Such in the main are the ancient writers upon which we must chiefly

rely in considering the present question. In the interpretation of

these sources much has been done by the leading modern writers on

the condition of science in ancient times; like Bunbury, Ukert,

Forbiger, St. Martin, and Peschel on geography;[348] like Zeller on

philosophy, not to name many others;[349] and like Lewis and Martin

on astronomy;[350] but there is no occasion to go to much length in

the enumeration of this class of books. The reader is referred to the

examination of the literature of special points of the geographical

studies of the ancients to the notes following this Essay.

* * * * *

Mediæval cosmology and geography await a thorough student; they are

imbedded in the wastes of theological discussions of the Fathers, or

hidden in manuscript cosmographies in libraries of Europe. It should

be noted that confusion has arisen from the use of the word _rotundus_

to express both the sphericity of the earth and the circularity of the

known lands, and from the use of _terra_, or _orbis terrae_, to denote

the inhabited lands, as well as the globe. It has been pointed out by

Ruge (_Gesch. d. Zeitalters der Entdeckungen_, p. 97) that the later

Middle Age adopted the circular form of the _oekoumene_ in consequence

of a peculiar theory as to the relation of the land and water masses

of the earth, which were conceived as two intercepting spheres. The

_oekoumene_ might easily be spoken of as a round disk without implying

that the whole earth was plane.[351] That the struggle of the Christian

faith, at first for existence and then for the proper harvesting of the

fruits of victory, induced its earlier defenders to wage war against

the learning as well as the religion of the pagans; that Christians

were inclined to think time taken from the contemplation of the true

faith worse than wasted when given to investigations into natural

phenomena, which might better be accepted for what they professed to

be; and that they often found in Scripture a welcome support for the

evidence of the senses,—cannot be denied. It was inevitable that St.

Chrysostom, Lactantius, Orosius and Origines rejected or declined

to teach the sphericity of the earth. The curious systems of Cosmas

and Aethicus, marked by a return to the crudest conceptions of the

universe, found some favor in Europe. But the truth was not forgotten.

The astronomical poems of Aratus, Hyginus, and Manilius were still

read. Solinus and other plunderers of Pliny were popular, and kept

alive the ancient knowledge. The sphericity of the earth was not denied

by St. Augustine; it was maintained by Martianus Capella, and assumed

by Isidor of Seville. Bede[352] taught the whole system of ancient

geography; and but little later, Virgilius, bishop of Saltzburg, was

threatened with papal displeasure, not for teaching the sphericity

of the earth, but for upholding the existence of antipodes.[353]

The canons of Ptolemy were cited in the eleventh century by Hermann

Contractus in his _De utilitatibus astrolabii_, and in the twelfth by

Hugues de Saint Victor in his _Eruditio didascalica_. Strabo was not

known before Pope Nicholas V., who ordered the first translation. Not

many to-day can illustrate the truth more clearly than the author of

_L’Image du Monde_, an anonymous poem of the thirteenth century. If two

men, he says, were to start at the same time from a given point and go,

the one east, the other west,—

Si que andui egaumont alassent

Il convendroit qu’il s’encontrassent

Dessus le leu dont il se mûrent.[354]

In general, the mathematical and astronomical treatises were earlier

known to the West than the purely metaphysical works: this was the case

in the eleventh and twelfth centuries; in the thirteenth the schoolmen

were familiar with the whole body of Aristotle’s works. Thus the

influence of Aristotle on natural science was early important, either

through Arabian commentators or paraphrasers, or through translations

made from the Arabic, or directly from the Greek.[355]

Jourdain affirms that it was the influence of Aristotle and his

interpreters that kept alive in the Middle Ages the doctrine that India

and Spain were not far apart. He also maintains that the doctrine of

the sphericity of the earth was familiar throughout the Middle Age,

and, if anything, more of a favorite than the other view.

The field of the later ecclesiastical and scholastic writers, who kept

up the contentions over the form of the earth and kindred subjects,

is too large to be here minutely surveyed. Such of them as were well

known to the geographical students of the centuries next preceding

Columbus have been briefly indicated in another place;[356] and if

not completely, yet with helpful outlining, the whole subject of the

mediæval cosmology has been studied by not a few of the geographical

and cartographical students of later days.[357] So far as these studies

pertain to the theory of a Lost Atlantis and the fabulous islands of

the Atlantic Ocean, they will be particularly illustrated in the notes

which follow this Essay.

[Illustration: Wm. H. Tillinghast]

NOTES.

=A.= THE FORM OF THE EARTH.—It is not easy to demonstrate that the

earliest Greeks believed the earth to be a flat disk, although that is

the accepted and probably correct view of their belief. It is possible

to examine but a small part of the earliest literature, and what we

have is of uncertain date and dubious origin; its intent is religious

or romantic, not scientific; its form is poetic. It is difficult to

interpret it accurately, since the prevalent ideas of nature must be

deduced from imagery, qualifying words and phrases, and seldom from

direct description. The interpreter, doubtful as to the proportion in

which he finds mingled fancy and honest faith, is in constant danger

of overreaching himself by excess of ingenuity. In dealing with such

a literature one is peculiarly liable to abuse the always dangerous

argument by which want of knowledge is inferred from lack of mention.

Other difficulties beset the use of later philosophic material, much

of which is preserved only in extracts made by antagonists or by

compilers, so that we are forced to confront a lack of context and

possible misunderstanding or misquotation. The frequent use of the

word _στρογγύλος_, which has the same ambiguity as our word “round”

in common parlance, often leads to uncertainty. A more fruitful cause

of trouble is inherent in the Greek manner of thinking of the world.

It is often difficult to know whether a writer means the planet, or

whether he means the agglomeration of known lands which later writers

called _ἡ οἰκουμένη_. It is not impossible that when writers refer to

the earth as encircled by the river Oceanus, they mean, not the globe,

but the known lands, the eastern continent, as we say, what the Romans

sometimes called _orbis terrae or orbis terrarum_, a term which may

mean the “circle of the lands,” not the “orb of the earth.” At a later

time it was a well-known belief that the earth-globe and water-globe

were excentrics, so that a segment of the former projected beyond the

surface of the latter in one part, and constituted the known world.[358]

I cannot attach much importance to the line of argument with which

modern writers since Voss have tried to prove that the Homeric poems

represent the earth flat. That Poseidon, from the mountains of the

Solymi, sees Odesseus on the sea to the west of Greece (_Od._ v. 282);

that Helios could see his cattle in Thrinakia both as he went toward

the heavens and as he turned toward the earth again (_Od._ xii. 380);

that at sunset “all the ways are darkened;” that the sun and the

stars set in and rose from the ocean,—these and similar proofs seem

to me to have as little weight as attaches to the expressions “ends

of the earth,” or to the flowing of Oceanus around the earth. There

are, however, other and better reasons for assuming that the earth in

earliest thought was flat. Such is the most natural assumption from the

evidence of sight, and there is certainly nothing in the older writings

inconsistent with such an idea. We know, moreover, that in the time of

Socrates it was yet a matter of debate as to whether the earth was flat

or spherical, as it was in the time of Plutarch.[359] We are distinctly

told by Aristotle that various forms were attributed to earth by

early philosophers, and the implication is that the spherical theory,

whose truth he proceeds to demonstrate, was a new thought.[360] It is

very unlikely, except to those who sincerely accept the theory of a

primitive race of unequalled wisdom, that the sphericity of the earth,

having been known to Homer, should have been cast aside by the Ionic

philosophers and the Epicureans, and forgotten by educated people five

or six centuries later, as it must have been before the midnight voyage

of Helios in his golden cup, and before similar attempts to account

for the return of the sun could have become current. Ignorance of the

true shape of the earth is also indicated by the common view that the

sun appeared much larger at rising to the people of India than to the

Grecians, and at setting presented the same phenomenon in Spain.[361]

As we have seen, the description of Tartarus in the Theogony of Hesiod,

which Fick thinks an interpolation of much later date, likens the earth

to a lid.

The question has always been an open one. Crates of Mallos, Strabo, and

other Homer-worshippers of antiquity, could not deny to the poet any

knowledge current in their day, but their reasons for assuming that he

knew the earth to be a globe are not strong. In recent years President

Warren has maintained that Homer’s earth was a sphere with Oceanus

flowing around the equator, that the pillars of Atlas meant the axis of

the earth, and that Ogygia was at the north pole.[362] Homer, however,

thought that Oceanus flowed around the known lands, not that it merely

grazed their southern border: it is met with in the east where the sun

rises, in the west (_Od._ iv. 567), and in the north (_Od._ v. 275).

That “Homer and all the ancient poets conceived the earth to be

a plane” was distinctly asserted by Geminus in the first century

B.C.,[363] and has been in general steadfastly maintained by moderns

like Voss,[364] Völcker,[365] Buchholtz,[366] Gladstone,[367]

Martin,[368] Schaefer,[369] and Gruppe.[370] It is therefore

intrinsically probable, commonly accepted, and not contradicted by what

is known of the literature of the time itself.[371]

=B.= HOMER’S GEOGRAPHY.—There is an extensive literature on the

geographic attainments of Homer, but it is for the most part rather sad

reading. The later Greeks had a local identification for every place

mentioned in the _Odyssey_; but conservative scholars at present are

chary of such, while agreed in confining the scene of the wanderings

to the western Mediterranean. Gladstone, in _Homer and the Homeric

Age_, has argued with ingenuity for the transfer of the scene from

the West to the East, and has constructed on this basis one of the

most extraordinary maps of “the ancient world” known. K. E. von Baer

(_Wo ist der Schauplatz d. Fahrten d. Odysseus zu finden? 1875_),

agreeing with Gladstone, “identifies” the Lastrygonian harbor with

Balaklava, and discovers the very poplar grove of Persephone. It is

a favorite scheme with others to place the wanderings outside the

columns of Hercules, among the Atlantic isles,[372] and to include

a circumnavigation of Africa. The better opinion seems to me that

which leaves the wanderings in the western Mediterranean, which

was considered to extend much farther north than it actually does.

The maps which represent the voyage within the actual coast lines

of the sea, and indicate the vessel passing through the Straits to

the ocean, are misleading. There is not enough given in the poem to

resolve the problem. The courses are vague, the distances uncertain or

conventional,—often neither are given; and the matter is complicated

by the introduction of a _floating_ island, and the mysterious voyages

from the land of the Phaeacians. It is a pleasant device adopted by

Buchholtz and others to assume that where the course is not given, the

wind last mentioned must be considered to still hold, and surely no one

will grudge the commentators this amelioration of their lot.

=C.= SUPPOSED REFERENCES TO AMERICA.—It is well known that Columbus’s

hopes were in part based on passages in classical authors.[373]

Glareanus, quoting Virgil in 1527, after Columbus’s discovery had made

the question of the ancient knowledge prominent, has been considered

the earliest to open the discussion;[374] and after this we find it a

common topic in the early general writers on America, like Las Casas

(_Historia General_), Ramusio (introd. vol. iii.), and Acosta (book i.

ch. 11, etc.)

In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries it was not an uncommon

subject of academic and learned discussion.[375] It was a part of the

survey made by many of the writers who discussed the origin of the

American tribes, like Garcia,[376] Lafitau,[377] Samuel Mather,[378]

Robertson,[379] not to name others.

It was not till Humboldt compassed the subject in his _Examen Critique

de l’histoire de la géographie du nouveau continent_ (Paris, 1836),

that the field was fully scanned with a critical spirit, acceptable to

the modern mind. He gives two of the five volumes which comprise the

work to this part of his subject, and very little has been added by

later research, while his conclusions still remain, on the whole, those

of the most careful of succeeding writers. The French original is not

equipped with guides to its contents, such as a student needs; but this

is partly supplied by the index in the German translation.[380] The

impediments which the student encounters in the _Examen Critique_ are

a good deal removed in a book which is on the whole the easiest guide

to the sources of the subject,—Paul Gaffarel’s _Etude sur les rapports

de l’Amérique et de l’ancien continent avant Christophe Colomb_ (Paris,

1869).[381]

The literature of the supposed old-world communication with America

shows other phases of this question of ancient knowledge, and may be

divided, apart from the Greek embraced in the previous survey, into

those of the Egyptians, Phœnicians, Tyrians, Carthaginians, and Romans.

The Egyptian theory has been mainly worked out in the present century.

Paul Felix Cabrera’s _Teatro critico Americano_, printed with Rio’s

_Palenqué_ (Lond., 1822), formulates the proofs. An essay by A.

Lenoir, comparing the Central American monuments with those of Egypt,

is appended to Dupaix’s _Antiquités Méxicaines_ (1805). Delafield’s

_Inquiry into the Origin of the Antiquities of America_ (Cincinnati,

1839), traces it to the Cushites of Egypt, and cites Garcia y Cubas,

_Ensayo de an Estudio Comparativo entre las Pirámides Egipcias y

Méxicanas_. Brasseur de Bourbourg discussed the question, _S’il existe

des sources de l’histoire primitive du Méxique dans les monuments

égyptiens de l’histoire primitive de l’ancien monde dans les monuments

américains?_ in his ed. of Landa’s _Relations des Choses de Yucatan_

(Paris, 1864). Buckle (_Hist. of Civilization_, i. ch. 2) believes the

Mexican civilization to have been strictly analogous to that of India

and Egypt. Tylor (_Early Hist. of Mankind_, 98) compares the Egyptian

hieroglyphics with those of the Aztecs. John T. C. Heaviside, _Amer.

Antiquities, or the New World the Old, and the Old World the New_

(London, 1868), maintains the reverse theory of the Egyptians being

migrated Americans. F. de Varnhagen works out his belief in _L’origine

touranienne des américains tupis-caribes et des anciens égyptiens

montrée principalement par la philologie comparée; et notice d’une

émigration en Amérique effectuée à travers l’Atlantique plusieurs

siècles avant notre ère_ (Vienne 1876).[382]

Aristotle’s mention of an island discovered by the Phœnicians was

thought by Gomara and Oviedo to refer to America. The elder leading

writers on the origin of the Indians, like Garcia, Horn, De Laet, and

at a later day Lafitau, discuss the Phœnician theory; as does Voss

in his annotations on Pomponius Mela (1658), and Count de Gebelin

in his _Monde primitif_ (Paris, 1781). In the present century the

question has been touched by Cabrera in Rio’s _Palenqué_ (1822). R. A.

Wilson, in his _New Conquest of Mexico_, assigns (ch. v.) the ruins

of Middle America to the Phœnicians. Morlot, in the _Actes de la

Société Jurassienne d’Emulation_ (1863), printed his “La découverte de

l’Amérique par les Phènicièns.” Gaffarel sums up the evidences in a

paper in the _Compte Rendu, Cong. des Amér._ (Nancy), i. 93.[383]

The Tyrian theory has been mainly sustained by a foolish book, by a

foolish man, _An Original History of Anc. America_ (London, 1843), by

Geo. Jones, later known as the Count Johannes (cf. Bancroft’s _Native

Races_, v. 73).

The Carthaginian discovery rests mainly on the statements of Diodorus

Siculus.[384]

Baron Zach in his _Correspondenz_ undertakes to say that Roman voyages

to America were common in the days of Seneca, and a good deal of wild

speculation has been indulged in.[385]

=D.= ATLANTIS.—The story of Atlantis rests solely upon the authority

of Plato, who sketched it in the _Timaeus_, and began an elaborated

version in the _Critias_ (if that fragment be by him), which old

writers often cite as the _Atlanticus_. This is frequently forgotten

by those who try to establish the truth of the story, who often write

as if all statements in print were equally available as “authorities,”

and quote as corroborations of the tale all mentions of it made by

classical writers, regardless of the fact that all are later than

Plato, and can no more than Ignatius Donnelly corroborate him. In

fact, the ancients knew no better than we what to make of the story,

and diverse opinions prevailed then as now. Many of these opinions

are collected by Proclus in the first book of his commentary on

the _Timaeus_,[386] and all shades of opinion are represented from

those who, like Crantor, accepted the story as simply historical, to

those who regarded it as a mere fable. Still others, with Proclus

himself, accepted it as a record of actual events, while accounting

for its introduction in Plato by a variety of subtile metaphysical

interpretations. Proclus reports that Crantor, the first commentator

upon Plato (_circa_ B.C. 300), asserted that the Egyptian priests said

that the story was written on pillars which were still preserved,[387]

and he likewise quotes from the _Ethiopic History_ of Marcellus, a

writer of whom nothing else is known, a statement that according to

certain historians there were seven islands in the external sea sacred

to Proserpine; and also three others of great size, one sacred to

Pluto, one to Ammon, and another, the middle one, a thousand stadia

in size, sacred to Neptune. The inhabitants of it preserved the

remembrance, from their ancestors, of the Atlantic island which existed

there, and was truly prodigiously great, which for many periods had

dominion over all the islands in the Atlantic sea, and was itself

sacred to Neptune.[388] Testimony like this is of little value in such

a case. What comes to us at third hand is more apt to need support

than give it; yet these two passages are the strongest evidence of

knowledge of Atlantis outside of Plato that is preserved. We do indeed

find mention of it elsewhere and earlier. Thus Strabo[389] says that

Posidonius (B.C. 135-51) suggested that, as the land was known to

have changed in elevation, Atlantis might not be a fiction, but that

such an island-continent might actually have existed and disappeared.

Pliny[390] also mentions Atlantis in treating of changes in the

earth’s surface, though he qualifies his quotation with “si Platoni

credimus.”[391] A mention of the story in a similar connection is made

by Ammianus Marcellinus.[392]

In the Scholia to Plato’s _Republic_ it is said that at the great

Panathenaea there was carried in procession a _peplum_ ornamented with

representations of the contest between the giants and the gods, while

on the _peplum_ carried in the little Panathenaea could be seen the

war of the Athenians against the Atlantides. Even Humboldt accepted

this as an independent testimony in favor of the antiquity of the

story; but Martin has shown that, apart from the total inconsistency

of the report with the expressions of Plato, who places the narration

of this forgotten deed of his countrymen at the celebration of the

festival of the little Panathenaea, the scholiast has only misread

Proclus, who states that the _peplum_ depicted the repulse of the

barbarians, _i. e._ Persians, by the Greeks.[393] To these passages

it is customary to add references to the Meropian continent of

Theopompus,[394] the Saturnian of Plutarch, the islands of Aristotle,

Diodorus and Pausanias,—which is very much as if one should refer to

the _New Atlantis_ of Bacon as evidence for the existence of More’s

_Utopia_.[395] Plutarch in his life of Solon attributes Solon’s having

given up the idea of an epic upon Atlantis to his advanced age rather

than to want of leisure; but there is nothing to show that he had any

evidence beyond Plato that Solon ever thought of such a poem, and Plato

does not say that Solon began the poem, though Plutarch appears to

have so understood him.[396] Thus it seems more probable that all the

references to Atlantis by ancient writers are derived from the story in

Plato than that they are independent and corroborative statements.

With the decline of the Platonic school at Alexandria even the name

of Atlantis readily vanished from literature. It is mentioned by

Tertullian,[397] and found a place in the strange system of Cosmas

Indicopleustes,[398] but throughout the Middle Ages little or nothing

was known of it. That it was not quite forgotten appears from its

mention in the _Image du Monde_, a poem of the thirteenth century,

still in MS., where it is assigned a location in the _Mer Betée_ (=

coagulée).[399] Plato was printed in Latin in 1483, 1484, 1491, and

in Greek in 1513, and in 1534 with the commentary of Proclus on the

Timaeus.[400] The _Timaeus_ was printed separately five times in the

sixteenth century, and also in a French and an Italian translation.[401]

The discovery of America doubtless added to the interest with which

the story was perused, and the old controversy flamed up with new

ardor. It was generally assumed that the account given by Plato was not

his invention. Opinions were, however, divided as to whether he had

given a correct account. Of those who believed that he had erred as

to the locality or as to the destruction of the island, some thought

that America was the true Atlantis, while others, with whose ideas

we have no concern here, placed Atlantis in Africa, Asia, or Europe,

as prejudice led them. Another class of scholars, sensible of the

necessity of adhering to the text of the only extant account, accepted

the whole narrative, and endeavored to find in the geography of the

Atlantic, or as indicated by the resemblances between the flora, fauna,

and civilization of America and of the old world, additional reasons

for believing that such an island had once existed, and had disappeared

after serving as a bridge by which communication between the continents

was for a time carried on. The discussion was prolonged over centuries,

and is not yet concluded. The wilder theories have been eliminated

by time, and the contest may now be said to be between those who

accept Plato’s tale as true and those who regard it as an invention.

The latter view is at present in favor with the most conservative

and careful scholars, but the other will always find advocates.

That Atlantis was America was maintained by Gomara, Guillaume de

Postel, Horn, and others incidentally, and by Birchrod in a special

treatise,[402] which had some influence even upon the geographer

Cellarius. In 1669 the Sansons published a map showing America divided

among the descendants of Neptune as Atlantis was divided, and even as

late as 1762 Vaugondy reproduced it.[403] In his edition of Plato,

Stallbaum expressed his belief that the Egyptians might have had some

knowledge of America.[404] Cluverius thought the story was due to a

knowledge of America.[405]

Very lately Hyde Clark has found in the Atlantis fable evidence

of a knowledge of America: he does not believe in the connecting

island Atlantis, but he holds that Plato misinterpreted some account

of America which had reached him.[406] Except for completeness it

is scarcely worth mentioning that Blackett, whose work can really

be characterized by no other word than absurd, sees America in

Atlantis.[407]

Here should be mentioned a work by Berlioux, which puts Euhemerus to

the blush in the manner in which history with much detail is extorted

from mythology.[408] He holds that Atlantis was the northwestern coast

of Africa; that under Ouranos and Atlas, astronomers and kings, it was

the seat of a great empire which had conquered portions of America and

kept a lively commercial intercourse with that country.

Ortelius in several places speaks of the belief that America was the

old Atlantis, and also attributes that belief to Mercator.[409]

That Atlantis might really have existed[410] and disappeared, leaving

the Atlantic islands as remnants, was too evident to escape notice.

Ortelius suggested that the island of Gades might be a fragment of

Atlantis,[411] and the doctrine was early a favorite. Kircher, in his

very curious work on the subterranean world, devotes considerable space

to Atlantis, rejecting its connection with America, while he maintains

its former existence, and holds that the Azores, Canaries, and other

Atlantic islands were formerly parts thereof, and that they showed

traces of volcanic fires in his day.[412]

Las Casas in his history of the Indies devoted an entire chapter to

Atlantis, quoting the arguments of Proclus, in his commentary on

Plato, in favor of the story, though he is himself more doubtful. He

also cites confirmative passages from Philo and St. Anselm, etc. He

considers the question of the Atlantic isles, and cites authorities for

great and sudden changes in the earth’s surface.[413]

The same view was taken by Becman,[414] and Fortia D’Urban. Turnefort

included America in the list of remnants; and De la Borde followed

Sanson in extending Atlantis to the farthest Pacific islands.[415] Bory

de St. Vincent,[416] again, limited Atlantis to the Atlantic, and gave

on a map his ideas of its contour.

D’Avezac maintains this theory in his _Iles africaines de l’Océan

Atlantique_,[417] p. 5-8. Carli devoted a large part of the second

volume of his _Lettere Americane_ to Atlantis, controverting Baily,

who placed Atlantis in Spitzbergen. Carli goes at considerable length

into the topographical and geological arguments in favor of its

existence.[418] The early naturalists, when the doctrine of great and

sudden changes in the earth’s surface was in favor, were inclined

to look with acquiescence on this belief. Even Lyell confessed a

temptation to accept the theory of an Atlantis island in the northern

Atlantic, though he could not see in the Atlantic islands trace of a

mid-Atlantic bridge.[419] About the middle of this century scholars

in several departments of learning, accepting the evidences of

resemblances between the product of the old and new world, were induced

to turn gladly to such a connection as would have been offered by

Atlantis; and the results obtained at about the same time by studies in

the pre-Columbian traditions and civilization of Mexico were brought

forward as supporting the same theory. That the Antilles were remnants

of Atlantis; that the Toltecs were descendants from the panic-stricken

fugitives of the great catastrophe, whose terrors were recorded in

their traditions, as well as in those of the Egyptians, was ardently

urged by Brasseur de Bourbourg.[420]

In 1859 Retzius announced that he found a close resemblance between the

skulls of the Guanches of the Canaries and the Guaranas of Brazil, and

recalled the Atlantis story to explain it.[421] In 1846 Forbes declared

his belief in the former existence of a bridge of islands in the North

Atlantic, and in 1856 Heer attempted to show the necessity of a similar

connection from the testimony of palæontological botany.

In 1860, Unger deliberately advocated the Atlantis hypothesis to

explain the likeness between the fossil flora of Europe and the living

flora of America, enumerating over fifty similar species; and Kuntze

found in the case of the tropical seedless banana, occurring at once in

America before 1492 and in Africa, a strong evidence of the truth of

the theory.[422]

A condensed review of the scientific side of the question is given

by A. Boué in his article _Ueber die Rolle der Veränderungen des

unorganischen Festen im grossen Massstabe in der Natur_.[423]

The deep-sea soundings taken in the Atlantic under the auspices of

the governments of the United States, England, and Germany resulted

in discoveries which gave a new impetus to the Atlantis theory.

It was shown that, starting from the Arctic plateau, a ridge runs

down the middle of the Atlantic, broadening toward the Azores, and

contracting again as it trends toward the northeast coast of South

America. The depth over the ridge is less than 1,000 fathoms, while

the valleys on either side average 3,000; it is known after the U. S.

vessel which took the soundings as the Dolphin ridge. A similar though

more uniformly narrow ridge was found by the “Challenger” expedition

(1873-76), extending from somewhat north of Ascension Island directly

south between South America and Africa. It is known as the Challenger

ridge. There is, beside, evidence for the existence of a ridge across

the tropical Atlantic, connecting the Dolphin and Challenger ridges.

Madeira, the Canaries, and the Cape Verde Islands are cut off from

these ridges by a deep valley, but are connected by shoals with the

continent. Upon the publication of the Challenger chart (_Special

Report_, vii. 1876), those who favored the theory of communication

between the continents were not slow to appropriate its disclosures in

their interests (_Nature_, Dec. 21, 1876, xv. 158). In March, 1877, W.

Stephen Mitchell delivered a lecture at South Kensington, wherein he

placed in juxtaposition the theory of Unger and the revelations of the

deep-sea soundings, when he announced, however, that he did not mean

to assert that these ridges had ever formed a connecting link above

water between the continents.[424] Others were less cautious,[425] but

in general this interpretation did not commend itself as strongly to

conservative men of science as it might have done a few years before,

because such men were gradually coming to doubt the fact of changes of

great moment in the earth’s surface, even those of great duration.

In 1869, M. Paul Gaffarel published his first treatise on

Atlantis,[426] advocating the truth of the story, and in 1880 he made

it the subject of deeper research, utilizing the facts which ocean

exploration had placed at command.[427] This is the best work which has

appeared upon this side of the question, and can only be set against

the earlier work by Martin.[428] The same theory has been supported

by D. P. de Novo y Colson, who went so far as to predict the ultimate

recovery of some Atlantean manuscripts from submarine grottoes of some

of the Atlantic islands,—a hope which surpasses Mr. Donnelly.[429]

Winchell found the theory too useful in his scheme of ethnology to be

rejected,[430] but it was reserved for Ignatius Donnelly to undertake

the arrangement of the deductions of modern science and the data of

old traditions into a set argument for the truth of Plato’s story. His

book,[431] in many ways a rather clever statement of the argument, so

evidently presented only the evidence in favor of his view, and that

with so little critical estimate of authorities and weight of evidence,

that it attracted only uncomplimentary notice from the scientific

press.[432] It was, however, the first long presentation of the case

in English, and as such made an impression on many laymen. In 1882

was also published the second volume of the _Challenger Narrative_,

containing a report by M. Renard on the geologic character of the

mid-Atlantic island known as St. Paul’s rocks. The other Atlantic

islands are confessedly of volcanic origin, and this, which laymen

interpreted in favor of the Atlantis theory, militated with men of

science against the view that they were remnants of a sunken continent.

St. Paul’s, however, was, as noted by Darwin, of doubtful character,

and Renard came to the conclusion that it was composed of crystalline

schists, and had therefore probably been once overlaid by masses since

removed.[433] This conclusion, which tended in favor of Atlantis, was

controverted by A. Geikie[434] and by M. E. Wadsworth,[435] (the latter

having personally inspected specimens,) on the ground that the rocks

were volcanic in origin, and that, had they been schists, the inference

of denudation would not follow. Dr. Guest declared that ethnologists

have fully as good cause as the botanists to regard Atlantis as a

fact.[436] A. J. Weise in treating of the Discoveries of America

adopted the Atlantis fable unhesitatingly, and supposes that America

was known to the Egyptians through that channel.[437]

That the whole story was invented by Plato as a literary ornament

or allegorical argument, or that he thus utilized a story which he

had really received from Egypt, but which was none the less a myth,

was maintained even among the early Platonists, and was the view of

Longinus. Even after the discovery of America many writers recognized

the fabulous touch in it, as Acosta,[438] who thought, “being well

considered, they are rediculous things, resembling rather to _Ovid’s_

tales then a Historie of Philosophie worthy of accompt,” and “cannot be

held for true but among children and old folkes”—an opinion adopted by

the judicious Cellarius.[439]

Among more recent writers, D’Anville, Bartoli,[440] Gosselin,[441]

Ukert,[442] approved this view.

Humboldt threw the weight of his great influence in favor of the

mythical interpretation, though he found the germ of the story in

the older geographic myth of the destruction of Lyctonia in the

Mediterranean (Orph. _Argonaut._, 1274, etc.);[443] while Martin, in

his work on the _Timaeus_, with great learning and good sense, reduced

the story to its elements, concluding that such an island had never

existed, the tale was not invented by Plato, but had really descended

to him from Solon, who had heard it in Egypt.

Prof. Jowett regards the entire narrative as “due to the imagination of

Plato, who could easily invent ‘Egyptians or anything else,’ and who

has used the name of Solon ... and the tradition of the Egyptian priest

to give verisimilitude to his story;”[444] and Bunbury is of the same

opinion, regarding the story as “a mere fiction,” and “no more intended

to be taken seriously ... than the tale of Er the Pamphylian.”[445] Mr.

Archer-Hind, the editor of the only separate edition of the _Timaeus_

which has appeared in England, thinks it impossible to determine

“whether Plato has invented the story from beginning to end, or whether

it really more or less represents some Egyptian legend brought home by

Solon,” which seems to be a fitting conclusion to the whole matter.

The literature of the subject is widely scattered, but a good deal has

been done bibliographically in some works which have been reserved

for special mention here. The earliest is the _Dissertation sur

l’Atlantide_, by Th. Henri Martin,[446] wherein, beside a carefully

reasoned examination of the story itself and similar geographic myths,

the opposing views of previous writers are set forth in the second

section, _Histoire des Systèmes sur l’Atlantide_, pp. 258-280. Gaffarel

has in like manner given a résumé of the literature, which comes down

later than that of Martin, in the two excellent treatises which he has

devoted to the subject; he is convinced of the existence of such an

island, but his work is marked by such care, orderliness, and fulness

of citations that it is of the greatest value.[447] The references

in these treatises are made with intelligence, and are, in general,

accurate and useful. That this is not the case with the work of Mr.

Donnelly deprives the volume of much of the value which it might have

had.[448]

=E.= FABULOUS ISLANDS OF THE ATLANTIC IN THE MIDDLE AGES.—Fabulous

islands belong quite as much to the domain of folk-lore as to that of

geography. The legends about them form a part of the great mass of

superstitions connected with the sea. What has been written about these

island myths is for the most part scattered in innumerable collections

of folk-tales and in out-of-the-way sources, and it does not lie within

the scope of the present sketch to track in these directions all that

has been said. It will not be out of place, however, to refer to a

few recent works where much information and many references can be

found. One of the fullest collections, though not over-well sorted,

is by Lieut. F. S. Bassett,[449] consisting of brief notes made in

the course of wide reading, well provided with references, which are,

however, often so abbreviated as to inflict much trouble on those who

would consult them,—an all too common fault. Of interest is a chapter

on _Les îles_, in a similar work by M. Paul Sebillot.[450] An island

home has often been assigned to the soul after death, and many legends,

some mediæval, some of great antiquity, deal with such islands, or with

voyages to them. Some account of these will be found in Bassett, and

particularly in an article by E. Beauvois in the _Revue de l’histoire

de Religion_,[451] where further references are to be found. Wm.

F. Warren has also collected many references to the literature of

this subject in the course of his endeavor to show that Paradise was

at the North Pole.[452] The long articles on _Eden_ and _Paradise_

in McClintock and Strong’s _Biblical Encyclopedia_ should also be

consulted.

In what way the fabulous islands of the Atlantic originated is not

known, nor has the subject been exhaustively investigated. The islands

of classical times, in part actual discoveries, in part born of

confused reports of actual discoveries, and in part probably purely

mythical, were very generally forgotten as ancient civilization

declined.[453] The other islands which succeeded them were in part

reminiscences of the islands known to the ancients or invented by

them, and in part products of a popular mythology, as old perhaps as

that of the Greeks, but until now unknown to letters. The writers who

have dealt with these islands have treated them generally from the

purely geographic point of view. The islands are known principally

from maps, beginning with the fourteenth century, and are not often

met with in descriptive works. Formaleoni, in his attempt to show

that the Venetians had discovered the West Indies prior to Columbus,

made studies of the older maps which naturally led him to devote

considerable attention to these islands.[454]

They are also considered by Zurla.[455] The first general account of

them was given by Humboldt in the _Examen Critique_,[456] and to what

he did little if anything has since been added. D’Avezac[457] treated

the subject, giving a brief sketch of the islands known to the Arab

geographers,—a curious matter which deserves more attention.

Still more recently Paul Gaffarel has treated the matter briefly, but

carefully.[458] A study of old maps by H. Wuttke, in the _Jahresbericht

des Vereins für Erdkunde zu Dresden_,[459] gives considerable attention

to the islands; and Theobald Fischer, in his commentary on the

collection of maps reproduced by Ongania, has briefly touched on the

subject,[460] as has Cornelio Desimoni in various papers in the _Atti

della Società Ligure di Storia patria_, xiv., and other years, in the

_Atti dell’ Acad. dei Nuova Lincei_, in the _Gionale ligustico_, etc.

R. H. Major’s _Henry the Navigator_ should also be consulted.[461]

* * * * *

Strictly speaking, the term mythical islands ought to include, if not

Frisland and Drogeo, at least the land of Bus, the island of Bimini

with its fountain of life, an echo of one of the oldest of folk-tales,

the island of Saxenburg, and the other non-existent islands, shoals,

and rocks, with which the imagination of sailors and cartographers have

connected the Atlantic even into the present century. In fact, the

name is by common consent restricted to certain islands which occur

constantly on old charts: the Island of St. Brandan, Antillia or Isle

of the Seven Cities, Satanaxio, Danmar, Brazil, Mayda, and Isla Verte.

It is interesting to note that the Arab geographers had their fabulous

islands, too, though so little is known of them that it is at present

impossible to say what relation they bear to those mentioned. They say

that Ptolemy assigned 25,000 islands to the Atlantic, but they name

and describe seventeen only, among which we may mention the Eternal

Islands (Canaries? Azores?),[462] El-Ghanam (Madeira?), Island of the

Two Sorcerers (Lancerote?), etc.[463]

There has been some difference of opinion as to which of the Atlantic

islands answer to the ancient conception of the Fortunate Islands. It

is probable that the idea is at the bottom of several of these, but it

may be doubted whether the island of St. Brandan is not entirely due to

the christianizing of this ancient fable.

We proceed now to examine the accounts of some of these islands.

ST. BRANDAN.—St. Brandan, or Brendan, who died May 16, 577, was Abbot

of Cluainfert, in Ireland, according to the legend, where he was

visited by a friend, Barontus, who told him that far in the ocean lay

an island which was the land promised to the saints. St. Brandan set

sail for this island in company with 75 monks, and spent seven years

upon the ocean, in two voyages (according to the Irish text in the

MS. _book of Lismore_, which is probably the most archaic form of the

legend), discovering this island and many others equally marvellous,

including one which turned out to be the back of a huge fish, upon

which they celebrated Easter. This story cannot be traced beyond the

eleventh century, its oldest form being a Latin prose version in a

MS. of that century. It is known also in French, English, and German

translations, both prose and verse, and was evidently a great favorite

in the Middle Ages. Intimately connected with the St. Brandan legend

is that of St. Malo, or Maclovius, Bishop of Aleth, in Armorica, a

disciple of St. Brandan, who accompanied his superior, and whose

eulogists, jealous of the fame of the Irish saint, provided for the

younger a voyage on his own account, with marvels transcending those

found by Brandan. His church-day is November 17th. The story of St.

Brandan is given by Humboldt and D’Avezac,[464] and by Gaffarel.[465]

Further accounts will be found in the _Acta Sanctorum_ of the

Bollandists,[466] and in the introductions and notes to the numerous

editions of the voyages, among which reference only need be made to the

original Latin edited by M. Jubinal,[467] and to the English version

edited by Thomas Wright for the Percy Society.[468] A Latin text of the

fourteenth century is now to be found in the _Acta Sanctorum Hiberniae

ex codice Salmanticensi nunc premium integre edita opera C. de Smedt

et J. de Backer_ (Edinb. etc., 1888), 4to, pp. 111-154. As is well

known, Philoponus gives an account of the voyages of St. Brandan with a

curious map, in which he places the island N. W. of Spain and N. E. of

the Canaries, or _Insulae Fortunatae_.[469] The island of St. Brandan

was at first apparently imagined in the north, but it afterward took a

more southerly location. Honoré d’Autun identifies it with a certain

island called Perdita, once discovered and then lost in the Atlantic;

we have here, perhaps, some reminiscence of the name “Aprositos,” which

Ptolemy bestows on one of the _Fortunatae Insulae_.[470] In some of

the earlier maps there is an inlet on the west coast of Ireland called

_Lacus Fortunatus_, which is packed with islands which are called

_Insulae Fortunatae_ or _Beatae_, and sometimes given as 300 or 368

in number.[471] But the Pizigani map of 1367 puts the _Isole dicte

Fortunate S. Brandany_ in the place of Madeira; and Behaim’s globe, in

1492, sets it down in the latitude of Cape de Verde,—a legend against

it assigning the discovery to St. Brandan in 565.

It is this island which was long supposed to be seen as a mountainous

land southeast of the Canaries. After the discovery of the Azores

expeditions were fitted out to search for it, and were continued until

1721, which are described by Viera, and have been since retold by all

writers on the subject.[472] The island was again reported as seen in

1759.

ANTILLIA, OR ISLE OF SEVEN CITIES.—The largest of these islands, the

one most persistent in its form and location, is Antillia, which is

depicted as a large rectangular island, extending from north to south,

lying in the mid-Atlantic about lat. 35° N. This island first appears

on the map of 1424, preserved at Weimar, and is found on the principal

maps of the rest of the century, notably in the Bianco of 1436.[473] On

some maps of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries appears a smaller

island under the name of Sette Citade, or Sete Ciudades, which is

properly another name for Antillia, as Toscanelli says in his famous

letter, wherein he recommended Antillia as likely to be useful as a

way-station on the India voyage. We owe to Behaim the preservation on

his globe of 1492 of the legend of this island. It was discovered and

settled, according to him, by refugees from Spain in 714, after the

defeat of King Roderick by the Moors. The settlers were accompanied by

an archbishop and six bishops, each of whom built him a town. There

is a story that the island was rediscovered by a Portuguese sailor in

1447.[474]

In apparent connection with _Antillia_ are the smaller islands _Danmar_

or _Tanmar_, _Reillo_ or _Royllo_, and _Satanaxio_. The latter alone

is of special interest. Formaleoni found near Antillia, on the map of

Bianco of 1436, an island with a name which he read as “Y.^d laman

Satanaxio,”—a name which much perplexed him, until he found, in an

old Italian romance, a legend that in a certain part of India a great

hand arose every day from the sea and carried off the inhabitants into

the ocean. Adapting this tale to the west, he translated the name

“Island of the hand of Satan,”[475] in which interpretation Humboldt

acquiesced. D’Avezac, however, was inclined to think that there were

two islands, one called Delamar, a name which elsewhere appears as

Danmar or Tanmar, and Satanaxio, or, as it appears on a map by Beccario

at Parma, _Satanagio_,[476] and suggests that the word is a corrupt

form for S. Atanaxio or S. Atanagio, i. e. St. Athanasius, with which

Gaffarel is inclined to agree.[477]

Formaleoni saw in _Antillia_ a foreknowledge of the Antilles, and

Hassel believed that North and South America were respectively

represented by Satanaxio and Antillia, with a strait between, just as

the American continent was indeed represented after the discovery. It

is certainly curious that Beccario designates the group of Antillia,

Satanagio, and Danmar, as _Isle de novo reperte_, the name afterwards

applied to the discoveries of Columbus; but it is not now believed that

the fifteenth-century islands were aught but geographical fancies. To

transfer their names to the real discoveries was of course easy and

natural.[478]

BRAZIL.—Among the islands which prefigured the Azores on

fourteenth-century maps appears _I. de Brazi_ on the Medicean portulano

of 1351, and it is apparently Terceira or San Miguel.[479] On the

Pizigani map of 1367 appear three islands with this name, _Insula de

Bracir_ or _Bracie_, two not far from the Azores, and one off the south

or southeast end of Ireland. On the Catalan map of 1375 is an _Insula

de Brazil_ in the southern part of the so-called Azores group, and an

_Insula de Brazil_ (?) applied to a group of small islands enclosed

in a heavy black ring west of Ireland. The same reduplication occurs

in the Solerio of 1385, in a map of 1426 preserved at Regensburg,

in Bianco’s map of 1436, and in that of 1448: here _de Braxil_ is

the easternmost of the Azores group (i. e. _y de Colombi, de Zorzi_,

etc.), while the large round island—more like a large ink-blot than

anything else—west of Ireland is _y de Brazil d. binar_.[480] In a map

in St. Mark’s Library, Venice, dated about 1450, Brazil appears in

four places. Fra Mauro puts it west of Ireland,[481] and it so appears

in Ptolemy of 1519, and Ramusio in 1556; but Mercator and Ortelius

inscribe it northwest of the Azores.

Humboldt has shown[482] that brazil-wood, being imported into Europe

from the East Indies long before the discovery of America, gave its

name to the country in the west where it was found in abundance, and

he infers that the designation of the Atlantic island was derived from

the same source. The duplication of the name, however, seems to point

to a confusion of different traditions, and in the Brazil off Ireland

we doubtless have an attempt to establish the mythical island of _Hy

Brazil_, or _O’Brasile_, which plays a part as a vanishing island in

Irish legends, although it cannot be traced to its origin. In the epic

literature of Ireland relating to events of the sixth and subsequent

centuries, and which was probably written down in the twelfth, there

are various stories of ocean voyages, some involuntary, some voluntary,

and several, like the voyage of the sons of Ua Corra about 540, of St.

Brandan about 560, and of Mailduin in the eighth century, taking place

in the Atlantic, and resulting in the discovery of numerous fabulous

islands.[483] The name of Brazil does not appear in these early

records, but it seems to belong to the same class of legends.[484]

It is first mentioned, as far as I know, by William Betoner, called

William of Worcester, who calls the island _Brasyle_ and _Brasylle_,

and says that July 15, 1480, his brother-in-law, John Jay, began a

voyage from Bristol in search of the island, returning Sept. 18 without

having found it.[485] This evidently belongs to the series of voyages

made by Bristol men in search of this island, which is mentioned

by Pedro d’Ayala, the Spanish ambassador to England, in his famous

letter of July 25, 1498, where he says that such voyages in search of

_Brazylle_ and the _seven cities_ had been made for seven years past,

“according to the fancies of the Genoese,” meaning Sebastian Cabot.[486]

It would seem that the search for Brazil was of older date than Cabot’s

arrival. He probably gave an additional impetus to the custom, adding

to the stories of the fairy isles the legends of the _Sette Citade_ or

_Antillia_. Hardiman,[487] quoting from a MS. history of Ireland, in

the library of the Royal Irish Academy, written about 1636, mentions

an “iland, which lyeth far att sea, on the west of Connaught, and some

times is perceived by the inhabitants of the _Oules_ and _Iris_ ... and

from Saint Helen Head. Like wise several seamen have discovered it, ...

one of whom, named Captain Rich, who lives about Dublin, of late years

had a view of the land, and was so neere that he discovered a harbour

... but could never make to land” because of “a mist which fell upon

him.... Allsoe in many old mappes ... you still find it by the name of

_O’Brasile_ under the longitude of 03°, 00´, and the latitude of 50°

20´.”[488] In 1675 a pretended account of a visit to this island was

published in London, which is reprinted by Hardiman.[489]

An account of the island as seen from Arran given in O’Flaherty’s

_Sketch of the Island of Arran_,[490] is quoted by H. Halliday

Sterling, _Irish Minstrelsy_, p. 307 (London, 1887). Mr. Marshall, in a

note in _Notes and Queries_, Sept. 22, 1883 (6th s., viii. 224), quotes

Guest, _Origines Celticae_ (London, 1883), i. 126, and R. O’Flaherty,

_Ogygia, sive rerum Hibernicarum chronologiae_ (London, 1685; also

in English translation, Dublin, 1793), as speaking of O’Brazile. The

latter work I have not seen. Mr. Marshall also quotes a familiar

allusion to it by Jeremy Taylor (_Dissuasive from Popery_, 1667). This

note was replied to in the same periodical, Dec. 15, 1883, by Mr.

Kerslake, “N.” and W. Fraser. Fraser’s interest had been attracted by

the entry of the island—much smaller than usual—on a map of the French

Geographer Royal, Le Sieur Tassin, 1634-1652, and he read a paper

before the Geological Society of Ireland, Jan. 20, 1870, suggesting

that Brazil might be the present _Porcupine Bank_, once above water.

On the same map _Rockall_ is laid down as two islands, where but a

solitary rock is now known.[491] Brasil appears on the maps of the last

two centuries, with _Mayda_ and _Isle Verte_, and even on the great

Atlas by Jefferys, 1776, is inserted, although called “imaginary island

of O’Brasil.” It grows constantly smaller, but within the second half

of this century has appeared on the royal Admiralty charts as _Brazil

Rock_.[492]

It would be too tedious to enumerate the numerous other imaginary

islands of the Atlantic to which clouds, fogs, and white caps have

from time to time given rise. They are marked on all charts of the

last century in profusion; mention, however, may be made of the “land

of _Bus_” or _Busse_, which Frobisher’s expedition coasted along in

1576, and which has been hunted for with the lead even as late as 1821,

though in vain.

=F.= TOSCANELLI’S ATLANTIC OCEAN.—It has been shown elsewhere (Vol.

II. pp. 30, 31, 38, 90, 101, 103) that Columbus in the main accepted

the view of the width of the Atlantic, on the farther side of which

Asia was supposed to be, which Toscanelli had calculated; and it has

not been quite certain what actual measurement should be given to this

width, but recent discoveries tend to make easier a judgment in the

matter.

When Humboldt wrote the _Examen Critique_, Toscanelli’s letter to

Columbus, of unknown date,[493] enclosing a copy of the one he sent

to Martinez in 1474, was known only in the Italian form in Ulloa’s

translation of the _Historie del S. D. Fernando Colombo_ (Venice,

1571), and in the Spanish translation of Ulloa’s version by Barcia

in the _Historiades primitivos de las Indias occidentales_ (Madrid,

1749), i. 5 bis, which was reprinted by Navarrete, _Coleccion de los

viages y descubrimientos_, etc., ii. p. 1. In the letter to Martinez,

in this form, it is said that there are in the map which accompanied it

twenty-six _spaces_ between Lisbon and _Quisai_, each space containing

250 miles according to the Ulloa version, but according to the

re-translation of Barcia 150 miles. This, with several other changes

made by Barcia, were followed by Navarrete and accepted as correct

by Humboldt, who severely censures Ximenes for adopting the Italian

rendering in his _Gnomone fiorent_. But the Latin copy of the letter in

Columbus’s handwriting, discovered by Harrisse and made public (with

fac-simile) in his _D. Fernando Colon_ (Seville, 1871),[494] sustained

the correctness of Ulloa’s version, giving 250 miliaria to the space.

This authoritative rendering also showed that while the translator

had in general followed the text, he had twice inserted a translation

of miles into degrees, and once certainly, incorrectly, making in

one place 100 miles = 35 leagues, and in another, 2,500 miles = 225

leagues. Probably this discrepancy led to the omissions made by Barcia;

he was wrong, however, in changing the number 250, supposing the 150

not to be a typographical error, and in omitting the phrase, “which

space (from Lisbon to Quinsai) is about the third part of the sphere.”

The Latin text showed, too, that this whole passage about distances was

not in the Martinez letter at all, but formed the end of the letter

to Columbus, since in the Latin it follows the date of the Martinez

letter, into which it has been interpolated by a later hand. Finally

the publication of Las Casas’s _Historia de las Indias_ (Madrid, 1875)

gave us another Spanish version, which differs from Barcia’s in closely

agreeing with the Ulloa version, and which gives the length of a space

at 250 miles.

There were then 26 × 250 = 6500 miles between Lisbon and Quinsai, and

this was about one third of the circumference of the earth in this

latitude, but it is not clear whether Roman or Italian miles were meant.

If the MS. in the Biblioteca Nazionale at Florence [_Cod.

Magliabechiano Classe_ xi. _num._ 121], described by G. Uzielli in the

_Bollettino della Società Geografica Italiana_, x. 1 (1873), 13-28

(“Ricerche intorno a Paolo dal Pozzo Toscanelli, ii. Della grandezza

della terra secondo Paolo Toscanelli”), actually represents the work

of Toscanelli, it is of great value in settling this point. The MS.

is inscribed “Discorso di M^o Paolo Puteo Toscanelli sopra la cometa

del 1456.” In it were found two papers: 1. A plain projection in

rectangular form apparently for use in sketching a map. It is divided

into spaces, each subdivided into five degrees, and numbers 36 spaces

in length. It is believed by Sig. Uzielli that this is the form used in

the map sent to Martinez. If this be so, the 26 spaces between Lisbon

and Quinsai = 130°. 2. A list of the latitude and longitude of various

localities, at the end of which is inscribed this table:

Gradus continet .68 miliaria minus 3ª unius.

Miliarum tria millia bracchia.

Bracchium duos palmas.

Palmus. 12. uncias. 7. filos.

The Florentine mile of 3,000 braccia da terra contains, according to

Sig. Uzielli, 1653.6^m. (as against 1481^m. to the Roman mile). Hence

Toscanelli estimated a degree of the meridian at 111,927^m, or only

552^m. more than the mean adopted by Bessel and Bayer. Since, according

to the letter, one space = 250 miles, and by the map one space = 5°,

we have 50 miles to a degree, which would point to an estimate for a

latitude of about 42°, allowing 67 2-3 miles to an equatorial degree.

Lisbon was entered in the table of Alphonso at 41° N. (true lat. 38°

41’ N.) By this reckoning Quinsai would fall 124° west of Lisbon or

10° west of San Francisco. It does not appear that the Florence MS.

can be traced directly to Toscanelli, but the probability is certainly

strong that we have here some of the astronomer’s working papers, and

that Ximenes did not deserve the rebuke administered by Humboldt for

allowing 250 miles to a space, and assuming that a space contained

five degrees. Certainly Humboldt’s use of 150 miles is unjustifiable,

and his calculation of 52° as the angular distance between Lisbon and

Quinsai, according to Toscanelli, is very much too small, whatever

standard we take for the mile. If we follow Uzielli, the result

obtained by Ruge (_Geschichte des Zeitalters der Entdeckungen_, p.

230), 104°, is also too small.[495]

[Illustration: GAFFAREL’S MAP.

From a map by Gaffarel, “L’Océan Atlantique et les restes de

l’Atlantide,” in the _Revue de Géographie_, vi. p. 400, accompanying a

paper by Gaffarel in the numbers for April-July, 1880, and showing such

rocks and islets as have from time to time been reported as seen, or

thought to have been seen, and which Gaffarel views as vestiges of the

lost continent.]

=G.= EARLY MAPS OF THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.—_By the Editor_—The

cartographical history of the Atlantic Ocean is, even down to our own

day, an odd mixture of uncertain fact and positive fable. The island of

Bresil or Brazil was only left off the British Admiralty charts within

twenty years (see Vol. II. p. 36), and editions of the most popular

atlases, like Colton’s, within twenty-five years have shown Jacquet

Island, the Three Chimneys, Maida, and others lying in the mid-sea.

It may possibly be a fair question if some of the reports of islands

and rocks made within recent times may not have had a foundation in

temporary uprisings from the bed of the sea.[496] We must in this

country depend for the study of this subject on the great collections

of facsimiles of early maps made by Santarem, Kunstmann, Jomard, and on

the Sammlung which is now in progress at Venice, under the editing of

Theobald Fischer, and published by Ongania.[497]

We may place the beginning of the Atlantic cartography[498] in the map

of Marino Sanuto in 1306, who was first of the nautical map-makers of

that century to lay down the Canaries;[499] but Sanuto was by no means

sure of their existence, if we may judge from his omission of them in

his later maps.[500]

[Illustration: FIFTEENTH CENTURY.

A conventional map of the older period, which is given in Santarem’s

_Atlas_ as a “Mappemonde qui se trouve au revers d’une Médaille du

Commencement du XVe Siècle.”]

[Illustration

NOTE.—The above maps are reduced a little from the engraving in

_Allgemeine Geographische Ephemeriden_ (Weimar, 1807), vol. xxiv. p.

248. The smaller is an extract from that of Fr. Pizigani (1367), and

the larger that of Andreas Bianco (1436). There is another fac-simile

of the latter in F. M. Erizzo’s _Le Scoperte Artiche_ (Venice, 1855).]

[Illustration: CATALAN MAP, 1375.

After a sketch in St. Martin’s _Atlas_, pl. vii.]

There are two maps of Hygden (A.D. 1350), but the abundance of

islands which they present can hardly be said to show more than a

theory.[501] There is more likelihood of well considered work in the

Portolano Laurenziano-Gaddiano (A.D. 1351), preserved in the Biblioteca

Mediceo-Laurenziana at Florence, of which Ongania, of Venice, published

a fac-simile in 1881.[502] There are two maps of Francisco Pizigani,

which seem to give the Canaries, Madeira, and the Azores better than

any earlier one. One of these maps (1367) is in the national library

at Parma, and the other (1373) is in the Ambrosian library at Milan

(_Studi biog. e bibliog._, vol. ii. pp. viii, 57, 58). The 1367 map

is given by Jomard and Santarem. The most famous of all these early

maps is the Catalan Mappemonde of 1375, preserved in the great library

at Paris. It gives the Canaries and other islands further north, but

does not reach to the Azores.[503] These last islands are included,

however, in another Catalan planisphere of not far from the same era,

which is preserved in the national library at Florence, and has been

reproduced by Ongania (1881).[504] The student will need to compare

other maps of the fourteenth century, which can be found mentioned in

the _Studi_, etc., with references in the _Kohl Maps_, sect. 1. The

phototypic series of Ongania is the most important contribution to

this study, though the yellow tints of the original too often render

the details obscurely.[505] So for the next century there are the same

guides; but a number of conspicuous charts may well be mentioned. Chief

among them are those of Andrea Bianco contained in the Atlas (1436),

in the Biblioteca Marciana at Venice, published by Ongania (1871), who

also published (1881) the Carta Nautica of Bianco, in the Biblioteca

Ambrosiana in Milan.[506]

[Illustration: ANDREAS BENINCASA, 1476.

After a sketch in St. Martin’s _Atlas_, pl. vii.]

The 1436 map has been reproduced in colors in Pietro Amat de San

Filippo’s _Planisferio disegnato del 1436_ (_Bollettino Soc.

Geografia_, 1879, p. 560); and a sketch of the Atlantic part is given

in the _Allgem. Geog. Ephemeriden_, xxiv. no. 248.[507]

During the next twenty years or more, the varying knowledge of the

Atlantic is shown in a number of maps, a few of which may be named:—The

Catalan map “de Gabriell de Valsequa, faite à Mallorcha en 1439,”

which shows the Azores, and which Vespucius is said to have owned

(Santarem, pl. 54). The planisphere “in lingua latina dell’ anno 1447,”

in the national library at Florence (Ongania, 1881). The world maps of

Giovanni Leardo (Johannes Leardus), 1448 and 1452, the former of which

is given in Santarem (pl. 25,—also _Hist. Cartog._ iii. 398), and the

latter reproduced by Ongania, 1880. One is in the Ambrosian library,

and the other in the Museo Civico at Vicenza (cf. _Studi_, etc., ii.

72, 73). In the Biblioteca Vittorio Emanuele at Rome there is the

sea-chart of Bartolomaeus de Pareto of 1455, on which we find laid down

the Fortunate Islands, St. Brandan’s, Antillia, and Royllo.[508] The

World of Fra Mauro[509] has been referred to elsewhere in the present

volume.

[Illustration: LAON GLOBE.

From a “projection Synoptique Cordiforme” in the _Bull. de la Soc. de

Géog._, 4e série, xx. (1860), in connection with a paper by D’Avezac

(p. 398). Cf. Oscar Peschel in _Ausland_ May 12, 1861; also in his

_Abhandlungen_, i. 226.]

We come now to the conditions of the Atlantic cartography immediately

preceding the voyage of Columbus. The most prominent specimens of this

period are the various marine charts of Grogioso and Andreas Benincasa

from 1461 to 1490. Some of these are given by Santarem, Lelewel, and

St. Martin; but the best enumeration of them is given in the _Studi

biog. e bibliog. della Soc. Geog. Ital._ ii. 66, 77-84, 92, 99, 100.

Of Toscanelli’s map of 1474, which influenced Columbus, we have no

sketch, though some attempts have been made to reconstruct it from

descriptions. (Cf. Vol. II. p. 103; Harrisse’s _Christophe Colomb._,

i. 127, 129.) Brief mention may also be made of the Laon globe of 1486

(dated 1493), of which D’Avezac gives a projection in the _Bulletin

de la Soc. de Géog._ xx. 417; of the Majorcan (Catalan) Carta nautica

of about 1487 (cf. _Studi_, etc., ii. no. 397; _Bull. Soc. Géog._, i.

295); of the chart in the Egerton MSS., Brit. Mus., made by Christofalo

Soligo about the same time, and which has no dearth of islands (cf.

_Studi_, etc., i. 89); of those of Nicola Fiorin, Canepa, and Giacomo

Bertran (_Studi_, etc., ii. 82, 86, and no. 398). The globe of Behaim

(1492) gives the very latest of these ante-Columbian views (see Vol.

II. 105).

[Illustration: _A Fac-simile from_ BORDONE, 1547.]

[Illustration: END OF FIFTEENTH CENTURY. (Santarem’s _Atlas_.)]

It took, after this, a long time for the Atlantic to be cleared, even

partially, of these intrusive islands, and to bring the proper ones

into accurate relations. How the old ideas survived may be traced in

the maps of Ruysch, 1508 (Vol. II. 115); Coppo, 1528, with its riot of

islands (II. 127); Mercator, 1541 (II. 177); Bordone, 1547; Zaltière,

1566 (II. 451); Porcacchi, 1572 (II. 453); Ortelius, 1575, 1587,—not to

continue the series further.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

NOTE.—The left of the annexed cuts is from Bordone’s _Isolario_, 1547;

the right one is an extract from the “World” of Ortelius, 1587.

Narrative and Critical History of America, Vol. 1 (of 8) Aboriginal America · 第 2 / 21 章