Björnbo and Petersen have asserted that Iceland, on the later map and in the Vienna text, has been given a position more in agreement with the sailing directions than on the Nancy map. I cannot see the necessity for this supposition, as it has almost exactly the same position in relation to the southern point of Greenland and to Norway in both works; the chief difference is merely that the longitude of all three countries is made 3° farther east in the later work (and the latitude of the southern points of Iceland and Greenland is put somewhat farther south), and that the east coast of Greenland has a more oblique north-eastward direction than the corresponding north-east coast on the Medici map, with the direction of which the Nancy map agrees fairly well. In this way it is brought nearer to Iceland; but that this should be due to a knowledge of the sailing directions seems very uncertain, and is not disclosed, so far as I can see, elsewhere in the later work. The only things I have found which might possibly point to northern authorities having been consulted since the production of the Nancy work, are the accurate latitude of Trondhjem, already referred to, and the island of “Byörnö” between Iceland and Greenland. The latter might be the Gunnbjörnskerries (or Gunnbjarnar-eyar) mentioned, amongst other places, in Ivar Bárdsson’s description of Greenland; but the abbreviation of the name is curious. Perhaps the island may be due to some oral communication, or an erroneous recollection of something the author may have heard of in Denmark in his youth.

On the whole we shall be compelled after all to detract considerably from Claudius Clavus’s reputation as a Northern traveller and cartographer. His journey did not extend farther north than the Danish islands, and perhaps Skåne. On the other hand, he was in Italy, where he drew his maps or had them drawn, and where he also found his most important authorities. His chief merit as a cartographer is that he is the first we know of to have adopted Ptolemy’s methods, and that he gave the name of Greenland to the westernmost tongue of land in Norway on the Medicean mappamundi, and altered this a good deal with the help of other compass-charts and Vesconte’s mappamundi, to make it agree better with the ideas of the North which he may have acquired to some extent in his youth through legendary tales, and later through Saxo and other writers.

North-western portion of Nicolaus Germanus’s first revision of Ptolemy’s
map of the world (after 1466). (J. Fischer, 1902, Pl. I.)

Claudius Clavus’s later map of the North exercised for a long period a decisive influence on the representation of Scandinavia and to some extent of Greenland. This was chiefly due to the two well-known cartographers, Nicolaus Germanus and Henricus Martellus.[267] The former must have become acquainted with Clavus’s map soon after 1460, and included copies of it in the splendid MSS. of Ptolemy’s Geography which proceeded from his workshop at Florence. In these copies, of which several are known (cf. p. 251), he has redrawn Clavus’s map in the trapezoidal projection invented by himself, whereby his Greenland has been given a more oblique position than the Greenland of the original map and the corresponding peninsula on the Medici map. He also introduced this Greenland into his map of the world [cf. J. Fischer, 1902, Pl. I., III.; Björnbo, 1910, p. 136]; but, in order to make it agree better with the learned mediæval view of the earth’s disc surrounded by ocean, he surrounded it by sea on the north, so that it came to form a long and narrow tongue of land projecting from northern Russia, instead of the northern mass of land extending to the North Pole according to Clavus. But this long peninsula does not seem to have entirely satisfied this priest’s erudite ideas of the continent, and on later maps (which were printed after his death in the Ulm editions of Ptolemy of 1482 and 1486) he shortened it so much that it became a rounded peninsula to the north of Norway, with the name “Engronelant,”[268] and at the same time he moved Iceland out into the ocean to the north-west. This apparently quite arbitrary alteration may perhaps be due to a desire to bring the map as far as possible into agreement with the learned dogma of the continent [cf. Björnbo, 1910, pp. 141, ff.]; but older conceptions of Greenland may also have contributed towards it [cf. J. Fischer, 1902, pp. 87, ff.]. We have already seen that Adam of Bremen regarded Greenland as an island “farther out in the ocean opposite the mountains of Suedia” (see vol i. p. 194), and in his additions to the copy of Ptolemy, Cardinal Filastre (before 1427) states that Greenland lay to the north of Norway; we find the same view in the letter of 1448 from Pope Nicholas V. (see above, p. 113).[269] It is also somewhat remarkable that on the Genoese mappamundi of 1447 (or 1457) there occurs a peninsula north of Scandinavia just at the place where Clavus’s Greenland should begin (see p. 287).[270] On Fra Mauro’s mappamundi (1457-59) there are several peninsulas to the north of Scandinavia, some of which proceed from Russia (see p. 285).

Map of the North by Nicolaus Germanus (before 1482), after Claudius
Clavus, but with Greenland transferred to the north of Norway

The cartographer Henricus Martellus, who succeeded Nicolaus Germanus, again adopted Clavus’s form of Greenland, wholly or in part, on his maps dating from about 1490.

In this way there arose on the maps of the close of the Middle Ages two types of the North: one with Greenland in a comparatively correct position to the west of Iceland, though far too near Europe and connected therewith, and another type with “Engronelant” as a peninsula to the north of Norway. The latter remained for a long time the usual one in all editions of Ptolemy, in other cartographical works and on many globes. After the rediscovery of Greenland we even get sometimes two delineations of this country on the same map, one to the north of Norway and the other in its right place in the west.

Greenland seems to have been given a wholly different form on a Catalan compass-chart from Majorca, of the close of the fifteenth century, where in the Atlantic to the west of Ireland and south-west of Iceland [“Fixlanda”] there is an island called “Illa verde” [the green isle]. It seems, as assumed by Storm [1893, p. 81], that the name must be a translation of Greenland, which is called in the Historia Norwegiæ “Viridis terra.” The representation of Iceland [“Fixlanda”] on this map is incomparably better than on all earlier maps, and gives proof of new information having come from thence. As the place-names point to an English source, it is possible that the cartographer may have received information from Bristol, which city was engaged in the Iceland trade and fisheries, and his island, “Illa verde,” may be due to an echo of reports about the forgotten Greenland in the west. It is worth remarking that the island is connected with the Irish mythical “Illa de brazil,” which lay to the west of Ireland and which appears in this map twice over in its typical round form (cf. above, p. 228).[271] If we remember that this happy isle is in reality the Insulæ Fortunatæ, and that in the Historia Norwegiæ (see above, p. 1) it is said that Greenland [“Viridis terra”] nearly touches the African Islands (i.e., Insulæ Fortunatæ), then we possibly have an explanation of this juxtaposition. But as it is said in the same passage that Greenland forms the western end of Europe, we cannot suppose that the cartographer was acquainted with this work. The probability is, no doubt, that Greenland [Illa verde] together with Brazil or the Insulæ Fortunatæ had become transformed into mythical islands out in the ocean.

Part of a Catalan compass-chart of the fifteenth century,
preserved at Milan. (Nordenskiöld, 1892, Pl. 5)

On another compass-chart, bound up in a Paris MS. of Ptolemy of the latter part of the fifteenth century, a similar island (or peninsula ?), with the same round island to the south of it, is seen to project southwards from the northern border of the chart out into the Atlantic, and a little farther east than the Insulæ Fortunatæ. On the island is written: “Insula uiridis, de qua fit mentio in geographia” [the green island, of which mention is made in the geography].[272] We do not know what geographical work may here be meant; Björnbo suggests that it might be the lost work of Nicholas of Lynn, who again may have used the Historia Norwegiæ. It is striking that the island, besides being connected with a round island like Brazil, but without a name, is placed on this map near the Insulæ Fortunatæ.

This “green island,” which thus is probably a remnant of old Greenland, occurs again in various forms and in various places on many sixteenth-century maps.

It is not surprising that information about the northern lands made its appearance also on the maps of this time, as we know that the North was visited more frequently, and sometimes by eminent southerners, from the year 1248, when the well-known Matthew Paris, who, amongst other things, drew a map of England remarkable for his time, visited Norway. Rather is it strange that the direct knowledge thus obtained did not leave more definite traces. Early in the fifteenth century (some year between 1397 and 1448) a Byzantine, Cananos Lascaris, travelled in the North and wrote about it (in Greek). He mentions amongst other things that in Bergen, the capital of Norway (“Bergen Vagen”), money was not used in trading [this must have been due to scarcity of coin]; but in Stockolmo, the capital of Sweden, they had money of alloyed silver. Bergen had a month of daylight from June 24 to July 25. He also says that he himself went to the land of the Ichthyophagi (fish-eaters), “Islanta,” from “Inglenia,” and stayed there for twenty-four days. The people were strong and powerfully built, they lived only on fish, and they had a summer day of six months [cf. Lampros, 1881].

It would take us too far here to attempt a mention of all the fifteenth-century maps which have a different representation of the North; but perhaps some of the mappemundi in wheel-form, which were still current at this time, ought to be referred to. We saw that on Vesconte’s map of the world accompanying Marino Sanudo’s work the coast-lines of the compass-charts in the Mediterranean, etc., had already been introduced. On the Modena map (p. 231) this has also been carried out as regards the North. In the fifteenth century we have various wheel-maps, of which some seem to be more antiquated. Lo Bianco’s round mappamundi, in his atlas of 1436, is connected with the compass-charts of that time. Johannes Leardus’s round mappamundi, in many editions of 1448 and earlier,[273] likewise shows a strong affinity to the compass-charts, although there is little detail in the delineation of the North. The same is the case with the anonymous round mappamundi in a codex in the Library of St. Mark at Venice [cf. Kretschmer, 1892, atlas, Pl. III., No. 13], but this map has also points of similarity to Vesconte’s mappamundi in Sanudo’s work, and, amongst other things, it has the same mountain-chain along the north coast of the continent, and the same form of the Baltic.

Europe on the mappamundi in the Geneva MS. of Sallust
of about 1450. (The south should be at the top)

The round mappamundi in a MS. of Mela of 1417 at Rheims[274] is, on the whole, of a very antiquated type, but its image of the North seems more modern, and it has the same mountain-chain along the north coast of the continent as Vesconte’s map. The “Sallust” map at Geneva, of about 1450, is also antiquated, but its Baltic resembles the compass-charts, and the two mountain ridges, one along the north coast of the continent, the other parallel with it in the interior, strongly recall Vesconte’s map of the world. On the other hand, the connection by water between the Baltic and Mæotis (the Sea of Azov) is evidently derived from an earlier age (cf. p. 199). Out in the ocean to the north-west and west of Norway lie four islands. Björnbo supposes [1910, p. 75] that the two more northerly of these may correspond to Adam of Bremen’s Greenland and Wineland, but this must be very uncertain.[275]

North-western portion of Andreas Walsperger’s mappamundi (of 1448).
Most of the names are omitted. (The south should be at the top)

A curious delineation of the North is found on the round mappamundi which was drawn at Constance in 1448 by the Benedictine monk Andreas Walsperger of Salzburg [cf. Kretschmer, 1891a]. The map is in most respects imperfect and antiquated, but shows also more recent, particularly German, influence.

Another peculiar type of the round mappamundi is the so-called Borgia map of the fifteenth century (after 1410). Its representation of Europe, with the Mediterranean on the southern side of the earth’s disc, is very imperfect and far removed from reality. The same is the case with its delineation of the North, but curiously enough its Scandinavia, which is different from that of the compass-charts, and in which Skåne forms a peninsula on the south, to the east of Denmark, has a greater resemblance to reality than that of other maps of this time. This map, too, has a chain of mountains along the north coast of the continent, as in the Vesconte maps [see Nordenskiöld, 1897, Pl. XXXIX.].

North-western portion of Fra Mauro’s mappamundi
(of 1457-59), preserved at Venice. The legends and most
of the names are omitted. (The south should be at the top)

The best known fifteenth-century map of the world is that of Fra Mauro (1457-59), which is also drawn in wheel-form and is preserved at Venice. The coast-lines are taken to a great extent from the compass-charts, but a great deal of new matter has been added. As regards Norway, this consists of information from Querini’s voyage in 1432, as well as from other sources which are unknown to us; this is indicated by, amongst other things, an inscription on the sea to the north of Russia [“Permia”], which relates that a short time before two Catalan ships had sailed thither [cf. Vangensten, 1910]. On this map the Scandinavian Peninsula has been given a more reasonable extension to the north; but the west coast is very imaginatively supplied with peninsulas and islands, while the ocean outside is full of fabulous islands and contains many legends.

A picture of the North of a wholly different type is given on the elliptical Genoese mappamundi [of 1447 or 1457], which is still more fantastic than any of those hitherto mentioned. The Scandinavian Peninsula has a very long extension to the west, and ends in a promontory projecting northwards. To the north of this Scandinavia there is another fantastic peninsula where Lelewel thinks he can read the name “Grinland,” which is probably due to a misunderstanding, since, as pointed out by Björnbo [1910, p. 80], the name cannot be seen on the much-damaged original, or on Ongania’s photographic reproduction [Fischer-Ongania, Pl. X.]. Many imaginary islands are scattered about in the sea round these peninsulas.

Northern Europe on the Genoese mappamundi of 1447 or 1457

Towards the close of the fifteenth century the discovery was made of representing the surface of the earth, with land and sea, on globes. It was evidently the efforts of Toscanelli that led to the general adoption of this mode of representation, which had been used by the Greeks at an early time (cf. vol. i. p. 78); in 1474 he announced that his idea of the western route to India could best be shown on a sphere. Columbus seems to have taken a globe with him on his voyage of 1492, according to his own words in the ship’s log. The oldest known terrestrial globe that is preserved was made in 1492 by the German Martin Behaim (born at Nuremberg in 1459).[276] He spent much time in Portugal, and also in the Azores, after making a distinguished marriage with a native of those islands, a sister-in-law of Gaspar Corte-Real’s sister. But it was during a visit to his native town (1490-93) that he constructed his globe. The sources of Behaim’s representation of the North were principally Nicolaus Germanus’s mappamundi in the Ulm editions of Ptolemy, of 1482 and 1486, where Greenland is placed to the north of Norway, and Marco Polo’s travels, which speak of the northern regions of Asia. Besides these a name like “tlant Venmarck” (the land of Finmark), for instance, points to a use of the same older authority as in the anonymous letter to Pope Nicholas V., of about 1450, where in the existing French translation there is mention of “lieux champestres de Venmarche” [the plains of Finmark].[277] Thus we are here again led to the lost work of Nicholas of Lynn, “Inventio fortunata” (1360), as the possible source. That it really was this work that was used seems also to result from the fact that the countries about the North Pole on Behaim’s globe bear a remarkable resemblance to Ruysch’s map of 1508, where this note is given at the North Pole:

Northernmost Europe and the north polar regions on Behaim’s globe, 1492

What is new in Behaim’s picture of the North is chiefly this circle of land and islands around the North Pole, which he evidently took from Nicholas of Lynn, and which is not represented on any older map known to us. It consists of a continuous mass of land proceeding from his Greenland-Lapland to the north of Scandinavia, and extending eastward nearly to the opposite side of the Pole, where the Arctic Ocean (“das gefroren mer septentrional”) to the north of the continent becomes an enclosed sea. On the other side of the Pole are two large islands and a number of smaller ones. On one of the large islands is a picture of an archer in a long dress attacking a polar bear (which may be connected with myths about Amazons ?), and on the other side is written: “Hie fecht man weisen valken” [here they catch white falcons]. It might be supposed that this was derived from statements about Scandinavia or Iceland (cf. e.g., the legends of the compass-charts); but, as assumed by Ravenstein [1908, p. 92] and Björnbo [1910, p. 156], it is more likely to come from Marco Polo’s travels, where the Arctic coast of Siberia is spoken of. The many correct names, in a German form, in Martin Behaim’s Scandinavian North point to the possibility of his also having received oral information, though they may equally well be derived from older German maps.

A portion of the Laon globe of 1493. (After d’Avezac.)

Almost contemporary with Behaim’s globe is the so-called Laon globe of 1493, which was accidentally discovered in a curiosity shop at Laon some years ago. It gives a wholly different representation of the North, more in agreement with the usual maps of the world of the Nicolaus Germanus type, with sea at the pole round the north of the continent, which terminates approximately at the Arctic Circle. The Scandinavian Peninsula (called “Norvegia”) has a form somewhat resembling this type; but to the north of it “Gronlandia” appears as an island, with a land called Livonia projecting northward on the east, and two islands, Yslandia and Tile, on the west. Nothing is known of the origin of the Laon globe, or of the sources of its representation of the North.

Such were the geographical ideas of the North at the close of the Middle Ages, when the period of the great discoveries was at hand; they were vague and obscure, and the mists had settled once more over large regions which had been formerly known; but out in the mists lay mythical islands and countries in the north and west.

CHAPTER XIV

The people of the Middle Ages lived, as we have seen, to a great extent on remnants of the geographical knowledge and conceptions of the Greeks. It was the age of superstition and speculation; with the exception of the Norsemen and the Arabs, and in some degree also the Irish monks, there was during the earlier part of this period no enterprise that broke through the bounds of the known, except in the mythical world of fancy. It was not until the Crusades that the horizon began to be widened. The eastern trade of the Italian republics and the development of capable Italian seamen were of great significance. At an early date they made discoveries along the west coast of Africa. Of even greater importance was it that the Portuguese learned seamanship from them, and no doubt from the Arabs as well, and displayed great enterprise on the ocean along the shores of Africa, finding groups of islands in the west, and finally the Azores in 1427; but these must have been discovered earlier, since similar islands occur on Italian maps of the fourteenth century (cf. the Catalan Atlas of 1375).

When Ptolemy’s work, and through it the geography of the Greeks, became known in Western Europe at the beginning of the fifteenth century, it created a greater stir in the learned world than even the discovery of America did later; the circle of geographical ideas was greatly changed, and the world was regarded with new eyes as a sphere. The doctrine of the possibility of circumnavigating the earth was especially framed and scientifically established by the celebrated astronomer Toscanelli of Florence. But this was not a new doctrine; for the Greeks, Eratosthenes and Posidonius, for example (cf. vol. i. pp. 77, 79), had already announced it clearly enough, and even in the Middle Ages it was not forgotten. We saw that Mandeville, the writer of fabulous narratives, fully understood the possibility of sailing round the globe, and related ancient tales about such a voyage (cf. p. 271). But at the close of the fifteenth century the idea was seriously taken up by two men of action, both Genoese. One of them was Columbus, the other Cabot. Whether the latter had already conceived the idea before the first voyage of Columbus we do not know for certain, but it is not improbable; the thought was latent in the age, and many must have come near it. Another force impelling men to the western voyage, and perhaps as powerful a one as these scientific speculations, was the belief in the mythical world of enticing islands that lay out in the ocean to the west of Europe and Africa; the Isles of the Blest of the Greeks and the Atlantis of Plato, conceptions, originally derived from the East, which were still alive, though in other forms. There lay Antillia, the Isle of the Seven Cities, mythical islands of the Arabs, and the Irish legendary world, Brandan’s isles and many others; some of them had had a part in creating the Norse idea of Wineland and the White Men’s Land; now they were given a fresh lease of life, and power over the imagination of Western Europe. Possibly in connection with echoes of tales of the Norsemen’s discoveries—coming from Iceland to Bristol, and thence to the continent—these mythical islands helped to form a widespread belief in countries in the far west across the ocean. The fact that the Portuguese, as has been said, really found islands, the Azores, out in the Atlantic in 1427, also contributed to establish this belief. From these islands many expeditions set out in the course of the fifteenth century to search for new lands farther west.[278]

From the beginning of the fifteenth century Bristol was in frequent communication with Iceland, both for the fishery and for trade. As already pointed out, this was certainly due in no small degree to the number of Norwegians who had settled in the town. Sailors and merchants returning from voyages to Iceland doubtless brought thence many tales of marvels and of unknown islands and countries out in the ocean; legends of the Icelanders’ voyages to Greenland and Wineland may have served to entertain the winter evenings in Bristol.[279] It was therefore surely not an accident that attempts to find land in the west should originate precisely in this enterprising sea-port.

On the maps of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries there lay out in the ocean to the west of Ireland the Isle of Brazil (cf. p. 228). It was the Irish fortunate isle Hy Breasail, of which it is sung:

“On the ocean that hollows the rocks where ye dwell,
A shadowy land has appeared, as they tell;
Men thought it a region of sunshine and rest,
And they called it O’Brazil—the isle of the blest.

From year unto year, on the ocean’s blue rim,
The beautiful spectre showed lovely and dim;
The golden clouds curtained the deep where it lay,
And it looked like an Eden, away, far away.”
[Gerald Griffin.]

We have seen that on certain maps this round fabled isle was brought into connection with an “Insula verde,” probably Greenland, and this conception of the latter probably came from Iceland by way of England. We do not know what myths were associated with Brazil at that time; but the belief in it was so much alive that ships were sent out from Bristol to search for the island. A contemporary account of such an attempt made in 1480 has come down to us:[280]

Parts of the MS. being illegible, it does not appear whether John Jay, junior, was one of the leaders of the expedition or (as Harrisse thinks) one of the owners of the ships, but in any case we must suppose that the Thomas Lyde mentioned above was the actual leader or navigator. The “nine months” (“9 menses”) must either be a clerical error for two months or for nine weeks, either of which would fit the dates given, while nine months is meaningless. This must at any rate have been a serious attempt to find lands in the west, twelve years before Columbus’s discovery of the West Indies; and this was not the last attempt made from Bristol to find this happy land, for in 1497 Ayala, the Spanish Minister in London, writes:

“This Genoese” is Giovanni Caboto, or John Cabot, as he was called in England. We find only a few casual statements about this man, who was to give England the right of discovery to a new continent, and who, together with his fellow townsman, Columbus, forms the great turning-point in the history of discovery; for the most part an impenetrable obscurity rests upon his life and activity.[282] As he is often called, e.g., in letters from the contemporary Spanish Ambassadors in London, “this Genoese,” or “a Genoese like Columbus,” we must suppose that he was born in Genoa; but from existing State documents of the republic of Venice it appears that Joanni Caboto obtained his freedom in Venice on March 28, 1476, after having lived there fifteen years, which was the legal period necessary to enable a foreigner to become a citizen of the republic.[283] From the statements of contemporaries we must conclude that John Cabot was a capable seaman and navigator, with a good knowledge of charts and cartography; he also constructed a globe to illustrate his voyages. This is no more than was to be expected of a Genoese, trained in the Venetian school, which at that time was the foremost in seamanship. It may, therefore, be regarded as probable that John Cabot was familiar with the leading ideas of the geographical world of his time. Thus, while still living at Venice, he may have heard of the idea of reaching Eastern Asia by sailing to the west, which was put forward, notably by Toscanelli, as early as 1474, and in this way it is possible that, independently of Columbus, he may have thought of accomplishing this voyage to the fabulous riches of the East by a shorter route than that which the Portuguese sought to the south of Africa. In support of this it may be mentioned that in 1497 he himself told the Minister of Milan in London, Raimondo di Soncino, that

It is not improbable that Cabot may have thought that as, on account of the spherical form of the earth, the circumference of the lines of latitude decreases towards the north, the shortest way over the western ocean to the east coast of Asia must lie along the northern latitudes (cf. Posidonius, vol. i. p. 79). But we cannot lose sight of the fact that Cabot did not advance this until long after the first voyage of Columbus, and it is, therefore, uncertain whether the idea occurred to him before or after that time. When this journey to Mecca took place we do not know.

Pedro de Ayala, the Spanish Minister in London, says in a letter to Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, in 1498, that Cabot is “another Genoese like Columbus, who has been in Seville and Lisbon, endeavouring to obtain help for this discovery” [i.e., of land in the west]. The question is whether this “who” refers to Columbus or Cabot. The latter appears more likely, as it seems superfluous for the Minister to inform Ferdinand and Isabella that Columbus had been in Seville. But here again we do not learn when Cabot may have made this journey to Spain and Portugal, whether before or after Columbus’s voyage in 1492. In any case it may point to his having been occupied for a long time with plans of this sort.

Nor do we know when John Cabot came to England; but perhaps it was about 1490 that he settled in Bristol. If he really came there with ideas of making for Asia across the western ocean, he certainly found a favourable soil for such plans in the port which had already sent out ships in 1480 to look for the island of Brazil. But it is also very possible that these plans occurred to him after he had heard of this expedition, and had become familiar at first hand with the ideas of western lands which dominated the minds of the sailors of Western Europe (Englishmen and Portuguese) of that time. With the many fresh arguments he brought with him from Italy and the Mediterranean countries, it cannot have been difficult for him to induce the merchants of Bristol to make fresh attempts to find these countries in the west or north-west; and, to judge from Ayala’s letter of 1497 about the expeditions sent out annually for the previous seven years, he seems to have been persistent.

We do not know whether Cabot himself took part in the attempts made after 1490. None of them seems to have met with any success before 1497, for otherwise it would have been mentioned. But it was while the people of Bristol were occupied with such enterprises that Cabot’s great fellow-countryman, Columbus, made his remarkable voyage across the ocean farther to the south, in 1492, and found a new world, which he took to be India. With that came the awakening with which the time was pregnant. The news of the achievement, which fired all the adventurers of Europe, must soon have reached Bristol, and put new life and a wider purpose into the old plans.[285] That Cabot now became the soul of these plans is clear enough from all the facts, and we see from existing public documents that at the beginning of 1496 he was making special efforts to get an important expedition sent out, and was applying to the King of England for protection and letters patent to assure to himself and his three sons, Lewis, Sebastian and Sancto, the profit of the discoveries he expected to make on this expedition, which was to consist of five ships.