CHAPTER III

THE CABOT VOYAGES—JOHN CABOT, 1497 AND 1498

The subject of the Cabot voyages is one of the most puzzling in history, ranking indeed with the identity of Shakespeare as a battle-ground for the exponents of conflicting theories. The trouble arises from the fact that, while John and Sebastian Cabot actually lived and performed important discoveries in the dim days of England’s awakening from the sleep of mediaeval ignorance, few of their contemporaries felt sufficient interest in their exploits to write down a clear account of them for the benefit of posterity. Consequently the contemporary records are vague, ambiguous, and wofully incomplete, leaving (when purged of all uncertainties) little more of absolute truth than that John Cabot made two voyages across the Atlantic in 1497 and 1498, discovering some part of what is now British North America in the course of the first of them.

The progress of discovery in the sixteenth century produced numerous historians to narrate its annals. These men, living for the most part in Spain and Italy, had to turn for their information, in default of access to State archives, to such survivors of the exploits themselves as they were able to get into touch with. John Cabot had died soon after his great discovery, and, since his men were for the most part English, not one of them came in contact with any of the historians of southern Europe. The latter had therefore to seek information from Sebastian Cabot, his second son, who entered the service of Spain in 1512, lived in that country for five and thirty years, and returned to pass the last decade of his life in England, dying at a great age in 1557. Sebastian Cabot, then, not only moulded the foreign version of his story, but also in England was the sole link between the late fifteenth century, when men of letters took no interest in ocean voyages, and the mid-sixteenth, when the country was beginning to realize that her future lay upon the water. Thus the first ‘expansionist’ writer in England, Richard Eden, sat at Sebastian’s feet and drank in his stories of ancient discovery, which in this way secured acceptance as the whole truth and nothing but the truth until the sceptical nineteenth century began to institute a more searching inquiry.

Sebastian Cabot was a vain egoist, fond of giving vent to mysterious, bombastic utterances containing a maximum of self-praise and a minimum of hard fact. So, when appealed to by the historians for information on North American explorations, he said nothing of his father’s two voyages of 1497 and 1498, in which he may have taken part, and the details of which he must have been familiar with, but described instead a subsequent expedition, which he had himself commanded, in search of a north-west passage round America to Asia. The sixteenth-century histories therefore contain _no mention_ of John Cabot, and the accounts found therein _have no bearing whatever_ on his two voyages.[43] A recognition of this fact is essential because it has been very generally believed that there were only two Cabot voyages, whereas there were actually three; and that Sebastian, in describing himself as commander of a north-western expedition, was talking of the original discovery in 1497 or of the following voyage in 1498, and taking the credit of them to himself. In reality, Sebastian Cabot was telling the truth in describing his own voyage, and merely suppressing the truth in saying nothing of his father’s. In other words, he was not so great a liar as he has been painted.

Turning first to John Cabot’s discovery of North America, by him thought to be eastern Asia, in 1497, and his second voyage to the same region in 1498, it will be convenient first to state the sources of information, and afterwards to examine the conclusions to which they lead.

On March 5, 1496, Letters Patent were granted to the Cabot family by Henry VII, to the following effect:

Permission to John Cabottus and to Ludovicus, Sebastianus, and Sanctus his sons to take five ships at their own charges, to navigate in any seas to the east, north, or west, and to occupy and possess any new found lands hitherto unvisited by Christians. They were to voyage only from and to the port of Bristol, and were to be exempt from the payment of customs on goods brought from the new lands. No other subjects of the king were to trade to the new lands without licence from the Cabots. In return for these privileges one-fifth of all profits were to be paid to the king.

News of the project reached the ears of de Puebla, the Spanish ambassador in England, who transmitted it to his sovereigns. His letter to them is lost, but their reply, dated March 28, 1496, was as follows:

‘You write that a person like Columbus has come to England for the purpose of persuading the king to enter into an undertaking similar to that of the Indies, without prejudice to Spain and Portugal. He is quite at liberty. But we believe that the undertaking was thrown in the way of the King of England by the King of France with the premeditated intention of distracting him from his other business. Take care that the King of England be not deceived on this or in any other matter. The French will try as hard as they can to lead him into such undertakings, but they are very uncertain enterprises, and must not be gone into at present. Besides, they cannot be executed without prejudice to us and to the King of Portugal.’[44]

The remainder of 1496 was consumed in preparations or, less probably, an unsuccessful voyage was made in that year. In any case, John Cabot set out in 1497, found land on the other side of the ocean, and was back by the beginning of August. The following letters describe the voyage:

Lorenzo Pasqualigo to his brothers in Venice, August 23, 1497.

'The Venetian, our countryman, who went with a ship from Bristol in quest of new islands, is returned, and says that 700 leagues hence he discovered land, the territory of the Grand Cham. He coasted for 300 leagues and landed; saw no human beings, but he has brought hither to the king certain snares which had been set to catch game, and a needle for making nets; he also found some felled trees, wherefore he supposed that there were inhabitants, and returned to his ship in alarm.

'He was three months on the voyage, and on his return he saw two islands to starboard, but would not land, time being precious as he was short of provisions. He says that the tides are slack and do not flow as they do here. The King of England is much pleased with this intelligence.

'The King has promised that in the spring our countryman shall have ten ships, armed to his order, and at his request has conceded him all the prisoners, except such as are confined for high treason, to man his fleet. The King has also given him money wherewith to amuse himself till then, and he is now at Bristol with his wife, who is also Venetian, and with his sons; his name is Zuan Cabot, and he is styled the Great Admiral. Vast honour is paid him; he dresses in silk, and these English run after him like mad people, so that he can enlist as many of them as he pleases, and a number of our own rogues besides.

'The discoverer of these places planted on his new found land a large cross, with one flag of England and another of S. Mark, by reason of his being a Venetian, so that our banner has floated very far afield.

‘London, 23rd August, 1497.’[45]

Raimondo de Soncino to the Duke of Milan, August 24, 1497.

‘... Also some months ago His Majesty sent out a Venetian, who is a very good mariner, and has good skill in discovering new islands, and he has returned safe, and has found two very large and fertile new islands; having likewise discovered the seven cities, four hundred leagues from England, on a western passage. This next spring, his majesty means to send him with 15 to 20 ships.’[46]

Raimondo de Soncino to the Duke of Milan, December 18, 1497. From the State Archives of Milan. Printed for the first time in English in _Narrative and Critical History of America_, edited by Justin Winsor, Cambridge, Mass., 1886, vol. iii. The Cabot section is by Charles Deane, F.S.A.

‘Most illustrious and excellent my lord:

‘Perhaps among your Excellency’s many occupations, it may not displease you to learn how his Majesty here has won a part of Asia without a stroke of the sword. There is in this Kingdom a Venetian fellow, master John Caboto by name, of a fine mind, greatly skilled in navigation, who seeing that those most serene kings, first he of Portugal, then the one of Spain, have occupied unknown islands, determined to make a like acquisition for his Majesty aforesaid. And having obtained royal grants that he should have the usufruct of all that he should discover, provided that the ownership of the same is reserved to the crown, with a small ship and 18 persons he committed himself to fortune; and having set out from Bristol, a western port of this kingdom, and passed the western limits of Hibernia, and then standing to the northward he began to steer eastward (sic), having (after a few days) the north star on his right hand; and having wandered about considerably, at last he fell in with terra firma, where, having planted the royal banner, and taken possession on behalf of this king, and taken certain tokens, he has returned thence. The said Master John, as being foreign-born and poor, would not be believed, if his comrades, who are almost all Englishmen and from Bristol, did not testify that what he says is true. This Master John has the description of the world in a chart, and also in a solid globe which he has made, and he (or the chart and the globe) shows where he landed, and that going towards the east (sic) he passed considerably beyond the country of the Tanais. And they say that it is a very good and temperate country, and they think that Brasil wood and silks grow there; and they affirm that the sea is covered with fishes, which are caught not only with the net, but with baskets, a stone being tied in them in order that the baskets may sink in the water. And this I heard the said master John relate, and the aforesaid Englishmen his comrades say they will bring so many fishes that the kingdom will no longer have need of Iceland, from which country there comes a great store of fish called stockfish. But Master John has set his mind on something greater; for he expects to go further on towards the East (Levant), from that place already occupied, constantly hugging the shore, until he shall be over against an island, by him called Cipango, situated in the equinoctial region, where he thinks all the spices of the world, and also the precious stones, originate; and he says that in former times he was at Mecca, whither spices are brought by caravans from distant countries, and that those who brought them, on being asked where the said spices grow, answered that they do not know, but that other caravans came to their homes with this merchandise from distant countries, and these again say that they are brought to them from other remote regions. And he argues thus—that if the Orientals affirmed to the southerners that these things came from a distance from them, and so from hand to hand, presupposing the rotundity of the earth, it must be that the last ones get them at the north towards the west, and he said it in such a way that, having nothing to gain or lose by it, I too believe it, and what is more, the King here, who is wise and not lavish, likewise puts some faith in him; for since his return he has made good provision for him, as the same Master John tells me. And it is said that, in the spring, his Majesty aforenamed will fit out some ships, and will besides give him all the convicts, that they will go to that country to make a colony, by means of which they hope to establish in London a greater storehouse of spices than there is in Alexandria; and the chief men of the enterprise are of Bristol, great sailors, who, now that they know where to go, say that it is not a voyage of more than fifteen days, nor do they ever have storms after they get away from Hibernia. I have also talked with a Burgundian, a comrade of Master John’s, who confirms everything, and wishes to return thither because the Admiral (for so Master John already entitles himself) has given him an island; and he has given another one to a barber of his from Castiglione of Genoa, and both of them regard themselves as counts, nor does my Lord the Admiral esteem himself anything less than a Prince. I think that with this expedition there will go several poor Italian monks, who have all been promised bishoprics. And, as I have become a friend of the Admiral’s, if I wished to go thither I should get an archbishopric. I humbly commend myself,

‘Your Excellency’s ‘Very humble servant, Raimundus.’

The next two letters mainly concern the second voyage, that of 1498:

Pedro de Ayala to Ferdinand and Isabella, July 25, 1498.

‘I think your Majesties have already heard that the King of England has equipped a fleet in order to discover certain islands and continents which he was informed some people from Bristol, who manned a few ships for the same purpose last year, had found. I have seen the map which the discoverer has made, who is another Genoese like Columbus, and who has been in Seville and Lisbon asking assistance for his discoveries. The people of Bristol have, for the last seven years, sent out every year two, three or four light ships (_caravelas_) in search of the island of Brasil and the seven cities, according to the fancy of this Genoese. The King determined to send out ships because, the year before, they brought certain news that they found land. His fleet consisted of five vessels, which carried provisions for one year. It is said that one of them, in which one Friar Buil went, has returned to Ireland in great distress, the ship being much damaged. The Genoese has continued his voyage. I have seen, on a chart, the direction they took and the distance they sailed; and I think that what they have found, or what they are in search of, is what your Highnesses already possess. It is expected that they will be back in the month of September. I write this because the King of England has often spoken to me on this subject, and he thinks that your Highnesses will take great interest in it. I think it is not further distant than 400 leagues. I told him that, in my opinion, the land was already in the possession of your Majesties, but though I gave him my reasons, he did not like them. I believe that your Highnesses are already informed of this matter, and I do not now send the chart or _mapa mundi_ which that man has made, and which, according to my opinion, is false, since it makes it appear that the land in question was not the said islands.’[47]

De Puebla to Ferdinand and Isabella, July 25 (?), 1498. Printed in the Hakluyt Society’s _Journal of Columbus_, 1893.

‘The King of England sent five armed ships with another Genoese like Columbus to search for the island of Brasil and others near it. They were victualled for a year. They say that they will be back in September. By the direction they take, the land they seek must be the possession of your Highnesses. The King has sometimes spoken to me about it, and seems to take a very great interest in it. I believe that the distance from here is not 400 leagues.’

A second charter, granted on February 2, 1498, also bears upon the second voyage:

Petition of ‘John Kabotto, Venetian,’ for a charter in the following terms, which was accordingly granted: Authority and power to John Cabot ‘that he by him, his deputie, or deputies sufficient’ may take six ships, up to 200 tons burden, and voyage to ‘the lande and isles of late founde by the seid John’. All subjects of the King to give every assistance in their power to Cabot for the furtherance of the enterprise.

The successful return of John Cabot in 1497 has some traces in the records of official business:

Grant from the Privy Purse of Henry VII, August 10, 1497, ‘To him who found the New Isle, £10’.[48]

Pension grant of £20 per annum to John Cabot, December 13, 1497.

‘Henry by the grace of God, etc. to John, Cardinal Archbishop of Canterbury etc., Our Chancellor, greeting. We let you wit that we, for certain considerations us specially moving, have given and granted unto our well-beloved John Calbot of the parts of Venice an annuity or annual rent of £20 sterling, to be had and yearly perceived from the Feast of the Annunciation of Our Lady last past, during our pleasure, of our customs and subsidies coming and growing in our port of Bristol, by the hands of our customers there for the time being, at Michaelmas and Easter, by even portions. Wherefore we will and charge you that under our Great Seal ye do make thereupon our letters patent in good and effectual form. Given under our Privy Seal, at our palace of Westminster, the 15th day of December, the 13th year of our Reign.’[49]

Together with this may be taken the authorization for the immediate payment of the pension, which would seem to have been delayed, dated February 22, 1498.[50] Both these documents are printed by Mr. C. R. Beazley in his _John and Sebastian Cabot_ (1898).

Memoranda of loans of £20 to Launcelot Thirkill of London, ‘going towards the new island’, March 22, 1498; £30 to Thomas Bradley and Launcelot Thirkill, ‘going to the New Isle’, April 1, 1498; and 40 shillings and five pence to John Carter, ‘going to the new isle’.[51]

Launcelot Thirkill’s name appears again in a document of 1501, which shows that he returned safely from this voyage (the second), if indeed he actually performed it.

In this category also falls the important discovery made in 1897 among the Westminster Chapter Archives,[52] consisting of the accounts of the Customers of Bristol for the years 1497–8 and 1498–9. These accounts show that John Cabot’s pension of £20 was paid during the years named. He is mentioned by name, and the customers deduct the amount of the pension from the total receipts which they hand over to the Exchequer officers.

A manuscript chronicle, of unknown authorship, in the British Museum,[53] contains a reference to the second voyage, ostensibly written before its return:

'This yere (1498) the Kyng at the besy request and supplicacion of a straunger Venisian, which by a chart made hymself expert in knowyng of the world, caused the Kyng to manne a ship w^t. vytaill and other necessaries for to seche an Iland wheryn the said straunger surmysed to be grete comodities. W^t which ship by the Kyng’s grace so rygged went iij or iiij moo owte of Bristowe, the said straunger beyng conditor of the said fleete, wheryn divers m’chants as well of London as Bristow aventured goods and sleight m’chandises, which dep’ted from the west cuntrey in the begynnyng of somer but to this p’sent moneth came nevir knowledge of their exployt.'

Stow and Hakluyt both quote from a manuscript chronicle, then in the possession of the former, but now lost. Hakluyt says it was written by Robert Fabyan. Stow’s version (1615 edition, p. 481), almost identical with Hakluyt’s except as regards the name of the explorer, runs thus:

'1498, an. reg. 14. This yeere one Sebastian Gabato, a Genoa’s sonne, borne in Bristow, professing himself to be expert in knowledge of the circuit of the world and islands of the same, as by his charts and other reasonable demonstrations he showed, caused the King to man and victual a ship at Bristow to search for an Iland, which he knew to be replenished with commodities. In the ship divers merchants of London adventured small stocks, and in the company of this ship, sayled also out of Bristow three or foure smal shippes fraught with sleight and grosse wares, as course cloth, caps, laces, points and such other....

'1502, ann. reg. 18. This yeere were brought unto the King three men taken in the new found Ilands, by Sebastian Gabato, before named, in anno 1498. These men were clothed in beasts’ skins, and eate raw flesh, but spake such a language as no man could understand them, of the which three men, two of them were seen in ye King’s court at Westminster two yeares after, clothed like Englishmen, and could not be discerned from Englishmen.'

Hakluyt’s version adds at the end of the 1498 extract: 'And so departed from Bristow in the beginning of May, of whom in this Maior’s time returned no tidings'; and at the end of the 1502 extract: ‘but as for speach, I heard none of them utter one word’. (The Mayor referred to was William Purchas, whose term of office expired at the end of October 1498.) Hakluyt printed this extract from the now lost Fabyan chronicle in his _Divers Voyages_ (1582), and again in his _Principal Navigations_ (1599). The two versions differ in two respects: in _Divers Voyages_ the name of John Cabot is omitted, he being simply designated ‘a Venetian’; while the bringing of the savages to England is placed in the eighteenth year of Henry VII's reign instead of the fourteenth as in _Principal Navigations_. Stow’s own extract, as has been seen, calls the explorer Sebastian Gabato. The variations were intentional rather than accidental, as it was the habit of both editors to amend their material where they considered it to be in error, without drawing attention to the fact. The truth probably is that Hakluyt had no warrant for his alteration of the date of the arrival of the savages, other than his ignorance of later voyages and consequent assumption that Cabot must have brought them. It is now known that other expeditions were made in the early years of the sixteenth century, and that these savages were most probably kidnapped by one of them, thus having nothing to do with the Cabots.

The final piece of evidence bearing on John Cabot is that contained in an inscription on a map of the world published in 1544, and attributed, with fair certainty, to Sebastian Cabot himself. An example of this map came to light during the nineteenth century, and is now at Paris. The inscription relating to the Cabots was translated by Hakluyt from a copy of the map which was in the possession of Queen Elizabeth at Westminster. Copies of it were numerous in England in Elizabeth’s time.

‘In the yere of our Lord 1497 [1494 in Paris copy], John Cabot a Venetian, and his sonne Sebastian (with an English fleet set out from Bristoll) discovered that land which no man before that time had attempted, on the 24th of June, about five of the clocke early in the morning. This land he called Prima Vista, that is to say, First seene, because as I suppose it was that part whereof they had the first sight from the sea. That Island which lieth out before the land, he called the Island of S. John on that occasion, as I thinke, because it was discovered on the day of John the Baptist. The inhabitants of this Island use to weare beastes skinnes and have them in as great estimation as we have our finest garments. In their warres they use bowes, arrowes, pikes, darts, woodden clubs, and slings. The soile is barren in some places, and yeeldeth little fruit, but it is full of white beares, and stagges farre greater then ours. It yeeldeth plenty of fish, and those very great, as seales, and those which commonly we call salmons: there are soles also above a yard in length: but especially there is great abundance of that kinde of fish which the savages call baccalaos. In the same Island also there breed hauks, but they are so blacke that they are very like to ravens, as also their partridges, and egles, which are in like sorte blacke.’

The two Letters Patent granted by Henry VII afford some information as to the Cabot family and the intentions of the king. Owing to their length and verbosity they have been merely summarized here, but they have been frequently printed _in extenso_. In the first of them occurs the only mention of the name of Sebastian Cabot in strictly contemporary documents (contemporary, that is, with the voyages). It has been deduced that, since Sebastian was evidently the second son and at least a year older than Sanctus, and since the name of a minor would not appear in such a charter, Sebastian must have been twenty-two years old at least in 1496. Another point to be noticed is that permission was given to sail to the east, the west, or the north, but not to the south. Henry VII was on friendly terms with both Spain and Portugal, and wished to remain so; he was therefore careful not to allow Cabot to trespass on their routes, although he was quite aware that the end in view—i.e. the discovery of a sea-passage to Asia—was identical with theirs. He was not prepared to risk a quarrel for an unachieved advantage, but was evidently ready to do so if a lucrative trade were proved to be possible; otherwise he would not have engaged in the adventure at all.

The second charter is evidently intended to supplement, but not to supersede, the first. It omits the provisions as to customs, monopoly, and payments to the king, and confines itself to the details of the second expedition. It is valuable as proving beyond doubt that John Cabot commanded on the first voyage, and was successful in finding land. There is no mention in it of any of his sons, and no other document for nearly fifty years associates Sebastian with John’s discoveries, the next joint reference to the pair occurring in the map of 1544. This, however, is no proof that Sebastian did _not_ sail on these expeditions, and the point must be regarded as doubtful.

It should be noted that the terms of the first charter are such that it holds good for an indefinite time, and that no new grant was really needed for making further voyages. Therefore the fact that no third charter exists does not preclude the possibility of voyages having taken place other than those of 1497 and 1498.

The six contemporary letters, all of them unknown until the latter half of the nineteenth century, are the most valuable authorities remaining for the deeds of John Cabot. The evidence they afford is of the highest class, since they are written by observant third parties, and not by the explorer or his sovereign for the purpose of glorifying their own achievements. In particular, the letters of Pasqualigo and Soncino, which give the greatest amount of information on the first voyage, represent the conclusions formed by intelligent bystanders with no personal interest in the affair, and writing with the sole object of giving useful news to the recipients. They are therefore free from the taint of possible bias and self-interest, which is inherent in the later statements of Sebastian Cabot, and any misstatements they contain are the result of ignorance rather than intention.

The Venetian colony in London was rich and numerous, and its members must naturally have taken a deep interest in the exploit of their countryman. Pasqualigo was an important member of it, and probably became personally acquainted with Cabot or some of his followers. His letter has an air of accuracy, and the details given, although meagre, are not fanciful, with the exception of the distances, which are probably loose statements of members of the crew. Considering that Cabot was only three months on the voyage, it is hardly possible that he could have coasted for 300 leagues.

There is a great contrast between the two letters of Soncino. The first, written soon after the arrival of Cabot in London, is evidently based on hearsay and rumour, and contains no fact of importance. The second dispatch of Soncino is a news-letter written several months after the return of the 1497 expedition, and shows that in the interim the writer has taken great pains to obtain full information on the subject. The letter is a model of clearness and businesslike arrangement. The writer gives authorities for his statements; he has talked with Cabot and with members of his crew; he has listened to the explorer’s demonstrations, probably in the presence of the king and the court; he gives some idea of Cabot’s character and personality, and the amount of credence which should be paid to him; and when he falls back on rumour he is careful to insert ‘it is said’. He has evidently displayed such an intelligent interest that Cabot has offered him a place in the next expedition. Full value may therefore be assigned to the facts in his letter. When Soncino speaks of sailing to the east, he means of course the west. He had in mind that the new land was thought to be the Far East although reached by a western route.

The letter from Ferdinand and Isabella is useful as showing the jealousy of Spain at the projected enterprise even before it had started. The same sentiment is again strongly expressed in Pedro de Ayala’s letter two years later, and, although it does not appear from the available documents that any official remonstrance was addressed to Henry VII, Spanish disapproval must, nevertheless, have had its share in causing the gradual abandonment of American enterprises in the early years of the sixteenth century.

Ayala’s letter, written after the sailing of the second expedition, is the only one of the series which contains any positive facts as to that expedition. It has an unsatisfying air of vagueness and, as regards the first voyage, is not nearly so precise as Soncino’s long account. This is partly due to the fact that the details of the matter were already known to the Spanish sovereigns, and there was thus no need to enter deeply into them. One point in the letter has been made the basis of a rather revolutionary theory as to the second expedition, namely, that John Cabot was in Seville and Lisbon during the winter of 1497–8, recruiting men for his second voyage. This theory is built upon the general statement that Cabot had sought assistance in those places. An interpretation which makes him do so in 1497–8 is hardly allowable. In the first place we know that he could get plenty of men in England, where also investors came forward readily and the greatest enthusiasm prevailed; secondly, it is not likely that he would have trusted himself in Seville at that time, having regard to the feelings of the Spanish Government on the subject; and thirdly, a winter voyage to the Peninsula was a risky undertaking if the traveller were pressed for time. In the then state of navigation he might easily be detained for weeks and months by bad weather;[54] and John Cabot could not afford to risk the postponement of his expedition for a year, with its possible abandonment, or the appointment of another to command it in his stead. On the contrary, the natural and probable interpretation of the statement is that Cabot had sought a hearing for his plans in Spain and Portugal before coming to England; and even at that, it is quite a ‘by the way’ remark and lacks corroboration. The same may be said as to the caravels annually sent out from Bristol; Ayala was not in England during the period referred to, and was probably repeating a piece of current gossip.

The few facts he relates of the 1498 voyage rest on surer ground, as having occurred under the writer’s more immediate attention. The five ships are mentioned elsewhere, and that number is thus probably correct. The ‘Friar Buil’ referred to was possibly a Spanish spy: it is singular that his name alone of all the adventurers is thought worthy of mention to the Spanish sovereigns. Unless such an obscure man was an agent of theirs, it is difficult to see what interest they could have had in hearing of him. The assertion that Cabot’s charts were falsified entirely lacks confirmation, and there is no ground for believing it. Ayala was suspicious and prejudiced, and ready to impute dishonest intentions to England. It is noticeable that in affairs quite separate from this one he took up a more hostile attitude towards Henry VII than did his superior, de Puebla. He had a great admiration for Scotland, in which country he had been ambassador, and this may have engendered a corresponding hatred of England.

The information, such as it is, afforded by the rewards to John Cabot and the loans to his associates in the second expedition is, of necessity, absolutely trustworthy. The documents in question were written for immediate business purposes, with no idea of their ever being used to elucidate the story of the discoveries.

The unfinished account of the 1498 voyage, given in the anonymous British Museum chronicle, has evidently some near relationship to that contained in the lost Fabyan manuscript copied by Hakluyt and Stowe. It is probable that Fabyan based his account on the former chronicle, adding the note on the savages from his own knowledge, but not troubling to relate the fate of the 1498 voyage. This in itself gives ground for presuming that the expedition in question returned in safety without achieving any striking results. If none of the vessels ever came back, a possibility that has been suggested, Fabyan would hardly have refrained from commenting on such a sensational occurrence. As it is, he merely records the fact that they had not returned by the end of October 1498, and there leaves the matter. Existing editions of Fabyan contain no reference to the Cabots.

The famous map of 1544, of which the only copy now known to exist is in the Bibliothèque Nationale of Paris, is generally agreed to be the work of Sebastian Cabot, or at least, based on information supplied by him. The inscriptions upon it, descriptive of various countries, are in Latin or Spanish, the majority in both. Typographical considerations indicate that it was not printed in Spain—the printer does not use the Spanish _tilde_ over the n—and Antwerp has been suggested as the most likely place of origin. The inscription given above, relating to the Cabot discovery, was translated by Hakluyt from a similar map which he saw at Westminster, and Hakluyt’s translation agrees very closely with a modern translation from the Paris map, showing that they are from one and the same source. The voyage described is obviously the first one, but the local colour as to the natives and their habits must have been supplied from later experiences, as the contemporary letters expressly assert that John Cabot saw no inhabitants on the first expedition. The date of the discovery is given on the Paris map as MCCCCXCIIII (1494), but this may be explained as a careless error for MCCCCXCVII, due to bad writing. It should be noted that this inscription is the earliest authority for the statement that land was sighted on June 24 at 5 a.m., and that the island of St. John was discovered and named on the same day. There seems to be no good reason why the statements on the map should not be believed, other than that they proceed from a tainted source. Sebastian Cabot’s reputation for veracity is certainly under a cloud, even when he is acquitted of giving false information about his explorations. In other matters he undoubtedly lied freely and frequently.[55]

The ground being now cleared by a necessary, if tedious, appraisement of values, it is possible to relate what is known of John Cabot’s voyages.

It had been owing to a mere accident that Christopher Columbus had not sailed under the English flag on his first epoch-making voyage to the west. In 1485, after vainly attempting to interest the sovereigns of Portugal and Spain in his ideas, he had dispatched his brother Bartholomew to England, to lay his plans before Henry VII. But Bartholomew Columbus had suffered disaster on his journey. After being robbed by pirates in the narrow seas, he was further delayed by sickness and poverty before being able to lay his brother’s case before the king. When he was at length successful in doing so, Henry listened with sympathy and promised assistance, but, being preoccupied with other matters, he postponed the adventure until too late. When he did finally make up his mind to take the affair in hand, it was only to hear that Christopher Columbus had already sailed from Palos in the service of Ferdinand and Isabella.

Henry had missed a great chance, partly through his own fault, and must have realized his mistake when news began to spread through Europe of the discovery of rich islands on the western route to Cathay, as all men supposed the new land to be. It was considered at the English court a thing ‘more divine than human’ to have reached the Far East by way of the west, and the anticipations of the advantages of the new discovery must have exceeded even the reality. Throughout the Middle Ages the imagination of all who were capable of thought had been stimulated by glowing accounts of the riches and wonders of the East. The experiences of Marco Polo and many another wanderer of lesser fame had been spread broadcast through Europe; such adventures lose nothing in the telling, and indeed the material civilization of Asia compared not unfavourably with that of mediaeval Christendom; hence to reach Cathay became the ambition of many a restless mind. The Venetians and the Genoese were content to trade with the Asiatic merchants who brought their goods overland to the ports of the Levant. The Portuguese navigators, excluded from the Mediterranean, pushed successively further and further down the coast of Africa in the hope of finding a way round it into the Indian Ocean. They had not yet succeeded when, in 1495, Columbus returned with his report of rich islands to the west, and it was universally believed that he had solved the problem in the simplest possible way.

To the western nations of Europe this news was more especially important, and so, when John Cabot petitioned Henry VII, three years later, for permission to make similar discoveries, he obtained a patent from that king without difficulty. Cabot was of Genoese birth, although a naturalized citizen of Venice, and he had been for some years settled at Bristol. He had taken part in the Venetian trade to the Levant, and had on one occasion travelled as far as Mecca. At that place, a busy centre of exchange for eastern goods, he questioned the merchants as to the source of the supply of spices, drugs, perfumes, rare silks, and precious stones, in which they dealt. They replied that these goods were transported by successive caravans from a vast distance, and that they themselves had never visited the countries that produced them. This suggested to Cabot a similar train of reasoning to that of Columbus: it was evident that the long land journey and the laborious transport and exchange from hand to hand must immensely add to the original cost of the produce which Europe valued so highly; great wealth was therefore in store for the man and the country which should first find a practicable sea route to the orient. Cabot, like Columbus, based his plans on the sphericity of the earth, and came to the conclusion that the shortest way to the east was by the west. It is unknown whether it was in consequence of these ideas that he came to England. It may well have been so, for it was evidently of little use to urge such plans in Venice. The Italian merchants stood to lose instead of gaining by any alteration of the trade routes, and, moreover, could be cut off from access to the Atlantic at the pleasure of the power which could block the straits of Gibraltar. Whatever his reasons, John Cabot came to Bristol, bringing his wife and family with him. In after years his son Sebastian, when it suited him to make himself out an Englishman, claimed to have been born in Bristol; but as Sebastian cannot have been born later than 1474, and John was not naturalized as a Venetian till 1476, it is hardly possible that Sebastian’s statement was true. The year 1476, therefore, is the earliest possible date for John Cabot’s arrival in Bristol, and the probability is strong that he did not settle there for several years after that.

Bristol was the largest seaport of the west of England, and, in the fifteenth century, a most important branch of its trade was with Iceland, whence the Bristol ships fetched quantities of stockfish. It is possible that traditions of early Norse voyages to ‘Vineland’ still lingered in northern regions and were picked up by the Bristol sailors. There were other legends current of lands to the west: the island of Brasil, marked on many mediaeval maps; the blissful isle of St. Brandan, actually supposed to have been visited by a shadowy Irish saint of antiquity; and the Seven Cities, said to have been founded by Spanish bishops fleeing from the fury of invading Moors when the Cross fell before the Crescent on the banks of the Guadalete. Moved either by these traditions or by the new scientific reasonings of men like Cabot, the Bristol merchants undoubtedly felt an interest in the possibilities of the unexplored Atlantic. There are rumours of their having sent out ships towards the west before 1497, but unfortunately they rest on no solid basis of proof.

Things were at this stage when, in the winter of 1495–6, Henry VII visited Bristol, and we may suppose that John Cabot took the opportunity of petitioning the king for a charter which should place the enterprise on a more regular footing. On March 5, 1496, the patent was drawn out, in the terms already described. For reasons unknown, more than a year elapsed before John Cabot started on his first recorded voyage. He set out in the early summer of 1497 in a small ship with a crew of eighteen men, mostly Englishmen of the port of Bristol. In addition to Cabot, and possibly his sons, there were among the crew two other foreigners, one a Burgundian, probably a Netherlander, and the other a Genoese. A document, generally known as the Fust MS., and now destroyed, gave the name of Cabot’s ship as the _Matthew_, and the dates of the voyage as May 2 (departure) and August 6 (return). Authorities are at variance as to the authenticity of the Fust MS. The use of the word ‘America’ in a record ostensibly written several years before that name was first invented seems to brand it as an imposture, but it may have been written up in the form of a year-to-year chronicle several years after the date contained in it, and still have embodied true information. The dates given tally approximately with what is known from other evidence.

After leaving Bristol the explorers passed the south of Ireland, and then steered northwards for an indeterminable time—‘a few days’—Cabot’s intention apparently being to reach a certain parallel of latitude, and then to follow it westwards. He knew that the further north he went, the less would be the distance to be traversed, owing to the decreasing circumference of the earth and the general lie of the land of eastern Asia, which was roughly known. When he had made sufficient way to the north, he turned westwards, and, after considerable wandering, sighted land. The ‘wandering’ may simply mean that he sailed westwards for a long time, or that he was diverted to the north or south. In any case the wording is so vague that the actual course cannot be even approximately laid down.

In the map of 1544 it is stated that the landfall was in the neighbourhood of Cape Breton, and that it was made on June 24 at 5 a.m.; also, that an island near the land was visited on the same day and named the Island of St. John. The doubts cast on the authenticity of this inscription have already been considered. On the whole, Cape Breton seems the likeliest place for the landfall, although the most learned authorities are hopelessly at variance on the point, some favouring Cape Breton, others Newfoundland, and others Labrador. With the knowledge at present available the problem must be pronounced insoluble. The date, June 24, is a little late, as it allows less than half the total duration of the voyage for the coasting and return journey; but this is not impossible if the coasting was restricted and the return was made with more favourable winds than the outward passage. We know, from an absolutely trustworthy source, that Cabot was back in London by August 10, and thus probably at Bristol some days earlier.

The land discovered had a temperate climate. In view of Sebastian Cabot’s accounts, which have sometimes been read as applying to this voyage, it is important to notice that no mention is made of ice or any extraordinary length of day, points which would certainly have been remarked by Pasqualigo or Soncino, if they had been narrated by the returning crew. An immense quantity of fish was encountered off the coast.

After planting the flags of England and Venice at the place where he first landed, John Cabot coasted for some distance. Probably the 300 leagues of Pasqualigo’s letter is a mistake, being incompatible with the total duration of the voyage. It has been suggested that ‘leagues’ should read ‘miles’. The direction of the coasting, whether northwards or southwards, is likewise not stated. Cabot saw signs of habitation, but no actual inhabitants; and doubtless he was not anxious to see any, for a crew of eighteen all told would not furnish a landing party with which he could confidently face all comers. This first voyage was merely for the purpose of reconnoitring and preparing the way for a greater enterprise. It was a pity that the reconnaissance was not more thorough, for it might have saved much disappointment afterwards. As it was, Cabot was firmly convinced that he had reached the north-eastern coast of Asia, ‘the territory of the Grand Cham’, which the Spaniards were thought to be on the track of, although they had not yet arrived there. However, provisions began to run short, and he turned his ship homewards, passing on the way two islands which he had not time to explore. He arrived at Bristol in the early days of August.

John Cabot travelled at once to London to lay his report before the king. He carried with him his charts and a globe with which to demonstrate his discoveries; and he was so far successful in convincing the prudent and parsimonious monarch of the value of the new land that the latter made him an immediate grant of £10 from the Privy Purse (ten to twelve times as much in modern money), and later allotted him a pension of £20 a year. The royal sanction, if not a more substantial aid, was promised for a much larger expedition to sail in the following year for the purpose, not only of exploring, but also of founding colonies and trading posts. Cabot and his contemporaries were still under the impression that he had found the east of Asia. He admitted that he had only touched the fringe of the golden land, but he asserted that he had only to sail with a larger and better-found expedition, with provisions to last for a year’s voyage, and to follow the coast westwards and southwards to the tropic region, to arrive at the wonderful island of Cipango,[56] the source of the world’s supply of spices and precious stones. He had a persuasive tongue, and his arguments were absolutely convincing to the minds of all who heard them, from the cool and calculating king to the hard-headed merchants of London, and still more to hot-blooded adventurers, whose ears already tingled with wondrous tales of the Spanish Indies. He was everywhere sought after and fêted. He dressed in silk and assumed the title of Admiral. In their own imagination he and all his men were princes and nobles; to the surgeon of the _Matthew_ he gave an island; to a Burgundian among his crew he gave another.

From London, Cabot went back to Bristol, there to be lionized and to make preparations for the adventure of the following year. On February 3, 1498, the king issued a second patent, made out this time to John Cabot alone, without mention of his sons, empowering him to take six ships and pursue his discoveries on much the same terms as those of the first patent. It is not evident that the State contributed anything to this fleet beyond a cheap and convenient permission to take convicts from the gaols to do the hard work of the proposed colony. Most probably Henry VII was a shareholder in his private capacity, as he seems to have been as much convinced as any of his subjects of the profits that were to accrue.

But soon the king was to receive a significant hint of trouble from a quarter whence he doubtless expected it. Even before Cabot had obtained his first patent, in 1496, Spanish jealousy had been aroused at the prospect of a voyage to the west. De Puebla had evidently reported what was going forward to his sovereigns, and in their reply to him occurs the statement that such enterprises ‘cannot be executed without prejudice to us and to the King of Portugal’. Evidently they were prepared to take their stand on the Bull of Alexander VI, which divided between Spain and Portugal all the undiscovered parts of the world, and which had been confirmed by the Treaty of Tordesillas between those two nations in 1494. Whether de Puebla communicated this protest to Henry or not we do not know. Probably he did not, as he always showed himself extremely anxious to curry favour with that monarch. But in 1498 Pedro de Ayala, another Spanish agent, was also in London, and to him the king frequently spoke of the new voyages in order to sound him as to the opinion of the Spanish court. De Ayala claimed stoutly that the lands which the English were trying to discover were already in the possession of Spain, and he gave his reasons, which, he says, the king did not like. Henry, however, could not afford to quarrel with Spain, and from this time forward he seemed to become half-hearted in his approval of western projects.

With regard to John Cabot’s second voyage, only the intentions of the explorer and the circumstances of his start from Bristol are known. The former were as follows: Sailing with several ships laden with English manufactured goods—‘coarse cloth, caps, laces, points, and such other’—he proposed to return to the land which he had discovered on the first voyage, and thence to follow the coast which, as he had observed, trended towards the south-west, until he arrived in the tropical latitudes. There he expected to find, over against the land, the rich island of Cipango—the island replenished with great commodities of the chronicles—and in it to establish, if not a colony in the true sense of the word, at least a permanent trading post. This is evidenced by the proposal to take several priests, and also the convicts, who would be useless on the voyage, but would do the hard work of planting a new settlement. The programme was naturally very distasteful to the Spaniards, since the position of Cipango, in John Cabot’s ideas, must have been in the same latitude as their own discoveries, although lying further to the west.

Everything in the contemporary letters, and also in the chronicles, points to the fact that Cabot, in common with every other thinking man in 1497–8, had no suspicion of the existence of the separate continent now called America, and that he intended to make for the tropical region of the coast of eastern Asia. Indeed, it is inconceivable that he, a much-travelled man, who had experience of tropical climates and their products, should have sailed northwards to look for spices, unless we are to assume that he knew that America was not Asia and was consequently looking for a north-west passage. That assumption a careful reading of the evidence renders untenable. This matter of the intended destination of the second voyage is the point at which the commonly received versions of the Cabot problem go astray, the accepted theory being that the second expedition was an attempt to force a passage round the north of the new continent and so into the Pacific. But it cannot be too strongly emphasized that John Cabot had not the remotest intention of sailing round the north of what he took to be Asia, since such a course, if persisted in, would have brought him, according to his charts, back to the North Sea and the British Isles!

All preparations being complete, he sailed from Bristol in the beginning of May 1498. He had with him his own ship, manned and victualled, if the chroniclers are to be believed, at the king’s private expense, and three or four smaller vessels fitted out by the merchants of London and Bristol, some of whom had also been financed from the Privy Purse. Pedro de Ayala states that the fleet numbered five in all, and also reports, but only as a rumour, that one of them put back to an Irish port in consequence of damage, sustained presumably in a storm. The ships were provisioned for a year, and Cabot expected to be home again by September. In the outcome, however, nothing had been heard of him as late as the end of October.

Here unfortunately our knowledge of John Cabot leaves the realm of sober fact, and degenerates into mere theory and speculation. History is totally silent as to the progress of this voyage, launched with such a great acclaim; as to its vicissitudes, as to the date, place, and circumstances of its ending, nothing whatever is known. It is only through the cumulative effect of side-winds, none of them absolutely conclusive, that it can be deduced that Cabot’s squadron reached the American coast, and that he himself, with part at least of his men, returned in safety.

First, as to his personal survival. This was always considered extremely doubtful until the discovery of the Bristol Customers' accounts for 1497–9, which prove beyond doubt that, until Michaelmas 1499, annual pension of £20 was still being paid. It is conceivable of course, that the pension was being drawn by an accredited agent, his wife for example, so that there is no positive proof that he was in Bristol during that year. But it may, as a minimum, be confidently asserted that he was not known to be dead, since in that case no agent could have drawn the pension without obtaining fresh official papers. Hence, either Cabot returned in safety from the 1498 voyage, or else no word had been heard of his fleet for nearly eighteen months. The balance of probability is certainly in favour of the former alternative.

One of the persons to whom loans were granted from the Privy Purse was Launcelot Thirkill, of London, ‘going towards the new island’. A later document shows this man to have been in England in 1501. Consequently, if he accompanied the fleet, as he evidently intended, some part of it must have returned in safety.

[Illustration:

THE NORTH ATLANTIC. From the map of Juan de la Cosa, 1500. The earliest map showing English discoveries. ]

A still more probable testimony to the return of Cabot’s expedition, and to its having coasted extensively on the other side of the Atlantic, is furnished by the map of the Spanish pilot, Juan de la Cosa, drawn up in the year 1500. It is a map of the world as known at the time, and includes a part of the east coast of North America, with flags marking the places visited by the English. The flags are intended to represent the English standard, and some of the names, although translated into Spanish, are such as English explorers might have given; others are unintelligible. They are as follows, reading from south-west to north-east:

Mar descubierto por Yngleses, cavo descubierto, C. de S. Jorge, lagofor, anfor, C. de S. Luzia, requilia, jusquei, S. Luzia, C. de lisarto, menistre, argair, fonte, rio longo, ilia de la trenidat, S. Nicolas, Cavo de S. Johan, agron, C. fastanatra, Cavo de Ynglaterra, S. Grigor, y verde.

The map is so unlike the real coastline that it is impossible to identify definitely any of the places mentioned. In addition, there are no lines of latitude or longitude. The most plausible interpretation is that ‘Cavo de Ynglaterra’, the most northerly point marked on the mainland, is Cape Race, and that the southernmost flag represents a point on the coast of Virginia or Carolina, possibly Cape Hatteras. However, this is mere guesswork, as is shown by the divergent views taken by equally competent authorities. The only indisputable information obtainable from the map is the fact that the English did actually coast along a large part of the North American littoral before the year 1500. It is practically certain that the map embodies the geographical knowledge gained in John Cabot’s second voyage, since the amount of coasting shown is too extensive for the first voyage, the southernmost English flag being placed more than three-quarters of the entire distance down from the Cabo de Ynglaterra to the point of Florida. The only fact which weakens the value of the map’s evidence for the 1498 voyage is the possibility that it embodies information from Sebastian Cabot’s expedition, which, as will be shown, probably took place in 1499. It is possible that la Cosa had seen the charts of the latter when he drew his map in 1500.

But the most illuminating light is thrown on the voyage of 1498 by a careful reading of the descriptions of Sebastian Cabot’s adventure given in the next chapter. These accounts indicate that Sebastian had grasped the great fact that the transatlantic land was a separate continent, altogether distinct from Asia. From whence did he derive his information? Without reasonable doubt, from his father’s voyage of 1498. It is practically certain, although definite proof is lacking, that John Cabot acted in accordance with his expressed intentions, and sailed westwards to his former landfall. Thence he turned to the south-west and followed the land towards the tropics, exploring the coast, and seeking eagerly for signs of the wealthy and civilized Asiatics whom he expected to find there. The islands of Columbus were considered as merely a half-way house on the route to Asia, and Cabot was confident that his newly-discovered coast would lead him far to the west of their position, which the king’s instructions had doubtless enjoined him to avoid. It may be imagined, then, how his heart sank when day followed day and brought no sight of oriental shipping on the sea or cities on the land; and when no inhabitants could be encountered save wandering bands of savages, who lived by the chase, and had nothing of value to exchange for the goods in his ships’ holds. The coast, too, trended more and more to the southwards, taking him in the direction of the Spanish possessions and rendering illusory the hope of finding Cipango, for which there was evidently no room between them and it. Gradually Cabot must have realized that the new land was not a part of Asia, since it corresponded with none of the known facts about that continent; and, with the realization, the purpose of his voyage was gone. To find a way to Asia by the west would necessitate the finding of a passage through this strange and desolate land, and, until that was effected, all hope of profitable trade had to be abandoned. Whether an attempt was made to discover such a passage, or whether the expedition sailed straight back to England, is unknown. In either case the result, as judged by the shareholders in the venture, was complete failure.

It is easy to understand how, after this great disappointment, involving the shattering of a lifetime’s convictions, John Cabot had no heart for further voyages, but lived quietly at Bristol on the king’s pension until death overtook him at the close of the fifteenth century.

Such is the theory of the 1498 voyage to which all the ascertained evidence points. It explains the silence of contemporary chroniclers, who did not think such a financial failure worthy of mention; it explains the cessation of the interest of the London commercial world in transatlantic ventures; and it explains also the motives of Sebastian Cabot in the voyage which has now to be considered, and the meaning of his narrations, which have long been considered to be little more than a collection of impudent falsehoods.

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Footnote 43:

An exception must be made of a short extract in Hakluyt.

Footnote 44:

_Spanish Cal._ i, p. 128.

Footnote 45:

_Venetian Cal._ i, p. 262.

Footnote 46:

Ibid., p. 260.

Footnote 47:

_Spanish Cal._ i, pp. 176–7.

Footnote 48:

_Add. MSS._, 7099, f. 41.

Footnote 49:

_R. O., Privy Seals_, Dec. 13, 13 Hen. VII, No. 40.

Footnote 50:

_R. O., Warrants for Issues_, 13 Hen. VII.

Footnote 51:

_Add. MSS._, 7099, f. 45.

Footnote 52:

_Chapter Muniments_, 12243. Printed in facsimile as _The Cabot Roll_, Bristol, 1897, edited by A. E. Hudd.

Footnote 53:

_Cotton MSS._, Vitell. A. xvi.

Footnote 54:

See Chap. I, pp. 29–30.

Footnote 55:

See Harrisse’s _John and Sebastian Cabot_ (1896) for an account of Sebastian’s intrigues with Venice, and other discreditable affairs.

Footnote 56:

Evidently Japan. 'Zipangu is an island in the eastern ocean, situated at the distance of about 1500 miles from the mainland or coast of Manji. It is of considerable size; its inhabitants have fair complexions, are well made, and are civilized in their manners.... They have gold in the greatest abundance, its sources being inexhaustible, but as the king does not allow of its being exported, few merchants visit the country, nor is it frequented by much shipping from other parts. To this circumstance we are to attribute the extraordinary richness of the sovereign’s palace, according to what we are told by those who have access to the place. The entire roof is covered by a plating of gold, in the same manner as we cover houses, or more properly churches, with lead. The ceilings of the halls are of the same precious metal; many of the apartments have small tables of pure gold, of considerable thickness; and the windows also have golden ornaments. So vast indeed are the riches of the palace, that it is impossible to convey any idea of them. In this island there are pearls also, of a pink colour, round in shape, and of great size, equal in value to, or even exceeding in value, the white pearls.' _The Travels of Marco Polo_, Everyman’s Library, pp. 323–4.

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