[154] Sometimes also called Nordbotn (cf. vol. i, pp. 262, 303), perhaps mostly in fairy-tales. This form of the name is still extant in a fairy-tale from Fyresdal and Eidsborg about “Riketor Kræmar” [H. Ross in “Dölen,” 1869, vii. No. 23].

[155] Pistorius, Polonicæ historiæ corpus, 1582, i. 150. I have not had an opportunity of consulting this work. We saw above (p. 163, note) that Olaus Magnus also quotes Mikhow.

[156] Cf. Noël, 1815, p. 215.

[157] The idea may have arisen through a misunderstanding of stories that the walruses often lie in great herds, close together, on the tops of skerries and small islands, and are there speared in great numbers by the hunters.

[158] He calls my attention to two papers by Professor Sophus Bugge [in “Romania,” iii. 1874, p. 157, and iv. 1875, p. 363], in which the etymology of the French word “morse” is discussed. Bugge first seeks to explain the word (precisely as above) as a metathesis for “rosme,” from the Danish “rosmer” == Old Norwegian “rosmáll,” “rosmhvalr.” In the second paper he withdraws this explanation, and says that V. Thomsen has pointed out to him the identity of “morse” with the Russian “morsh,” Polish “mors,” Czeckish “mrž,” Finnish “mursu,” Lappish “morš.” The word would “according to V. Thomsen be rather of Slavic (cf. ‘more,’ sea ?) than of Finnish origin.” After what has been advanced above, this last conclusion may be somewhat improbable. Professor Nielsen also refers to Matzenauer, Cizi slova, p. 257, which I have not had an opportunity of consulting.

[159] Professor Olaf Broch has described to me the peculiar river-boat that is used far and wide in North Russia, and that is evidently a very old type of boat. Broch saw it on the Súkhona, a tributary of the Dvina. The bottom of the boat is a dug-out tree-trunk of considerable size, which can only be found farther up the country. By heating the wood the sides are given the desired shape, and to the dug-out foundation is fastened a board on each side; Broch did not remember whether it was sewed or nailed on. The boat is thus a transitional form between the dug-out canoe and the clinker-built boat. This type of boat may also have reached the shore of the Polar Sea; but there cannot have been timber for building it there.

[160] Cf. A. Helland, Nordlands Amt, 1908, ii. p. 888.

[161] Cf. K. Leem, 1767, p. 216.

[162] The Florentine MS. of it dates from the ninth century.

[163] For this reason they were also called OT-maps, which corresponded to the initial letters of “orbis terrarum.”

[164] The work is preserved in the British Museum in a MS. of the fourteenth century, which unfortunately has not been published. The geographical descriptions in the Eulogium Historiarum of about 1360 (vol. ii. Rerum Britann. Medii Ævi Script., London, 1860, cf. the introduction by F. S. Hayden) may be taken from this work. It is evidently a MS. of the same “Geographia” that W. Wackernagel found in the library at Berne, and of which he published extracts relating to the North [1844]. It is probably the same “Geographia Universalis,” again, that is published in Bartholomæus Anglicus: De proprietatibus rerum, and in Rudimenta Novitiorum, Lübeck, circa 1475.

[165] The name of “Dacia” for Denmark, which frequently occurs on maps of the Middle Ages, arose through a confusion of the name of the Roman province on the Danube with “Dania.”

[166] “Nero,” which appears before this word on the map (see vol. i. p. 183), is crossed out, and was evidently an error.

[167] Cf. Rafn, Antiquités Russes, ii. pp. 390, ff., Pl. IV.; K. Miller, iii., 1895, p. 125.

[168] Cf. M. de Goeje in the “Livre des Merveilles de l’Inde,” ed. by v. d. Lith and Devic, Leiden, 1883-86, p. 295.

[169] Bulgar was the capital of the country of the Mohammedan Bulgarians. These were a Finnish people. From Bulgar or Bolgar comes the name Volga.

[170] For the origin of the name, see p. 55, note.

[171] Cf. Ibn Khordâdhbeh, 1889, pp. xx., 67, 88, 115; 1865, pp. 214, 235, 264.

[172] “Rûs” was the name of the Scandinavians (mostly Swedes) in Russia who founded the Russian empire (“Gardarike” or “Sviþjoð hit mikla”).

[173] Among the four wonders of the world Ibn Khordâḏbah mentions “a bronze horseman in Spain [cf. the Pillars of Hercules], who with outstretched arm seems to say: Behind me there is no longer any beaten track, he who ventures farther is swallowed up by ants.” So De Goeje translates it. It might seem to be connected with the swarms of ants that came down to the shore and wanted to eat the men and their boat on the first larger island out in the ocean that Maelduin arrived at in the Irish legend (cf. vol. i. p. 336); but Professor Seippel thinks it possible that the original reading was “is swallowed up in sand” (and not by ants).

[174] This comes very near to Hippocrates’ words about the Amazons, that the mothers burn away the right breast of their girl children, “thereby the breast ceases to grow and all the strength and fullness goes over to the right shoulder and arm” (cf. also vol. i. p. 87).

[175] Cf. V. Thomsen, 1882, p. 34.

[176] As to the trade in furs, etc., see above, pp. 144, f.

[177] Seippel, 1896; cf. Maçoudi, 1861, p. 275; 1896, pp. 92, f.; 1861, p. 213.

[178] Maçoudi, 1861, pp. 364, f.

[179] Seippel, 1896, pp. 42, 43.

[180] In the Russian chronicles the word is “Varyag” (plur. “Varyazi”), and the Baltic is called “Varyaž’skoye More” (the Varægian Sea). It is the same word as Varæger, Varanger, or Væringer (in Greek Varangoi) for the originally Scandinavian life-guards in Constantinople. The Greek princess Anna Comnena (circa 1100), celebrated for her learning, speaks of the “Varangians from Thule” as the “axe-bearing barbarians.” In a Greek work of the eleventh century, by an unknown author, it is said of Harold Hardråde that “he was the son of the king of ‘Varangia’ (Βαραγγία).” The word is evidently from a Scandinavian root; but its etymology can hardly be regarded as certain. It was probably used originally by the Russians in Gardarike of their kindred Scandinavians, especially the Swedes on the Baltic [cf. Vilhelm Thomsen, 1882, pp. 93, ff.].

[181] The Persian version and as-Shîrâzî add “tall, warlike.”

[182] The Christian Jew Assaf Hebræus’s cosmography, of the eleventh century, was probably written in Arabic, but is only known in a Latin and a Hebrew translation [cf. Ad. Neubauer, in “Orient und Occident,” ed. Th. Benfey, ii., Göttingen, 1864, pp. 657, ff.]. He mentions beyond “Scochia” [Scotland] the land of “Norbe” [Norway] with an archbishopric and ten bishoprics. In these northern lands, and particularly in Ireland, there are no snakes. Many other countries and islands are beyond Britain and the land of “Norve” [Norway], but the island of “Tille” [Thule] is the most distant, far away in the northern seas, and has the longest day, etc. There is the stiffened, viscous sea. Next the Hebrides (“Budis”) are mentioned, where the inhabitants have no corn, but live on fish and milk (cf. vol. i. p. 160), and the Orcades, where there dwell naked people (“gens nuda,” instead of “vacant homines,” see vol. i. p. 161).

[183] Cf. R. Dozy, 1881, pp. 267, ff.

[184] This island may have been Noirmoutier, in the country of the Normans of the Loire (according to A. Bugge).

[185] It is the name “Maǵûs,” from the Greek Μάγος (Magian, fire-worshipper, cf. p. 55), that led the author into this error. Maǵûs was used collectively of heathens in general, but especially of the Norse Vikings [cf. Dozy, 1881, ii. p. 271].

[186] Her name may be read “Bud” (Bodhild ?), or—according to Seippel’s showing—with a trifling correction, “Aud.”

[187] Probably this was made from Edrisi’s design and corresponded to the map of the world in his work. Khalîl aṣ-Ṣafadî (born circa 1296) also relates that Roger and Edrisi sent out trustworthy men with draughtsmen to the east, west, south and north, to draw from nature and describe everything remarkable; and their information was then included in Edrisi’s work. If this is true (which is probably doubtful), these would be real geographical expeditions that were sent out.

[188] Cf. Jaubert’s translation [Edrisi, 1836], where, however, the geographical names must be used with caution. See also Dozy and De Goeje [Edrisi, 1866].

[189] The Arabs have the same word for island and peninsula.

[190] Professor Seippel considers this the probable interpretation of the name, and not “the island of the Danes,” as in Jaubert.

[191] Edrisi reckoned a degree at the equator as 100 Arabic miles, according to which his mile would be fully a kilometre. According to other Arab geographers the degree at the equator has been reckoned as 66⅔ Arabic miles, in which case the mile would be about 1.7 km., or nearly a statute mile.

[192] This name is doubtless a confusion of Finmark and Finland.

[193] Of the names of these towns given on the map there can, according to Seippel’s interpretation, be read with certainty “Oslô” and probably “Trônâ” [Trondheim]. The third name is difficult to determine.

[194] This may be the same idea that we meet with again in the description of the Skrælings in Eric the Red’s Saga, where we are told that they were “breiðir i kinnum.”

[195] As, amongst others, the name “Norveci” is misplaced (in Jutland) in the Cottoniana map (cf. p. 192), one might almost be tempted to suppose that the cartographer had made use of Edrisi’s map without understanding the Arabic names; but this would assume so late a date for the Cottoniana map that it is scarcely probable.

[196] Cf. Seippel, 1896, pp. 138, ff.

[197] Al-Qazwînî, 1848, ii. pp. 356, 334, 412.

[198] Jacob, 1896, pp. 11, f.

[199] Seippel, 1896, p. 44.

[200] It might seem tempting to suppose that the some “Varanger” is connected with “Warank”; but this can hardly be the case. Mr. J. Qvigstad informs me that in his view the name of the fjord must be Norwegian, “and was originally ‘*Verjangr’ (from ‘*Varianger’); thence arose ‘*Verangr,’ and by progressive assimilation ‘Varangr,’ cf. the fjord-names Salangen (from Selangr), Gratangen (from Grytangr), Lavangen (from Lovangr) in the district of Tromsö. In old Danish assessment rolls of the period before the Kalmar war we find ‘Waranger.’” The first syllable must then be the Old Norse “ver” (gen. pl. “verja”) for “vær,” fishing-station, and the name would mean “the fjord of fishing-stations” (“angr” == fjord). In Lappish the Varanger fjord is called “Varjagvuödna” (“vuödna” == fjord), which “presupposes a Norwegian form ‘*Varjang’ (‘*Verjang’). The Lappish forms ‘Varje-’ and ‘Varja-’ are abbreviated from ‘Varjag.’ The district of Varanger is called in Lappish ‘Varja’ (gen. ‘Varjag,’ root ‘Varjag’). Norwegian fjord-names in ‘-angr’ are transferred to Lappish with the termination ‘-ag’; only in more recent loan-words do we find the termination ‘-aηgga’ or ‘-aηggo,’ as in ‘Pors-aηgga.’” O. Rygh thought that the first syllable in “Varanger” might be the same as in “Vardö,” Old Norse “Vargey”; but this may be more doubtful.

[201] Cf. also Jordanes’ description of the great cold in the Baltic (vol. i. p. 131).

[202] Seippel, 1896, pp. 142, 45.

[203] In another passage [c. i. 3] he says that “the habitable part extends ... towards the north as far as 63° or 66⅙°, where at the summer solstice the day attains a length of twenty hours” [cf. Ptolemy, vol. i. p. 117]. But he nevertheless thinks (like the Greeks) that at the north pole the day was six months and the night equally long.

[204] An expression from the Koran, which is used of barbarous peoples (Gog and Magog) who do not understand the speech of civilised men.

[205] Cf. A. F. Mehren, 1874, pp. 19, 158, f., 21, 193.

[206] C. de Vaux, 1898, pp. 69, f.

[207] Cf. Moltke Moe, “Maal og Minne,” Christiania, 1909, pp. 9, ff.

[208] The same ideas also occur in European fairy-tales and generally in the world of mediæval conceptions.

[209] Cf. K. Kretschmer, 1909, pp. 67, ff.; Beazley, iii. 1906, p. 511. It has been asserted that the compass was discovered at Amalfi. This is not very probable, but it seems that an important improvement of the compass may have been made there about the year 1300.

[210] Cf. D’Avezac: Coup d’œil historique sur la projection des cartes géographiques. Paris, 1863, p. 37; Th. Fischer, 1886, pp. 78, f.

[211] How early the error of the compass became known is uncertain. Even if it was known, it seems that at any rate no attention was paid to it at first; and thus the coast-lines were laid down on the charts according to the magnetic courses and not the true ones. Later on a constant error was assumed and the compass was corrected in agreement therewith; but the correction differed somewhat in the various towns where compasses were made.

[212] Björnbo and Petersen [1908, tab. 1, pp. 14, ff.] give a comparison of these names from the most important compass-charts.

[213] Reproduced by Jomard, 1879; Nordenskiöld, 1897, p. 25.

[214] Reproduced by Th. Fischer-Ongania, 1887, Pl. III. [cf. pp. 117, ff.]; Nordenskiöld, 1897, Pl. V. Cf. Björnbo, 1909, pp. 212, f.; Hamy, 1889, pp. 350, f.

[215] That, on the other hand, it should be directly connected with Ptolemy’s representation, as alleged by Hamy [1889, p. 350], is difficult to understand [cf. Björnbo, 1909, p. 213]; but an indirect influence, e.g., through Edrisi’s map, is possible.

[216] Cf. K. Kretschmer, 1891, pp. 352, ff. Vesconte was a Genoese, but resided for a long time at Venice.

[217] Cf. Saxo, ed. H. Jnsen, 1900, pp. 13, ff.; ed. P. Hermann, 1901, p. 12.

[218] On Marino Sanudo and Pietro Vesconte’s maps cf. Hamy, 1889, pp. 349, f., and Pl. VII.; Nordenskiöld, 1889, p. 51; 1897, pp. 17, 56, ff.; Kretschmer, 1909, pp. 113, ff.; Björnbo, 1909, pp. 210, f.; Björnbo, 1910, pp. 120, 122, f.; K. Miller, iii. 1895, pp. 132, ff.

[219] K. Miller [iii., 1895, p. 134] reads “alcuorum” instead of “aletiorum,” which would make it “the greatest abundance of flying creatures” [i.e., birds, which would also be appropriate to the North]. But Miller’s reading is evidently wrong, from what Björnbo has seen on the original.

[220] Cf. A. Magnaghi, 1898. The date is somewhat indistinct on the map, and it is uncertain whether it is MCCCXXV. or MCCCXXX.

[221] The dark shading along the coast and across the country represents mountain chains.

[222] As late as in Jeffery’s atlas, 1776, it is pointed out that this island is very doubtful, but, according to Kretschmer [1892, p. 221], a rock 6 degrees west of the southern point of Ireland still bears the name Brazil Rock on the charts of the British Admiralty (?).

[223] Cf. “Lageniensis,” 1870, pp. 114, ff.; Liebrecht, 1872, p. 201; Moltke Moe in A. Helland, 1908, ii. p. 516.

[224] Kunstmann [1859, pp. 7, ff.] thought that the names of the more southerly islands might be derived from that of the red dye-wood “brasile” or “bresil,” which afterwards gave its name to Brazil. He [1859, pp. 35, f., 41], and after him G. Storm [1887], were therefore misled into the belief that the island to the west of Ireland had also got its name from the same dye-wood; neither of them can have known of the Irish myth about this island. Both connect the appearance of the island on the Pizigano map (1367) with the arrival of the Greenland sailors from Markland in Norway in 1348, not being aware that the island is found on earlier maps. Storm went so far as to suppose that the word “brazil” might have become a term for a wooded island in general, and might thus be an echo of the Norse name Markland (wood-land). J. Fischer [1902, p. 110] has again fallen into the same error, but has remarked that the name was already found on Dalorto’s map of 1339. Kretschmer [1892, pp. 214, ff.] has devoted a chapter to the island of “Brazil,” but abandons the attempt to find the origin of the name and of the island, regarding the derivation from the name of the dye-wood as improbable. Hamy [1889, p. 361], however, noticed the connection of the island with the Irish myth of “O’Brazil.”

[225] Buache read the inscription on the northernmost isle of Brazil on the Pizigano map as “ysola de Mayotas seu de Bracir,” while Jomard makes it “n̊ cotus sur de Bracir.” Kretschmer [1892, p. 219] has examined the map, but can read neither one nor the other, as the text is indistinct. On the other hand, he points out that on Graciosus Benincasa’s map of 1482 the same island has a clearly legible “montorio” (on a map of 1574 “mons orius” is found), which he is equally unable to explain. It may be added that on an anonymous compass-chart of 1384 [Nordenskiöld, 1897, Pl. XV.] a corresponding island is marked “monte orius,” on Benincasa’s map of 1457 “montorius,” and on Calapoda’s map of 1552 “montoriu” [Nordenskiöld, 1897, Pl. XXXIII., XXVI.]. This is evidently our “montonis” on Dalorto’s map of 1325 appearing again.

[226] The number with the preceding words is also evidently given in the line below.

[227] Cf. Th. Fischer, 1886, pp. 42; Hamy, 1889, p. 366; Magnaghi, 1899, p. 2. I have not been able to find this legend on Dalorto’s map of 1339 (in the reproduction in Nordenskiöld’s Periplus, Pl. VIII.), where Magnaghi asserts that it is to be found.

[228] Cf. Hamy, 1888, 1903; Nordenskiöld, 1897, Pl. VIII.; Kretschmer, 1909, p. 188.

[229] This is the same form as on the later maps, pp. 231, 232, 233.

[230] For a description and reproduction of the Modena chart, see Kretschmer, 1897; Pullè and Longhena, 1907.

[231] In the reproduction, pp. 232-233, “gronlandia” is given in the inscription in the Baltic, taken from the reading of Björnbo and Petersen [1908, p. 16]. Mr. O. Vangensten has examined the original at Florence and found that this is a misreading, the correct one being “gotlandia.”

[232] On this chart there is a picture in the Northern Ocean to the west of Norway of a ship with her anchor out by the side of a whale, with the following explanation [cf. Björnbo, 1910, p. 121]: “This sea is called ‘mar bocceano,’ and therein are found great fish, which sailors take to be small islands and take up their quarters on these fish, and the sailors land on these islands and make fires, and cause such heat that the fish feels it and sets itself in motion, and they have no time to get on board and are lost; and those who know this, land on the said fish, and there make thongs of its back and make fast the head of the ship’s anchor, and in this way they flay the skin off it, whereof they make saraianes [ropes ?] for their ships, and of this skin are made good coverings for haystacks.”

We have here a combination of two mythical features. One is the great fish of the Navigatio Brandani, on which they land and make a fire to cook lamb’s flesh, when the fish begins to move, and the brethren rush to the ship, into which they are taken by Brandan, while the island disappears and they can still see the fire they have made two leagues away. Brandan told them that this was the largest of all the fish in the sea; it always tries to reach its tail with its head [like the Midgards-worm, cf. vol. i. p. 364] and its name is Iasconicus. The same myth is referred to in an Anglo-Saxon poem [Codex Exoniensis, ed. Benj. Thorpe, London, 1842, pp. 360, ff.] on the great whale Fastitocalon, where ships cast anchor and the sailors go ashore and make fires, upon which the whale dives down with ship and crew. The idea of such a fish resembling an island is also found in the northern myth of the havguva (cf. the “King’s Mirror”), or krake, and is doubtless derived from the East. Tales of landing on an apparent island which suddenly turns out to be a fish are found in Sindbad’s first voyage, in Qazwînî (where the fish is an enormous turtle), and even in Pseudo-Callisthenes in the second century [iii. 17, cf. E. Rohde, 1900, p. 192].

The second feature of flaying the skin is evidently the same as already found in Albertus Magnus (ob. 1280), and must be referred to fabulous ideas about the hunting of walrus, which was also called whale (see above, p. 163). That walrus-hide was used for ships’ ropes is, of course, well known, but that it should be also used for coverings of haystacks is not likely, as it was certainly far too valuable for that.

[233] Cf. also the anonymous Catalan chart in the Biblioteca Nazionale at Naples, reproduced in Björnbo and Petersen, 1908, Pl. I.

[234] Cf. Nordenskiöld, 1897, pp. 21, 58, Pl. X.; Hamy, 1889, pp. 414, f.; Fischer-Ongania, Pl. V.

[235] Cf. Mon. Hist. Norv., ed. Storm, 1880, p. 77. The circumstance that on one of the Sanudo maps (p. 224) Norway is divided into four peninsulas may be connected with a similar conception.

[236] Cf. Finnur Jónsson [1901, ii. p. 948], who thinks that the part dealing with the northern regions is not due to Nikulás. The hypothesis put forward by Storm, in Grönl. hist. Mind., iii. 219, that it was Abbot Nikolas of Thingeyre, appears less probable.

[237] If the old fishermen of the Polar Sea landed on any of these countries (Novaya Zemlya, Spitzbergen), they would there have found reindeer, which would again have strengthened their belief in the connection by land.

[238] The reason for this might be supposed to be the very name of Wineland, formed in a similar way to Greenland and Iceland, instead of Vin-ey (Wine island). A “land,” if one knew no better, would be more likely to be connected with the continent; whereas, if it had been called “ey,” it would have continued to be an island, as indeed it is in the Historia Norwegiæ (cf. p. 1).

[239] Storm [1890; 1892, pp. 78, ff.] and Björnbo [1909, pp. 229, ff.; 1910, pp. 82, ff.] have put forward views about these ideas of the Scandinavians which differ somewhat from those here given (cf. above, p. 2), but in the main we are in agreement. I do not think Dr. Björnbo can be altogether right in supposing that the Icelanders and Norwegians connected Greenland with Bjarmeland, and Wineland with Africa, because the learned views of the Middle Ages made this necessary; for this view of the world also acknowledged islands in the ocean (cf. Adam of Bremen), perhaps indeed more readily than it acknowledged peninsulas (cf. the wheel-maps). But perhaps, after Greenland and Wineland had been connected with the continents on other grounds, the prevailing learned view of the world demanded that the Outer Ocean should be placed outside these countries, so that they became peninsulas. But we have seen that side by side with this, other views were also held (cf., for instance, the Rymbegla and the Medicean mappamundi, pp. 236, 239).

[240] The name of the work (“Konungs-Skuggsjá” or “Speculum Regale”) had its prototype in the names of those books which were written in India for the education of princes, and which were called Princes’ Mirrors. In imitation of these, “mirror” (speculum) was used as the title of works of various kinds in mediæval Europe.

[241] Various guesses have been made as to who the author may have been and when the work was written. It appears to me that there is much to be said for the opinion put forward by A. V. Heffermehl [1904], that the author may have been the priest Ivor Bodde, Håkon Håkonsson’s foster-father. In that case the work must have been written somewhat earlier than commonly supposed [Storm put it between 1250 and 1260], and it appears that Heffermehl has given good reasons for assuming that it may have been written several years before 1250. Considerable weight as regards the determination of its date must be attached to the circumstance that, in the opinion of Professor Marius Hægstad, a vellum sheet preserved at Copenhagen (new royal collection, No. 235g) has linguistic forms which must place it certainly before 1250, and the vellum must have belonged to a copy of an older MS. On the other hand, Professor Moltke Moe has pointed out in his lectures that the quotations in the “King’s Mirror” from the book of the Marvels of India, from Prester John’s letter, are derived from a version of the latter which, as shown by Zarncke, is not known before about 1300. Moltke Moe therefore supposes that the “King’s Mirror,” in the form we know it, may be a later and incomplete adaptation of the original work. The latter may have been written by Ivar Bodde in his old age between 1230 and 1240.

[242] If Professor Moltke Moe’s view is correct, that the “King’s Mirror,” in the form which we know, is a later adaptation (cf. p. 242, note 2), it may be supposed that the section on Ireland was inserted by the adapter. Presumably a thorough examination of the linguistic forms would determine whether this is probable.

[243] The famous Roger Bacon is said to have already made an attempt, before Ptolemy’s Geography was known, to draw a map according to mathematical determinations of locality; but the map is lost [Roger Bacon, Opus majus, fol. 186-189]. The title of Nicholas of Lynn’s book is said to have been: “Inventio fortunate qui liber incipet a gradu 54, usque ad polum” (i.e., which book begins [in its description] at 54° [and goes] as far as the pole) [cf. Hakluyt, Princ. Nav., 1903, p. 303]. This may show that degrees were already in use at that time (1360) for geographical description.

[244] On Claudius Clavus see in particular Storm’s work of fundamental importance [1880-1891], and the valuable monograph by Björnbo and Petersen [1904, 1909], also A. A. Björnbo [1910]. Cf. further Nordenskiöld [1897, pp. 86, ff.], v. Wieser [Peterm. Mitteilungen, xlv. 1899, pp. 119, ff.], Jos. Fischer [1902, cap. 5], and others.

[245] Cf. Axel Olrik, “Danske Studier,” 1904, p. 215.

[246] This “secundum” in the MS. must doubtless have been inserted by a copyist. Björnbo and Petersen think the original had “ij,” which the copyist took for a Roman numeral and replaced by “secundum.” As it might seem strange that the man lived “‘in’ a river of Greenland,” Axel Olrik thought that the word might have been “wit” (by, or near); but then it becomes more difficult to understand how and why the word should have been replaced by “secundum,” unless the copyist had some knowledge of Danish.

[247] “Danske Studier,” 1907, p. 228.

[248] Many vain searches were afterwards made (in 1451 and 1461) in the monastery of Sorö for this MS. of Livy, and there may therefore be grounds for doubting the statement to be true [cf. Björnbo and Petersen, 1909, pp. 197, f.].

[249] Cf. the maps on pp. 223, 224. As we certainly do not know nearly all the maps that were in use at that time, I regard it as probable that Claudius or his draughtsman had older maps, now lost, of this or a similar type, which resemble the Nancy map even more closely than these two known maps. But of course it is wiser to confine ourselves as far as possible to those we know.

[250] Storm [1891, p. 16] was the first to hold that Clavus made use of Italian compass-charts as his model for the delineation of the south coast of Scandinavia, and that he also took names from them. Björnbo and Petersen have rejected this view, as the names in Clavus’s text are principally taken from other sources, and the Baltic has been given quite a different shape. But the necessity of this change seems to have escaped them, as it was caused by Clavus retaining Ptolemy’s outline for the South coast of the Baltic.

[251] If we assume that the names “Wildhlappelandi,” “Pigmei,” etc., on the Nancy map are due to Clavus himself, he may have had some authority like that of the anonymous letter to Pope Nicholas V. (of about 1450), which Michel Beheim may also have used (see later). From this source he may have obtained the information about the land connection between the land to the north-east of Norway and Greenland. As will be mentioned later (p. 270), it is possible that this source was Nicholas of Lynn.

[252] Storm [1891, p. 15] also maintains that on the Nancy map Thule has been incorporated with Norway, but Björnbo and Petersen [1904, p. 194; 1909, p. 158] think that this must be regarded as “one of the unfortunate results of his desire to reduce all Clavus’s contributions to a single one”; why, we are not told. According to my view there can be no doubt that Storm is right. Clavus has made the south coast of Thule into the southernmost coast of Norway, with its south-eastern point due north of the island of Ocitis, and its south-western point north of the west side of Orcadia, exactly as on Ptolemy’s map. In addition, this coast has the same latitude and longitude as the South coast of Ptolemy’s Thule.

[253] Of course there is always the possibility that Clavus may have had maps of the Medici type which resembled the Nancy map even more closely than that with which we are acquainted.

[254] On this map the tongue of land in question is nameless, while on the map of Europe in the Medicean Atlas it is given the name of “alogia,” which shows it to have been regarded as a part of Norway (see the reproduction, p. 260).

[255] As there is considerable difference between the coast-lines of Europe on Ptolemy’s maps and those on the Medici maps, one’s scale of latitude will vary according to the points one may choose for determining it. The points here given were the first I tried, and as the resulting scale seems to agree remarkably well with Clavus’s later map I have kept to it, although of course Clavus may have proceeded in a somewhat different way in determining the scale on his map; in particular he seems on the older map to have arranged it so that the parallel for 63° passed through the southernmost part of Norway, corresponding to Ptolemy’s Thule. In order better to agree with this (cf. the left-hand scale of latitude of the Nancy map) the degrees of latitude on the map above ought therefore to be increased half a degree, and on the map, p. 236, nearly a degree.

[256] On the Nancy map the southern point of Greenland lies in 63° 30′; but as we do not know how accurately this copy reproduces Clavus’s original map, it is safer to confine ourselves to Clavus’s text.

[257] Gerard Mercator writes that according to a tradition an English monk and mathematician from Oxford [i.e., Nicholas of Lynn] had been in Norway and in the islands of the north, and had described all these places and determined their latitude by the astrolabe [cf. Hakluyt, Principal Navigations, 1903, p. 301]. It is therefore possible that Clavus may have obtained the latitudes of some places, such as Stavanger and Bergen, from his work; but in any case he cannot have got the latitude of the southern point of Greenland from it. Moreover, if he had had such accurate information to depend on, it would be difficult to understand why he retained the incorrect latitudes which he obtained by introducing those of Ptolemy on the Medici map; in his later map, indeed, he has used nothing else.

[258] Cf. Sturlubók and Ivan Bárdsson’s description of Greenland. In Hauk’s Landnáma we read that it was from Hernum (that is, north of Bergen) that they sailed west to Hvarf. According to this, then, the southern point of Greenland would be brought even farther north than Bergen.

[259] Although Dr. Björnbo now admits that the Medici map must have been used for Clavus’s later map, he is still in doubt as to this being the case with the older one (the original of the Nancy map); he is inclined to think that this map may have been constructed from Northern sources, sailing directions, etc. But there appear to me to be too many striking agreements between the Medici map and the Nancy map for such an assumption to be probable; and the following may be given as instances: the number of bays between Skåne and the south coast of Norway, with the deepest bay on the west; the resemblance between the south coast of Norway with its three bays on the Nancy map and the south coast of the corresponding peninsula to the north of Scotland on the Medici map; the high latitude of this south coast on both maps; the agreement in latitude between the southern point of Greenland and that of “alogia” in the Medici map; the remarkable similarity in the relation between the longitudes of these two southern points and the west coast of Ireland on both maps; the mutual relation in latitude between the southern point of Greenland and the south coast of Norway (with Stavanger); the far too northerly latitude of all these places; the east coast of Greenland having the same main direction as the east coast of the corresponding peninsula on the Medici map, etc. To these may be added the similarity in the way the coast-lines are drawn, with round bays. Each of these points of agreement may no doubt be explained, as Björnbo suggests, as a coincidence and as having arisen in another way; but when there are so many of them it must be admitted that a connection is more natural.

[260] “Serica” on Ptolemy’s map of the world lies in the extreme north-east of Asia, and is most likely China.

[261] It seems possible, as Mr. O. Vangensten has suggested to me, that this name may here be due to a confusion of Vermeland with Bjarmeland. Peder Claussön Friis [Storm, 1881, p. 219] says that Greenland extends round the north of the “Norwegian Sea” “eastward to Biarmeland or Bermeland.”

[262] Cf. Mandeville, 1883, pp. 180, 182, 183, f. Mandeville also says that in the opinion of the old wise astronomers the circumference of the world was 20,425 English miles; but he himself maintains that it is 31,500 miles.

[263] That the delineation of this coast is not based upon personal examination, either by Clavus himself or by any possible informant, is also shown by the fact that the coast has not a single real name. Even if we suppose that Clavus, or his possible informant, during the voyage along this coast, had been so unfortunate as not to meet with a single one of the Norse inhabitants who might have communicated names, we cannot very well assume that the crew of the ship on which the voyage was made were totally unacquainted with Greenland; they must certainly have had plenty of names and sea-marks.

[264] It must be remembered that Clavus’s latitudes are throughout too high; his south point of Greenland lies about three degrees too far north, in 62° 40′ instead of 59° 46′. If we carry this reduction to the most northerly point he describes on the east coast, this will lie in about 62° 30′ instead of 65° 35′, and thus the coincidence with Cape Dan disappears. His description of the east coast of Greenland in the Nancy map is quite different.

[265] Such an inscription as this is quite in the style of Clavus’s great prototype, Ptolemy, in whom we often find: “this is the end of the coast of the known land.”

[266] It is worth remarking that Clavus puts his last point visible no less than 1° 50′ (that is, 110 nautical miles) to the north of the limit of the known land. If a statement like this was calculated to be taken as derived from local knowledge, it would not in any case disclose much nautical experience.

[267] On the influence of these men on the cartographical representation of the North, see in particular J. Fischer, 1902.

[268] As shown by Björnbo and Petersen, this is evidently Clavus’s name “Eyn Gronelandz aa” for a river on the east coast of Greenland, which was misunderstood on Clavus’s map and made the name of the country, assisted perhaps by the resemblance in sound with the name Engromelandi (for Ångermanland), which Clavus has on the north side of Scandinavia (p. 248). This resemblance of sound may also have had something to do with the removal of Greenland to the north of Norway.

[269] Cf. Grönl. hist. Mind., iii. p. 168. Björnbo [1910, p. 79] by a slip quotes the letter to Pope Nicholas V. of about the same date, instead of that given above.

[270] According to Lelewel [Epilogue, Pl. 6] this peninsula bears the name of “Grinland,” but this cannot be seen on the somewhat indistinct original [cf. Björnbo, 1910, p. 80; Ongania, Pl. X.].

[271] Storm [1893], and following him J. Fischer [1902, pp. 99, ff.], erroneously regard this island of Brazil as Markland (see above, p. 229).

[272] See J. Fischer, 1902, p. 99. Cf. also Björnbo, 1910, pp. 125, ff., who gives a drawing of the map.

[273] Two editions are reproduced in Nordenskiöld [1897, p. 61] and Ongania [Pl. XIV.].

[274] Reproduced by Nordenskiöld [1897, p. 5] and Lelewel [1851, Pl. XXXIII.]; Miller, 1895, iii. p. 138.

[275] Björnbo, by the way, only speaks of two islands, whereas in Lelewel’s reproduction there are four islands, which is no doubt correct. It seems, too, as though all four could be faintly distinguished in Björnbo’s photographic reproduction [1910, p. 74].

[276] As to Behaim, see in particular Ravenstein, 1908.

[277] Cf. Storm, 1899, p. 5.

[278] Cf. Harrisse, 1892, pp. 655, ff.

[279] As is well known, the possibility has been suggested that during his visit to Iceland in 1477 Columbus may have heard of the Norsemen’s voyages to Greenland, Markland and Wineland, and that this may have given him the idea of his plan. Storm has pointed out, convincingly it seems to me, the untenability of the latter supposition. But it appears to me that he has overlooked the possibility of Columbus having heard tales of these voyages in Bristol, or, still more probably, on a Bristol vessel. As, of course, he must have been able to make himself understood among the other sailors on board, it would be unlikely that he should not have heard such tales, if they were known to his ship-mates.

[280] Willelmus Botoner, alias de Worcester (1415-1484). MS. in Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, No. 210; printed in “Itineraria Symonis Simeonis et Willelmi de Worcestre,” ed. J. Nasmyth, Cambridge, 1778, pp. 223, 267. Cf. H. Harrisse, 1892, p. 659; Kretschmer, 1892, p. 219.

[281] The Island of the Seven Cities was a fabulous island out in the Atlantic which is frequently alluded to in the latter part of the Middle Ages.

[282] As to John Cabot and his voyages, see in particular Henry Harrisse [1882, 1892, 1896, 1900], F. Tarducci [1892, 1894], Sir Clements R. Markham [1893, 1897], Samuel Edward Dawson [1894, 1896, 1897], C. R. Beazley [1898], G. Parker Winship [1899, 1900]. Harrisse amongst recent authors has the special merit of having collected and arranged all the authorities on John and Sebastian Cabot. Unfortunately I am unable to follow him in his conclusions from these authorities as to the voyages of John and Sebastian. It seems to me that, like most other writers, he pays too much attention to later statements, derived directly or indirectly from Sebastian Cabot, while he places too little reliance on what, in my opinion, may be concluded with tolerable certainty from contemporary sources. Sebastian Cabot’s statements on various occasions, so far as we know them, prove to be mutually conflicting, and it looks as if this wily man seldom expressed himself without some arrière-pensée or other, which was more to his own advantage than to that of the truth. My views of John Cabot’s voyage of 1497 on several points agree more nearly with those of S. E. Dawson, and for later voyages with those of G. Parker Winship.

[283] Cf. Harrisse, 1896, pp. 1, ff.

[284] Cf. Harrisse, 1882, p. 325.

[285] The Minister Raimondo di Soncino says in his letter of December 18, 1497, to the Duke of Milan, that Cabot, “after having seen that the Kings of Spain and Portugal had acquired unknown islands, had proposed to obtain a similar acquisition for the King of England.” It cannot be concluded from this that it was not till then that Cabot formed his plans, though probably it was at that time that he first entered into negotiations with the King of England. It is in the same letter that Soncino tells of Cabot’s speculations on seeing caravans arriving at Mecca from the far east with spices, etc. His son, Sebastian Cabot, who evidently on several occasions made it appear as though he himself and not his father had discovered the American continent, is reported (according to the statement of the anonymous guest in Ramusio, see below) to have said that he [i.e., Sebastian] got the idea of his expedition after having heard of the discovery of Columbus, which was a common subject of conversation at the court of Henry VII. But even if Sebastian’s words are correctly reported, which is doubtful, he must demonstrably have been lying, and therefore no weight can be attached to his statement; if he could sacrifice his father to his personal advantage, then no doubt, if he profited by it, he could also sacrifice his birthright in the plan to the advantage of Spain, in the service of which country he then was. Furthermore, Ayala’s letter, quoted above, points to John Cabot having got expeditions sent out from Bristol as early as 1491 to look for land in the west, and besides this we know of such an expedition in 1480.

[286] They are dated March 5, in the eleventh year of the reign of Henry VII. The eleventh year of Henry VII. was from August 22, 1495, to August 21, 1496.

[287] Cf. Harrisse, 1882, p. 315.

[288] It has been suggested that Cabot set out in 1496 and did not return till August 1497 [cf. Church, 1897], but this cannot be reconciled with the statements in the letters of Soncino and Pasqualigo that the expedition had only lasted a few months.

[289] According to Soncino’s letter of December 18, 1497, Cabot was a poor man. In addition to this he was a foreigner, and as such was scarcely looked upon with favour; but on the other hand, the reputation of Italian sailors was great at that time, and he may therefore have been respected for his knowledge of seamanship and cartography, which was not possessed by the sailors of Bristol.

[290] The only ones of these named in the authorities (Soncino’s letter, December 18, 1497) are Cabot’s Italian barber (surgeon ?) from Castione, and a man from Burgundy.

[291] Between 1493 and 1500 at least thirty expeditions went in search of the coast of America. These were all certainly provided with charts, and some of them also produced maps of their discoveries, but not one of these has been preserved. [Cf. Harrisse, 1900, p. 14.]

[292] No importance can be attached in this connection to any of the statements derived at second or third hand from Sebastian Cabot and communicated by Contarini, Peter Martyr, Ramusio, and others. So far as they are worthy of credence, they must refer to one or more later voyages. The statement in the Cottonian Chronicle and in the Fabyan Chronicle refers to the voyage of 1498.

[293] Harrisse’s reproduction of the letter [1882, p. 322] reads: “Vene in nave per dubito ...”; while Tarducci [1892, p. 350] gives: “Vene in mare per dubito ...”, where “mare” is perhaps a misprint for “nave” (?) In any case the meaning must be that Cabot turned back and would not go farther into the country for fear of being attacked by the inhabitants, which might easily have been dangerous for him with his small crew.

[294] That is, the mystical “Island of the Seven Cities” out in the Atlantic.

[295] It is interesting that here we find attributed to the newly discovered country the two features, dye-wood and silk, which were the most costly treasures characteristic of the land that was sought, exactly in the same way as the Norsemen attributed to their Wineland the Good the two features, wine and cornfields (wheat), which were characteristic of the Fortunate Isles. Thus history repeats itself.

[296] Probably Castiglione, near Chivari, by Genoa.

[297] Cf. Encyclopædia Britannica, 9th ed., Edinburgh, 1875, iv. p. 350; and G. P. Winship, 1900, p. 99.

[298] It is by no means improbable that Cabot, who was an expert navigator, knew that great-circle sailing gave the shorter course. For instance, he might easily have seen this from a globe, and we are told that he himself made a globe to illustrate his voyage (cf. p. 304).

[299] It must also be remembered that on the Newfoundland Banks and off the coast of Newfoundland and Nova Scotia fogs are extremely prevalent (in places over 50 per cent. of the days) at the time of year here in question, so that their first sight of land might be accidental.

[300] Harrisse [1896, pp. 63, ff.] does not seem to have remarked that Cabot must necessarily have been longer on the westward voyage, when he had the prevailing winds against him, than on the homeward voyage, when the wind conditions were favourable.

[301] No particular weight, it is true, can be attached to the map of 1544 which is attributed to Sebastian Cabot, or which was at any rate influenced by him, as the statements of this man can never be depended upon. At the same time, the information given on this map to the effect that Cabot first reached land at Cape Breton agrees in a remarkable way with La Cosa’s map, as we shall see directly.

[302] The distance from Ireland to Newfoundland is fully 1600 geographical miles, and to Cape Breton about 1900; but reckoned from Bristol it will be about 280 miles more.

[303] To be perfectly accurate, the distance on La Cosa’s map between Ireland and Cauo de Ynglaterra is 1290 geographical miles; between Bristol and the same cape 1620 miles; while the distance between Cauo de Ynglaterra and the name of Cauo descubierto is 1080 miles. If we reckon 17½ leagues to a degree, these distances correspond respectively to 376, 472 and 315 leagues; while 20 leagues to a degree give 430, 540 and 360 leagues. As the name of Cauo descubierto stands out in the sea to the west of the cape it belongs to, the distance will be less, very nearly 300 leagues. Along the upper margin of the map a scale is provided, each division of which, according to the usual practice, corresponds to 50 miglia. This gives us the distance from Ireland to Cauo de Ynglaterra as 1425 miglia, and from the latter to the name of Cauo descubierto 1200. Reckoning 4 miglia to a legua, these distances will be 356 and 300 leagues.

[304] I here disregard altogether the common assertions that Cabot arrived on the east coast of Newfoundland (at Cape Bonavista, or to the north of it), or even on the coast of Labrador. This cannot possibly be reconciled with La Cosa’s map, nor does it agree with the accounts of Pasqualigo and Soncino, nor, again, with the information on the map of 1544 (by Sebastian Cabot ?), if we are to attach any weight to this. Other trustworthy documents are unknown. No importance can be attributed to the evidence of Cabot’s having arrived in Labrador in 1497 which Harrisse (1896, pp. 78, ff.) thinks may be seen in the circumstance that the English discoveries are placed in the northernmost part of the east coast of North America (between 56° and 60°) on the official Spanish maps of the first half of the sixteenth century; this does not by any means counterbalance La Cosa’s map, which speaks plainly enough. Even if Sebastian Cabot had the superintendence of these later maps, this proves little or nothing. If it was to his interest not to offend the Spaniards by emphasising his father’s discoveries, he would scarcely have hesitated to omit them, or allow them to be moved to the north. For on these very maps (e.g., Ribero’s of 1529) it is claimed that the whole coast to the south-west of Newfoundland (“Tiera nova de Cortereal”) was discovered by Spaniards (Gomez and Ayllon). But in addition to this, in so far as any importance can be attributed to the inscriptions attached to “Labrador” on the Spanish maps, they evidently, like others of the statements attributed to Sebastian Cabot, do not refer to Cabot’s discoveries of 1497, which are found on La Cosa’s map, but to discoveries made on later English voyages from Bristol, on which ice was met with. If the map of 1544 can be attributed to the collaboration of Sebastian Cabot, it further shows clearly enough that he had no knowledge of the northern part of the east coast of America, since he makes it extend to the east and north-east, which is due to Greenland (Labrador) being included in it. The map is a plagiarism of an earlier French one. Harrisse’s view results in complete embarrassment in the interpretation of La Cosa’s map [cf. 1900, p. 21], and he is obliged to abandon the attempt to make anything of it, since, of course, it contradicts all he thinks may be concluded from the much later Spanish maps. Moreover, since Harrisse insists so strongly on the importance of the northerly latitudes of the English discoveries on these maps (and on La Cosa’s) as a proof of their being on the coast of Labrador, it should be pointed out that the latitudes of Newfoundland, for instance, and Greenland, to say nothing of the West Indian islands, vary on the maps; this shows that no weight can be attached to evidence of this kind.

[305] It has been maintained that “Cauo descubierto” must denote the land he first sighted; but the name only means “discovered cape,” and says nothing as to its being discovered first or last. There may indeed have been more about it on Cabot’s original map, and it happens that on La Cosa’s map there is a hole in the parchment just after this name. That it should be the same cape that on “Sebastian Cabot’s” map of 1544 is called “Prima tierra vista” is not likely, as this lies at the extreme east of the promontory of Cape Breton.

[306] For determining this I have to some extent relied on later maps, chiefly the Cantino map, where the direction of the north-eastern coast of Newfoundland gives a magnetic error of between 31° and 38°, and the direction between Cape Farewell and Cape Race gives an error of 28°, which is certainly somewhat too high.

[307] To this it might be objected that he says “the tides are sluggish, and do not run” as in England (“le aque e stanche e non han corso come qui”). The tide is considerable inside the Bay of Fundy, but on the coast of Maine and in the outer waters of Nova Scotia it is slight in comparison with the tide Cabot was acquainted with in the Bristol Channel.

[308] It must always be remembered that La Cosa did not have Cabot’s original chart, on which the coast and the Bay of Fundy may have been represented more in accordance with reality.

[309] La Cosa’s map may point to his having made a cruise in the open sea westward from Cauo descubierto before turning, and having seen the coast extending on, until in the far west it turned southward towards a headland, perhaps Cape Cod, where La Cosa put his westernmost flag. But this seems doubtful, and is only guessing.

[310] That the distance between these islands and Cauo de Ynglaterra is less than half what it ought to be on La Cosa’s map cannot be considered of decisive importance, since, as we have seen, the distances on this map are in general not to be relied on. The name “S. Grigor” must certainly be due to the Englishmen, while “Y. verde” may be due to Cabot or to La Cosa, and may be the same name as is found on compass-charts of the fifteenth century (cf. above, p. 279). La Cosa or Cabot may have taken these two islands to be the same as “Illa verde” and “Illa brazil” on these older charts, and while one of the islands has been given a new name perhaps because there were other islands with the name of Brazil (?), or because this island was nameless on some of the compass-charts; see above, p. 281, the other has been allowed to retain the old name, which was originally a translation of Greenland. This old land of the Norsemen is here brought far to the south, and reduced to a very modest size, being confused with peninsulas of Newfoundland.

[311] As evidence that a homeward voyage of twenty-three days would not be unusually fast sailing for that time, it may be mentioned for comparison that Cartier, in June and July 1536, took nineteen days from Cape Race to St. Malo. Champlain made the same voyage in 1603 in eighteen days, and in 1607 he took twenty-seven days from Canso, near Cape Breton, to St. Malo.

[312] Cf. Dawson, 1897, pp. 209, ff.