incorrect. England was still a Catholic country, and for all its independence of the Pope in matters temporal, the effects of such a bull must have been very considerable. Nor did the personal character of Henry VII. incline him to the path of adventure; and on the few occasions when he was goaded to enterprise, almost in spite of himself, we are able to admire the prudence of a prince who was careful to insert two clauses in his charter of adventure: the first protecting himself against liability for the cost, the second stipulating for a share of the profits. It is to the robust insight of Henry VIII. into the conditions of our national existence that the beginnings of the English Navy are to be ascribed, and it was under this stubborn prince that English trade began to depend upon English bottoms. But the real explanation of Anglo-Saxon backwardness lies somewhat deeper. Foreign adventure and the planting of settlements must proceed, if they are to be successful, from an exuberant State; neither in resources, nor in population, nor, perhaps it must be added, in the spirit of adventure, was the England of King Henry VII. sufficiently equipped. Hence it happened that foreign vessels sailed up the Thames, or anchored by the quays of Bideford in the service of English trade, at a time when the spirit of Prince Henry the Navigator had breathed into the Portuguese service, when Diaz was discovering the Cape, and the tiny vessels of Da Gama were adventuring the immense voyage to Cathay.
It is now clearly established that the earliest adventurers in America were men of Norse stock. More than a thousand years ago Greenland was explored by Vikings from Iceland, and a hundred years later Leif Ericsson discovered a land--Markland, the land of woods--which is plausibly identified with Newfoundland. Still keeping a southern course, the adventurer came to a country where grew vines, and where the climate was strangely mild; it is likely enough that this landfall was in Massachusetts or Virginia. The name Vinland was given to the newly-discovered country. The later voyages of Thorwald Ericsson, of Thorlstein Ericsson--both brothers of Leif--and of Thorfinn Karlsefne, are recounted in the Sagas. The story of these early colonists or "builders," as they called themselves, is weakened by an infusion of fable, such as the tale of the fast-running one-legged people; but with all allowances, the fact of Viking adventure on the American mainland is unquestioned and unquestionable, though we may say of these brave sailors, with Professor Goldwin Smith, that nothing more came of their visit, or in that age could come, than of the visit of a flock of seagulls.
It has been asserted by some writers that Basque navigators discovered the American continent a century before Cabot or