THE CABOT VOYAGES—JOHN CABOT, 1497 AND 1498
The subject of the Cabot voyages is one of the most puzzling in history,
ranking indeed with the identity of Shakespeare as a battle-ground for
the exponents of conflicting theories. The trouble arises from the fact
that, while John and Sebastian Cabot actually lived and performed
important discoveries in the dim days of England’s awakening from the
sleep of mediaeval ignorance, few of their contemporaries felt
sufficient interest in their exploits to write down a clear account of
them for the benefit of posterity. Consequently the contemporary records
are vague, ambiguous, and wofully incomplete, leaving (when purged of
all uncertainties) little more of absolute truth than that John Cabot
made two voyages across the Atlantic in 1497 and 1498, discovering some
part of what is now British North America in the course of the first of
them.
The progress of discovery in the sixteenth century produced numerous
historians to narrate its annals. These men, living for the most part in
Spain and Italy, had to turn for their information, in default of access
to State archives, to such survivors of the exploits themselves as they
were able to get into touch with. John Cabot had died soon after his
great discovery, and, since his men were for the most part English, not
one of them came in contact with any of the historians of southern
Europe. The latter had therefore to seek information from Sebastian
Cabot, his second son, who entered the service of Spain in 1512, lived
in that country for five and thirty years, and returned to pass the last
decade of his life in England, dying at a great age in 1557. Sebastian
Cabot, then, not only moulded the foreign version of his story, but also
in England was the sole link between the late fifteenth century, when
men of letters took no interest in ocean voyages, and the mid-sixteenth,
when the country was beginning to realize that her future lay upon the
water. Thus the first ‘expansionist’ writer in England, Richard Eden,
sat at Sebastian’s feet and drank in his stories of ancient discovery,
which in this way secured acceptance as the whole truth and nothing but
the truth until the sceptical nineteenth century began to institute a
more searching inquiry.
Sebastian Cabot was a vain egoist, fond of giving vent to mysterious,
bombastic utterances containing a maximum of self-praise and a minimum
of hard fact. So, when appealed to by the historians for information on
North American explorations, he said nothing of his father’s two voyages
of 1497 and 1498, in which he may have taken part, and the details of
which he must have been familiar with, but described instead a
subsequent expedition, which he had himself commanded, in search of a
north-west passage round America to Asia. The sixteenth-century
histories therefore contain _no mention_ of John Cabot, and the accounts
found therein _have no bearing whatever_ on his two voyages.[43] A
recognition of this fact is essential because it has been very generally
believed that there were only two Cabot voyages, whereas there were
actually three; and that Sebastian, in describing himself as commander
of a north-western expedition, was talking of the original discovery in
1497 or of the following voyage in 1498, and taking the credit of them
to himself. In reality, Sebastian Cabot was telling the truth in
describing his own voyage, and merely suppressing the truth in saying
nothing of his father’s. In other words, he was not so great a liar as
he has been painted.
Turning first to John Cabot’s discovery of North America, by him thought
to be eastern Asia, in 1497, and his second voyage to the same region in
1498, it will be convenient first to state the sources of information,
and afterwards to examine the conclusions to which they lead.
On March 5, 1496, Letters Patent were granted to the Cabot family by
Henry VII, to the following effect:
Permission to John Cabottus and to Ludovicus, Sebastianus, and Sanctus
his sons to take five ships at their own charges, to navigate in any
seas to the east, north, or west, and to occupy and possess any new
found lands hitherto unvisited by Christians. They were to voyage only
from and to the port of Bristol, and were to be exempt from the
payment of customs on goods brought from the new lands. No other
subjects of the king were to trade to the new lands without licence
from the Cabots. In return for these privileges one-fifth of all
profits were to be paid to the king.
News of the project reached the ears of de Puebla, the Spanish
ambassador in England, who transmitted it to his sovereigns. His letter
to them is lost, but their reply, dated March 28, 1496, was as follows:
‘You write that a person like Columbus has come to England for the
purpose of persuading the king to enter into an undertaking similar to
that of the Indies, without prejudice to Spain and Portugal. He is
quite at liberty. But we believe that the undertaking was thrown in
the way of the King of England by the King of France with the
premeditated intention of distracting him from his other business.
Take care that the King of England be not deceived on this or in any
other matter. The French will try as hard as they can to lead him into
such undertakings, but they are very uncertain enterprises, and must
not be gone into at present. Besides, they cannot be executed without
prejudice to us and to the King of Portugal.’[44]
The remainder of 1496 was consumed in preparations or, less probably, an
unsuccessful voyage was made in that year. In any case, John Cabot set
out in 1497, found land on the other side of the ocean, and was back by
the beginning of August. The following letters describe the voyage:
Lorenzo Pasqualigo to his brothers in Venice, August 23, 1497.
'The Venetian, our countryman, who went with a ship from Bristol in
quest of new islands, is returned, and says that 700 leagues hence he
discovered land, the territory of the Grand Cham. He coasted for 300
leagues and landed; saw no human beings, but he has brought hither to
the king certain snares which had been set to catch game, and a needle
for making nets; he also found some felled trees, wherefore he
supposed that there were inhabitants, and returned to his ship in
alarm.
'He was three months on the voyage, and on his return he saw two
islands to starboard, but would not land, time being precious as he
was short of provisions. He says that the tides are slack and do not
flow as they do here. The King of England is much pleased with this
intelligence.
'The King has promised that in the spring our countryman shall have
ten ships, armed to his order, and at his request has conceded him all
the prisoners, except such as are confined for high treason, to man
his fleet. The King has also given him money wherewith to amuse
himself till then, and he is now at Bristol with his wife, who is also
Venetian, and with his sons; his name is Zuan Cabot, and he is styled
the Great Admiral. Vast honour is paid him; he dresses in silk, and
these English run after him like mad people, so that he can enlist as
many of them as he pleases, and a number of our own rogues besides.
'The discoverer of these places planted on his new found land a large
cross, with one flag of England and another of S. Mark, by reason of
his being a Venetian, so that our banner has floated very far afield.
‘London, 23rd August, 1497.’[45]
Raimondo de Soncino to the Duke of Milan, August 24, 1497.
‘... Also some months ago His Majesty sent out a Venetian, who is a
very good mariner, and has good skill in discovering new islands, and
he has returned safe, and has found two very large and fertile new
islands; having likewise discovered the seven cities, four hundred
leagues from England, on a western passage. This next spring, his
majesty means to send him with 15 to 20 ships.’[46]
Raimondo de Soncino to the Duke of Milan, December 18, 1497. From the
State Archives of Milan. Printed for the first time in English in
_Narrative and Critical History of America_, edited by Justin Winsor,
Cambridge, Mass., 1886, vol. iii. The Cabot section is by Charles Deane,
F.S.A.
‘Most illustrious and excellent my lord:
‘Perhaps among your Excellency’s many occupations, it may not
displease you to learn how his Majesty here has won a part of Asia
without a stroke of the sword. There is in this Kingdom a Venetian
fellow, master John Caboto by name, of a fine mind, greatly skilled in
navigation, who seeing that those most serene kings, first he of
Portugal, then the one of Spain, have occupied unknown islands,
determined to make a like acquisition for his Majesty aforesaid. And
having obtained royal grants that he should have the usufruct of all
that he should discover, provided that the ownership of the same is
reserved to the crown, with a small ship and 18 persons he committed
himself to fortune; and having set out from Bristol, a western port of
this kingdom, and passed the western limits of Hibernia, and then
standing to the northward he began to steer eastward (sic), having
(after a few days) the north star on his right hand; and having
wandered about considerably, at last he fell in with terra firma,
where, having planted the royal banner, and taken possession on behalf
of this king, and taken certain tokens, he has returned thence. The
said Master John, as being foreign-born and poor, would not be
believed, if his comrades, who are almost all Englishmen and from
Bristol, did not testify that what he says is true. This Master John
has the description of the world in a chart, and also in a solid globe
which he has made, and he (or the chart and the globe) shows where he
landed, and that going towards the east (sic) he passed considerably
beyond the country of the Tanais. And they say that it is a very good
and temperate country, and they think that Brasil wood and silks grow
there; and they affirm that the sea is covered with fishes, which are
caught not only with the net, but with baskets, a stone being tied in
them in order that the baskets may sink in the water. And this I heard
the said master John relate, and the aforesaid Englishmen his comrades
say they will bring so many fishes that the kingdom will no longer
have need of Iceland, from which country there comes a great store of
fish called stockfish. But Master John has set his mind on something
greater; for he expects to go further on towards the East (Levant),
from that place already occupied, constantly hugging the shore, until
he shall be over against an island, by him called Cipango, situated in
the equinoctial region, where he thinks all the spices of the world,
and also the precious stones, originate; and he says that in former
times he was at Mecca, whither spices are brought by caravans from
distant countries, and that those who brought them, on being asked
where the said spices grow, answered that they do not know, but that
other caravans came to their homes with this merchandise from distant
countries, and these again say that they are brought to them from
other remote regions. And he argues thus—that if the Orientals
affirmed to the southerners that these things came from a distance
from them, and so from hand to hand, presupposing the rotundity of the
earth, it must be that the last ones get them at the north towards the
west, and he said it in such a way that, having nothing to gain or
lose by it, I too believe it, and what is more, the King here, who is
wise and not lavish, likewise puts some faith in him; for since his
return he has made good provision for him, as the same Master John
tells me. And it is said that, in the spring, his Majesty aforenamed
will fit out some ships, and will besides give him all the convicts,
that they will go to that country to make a colony, by means of which
they hope to establish in London a greater storehouse of spices than
there is in Alexandria; and the chief men of the enterprise are of
Bristol, great sailors, who, now that they know where to go, say that
it is not a voyage of more than fifteen days, nor do they ever have
storms after they get away from Hibernia. I have also talked with a
Burgundian, a comrade of Master John’s, who confirms everything, and
wishes to return thither because the Admiral (for so Master John
already entitles himself) has given him an island; and he has given
another one to a barber of his from Castiglione of Genoa, and both of
them regard themselves as counts, nor does my Lord the Admiral esteem
himself anything less than a Prince. I think that with this expedition
there will go several poor Italian monks, who have all been promised
bishoprics. And, as I have become a friend of the Admiral’s, if I
wished to go thither I should get an archbishopric. I humbly commend
myself,
‘Your Excellency’s
‘Very humble servant,
Raimundus.’
The next two letters mainly concern the second voyage, that of 1498:
Pedro de Ayala to Ferdinand and Isabella, July 25, 1498.
‘I think your Majesties have already heard that the King of England
has equipped a fleet in order to discover certain islands and
continents which he was informed some people from Bristol, who manned
a few ships for the same purpose last year, had found. I have seen the
map which the discoverer has made, who is another Genoese like
Columbus, and who has been in Seville and Lisbon asking assistance for
his discoveries. The people of Bristol have, for the last seven years,
sent out every year two, three or four light ships (_caravelas_) in
search of the island of Brasil and the seven cities, according to the
fancy of this Genoese. The King determined to send out ships because,
the year before, they brought certain news that they found land. His
fleet consisted of five vessels, which carried provisions for one
year. It is said that one of them, in which one Friar Buil went, has
returned to Ireland in great distress, the ship being much damaged.
The Genoese has continued his voyage. I have seen, on a chart, the
direction they took and the distance they sailed; and I think that
what they have found, or what they are in search of, is what your
Highnesses already possess. It is expected that they will be back in
the month of September. I write this because the King of England has
often spoken to me on this subject, and he thinks that your Highnesses
will take great interest in it. I think it is not further distant than
400 leagues. I told him that, in my opinion, the land was already in
the possession of your Majesties, but though I gave him my reasons, he
did not like them. I believe that your Highnesses are already informed
of this matter, and I do not now send the chart or _mapa mundi_ which
that man has made, and which, according to my opinion, is false, since
it makes it appear that the land in question was not the said
islands.’[47]
De Puebla to Ferdinand and Isabella, July 25 (?), 1498. Printed in the
Hakluyt Society’s _Journal of Columbus_, 1893.
‘The King of England sent five armed ships with another Genoese like
Columbus to search for the island of Brasil and others near it. They
were victualled for a year. They say that they will be back in
September. By the direction they take, the land they seek must be the
possession of your Highnesses. The King has sometimes spoken to me
about it, and seems to take a very great interest in it. I believe
that the distance from here is not 400 leagues.’
A second charter, granted on February 2, 1498, also bears upon the
second voyage:
Petition of ‘John Kabotto, Venetian,’ for a charter in the following
terms, which was accordingly granted: Authority and power to John
Cabot ‘that he by him, his deputie, or deputies sufficient’ may take
six ships, up to 200 tons burden, and voyage to ‘the lande and isles
of late founde by the seid John’. All subjects of the King to give
every assistance in their power to Cabot for the furtherance of the
enterprise.
The successful return of John Cabot in 1497 has some traces in the
records of official business:
Grant from the Privy Purse of Henry VII, August 10, 1497, ‘To him who
found the New Isle, £10’.[48]
Pension grant of £20 per annum to John Cabot, December 13, 1497.
‘Henry by the grace of God, etc. to John, Cardinal Archbishop of
Canterbury etc., Our Chancellor, greeting. We let you wit that we, for
certain considerations us specially moving, have given and granted
unto our well-beloved John Calbot of the parts of Venice an annuity or
annual rent of £20 sterling, to be had and yearly perceived from the
Feast of the Annunciation of Our Lady last past, during our pleasure,
of our customs and subsidies coming and growing in our port of
Bristol, by the hands of our customers there for the time being, at
Michaelmas and Easter, by even portions. Wherefore we will and charge
you that under our Great Seal ye do make thereupon our letters patent
in good and effectual form. Given under our Privy Seal, at our palace
of Westminster, the 15th day of December, the 13th year of our
Reign.’[49]
Together with this may be taken the authorization for the immediate
payment of the pension, which would seem to have been delayed, dated
February 22, 1498.[50] Both these documents are printed by Mr. C. R.
Beazley in his _John and Sebastian Cabot_ (1898).
Memoranda of loans of £20 to Launcelot Thirkill of London, ‘going
towards the new island’, March 22, 1498; £30 to Thomas Bradley and
Launcelot Thirkill, ‘going to the New Isle’, April 1, 1498; and 40
shillings and five pence to John Carter, ‘going to the new isle’.[51]
Launcelot Thirkill’s name appears again in a document of 1501, which
shows that he returned safely from this voyage (the second), if indeed
he actually performed it.
In this category also falls the important discovery made in 1897 among
the Westminster Chapter Archives,[52] consisting of the accounts of the
Customers of Bristol for the years 1497–8 and 1498–9. These accounts
show that John Cabot’s pension of £20 was paid during the years named.
He is mentioned by name, and the customers deduct the amount of the
pension from the total receipts which they hand over to the Exchequer
officers.
A manuscript chronicle, of unknown authorship, in the British
Museum,[53] contains a reference to the second voyage, ostensibly
written before its return:
'This yere (1498) the Kyng at the besy request and supplicacion of a
straunger Venisian, which by a chart made hymself expert in knowyng of
the world, caused the Kyng to manne a ship w^t. vytaill and other
necessaries for to seche an Iland wheryn the said straunger surmysed
to be grete comodities. W^t which ship by the Kyng’s grace so rygged
went iij or iiij moo owte of Bristowe, the said straunger beyng
conditor of the said fleete, wheryn divers m’chants as well of London
as Bristow aventured goods and sleight m’chandises, which dep’ted from
the west cuntrey in the begynnyng of somer but to this p’sent moneth
came nevir knowledge of their exployt.'
Stow and Hakluyt both quote from a manuscript chronicle, then in the
possession of the former, but now lost. Hakluyt says it was written by
Robert Fabyan. Stow’s version (1615 edition, p. 481), almost identical
with Hakluyt’s except as regards the name of the explorer, runs thus:
'1498, an. reg. 14. This yeere one Sebastian Gabato, a Genoa’s sonne,
borne in Bristow, professing himself to be expert in knowledge of the
circuit of the world and islands of the same, as by his charts and
other reasonable demonstrations he showed, caused the King to man and
victual a ship at Bristow to search for an Iland, which he knew to be
replenished with commodities. In the ship divers merchants of London
adventured small stocks, and in the company of this ship, sayled also
out of Bristow three or foure smal shippes fraught with sleight and
grosse wares, as course cloth, caps, laces, points and such other....
'1502, ann. reg. 18. This yeere were brought unto the King three men
taken in the new found Ilands, by Sebastian Gabato, before named, in
anno 1498. These men were clothed in beasts’ skins, and eate raw
flesh, but spake such a language as no man could understand them, of
the which three men, two of them were seen in ye King’s court at
Westminster two yeares after, clothed like Englishmen, and could not
be discerned from Englishmen.'
Hakluyt’s version adds at the end of the 1498 extract: 'And so departed
from Bristow in the beginning of May, of whom in this Maior’s time
returned no tidings'; and at the end of the 1502 extract: ‘but as for
speach, I heard none of them utter one word’. (The Mayor referred to was
William Purchas, whose term of office expired at the end of October
1498.) Hakluyt printed this extract from the now lost Fabyan chronicle
in his _Divers Voyages_ (1582), and again in his _Principal Navigations_
(1599). The two versions differ in two respects: in _Divers Voyages_ the
name of John Cabot is omitted, he being simply designated ‘a Venetian’;
while the bringing of the savages to England is placed in the eighteenth
year of Henry VII's reign instead of the fourteenth as in _Principal
Navigations_. Stow’s own extract, as has been seen, calls the explorer
Sebastian Gabato. The variations were intentional rather than
accidental, as it was the habit of both editors to amend their material
where they considered it to be in error, without drawing attention to
the fact. The truth probably is that Hakluyt had no warrant for his
alteration of the date of the arrival of the savages, other than his
ignorance of later voyages and consequent assumption that Cabot must
have brought them. It is now known that other expeditions were made in
the early years of the sixteenth century, and that these savages were
most probably kidnapped by one of them, thus having nothing to do with
the Cabots.
The final piece of evidence bearing on John Cabot is that contained in
an inscription on a map of the world published in 1544, and attributed,
with fair certainty, to Sebastian Cabot himself. An example of this map
came to light during the nineteenth century, and is now at Paris. The
inscription relating to the Cabots was translated by Hakluyt from a copy
of the map which was in the possession of Queen Elizabeth at
Westminster. Copies of it were numerous in England in Elizabeth’s time.
‘In the yere of our Lord 1497 [1494 in Paris copy], John Cabot a
Venetian, and his sonne Sebastian (with an English fleet set out from
Bristoll) discovered that land which no man before that time had
attempted, on the 24th of June, about five of the clocke early in the
morning. This land he called Prima Vista, that is to say, First seene,
because as I suppose it was that part whereof they had the first sight
from the sea. That Island which lieth out before the land, he called
the Island of S. John on that occasion, as I thinke, because it was
discovered on the day of John the Baptist. The inhabitants of this
Island use to weare beastes skinnes and have them in as great
estimation as we have our finest garments. In their warres they use
bowes, arrowes, pikes, darts, woodden clubs, and slings. The soile is
barren in some places, and yeeldeth little fruit, but it is full of
white beares, and stagges farre greater then ours. It yeeldeth plenty
of fish, and those very great, as seales, and those which commonly we
call salmons: there are soles also above a yard in length: but
especially there is great abundance of that kinde of fish which the
savages call baccalaos. In the same Island also there breed hauks, but
they are so blacke that they are very like to ravens, as also their
partridges, and egles, which are in like sorte blacke.’
The two Letters Patent granted by Henry VII afford some information as
to the Cabot family and the intentions of the king. Owing to their
length and verbosity they have been merely summarized here, but they
have been frequently printed _in extenso_. In the first of them occurs
the only mention of the name of Sebastian Cabot in strictly contemporary
documents (contemporary, that is, with the voyages). It has been deduced
that, since Sebastian was evidently the second son and at least a year
older than Sanctus, and since the name of a minor would not appear in
such a charter, Sebastian must have been twenty-two years old at least
in 1496. Another point to be noticed is that permission was given to
sail to the east, the west, or the north, but not to the south. Henry
VII was on friendly terms with both Spain and Portugal, and wished to
remain so; he was therefore careful not to allow Cabot to trespass on
their routes, although he was quite aware that the end in view—i.e. the
discovery of a sea-passage to Asia—was identical with theirs. He was not
prepared to risk a quarrel for an unachieved advantage, but was
evidently ready to do so if a lucrative trade were proved to be
possible; otherwise he would not have engaged in the adventure at all.
The second charter is evidently intended to supplement, but not to
supersede, the first. It omits the provisions as to customs, monopoly,
and payments to the king, and confines itself to the details of the
second expedition. It is valuable as proving beyond doubt that John
Cabot commanded on the first voyage, and was successful in finding land.
There is no mention in it of any of his sons, and no other document for
nearly fifty years associates Sebastian with John’s discoveries, the
next joint reference to the pair occurring in the map of 1544. This,
however, is no proof that Sebastian did _not_ sail on these expeditions,
and the point must be regarded as doubtful.
It should be noted that the terms of the first charter are such that it
holds good for an indefinite time, and that no new grant was really
needed for making further voyages. Therefore the fact that no third
charter exists does not preclude the possibility of voyages having taken
place other than those of 1497 and 1498.
The six contemporary letters, all of them unknown until the latter half
of the nineteenth century, are the most valuable authorities remaining
for the deeds of John Cabot. The evidence they afford is of the highest
class, since they are written by observant third parties, and not by the
explorer or his sovereign for the purpose of glorifying their own
achievements. In particular, the letters of Pasqualigo and Soncino,
which give the greatest amount of information on the first voyage,
represent the conclusions formed by intelligent bystanders with no
personal interest in the affair, and writing with the sole object of
giving useful news to the recipients. They are therefore free from the
taint of possible bias and self-interest, which is inherent in the later
statements of Sebastian Cabot, and any misstatements they contain are
the result of ignorance rather than intention.
The Venetian colony in London was rich and numerous, and its members
must naturally have taken a deep interest in the exploit of their
countryman. Pasqualigo was an important member of it, and probably
became personally acquainted with Cabot or some of his followers. His
letter has an air of accuracy, and the details given, although meagre,
are not fanciful, with the exception of the distances, which are
probably loose statements of members of the crew. Considering that Cabot
was only three months on the voyage, it is hardly possible that he could
have coasted for 300 leagues.
There is a great contrast between the two letters of Soncino. The first,
written soon after the arrival of Cabot in London, is evidently based on
hearsay and rumour, and contains no fact of importance. The second
dispatch of Soncino is a news-letter written several months after the
return of the 1497 expedition, and shows that in the interim the writer
has taken great pains to obtain full information on the subject. The
letter is a model of clearness and businesslike arrangement. The writer
gives authorities for his statements; he has talked with Cabot and with
members of his crew; he has listened to the explorer’s demonstrations,
probably in the presence of the king and the court; he gives some idea
of Cabot’s character and personality, and the amount of credence which
should be paid to him; and when he falls back on rumour he is careful to
insert ‘it is said’. He has evidently displayed such an intelligent
interest that Cabot has offered him a place in the next expedition. Full
value may therefore be assigned to the facts in his letter. When Soncino
speaks of sailing to the east, he means of course the west. He had in
mind that the new land was thought to be the Far East although reached
by a western route.
The letter from Ferdinand and Isabella is useful as showing the jealousy
of Spain at the projected enterprise even before it had started. The
same sentiment is again strongly expressed in Pedro de Ayala’s letter
two years later, and, although it does not appear from the available
documents that any official remonstrance was addressed to Henry VII,
Spanish disapproval must, nevertheless, have had its share in causing
the gradual abandonment of American enterprises in the early years of
the sixteenth century.
Ayala’s letter, written after the sailing of the second expedition, is
the only one of the series which contains any positive facts as to that
expedition. It has an unsatisfying air of vagueness and, as regards the
first voyage, is not nearly so precise as Soncino’s long account. This
is partly due to the fact that the details of the matter were already
known to the Spanish sovereigns, and there was thus no need to enter
deeply into them. One point in the letter has been made the basis of a
rather revolutionary theory as to the second expedition, namely, that
John Cabot was in Seville and Lisbon during the winter of 1497–8,
recruiting men for his second voyage. This theory is built upon the
general statement that Cabot had sought assistance in those places. An
interpretation which makes him do so in 1497–8 is hardly allowable. In
the first place we know that he could get plenty of men in England,
where also investors came forward readily and the greatest enthusiasm
prevailed; secondly, it is not likely that he would have trusted himself
in Seville at that time, having regard to the feelings of the Spanish
Government on the subject; and thirdly, a winter voyage to the Peninsula
was a risky undertaking if the traveller were pressed for time. In the
then state of navigation he might easily be detained for weeks and
months by bad weather;[54] and John Cabot could not afford to risk the
postponement of his expedition for a year, with its possible
abandonment, or the appointment of another to command it in his stead.
On the contrary, the natural and probable interpretation of the
statement is that Cabot had sought a hearing for his plans in Spain and
Portugal before coming to England; and even at that, it is quite a ‘by
the way’ remark and lacks corroboration. The same may be said as to the
caravels annually sent out from Bristol; Ayala was not in England during
the period referred to, and was probably repeating a piece of current
gossip.
The few facts he relates of the 1498 voyage rest on surer ground, as
having occurred under the writer’s more immediate attention. The five
ships are mentioned elsewhere, and that number is thus probably correct.
The ‘Friar Buil’ referred to was possibly a Spanish spy: it is singular
that his name alone of all the adventurers is thought worthy of mention
to the Spanish sovereigns. Unless such an obscure man was an agent of
theirs, it is difficult to see what interest they could have had in
hearing of him. The assertion that Cabot’s charts were falsified
entirely lacks confirmation, and there is no ground for believing it.
Ayala was suspicious and prejudiced, and ready to impute dishonest
intentions to England. It is noticeable that in affairs quite separate
from this one he took up a more hostile attitude towards Henry VII than
did his superior, de Puebla. He had a great admiration for Scotland, in
which country he had been ambassador, and this may have engendered a
corresponding hatred of England.
The information, such as it is, afforded by the rewards to John Cabot
and the loans to his associates in the second expedition is, of
necessity, absolutely trustworthy. The documents in question were
written for immediate business purposes, with no idea of their ever
being used to elucidate the story of the discoveries.
The unfinished account of the 1498 voyage, given in the anonymous
British Museum chronicle, has evidently some near relationship to that
contained in the lost Fabyan manuscript copied by Hakluyt and Stowe. It
is probable that Fabyan based his account on the former chronicle,
adding the note on the savages from his own knowledge, but not troubling
to relate the fate of the 1498 voyage. This in itself gives ground for
presuming that the expedition in question returned in safety without
achieving any striking results. If none of the vessels ever came back, a
possibility that has been suggested, Fabyan would hardly have refrained
from commenting on such a sensational occurrence. As it is, he merely
records the fact that they had not returned by the end of October 1498,
and there leaves the matter. Existing editions of Fabyan contain no
reference to the Cabots.
The famous map of 1544, of which the only copy now known to exist is in
the Bibliothèque Nationale of Paris, is generally agreed to be the work
of Sebastian Cabot, or at least, based on information supplied by him.
The inscriptions upon it, descriptive of various countries, are in Latin
or Spanish, the majority in both. Typographical considerations indicate
that it was not printed in Spain—the printer does not use the Spanish
_tilde_ over the n—and Antwerp has been suggested as the most likely
place of origin. The inscription given above, relating to the Cabot
discovery, was translated by Hakluyt from a similar map which he saw at
Westminster, and Hakluyt’s translation agrees very closely with a modern
translation from the Paris map, showing that they are from one and the
same source. The voyage described is obviously the first one, but the
local colour as to the natives and their habits must have been supplied
from later experiences, as the contemporary letters expressly assert
that John Cabot saw no inhabitants on the first expedition. The date of
the discovery is given on the Paris map as MCCCCXCIIII (1494), but this
may be explained as a careless error for MCCCCXCVII, due to bad writing.
It should be noted that this inscription is the earliest authority for
the statement that land was sighted on June 24 at 5 a.m., and that the
island of St. John was discovered and named on the same day. There seems
to be no good reason why the statements on the map should not be
believed, other than that they proceed from a tainted source. Sebastian
Cabot’s reputation for veracity is certainly under a cloud, even when he
is acquitted of giving false information about his explorations. In
other matters he undoubtedly lied freely and frequently.[55]
The ground being now cleared by a necessary, if tedious, appraisement of
values, it is possible to relate what is known of John Cabot’s voyages.
It had been owing to a mere accident that Christopher Columbus had not
sailed under the English flag on his first epoch-making voyage to the
west. In 1485, after vainly attempting to interest the sovereigns of
Portugal and Spain in his ideas, he had dispatched his brother
Bartholomew to England, to lay his plans before Henry VII. But
Bartholomew Columbus had suffered disaster on his journey. After being
robbed by pirates in the narrow seas, he was further delayed by sickness
and poverty before being able to lay his brother’s case before the king.
When he was at length successful in doing so, Henry listened with
sympathy and promised assistance, but, being preoccupied with other
matters, he postponed the adventure until too late. When he did finally
make up his mind to take the affair in hand, it was only to hear that
Christopher Columbus had already sailed from Palos in the service of
Ferdinand and Isabella.
Henry had missed a great chance, partly through his own fault, and must
have realized his mistake when news began to spread through Europe of
the discovery of rich islands on the western route to Cathay, as all men
supposed the new land to be. It was considered at the English court a
thing ‘more divine than human’ to have reached the Far East by way of
the west, and the anticipations of the advantages of the new discovery
must have exceeded even the reality. Throughout the Middle Ages the
imagination of all who were capable of thought had been stimulated by
glowing accounts of the riches and wonders of the East. The experiences
of Marco Polo and many another wanderer of lesser fame had been spread
broadcast through Europe; such adventures lose nothing in the telling,
and indeed the material civilization of Asia compared not unfavourably
with that of mediaeval Christendom; hence to reach Cathay became the
ambition of many a restless mind. The Venetians and the Genoese were
content to trade with the Asiatic merchants who brought their goods
overland to the ports of the Levant. The Portuguese navigators, excluded
from the Mediterranean, pushed successively further and further down the
coast of Africa in the hope of finding a way round it into the Indian
Ocean. They had not yet succeeded when, in 1495, Columbus returned with
his report of rich islands to the west, and it was universally believed
that he had solved the problem in the simplest possible way.
To the western nations of Europe this news was more especially
important, and so, when John Cabot petitioned Henry VII, three years
later, for permission to make similar discoveries, he obtained a patent
from that king without difficulty. Cabot was of Genoese birth, although
a naturalized citizen of Venice, and he had been for some years settled
at Bristol. He had taken part in the Venetian trade to the Levant, and
had on one occasion travelled as far as Mecca. At that place, a busy
centre of exchange for eastern goods, he questioned the merchants as to
the source of the supply of spices, drugs, perfumes, rare silks, and
precious stones, in which they dealt. They replied that these goods were
transported by successive caravans from a vast distance, and that they
themselves had never visited the countries that produced them. This
suggested to Cabot a similar train of reasoning to that of Columbus: it
was evident that the long land journey and the laborious transport and
exchange from hand to hand must immensely add to the original cost of
the produce which Europe valued so highly; great wealth was therefore in
store for the man and the country which should first find a practicable
sea route to the orient. Cabot, like Columbus, based his plans on the
sphericity of the earth, and came to the conclusion that the shortest
way to the east was by the west. It is unknown whether it was in
consequence of these ideas that he came to England. It may well have
been so, for it was evidently of little use to urge such plans in
Venice. The Italian merchants stood to lose instead of gaining by any
alteration of the trade routes, and, moreover, could be cut off from
access to the Atlantic at the pleasure of the power which could block
the straits of Gibraltar. Whatever his reasons, John Cabot came to
Bristol, bringing his wife and family with him. In after years his son
Sebastian, when it suited him to make himself out an Englishman, claimed
to have been born in Bristol; but as Sebastian cannot have been born
later than 1474, and John was not naturalized as a Venetian till 1476,
it is hardly possible that Sebastian’s statement was true. The year
1476, therefore, is the earliest possible date for John Cabot’s arrival
in Bristol, and the probability is strong that he did not settle there
for several years after that.
Bristol was the largest seaport of the west of England, and, in the
fifteenth century, a most important branch of its trade was with
Iceland, whence the Bristol ships fetched quantities of stockfish. It is
possible that traditions of early Norse voyages to ‘Vineland’ still
lingered in northern regions and were picked up by the Bristol sailors.
There were other legends current of lands to the west: the island of
Brasil, marked on many mediaeval maps; the blissful isle of St. Brandan,
actually supposed to have been visited by a shadowy Irish saint of
antiquity; and the Seven Cities, said to have been founded by Spanish
bishops fleeing from the fury of invading Moors when the Cross fell
before the Crescent on the banks of the Guadalete. Moved either by these
traditions or by the new scientific reasonings of men like Cabot, the
Bristol merchants undoubtedly felt an interest in the possibilities of
the unexplored Atlantic. There are rumours of their having sent out
ships towards the west before 1497, but unfortunately they rest on no
solid basis of proof.
Things were at this stage when, in the winter of 1495–6, Henry VII
visited Bristol, and we may suppose that John Cabot took the opportunity
of petitioning the king for a charter which should place the enterprise
on a more regular footing. On March 5, 1496, the patent was drawn out,
in the terms already described. For reasons unknown, more than a year
elapsed before John Cabot started on his first recorded voyage. He set
out in the early summer of 1497 in a small ship with a crew of eighteen
men, mostly Englishmen of the port of Bristol. In addition to Cabot, and
possibly his sons, there were among the crew two other foreigners, one a
Burgundian, probably a Netherlander, and the other a Genoese. A
document, generally known as the Fust MS., and now destroyed, gave the
name of Cabot’s ship as the _Matthew_, and the dates of the voyage as
May 2 (departure) and August 6 (return). Authorities are at variance as
to the authenticity of the Fust MS. The use of the word ‘America’ in a
record ostensibly written several years before that name was first
invented seems to brand it as an imposture, but it may have been written
up in the form of a year-to-year chronicle several years after the date
contained in it, and still have embodied true information. The dates
given tally approximately with what is known from other evidence.
After leaving Bristol the explorers passed the south of Ireland, and
then steered northwards for an indeterminable time—‘a few days’—Cabot’s
intention apparently being to reach a certain parallel of latitude, and
then to follow it westwards. He knew that the further north he went, the
less would be the distance to be traversed, owing to the decreasing
circumference of the earth and the general lie of the land of eastern
Asia, which was roughly known. When he had made sufficient way to the
north, he turned westwards, and, after considerable wandering, sighted
land. The ‘wandering’ may simply mean that he sailed westwards for a
long time, or that he was diverted to the north or south. In any case
the wording is so vague that the actual course cannot be even
approximately laid down.
In the map of 1544 it is stated that the landfall was in the
neighbourhood of Cape Breton, and that it was made on June 24 at 5 a.m.;
also, that an island near the land was visited on the same day and named
the Island of St. John. The doubts cast on the authenticity of this
inscription have already been considered. On the whole, Cape Breton
seems the likeliest place for the landfall, although the most learned
authorities are hopelessly at variance on the point, some favouring Cape
Breton, others Newfoundland, and others Labrador. With the knowledge at
present available the problem must be pronounced insoluble. The date,
June 24, is a little late, as it allows less than half the total
duration of the voyage for the coasting and return journey; but this is
not impossible if the coasting was restricted and the return was made
with more favourable winds than the outward passage. We know, from an
absolutely trustworthy source, that Cabot was back in London by August
10, and thus probably at Bristol some days earlier.
The land discovered had a temperate climate. In view of Sebastian
Cabot’s accounts, which have sometimes been read as applying to this
voyage, it is important to notice that no mention is made of ice or any
extraordinary length of day, points which would certainly have been
remarked by Pasqualigo or Soncino, if they had been narrated by the
returning crew. An immense quantity of fish was encountered off the
coast.
After planting the flags of England and Venice at the place where he
first landed, John Cabot coasted for some distance. Probably the 300
leagues of Pasqualigo’s letter is a mistake, being incompatible with the
total duration of the voyage. It has been suggested that ‘leagues’
should read ‘miles’. The direction of the coasting, whether northwards
or southwards, is likewise not stated. Cabot saw signs of habitation,
but no actual inhabitants; and doubtless he was not anxious to see any,
for a crew of eighteen all told would not furnish a landing party with
which he could confidently face all comers. This first voyage was merely
for the purpose of reconnoitring and preparing the way for a greater
enterprise. It was a pity that the reconnaissance was not more thorough,
for it might have saved much disappointment afterwards. As it was, Cabot
was firmly convinced that he had reached the north-eastern coast of
Asia, ‘the territory of the Grand Cham’, which the Spaniards were
thought to be on the track of, although they had not yet arrived there.
However, provisions began to run short, and he turned his ship
homewards, passing on the way two islands which he had not time to
explore. He arrived at Bristol in the early days of August.
John Cabot travelled at once to London to lay his report before the
king. He carried with him his charts and a globe with which to
demonstrate his discoveries; and he was so far successful in convincing
the prudent and parsimonious monarch of the value of the new land that
the latter made him an immediate grant of £10 from the Privy Purse (ten
to twelve times as much in modern money), and later allotted him a
pension of £20 a year. The royal sanction, if not a more substantial
aid, was promised for a much larger expedition to sail in the following
year for the purpose, not only of exploring, but also of founding
colonies and trading posts. Cabot and his contemporaries were still
under the impression that he had found the east of Asia. He admitted
that he had only touched the fringe of the golden land, but he asserted
that he had only to sail with a larger and better-found expedition, with
provisions to last for a year’s voyage, and to follow the coast
westwards and southwards to the tropic region, to arrive at the
wonderful island of Cipango,[56] the source of the world’s supply of
spices and precious stones. He had a persuasive tongue, and his
arguments were absolutely convincing to the minds of all who heard them,
from the cool and calculating king to the hard-headed merchants of
London, and still more to hot-blooded adventurers, whose ears already
tingled with wondrous tales of the Spanish Indies. He was everywhere
sought after and fêted. He dressed in silk and assumed the title of
Admiral. In their own imagination he and all his men were princes and
nobles; to the surgeon of the _Matthew_ he gave an island; to a
Burgundian among his crew he gave another.
From London, Cabot went back to Bristol, there to be lionized and to
make preparations for the adventure of the following year. On February
3, 1498, the king issued a second patent, made out this time to John
Cabot alone, without mention of his sons, empowering him to take six
ships and pursue his discoveries on much the same terms as those of the
first patent. It is not evident that the State contributed anything to
this fleet beyond a cheap and convenient permission to take convicts
from the gaols to do the hard work of the proposed colony. Most probably
Henry VII was a shareholder in his private capacity, as he seems to have
been as much convinced as any of his subjects of the profits that were
to accrue.
But soon the king was to receive a significant hint of trouble from a
quarter whence he doubtless expected it. Even before Cabot had obtained
his first patent, in 1496, Spanish jealousy had been aroused at the
prospect of a voyage to the west. De Puebla had evidently reported what
was going forward to his sovereigns, and in their reply to him occurs
the statement that such enterprises ‘cannot be executed without
prejudice to us and to the King of Portugal’. Evidently they were
prepared to take their stand on the Bull of Alexander VI, which divided
between Spain and Portugal all the undiscovered parts of the world, and
which had been confirmed by the Treaty of Tordesillas between those two
nations in 1494. Whether de Puebla communicated this protest to Henry or
not we do not know. Probably he did not, as he always showed himself
extremely anxious to curry favour with that monarch. But in 1498 Pedro
de Ayala, another Spanish agent, was also in London, and to him the king
frequently spoke of the new voyages in order to sound him as to the
opinion of the Spanish court. De Ayala claimed stoutly that the lands
which the English were trying to discover were already in the possession
of Spain, and he gave his reasons, which, he says, the king did not
like. Henry, however, could not afford to quarrel with Spain, and from
this time forward he seemed to become half-hearted in his approval of
western projects.
With regard to John Cabot’s second voyage, only the intentions of the
explorer and the circumstances of his start from Bristol are known. The
former were as follows: Sailing with several ships laden with English
manufactured goods—‘coarse cloth, caps, laces, points, and such
other’—he proposed to return to the land which he had discovered on the
first voyage, and thence to follow the coast which, as he had observed,
trended towards the south-west, until he arrived in the tropical
latitudes. There he expected to find, over against the land, the rich
island of Cipango—the island replenished with great commodities of the
chronicles—and in it to establish, if not a colony in the true sense of
the word, at least a permanent trading post. This is evidenced by the
proposal to take several priests, and also the convicts, who would be
useless on the voyage, but would do the hard work of planting a new
settlement. The programme was naturally very distasteful to the
Spaniards, since the position of Cipango, in John Cabot’s ideas, must
have been in the same latitude as their own discoveries, although lying
further to the west.
Everything in the contemporary letters, and also in the chronicles,
points to the fact that Cabot, in common with every other thinking man
in 1497–8, had no suspicion of the existence of the separate continent
now called America, and that he intended to make for the tropical region
of the coast of eastern Asia. Indeed, it is inconceivable that he, a
much-travelled man, who had experience of tropical climates and their
products, should have sailed northwards to look for spices, unless we
are to assume that he knew that America was not Asia and was
consequently looking for a north-west passage. That assumption a careful
reading of the evidence renders untenable. This matter of the intended
destination of the second voyage is the point at which the commonly
received versions of the Cabot problem go astray, the accepted theory
being that the second expedition was an attempt to force a passage round
the north of the new continent and so into the Pacific. But it cannot be
too strongly emphasized that John Cabot had not the remotest intention
of sailing round the north of what he took to be Asia, since such a
course, if persisted in, would have brought him, according to his
charts, back to the North Sea and the British Isles!
All preparations being complete, he sailed from Bristol in the beginning
of May 1498. He had with him his own ship, manned and victualled, if the
chroniclers are to be believed, at the king’s private expense, and three
or four smaller vessels fitted out by the merchants of London and
Bristol, some of whom had also been financed from the Privy Purse. Pedro
de Ayala states that the fleet numbered five in all, and also reports,
but only as a rumour, that one of them put back to an Irish port in
consequence of damage, sustained presumably in a storm. The ships were
provisioned for a year, and Cabot expected to be home again by
September. In the outcome, however, nothing had been heard of him as
late as the end of October.
Here unfortunately our knowledge of John Cabot leaves the realm of sober
fact, and degenerates into mere theory and speculation. History is
totally silent as to the progress of this voyage, launched with such a
great acclaim; as to its vicissitudes, as to the date, place, and
circumstances of its ending, nothing whatever is known. It is only
through the cumulative effect of side-winds, none of them absolutely
conclusive, that it can be deduced that Cabot’s squadron reached the
American coast, and that he himself, with part at least of his men,
returned in safety.
First, as to his personal survival. This was always considered extremely
doubtful until the discovery of the Bristol Customers' accounts for
1497–9, which prove beyond doubt that, until Michaelmas 1499, annual
pension of £20 was still being paid. It is conceivable of course, that
the pension was being drawn by an accredited agent, his wife for
example, so that there is no positive proof that he was in Bristol
during that year. But it may, as a minimum, be confidently asserted that
he was not known to be dead, since in that case no agent could have
drawn the pension without obtaining fresh official papers. Hence, either
Cabot returned in safety from the 1498 voyage, or else no word had been
heard of his fleet for nearly eighteen months. The balance of
probability is certainly in favour of the former alternative.
One of the persons to whom loans were granted from the Privy Purse was
Launcelot Thirkill, of London, ‘going towards the new island’. A later
document shows this man to have been in England in 1501. Consequently,
if he accompanied the fleet, as he evidently intended, some part of it
must have returned in safety.
[Illustration:
THE NORTH ATLANTIC.
From the map of Juan de la Cosa, 1500. The earliest map showing
English discoveries.
]
A still more probable testimony to the return of Cabot’s expedition, and
to its having coasted extensively on the other side of the Atlantic, is
furnished by the map of the Spanish pilot, Juan de la Cosa, drawn up in
the year 1500. It is a map of the world as known at the time, and
includes a part of the east coast of North America, with flags marking
the places visited by the English. The flags are intended to represent
the English standard, and some of the names, although translated into
Spanish, are such as English explorers might have given; others are
unintelligible. They are as follows, reading from south-west to
north-east:
Mar descubierto por Yngleses, cavo descubierto, C. de S. Jorge,
lagofor, anfor, C. de S. Luzia, requilia, jusquei, S. Luzia, C. de
lisarto, menistre, argair, fonte, rio longo, ilia de la trenidat, S.
Nicolas, Cavo de S. Johan, agron, C. fastanatra, Cavo de Ynglaterra,
S. Grigor, y verde.
The map is so unlike the real coastline that it is impossible to
identify definitely any of the places mentioned. In addition, there are
no lines of latitude or longitude. The most plausible interpretation is
that ‘Cavo de Ynglaterra’, the most northerly point marked on the
mainland, is Cape Race, and that the southernmost flag represents a
point on the coast of Virginia or Carolina, possibly Cape Hatteras.
However, this is mere guesswork, as is shown by the divergent views
taken by equally competent authorities. The only indisputable
information obtainable from the map is the fact that the English did
actually coast along a large part of the North American littoral before
the year 1500. It is practically certain that the map embodies the
geographical knowledge gained in John Cabot’s second voyage, since the
amount of coasting shown is too extensive for the first voyage, the
southernmost English flag being placed more than three-quarters of the
entire distance down from the Cabo de Ynglaterra to the point of
Florida. The only fact which weakens the value of the map’s evidence for
the 1498 voyage is the possibility that it embodies information from
Sebastian Cabot’s expedition, which, as will be shown, probably took
place in 1499. It is possible that la Cosa had seen the charts of the
latter when he drew his map in 1500.
But the most illuminating light is thrown on the voyage of 1498 by a
careful reading of the descriptions of Sebastian Cabot’s adventure given
in the next chapter. These accounts indicate that Sebastian had grasped
the great fact that the transatlantic land was a separate continent,
altogether distinct from Asia. From whence did he derive his
information? Without reasonable doubt, from his father’s voyage of 1498.
It is practically certain, although definite proof is lacking, that John
Cabot acted in accordance with his expressed intentions, and sailed
westwards to his former landfall. Thence he turned to the south-west and
followed the land towards the tropics, exploring the coast, and seeking
eagerly for signs of the wealthy and civilized Asiatics whom he expected
to find there. The islands of Columbus were considered as merely a
half-way house on the route to Asia, and Cabot was confident that his
newly-discovered coast would lead him far to the west of their position,
which the king’s instructions had doubtless enjoined him to avoid. It
may be imagined, then, how his heart sank when day followed day and
brought no sight of oriental shipping on the sea or cities on the land;
and when no inhabitants could be encountered save wandering bands of
savages, who lived by the chase, and had nothing of value to exchange
for the goods in his ships’ holds. The coast, too, trended more and more
to the southwards, taking him in the direction of the Spanish
possessions and rendering illusory the hope of finding Cipango, for
which there was evidently no room between them and it. Gradually Cabot
must have realized that the new land was not a part of Asia, since it
corresponded with none of the known facts about that continent; and,
with the realization, the purpose of his voyage was gone. To find a way
to Asia by the west would necessitate the finding of a passage through
this strange and desolate land, and, until that was effected, all hope
of profitable trade had to be abandoned. Whether an attempt was made to
discover such a passage, or whether the expedition sailed straight back
to England, is unknown. In either case the result, as judged by the
shareholders in the venture, was complete failure.
It is easy to understand how, after this great disappointment, involving
the shattering of a lifetime’s convictions, John Cabot had no heart for
further voyages, but lived quietly at Bristol on the king’s pension
until death overtook him at the close of the fifteenth century.
Such is the theory of the 1498 voyage to which all the ascertained
evidence points. It explains the silence of contemporary chroniclers,
who did not think such a financial failure worthy of mention; it
explains the cessation of the interest of the London commercial world in
transatlantic ventures; and it explains also the motives of Sebastian
Cabot in the voyage which has now to be considered, and the meaning of
his narrations, which have long been considered to be little more than a
collection of impudent falsehoods.
-----
Footnote 43:
An exception must be made of a short extract in Hakluyt.
Footnote 44:
_Spanish Cal._ i, p. 128.
Footnote 45:
_Venetian Cal._ i, p. 262.
Footnote 46:
Ibid., p. 260.
Footnote 47:
_Spanish Cal._ i, pp. 176–7.
Footnote 48:
_Add. MSS._, 7099, f. 41.
Footnote 49:
_R. O., Privy Seals_, Dec. 13, 13 Hen. VII, No. 40.
Footnote 50:
_R. O., Warrants for Issues_, 13 Hen. VII.
Footnote 51:
_Add. MSS._, 7099, f. 45.
Footnote 52:
_Chapter Muniments_, 12243. Printed in facsimile as _The Cabot Roll_,
Bristol, 1897, edited by A. E. Hudd.
Footnote 53:
_Cotton MSS._, Vitell. A. xvi.
Footnote 54:
See Chap. I, pp. 29–30.
Footnote 55:
See Harrisse’s _John and Sebastian Cabot_ (1896) for an account of
Sebastian’s intrigues with Venice, and other discreditable affairs.
Footnote 56:
Evidently Japan. 'Zipangu is an island in the eastern ocean, situated
at the distance of about 1500 miles from the mainland or coast of
Manji. It is of considerable size; its inhabitants have fair
complexions, are well made, and are civilized in their manners....
They have gold in the greatest abundance, its sources being
inexhaustible, but as the king does not allow of its being exported,
few merchants visit the country, nor is it frequented by much shipping
from other parts. To this circumstance we are to attribute the
extraordinary richness of the sovereign’s palace, according to what we
are told by those who have access to the place. The entire roof is
covered by a plating of gold, in the same manner as we cover houses,
or more properly churches, with lead. The ceilings of the halls are of
the same precious metal; many of the apartments have small tables of
pure gold, of considerable thickness; and the windows also have golden
ornaments. So vast indeed are the riches of the palace, that it is
impossible to convey any idea of them. In this island there are pearls
also, of a pink colour, round in shape, and of great size, equal in
value to, or even exceeding in value, the white pearls.' _The Travels
of Marco Polo_, Everyman’s Library, pp. 323–4.