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Encounters in the New World
Encounters in the New World Jesuit Cartography of the Americas
Mirela Altic
The University of Chicago Press Chicago and London
The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637 The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London © 2022 by The University of Chicago All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews. For more information, contact the University of Chicago Press, 1427 E. 60th St., Chicago, IL 60637. Published 2022 Printed in the United States of America 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22
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ISBN-13: 978-0-226-79105-0 (cloth) ISBN-13: 978-0-226-79119-7 (e-book) DOI: https://doi.org/10.7208/chicago/9780226791197.001.0001 This book is published with generous support from the Barry MacLean Collection. Publication of this book has been aided by a grant from the Neil Harris Endowment Fund, which honors the innovative scholarship of Neil Harris, the Preston and Sterling Morton Professor Emeritus of History at the University of Chicago. The Fund is supported by contributions from the students, colleagues, and friends of Neil Harris. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Slukan-Altić, Mirela, author. Title: Encounters in the New World : Jesuit cartography of the Americas /Mirela Altic. Description: Chicago ; London : University of the Chicago Press, 2022. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2021021861 | ISBN 9780226791050 (Cloth : acid-free paper) | ISBN 9780226791197 (eBook) Subjects: LCSH: Cartography— America— History. | Jesuits— America— History. | America— Discovery and exploration— Maps. | America— Maps— Early works to 1800. Classification: LCC GA401.S59 2021 | DDC 526.097/09031— dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021021861 ♾ This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).
For my husband, for his love and support
Contents
List of Abbreviations Introduction 1
1
The History and Concept of Jesuit Mapmaking
1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 1.7 1.8 1.9 2
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The Organization of the Society of Jesus and Its Educational System The Society of Jesus in the Age of Encounter and Exploration 17 Cartographers of Heaven and Earth 23 The Emergence and Development of Jesuit Cartography in the Americas 29 Techniques of Jesuit Mapmaking 34 Editorial Interventions into Jesuit Maps: Originals and Their Edited Versions 40 The Iconography of Jesuit Maps 43 The Dissemination of Jesuit Maps and Their Impact on European Cartography 58 Changing the Discourse: Post-Suppression Jesuit Cartography 67
The Possessions of the Spanish Crown
75
2.1 The Viceroyalty of New Spain 79 2.1.1 The Jesuit Cartographic Endeavor in Florida
81
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2.1.2 Mexico: Missionary Cartography of the Borderlands 86 2.1.2.1 Ivan Rattkay: Cartographic Pioneer of the Tarahumara Region 89 2.1.2.2 Adam Gilg and the Art of Surveying in the Province of Sonora 93 2.1.2.3 Eusebio Francisco Kino and His Followers: Mapping the Northwestern Frontier 98 2.1.2.4 Cartographic Synthesis from the Time of the Military and Juridical Reorganization of New Spain 109 2.1.2.5 Mapmaking Attempts in Sinaloa 113 2.1.2.6 The Jesuit Cartography of Nayarit 115 2.1.2.7 Juan Nentwig and Bernhard Middendorff: Cartographers of the Pima Uprising and Its Aftermath 117 2.1.3 Baja California: Revealing a Geographical Enigma 121 2.1.3.1 Eusebio Francisco Kino and the Appearance of the First Jesuit Maps of Baja California 123 2.1.3.2 Ferdinand Konščak (Fernando Consag): Confirming the Peninsularity 126 2.2 The Viceroyalty of Peru 135 2.2.1 The Province of Peru: Mapping the Moxos Missions 141 2.2.2 The Jesuit Cartography of Chile: Between Mythology and Utilitarianism 155 2.2.3 Patagonia: Jesuits at the Southern Edge of the Spanish Empire 169 2.2.4 The Province of Paraguay and the Río de la Plata: The Cartography of Conflicts and Martyrs 178 2.2.4.1 Cartographic Reflections of the Treaty of Madrid 193 2.2.4.2 The Jesuit Cartography of the Guaraní War and Its Aftermath 197 2.2.4.3 The Post-Suppression Jesuit Cartography of Paraguay 201 2.2.5 The Province of Quito: Challenging Border Disputes along the Amazon 222 2.2.5.1 The Post-Suppression Vision of Quito: From Territorialization to Idealism 240 2.2.6 New Granada: Defense and Commerce in the Orinoco River Region 244 3
Portuguese Possessions: Brazil
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3.1 The Jesuit Mapping of Brazil: Cartography of the Edges of the Empire 264 3.1.1 Claiming the Amazon and Setting the Northern Brazilian Border with French Guiana 265 3.1.2 Mapping the Western Edge of the Empire: The Jesuit View of Minas Gerais 267 viii
Contents
3.1.3 At the Southern Edge: The Jesuit Cartography of Colônia do Sacramento, Santa Catarina, and Rio Grande do Sul 273 3.1.4 Back to the Northern Edge: The Amazon in the Aftermath of the Treaty of Madrid 280 4
New France: Searching for the Northwest Passage
289
4.1 The Early Jesuit Mapping of Huronia 293 4.2 Cartography under Iroquois Attacks: A New Discourse by Francesco Giuseppe Bressani 299 4.3 Mapping the Western Great Lakes (Huron, Michigan, and Superior) 303 4.4 Jacques Marquette and His Breakthrough to the Mississippi River 308 4.5 Pierre Raffeix and His Contribution to the Mapping of the Iroquois Country 316 4.6 The Final Decline of Jesuit Mapping in New France 319 Concluding Remarks Notes 331 Bibliography 395 Index 415
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Plates follow pages 164 and 260
Contents
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Abbreviations
AECID AGI AGNMx AGNAr AGS AHEx AHL AHN AHU AJC AMN AN ANTT ARSI ASMO BEAE BL BLB BLR BNA BNC BNE BNEE BNF BNM BNP
Agencia Española de Cooperación Internacional para el Desarrollo, Madrid Archivo General de Indias, Seville Archivo General de la Nación, Mexico City Archivo General de la Nación, Buenos Aires Archivo General de Simancas, Simancas Arquivo Histórico do Exército, Rio de Janeiro Archivo Histórico de Loyola, Azpeitia Archivo Histórico Nacional, Madrid Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, Lisbon Archives des jésuites au Canada, Montreal Archivo del Museo Naval, Madrid Archives nationales (France) Arquivo Nacional da Torre do Tombo, Lisbon Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu, Rome Archivio di Stato di Modena Biblioteca Ecuatoriana Aurelio Espinosa Pólit, Quito British Library, London Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps, La Jolla (CA) Biblioteca Nacional da Ajuda, Lisbon Biblioteca Nacional de Chile, Santiago Biblioteca Nacional de España, Madrid Biblioteca Nacional del Ecuador “Eugenio Espejo,” Quito Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris Biblioteca Nacional de México Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal, Lisbon
BPÉ BNRJ DRMC ELTE ETH GEAEM HL IAIB JCB LAC LHL LOC LUC ML MDL MOB MPIWG MREVe MREEc NL ÖNB RAH SGE SHD TNA UKHO
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Biblioteca Pública de Évora Biblioteca Nacional do Brasil, Rio de Janeiro David Rumsey Map Center, Stanford Libraries University Library and Archives of Eötvös Loránd University, Budapest Eidgenössische Technische Hochschule, Zurich Gabinete de Estudos Arqueológicos da Engenharia Militar, Lisbon Huntington Library, San Marino (CA) Ibero-Amerikanisches Institut, Prussischer Kulturbesitz, Berlin John Carter Brown Library at Brown University, Providence (RI) Library and Archives Canada Linda Hall Library of Science, Engineering & Technology, Kansas City (MO) Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. Loyola University Chicago MacLean Collection, Lake Forest (IL) Map and Data Library, Univeristy of Toronto Libraries Mapoteca Manuel Orozco y Berra, Mexico City Max-Planck-Instituts für Wissenschaftsgeschichte, Berlin Archivo General del Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, Venezuela Mapoteca Histórica del Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, Ecuador Newberry Library, Chicago Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna Real Academia de la Historia, Madrid Servicio Geográfico del Ejército, Madrid Service historique de la Défense, Département des archives définitives, Vincennes, Val-de-Marne National Archives, Kew, UK UK Hydrographic Office, Taunton
A bbr evi ations
Introduction
M
embers of the Society of Jesus, more than any other religious order of early modern Europe, valued maps and geography not only for the control of their missionary space, but also as a powerful presentation of their achievements in terms of evangelization and cultural exchange. According to Harley, the Jesuit map had a special mission, which was to represent the power of the order and the colonial state.1 It was a tool of visual persuasion accompanying the letters and relations that the Jesuits sent back to Europe. Even if patrons and superiors of the order had not traveled to the Americas, maps, as surrogates of geographical reality, made the conquest believable. Jesuit maps also served as the basis for developing strategies for future territorial expansion of the order. Moreover, Jesuit mapmaking, by helping to open up new territories to colonization and economic exploitation, became part of the wider campaign for colonial promotion. Therefore, Jesuit cartography is a testament of both territorial and the intellectual conquest. Compiled on the basis of firsthand knowledge, Jesuit maps promoted field observation and scientifically based mapmaking even before the European Enlightenment. This book deals with the analysis of maps produced by the Jesuits during their missionary work in the possessions of the Spanish, Portuguese, and French crowns in both Americas. The research traces the Jesuit contribution to mapping and mapmaking from their arrival in the New World until their suppression (in the Portuguese possessions in 1759, in the French in 1764, and in the Spanish in 1767). It further focuses on their cartographic work in the
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post-suppression period, when the Jesuits continued their work in exile, even after the promulgation of the papal brief Dominus ac Redemptor in 1773. The book analyzes the Jesuit contribution to cartography in the context of their worldwide undertakings in science and art. Although primarily based on the Jesuits’ own exploration, their mapping of the New World was not just a physical survey of unknown space. In this encounter, the Jesuits were bearers of new cultural concepts and agents of new ideas. Their ongoing presence introduced the concept of relationship with the local nations, based on the exchange of new cultural ideas, which could henceforth be woven into the fabric of indigenous societies. The Jesuits were the most important link bringing the two cultures together, and they successfully enabled transatlantic cultural exchanges between the Old and New Worlds. Accordingly, when analyzing maps, I did not focus only on the analysis of individual maps; rather, I tried primarily to establish the interrelationship between individual maps and the impact of any one map on others. I was particularly interested in the modalities of the transfer of information and in the ways the information noted on Jesuit maps affected other maps— both within and beyond Jesuit cartography. I also paid particular attention to the influence of the knowledge of local communities that was to a great extent implemented in Jesuit maps. Both sides benefited from this exchange of knowledge. Jesuit missionary work greatly impacted the transformation of local traditions, and at the same time the local nations transferred their own indigenous knowledge and experiences to 2
Introdu ction
the Jesuits. The knowledge exchange that started at the local level, between members of local communities and the Jesuit cartographers, then continued at a higher level as well— between the Jesuits and the colonial authorities. Not only did Jesuit maps influence one another, but they also had an effect on maps of colonial origin. Local colonial (and military) authorities often used Jesuit maps as the basis for their own mapmaking. Moreover, the Jesuits, who were very well acquainted with the terrain of the region, were often directly involved in cartographic campaigns aimed at creating maps for official purposes. In addition, Jesuit cartography also made a significant impact on European cartography of the early modern period. Thanks to the Jesuits’ frequent reports to their superiors in Europe, their maps were quickly assimilated into the mainstream of European cartography. Despite the obvious importance of Jesuit cartography for the mapmaking of the Americas, as well as for the history of cartography in general, there is still no synthesis that would enable an overview into cartography developed by Jesuit missionaries in the New World. To date, a number of extensive studies have been published that deal with the contribution of the Jesuits to the development of science, especially mathematics and medicine. Among them, several need to be mentioned here as having also tackled the issue of Jesuit scientific interests important for mapmaking, such as astronomical observations, geodetic measurements, and navigation. Steven Harris was one of the first to frame Jesuit science as an important topic for understanding the global history of science. His dissertation,
“Jesuit Ideology and Jesuit Science: Scientific Activity in the Society of Jesus, 1540– 1773” (University of Wisconsin at Madison, 1988), was the first synthesis of that kind that opened this topic to the wider scientific community. The international symposium “Agents of Change: The Jesuits and Encounters of the Worlds” (Loyola University, Chicago, 1992) was the first to recognize increased scholarly attention to the impact of the Society of Jesus in encounters between European and indigenous cultures in the Americas. This meeting led to the creation of a volume edited by Joseph A. Gagliano and Charles E. Ronan, Jesuit Encounters in the New World: Jesuit Chroniclers, Geographers, Educators and Missionaries in the Americas, 1549– 1767 (Rome, 1997), that examined the role of Jesuit missionaries in transforming Amerindian cultures and considered how the Jesuits promoted cultural exchange. The proceedings and results of this conference evolved into an initiative that sought to rethink Jesuit contributions to the history of the Americas, and the meeting was followed by a series of other conferences and publications. In 1997 a group of scholars convened a major international conference to discuss the world of the Jesuits, which was continued in another conference held at Boston College in 2002. These two conferences led to the compilation of volumes 1 and 2, edited by John W. O’Malley et al., entitled The Jesuits: Cultures, Sciences, and the Arts, 1540– 1773 (Toronto, 1999 and 2006), which discussed Jesuit work from a variety of perspectives. More recently, researchers made further contributions to this subject: Andrés I. Prieto’s study Missionary Scientist: Jesuit
Science in Spanish South America, 1570– 1810 (Nashville, 2011) analyzes the Jesuits’ scientific activities in the Andean region, while Miguel de Asúa discusses Jesuit science in today’s Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay in Science in the Vanished Arcadia: Knowledge of Nature in the Jesuit Missions of Paraguay and Río de la Plata (Leiden and Boston, 2014). Agustín Udías, in Jesuit Contribution to Science: A History (Springer, 2015), synthesizes a comprehensive history of the many contributions the Jesuits made to science from their founding to the present. Thomás A. S. Haddad’s contribution, Global Infra-Connections? Science and Everyday Transactions in a Jesuit EarlyModern Missionary Setting (Newcastle, 2018) is crucial for better understanding the role of science in Jesuit missions and their global missionary activities. And in 2019 a special issue of the Journal of Jesuit Studies was devoted entirely to Jesuit cartography. Although in recent decades significant light has been shed on the Jesuit contribution to the history of science, their cartographic work has remained somewhat in the shadow of their other scientific achievements. There are a fair number of works dedicated to individual Jesuit maps or Jesuit cartographers, but the broader and more diverse practices of Jesuit cartography in the Americas have proven relatively elusive. The promotion of greater awareness of the importance of the Jesuits in the mapping of the New World expectedly came from Church circles, particularly the Jesuits themselves, who, at the beginning of the twentieth century, encountered numerous Jesuit maps stored in archives and libraries in Rome, Madrid, and Lisbon, as well as Introduction
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other Jesuit centers. The exhibition organized in the gardens of the Vatican in 1925 marked a breakthrough in that, for the first time, numerous maps produced by Catholic missionaries were put on show in one of the pavilions. Recently several exhibitions have been devoted to Jesuit accomplishments in the field of cartography. The exhibition “Galleons and Globalization” (Donohue Rare Book Room, University of San Francisco, 2010), which commemorated the four hundredth anniversary of the death of Matteo Ricci, presented the Jesuit’s 1602 map of the world, further establishing Ricci as the most important Jesuit cartographer in China. In 2014, on the occasion of the two hundredth anniversary of the restoration of the Jesuit order, the Loyola University Museum of Art prepared an exhibition entitled “Crossings and Dwellings: Restored Jesuits, Women Religious, American Experience, 1814– 2014,” in which special attention was given to the nineteenth-century Jesuit mapping of America and to its most prominent representative, Pierre-Jean De Smet (1801– 1873). In 2016 an exhibition titled “China at the Center: Rare Ricci and Verbiest World Maps” at San Francisco’s Asian Art Museum once again pointed to Jesuit cartographic activities in China. The first researcher who tried to give a synthetic overview of the work of Jesuit cartographers and to evaluate their maps in the context of their contribution to the mapping of South America was Guillermo Furlong Cardiff (1889– 1974), an Argentinian Jesuit and historian. He was among the first to turn the attention of the scientific community to the important contribu-
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Introdu ction
tion of the Jesuits to the development of cartography. His book Cartografía jesuítica del Río de la Plata (Buenos Aires, 1936) was the first to draw the attention to the Jesuits as distinguished cartographers who significantly influenced the history of mapping, as well as the history of cartography. Ernest J. Burrus (1907– 1991), a Jesuit and a leading historian of northwestern New Spain, devoted a significant part of his research to Jesuit cartographers. His book La obra cartográfica de la Provincia Mexicana de la Compañía de Jesús, 1567– 1767 (Madrid, 1967) summarized Jesuit cartographic activities in New Spain, particularly in Baja California, and his Kino and the Cartography of Northwestern New Spain (Tucson, 1965) analyzed the cartographic work and influence of Eusebio Francisco Kino, the most famous of the Jesuit cartographers. Vicente D. Sierra, in his book Los jesuítas germanos en la conquista espiritual de Hispano-América (Buenos Aires, 1944), paid special attention to the cartographic contribution of the numerous Jesuits from the German-speaking countries. More recently the historian David Buisseret particularly distinguished himself in research on Spanish Jesuit cartography in his extensive article “Jesuit Cartography in Central and South America” (Rome, 1997), as well as several other important articles on indigenous cartography (1998) and Spanish colonial mapping (2007). The first map historian to draw attention to the significance of Jesuit mapping projects from a more literary perspective was John Brian Harley (1932– 1991). In his compact but extremely influential work
The Map as Mission: Jesuit Cartography as an Art of Persuasion, Harley laid the foundation for further study of Jesuit cartography in the context of colonial power, ideology, and control of missionary space. By scrutinizing the maps’ symbolism rather than their accuracy, he drew attention to Jesuit mapping as a specific social construct. Based on Harley’s canon, a new generation of critical studies that combine epistemology with historical map experience appeared in the works of such scholars as Rodrigo Moreno Jeria, Luis I. de Lasa, María Teresa Luiz, Catherine Burdick, Camila Loureiro Dias, Margaret Ewalt, Santa Arias, and Eileen Willingham. One of the first researches on Jesuit cartographers of the Portuguese possessions in America was carried out by the Brazilian Jesuit historian Serafim Leite (1890– 1969). He dealt in particular with the work of the eminent Jesuit mapmaker Diogo Soares, which he summed up in his Diogo Soares, S.I.: Matemático, astrónomo e geógrafo de Sua Majestade no Estado do Brasil (1684– 1748) (Lisbon, 1947). His work has been continued by a whole array of historians of cartography, including Jorge Pimentel Cintra, Júnia Ferreira Furtado, Friedrich Ewald Renger, Antônio Gilberto Costa, Artur Henrique Barcelos, Valquiria Ferreira da Silva, and André Ferrand de Almeida. The last-named published an extensive study on the Portuguese colonial mapping project of Brazil assigned to Jesuit royal mathematicians, A formação do espaço brasileiro e o projecto do Novo Atlas da América Portuguesa (1713– 1748) (Lisbon, 2001), which is an invaluable reference to Jesuit cartography in
Portuguese America. Artur Henrique Barcelos published O Mergulho no Seculum: Exploração, conquista e organização espacial jesuítica na América espanhola colonial (Porto Alegre, 2013), a synthesis of his research on the Jesuit mapping of the Spanish possessions stemming from his doctoral dissertation. The cartographic achievements of central European Jesuits in individual provinces in South America (Spanish and Portuguese) have been dealt with to some extent in the series Jesuiten aus Zentraleuropa in Portugiesisch- und Spanisch-Amerika (Münster, 2005– ). On the area of New France, the first comprehensive review of Jesuit contributions to the mapping of that part of North America is given in the dissertation of Nellis M. Crouse, “Contributions of the Canadian Jesuits to the Geographical Knowledge of New France, 1632– 1675” (Cornell University, 1924). Jean Delanglez, the renowned historian of the Society of Jesus, has made a significant contribution to the field of exploration and mapping of New France and the Mississippi Valley (1935, 1943, 1945, and 1948). During the second half of the twentieth century, the Canadian scholar Conrad E. Heidenreich particularly distinguished himself by publishing numerous works detailing his research on the Jesuit mapping of New France (1971, 1976, 1978, 1980, 1988, 2005, and 2007), becoming one of the most prominent experts in Jesuit cartography of Canada. More recently, David Buisseret wrote several important works on French Jesuit mapping, a catalog entitled Mapping the French Empire (Chicago, 1991), and several articles on Great Lakes (2017 and 2019)
Introduction
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and the Mississippi (2011) coauthored with Carl Kupfer. A more comprehensive and deeper analysis of Jesuit maps that would offer a synthetic insight into the characteristics and development of Jesuit cartography in the New World has been particularly difficult because of the wide dispersal of Jesuit maps across numerous archives, libraries, and museums around the world. One of the most important among them is certainly the Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu (Archive of the Society of Jesus in Rome), a central archival institution of the Jesuit order. It contains a catalog of the Jesuits who worked as missionaries in the New World, as well as of their numerous written reports, often supplemented with their autograph maps. Numerous maps are held in Madrid, Lisbon, and Paris, the centers of the Spanish, Portuguese and French crowns. As far as the Spanish possessions are concerned, most of the Jesuit reports ended up in the Casa de Contratación in Seville, a government agency of the Spanish Empire in charge of all Spanish exploration and colonization, as well as of its mapmaking enterprise. Today, these documents can be seen in the Archivo General de Indias (Seville) and in the Archivo General de Simancas, the official archive of the crown of Castile. In addition, a significant number of Jesuit cartographic sources are stored in three other institutions in Madrid: the Biblioteca Nacional de España (National Library of Spain), the Archivo del Museo Naval (Archive of the Naval Museum), and the Real Academia de la Historia (Royal Academy of History). The Brazilian Jesuits’ reports are mostly held by the Biblioteca 6
Introdu ction
Nacional de Portugal (National Library in Lisbon) and the Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino (Overseas Historical Archive). Many manuscript originals of Jesuit maps are held in Paris by the Bibliothèque nationale. Not only did the Jesuit maps of New France arrive at this institution, but so did numerous maps from the possessions of the Spanish crown, especially after 1700, when Spain was directly linked to France through the House of Bourbon. A particularly important assemblage of Jesuit maps at the National Library of France is found in the collection of the renowned cartographer Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville, who relied largely upon Jesuit efforts when producing his own maps of the New World. A significant number of manuscript originals remain in the colonial administrative centers in the Americas, such as Mexico City, Quito, Bogotá, Caracas, Lima, Buenos Aires, Santiago de Chile, and Rio de Janeiro, where they are kept to this day. Jesuit maps are also preserved in the rich archives of many Jesuit universities in Europe and in the Americas. I particularly point out the archival holdings at Loyola University in Chicago. Rich archival materials are also held by libraries and universities that specialize in the colonial history of the Americas, such as the John Carter Brown Library at Brown University and the Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley, as well as private libraries, including the Newberry Library (Chicago), the MacLean Collection (Lake Forest), and the Huntington Library (San Marino), which also have in their collections a significant number of printed and manuscript Jesuit maps.
This book is an attempt to compare the Jesuit maps of Spanish, French, and Portuguese provenances, using the holdings from all the libraries and archives mentioned above. By carrying out a comparative analysis of these materials, I wanted to find out what Jesuit cartography was, in which
contexts it developed, what its most salient characteristics were, and what impact it had on the development of the history of cartography in general. Interpretations of Jesuit maps of the Americas are given from both macro- and microhistorical perspectives.
Introduction
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1 The History and Concept of Jesuit Mapmaking 1.1 The Organization of the Society of Jesus and Its Educational System
I
gnatius Loyola (1491– 1556) was a Spanish Basque priest and theologian who founded the religious order called the Society of Jesus and became its first Superior General. The personal history of the founder, as well as the general historical context prevailing at the time of the order was founded, largely determined the structure and the activity of the Society of Jesus in the centuries to come. Born Iñigo López de Oñaz y Loyola, he started his career by joining the army of the Kingdom of Castile at the age of seventeen. His military career, which ended when he was seriously wounded in battle while defending the Spanish city of Pamplona against the French in 1521, strongly influenced his later activity as a superior. In particular, the strict military hierarchy and discipline that he experienced while serving in the army had a powerful impact on the way in which the future Superior General would set up the Jesuit order. After a pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 1523, he studied Latin and theology at the Universities of Alcalá (1526) and Salamanca (1527). He then moved to Paris to study at the Collège de Montaigu (1528), where he remained for over seven years.1 While in Paris, Ignatius witnessed the expansion of Protestantism as well as the Counter-Reformation, two movements that contributed to the permanent transformation of Europe’s religious and political landscape and had strong repercussions on Jesuit activities. In 1534 Ignatius gathered around him the six key companions with whom he founded the Society of Jesus in 1539. They created a centralized organiza9
tion for the order and stressed absolute obedience to the pope and to superiors in the church hierarchy. The Society was approved in 1540 by Pope Paul III, and Ignatius was chosen as its first Superior General. When the Society was founded, the Age of Encounter and Exploration was already in full swing. The Society of Jesus was preceded by other religious orders— Franciscans, Dominicans, Carmelites, Recollects, and Augustinians— in the rapid territorial expansion of European empires into the New World.2 Even though these religious orders predated the Jesuits, the Society of Jesus soon became the most influential order in both worlds, the Old and the New. Up until the eighteenth century, the Society amassed a huge fortune and became immensely influential owing to the number and spread of its missions, their stability and economic self-sufficiency, the close links between the Jesuits and the Creole population whom they educated, the Society’s tremendous material wealth (a significant part of its estates had been bequeaths from wealthy Creoles), and the authority of the educational system it established, which was exquisite in all areas of science. That also lent to their prominence as explorers and cartographers, activities in which the Jesuits soon outstripped all the rest in extent and quality. One of the most prominent features of the Society of Jesus was its missionaries’ mobility. In order to maintain discipline and efficiency in very remote areas and with members that traveled frequently, the Jesuits had to have an extremely centralized, almost military organizational structure. The order was governed by a Superior General, elected by a general congregation. 10
The Superior General was the only person appointed by election. A province consisted of cities, as urban and educational centers of the Jesuit structure, and missions, as their provincial outposts. Several provinces constituted an administrative territory known as an assistancy (the name comes from the fact that each fell under the competence of one of the Jesuit general’s assistants), which corresponded approximately to the major nations or linguistic divisions in Europe: Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, French, and German.3 Assistancies and provinces were the main intermediaries between the heads of the order and the lower instances, such as cities and missions. Heads of individual assistancies and provinces were appointed from above rather than being elected locally, which created a strict hierarchical pyramid. The Jesuit organizational structure is clearly laid out in the so-called Ignatian Tree, published by Athanasius Kircher (fig. 1).4 The main branches of the tree correspond to the assistancies (their spatial sequence reflects more or less the chronological order of their establishment), while smaller limbs representing the provinces terminate in leaves bearing the names of towns in which Jesuit colleges were located. Ignatius himself is shown kneeling at the base of the tree and holding in his hands the Jesuit Constitutions. In that sense, the Ignatian Tree captured nicely the themes of unity so crucial for the governance of a geographically dispersed religious order.5 The fact that missionaries came to America from a number of different countries proved to be extremely important in influencing Jesuit activities in missions as well as their relationships and status in
The Hi story a n d Conce p t of J e sui t M a pm a king
F igur e 1. The Ignatian Tree, as represented in Athanasius Kircher’s Ars magna lucis et umbrae (Rome, 1646). (Eidgenössische Technische Hochschule, Zurich)
the New World. Their ethnic diversity included not only educational and cultural differences but also different approaches to certain social and political issues, especially those related to the enslavement of the native population (this difference was especially visible between missionaries of European descent and those of Creole descent). For that reason, Spain normally exerted strict control of the entry not only of foreigners but also of Spaniards into all its overseas possessions. Thanks to some very complex agreements between Castile and Aragon, the New World was agreed to belong solely to Castile. Immigration to overseas countries was thus allowed only for the subjects of Castile and not for the subjects of other crowns— which is why many nonSpanish Jesuits entered the Americas under false names. The same concern about missionaries of foreign origin existed in the Portuguese realm. The number of nonPortuguese missionaries, especially those in high positions, has been the source of much controversy and tension in Brazil.6 As an instrument of political precaution, all the colonial powers as well as the Jesuits themselves took special care to balance the number of foreign missionaries against domestic ones.7 Yet, although their different backgrounds created tensions as well as a certain suspicion of the crown, the missionaries’ multinationalism contributed to a better understanding of native cultures and facilitated the creation of a multicultural colonial society. According to the Constitutions, all provinces had to maintain regular correspondence with the headquarters in Rome and, ideally, between themselves as well.8 It was 12
from that obligation that so many Jesuit reports (known as relations) were produced; these were, in addition to their personal correspondence, the most important source of information about their activities in the field, including their explorations and mapping. In this regard, the Jesuits’ travels and field tasks were highly regulated as well.9 The Jesuits were instructed to record all local events and the characteristics of every indigenous culture with which they came into contact. This practice resulted in a robust textual production, composed of diverse documentary species— letters, reports, diaries, instructions, minutes, chronicles, natural histories, and so on. Not only was the production of texts a constant beginning with the early years of the order, but so were their circulation, both within the Society and to a wider audience that had access to part of it through publications. Thus, although dispersed, the Jesuits were not isolated. Official and private correspondence kept them in touch. Furthermore, their narratives consisted not only of text, but also of images. The abundance of images produced by the Jesuits, among which the maps had special meaning and value, distinguishes the order from their evangelizing counterparts. Their efforts led to the creation of many accounts accompanied by cartographic presentations that were based upon their original field observations and surveys. According to the map historian Júnia Ferreira Furtado, the reports were required to follow certain patterns of form and content to be considered reliable. The emphasis on reliability coincided with the Enlightenment’s scientific agenda of hypothesis and experimentation: the re-
The Hi story a n d Conce p t of J e sui t M a pm a king
peated gathering of data provided scientific reliability and accuracy.10 Each missionary had to send a report to his provincial, sometimes weekly but more often monthly, and the provincial would then put together four-month reports (litterae quadrimestres). At the end of the sixteenth century, these were pared down to annual reports known as litterae annuae. The gathering and redaction of the reports written by provincials were among the chief duties of the secretary to the general. All letters and reports were reviewed and edited, and only after these documents had passed a strict procedure would they be prepared to be printed for the general public in annual reports.11 Correspondence between the Jesuits was also of particularly great importance for the dissemination of knowledge. Jesuit explorers often shared the experiences and results of their explorations. Several examples were known where personal correspondence led to the development or continuation of an exploration that would otherwise have been left unfinished or forgotten.12 Another central feature of the order was their academic excellence, both in science and in the humanities. Thanks to their well-organized colleges and seminaries, the Jesuits were among the best-educated people of their time, and many of them became tutors, confessors, and counselors to countless prominent figures and rulers. The most important decision in that respect was in 1560, when Diego Laínez (1512– 1565), Ignatius’s successor, ordered that all Jesuits had to teach. Laínez’s decree determined the careers of almost all future Jesuits as teachers. The goal of Jesuit teaching went beyond saving souls: Jesuit schools had the
secular purpose of improving civil society by educating boys to earn a living and to fill leadership positions. Moreover, the Jesuits soon recognized the potential of their education to serve and influence others, primarily the sons of the nobility. Their boarding schools for youths of noble birth, and a limited number of schools for boys from the citizen class, became numerous and extremely important in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Yet, in practice, the vast majority of their students did not come from noble families. The existing data from the Jesuit school in Munich, one of the very few schools for which matriculation lists have survived, testify that between 1601 and 1776 only 4.9 percent of the students came from noble families, while another 11.9 percent came from families of civic office holders and no less than 83.2 percent of the students came from the rest of society.13 Jesuits’ status as the most prestigious educators of all social strata, including the nobility, explains their centuries-long influence on modern society. As soon as the first Jesuit school was founded in Messina in 1548, many others appeared across Europe. The first major Jesuit school was established in Rome in 1551 (Collegio Romano), which in 1556 was elevated to a university (studium generale). By the time of Ignatius’s death in 1556, the Jesuits were operating a network of forty-six colleges on three continents.14 They established an educational presence at every level— at universities and in seminaries, missions, and schools affiliated with the Society.15 Some of the most prominent Jesuit educational institutions in Europe were established in Italy (Rome, Messina, Macerata, Parma, Mantua, Palermo, Naples, and
The Organization of the Society of Jesus and Its Educational System
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Bologna), France (Paris, La Fléche. Lyon, Billom, Poitiers, Dijon, Bordeaux, Reims, and Rouen), Spain (Alcalà, Salamanca, Seville, Toledo, Valladolid, and Gandía), German-speaking countries (Vienna, Innsbruck, Ingolstadt, Augsburg, Dillingen, Paderborn, Molsheim, Osnabrück, Bamberg, Munich, Cologne, Würzburg, Heidelberg, Trier, and Mainz), Portugal (Lisbon, Coimbra, Évora, Porto, Braga, and Bragança), and the Low Countries (Bruges, Antwerp, Liège, Leuven, and Douai). Shortly after arriving in the New World, the Jesuits began founding their own colleges and universities there as well. The creation of educational centers in the main Spanish, Portuguese, and French cities in the Americas was instrumental to the establishment of the Society of Jesus on the continents. To meet the educational needs of the elite and to prepare future members of the order for their service, many Jesuit colleges soon developed into universities.16 The principles of their education in Europe and America had common foundations. The prevailing view so far has been that the largest number of Jesuit cartographers came from the lands of the German assistancy, that is, from the German-speaking area. Indeed, a large number of Jesuit cartographers working in the Americas were educated in Germany and the lands of the Habsburg monarchy (Eusebio Kino, Ivan Rattkay, Samuel Fritz, Bernhard Havestadt, Tadeáš Xaver Enis, and Martin Dobrizhoffer, among others). However, almost the same number of Jesuit cartographers came from Spain (such as José Cardiel, José Quiroga, José Gumilla, Bernardo Rotella, and José Sánchez Labrador), Italy (Antonio Ma14
choni, Domenico Capacci, Giuseppe Bressani, and Filippo Salvatore Gilii), Portugal (Diogo Soares), and several other countries, including Belgium and France ( Jean Magnin, Jérôme Lalemant, Jean de Brébeuf, Jacques Marquette, Claude-Jean Allouez, and Pierre Raffeix, to name a few). Also, it should be emphasized that not only did European Jesuit colleges serve as nurseries for Jesuit explorers, but a significant number of Jesuit cartographers were educated in Jesuit colleges in the Americas, such as Juan Francisco Dávila, Juan de Velasco, Alonso de Ovalle, Juan Ignacio Molina, and Joaquín Camaño y Bazán or José Palomino. The basic document of their educational system, which came to be known as the Ratio Studiorum, promulgated in 1599, defined the main areas of teaching and teaching methods, including among them geography and astronomy (although at first only as additional content in the teaching of mathematics).17 Although the text of the Ratio Studiorum changed little in succeeding centuries, it is known that the original scope and theoretical approaches of Jesuit teaching expanded significantly, particularly their approach to the natural sciences. In the sixteenth century, geography was considered a part of cosmography— description of the universe— and its scope was to describe it and inscribe it on the terrestrial globe. Two traditions from ancient Greece were applied in early Jesuit colleges, one descriptive and indebted to Strabo, the other mathematical and derived from Ptolemy. While descriptive geography was taught as part of natural philosophy together with the commentaries of Aristotle and treaties on the heavens and meteors, mathematical geog-
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raphy belonged to the field of mathematics and involved the application of spherical geometry to the Earth, its projection onto a plane, and the determination of geographical latitude and longitude.18 At first heavily based upon Aristotelian philosophy and Ptolemaic astronomy, Jesuit geography gradually developed into an experimental science that used mathematical techniques.19 Christopher Clavius’s Christophori Clauii Bambergensis Ex Societate Iesu in Sphaeram Ioannis De Sacro Bosco Commentarius (Rome, 1581), one of the earliest textbooks for the teaching of mathematics and astronomy in Jesuit schools, presents geography in chapters II and III.20 Another Jesuit, Giovanni Battista Riccioli, published an extensive work on geography entitled Geographiae et hydrographiae (Bologna, 1661). Following the tradition of mathematical geography, Riccioli focuses on the problem of determining latitude and longitude, attaching to his work a list of 2,800 locations with their coordinates. Geography as an academic discipline underwent especially important developments in Jesuit colleges in France, where humanism, natural philosophy, and mathematics were combined. In his three-volume work Parallela geographiae veteris et novae (Paris, 1648– 49), Philippe Briet, a professor at the colleges in Paris and La Fléche, included extensive descriptions of European countries, accompanied by numerous maps. Georges Fournier, also a professor at La Fléche, wrote Hydrographiae (Paris, 1643) which is considered the first book on maritime geography. His colleague Jean François wrote La science de la geographie (Rennes, 1652), which was the first text to ignore the traditional descrip-
tive approach and to define geography, on the basis of physical and mathematical principles, as a science of places.21 A change in the pronounced orientation of Jesuit education toward the natural sciences corresponded with changes in science in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, brought about by the advent of the Enlightenment. Around the middle of the eighteenth century, new concerns and ideas, driven by philosophers such as Descartes, Leibnitz, Malebranche, Gassendi, Locke, and others, changed the direction of these studies. A strictly scientific-empirical and experimental method was adopted, and many of the opinions of the ancient naturalist philosophers were discarded.22 Thus, for example, in German courses in the eighteenth century, not only geography was taught, but also architecture, engineering, hydrography, agriculture, and technical drawing.23 In the French provinces, history and geography were taught in almost all colleges, with special attention to the European discovery of the Americas and the Spanish, French, and Portuguese explorations of the New World.24 The status of geography as a prestigious science in the early eighteenth century was a very common theme on the covers and title pages of atlases and geographies. The title page of the well-known Jesuit Heinrich Scherer’s Geographia Artificialis (Munich, 1703) excellently thematizes how other sciences were invoked to support geography (plate 1).25 The allegorical figures surrounding the globe show a hierarchy of sciences: Topography, History, Geometry, Astronomy, Arithmetic, and Cartography all support Geography, positioned at the top of the pyramid.
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The changing status of geography in Jesuit education is quite well presented in an engraving from 1757 (fig. 2). It was published in the Acto académico of the Jesuit College of Cordelles in Barcelona, which
illustrated the curriculum of that college. The eight fields of study include not only religion, political studies, heraldry, swordfighting, languages, and music and dancing, but also geography and astronomy, as
Figur e 2. Acto académico of the Jesuit College of Cordelles in Barcelona, showing their fields of study in 1757, among which geography with astronomy and cosmography took a prominent place. (Loyola University Chicago Archives & Special Collections)
16
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well as cosmography.26 The use of maps and globes in teaching is confirmed by several other records from Jesuit colleges, particularly Spanish ones, which, in their teaching, emphasized and elaborated on the application of mathematics to surveying, thus introducing the basics of geodesy into Jesuit education.27 Their knowledge of geography and astronomy, as well as their knowledge of maps, enabled some Jesuits to develop into very prominent cartographers. On the other hand, an increasing number of Jesuit reports from the New World allowed them to quickly include their new insights in their students’ instruction. The Jesuits thus significantly influenced not only the history of the exploration of the Americas, but also the development of knowledge about it and the incorporation of that knowledge into European education and science. 1.2 The Society of Jesus in the Age of Encounter and Exploration
The Society, which from the very beginning had developed educational, cultural, and scientific activities, immediately engaged in missionary work as well. It was their missionary activity that would take them to the New World, where they would make a significant contribution to exploring and mapping as well as to the exchange of knowledge between Europeans and Amerindians. The founding of the Society of Jesus that coincided with the Age of Encounter made the exploration and mapping of the New World, to a large degree, the Jesuits’ missionary endeavor. European overseas exploration that led to the rise of European colonial empires and mercantilism enabled
them to spread their influence beyond Europe. The interest of the Jesuits in traveling and exploring new lands was prompted by their fourth vow: to spread Catholicism through their missionary work. In this regard they followed the formula outlined in 1538 by Ignatius Loyola: “Whatever the present Roman Pontiff and others to come will wish to command us with regard to the progress of souls and the propagation of the faith, or wherever he may be pleased to send us to any regions whatsoever, we will obey at once, without subterfuge or excuse, as far as in us lies. We pledge to do this whether he sends us among the Turks or to other infidels, even to the land they call India, or to any heretics or schismatics, or to any of the faithful.”28 Founded during the Counter-Reformation, the Jesuit order responded with their commitment to conversion to the Catholic faith and to the expansion of Catholicism, wherever the faithful might be.29 That particular vow was skillfully used by European imperial politics, so that the Jesuits, by spreading the gospel among the indigenous peoples of the New World and the maps they were to produce, would also become a powerful tool for establishing and maintaining the colonial authority of the European imperial powers. The founding and maintenance of Jesuit missions in remote parts of the New World were often the only visible sign of European presence and colonial belonging. Just as the European colonial powers were expanding their possessions to the Americas, so was the scope of activities of the Jesuits expanding into new lands. It was the Jesuits, with the strong support of European rulers, particularly those of Portugal, Spain, and
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France, who played a key role in the territorial expansion of these empires, establishing their authority, especially in the hardto-reach interiors of the conquered lands. Established as part of the colonial drive of Portugal, Spain, and France, missions played an integral part in the formation of Brazil, the Viceroyalties of New Spain, New Granada and Peru, and New France. Thus, almost from the start of the conquest of the New World, European rulers supported sending the Jesuits to those countries. In the broader context, Jesuits were important tools of modernity in general, whose consolidation in the New World coincided with the rise of the Society of Jesus. The fact that they were active in so many fields and directions confirms that Jesuits were the crucial link to the economic, social, and political transformations that took place in the early modern era. While the early years of the Society were devoted to laying its foundations in Europe through its network of colleges and its gradual connection to power circles, the years to come were marked by the order’s globalization. Jesuits’ commitment to expanding the order is best reflected in the publication Imago primi saeculi Societatis Iesu, by Johannes Bollandus (Antwerp, 1640), which they prepared to celebrate the Society’s hundredth anniversary. The second part of this work begins with a large illustration accompanied by the motto “Unus non sufficit orbis” (One world is not enough; fig. 3). The illustration shows an angel standing between two hemispheres; on one side are the Americas and the Pacific Ocean, and on the other Europe, Africa, Asia, and the Indian Ocean. The angel holds a bow in one hand and an arrow in the 18
other, alluding to the missionization of the Indies.30 They also allude to the fact that the Old World is no longer enough— it is necessary to go to the New Worlds, specifically to America and Asia, pictured in the hemispheres. This particular emblem, placed in the part of the book that deals with the expansion and growth of the Society of Jesus, makes a clear statement of how the Society of Jesus saw its role in the world in the time of European expansion and colonialism— a world enlarged through Jesuit activities. The first Jesuit missionaries appeared outside Europe— in Asia and Africa— just after the order was founded. Portuguese Jesuits came to Goa as early as 1542; to Congo in 1547; to Morocco, Ceylon, and the Spice Islands in 1548; to Japan in 1549; and to China in 1552. Jesuits from Portugal arrived in Brazil as early as 1549— the first Jesuits in the Americas. In 1566 the Spaniards were given permission to go to the New World with the mission of spreading Christianity. Spanish Jesuits first came to Florida in 1566 and then extended their activities to New Granada (1567), Peru (1568), Mexico (1572), Chile (1583), Paraguay (1585), and Quito (1586). The last to arrive in the Americas were the French Jesuits, who first came to New France in 1609. Thanks to European expansion and with the strong support of colonial politics, just a few decades after its founding the Society became a global power, present in all corners of the earth. Yet, despite the almost lightning-fast rise of the Jesuits throughout the world during the sixteenth century, at the beginning of the seventeenth century the reality of the Society of Jesus began to change. And it changed in favor of the Americas. In the Far East,
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Figur e 3. Emblematic illustration from Imago primi saeculi Societatis Iesu (Antwerp, 1640) with the Jesuit motto “One world is not enough.” (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
particularly in Japan, the missions failed. In 1639 the Jesuits dramatically ended their presence in Japan amid profound changes in local politics. Although the situation in China was optimistic, numerous internal disputes between French and Portuguese Jesuits generated serious problems. In Ethiopia, after 1632 the Jesuits were no longer allowed to evangelize, having been severely repressed by the local authorities.31 Of all the countries in which Jesuits established their activities, the Americas appeared to promise the best chance of success. This is precisely why, from the seventeenth century onward, the greatest efforts were made in the Jesuit expansion— the Spanish, Portuguese, and French undertakings— to the New World. The Jesuits’ rapid expansion in Americas owes much to an organizational struc-
ture that effectively combined a spatially distributed network, formed as overseas missions, with multiple nodal points, represented by Jesuit colleges and universities. The circulation of people and narratives between European intellectual centers and the peripheries of Jesuit overseas missions enabled the Society to construct a kind of unique institutional frame in the production and dissemination of knowledge.32 At first the Jesuits went to urban areas. Eventually, however, a certain number of Jesuits were sent into the interior to establish missions among the indigenous peoples of the region. For example, in 1755 a total of 624 Jesuits worked in the Mexican provinces, while only 96 of them (15.5 percent) served in the missions.33 This means that among the members of the Society of Jesus in the Americas, Jesuit missionaries,
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who were in a position to conduct field observations, constituted an extremely small group of prominent individuals. It was the latter group of Jesuits from which came the individuals who established themselves as outstanding cartographers. The Jesuits not only witnessed European geographical discoveries and exploration, but were also important agents of these activities. Having arrived in the provinces, the Jesuits started the geographical exploration of a series of natural phenomena that significantly contributed to the history of exploration. Francis Xavier’s Letter from India, first published in 1545, was the first writings from the East ever to be printed in Europe, while José de Acosta’s description of Peru and Mexico (Seville, 1590) represented one of the earliest printed accounts of the Americas.34 Acosta’s observations and discussions of natural phenomena gave him the well-deserved title of one of the “Founders of Physical Geography,” as he was described by Alexander von Humboldt. As great travelers and field observers, already in the first centuries of their existence the Jesuits published more than eight hundred titles on the geography and natural history of the New World. In the Province of Paraguay alone, between 1585 and 1767 the Jesuits organized and carried out twenty-five expeditions, exploring a much wider area than that covered by their missions or provinces. So it was the Jesuits who, reporting on the newly discovered lands, introduced previously unknown cultures to Europe. As early as 1547, Ignatius was urging missionaries in India to describe everything
20
they saw and report on it to the Roman authorities. Soon the Jesuits were sending dozens of narratives crammed with geographical information on remote regions; Steven Harris called these a “geography of Jesuit knowledge,” a systematic account of the natural world. The narratives were sent to Europe along with hundreds of objects, such as plants, rocks, and native artifacts, enabling Athanasius Kircher to equip his museum of natural curiosities, assembled from the 1630s to the 1650s. Not only did the Jesuits report; they were also active in exploration, thus directly contributing to the Age of Encounter and Exploration. I will mention only a few of the most remarkable examples. In 1573– 74 José de Acosta traveled from Lima across a great part of southern Peru to Cuzco. Then he crossed the high plateau to Lake Titicaca and arrived in La Paz, whence he continued south to the region of the Pilcomayo River in southern Bolivia. He was one of the first Europeans to cross the Andes, and his geographical description of the regions he traveled, published in Historia natural y moral de las Indias (Seville, 1590), testifies to his important contribution to the history of exploration of that part of the world. When the Portuguese Captain Pedro Teixeira led the expedition to the Amazon River (1537– 39) to claim it in the name of the king of Portugal, he was accompanied by the Spanish Jesuit Cristóbal Diatristán de Acuña, who carried out the first scientific measurements and exploration of the Amazon River. It was Acuña’s diary that enabled the appearance of the first map of the Amazon region, which was compiled by
The History a n d Conce p t of J e sui t M a pm a king
Blaise François comte de Pagan and titled Magni Amazoni Fluvii (Paris, 1655).35 Father Samuel Fritz’s journey down the Amazon River and back in 1689– 91 made possible the first highly detailed exploration and mapping of the vast equatorial area from Quito in the west to the mouth of the Amazon in the east. His map of the Amazon, completed in 1691, would serve as the main source of geographical knowledge of the region until the mid-eighteenth century. The Jesuits also played a crucial role in the exploration of the source of the Paraguay River, which continued to be debated for centuries. Back in the early eighteenth century, it was believed that the source of that mighty river was located in the mythical Lake Xarayes (Xareyes, Xaraes) in today’s Pantanal. In 1703, in order to discover the riverhead, the Jesuits Bartolomé Jiménez, José de Acre, Juan Bautista Zea, Francisco Hervás, Johann Neumann, and Silvestre González navigated through Xarayes Lake and concluded that it was not the source of the river but the result of its seasonal floods.36 A connection between the Orinoco and Amazon Rivers was yet another question that occupied the minds of explorers and scientists for a very long time. In 1744, while ascending the Orinoco River, the Jesuit priest Manuel Román discovered a natural canal (bifurcation) between it and the Río Negro. On his journey he met some Portuguese slave traders from the settlements on the Río Negro. He accompanied them on their return, by way of the Casiquiare canal, and afterward retraced his route to the Orinoco. Seven months later Charles Marie de La Condamine was able
to give to the Académie Française an account of Father Román’s voyage and thus confirm the existence of this waterway, first reported by Father Acuña in 1639. The Croatian Jesuit Ferdinand Konščak was chosen by the Spanish court to provide the final proof of whether Baja California was an island or a peninsula. His expedition, undertaken in 1746, brought the final verdict: Baja California was not an island; Konščak had explored it and mapped its connection with the mainland. With regard to the Jesuit contribution to the exploration of New France, most of the crucial explorations of the Great Lakes, and especially of the Mississippi River, were conducted by the Jesuits. Jacques Marquette, who first descended the Mississippi in 1673, proved that it flowed into the Gulf of Mexico, and not into the Pacific Ocean, concluding the centuries-long quest for the Northwest Passage to China. Besides their contribution to the discoveries and exploration through research in the field of geography, the Jesuits were also acknowledged for their exploration of the human history of the Americas. Throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the Society of Jesus led the vast majority of research on pre-Columbian history (in the sixteenth century that field had been dominated by the Dominicans and Franciscans). The purpose of that research was to convey to the colonial authorities knowledge about the antiquity of the territory they ruled. This new momentum started with the pioneering archaeological and ethnographic explorations of the New Spain– based writer Carlos de Sigüenza y Góngora (1645– 1700), who, from 1660 to
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1668, was a member of the Society of Jesus. His studies of Aztec culture were in fact a pioneering attempt to create an American cultural identity that was later continued in the work of Juan de Velasco, who studied the civilization of the Incas. During their stay in the Americas, as well as during their post-suppression exile, the Jesuits wrote a number of narratives of human history based upon cultural syncretism. The most celebrated text in line with such a cultural policy was written by another Creole Jesuit, Francisco Javier Clavijero (1731– 1787). His Storia antica del Messico (Cesena, 1780– 81), describing pre-Columbian Mexico and its subsequent conquering and colonization by Spain, established a new value system, introducing new identities into the conversation about civilization and culture. Clavijero was to call New Spain Mexico, its indigenous peoples Mexicans (rather than indios), and the Creole people to whom he belonged his compatriots. Even from this brief overview it is clear that without the Jesuits the course of Age of Encounter and Exploration of the Americas would have had different outcomes. Systematic Jesuit explorations that were carried out individually or in the form of expeditions, either for the general dissemination of knowledge or for the purpose of informing the crown about the potentials of its possessions, led to the development of firsthand knowledge of these newly acquired lands and their native populations. Even where they were not initiators of journeys, the Jesuits, as educated people, proficient in the natural sciences and in the knowledge of local languages and customs, were preferred members of numerous sci22
entific expeditions taken on behalf of the king and/or the local colonial authorities. The fact that, having strong support from both monarchs and Church institutions, they were able to travel to unexplored and unknown lands placed the Jesuits in the role of true explorers, who would definitively shape the European perception of the New World. Thanks to their regular reports, as well as to their strong connections to the intellectual centers of Europe (especially the French Academy of Sciences), the Jesuit contribution to the Age of Encounter and Exploration remained well documented, and the geographical knowledge accumulated during their expeditions was effectively disseminated both in the Old and New Worlds. The long-distance Jesuit network functioned well thanks to their organizational structure, which greatly facilitated the gathering and dissemination of scientific information within and beyond the Society. Owing to their early entry into education, the Society ensured a unique corporate structure, an overseas network of missionaries that was directly connected with the network of intellectual centers— their seminaries, colleges, and universities. Their sense of obligation, persistence, and social cohesion ensured the development of Jesuit corporate culture in which the sharing of information and collaboration in large projects became standard operating procedure. Although these elements of organization were initially and primarily developed to serve their administrative needs, over time the Society managed to develop a geographical network that encircled the world, enabling them to became major stakeholders in the history of exploration.
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1.3 Cartographers of Heaven and Earth
As active participants in the creation and dissemination of knowledge, the Jesuits became prominent protagonists in various scientific undertakings, exercising a powerful influence on the intellectual communities of the Old and New Worlds. Their interest in observational astronomy, Euclidean mathematics, and geometry, as well as their belief in the hierarchical and structured nature of knowledge, enabled them to become distinguished scientists in various fields, many of which were related to cartography. Being well educated in the natural sciences, the Jesuits very early began to observe the sky. Apart from contributing to philosophical and theological discussions, knowledge of the sky and astronomical phenomena was also necessary for the orientation of missionaries on their journeys, as well as for the production of accurate maps. Therefore, apart from descriptions of individual Jesuit provinces and their missions, Jesuit reports often also include information and data based upon their observation of eclipses, comets, and other celestial phenomena. Comets and eclipses, which have long been surrounded by many beliefs, particularly engaged the attention of the Jesuits. Those who carried out astronomical observations often shared the results of their findings with their colleagues, which results then became the subject of heated debates between them. One such famous dispute over the nature of comets was between Carlos de Sigüenza y Góngora and Eusebio Kino. In his writings Sigüenza y Góngora denied the conception of comets as omens.
Citing authors such as Copernicus, Galileo, Descartes, Kepler, and Tycho Brahe, he took steps to separate the fields of astrology and astronomy and was thus seen as a herald of the Enlightenment.37 Prompted by the intellectual debate with Sigüenza y Góngora, Kino published a treatise that contained his explanation of comets, criticizing his rival for contradicting the established astronomical and astrological belief in the heavens.38 Also notable is the correspondence on comets that took place between Athanasius Kircher and two Jesuit missionaries, Nicolò Mascardi and Valentin Stansel (1621– 1705), the latter a Moravian Jesuit who worked in Brazil.39 A strong interest in astronomical observations among Jesuit missionaries is also confirmed by reports from Ivan Rattkay, Alois Pfeil, José Quiroga, Claude-Jean Allouez, Francesco Giuseppe Bressani, and many others. Reports on these topics clearly demonstrate that the Jesuits were familiar with the use of astronomical tables and instruments. They were able to measure the altitudes of comets and their angular distance from reference stars, and to estimate the length of their tails. While their involvement in the observation of comets was mostly concerned with theoretical aspects (whether comets were formed below or beyond the moon, how they originated, whether was their path a straight line or a curve, as the Aristotelian tradition would have it), the observation of eclipses had a more practical use: to improve the accuracy of longitudinal measurements. The determination of the longitude of a certain geographical location by comparing the time of onset of the lunar eclipse Cartographers of Heaven and Earth
23
in that place and in the meridian of reference had been known since antiquity.40 It was fully described by Giovanni Battista Riccioli in his book Geographiae et hydrographiae (Bologna, 1661). Riccioli was one of the most famous seventeenth-century astronomers, and his work strongly influenced the scientific community worldwide. His book, which contained instructions for astronomical observations and a geodetic survey (including triangulation), as well as tables of settlements with the corresponding latitude, longitude, and magnetic declination, were part of the regular equipment of Jesuit missionaries (fig. 4). One of the early examples of use of eclipses to get an accurate fix on longitude was documented by the French Jesuit Francesco Giuseppe Bressani in his Breve Relatione (1653). He used the time difference between the occurrence of the eclipse at a specific location in France and the place of observation in New France and converted it into degrees of longitude. Similarly, he calculated the longitudinal distance between Huronia and Quebec and got precisely the correct result of thirty-five minutes of solar
Figur e 4. Demonstration of use of the triangulation method in geodetic surveying from Battista Riccioli’s Geographiae et hydrographiae (Bologna, 1661). (Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal) 24
time, or 8°45′ of longitude.41 This method was used and further developed by some of the most prominent Jesuit eighteenthcentury astronomers and mapmakers, such as Buenaventura Suárez (1679– 1750), who between 1719 and 1727, made a series of observations from the mission of San Cosme y San Damián. He published a work titled Lunario de un siglo (Lisbon, 1743 and 1748) that included a table with the differences in longitude and latitude between San Cosme and seventy other places in the world (fig. 5). Moreover, Suárez made his own astronomical instruments: a quadrant graduated in degrees and minutes, a pendulum clock, and telescopes. In 1723, in Portugal, two Italian Jesuits, Domenico Capacci and Giovanni Battista Carbone, used the method of observing lunar eclipses and the moons of Jupiter to calculate the distance of Lisbon from the Paris meridian.42 Later Capacci applied the same method in the survey of Brazil, measuring the distance from Rio de Janeiro to other Brazilian towns. Other testimonies confirm that many of the Jesuit cartographers were involved in astronomical observations, the results of which were then applied to their maps. For his 1749 map of Paraguay, José Quiroga made a calculation for thirty-six settlements, determining their latitudes and longitudes east of Ferro. A similar table was also published by Diego de Alvear and Joaquín Félix da Fonseca, both of whom were members of the boundary commission set up under the Treaty of Madrid.43 An extensive account containing tables with coordinates for thirty-two settlements was also published by Sánchez Labrador in his El Paraguay católico. The physical evidence of
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astronomical observations is still preserved in some of the missions. For example, the pedestals of sundials used for solar observations still exist in the Paraguayan missions of San Cosme y San Damián and La Cruz.44 The sundial pedestal in San Cosme y San Damián was possibly part of an observatory built by Father Buenaventura Suárez, a native of Santa Fe (Argentina), that helped him determine the latitude and longitude of various locations.45 The scientific work of Suárez, who since 1706 had dedicated himself to the study of the stars, was later continued by that of Father Karl Rechberg. Jesuit scientific work was not limited to their overseas missions. In Europe, Jesuits had an enormous influence on developing sciences such as astronomy. By the time of the suppression in 1773, of the world’s 130 observatories, thirty were operated by the Jesuits. One of the issues to which the Jesuits made a significant contribution was the problem of determining the shape of the earth. Ever since the Isaac Newton advanced his theory (1687) suggesting that the effect of gravitational force on the figure of the earth would produce an oblate spheroid slightly flattened at the poles (a rotational ellipsoid), scientists had concluded that the determination of the exact shape of the earth would require extremely accurate measurements of the length of a degree along a single meridian. Preceded by Charles Marie de La Condamine and Pierre Bouguer, who conducted the measurements of the length of a degree of longitude at the equator (1735– 45), and by Pierre-Louis Moreau de Maupertuis, who performed the same measurements in Lapland (1736– 37), the Jesuits decided to take
Figur e 5. Buenaventura Suárez’s table of longitudes (from San Cosme) and latitudes published in his Lunario de un siglo (Lisbon, 1748). (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
part in the discussion. Between 1750 and 1752 the Croatian Jesuit Roger Boscovich (1711– 1787), in collaboration with his English confrere Christopher Maire (1697– 1767), embarked on an expedition to conduct a survey along the meridian between Rome and Rimini.46 Boscovich used the method of polygon triangulation to measure a degree of longitude. Boscovich and Maire’s measurements confirmed that the earth was a rotational ellipsoid, thus once again confirming Newton’s theory. Moreover, measurements also enabled them to compile the first map of the Papal States based upon modern geodetic surveying Cartographers of Heaven and Earth
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principles.47 Another Jesuit, Joseph Liesganig (1719– 1799), the director of the observatory in Vienna, conducted a similar measurement of the length of a degree of longitude between Vienna and Brünn between 1759 and 1762.48 With their observations of numerous celestial phenomena, the Jesuits also made significant contributions to the exploration
and mapping of celestial bodies. Giovanni Battista Riccioli’s Almagestum novum (Bologna, 1651) was accompanied by one of the earliest maps of the moon (known as a selenograph) (fig. 6). The map itself should be attributed to Riccioli and his confrere Francesco Maria Grimaldi (1618– 1663), since Grimaldi was apparently responsible for drawing the map, while Riccioli was
F igur e 6. Selenograph by Giovanni Battista Riccioli and Francesco Grimaldi, published in Almagestum novum (Bologna, 1651). (Linda Hall Library of Science, Engineering & Technology) 26
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responsible for the names, using a modern system of lunar nomenclature that is still in use today. Thanks to their great contribution to science, especially mathematics and astronomy, no fewer than thirty-five lunar craters have been named in honor of Jesuit scientists. They significantly improved celestial cartography as well. One of the oldest star charts of the Southern Hemisphere was produced by the French Jesuit Ignace-Gaston Pardies (1636– 1673). He produced the star atlas Globi coelestis in tabulas planas redacti descriptio (Paris, 1674), comprising six gnomonic maps and containing some 1,481 stars.49 It was the Jesuits who introduced to China Western techniques of mapping the sky, including the division of the stars into six classes of brightness. One of the most striking examples of Jesuit achievement in celestial cartography in China is a bronze celestial globe 1.5 m (five feet) in diameter, produced by the Flemish Jesuit Ferdinand Verbiest (1623– 1688) in 1670, and an extensive map displaying more than three thousand stars, produced by a team of Jesuits in 1752. The globe, which weighs nearly four tons, is at the Beijing Ancient Observatory and is still in excellent condition after more than three hundred years in the open air. The Jesuit contribution to the development of terrestrial cartography was particularly prominent in non-European countries, where the Jesuits served as missionaries. Their efforts were particularly visible not only in the Americas but also in Asia, most notably in China. The Italian Jesuit Matteo Ricci (1552– 1610), who spent almost thirty years in China, should be considered one of the founding figures of Jesuit cartography.
Showing China as the center of the world, Matteo Ricci’s impressive world map, begun in 1584 and printed in 1602, reflects both his appreciation of Chinese culture and sciences and his European education, rooted in the geometry of Christopher Clavius and the cartography of Abraham Ortelius. The power of his collaborative and synthetic cartography enabled Ricci to open up space for other missionaries in China who would become involved in the mapping of the Chinese Empire.50 Over the course of the next two centuries, at least thirty-five Jesuits participated in cartographic projects in China. The presence of the Jesuits in China and their success in mapping also led to increased interest in cartography as a representational strategy in Japan, Korea, the Philippines, Southeast Asia, India, and Russia. Fascination with Ricci’s world map encouraged the early Jesuit presence in Japan, where the Sicilian Jesuit Girolamo de Angelis (1567– 1623) mapped Hokkaido; and in the eighteenth century the French Jesuit Antoine Gaubil (1689– 1759) mapped the Ryukyu Islands and southern Japan. Although forbidden in Korea, Jesuits from China had an especially strong impact there, influencing both terrestrial and celestial cartography. Jesuit astronomy and celestial maps, which first appeared in China during the late Ming Dynasty (1368– 1644), were introduced to Korea during the early Qing Dynasty (1644– 1912). In 1708 a copy of 1608 Matteo Ricci’s map appeared, as well as Adam Schall von Bell’s 1634 star map. The Chinese-Korean knowledge exchange saw its peak in 1740s, when largeformat star-chart screens based on the 1723 work of Ignatius Kögler (1680– 1746) Cartographers of Heaven and Earth
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were introduced at the Korean court; these played an important role in the consolidation of Korean imperial authority around the calendar and, more broadly, conceptions of space and time.51 Jesuit mapping activities in the Philippines, Vietnam, and Siam (Thailand) played an important role in the mapping of these areas as well as in later nationalist discourses. Jesuit mapping in India was started by the Portuguese Father Antonio de Montserrat (1536– 1600), who compiled a detailed map of the region in 1580.52 Further Jesuit cartographic activity in India was additionally spurred after 1689, when the French missionaries who were expelled from Siam arrived there to develop the Carnate mission, with the assistance of France. In 1719 Jean-Venant Bouchet (1655– 1732), one of the most prominent Jesuits in India, compiled a map of southern part of the country. Jesuit cartographic work in both China and India was capitalized on by Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville, who used the Jesuits’ knowledge to prepare his maps of Asia for the European market. Finally, the Jesuits also contributed to the mapping of Africa. The Portuguese Jesuit Manoel de Almeida (1580– 1646), in his account on Ethiopia accompanied by a map compiled around 1644 (published in Coimbra, 1660), provided up-to-date information that helped resolve disputes about the size of Ethiopia and the source and course of the Nile. Besides their work on mapping, the Jesuits also invented many instruments fundamental to the development of cartography. Giovanni Battista Riccioli contributed significantly to the development of the pendulum clock, a device for precisely measuring time that 28
would be crucial in the accurate determination of longitude. In his experiments, in which he reduced the pendulum’s swing, he managed to improve the precision of the pendulum clock, which was then used as a standard for calibrating pendulums with different periods. The pantograph, a device for mechanical tracing of maps at the same or an enlarged or reduced scale, was invented by the Jesuit scholar Christoph Scheiner (ca. 1573– 1650), who constructed one in 1603. His invention, which was first used to copy and scale diagrams, was acknowledged twenty-seven years later when he described it in his Pantographice, seu ars delineandi (Rome, 1631; fig. 7). Scheiner also created one of the first terrestrial telescopes. Father Franz Ellspacher (1678– 1742) published a dissertation, Barometron Torricellianum quaestionibus philosophicis (Dilingae, 1714), that significantly contributed to the understanding of the physics of barometers, necessary for determining altitude. Niccolò Zucchi (1586– 1670) worked on telescope design. Zucchi’s Optica philosophia (Lugduni [Lyon], 1652– 56) described his 1616 experiments using a curved mirror instead of a lens as a telescope’s objective— possibly the earliest known description of a reflecting telescope. Christoforo Borri (1583– 1632), a Jesuit missionary in Vietnam, made observations on the magnetic variation of the compass. According to Athanasius Kircher, Borri drew up the first chart for the Atlantic and Indian Oceans showing the spots where the magnetic needle makes the same angles with the meridian; if this is true, he should be regarded as the forerunner of Edmund Halley.53 All this reminds us of the pivotal role that the Jesuits played
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Figur e 7. Pantograph in Christoph Scheiner’s Pantographice, seu ars delineandi (Rome, 1631). (Eidgenössische Technische Hochschule, Zurich)
in the development of modern science. Geography and cartography are disciplines whose most glorious pages were written in the Age of Encounter, a period in which the Jesuits took a prominent place in the history of the exploration and mapping of both Americas. 1.4 The Emergence and Development of Jesuit Cartography in the Americas
From the very beginning of European involvement in the Americas, mapping was considered an important part of the colonial enterprise. In the early stage of the conquest of the Americas, an important role in mapping the first outlines of the continent and its coastal belt was played by the central royal institutions of the empires that strove to establish their authority in the New World. In the case of the Spanish crown it was the Casa de Contratación, founded by Queen Isabella I of Castile in 1503,
eleven years after the European discovery of the Americas in 1492. The Casa de Contratación produced and managed the Padrón Real, the official (and secret) Spanish map used as a template for the maps carried by every Spanish ship during the sixteenth century. It was constantly being improved from its first version in 1508. The Casa also ran a navigation school where new pilots, or navigators, were trained for ocean voyages. The mapmaking enterprise at the Casa de Contratación was a huge undertaking and critical to the success of the early transatlantic voyages.54 The Portuguese counterpart of the Casa de Contratación was the Casa da Índia of Lisbon. Probably established as early as the late fifteenth century, the Casa da Índia was strongly associated with the Armazém da Guiné e da Índias, which was in charge of matters related to the nautical sciences, including map production. These two coordinated bodies were the central authorities responsible for managing all as-
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pects of overseas trade, including direction of the royal naval arsenal and the handling of all nautical matters. Cartographers of the Armazém produced and maintained a master Portuguese nautical chart, known as the Padrão Real, to which new discoveries of the Portuguese were added over time.55 The chart, which was available only to the scientific elite of the time, represented the achievements of Portuguese explorers and their latest advances in knowledge of the New World. At the same time, French monarchs were more likely to grant monopolies on exploration and mapping privileges to individuals, such as Giovanni da Verrazzano or Jacques Cartier, rather than to central institutions. Only in the early seventeenth century did the trading companies, such as the Company of New France (c. 1602), or the Company of One Hundred Associates (established in 1627), which were chartered to explore and colonize New France, come to dominate mapping as well. These approaches of the Spanish, Portuguese, and French royal authorities to the early mapping of the Americas resulted in the development of imperial and/or colonial cartography, which produced mainly large-scale maps or cosmographic representations of the continental outlines as navigational aids in voyages to the Indies.56 These cartographers were mainly concerned with the definition of the coastlines of the New World and of the general shape of its territory. Most of these nautical charts were compiled from the sketches of the navigators, who represented the regions they were exploring without conforming to Ptolemy’s geographical concepts. Thanks to the joint efforts of navigators, cartographers, and 30
cosmographers, during the first half of the sixteenth century distinctive contours of the Americas were made clear. However, almost everything else within these vast landmasses remained to be clarified. As time went by and the colonial powers started to take root in the Americas, a need appeared for more detailed maps. In the late sixteenth century, the royal authorities as well as some charter companies started putting more effort into the development of the first more detailed maps of the coast, as well as into the mapping of the immediate hinterland. Although some effort was made in this regard, in most cases the rare regional and local maps produced could not serve as an effective basis for colonization.57 So how did cartography go from the first outline maps of the American continent, published in cosmographies in the sixteenth century, to the detailed regional maps that appeared in the eighteenth century? The exploration and mapping of the interior required considerable human and material resources, and, no less important, contact with the local population. Territorial expansion beyond the coastal colonial cities could only be effected by sending in reliable agents who, by exploring the territory and gaining the confidence of the indigenous peoples, would enable imperial authority to be established. It was no coincidence that colonial expansion into the continent’s interior at the end of the sixteenth century coincided with the arrival of the Jesuits, who, leaving the urban centers on the coast, went off to explore and map unknown areas in their interiors in order to set up their missions there. In this process of exploration and establish-
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ment of new missions, the Jesuits started to produce the first detailed maps of the interior for their own purposes. To survive, they had to know the locations and distances between missions and the spatial distribution of the local native nations. The Jesuits’ strict organizational structure and the obligation of frequent written reporting (often accompanied by maps) in particular contributed to the consolidation of the Jesuit culture of mapping. Thus, it was the Jesuits who played a vital role in the development of regional mapping of the interior, filling many gaps— which had previously been filled with images of monsters and mythical places— with geographical content. Based upon field surveys and astronomical observations, constructed at relatively large scales, and including graticules of latitude and longitude, Jesuit maps represented the first regional maps of the New World. Using and producing maps became for the missionaries a tool for survival. Hence, when we compare the first maritime and exploratory maps of the American continent to the detailed regional maps that the local colonial and military authorities started producing in the mid-eighteenth century, it is the Jesuit mapping, based upon their fieldwork, that links these two stages of cartography. Although many authors consider Jesuit cartography to be part of colonial cartography and not a distinct genre, maps produced by the Jesuits show a certain coherence that distinguished them from regular colonial maps. Appearing amid great geographical discoveries and the formation of overseas European colonies, Jesuit cartography indeed followed many conventions
of colonial cartography, but it also showed many particularities. Much more than just an accurate survey of the terrain, Jesuit maps tended to reflect networks of information (topologies). Mapping by missionaries strove to straddle the notional boundary between topographical and topological mapping and sought to merge the relational knowledge of human geography with some sort of scale representation of physical geography.58 Because they were superior observers of culture, their maps contained details and information that most Europeans would not have found relevant or interesting. According to Harley, what distinguished Jesuit cartographers from others was their religious motivation and the aspects of persuasion to which they were harnessed.59 Jesuit cartography remained firmly linked to the space and time of the missionaries’ religious world. However, owing to the fact that the Jesuits operated within the context of imperial expansion, the relation between colonial and Jesuit cartography was very strong, and in many cases there were no clear boundaries between them. The Jesuits were an important vehicle for the colonial state’s efforts to impose order in regions where members of the Society were the only representatives of European power. Thus, Jesuit geographical knowledge was at the service not only of religion but also of the colonial power. Jesuit cartography should therefore be considered a precursor to modern imperialism, as well as to modern anthropology and sociology.60 Jesuit mapping served the purpose of the order— to develop its missionary activity— as well as the interests of imperial states.
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However, the Jesuits did not rely solely upon their own observations in the process of gaining knowledge. They exchanged information with the indigenous population, introducing their knowledge into the Jesuits’ maps (for example, the abundant native toponymy on early Jesuit maps such as those of Moxos by Juan de Guevara or of Huronia by Jean de Brébeuf). Not only did indigenous people serve as irreplaceable guides to the Jesuits on their journeys, but they themselves were also explorers who shared their information willingly. There is considerable evidence that Jesuits acquired native geographical knowledge that was transferred to them not only orally but also through sketches made by their indigenous guides and contacts. Contrary to traditional narrative on European conquest, natives often cooperated and shared information not only with missionaries but also with the colonial military staff, with whom they often joined in exchange for protection from other native nations.61 In that regard, the writings of Samuel de Champlain, an early explorer and governor of New France, are very instructive. In his report of 1604 he noted that natives he met had very useful geographical information they were ready to share, and that they were also willing to draw maps if asked.62 Father Paul Le Jeune, in his account of 1637, relates that a Montagnais chief from Tadoussac drew a map of the Iroquois country for Governor Montmagny: “He took the pencil and sketched the country saying, here is the river which is to take us into a great lake; from this lake we pass into the land of our enemies.”63 Similar testimonies on direct native involvement can be found in Jesuit 32
relations by Fathers Jacques Marquette, Pierre-Michel Laure, Claude Dablon, Gabriel Druillettes, José Quiroga, and many others. Thus, the exchange of knowledge between natives and representatives of colonial power, including Jesuits, was equally vital to the success of emerging European possessions in the New World and the excellence of Jesuit cartography. Native influence was also visible in the graphic style of the Jesuit maps. The occasional use of glyphs as symbols for mountains (instead of hills) and rich pictorial illustrations that strongly resemble sixteenth-century Spanish pinturas were clearly inspired by indigenous cartography.64 This kind of cartographic syncretism was quite common on early Jesuit maps. The distinct indigenous presence confirms that Jesuit maps were an expression of cross-cultural communication. Capturing the double— European and indigenous— image of the territories, Jesuit maps were used by colonial agents to design strategies of occupation and territorial control. This ambiguity reflects in many ways the complex relationship between missions, knowledge, and empire. Although often used for purely imperial purposes, the sort of map the Jesuits compiled most often depended on the practical requirements of their missionary work. They needed maps that would enable them to orientate themselves easily in the terrain, travel to and supply their missions, and organize mission visitations. The map was an instrument that helped them organize their work, indicating trails that linked one mission to another, recording the lands of the Christian natives and of those still to be converted, and pointing out watering holes
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and all the main natural points of orientation, such as mountains, rivers, and lakes. All the same, the Jesuits were not unaware of power that maps had. In their maps, territory was always presented as a theater of Christianization and the Jesuits as the bearers of progress and enlightenment. In its purpose and contents, the largest part of the Jesuit cartographic production has the characteristics of missionary cartography, with its prominent ecclesiastical statement. However, the reduction of Jesuit cartography solely to a mapping of their missions would be a simplistic understanding of their diverse cartographic activities and their profoundly sophisticated metageography (see section 1.7 on iconography). Jesuit maps, by which we mean all maps that were based upon exploration and fieldwork carried out by Jesuits, differ depending on the period and the historical context in which they were made. The principal aim of Jesuit cartographers was undoubtedly to map Jesuit establishments in the provinces. Accordingly, the majority of Jesuit maps were focused on the presentation of missions within a certain province. However, even these Jesuit maps often contained much more than depictions of missions and their indigenous inhabitants. Jesuit maps were often the first to mark the physical geography of previously unknown areas and of their natural resources. They questioned the geographical features of the regions they were exploring (was Baja California an is land or a peninsula? was there a passage to China?), and they ascended rivers and searched for their headwaters. Thus, Jesuit cartography shared many of the characteristics of exploratory cartography.
Jesuit mapmaking often served as a direct substitute for state or military cartography. In the absence of an state institution that would organize systematic mapping of the empires, the Jesuits acted as a trusted extension of colonial authorities, doing work that otherwise would have been done by official cartographers. The intertwining of military, state, and Jesuit cartography was further stimulated by the geographical position of Jesuit provinces. Situated on the peripheries, Jesuit provinces also served as borderlands between the empires. The Jesuits were thus often involved in producing maps for imperial purposes, working together with the military and government authorities. Accordingly, the Jesuits participated in the making of a significant number of hydrographic maps, nautical charts, demarcation maps, route maps, and property maps for public administration, the economy, certain internal or external affairs of the colonial governments, and even military purposes. Scientifically based and compiled on the basis of field observations, Jesuit maps were highly appreciated even outside Jesuit circles. Numerous military maps from the first half of the eighteenth century that were in fact based upon Jesuit maps testify to the particularly strong circulation of knowledge between Jesuit and military cartographers operating in colonial possessions in America. Even a casual examination of the contents and design of these maps reveals great similarity with earlier Jesuit maps of the same area. For example, a map of New Spain in six sheets compiled by the military engineer Francisco Álvarez Barreiro in 1725– 29 reflects the strong influence of Jesuit cartog-
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raphy. Although Álvarez Barreiro’s map is based upon an original military survey, by its contents and iconography, it looks more like a missionary than a military map. At the same time, if we look at the purpose and contents of some of the maps made by the Portuguese Jesuits, such as, for example, the map of Colônia do Sacramento, compiled by Diogo Soares in 1731, we can see that it has all the features of military cartography. These examples confirm that the exchange of knowledge and the mutual influences between Jesuit cartography and other cartographies (both colonial and military) were exceptionally strong. The evolution and characteristics of the maps produced by the Jesuits were at the time quite different. Not only did the themes of Jesuit maps show great variability, but also their mapmaking techniques were different. The cartography produced by the Jesuits changed dramatically over time and did not always follow the same pattern. By the beginning of the eighteenth century, rough drafts made using the à la vue method typical of seventeenth-century Jesuit cartography turned into detailed regional maps accompanied by geographical coordinates and statements of scale. Moreover, Jesuit cartography in the lands of the Spanish crown did not have exactly the same characteristics as it did in the lands of the Portuguese crown, or in the areas of French possessions in North America. There are also significant differences between countries in the possession of the same crown. Jesuit missionaries did not work under the same circumstances everywhere, nor did they have the same support from colonial or local authorities. All this 34
had a significant impact on the contents and purposes of Jesuit maps in different countries of the Americas. In the following chapters we will show the specifics of Jesuit cartography of individual countries and provinces. 1.5 Techniques of Jesuit Mapmaking
In order to compile a map, the Jesuit cartographer had to gather geographical data by personal observation and/or from other geographical and cartographic sources (if it existed). Most Jesuit maps were compiled by combining these methods, especially with reference to the mathematical base of the map. Jesuit cartographers often used existing maps to sketch the skeleton of their map (grid) and the main geographical outlines of the wider region. The base thus prepared was then used to enter data from their own observations and measurements. When it came to entering data based upon a Jesuit cartographer’s firsthand knowledge, the initial task was to fix a number of places through compass readings and estimate the distance from those places whose position he already knew from other reliable sources. Then he could calculate or estimate their latitudes. Once he had a certain number of places whose position he had fixed, he could calculate their longitudes. This could be done by extending the grid of a source map into the territory he had explored, or by constructing a new grid from a prime meridian of his choice, according to his estimates of distance, compass angles, and latitudes. The longitudinal grid he constructed had to conform to the scale he was using, and therefore he used leagues to estimate
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the distances. When this basic grid was prepared, he could continue with the sketching in of the topographic details. When copying other geographical data from a source map, the standard method was to draw a grid over the map to be copied and transfer the information square by square to the new map.65 Good equipment was of the essence for conducting their own observations. The usual navigational instruments consisted of a compass (probably equipped with a gnomon so that it could be used as a sundial), an astrolabe, sometimes a quadrant, a telescope, and a navigational handbook that included tables with latitude, longitude, and magnetic declination (such as, for example, Riccioli’s tables). An extensive list of instruments and instructions for their use from Heinrich Scherer’s Geographia Artificialis, used by many Jesuits, confirms that they were conversant with measurement techniques as well as with instruments required for precise calculations (figs. 8 and 9). Most Jesuits carried a compass. That compasses deviated from true north was already well-known, as were methods for correcting this declination. The calculation of latitude was more complicated. Regardless of whether they used an astrolabe, a crossstaff, or a backstaff, reliable declination tables were still necessary in order to compensate for parallax. Although there is a lot of evidence that some of the Jesuits (such as, for example, Kino) took observations of latitude by means of one of the aforementioned instruments, many simply estimated their latitude by so-called dead reckoning. The measurement of distances on land was another problem facing the Jesuits.
While there were some crude instruments for measuring distance at sea, such as the chip log, there were none for measuring distance in inland areas. Accordingly, all distances had to be estimated, based mostly on travel time. Many Jesuit logs confirm that travel time (from departure to arrival) was the most frequently used value during their field trips, so it was commonly used for calculating distances. Although distances were recorded in leagues, these units varied considerably depending on the preference or origin of the mapmaker. As a rule, Spanish Jesuit maps referred to Castilian leagues. In a reflection of the Spanish association with France and its Académie Royale, some Spanish maps were accompanied by a double scale indicating both Castilian and French leagues. Portuguese maps referred to Portuguese leagues, while French ones commonly used French leagues as their unit of measurement. Another way of estimating distance as well as longitude was a method called the “Rule to Raise or Lay a Degree of Latitude,” also known as the “Table of Leagues.” If the direction of a journey was known through compass readings, and if accurate latitudinal observations had been taken (usually by measuring the height of the sun or stars above the horizon with an astrolabe), then the angular distance traversed by a traveler could be calculated from a table of cosines and compared to estimates of distance. Longitude or lateral distance (from the place of departure) could also be calculated by the Pythagorean theorem if latitudinal distance and angular distance were known, or by means of a table of tangents if latitudinal distance and compass direction were known. Yet, instead of Techniques of Jesuit Mapmaking
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F igur e 8. Instruments for reckoning time by observing heavenly bodies. Pages from Heinrich Scherer’s manual Geographia Artificialis (Munich, 1703), which was often used by the Jesuits. (Max-Planck-Instituts fur Wissenschaftsgeschichte)
applying complicated trigonometric calculations, many of the Jesuits used a set of navigation tables that enabled them to measure the angular distance for a certain compass angle over one degree of latitude.66 In order to get an accurate fix on longitude, the 36
method of timing eclipses, describe earlier, was applied. The complexity of the calculation of longitude is reflected in the fact that many Jesuit (and other) maps of that era still did not indicate longitude— only latitude, which was easier to calculate.
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F IGUR E 9. Instruments for determining longitude without a chronometer. Pages from Heinrich Scherer’s manual Geographia Artificialis (Munich, 1703). (Max-Planck-Instituts fur Wissenschaftsgeschichte)
There is yet another issue in respect to the determination of longitude that is strongly reflected in Jesuit mapmaking, namely the question of the prime meridian. Since at that time there were no universal reference data for determining longitude,
different strategic, political, and commercial considerations induced the cartographers to use different prime meridians,67 whether in commercial, maritime, state, or colonial cartography. Jesuit cartography was no exception. In general, we can say that the Techniques of Jesuit Mapmaking
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choice of prime meridian on Jesuit maps was related to the prime meridian preferred by the particular empire the mapmaker served. In that regard, most of the Jesuit maps of Spanish origin referred to Ferro (17°40′ west of Greenwich) and Tenerife (16°38′22″ west of Greenwich). The early Portuguese Jesuits referred to Cape Verde (see, e.g., Jacques Coclé’s 1697 map of Brazil), and later developed Rio de Janeiro as the meridian from which latitude was reckoned (such as the 1734– 35 maps of Minas Gerais by Soares and Capacci). French Jesuit cartography was probably inclined to use Ferro, just as official French cartography did, but there is some doubt about this, because only three of the French Jesuit maps contained a reference to longitude ( Jérôme Lalemant’s 1639 map of Huronia, Bressani’s 1657 map of New France that was printed in Rome, and Pierre-Michel Laure’s 1731 map of Quebec), none of which specified the prime meridian that was used. However, when comparing French Jesuit maps to other maps of their time (especially those of French origin, such as Nicolas Sanson’s), their values of longitude mostly coincide with those on Jesuit maps, suggesting that Ferro was used, measuring eastward. The different choices of prime meridian were not only the result of the fact that Jesuit mapmakers served different empires. They were also an important marker of the types and origins of the source materials that the Jesuits used in their mapmaking, a point that highlights the evolution and exchange of knowledge. The use of certain foreign source maps or astronomical tables could have influenced their choice of prime meridian, particularly if it deviated 38
from the standard prime meridian used in the country for which they worked. For example, one of the first Jesuit maps to refer to the Paris meridian was Carolo Brentano’s map of Quito (Rome, 1751). His atypical choice, later followed by Franz Xavier Veigl (the 1769 map of Quito), was the result of his extensive use of the work of the French explorer Charles Marie de La Condamine, who also referred to the Paris meridian. Of course, in the case of printed Jesuit maps, the choice of the prime meridian could have been the result of a decision made by the editor, which would not necessarily coincide with that used by the mapmaker in his autograph version. According to Matthew Edney, a different preference of prime meridians also serves as an indicator of distinct phases of cartographic practice from the Renaissance, in which various Atlantic islands were preferred, to the Enlightenment, when Tenerife, Ferro, and London prevailed, to modernity, in which the prime meridian of Greenwich, Paris, or Cádiz predominated.68 Although the use of the Canary Islands as a prime meridian was part of Ptolemy’s legacy (the Fortunate Isles were usually identified with the Canaries), it often served as a model for other mapmakers in the Age of Encounter and Exploration. The widespread and long-term use of the meridians of the Canaries, the Cape Verde Islands, and the Azores was additionally spurred by the use of a so-called agonic meridian, a line along which the magnetic declination would be zero. Many of the sixteenth-century voyagers sailing near the Azores, the Canaries, and Cape Verde had noted the absence of magnetic declina-
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tion in these waters (in those days magnetic variation was still considered time invariant).69 Gerardus Mercator used Corvo (the northernmost island of the Azores) when in 1589 he compiled his famous world map, drawn on the projection that now bears his name. This prime meridian was later promulgated in the Low Countries by many Dutch cartographers, such as Plancius, Willem Barents, Willem Janzs. Blaeu, and Jodocus Hondius, as well by navigators of the Dutch East India Company (VOC). The same meridian of reference was used by the early French (Champlain), Portuguese (de Lisboa, de Fonseca, de Saa), and Spanish (Cortés, Fernández de Oviedo) cartographers of America. However, after Henry Gellibrand, a professor of astronomy in London, published his work in 1635 in which he proved that the Earth’s magnetic field changed over time, the concept of an agonic meridian was abandoned, and Corvo lost its primacy. From the 1640s onward Tenerife predominated, becoming the prime meridian most frequently used by Dutch cartographers and navigators, with a significant increase in use after 1662. The preference for Tenerife was owed to its good visibility (Mount Teide, a volcano on Tenerife, has an elevation of 3.7 km [12,000 feet]), and its geographical position in the Canaries, ideally located as way station for Atlantic crossings to North America and the West Indies. In 1787 the Amsterdam Admiralty had declared Tenerife an official prime meridian, and it remained in use until 1826, when Greenwich was adopted.70 Starting in the early eighteenth century, Tenerife was used as the prime meridian by most of the German cartographers as well.
The strong influence of Dutch cartography on the global scene in the Age of Encounter and Exploration is clearly reflected in the use of Tenerife in a number of Jesuit maps of Spanish origin. Jesuit cartographers such as Adam Gilg (the 1692 map of Sonora), José Cardiel (the 1746 and 1751 maps of Patagonia), José Quiroga (the 1750 map of Patagonia), Juan Nentwig and Bernhard Middendorff (the 1764 map of Sonora), José Palomino (the 1765 map of Sinaloa), and Martin Dobrizhoffer (the 1784 map of Paraguay) indicated Tenerife as the prime meridian of their maps. It was more often used in New Spain and Paraguay than in other Spanish territories. At the same time, the use of Ferro (El Hierro) was encouraged by a decree issued by the King Louis XIII of France in 1634 and applied to many French maps from the mid-seventeenth century on. It proved to be a very practical choice, as it was exactly 20 degrees west of Paris.71 While the use of Ferro on French Jesuit maps was somewhat expected, its popularity among Spanish Jesuit mapmakers came as a surprise. Contrary to conventional wisdom, Ferro was more often used in Spanish Jesuit maps than Tenerife. Although most of the Spanish maritime and military maps of their overseas possessions referred to Tenerife, many Spanish Jesuit mapmakers made a different choice.72 Favoring Ferro rather than Tenerife was probably related to the use of astronomical tables that refer to that prime meridian. Thus, the Jesuit preference for Ferro was, to a great extent, the result of practicality rather than Spanish cartographic policy. Spanish cartographers who used Ferro as the prime meridian on their maps Techniques of Jesuit Mapmaking
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include Juan Francisco Dávila and Antonio Machoni (the 1732 map of Paraguay), Jean Magnin (the 1740 map of Quito), José Gumilla (the 1741 map of New Granada), José Quiroga (the 1749 map of Paraguay), Karl Hirschko (the 1751 map of Peru), José Cardiel (the 1752 and 1771 maps of Paraguay), Tadeáš Xaver Enis (the 1756 map of the Banda Oriental), Thomas Falkner (the 1772 map of South America), an anonymous cartographer of Peru (1764), José Sánchez Labrador (the 1772 maps of Paraguay), Juan Ignacio Molina (the 1776 map of Chile), Filippo Salvatore Gilii (the 1780 map of the Orinoco), and Joaquín Camaño (the 1789 map of Gran Chaco ). The use of Ferro is evident in all of the Spanish provinces. Ferro was widely accepted among the Portuguese Jesuits as well. Although Capacci and Soares had put much effort into establishing Rio de Janeiro as the Brazilian meridian of reference, it did not reach the coveted status. Most of the Portuguese eighteen-century maps, including the state and military ones, still preferred Ferro.73 That also is true of some Portuguese Jesuit maps, such as Soares’s 1737– 40 maps of Santa Catarina and Rio Grande do Sul, as well as Ignatius Szentmártonyi’s map of the Amazon, drafted in 1755 for the demarcation of the northern Portuguese borders after the Treaty of Madrid. The geographical content that the Jesuits put into their maps was based primarily upon their firsthand knowledge, but it was also strongly influenced by the European perception of the region. Their choice of which geographical features to map and which to omit reflected the powerful hold that the geographical concepts accepted in 40
Europe had on Jesuit mapping of unfamiliar regions. By using European maps not only as the starting point of their exploration but also as their role model, the Jesuits transferred European discourse into their New World maps. Jesuit maps thus reflected both the conventions of European cartography and colonial interests (see section 1.7 on iconography). Once finalized, autograph maps would be sent to the Jesuit authority of the province as part of the regular missionary reports, as well as to the viceroy and the central royal authority in Europe. Only a select number of them were chosen to be published. For that, a map had to pass a thorough editorial procedure. Data gleaned from the wilderness had to be verified, refined, reconciled with other sources, and even modified to meet certain political or ideological purposes. That point, at which material from the field was transformed into graphic images suitable for public use, was a key part of the cartographic process. 1.6 Editorial Interventions into Jesuit Maps: Originals and Their Edited Versions
Most of the Jesuit maps we know today came from printed editions published in Jesuit accounts. This means that an original map had already passed through the editorial process. Just as Jesuit reports had to pass a revision by superiors who were releasing them for publication, so did maps go through editorial changes during their preparation for publication. Sometimes these editorial interventions affected not only the visual identity or mathematical base of a map but also its geographical con-
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tent. In order to gain an insight into the effects of editorial interventions, we have compared several maps for which, apart from their printed (edited) editions, we have the original manuscripts. In that regard, comparison of the autographs by Samuel Fritz, Ferdinand Konščak, and José Gumilla, as well as of the Marquette-Allouez map of the Great Lakes, with their printed versions answers at least some questions. One of the most common editorial interventions concerned the issue of the mathematical base of a map. The Jesuits had limited opportunity to determine the precise coordinates of individual locations in the field, especially in terms of longitude. A significant number of Jesuit maps whose original versions we are familiar with do not even have the degrees of longitude marked on them, whereas these are more or less regularly present in their printed editions. For example, Konščak’s original version of the 1746 map of Baja California has only a scale of the degrees of latitude, whereas the printed version prepared by Pedro Maria Nascimben for the Noticia de la California (Madrid, 1757), does have a scale of longitude. It is evident that this was an editorial adjustment of Konščak’s autograph. Because in many cases longitude was not indicated even in the Jesuit cartographers’ diaries (see the diaries of the Colorado River expedition by Juan Mateo Manje and Eusebio Kino, which typically indicated the latitudes of particular locations but never their respective longitudes), editors had no other choice but to use other templates in the preparation of maps for publication. Some map editors or editors-compilers did not carefully compare the original map and the
author’s narrative, so in some cases there was a noticeable difference between the geographical data on the map and the accompanying narrative. For example, Martin Dobrizhoffer gives different coordinates of the settlements in his narrative from those noted for the same settlements in his 1784 map of Paraguay— evidently because they were corrected by whoever prepared the map for publication. The same discrepancy between settlement coordinates in a narrative and an accompanying map is also noted in Adam Gilg. Conversely, in manuscript originals that originally included a scale of latitude and/ or longitude, the editors did not usually revise the coordinate system. This is confirmed by Samuel Fritz’s autograph map of 1691 and its printed version of 1707; by José Gumilla’s sketches and their finalized version, published in 1741; and by the autograph map of the Great Lakes by Marquette and Allouez, published in 1672 and 1673, which saw minor changes to its mathematical base in the printed edition. In addition to adjustments made to the mathematical bases of the maps, other interventions in the original templates are noticeable, particularly concerning their geographical content. Editors often supplemented original maps not only with other Jesuit maps but also with other maps they had available. Kino’s manuscript map Passo por Tierra a la California of 1701, compiled after his renowned Colorado River expedition, was published in Paris in the 1705 edition of the Lettres édifiantes with significant editorial adjustments to its contents (see fig. 35 below). The territorial scope of the map, the contours of the coastline, and Originals and Their Edited Versions
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the hydrographic network are fully consistent. While there were no changes to the original map concerning the physical geography of the terrain, the editor did make significant additions to the human geography of the region. In the interior hinterland (Sonora and Sinaloa), for which Kino’s original 1701 map gave only a little information about Jesuit missions, the editorial version was supplemented not only by the addition of new missions that had been founded in the meantime, but also by numerous settlements of unconverted indigenous people. Pedro Maria Nascimben, the map editorcompiler of the Miguel Venegas and Marcos Burriel’s book Noticia de la California, went a step further for one of the most well-known printed Jesuit maps, the Mapa de la California (see fig. 45 below). When preparing the map, which showed the entire northwestern fringe of New Spain, Nascimben compiled Ferdinand Konščak’s 1746 map (of Baja California) and Eusebio Kino’s 1702 map (of the mainland) in into one, thus making Konščak and Kino the coauthors of a map summarizing all their geographical discoveries and field explorations (see figs. 43 and 36 below). The level of editorial intervention probably depended primarily upon the degree of completion of the manuscript original. Sometimes the editor was given merely rough terrain sketches that had to be compiled into a unique map and enriched with all the conventional elements such as scale, title cartouche, and graticule. One copy of the field original by José Gumilla, drafted in 1732 and illustrating an early stage of his future 1741 map of New Granada, yields insight into the appearance of original field 42
sketches, and a comparison of the sketch with its printed (edited) version gives us some idea of what the editor’s role might have looked like (figs. 10 and 11). Although we do not know whether this sketch was just a first phase of his mapmaking effort that was followed by a more complete effort, or whether it was the final version, this case illustrates the mapmaking process in the field, as well as the key direction of the subsequent editorial work carried out. The sketch has no relief or presentation of the wider geographical environment, the mathematical base is a simple rectangular mesh, and the orientation to the north is presented by a straight line that bisects the entire sketch. The presentation is focused solely on the Orinoco and its tributaries, revealing the fact that the river courses were also the lines of the survey, which was conducted by navigating them. A large amount of information on river islands confirms the author’s special interest in navigation (rivers were also the main means of transport). At the same time, the direction of the river’s flow is almost north– south, suggesting that compass measurements had not been taken often enough to determine the real direction of the river’s flow. Human geography is noted as seen from the river, and the parts with a denser concentration of missions were mapped more enthusiastically than others. The finalized 1741 map put the contents of Gumilla’s sketch into a broader geographical context that encompassed the whole of New Granada: it made the density of information somewhat more uniform; corrected the direction of the river course; added missing elements such as relief; and equipped the map with a title, explanation
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key, and dedication, thus adjusting the field data to the expectations and conventions of European cartography. The maps that saw the most drastic interventions were those published long after they had been made, most often after the death of their authors. Such is the case with Veigl’s manuscript map of Quito of 1769, which was prepared for print in 1780 and published in Germany only in 1785, long after the suppression of the order. His autograph map, now heavily edited by Peter Parcar, is barely recognizable (see figs. 96 and 97 below). The numerous left-bank tributaries to the Amazon, which all run almost parallel to the west– east direction of the river, and the overemphasized meanders of the Ucayali River— both attributes characteristic of Veigl’s autograph— are the only remaining details recognizable in the printed version of the map. Aware that some fifteen years had passed since the map had been created, Parcar reworked Veigl’s original so extensively, adding to it data from modern maps and extending the coverage of the map south all the way to Lima, that the connection with Veigl’s autograph was almost completely lost. Even more extreme editorial changes were applied to the 1767 map of Moxos by František Xavier Eder. The Hungarian editor, Pál Makó, who was preparing Eder’s narrative for print (Budapest, 1791), changed the contents and coverage of Eder’s original map so drastically that it is scarcely recognizable as the source of the printed version (see figs. 56 and 57 below). One of the most noticeable editorial interventions in the original Jesuit maps has to do with the transformation of their visual identity. When printing the maps, pub-
lishers tried to make them as attractive as possible to their users and at the same time send a powerful message about the power of the organization that produced them— that is, the empire that governed that particular area. Therefore, they often added not only very attractive cartouches to maps but also various illustrations, such as paintings of the lifestyle of the native inhabitants or depictions of the martyrdom of the Jesuits who perished performing their missionary duty, thus changing the symbolism of the whole map. The specific iconography of Jesuit maps is largely the result of precisely such editorial interventions. 1.7 The Iconography of Jesuit Maps
The symbolic role of cartographic decoration can be traced through much of the history of cartography. Jesuit cartography was no exception. The way in which maps became part of a political sign system has been largely directed by their association with the elites of powerful groups.74 However diverse Jesuit maps may be in their geographical content, they are unified by their distinctive iconography. Their purpose was to maintain a positive public image for continued success. The frequent use of the monogram IHS for the Society of Jesus and figures of martyrs and saints are symbols that dominate almost all Jesuit maps produced in the pre-suppression period. The iconography of Jesuit maps is expressed on several levels: the contents of maps, settlement signs and names, cartouches, and illustrations inserted into maps. Jesuit maps, regardless of the historical and political contexts in which they were The Iconography of Jesuit Maps
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F igur e 10. Copies of one of Jose Gumilla’s sketches of the Orinoco drafted in 1732, which served as a base for his map of New Granada, published in 1741. (Library of Congress)
produced, are always a social construction, a cartographic fact that itself represents a symbol. That symbolic realism of what appears to be cartographic fact stands on its own as a symbol of political authority of both the Jesuit order and the colonial government. In that sense, Jesuit maps are always a political act or statement of power.75 Because almost every Jesuit map was a part of a written report, the maps’ symbolism needed to be especially magnified, for their role was to validate the literal truth of the text. Moreover, invoking their firsthand knowledge, the Jesuits proclaimed the accuracy of their maps as part of their exclusive authority. Jesuit maps regularly praise the achievements of the Jesuit order as well as their role in maintaining colonial power in the New World. Through their maps, the Jesuits claimed territory not only for the king but also for the order. Regardless of whether they showed the Jesuit province with its missions (e.g., the 1683 map of Tarahumara by Ivan Rattkay), or strove for the physical geographical features of a terrain on which a missionary community was being developed (e.g., the 1756 map of the Banda Oriental by Tadeáš Xaver Enis, and the 1747 map of the Orinoco basin by Bernardo Rotella), Jesuit maps were designed to display both the territorial power of the sovereigns and the Christianization of the region. Their symbolic messages are partially hidden behind the colonial discourse on the human geography of the region, which is most often reflected in the silence of Jesuit maps in regard to the native nations and their settlements. The exclusion of any trace of the indigenous groups living in the region, such as their settlements,
Figur e 11. Section of Jose Gumilla’s map of New Granada published in 1741, adjusted to the same orientation as his sketch. ( John Carter Brown Library)
temples, or sacred places, represents the way in which Jesuit maps were used to legitimize the colonizing state’s power. Any human landscape that was not under the control of the colonial power went unremarked. That kind of political silence comes from the idea that knowledge is power, and it is widespread in the official cartography of the early modern period.76 Accordingly, even when native settlements of unbaptized population are marked on the map, they are designated as barbarian villages The Iconography of Jesuit Maps
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that need to be civilized by Europeans, or even as “infidel.” Highlighting the locations of martyrdom, as well as numerous devastated and abandoned missions (marked by a special sign— a broken or turned cross), emphasizes the inevitable role of the Jesuits in maintaining territorial control over the region. At the same time, the occasional inclusion of economic categories, such as gold mines (such as Gilg’s 1692 map of Sonora), farms, and ranches (as appear on many of the Paraguayan maps), clearly speaks to the Jesuits’ direct involvement in the local economy and praises their contribution to the financial success of the colonial power. Jesuit maps use a specific symbols in regard to cartographic signs as well. Spanish cities are usually represented by the iconic symbol of a church, symbolizing the connection of the conquest of political space with the ecclesiastical mission, as well as the close relationship between the king and the Catholic Church. Jesuit missions are usually marked with a circle with a cross on it, which again symbolizes the Church, distinguishing them from native settlements of unbaptized inhabitants, which are marked with a small circle or dot. When designated, missions of other denominations are also marked with an ordinary sign (usually a small circle) without a cross, or only textually. By using the iconic symbol of a cross to mark only the Jesuit facilities, cartographers send a clear statement: other orders may be present in the region, but the Jesuits are the exclusive representatives of power who connect the conquest of political space with an ecclesiastical mission (for example, Gumilla’s 1741 map of New Granada). Depending on the political context, mili46
tary installations occasionally appear on Jesuit maps as well (such as on some of Kino’s maps of Pimería). The place-names on Jesuit maps also offer obvious examples of the way in which the image of land is written using the terms of colonial power. Labels that filled unknown territory represent the visual dimension of possession. Even types of script become a powerful visual alphabet that underlined the larger significance of the map’s visual iconography.77 Spreading the toponyms across the map (such as by spacing the letters far apart) is equivalent to claiming territory. Numerous place-names introduced by the Jesuits, mostly taken from European and/or Christian culture, tended to erase precolonial place-names and impose new ones, revealing the political dimension of such process of naming or renaming. By renaming places, whole strata of ethnic identity are swept from the map. In the process, Europeanized placenames become one more visual dimension of possession. Yet, the Christianization of place-names on Jesuit maps was a gradual process. Most seventeenth-century Jesuit maps still reflect the original, native toponymy, making them an important source for the reconstruction of original local placenames (such as in the early Jesuit maps of New France and Moxos). Some of the Jesuit maps include cartouches, usually printed ones, as an important part of their iconography. This decorative element also reflects the political and cultural colonial discourse, adding an additional visual accent to the political frame within the territory that is mapped. They are not there just as decoration but to re-
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inforce the iconography of the whole image of space. However, Jesuit maps preserved as autographs show that manuscript originals generally did not contain cartouches or any other decorative elements. Jesuit cartographers in the field were less interested in decoration and cartographic iconography and more in the exactness of the map. Certainly, there were some exceptions— for example, when the cartographer planned to send a copy of his map to an influential person. In that case, they would supplement their maps with appropriate cartouches with a dedication and the symbols of royal power and/or the Society of Jesus. One such example is Konščak’s 1746 map of Baja California, which was made to be sent to the Spanish king as the definitive proof that it was a peninsula (see fig. 43 below). Kino’s map Teatro de los trabajos apostólicos de la Compañia de Jesús en la América Septentrional (Theater of the Apostolic Efforts of the Society of Jesus in North America), dated 1696 and made to be sent to the Mexican viceroy, was also decorated with an appropriate cartouche (see plate 4). A beautiful cartouche ornamented one of Fritz’s autographs of the Río Marañon (1691) that was brought to France by the French explorer Charles Marie de La Condamine and deposited in the king’s library. In all these cases, the cartouche is simple, decorated with floral elements and the discreet monogram of the Society of Jesus. An exception is Nentwig and Middendorff ’s map of Sonora (1764), which is richly decorated not only with military symbols, such as cannons, armor, military flags, and tents, evoking the war with the Pimas, but also with agricultural scenes, alluding to its importance for
the survival of missions located in Sonora’s uncertain climate (fig. 12). A comparison of autograph copies with their printed (and edited) versions confirms that the iconography of Jesuit maps is largely due to editorial interventions. Editors who were preparing maps for publication were more concerned with their visual impression and with the political connotations that such maps would provide to plenipotentiaries as well as to the general public. In that regard, it is important to note that the editing of maps was usually carried out in Europe by editors or illustrators who were not familiar with the regions depicted. Inspired by Jesuit reports and memoirs, editors tried to illustrate the maps with iconography that they found appropriate and that comported with their vision of the New World. One of the most interesting and most telling editorial transformations was of Samuel Fritz’s map of the Amazon. From the autograph version of 1691 with its simple cartouche, Juan de Narváez, an editor in Quito, developed the printed edition of 1707 into a highly decorated map that contained no fewer than three powerful allegorical illustrations covering a considerable portion of the map (fig. 13). In contrast to his autograph, which was prepared for more practical purposes, the printed version was compiled to be sent to King Philip V at the peak of the War of the Spanish Succession. This specific historical context required specific iconography. The first illustration is an allegory that represents the unity of religious and royal power: the coat of arms of the Spanish monarchy is surrounded by four human figures. The first figure placed The Iconography of Jesuit Maps
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F igur e 12 . Cartouche of Juan Nentwig and Bernhard Middendorff ’s map of Sonora (1764). Prepared in the aftermath of the Pima uprising, it bears symbols of military power. The illustration of a Sonoran holding a measuring device thematizes the native contribution to Jesuit geographical knowledge. (British Library)
right to the coat of arms plays a trumpet announcing “In omnem Terram,” symbolizing the spread of Spanish domination over the New World. The figure to the left of the coat of arms symbolizes the Church and carries a shield emblazoned with the emblem of the Society of Jesus from which luminous rays emanate, presenting the enlightenment brought by the faith. The rays appear to be 48
vanquishing a third figure holding in his hands the sun and the moon, the symbols of Amerindian paganism. The fourth figure is an Indian who holds the whole coat of arms with his bare hands. Based upon this representation and the position of each figure within the framework of Fritz’s discourse, we can read the message as: the Indian is the element sustaining the Spanish
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F igur e 13. Three powerful cartouches enforcing Samuel Fritz’s map of the Amazon in the printed edition of 1707. (Biblioteca Nacional do Brazil)
Empire, an empire that is expanding all over the Earth by means of the work of the Society of Jesus.78 The second cartouche, which bears the title of Fritz’s map, also makes a strong statement about the reliability of the map: “Map of the Great River Marañon or of the Amazon— a region of Jesuit missions that was compiled by Samuel Fritz, longterm missionary of the region, by gaining credible information.”79 The third ornate cartouche frames the flattering dedication to the Spanish “King Philip V . . . Eternal Sovereign, Patron and Maintainer of the Jesuit Missions of the Province of Quito.”80 Together the three cartouches reinforce the political discourse of the map. Similar editorial transformations can be noticed on Konščak’s 1746 map of Baja California, printed in 1757 with the title Mapa de la California. The mapmaker’s original title cartouche with the Jesuit monogram, seen on the 1746 autograph copy sent to the Spanish king, was deemed inadequate for its printed edition. The map editor Pedro Maria Nascimben, who prepared the printed version of the Konščak map for Venegas and Burriel’s Noticia de la Califor-
nia, supplemented the presentation with a new cartouche that was meant to appeal to a different audience (see fig. 45 below). The title still states that the map shows the Jesuit province, but the cartouche is now dominated by symbols of royal power. To reinforce the impression of the region’s diversity and wealth, the editor chose to decorate the margins of the map with vignettes that included animals such as gannets or other birds, bighorn sheep, coyote, and beaver; four scenes of native Americans hunting; and religious ceremonies. The lower margin contains two larger images that depict the martyrdoms of Lorenzo Carranco and Nicolas Tamaral, pointing out the barbarism of the native population and glorifying the sacrifices made by members of the Society of Jesus to bring religious enlightenment to the Amerindians. In Jesuit iconography, martyrdom was an especially important tool in justifying the possession of the territory. The cartouche in Bernhard Havestadt’s map of Chile (1752, published 1777) is there to illustrate not only his map but also his narrative (fig. 14). The cartouche is a visual The Iconography of Jesuit Maps
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Figur e 1 4. Symbolic cartouche of Bernhard Havestadt’s map of Chile (1752) with excellent documentary elements. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
presentation of the descriptions we can read in his diary. Explaining why the monk in his cartouche wore a poncho, he said, “Missionaries in Chile wear the same dress as other missionaries of the Society of Jesus, with the exception of the mantle. According to the custom of the local people, instead of a mantle, we wear a poncho or blanket . . . as shown in the illustration in my map.” Writing about the temporary chapels they used to use, Havestadt added another image to illustrate their appearance. In his diary he elaborates: these chapels were armed with tents to garnish the movable altar used in ceremonies performed along the way, serving sometimes to both purposes: for ceremony and for lodging. The tent is shaped like a cone, under which the altar and a bed can be placed.81 Havestadt’s cartouche thus provided powerful symbolism but also had documentary value. 50
One of the most gorgeous Jesuit cartouches can be found on Carolo Brentano’s map of Quito (1751), edited by Giovanni Petroschi in Rome (fig. 15). The cartouche is surmounted by a veritable pageant of allegory, dominated by the Three Graces and a roundel featuring a portrait of Ignacio Visconti (1682– 1755), Superior General of the Society of Jesus at the time the map was published. It is a fairly typical representative of Baroque as well as Jesuit art of the time. By including influential figures and powerful symbols of faith and power, the author verifies the accuracy of the map as well as its moral correctness. Similar iconography can be seen on José Quiroga’s map of Paraguay (Rome, 1753), engraved by Ferdinando Franceschelli (see fig. 70 below). In this case, the central figure of the cartouche is a woman (an allegorical symbol of the Church) holding a chalice
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F igur e 15. Baroque cartouche on Carolo Brentano’s map of Quito (1751), printed in Rome by Giovanni Petroschi and engraved by Domenico Cigni. (Courtesy of Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps)
with the host in one hand and an oval with a portrait of Spain’s King Ferdinand VI in the other, invoking a close relationship between royal power and the Church. Illustrations inserted into Jesuit maps are an even more direct statement than cartouches, for most of them are devoted to the presentation of martyrdom and the evangelization of the natives. The oldest Jesuit map valorizing the theme of martyrdom was Francesco Bressani’s map of New France, published in Italy in 1657. An illustration of an enlightened native family praying under the cross fills the upper left-hand corner of the map (fig. 16). As a counterpoint to the illustration of the praying family, the editor inserted a large image in the lower right-hand corner that takes up about a quarter of the map (fig. 17). It is a vivid
representation of the martyrdom of two Jesuit priests, Jean de Brébeuf and Gabriel Lalemant, and was probably inspired by an engraving by Grégoire Huret— a shocking image that was adopted by many artists. By projecting a pictorial representation of this tragic event into the grid of Euclidean space, Bressani universalized the theme of martyrdom. This powerful iconography presents the whole of New France as a theater in which the forces of good and evil contend for the possession of the land.82 Scenes of martyrdom are often used on Jesuit maps of the Spanish provinces. The map of Moxos (1713), which accompanied Francisco de Rotalde’s request for additional financial support for the Moxos missions, is richly decorated, giving the map the additional power of persuasion. The The Iconography of Jesuit Maps
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Figur e s 16 & 17. Illustrations of Francesco Giuseppe Bressani’s map of New France (1657). He was the first to thematize Jesuit martyrdom in cartography. (Österreichische Nationalbibliothek)
image along the margin of the map glorifies the Jesuits and their irreplaceable role in political control over the region. Engraved in Paris by Pierre Ganière, the map contains three allegorical presentations, of which the main one, placed along the map’s upper margin, has some intriguing symbolism (fig. 18a). In the center of the illustration 52
there are two missionaries holding a shield with the emblem of the Society of Jesus and carrying crosses, symbolizing evangelization. On both sides of the missionaries two natives lie in hammocks stretched out between a pair of trees. This iconography is difficult to interpret, since it is not possible to understand whether the natives are actu-
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F igur e 18. Illustrations along the upper and lower margins of the map of Moxos, prepared by the Parisian engraver Pierre Ganière (1713). (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
ally presented as dead or alive. If the latter, the native figures would suggest the Indians’ indolence, a frequent theme in Jesuit narratives.83 On the other hand, the message of the two illustrations along the lower margin of the map is quite clear (fig. 18b). The representation of the martyrdoms of Cypriano Baraza and Balthazar de Espinosa is accompanied by an extensive explanatory note. The realistic style of the image, which includes a great deal of detail, emphasizes the drama and also points to the natives’ malfeasance. The missionaries are shown with arrows in their backs, the illustration highlighting the manner of their deaths. Thus, besides the geographical reality, the map intends to record historical events and propagate the idea that no effort or life was spared to spread religious enlightenment. The religious enlightenment of the native population was not the only thing glorified by map iconography; illustrations featuring military victories over local
groups were also widely used. Ovalle’s 1646 map of Chile, engraved in Rome by Joan Fernándes, includes two very suggestive illustrations. The first presents a scene from the Arauco War in which the well-armed Spanish troops, supported by cavalry and artillery, easily defeated the almost unarmed indigenous warriors (fig. 19). The second concludes the story of the Arauco War: it portrays the signing of the 1641 Peace Treaty of Quillin, agreed between the Marqués de Baides, governor of Chile, and the Mapuche chief Antesignanus, which acknowledged indigenous control over the south (fig. 20). Although the Spaniards were actually forced to recognize Mapuche political and territorial independence, the treaty is presented as a victorious moment for the Spanish government. To reinforce the image of both the righteousness of their military victory and their spiritual superiority, two small but significant iconic images are added to the main illustration— in the center there is a The Iconography of Jesuit Maps
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F igur e s 19 & 20. Alonso de Ovalle’s illustrations glorify the military victory over the native population and Spanish control over the territory. The upper image shows a scene from the Arauco War, and the lower one the Treaty of Quillin, signed in 1641. The map was printed in Rome in 1646. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
Figur e 21. Adam Gilg’s presentation of the natives as a community that values family life. (© Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu)
depiction of an altar with a large cross, while the Indian religious ceremony celebrating the end of the war is presented in a scene of animal sacrifice. Illustrations, like cartouches, were the result of editorial interventions. When comparing Jesuit autographs, we find very few illustrations. In this sense, it is particularly interesting to compare how indigenous figures were pictured in Jesuit manuscript maps. In general, members of indigenous groups are not shown so often as one would expect, but when they do appear, they are represented in a very characteristic manner. In their representations, the Jesuits moved away from European stereotypes about local nations as barbarians or, at best, noble savages. Gilg’s illustration of the Seri Indians on his 1692 map of Sonora, which occu-
pies a significant part of the map, has high documentary value (fig. 21). The illustration shows in detail the physiognomy and manner of dress of the Seri people. He does not show them only as warriors or hunters: by including a woman with a child, as well as two men, in the depiction, he shows them as a community, a family, bringing them closer to the European perception of society. A small illustration from Fritz’s 1707 map, placed between the graduated scale and the framed geographical description of the region, represents several indigenous figures in two stages of their evangelization (see fig. 91 below). First comes an Indian hunting a bird, with a woman and child holding the downed prey. The larger Indian figure represents the second (enlightened) stage: the member of the local The Iconography of Jesuit Maps
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nation is now standing, and although he still wears a crown of feathers, indicating his position of authority, he is in Europeanized clothing and has a cross on his chest.84 At the same time, maps prepared in Europe, such as Nascimbien’s edition of Konščak’s Baja California, discussed above, were much more Eurocentric. His presentation of the native peoples of New Spain is full of stereotypes— all the natives are naked or only partially covered, presented as pagan hunters and murderers of the Jesuits. The same can be said of the illustration of natives on Bressani’s map. The image of the native peoples as barbarians is particularly emphasized on Ovalle’s map of Chile. His depiction of the native population as Patagonian giants, men with tails and women clothed in mud, reflects the prejudice and contempt with which Europeans regarded the native populations of the lands they ruled (see fig. 59 below). The map of Sonora by Nentwig and Middendorff (1764) mentioned earlier not only invokes the events of war but also presents another important aspect of experiencing the native Indian population: their contributions to the geographical exploration and mapping of America. Nentwig and Middendorff used an illustration of an indigenous Sonoran holding a measuring device in the depiction of the graphic scale, thus suggesting the natives’ role in the collection of geographical knowledge and the development of his map (see again fig. 12). That motif was even more directly referenced on Father Thomas Falkner’s map of South America, prepared by the English editor Thomas Kitchin (London, 1772;
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fig. 22). The title cartouche presents two people who particularly helped in the compilation of his map: the cacique Cangapol and his wife, Huennee. Although Falkner speaks of them in positive terms, the illustration of the couple is of no documentary value: the appearance of the native couple is significantly Europeanized. The woman is fully clothed, and she wears a necklace and has a scarf tied around her neck, only her bare feet and loose hair suggesting that she lives in the wilderness. Her husband is presented somewhat more authentically: only partially covered, he wears a feather on his head and holds a bow in his right hand and a spear in his left. However, the sword hangs from his waist clearly speaks to his contact with Europeans. The faces, postures, and bodies of the couple are sweetened and softened to bring them closer to a European aesthetic. This sort of adjusted reality is an affirmative ideological act serving to prepare the way for European settlement: it is not only that the presented country offers a promise of free land for Europeans to settle, but that the image offered is of a landscape in which the native is silent, civilized, and cooperative. Portuguese and most of the French Jesuit maps make use of a different kind of symbolism from that used by the Spanish. The Jesuit maps of Brazil and New France emerged in a considerably stronger bond with the colonial and military authorities: they are dominated by the symbols of royal power and not of the Jesuit order. In addition, Jesuit cartographers in Brazil often had the status of royal cartographers and mathematicians (such as Domenico Capacci,
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F igur e 22 . Cartouche of Thomas Falkner’s map of South America, prepared by Thomas Kitchin (London, 1772), thematizes the natives’ involvement in mapping. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
Diogo Soares, and Ignatius Szentmártonyi), so their maps even in their purpose differ significantly from the usual Jesuit maps of Spanish provenance. Consequently, in the case of Portuguese and French Jesuit cartographies, cartouches are rare, and when they appear, they promote the king and the colonial administration and are decorated solely with the symbols of their royal dynasties (see the 1671 Marquette-Allouez map of the Great Lakes, or Soares’s 1731 map of the Río de la Plata). The emblem of the Jesuit order never appears on their maps of Brazil and New France. A similar distinction between French and Portuguese cartography on one hand and that of Spain on the other
is also valid when it comes to cartographic symbols. Even when they include a representation of Jesuit missions, the Jesuit maps of Brazil comply with the conventions of the official (military) cartography, reducing the cartographic signs for fazendas to simple circular symbols. To a great extent, this is also true of French Jesuit maps, which more frequently use the symbol of a wigwam instead of a church to mark a mission. Of course, the basic iconography of the map is the same— the glorification of the royal power, or the colonial administration— but any direct representation of the symbols of the Catholic Church or the Society of Jesus is omitted or greatly attenuated.
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1.8 The Dissemination of Jesuit Maps and Their Impact on European Cartography
Jesuit maps were not originally meant for publication. Most of them were attached to accounts and ended up in Jesuit or royal archives. Unfortunately, maps often became separated from reports and were lost, or they survived but could not be associated with their authors (accounts were normally signed, but not the maps attached to them). After being finalized, manuscript maps were usually sent to several individuals, including the viceroy and the Jesuit superior of the province, who would then forward the documents to the royal authorities in Europe (depending on which empire they were associated with), as well as to the Superior General of the Society of Jesus in Rome. After reaching Europe, most of the Spanish Jesuit maps were deposited in the Casa de Contratación and later found their way into the Servicio Hidrográfico.85 Also, copies of the Jesuit accounts (with maps, if any) would be sent to the Jesuit authorities in Rome. Portuguese Jesuit maps were regularly sent to the central colonial archive in the Lisbon— the Arquivo do Conselho Ultramarino, whose holdings were later transferred to the Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino. However, many of them, such as the 1731 maps of Colônia do Sacramento and Rio de la Plata by Capacci and Soares, remained in Brazil, as they were closely associated with military affairs. As for French Jesuit maps, they would be first sent to the order’s headquarters in Quebec and from there to the royal and Jesuit authorities in Paris. 58
Deposited in royal and Jesuit archives, most Jesuit maps remained in manuscript and were never published. However, the Spanish, Portuguese, and French Empires had different attitudes toward the possibility of publishing Jesuit narratives, and especially their maps. The main reason was, of course, the confidentiality of the data provided by these maps, which were based upon immediate field observations. Portugal certainly had the most restrictive policy toward the disclosure of any data that might contain geographical descriptions of their territory in Brazil. The Portuguese authorities sought to rigidly enforce the policy of cartographic secrecy. The ambitious project initiated by the Portuguese king, Novo Atlas da América Portuguesa, in the creation of which the Jesuits Capacci and Soares played important roles and the publication of which was supposed to contribute to a better knowledge of Brazil, was never completed and never saw the light of day. As part of Portuguese policy on the protection of data on their colonial possessions, almost no Jesuit map of Portuguese provenance was ever printed (other Portuguese larger-scale maps or those intended for military purposes also generally remained in manuscript).86 France certainly had a more liberal approach to data disclosure. It began to systematically publish the Jesuit reports earlier than the other two countries, yet most of their reports were published without their corresponding maps. Spain, which, like Portugal, also considered geographical knowledge of its overseas possessions confidential, still tolerated the occasional publication of the Jesuit reports or their maps. Yet, unlike France, Spain never
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launched its own edition to systematically disseminate the knowledge of its overseas possessions, instead publishing the data only sporadically in works of French and German provenance. The most efficient dissemination of Jesuit geographical knowledge was enabled through their coordinated publishing service, which served as an important vehicle of propaganda for the Society.87 The earliest vehicle for geographical information was the published annual reports, known as Litterae Annuae. Launched as a printed series in 1583, the Litterae provided basic information on Jesuit activities in their provinces around the world.88 These reports were heavily edited, testifying to an enormous administrative effort, but still made possible the transmission of firsthand geographical information from Jesuit missionaries overseas. This early geographical knowledge in the Litterae Annuae soon found its way to the European maps of the New World. The appearance of some of the earliest presentations of the American interior and its indigenous peoples coincided with certain volumes of the Litterae (for instance, the early maps of the Province of Paraguay by Blaeu and Hondius). The second group was made up of Jesuit relations. Written as reports for their order, the Jesuit relations were constructed as narratives that were sometimes accompanied by maps. They were published annually and comprised narratives covering the most important events in the province. Although publicized as compilations of original field letters and eyewitness testimonies, these reports were heavily edited: the missionaries’ original reports were transcribed and
altered several times before their publication, first by Jesuit overseers in the Americas and then again by the Jesuit governing body in Europe. The purpose of the Jesuit relations, in addition to promotion of the Society in general, was to raise funds for the missions and attract new settlers to the colonies. The editions that contained the Jesuit reports soon became part of the regular dissemination route for both geographical knowledge and the cartography of the regions explored. France was the first to establish this method of promoting Jesuit achievements. The chronicles of the Jesuit missions in New France, printed under the title Relation de ce qui s’est passé en la Nouvelle France (1632– 73), are the oldest such edition. The volumes were issued annually from the press of Sébastien Cramoisy in Paris.89 After Cramoisy’s death in 1669, its publication was continued by his grandson, Sébastien Mabre-Cramoisy, until 1673, when the series was terminated (this edition, titled The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents, was much later, being edited and published in English by Reuben Gold Thwaites starting in 1896). Cramoisy is credited with publishing the first Jesuit map within an edition of the Jesuit relations. This was the famous map of the Great Lakes by Allouez and Marquette, published with Dablon’s accounts of 1670 and 1671 (published in 1672), and then again with Dablon’s accounts of 1671 and 1672 (published in 1673). The termination of the Relation de ce qui s’est passé en la Nouvelle France was followed by a few decades of silence, and then the French Jesuits started a new edition. The new series, titled Lettres édifiantes et
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curieuses, écrites des missions étrangères, par quelques Missionnaires de la Compagnie de Jésus (Paris, 1702– 76, 34 vols.), was a collection of reports from all Jesuit missionaries in China, the Levant, India, and the Americas. This edition was initially the responsibility of Charles Le Gobien, S.J., a trustee in Paris of the Jesuit missions in China, and beginning in 1709, of Jean-Baptiste Du Halde, S.J., who began to coordinate the collection that included the Litterae Annuae, various accounts, geographical descriptions, and maps portraying and describing the vast spaces in which the Society was active. Le Gobien and Du Halde were acknowledged for publishing Kino’s famous 1701 map Passage par terre a la California (vol. 5, 1705), the 1713 map of the Province of Moxos (vol. 12, 1717), Samuel Fritz’s map of the Amazon (vol. 12, 1717), and d’Anville’s redaction of Dávila and Machoni’s 1732 map of Paraguay (vol. 21, 1734). The great success of the Lettres édifiantes encouraged its Spanish edition as well. Between 1753 and 1757 sixteen volumes were prepared by Father Diego Davin and printed by Vidua del Manuel Fernandez in Madrid. Published under the title Cartas edificantes, y curiosas, these were translations of the French volumes. Yet, in contrast to the French edition, in the Spanish one all the maps related to Americas were folded into volume 16.90 The significance of this edition of the Lettres édifiantes did not diminish even after the suppression. A new edition of the French edition of the Lettres édifiantes prepared by Jean-Gabriele Mérigot and issued in Paris in 1780– 83; it included some of the maps published in the first edition. Der Neue Welt-Bott, a German-language 60
missionary journal that contained descriptions and annual reports concerning the New World, was published under the auspices of the Society in Augsburg and Graz from 1726 to 1761. It was a compilation of reports from Jesuit missionaries in the East Indies, the New World, and other overseas lands that were forwarded to Europe between 1642 and 1726. This collection, which was greatly indebted to the Lettres édifiantes, was later extended to include thirty-eight parts.91 The first three volumes (twentyfour parts) were collected and edited by Joseph Stöcklein. After Stöcklein’s death, his work was carried on by other Jesuits: Peter Probst brought out parts 25– 28 in 1748, and Franz Keller completed the work, issuing parts 29– 38 in 1758 and 1761. The maps published in this series included Kino’s 1702 map Tabula Californiae (published twice in vol. 2, in 1726 and 1728), an anonymous 1713 map of Moxos (vol. 2, 1726), Fritz’s map of the Amazon (vol. 5, 1726), Dávila’s 1728 map of Paraguay (vol. 16, 1730), and d’Anville’s 1733 redaction of Dávila and Machoni’s map of Paraguay (vol. 28, 1748). Although these editions of the printed Jesuit reports undoubtedly played an important role in the dissemination of the Jesuits’ geographical knowledge and cartographical achievements, they contained a relatively small number of maps relating to America. However, the fact that these were the most famous maps of America confirms the power that the Jesuit reports had when it came to the dissemination of knowledge. It should be noted, however, that the editors of these editions certainly had received more maps than they ultimately published. Some of the maps, though sent to be pub-
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lished with the report, were not included— they were either lost or deliberately omitted. A well-known example is that of Adam Gilg’s 1692 narrative, which was published in Der Neue Welt-Bott in 1726 but without the map to which the narrative directly referred. Jesuit maps, together with the corresponding reports, were published not only in editions of the Jesuit relations, but also in Jesuit chronicles. One such book, Venegas and Burriel’s Noticia de la California (Madrid, 1757), edited by Pedro Maria Nascimben, who included in it maps that were based upon the explorations of Kino and Konščak, played a very important role in the dissemination of knowledge of New Spain. Just as the book was immediately well received and quickly published in English (1759), Dutch (1762), French (1766– 67), and German editions (1769– 70), so did the explorations of the two Jesuits become widely known. The impact of these maps was so powerful that in the post-suppression period they were reissued in a number of Jesuit chronicles, such as in those by Jacob Baegert (Mannheim, 1773), Francisco Javier Clavijero (Venice, 1789), and Ignacio Pfefferkorn (Cologne, 1794– 95). When it comes to chronicles of New France, the greatest influence on the dissemination of knowledge was the French Jesuit Pierre-François-Xavier de Charlevoix’s work Histoire et description générale de la Nouvelle France (Paris, 1744). Drawing on various authors as well as upon his own observations— or, as he himself said, “based upon the manuscripts I found in the Depot des Cartes et Planes de la Marine”— Charlevoix accompanied his book with nu-
merous maps prepared by the French royal hydrographer, Jacques-Nicolas Bellin. The contents of Bellin’s maps confirm that he had full access to Jesuit sources. Many of his maps included Jesuit knowledge, but some were nothing but exact copies of Jesuit maps, such as Pierre-Michel Laure’s maps of the Saguenay River and Canada (incorporated into Bellin’s map of eastern New France). Regarding the historiography of the Province of Paraguay, the first comprehensive overview of Jesuit explorations was given in Pedro Lozano’s Historia de la Compagñia de Jesús en la Provincia del Paraguay (Madrid, 1754– 55). Only a year later Charlevoix’s chronicle Histoire du Paraguay (Paris, 1756) appeared; it was accompanied by maps prepared by Jacques-Nicolas Bellin again based on Jesuit maps, especially those by José Quiroga. Accounts of Europeans such as Jean de Thévenot (1633– 1667) also provided the Jesuits’ extensive knowledge to the reader. Thévenot’s travel compendium, published posthumously by Estienne Michallet in 1681, included Marquette’s accounts of the Mississippi expedition, accompanied by the latter’s famous map of 1673, and was thus the oldest printed edition of Marquette’s map of the Mississippi. One of the editions of Samuel Fritz’s maps found its place in Captain Edward Cook’s travel account A voyage to the South Sea (London, 1712). On the other hand, the publication of Kino’s 1701 map in the influential French academic journal Mémoires de trévoux (Paris, 1705) confirms that Jesuit geographical knowledge and Jesuit cartography in particular were understood and acknowledged as important contributions to science.92
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Some Jesuits were influential enough to be able publish their narratives and accompanying maps as their own books during their lifetimes. Such was the case with Francesco Giuseppe Bressani, who published his narrative, entitled Breve Relatione (Macerata, 1653), referring to his map of New France that was published, after a delay, in 1657. The Chilean Jesuit Alonso de Ovalle included a map of Chile in his book Historica relacion del Reyno de Chile (Rome, 1646), while José Gumilla prepared a map of New Granada to accompany his narrative El Orinoco ilustrado (Madrid, 1741). Many more Jesuit maps were published in their respective narratives in the post-suppression period, when their publication was financially backed by the Spanish crown. Bernhard Havestadt (Munster, 1777), Juan Ignacio Molina (Bologna, 1776), Martin Dobrizhoffer (Vienna, 1784), Joaquín Camaño (Faenza, 1789), and Filippo Salvatore Gilli (Rome, 1780) were among those who published their maps at that time (see section 1.9 on post-suppression cartography). Only a small number of the Jesuit maps were printed as loose sheets. Those included the maps of the Amazon by Samuel Fritz (Quito, 1707), of Paraguay by Karl Rechberg (Vienna, 1744), of South America by Thomas Falkner (Quito, 1761; London, 1772), of Paraguay by José Quiroga (1749, published in Rome, 1753), of Quito by Carolo Brentano (Rome, 1751), and of Paraguay by Dávila and Machoni (Rome, 1732). Although the printing press appeared in the Americas quite early (for example, in Mexico as early as 1539), the printing of large formats, such as loose map sheets, proved difficult. Apparently, only 62
the printing press in Quito distinguished itself by publishing at least two maps, the one by Samuel Fritz and the first edition of Thomas Falkner’s map published in 1761 (it is not known whether these two maps were printed at the same house). The printing of all other Jesuit maps was carried out in Europe. Rome distinguished itself as the main printing center for Jesuit maps: most of the maps prepared for printing were printed there, primarily thanks to the publisher and engraver Giovanni Petroschi (1715– 1766). The publication of Dávila and Machoni’s 1732 map was largely responsible for establishing Petroschi as an authority on the cartography of Latin America, granting him great authority within the Jesuit order to acquire and edit sensitive geographical intelligence. Petroschi was thus later responsible for publishing other groundbreaking Jesuit maps, such as Machoni’s map of the Gran Chaco (1733), prepared to illustrate Pedro Lozano’s narrative; Carolo Brentano’s spectacular map Provincia Quitensis (1751); and Jose Antonio de Sylverio Villaseñor y Sánchez’s map of New Spain (1746, published in 1754), which heavily relied upon information collected from Jesuit sources (fig. 23). The publication of Jesuit maps enabled the transfer of their firsthand knowledge to the wider public, so their work came to be acknowledged beyond the Society of Jesus. Once published, those maps were repeatedly used by other authors and publishers, thereby spreading information about the activities of the order, creating a sensation in readers, and responding to the public’s growing appetite for knowledge of distant lands. European commercial cartography
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F igur e 23. Map of New Spain drawn by the cosmographer Jose Antonio de Sylverio Villaseñor y Sánchez in 1746. Printed by Giovanni Petroschi in Rome in 1754, the map compiled extensive Jesuit knowledge on the region and was considered to be the first modern map of the country. (Courtesy of Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps)
was thus given an inexhaustible source of information. Numerous commercial maps prepared by Dutch, French, German, and Italian publishers were in fact reprints of Jesuit maps, often without their real authors’ being credited. However, the use of Jesuit printed maps as a template from which other maps were produced was not the only way in which European cartography benefited from Jesuit knowledge. Very often original (unpublished) Jesuit narratives and maps that were sent to Europe were used for the creation of a number of maps signed by distinguished European cartographers. This is particularly true in
the case of French royal cartographers. As early as the late seventeenth century, the Jesuits were admitted to the Royal Academy of Sciences in Paris and provided with special privileges. In return, they agreed to communicate their discoveries.93 The first to share their knowledge in such a way were the French Jesuits working in China; later, other missionaries who worked in the New World followed suit. As a result of this agreement, a great number of Jesuit observations were published in the Journal des sçavans and in the Mémoires de l’Académie des sciences, the official publications of the French Academy, contributing to the de-
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velopment of scientific knowledge. A very early example of that line of information can be traced in the maps prepared by Nicolas Sanson d’Abbeville (1600– 1667), a cartographer of the French king who had received a Jesuit education in Amiens. Maps of various parts of Americas published in his atlas L’Amérique en plusieurs cartes nouvelles . . . (Paris, 1657) provided extensive information about local nations and numerous missions, information that could be provided only by members of Society of Jesus. As the royal cartographer, Sanson had privileged access to official archives as well as royal approval to incorporate its information in his maps. That is especially evident in his maps of New France, of Mexico, and of Peru showing the course of the Amazon. The Venetian cartographer Vincenzo Maria Coronelli (1650– 1718), who was invited to Paris to create globes for the French king, was made royal cartographer to Louis XIV in 1681 and as a result worked in Paris for two years. He collaborated with Jean Baptiste Nolin, who went on to become the French publisher for all of Coronelli’s work, including his famous map Partie Occidentale du Canada (Paris, 1688), which relied heavily on Jesuit relations. After 1700, when the Bourbon dynasty assumed the Spanish throne, the transfer of the geographical and cartographic information gathered by missionaries in the service of Spain was to some extent facilitated by the fact that, from that moment on, some of the maps from the Casa de Contratación were also forwarded to Paris, while a smaller number of missionary maps was sent to and printed in Germany.94 As a result, a vast Jesuit sources of Spanish origin were 64
available to the French royal cartographers, who, after 1700 often held the title of official geographer to the kings of both Spain and France. Such was the case with the French cartographer Nicolas de Fer (1646– 1720), who after 1690 became the royal geographer of France and from 1711 on held the position of royal geographer to King Philip V of Spain and King Louis XIV of France. Such a position allowed him privileged access to Jesuit manuscripts, which he used widely. His maps De Californiae (Paris, 1705 and 1720) were exact copies of Kino’s map Teatro de los trabajos (1695– 96), both times published without any acknowledgment of their real author. The same privileged access was used by Guillaume Delisle (1675– 1726), a member of the French Academy of Sciences, and, from 1718 on, a royal geographer of France who issued several maps that incorporated Jesuit knowledge, such as Carte du Canada ou de la Nouvelle France (Paris, 1703), derived from French Jesuit reports on New France, or Carte d’Amerique (Paris, 1722), which included nomenclature from the 1710 map Nuevo Reyno de la Nueva Navara by Eusebio Kino. Delisle’s successor in the position of French royal cartographer, Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville (1697– 1782), was probably the first to be directly engaged by the Society of Jesus to produce maps in their name. One of the most distinguished cartographers of his time, at the age of twenty-two d’Anville was appointed royal geographer. Through his royal connections, especially Claude-Bertrand Taschereau de Linières (1658– 1746), the king’s Jesuit confessor, d’Anville soon found himself contracted to produce maps for a number of travel ac-
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counts, including those for the Jesuit order.95 D’Anville was a cabinet geographer and prolific cartographic publisher credited with preparing more than 211 maps, manuscripts, and prints, as well as 23 works on geography.96 Having worked closely with Jean-Baptiste Du Halde, he was familiar with extensive Jesuit sources. For example, he had at his disposal Kino’s manuscripts and in 1724 prepared the latter’s 1710 map of Reyno de la Nueva Navara for print. He also had access to extensive sources on the Province of Paraguay, so for the Lettres édifiantes and Der Neue Welt-Bott, he reworked the templates by Juan Francisco Dávila and Antonio Machoni. A sort of synthesis of his explorations of South America is his map Carte de l’Amérique Meridionale (Paris, 1748), which he prepared for the negotiations of the Treaty of Madrid, relying strongly upon Jesuit sources but also upon direct information received from the Portuguese ambassador, Don Luís da Cunha, thus introducing the results of Jesuit observations into official diplomacy as well.97 Another French cartographer who played a particularly important role in the dissemination of Jesuit knowledge was JacquesNicolas Bellin (1703– 1772). When compiling his Le petit atlas maritime (Paris, 1764), Bellin used a large number of Jesuit sources of French and Spanish origin— however, generally without crediting the Jesuit authors. Dutch cartographers also played a significant role in transmitting the results of Jesuit explorations in Americas. This was particularly true in the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, when Dutch cartography was at its peak. Not by chance, that
period also coincides with the domination of Kingdom of Spain (1516– 1700), which was ruled by kings from the House of Habsburg, a personal union of possessions of the Habsburg king that also included the Low Countries. Because Charles V, the Holy Roman emperor (1516– 1556), was also king of Spain, there was a direct exchange of knowledge between Spanish possessions and Antwerp, where most of the accounts were printed. Moreover, during the period of Iberian Union (1580– 1640), the Habsburg Empire also included Brazil, so the printing houses in Antwerp had direct access to vast knowledge produced in the Spanish and Portuguese realms. Such circumstances enabled Antwerp to develop its publishing services, which were especially focused on travel and exploration.98 Commercial publishers, such as Theodor de Bry, Abraham Ortelius, and Cornelius van Wytfliet, showed a strong interest in the depictions of early European expeditions to the Americas. They were able to obtain reliable information thanks to their good connections with explorers and navigators. In this regard, Antwerp was an especially important hub in the circulation of geographical knowledge between the New and the Old World. Most of the Jesuit relations circulated via the port of Antwerp, which was also the center of sixteenth-century Dutch cartography. First published in 1584, Abraham Ortelius’s map of Peru and central Mexico provided the European public with early knowledge of these regions before any of the original maps, such as those by Juan López de Velasco (1574), were published. The material, drawn from the Casa de Contratación and some Jesuit relations, rep-
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resents one of the earliest examples of the dissemination of Spanish cartographic information from the New World. Cornelius van Wytfliet, who is acknowledged as the publisher of the first atlas of the Americas, especially contributed to the dissemination of Jesuit knowledge of the New World. Some of the maps in his atlas Nouveau monde (Leuven, 1597) are supplemented with firsthand information taken from José de Acosta’s Historia natural y moral de las Indias (Seville, 1590), thus transferring these data to the wider European public. While the center of Dutch commercial cartography in the sixteenth century was Antwerp, the division of the Low Countries in 1581 and the Spanish reconquest of the southern provinces stimulated the shifting of economic activities toward the northern Low Countries, known as the Dutch Republic.99 During the Dutch Golden Age, in the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the Dutch Republic dominated world trade, conquering a vast colonial empire and operating the largest fleet of merchant ships in the world. The establishment of the Dutch East India Company in 1602 (VOC), followed by that of the Dutch West India Company (WIC), established in 1621, further encouraged Dutch contributions to exploration and mapping. Establishment of the chartered companies as well the as exodus of many well-educated engravers and publishers from the southern to the northern provinces enabled the development of the city of Amsterdam as a new center for commercial cartography. In South America, the Dutch interest in Jesuit data was not limited only to the WIC’s activities and Dutch territorial aspirations in Brazil. 66
After the Dutch Republic had invaded Pernambuco (1630– 54), they started producing high-quality maps of certain provinces of Brazil based on their own observations. Thanks to the WIC, which soon opened a hydrographic office in Recife (1630), Dutch cartographers were able to produce detailed maps of Brazil, like these of Georg Marcgrave, first published by Caspar Barlaeus (1647) but much better known from their edition by Joan Blaeu (1647 and 1662), another official cartographer of the WIC. The Dutch presence in Brazil also encouraged them to compile and distribute maps of other parts of America, especially these of Spanish possessions. The most direct engagement of Dutch cartography in the transmission of Jesuit knowledge from the Spanish provinces is reflected through the Joan Blaeu’s map Paraquaria vulgo Paraguay (Amsterdam, 1662– 65). This map is a compilation based upon Jesuit information and is dedicated to Vincenzo Caraffa, a Superior General of the Society of Jesus (1646– 1649), as a direct acknowledgment of the Jesuits’ role in the compilation of this map. Like French and Dutch cartographers, German geographers also had a significant role in the dissemination of Jesuit knowledge. Many Jesuits who worked in the lands of the Spanish crown had been educated at German Jesuit universities. After leaving for America, a number of them continued to correspond with their professors, sending them data from their explorations. Especially distinguished among them was the German Jesuit Heinrich Scherer (1628– 1704), a university professor also known as a mentor to Eusebio Kino. Scherer taught Hebrew, math, and ethics at Dillingen. He
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served as tutor to the princes of Mantua and Bavaria. He was the prototype of the Jesuit who made up the intellectual elite of the order and entered the circles of power. For the purpose of his work, Scherer compiled extensive geographical knowledge obtained from the Jesuit reports, including those by Kino, and from the latter’s 1685 map, which he published in his Atlas Novus forms a singularly unusual, almost revolutionary work in terms of the development of European mapmaking at the beginning of the eighteenth century. His atlas, which consists of 180 maps in seven volumes (Geographia Naturalis, Geographia Hierarchica, Geographia Politica, Tabellae Geographicae, Atlas Marianus, Critica Quadrapartita, and Geographia Artificialis) and was published in Munich between 1702 and 1710, was designed to be a vehicle for spreading the glory and scientific excellence of the Society of Jesus. One of the most specific maps that clearly reflects his discourse is a world map titled Societas Iesu Per universum mundum diffusa Praedicat Christi Evangelium, which presents the expansion of his order in the world (plate 2). By avoiding the use of a conventional map projection like Mercator’s and choosing instead an unusual polar projection centered on the North Pole, he skillfully highlighted the global character of the Society and its connectivity, in which Europe is just one part of a much bigger community.100 In contrast to his French colleagues, Scherer regularly noted the sources of his information. Devoted to the Jesuit order and their achievements in the New World, Scherer reinforced the power of his maps by using the highly decorative iconography that promoted the Cath-
olic Counter-Reformation and the Society of Jesus, thus faithfully transmitting not only the contents but also the symbolism of his Jesuit sources.101 Scherer fills his maps with the images of vibrant religiosity, Jesuit saints and Madonnas, with a world divided between darkness and light, between the Protestant heathen and the true believer. Jesuit maps and relations continued to be used as the main source for European commercial cartographers until the suppression of the order. The rare military maps produced in the first half of the eighteenth century, as a rule, remained in manuscript form and were seldom available to commercial cartographers. Thus, the vast Jesuit correspondence and missionary accounts, accompanied by their maps, constituted a major database that enabled European cartographers to produce maps of the Americas without visiting the continent. By transferring Jesuit knowledge, European cartographers additionally reinforced the intellectual impact the Society had, making their legacy even more visible. Thanks to the Jesuit efficient system of reporting and their vivid publishing service, which ensured the dissemination of information, cosmography that was directly related to their religious conceptions became prevalent in both the New and the Old World. 1.9 Changing the Discourse: PostSuppression Jesuit Cartography102
The suppression of the Society of Jesus abruptly put an end to the work of the Jesuits in Americas. The suppression, first proclaimed in Portugal and its overseas colonies in 1759, had the most serious Post-Suppression Jesuit Cartography
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consequences for the Jesuit order in that country. It is estimated that some 1100 Jesuits were expelled from Portugal and its overseas properties, of which about 250 remained detained in Portuguese prisons for years.103 Those who managed to leave Portugal sought shelter in the Papal States. Living in exile, former Jesuits from the Portuguese crown lands apparently did not continue their cartographic production. When, in 1764, the suppression of the Jesuit order was also proclaimed in the crown lands of France, the Society was dissolved, but, unlike Portugal, their former members were allowed to stay in France. However, because already at the beginning of the eighteenth century the number of the Jesuits who remained in New France was extremely small, their cartographic production ceased long before the formal dissolution of the order. The suppression in Spain and in the Spanish colonies, declared in 1767, was the last of the expulsions. However, there was considerable difference in the way the suppression affected the Jesuits of the Spanish crown. Although they were expelled from their American missions and forced to live in exile, even after the suppression Spain saw potential in the former members of the Society of Jesus. In order to persuade the Vatican to accept some 4,500 Jesuits exiled from the Spanish missions, the Spanish crown offered compensation to each displaced Jesuit, whereupon numerous cities agreed to grant them asylum. Eventually they doubled the amount of support for those Jesuits who were ready to publish their accounts, in which they would speak affirmatively of the Spanish crown. For the expelled Jesuits, this new form of service 68
represented not only the possibility of at least some sort of rehabilitation, but also provided significant means to supplement their modest income, which inspired many of them to continue their scholarly activities. For the same reason, in the case of the Spanish Jesuits, the suppression did not mean the end of the Jesuit cartography of Spanish America. Many of the Jesuit scholars and mapmakers continued their work, mostly in the Italian- and German-speaking countries. The Italian peninsula, which became home to thousands of Jesuits expelled from their South American missions, proved to be a particularly good environment for Jesuit scholars. Encouraged by the liberal cultural climate there, but also by Spanish financial support of the publication of their accounts, many Jesuits in Italian exile began to produce extensive writings.104 That Spanish offer became especially tempting once Pope Clement XIV banned the order in the Papal States (1773). Maria Theresa reluctantly followed suit in 1773, and the Holy Roman and Hapsburg Emperor Joseph II officially issued the Secularization Decree in 1782. The result was closure of the domestic missions across the rest of Europe. Lacking status and a stable source of income, for Jesuits the writing of accounts became a lucrative business. Eventually they resulted in numerous Jesuit books published in Italian countries, some of them accompanied by maps. Another important regime receptive to the expelled Jesuits was the Habsburg monarchy (including the Holy Roman Empire, then subordinated to the Habsburgs). Owing to the protection of Maria Theresa
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(1740– 80), the Jesuits continued to play an important role in the public life of the monarchy, especially in education and science, until as late as 1773.105 Accordingly, upon their expulsion from the Spanish realms, the Jesuits from the German assistancy mostly returned to the countries of their origin where they continued to work as pastors, scholars, or educators. Although their order was also suppressed in all Habsburg lands in the papal brief Dominus ac Redemptor (1773), the former Jesuits continued their activities in these lands after that date. Secured by pensions, they took the opportunity to continue their careers outside of the banned order. Thus, the suppression in the German-speaking countries marked the end of Jesuit dominance in public life but not in their scholarly activities, and some of them were renowned cartographers. Compiled in a delicate period of political tension between the Vatican and Spain, the post-expulsion Jesuit maps published in the Italian- and German-speaking countries skillfully balanced between positions desirable for the Spanish crown and also those advantageous to the pope. Thus, the juxtaposition of pre- and post-expulsion Jesuit maps allows us to perceive clearly the impact that the suppression of the order had on their view of the world as well as on their vision of themselves in the world. A certain change in missionary discourse is clearly visible on most of the post-expulsion Jesuit maps. Just like the maps produced before the suppression, the post-expulsion Jesuit maps presented their (now former) mission areas and were based upon firsthand knowledge gathered during their missionary work in
the field. They continued to focus on the presentation of missions and problems related to evangelization. However, because their authors were no longer representatives of power, the significance and symbolism of their maps were now greatly altered. Because they were now prepared under conditions of financial hardship, the decoration of maps with illustrations or rich cartouches was no longer possible. Maps were simple, lacking (for the most part) embellishment, especially those that could have been understood as glorifying the suppressed order. Still, even then the Jesuits demonstrated a certain consistent respect for principles: not only did they leave out the cartouches and ornaments that could have been associated with their own former power, they just as consistently avoided the symbols of the Spanish crown that had expelled them and banned their work. The most obvious feature of the postexpulsion maps is their complete omission of symbols of the Jesuit order. Although in their narratives former members of the order speak openly about their activities as Jesuit missionaries and about the history of numerous missions they had founded there before the suppression, their maps do not mention the Jesuits or the order at all. Their former missions, which, in the meantime, were taken over by members of other denominations, especially the Franciscans, are now only marked on maps as missions or reductions, with no attribution to a specific religious order. The missions thus marked do not suggest in any way that these are actually the former Jesuit missions, but they also avoid mentioning that, in the meantime, they were taken over by members of Post-Suppression Jesuit Cartography
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other orders. The authors of maps also no longer sign their maps as missionary Jesuits, but neutrally as monks or pastors. The sites of the various Jesuit martyrdoms almost disappear from Jesuit maps as well. This was, of course, a kind of self-censorship that allowed the Jesuits to survive. Yet, when it comes to their manuscript maps produced in the post-suppression period, this selfcensorship is not present. Therefore, the removal of Jesuit symbols and traces in the region that would have pointed to their missionary heritage was carried out as part of the preparation of post-suppression maps for print. The mention of Jesuit missions in the text was acceptable, but the marking of these same settlements as Jesuit missions on a published map (even in the past tense) might have been understood as a pretension to their return, or even as the glorification of the order that had just been suppressed and accused of a plot against the king’s life. This difference clearly documents a different understanding of the facts presented in a text and on a map. A map is a stronger message than a text and as such politically more dangerous, so its censorship had to be stronger than the censorship of the narrative itself of which the map was an integral part. Significant in this regard is also the fact that not one post-suppression Jesuit map was published as a loose sheet; such maps were published only within their narratives, folded among the pages and hidden by the book’s cover. When comparing post-expulsion Jesuit maps produced in Italian- and Germanspeaking countries, one notices a clear difference in their discourse. The Jesuits
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in the Papal States were in a more difficult position because they constantly had to oscillate between staying in the good graces not only of the pope, but also of the Spanish king, which resulted in much stronger self-censorship of their maps. For example, when Filippo Salvatore Gilii prepared his map of Orinoco (Rome, 1780), he decided to highlight the physical geography of the region to emphasize its importance in terms of economic resources, leaving human geography, a much more sensitive issue, in the background (see fig. 101 below). This, however, only refers to the maps published in their printed narratives. Though a much larger number of the expelled Jesuits were active in Italian-speaking countries than in German-speaking ones, it was more difficult for the Jesuits in Italian exile to publish their works, so a significant portion of the post- suppression Jesuit maps, though prepared for publication, remained in manuscript. These manuscript originals reveal to us an entirely different, uninhibited discourse. The manuscript maps by José Cardiel address the sensitive issue of Jesuit landholdings in the Paraguay and Guaraní missions after the Treaty of Madrid— without, however, mentioning the Jesuits as its agents (see figs. 74– 76 below). José Sánchez Labrador’s manuscript maps (Ravenna, ca. 1772) show even more freedom: he speaks openly about the Jesuit missions and uses Jesuit symbols (see figs. 77– 79 below). The German-speaking countries, which, under the influence of Maria Theresa, had a more tolerant attitude toward the Jesuits after the suppression of the order, were not
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so strongly censored. That enabled the former Jesuits to have a freer relationship to the use of symbols on their maps after 1773 as well. The first edition of a Jesuit narrative furnished with a map after the 1773 suppression of the order, which was published in Münster in 1777 by Bernhard Havestadt, testifies to a complete absence of censorship. His map of Chile was published without any intervention, and thus included a representation of the Jesuit missions and a cartouche with an illustration of a Jesuit missionary (see fig. 60 below). Havestadt’s map is the most striking (and perhaps the only) example of a complete absence of censorship in the post-suppression period. However, this kind of freedom did not apply to all maps published in the German-speaking countries. When Martin Dobrizhoffer published his maps of Paraguay (Vienna, 1784), he was more cautious. Although in his narrative Dobrizhoffer openly paid tribute to Jesuit contributions in the development of the region, on his map he omitted the mention not only of the former Jesuit presence, but also of the Franciscans who took over most of their former missions (all missions were neutrally designated as pagum) (see fig. 84 below). After the death of Maria Theresa, the social climate in the Habsburg monarchy was increasingly less well disposed toward the Jesuits, so after 1780 the publishing activities of the former Jesuits were directed more toward other Germanspeaking countries. The post-suppression maps compiled by Creole Jesuits show some specific features. The expelled Jesuits of Creole descent who, along with the non-Creoles,
found themselves in Italian exile lost not only their former missions but also their own homeland. This led them to emphasize the need to maintain their own identity, which they were trying to express through their scholarly work as well. Although most of them, including Juan Ignacio Molina on his map of Chile (Bologna, 1776) and Joaquín Camaño on his map of Gran Chaco (Faenza, 1789), expressed their nostalgia for their homeland only through discreet symbols and hidden messages, some spoke more openly. Juan de Velasco’s map of Quito (unpublished until 1841) glorified both the merits of the Jesuits and the rootedness of Creole identity as the foundation of the future nation (see plate 30). Despite the exiled Jesuits’ lively activities, the influence of post-suppression Jesuit cartography on European cartography and science in general was minor. At the time of the suppression, Jesuit science was far from being as significant as it had once been, and Jesuit curricula were not so progressive. Nevertheless, individual Jesuits were still producing extraordinary works. This is best illustrated by the fact that many articles contained in the famous Encyclopédie were derived and sometimes even taken verbatim from works by Jesuit priests.106 Diderot included some of the most well-known Jesuit maps in his edition as well, such as Kino’s map of California and Konščak’s map of Baja California (see plate 12 below). However, the Jesuit maps of the post-suppression period were less renowned than those that had been compiled before suppression. In fact, a stagnation in geographical knowledge can be seen in Je-
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suit cartographic works created after 1767. After the Jesuits left for Europe, newer official colonial maps were no longer available to them, especially not those of a military character or resulted from recent expeditions. As sources for their maps published in Europe in the post-suppression period, Jesuit cartographers used almost exclusively maps and reports of their fellow Jesuits dating back to 1767. Undoubtedly aware of the growing obsolescence and insufficiency of their data, and pressed by the increasingly popular competitive editions of commercial cartography, the Jesuits openly criticized the editions of European cartography. To highlight the credibility of their maps, Jesuit cartographers in exile invoked their empirical knowledge, because that was exactly what gave them an advantage over other European scientists. Therefore, postsuppression Jesuit maps were based upon a radical criticism of the existing maps produced by non-Jesuit explorers and travelers and were conceived as an explicit counterdiscourse to the existing one. Pointing to the fact that only maps created on the basis of firsthand knowledge and personal testimony could have a true scientific foundation, they tried to secure precedence over the ever more numerous maps of European travelers and explorers. Thus eliminating the European editions as unreliable, they relied solely on their own sources. It is known that former Jesuits from the Spanish realms organized an informal network of mutual support to enable the exchange of knowledge necessary for their map production. However, even this group was not free from internal conflicts.
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For example, Camaño strongly criticized José Quiroga’s mapmaking achievements as simplified geography, learned in a hurry from his midshipmen. On the other hand, he greatly appreciated the work of Sánchez Labrador, Buenaventura Suárez, and José Cardiel. The tensions between some of the Jesuits in exile were more than obvious, and some Jesuits chose either to use or to ignore certain sources. The reluctance of Jesuit cartographers to improve their research results with new results of scientists outside their circle, as well as their mutual competition, made the lagging behind of their maps increasingly pronounced. Geographical errors, even in the siting of individual missions, were frequent, and the mathematical bases of the maps were in general deficient. The emergence of more and more maps of South America and its individual regions that came about as a result of commercial cartography in the late eighteenth century gradually reduced European interest in Jesuit maps. Their contents, which were based upon knowledge gathered only up to 1767, as well as their somewhat anachronistic descriptive narratives, slowly but surely became scientifically and methodologically obsolete, giving way to modern surveybased maps and texts based upon the Enlightenment and encyclopédistes. Although some of the works of Jesuit missionaries that were accompanied by maps continued to be issued until as late as the early nineteenth century, they would no longer attracted much attention from the European scientific public.107 Nevertheless, during the nineteenth century the Jesuit narratives, especially those charged with proto-
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nationalist sentiments, would once again become the focus of interest, this time in the South American countries themselves. Associated as they were with accounts of a local nature, Jesuit writings as well as their maps significantly contributed to the upsurge of a South American conscious-
ness. Within South American nationalist movements, post-suppression narratives and maps came to be affirmed as an important source for defining local identities, thus fighting against the deeply ingrained Eurocentric understanding of the New World.
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2 The Possessions of the Spanish Crown
T
he Spanish possessions in the New World were called the Kingdom of the Indies. The major divisions were the Viceroyalties of New Spain, of Peru, of New Granada (after 1717), and of Río de la Plata (after 1776). These were divided into captaincies general, presidencies, and audiencias, which in turn were subdivided into provinces. The brilliant success of the Jesuits in their pioneering work in Africa, India, and Brazil undoubtedly influenced Philip II of Spain (1556– 98) to open to the militant missionary order the vast domains of Spanish America: first Florida (unsuccessfully), then Mexico, Peru, Paraguay, New Granada, and Chile. The Jesuits who were active in the possessions of the Spanish crown did not come only from Spain; many of them came from the German assistancy.1 The great commitment of Jesuits from German-speaking countries was due to the dynastic ties between Spain and the Habsburg monarchies. The missionaries were acting under the direct protection of the king of Spain, who financed their arrival and activity. The missions were in fact directly subordinate to the Madrid court and thus became an important element of colonial politics and the protection of economic interests. They were also a crucial link between the crown and the local native American populations, with whom the missionaries were establishing cultural contacts, spreading not only the gospel but also knowledge about agriculture, medicine, and architecture in an attempt to improve the lives of the native people. It should be noted that the exchange of experience was not unilateral: the missionaries were also studying and recording the ancient knowledge and customs of the native Americans, passing them on to the European audience. The missions 75
Figur e 2 4. Alonso de Santa Cruz, presentation of New Spain from the Isolario, 1542. (Biblioteca Nacional de España)
thus functioned as a cultural meeting place where the civilizations of the New and the Old Worlds exchanged knowledge. At the moment of their arrival in the countries of the Spanish crown, the Jesuits could use existing maps that were only just beginning to sketch the contours of the American continents. Rough maritime charts or small-scale maps from cosmographies were all that the Jesuits could take with them when they started their journey to the New World. However, the Spanish authorities realized the value of mapping from the beginning of their presence in America. Actually, very few powers have so rapidly acquired as much uncharted territory as the Spaniards did. Sixteenth-century Spain initially responded to this problem by establishing a great cartographic center at Seville, called the Casa de Contratación. 76
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The nautical charts produced by the Casa de Contratación mostly focused on coastal contours. As time went by, leading members of the Spanish scientific community began to produce cartography of the inland areas of their overseas territories. Most of them were royal cosmographers authorized by Spain’s King Philip II to collect geographical information for the benefit of his empire and its colonial administration. The first of them was Alonso de Santa Cruz, a royal cosmographer in Seville, who eventually published a number of works on his discoveries and explorations. In 1542 he published a world atlas, known as the Islario, which consisted of a few hundred detailed maps, including some of the Americas (fig. 24).2 Accompanied by a full scale of longitude and latitude, Santa Cruz’s maps, although they do not show much de-
F igur e 2 5. Detail from the map of America by Diego Gutiérrez (Antwerp, 1562) containing some features of internal regions. (Library of Congress)
tail about the interior regions of the New World, represent a significant development in Spanish cartography of the Americas.3 The first important development in the cartographic presentation of the inter-
nal features of the Spanish possessions in the Americas came with Diego Gutiérrez, a cosmographer at the navigation school, who produced a map of the Americas that was printed in Antwerp in 1562 (fig. 25).4 The Possessions of the Spanish Crown
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Although Gutiérrez’s map does not show the line between Spanish and Portuguese possessions agreed to at Tordesillas in 1494, with its detail of internal regions it does represent a distinct stage in the Spanish understanding of the vast territories that they were in the process of controlling.5 The next step forward in the colonial mapping of the Spanish possessions in America was made by Juan López de Velasco. In 1571 he was appointed a royal cosmographer and instructed by Philip II to obtain as much information as possible about the overseas territories. To that end he was provided with the map collection of Alonso de Santa Cruz, which served him as important source of geographical knowledge. By compiling all existing information, including that of Santa Cruz, he produced the Rel-
aciones geográficas, which was based mainly on numerous pinturas made by a wide variety of authors. In 1574 he completed the Geografia y descripción universal de las Indias (which remained in manuscript until 1894). For that work he produced a general map of the Spanish world that was followed by a series of twelve maps that represented parts of the Spanish possessions in the Americas in greater detail, mostly by its juridical districts or audiencias (fig. 26).6 His maps are not particularly detailed, but as a whole they represent a coherent vision of the Spanish colonial enterprise; they provided a framework on which subsequent maps could have been built. The work of López de Velasco was extraordinary for its time; it would be many years before any other European cartographer could produce anything like this.7 Made just at the time of the Jesuit
F igur e 2 6. New Spain, as seen by Juan López de Velasco in 1574 in the edition of Herrera y Tordesillas from 1601. (MacLean Collection) 78
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arrival in America, although unpublished, López de Velasco’s maps testify to the existing level of knowledge of the Americas as a kind of starting point for all the early Jesuits who would start their own explorations and mapping of the Spanish possessions in the New World. Thanks to the Jesuits, European cartography would soon start to fill the gaps in the interior of the vast lands under the Spanish crown. 2.1 The Viceroyalty of New Spain
The Viceroyalty of New Spain (Virreinato de Nueva España) was the first of the four viceroyalties that Spain created to govern its conquered lands in the New World. Established in 1535, it initially included all land north of the Isthmus of Panama under Spanish control. This later came to include upper and lower California and territory eastward along the Gulf of Mexico to Florida. The Viceroyalty of New Spain was also charged with governing Spain’s Caribbean possessions, the Philippines (after 1565), and Venezuela (until 1717, when it was annexed to the Viceroyalty of New Granada). The capital of the viceroyalty was Mexico City. The Jesuits arrived in New Spain in 1566, more than half a century after the Franciscans and Dominicans and about thirty years after the Augustinians.8 Although they worked across both of the Americas, in their mapmaking, owing to different historical and political circumstances, they were not equally active in all parts of the New World.9 The cartographic activity of the Jesuits was most fully developed in those areas where the Jesuits were working
outside urban centers, as missionaries in provinces located in the little-known inland areas. In New Spain, the Jesuits were by far the most active cartographers in the area of present-day Mexico, namely in its northern borderlands, such as Pimería Alta, Sonora, Sinaloa, Tarahumara, and Baja California. Generally, we can say that as the Spanish territories expanded northward, so did the focus of the Jesuits’ cartographic activities shift toward the northern edges of the empire. Their work in the border areas of the Spanish Empire, where the Jesuits played a key role in maintaining the Spanish authority, gave their exploration and cartographic activities not only missionary but also geopolitical importance. The Jesuits also contributed to the mapping of Florida, a part of the Spanish Empire that bordered territories under the rule of the English and French crowns. The first attempt to compile a more detailed map of the whole of New Spain dates from 1691, when Carlos de Sigüenza y Góngora, a Mexican professor of mathematics and a royal cosmographer, prepared a map of the region that reflects the years he spent studying geography (fig. 27).10 This map gives the first more precise contours of the interior of the Spanish possessions in present-day Mexico and is thus considered to be the first-ever map of New Spain; it won high praise and was widely copied.11 This great map of Mexico testifies to Sigüenza y Góngora’s intimate knowledge of the region, which is the result of his many years of studying the Aztec civilization as well as European scientific techniques. As a Mexican, he was very familiar with the land. To compile this astonishing map, which inThe Viceroyalty of New Spain
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F igur e 27. Map of New Spain by Carlos de Sigüenza y Góngora, 1691. (Real Academia de la Historia, Madrid)
cludes graticules of latitude (13°30′– 30°30′ north) and longitude (268°– 292° east), he has skillfully combined data from a variety of sources, including those from Jesuit maps (e.g., early Jesuit maps of Sonora and Tarahumara) as well as his own observations. Despite some shortcomings (the presentation of the relief suffers from many errors, and the coastline is not very well delineated), the map provides geographical content absent from earlier seventeenthcentury maps. Abundant in its depiction of toponymy in both the coastal and interior
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regions, the map served as an important source of information for a very long time.12 The appearance of Sigüenza y Góngora’s map coincides with the beginning of a stronger development of Jesuit mapping that, with the arrival of Eusebio Kino, would become the most distinctive as well as the most productive branch of cartography in the territory of New Spain. Although Spanish military cartography would begin to take the first more intensive initiatives in mapping these areas in the 1720s, it would also largely rely on the achieve-
ments of Jesuit cartography. In this respect, the first major cartographic campaign in this area begins in 1724, when the Spanish crown sent Brigadier General Pedro de Rivera y Villalón to inspect the frontier defenses of New Spain.13 As a result of this visit, between 1725 and 1729 the first military map of New Spain, in six sheets, was compiled by the military engineer Francisco Álvarez Barreiro. Judging by its content and style (see the symbols for the missions), it is obvious that Álvarez Barreiro’s work was greatly facilitated by earlier missionary maps. By its appearance and content, Álvarez Barreiro’s map looks more like a missionary than a military map (for more about this map, see section 2.1.2.4). The next significant attempt at compiling a map of New Spain was made in 1746 by José Antonio Villaseñor y Sánchez, the official cosmographer of New Spain.14 The map, which heavily relies on Sigüenza y Góngora’s map, is supplemented by information Villaseñor collected from Jesuit sources (see again fig. 23). Originally compiled for his work Theatro americano (Mexico City, 1746– 48) but published separately in 1754, this map, which includes depictions of numerous Jesuit missions, testifies to the fact that official Spanish cartographers regarded the achievements of Jesuit cartography highly, regularly incorporating into their maps the results of Jesuit field explorations.15 The powerful influence of Jesuit cartography is also reflected in most eighteenthcentury military maps of New Spain. This is the case with the map based on the 1766– 68 military survey of New Spain, created during an expedition led by the Marques de
Rubí, who, accompanied by cartographers, visited the border provinces of the Spanish Empire. The detailed 1769 map of the New Spain borderland made by the military cartographers José de Urrutia and Nicolás de la Fora reflects the Spanish government’s concern during the second half of the eighteenth century about frontier defenses, especially in response to attacks of the native groups and the potential movement of European enemies into the region.16 Though the map based on original field surveys, the Jesuit influence is still clearly visible: it is refreshed and updated with new military information, but it is based on older Jesuit templates. The same applies to the cartographic compilation produced in 1767 by José Antonio de Alzate y Ramírez, a secular priest and highly regarded scientist based in Mexico City.17 His map, which appeared at the time of the suppression, when the Bourbons were collecting extensive data on natural resources and demographics in order to reform the obsolete administrative model of semiautonomous kingdoms into a highly structured colonial empire and exploit the resources of their American territories, relied heavily on the achievements of Jesuit cartography.18 Thanks to its printed editions (Paris and Madrid, 1768), the map strongly influenced the European knowledge of New Spain. 2.1.1 The Jesuit Cartographic Endeavor in Florida
The tenure of the Jesuits in the Florida mission field was a comparatively short one, but the story of their expeditions is a chapter in the history of the attempts by Spain
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to affirm its ownership of North America in the area outside of that held by sedentary native groups, whose stage of culture was best adapted to the colonial institution developed during the early days of the conquest.19 Unlike Mexico and Peru, Florida had no gold, so it was never anything but a Spanish military outpost. The Spanish colonization and missionization of Florida was undertaken in response to expanding English and French colonial projects.20 After the presidio of St. Augustine was established in 1565 as the first permanent Spanish settlement in Florida, Pedro Menéndez de Avilés, founder of St. Augustine and first governor of Florida, soon learned that retaining Spanish power in Florida would be a difficult task requiring more than a military crew stationed in the presidio— he needed missionaries who would be able to control the local nations. Thus Menéndez asked Francisco Borgia, the general of the Jesuit order, for help, requesting twentyfour missionaries to serve in Florida. Yet, owing to Borgia’s hostility to the supreme ecclesiastical power assumed by the Spanish crown, he permitted only three Jesuits to make the Florida attempt.21 In June 1566 the first group of Jesuits, consisting of Father
Pedro Martínez, Juan Rogel, and Francisco Villareal, arrived in Florida. After the martyrdom of Pedro Martínez in 1566— he was killed off the coast of Florida before he even managed to set foot on dry land— Florida missions were on the verge of complete destruction. In arranging their second attempt to settle Florida, a simple sketch delineated in 1567 by Adelantado Pedro Menéndez de Avilés had an important task.22 This rudimentary map shows Florida and nearby Cuba (fig. 28). Depicted detached from the mainland, it outlines Florida as an island. Could the author of the sketch have made such a mistake and send the Jesuits across the ocean with a completely misconception about the country they would serve? The location and contours of Florida have been well-known and shown on maps since the time of the Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de León.23 Furthermore, the author of the sketch is Pedro Menéndez, who personally visited and explored Florida. Only a closer look at the drawing reveals its true purpose: the sketch was made in an effort to show not the geography of Florida but the organization of Jesuit missionary work, which at the time relied on the service of
Figur e 2 8. Sketch showing the organization of missionary service in Florida. Compiled by Pedro Menéndez de Avilés for Father Moreau in 1567. (Facsimile from Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:3) 82
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only two Jesuits. On the west coast of Florida, at Mound Key, Father Juan Rogel established a mission San Antonio de Carlos (labeled “P. Rogel” on the sketch). Founded in March of 1567 to missionize the Calusa people, San Antonio de Carlos was of the first such missions in the Spanish New World. There was frequent conflict with the Calusa, and eventually the island was abandoned by the Spaniards in 1569. On the eastern shore of Florida, the situation was even more difficult. The mission Nombre de Dios, situated near the fort of St. Augustine, was short-lived (probably both established and abandoned in 1566), so the missionization was limited to southeastern Florida, around the mouth of the Miami River and Cape Florida, where the fort and Jesuit mission of Tequesta was established in March of 1567. The mission, led by the Jesuit Francisco Villareal, survived only until 1570, when the Spanish presence there ended (labeled “h. Francisco” on the sketch). Thus, the sketch was intended to portray the dramatic situation of Catholic missions in Florida and to convince the Jesuit leaders to approve stronger support when sending new missionaries to Florida. The sketch yielded results, and a year later, in 1568, the two missionaries were reinforced by another six Jesuits: in 1568 Juan Bautista de Segura, Gonzalo del Alamo, Antonio Sedeño, Juan de la Carrera, Pedro Linares, and Domingo Agustín arrived, and Florida was erected into a vice province, with Father Segura as its first vice provincial.24 Their missionary activities covered a swath from southern Florida to the Chesapeake Bay. Between 1568 and 1572 they made great efforts toward setting up and maintaining
the missions, but because of massive resistance on the part of the local population, all their efforts ended tragically.25 In 1572 the few surviving members of the Jesuit order left Florida and went to Mexico. No maps of Florida produced by the Jesuits from this period have been found. Nearly two hundred years later, while the conflict between Britain and Spain was in full swing, the Jesuits would once again try to establish their missions in Florida. After the English settlers in Virginia and the Carolinas had gradually pushed the boundaries of Spanish territory south, and the French settlements along the Mississippi River had encroached on the western borders of the Spanish claim, the Spanish possessions in North America were becoming more and more endangered. Tensions between Britain and Spain began to grow in 1702, when the British forces attacked the presidio of St. Augustine. Hostilities grew, escalating into a conflict known as the War of Jenkins’ Ear (1739– 48).26 Florida’s native nations, in addition to being persecuted by the British and the slave traders, particularly suffered in the conflicts. Several hundred indigenous refugees fled to Cuba in the period 1704– 60, while some remained in southern Florida.27 British raids were increasingly bringing the Spanish rule in Florida into question. In 1743, in order to maintain control of the most vulnerable part of the eastern coast, the Spanish authorities in Havana decided to establish a new settlement in Florida, with a fort in Biscayne Bay. The task was assigned to the Jesuits, who, through the establishment of a new mission, were to peacefully consolidate the Spanish rule in Florida. In June 1743 an The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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expedition of priests and soldiers was therefore ordered to sail from Havana to Florida and establish a mission.28 Two Jesuit Fathers, José María Mónaco and José Javier de Alaña, soon began a mission near Cape Florida, where they built a small fort in the shape of a triangle; they called the mission Santa María de Loreto. After everything was completed, Father Mónaco decided to stay, sending Father Alaña back to Havana to inform the Spanish authorities of their progress regarding the new Florida mission. Father Mónaco kept with him twelve soldiers and a corporal to help guard the fort. For the purposes of his 1743 maritime expedition, that is, the establishment of the new mission, José Javier Alaña drew a maritime map of the sea route between Cuba and Florida, which were separated by the dangerous coral reef of the Florida Keys (fig. 29).29 The map shows southern Florida from today’s Miami (Boca de Ratones) all the way to Key West,30 while only a glimpse of the contours of Cuba is visible along the southern edge of the chart.31 In terms of purpose, scale, and content, this maritime map is relatively detailed for the time, depicting a series of coral reefs and islands of the Florida Keys complete with depth data. Many of the keys are designated by their names: Key Biscayne, Mascaras (present-day Ragged Keys), Restinga de la Tetas (Sands Key), Cayo Largo (Key Largo), Matacumbe, Cayo de Vacas (Vaca Key), Piñales (Big and Little Pine Key), Baya Honda (Bahia Honda Key), Sambo (Sambo Key), El Chico, and De Guesos (Key West). The coral reefs in front of the Upper Keys are designated as Los Martires, the name given to the Florida Keys as 84
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a whole by Ponce de León in 1513. The map is furnished with a compass rose, a scale in French leagues (leguas francesas), and a latitude scale. The longitude is not indicated. A detailed scale and fairly precise soundings between individual islands and reefs testify to the fact that the map was based on many years of sailing experience along this sea route. In fact, the bases for the map were two maps compiled in 1742 by Juan de Liguera Antayo, a navigator on a ship of the Spanish royal navy.32 Although Alaña relied on the 1742 template, judging by correspondence between the rector in Havana and the members of the Jesuit expedition, he himself made some observations and measurements in the field, supplementing the map with new data.33 Compared to his templates, Alaña’s map is characterized by a more detailed presentation of the coral reefs, abundant place-names, and significantly improved orientation of the Keys, as well as an improved general contour of the coastline. In addition to supplementing the map with additional geographical observations, Alaña designated the locations where his ship landed (marked with an A) and the places of conversion of the local population (marked with a cross), thus unifying the navigational and missionary uses of the map. In this respect, Alaña’s maritime map represents an interesting testament to the circulation of knowledge between the Jesuits and the cartographers in the service of the Spanish navy, as well as to the Jesuits’ skills in adapting various types of maps to the needs of missionization. In spite of the relative success of the new Florida mission, in a short time the governor in Havana or-
F igur e 2 9. Map of the Florida Keys drawn by José Javier Alaña in 1743. (Archivo General de Indias)
dered Father Mónaco to get back to Cuba and destroy the fort so the enemy could not use it.34 It was the last attempt of the Spanish to establish a Jesuit mission in Florida. Thus Alaña’s maritime map of the Florida Keys soon lost its importance. Exactly twenty years later, in 1763, Spain traded Florida to Britain for control of Havana, Cuba, which had been captured by the British during the Seven Years’ War (1756– 63). 2.1.2 Mexico: Missionary Cartography of the Borderlands
After their failure in Florida, the Jesuits arrived in present-day Mexico in 1572. Initially they were active in the central region. Until 1577 there were seventy-five Jesuits in New Spain. After they founded their first house and college (Colegio Máximo) in Mexico City until 1578, they established residences in Oaxaca, Pátzcuaro, Puebla, Vera Cruz, Tepoztlán, and Morelia.35 Among the earliest Jesuits who came to Mexico was Juan Sánchez Baquero.36 He was one of the fifteen founding Jesuits who came to Mexico in 1752. According to Ernest Burrus,37 Sánchez Baquero mapped the Pacific coast from California to Panama in 1572. During 1607 and 1608, together with Enrico Martínez,38 Sánchez Baquero was involved in the drainage works of the valley of Mexico commissioned by the viceroy, Luis de Velasco. On that occasion he participated in drafting the map of the Lagunas del Valle, which surrounds Mexico City (fig. 30).39 Although the aforementioned map is signed by Enrico Martínez, several documents testify that Sánchez Baquero took an active part in the mapping.40 We 86
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should therefore consider Sánchez Baquero and Martínez coauthors of the map. Martínez and Sánchez Baquero’s map shows the lake basin of the Valley of Mexico and their project of draining the lagoon by channeling the San Cristóbal River into Lake Zumpango and from there to Huehuetoca. The explanatory table in the lower left-hand corner of the map explains the drainage works that were built. All the settlements are marked with the conventional symbols of church and cross, while the rudimentary appearance of the relief could have been influenced by pinturas. The map is oriented to the west and furnished with a scale, while the graticule of longitude and latitude is omitted (only the latitude of Mexico City is indicated as 19° north). This map testifies to the fact that immediately after their arrival in the New World, the Jesuits were involved in a wide range of engineering works thanks to their wide education, and especially their knowledge of mathematics. The maps they made were often not of a missionary but of a purely engineering nature. Many years later, some of Sánchez Baquero’s maps were given to Sigüenza y Góngora to help him delineate his chart of the lakes around Mexico City. Even after he left the Society in 1667, Sigüenza y Góngora associated with prominent Jesuits such as Eusebio Kino. By using Martínez and Sánchez Baquero’s 1608 map of the Lagunas del Valle as a template, Sigüenza y Góngora finished his own map of the same area.41 Thus, Sánchez Baquero’s initial contribution to mapping the hydrographic situation around Mexico City was echoed on the maps of official royal cartographers.42
F igur e 30. Map of the lake basin of the Valley of Mexico, compiled for the purpose of drainage works by Enrico Martínez and Juan Sánchez Baquero, 1608. (Archivo General de Indias)
As early as the end of the sixteenth century, the Jesuits began to spread their missions toward the north. Father Gonzalo de Tapia (1584– 1594) played a particularly crucial role in this regard. Soon after arriving in Mexico in 1584, he initiated the spread of the Jesuit influence far to the northwest. This spread was intensified after the European discovery of rich silver mines in Zacatecas (1546) and Santa Barbara (1567), and after the establishment of the provinces of Nueva Galicia (about 1531), which encompassed the present-day states of Aguascalientes, Colima, Jalisco, Nayarit and Zacatecas, and of Nueva Vizcaya (in 1562), as well as the
present-day states of Chihuahua and Durango, the eastern parts of Sonora y Sinaloa, and the southwestern part of Coahuila. Because the Franciscans had already assumed the main role in the evangelization of the Zacatecas area and then of New Mexico as well (starting from 1597), the viceroy of New Spain, Luis de Velasco II, directed the Jesuits’ activities toward Sinaloa.43 During the 1590s Gonzalo de Tapia, together with Father Martin Pérez, explored Sinaloa and established many missions around the Sinaloa River. After Tapia’s death, his work was continued by Peter Méndez and Hernando de Santarén, who traveled farther The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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north through Sinaloa. From 1594 to 1617 they established numerous new missions between the Sinaloa and Yaqui Rivers. The Jesuits, under Lorenzo Cárdenas, reached the Sonora River before 1635. Because missionaries moved into much of Sonora well in advance of Spanish soldiers, they were largely helpless to defend themselves in the numerous uprisings of the Sonoran native peoples, which broke out quite frequently in this region. Although the first presidio of Sonora had been established in 1595, that presidio remained the only body of professional soldiers on the northwestern frontier until the establishment of the Fronteras presidio in 1689. Until the mideighteenth century, fewer than one hundred professional soldiers defended a region that stretched from the Sierra Madre Occidental to the Gulf of California.44 There is no evidence that any of those early Jesuit missionaries of Sinaloa and Sonora produced any maps based on their own explorations. The first map providing information on the interior Jesuit missions in Sinaloa, Sonora, and Nueva Vizcaya was a map prepared by an anonymous cartographer in 1662 (plate 3). The map was attached to the visitation of Hernando de Cabero in order to illustrate a report on the northern missions of New Spain administered by the Jesuits.45 As the visitador (a person appointed by the king or Superior General to visit the missions and report back on them) and later provincial of the Province of Mexico, Cabero sent this map, along with a detailed report, to the Superior General of the Jesuits.46 This remarkable map of Sonora, Sinaloa, and Nueva Vizcaya shows the basic physical geography of the area: the courses 88
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of the Sonora, Yaqui, Mayo, Fuerte, Sinaloa, and Moscarito Rivers draining into the Gulf of California, as well as the Sierra Madre, which separates Sinaloa from Nueva Vizcaya. Part of the Río Grande del Norte is shown but not named. It has two tributaries, one without designation and the other called Río de los Cruzados Gentiles.47 In regard to the territorial organization, the mainland is divided into three areas: Sonora- Sinaloa, Nueva Vizcaya, and New Mexico, which was controlled by the Franciscans and inhabited by the unconverted Cruzados and Christian Teras (los Teras Christianos). In the area of Sinaloa, Sonora, and Nueva Vizcaya, fifty-four missions are marked as well as many names of the native groups, including the unbaptized. The missions are designated by numbers and their names; no other symbols are used. As was typical of early Jesuit maps, no Jesuit iconography is used on this map. Along the left edge of the map the contours of California are discernible, along whose eastern shores there is a note on pearl fishing (pescadería de perlas). Because Baja California is shown only in part, the map can prescind from the insular or peninsular nature of the region. The strong demarcation of the Nueva Vizcaya and Sinaloa borders by bold red line has to do with the Jesuits’ territorial disputes with the Franciscans. The activities of the Jesuits and the Franciscans overlapped in some of the peripheral areas of the provinces, and the struggle for dominance over the individual missions was escalating at the time the map was made. The dispute was finally settled by a treaty signed in Mexico City under which all the missions among members
of the Tarahumara people were assigned solely to the Jesuits, while the missions among the Conchos were assigned to the Franciscans. Still, occasional tensions between the jurisdictions of the two orders continued.48 Although it looks like a rough sketch showing nothing but missions, the 1662 map is supplemented with a coordinate grid and the names of numerous missions and many local nations, information that could come only as a result of field observation by the Jesuits. Because this map reflects the level of knowledge the Jesuits achieved regarding the geography and cartography of the region up to the mid-seventeenth century, later maps made by Kino would very closely follow the 1662 map as the main template for presenting the mainland. 2.1.2.1 Ivan Rattkay: Cartographic Pioneer of the Tarahumara Region
After Gerónimo Ramirez and Juan de Fonte founded the first Jesuit missions among the Tepehuanes in Durango in the late sixteenth century, Juan de Fonte made the first contacts with the Tarahumara people in the year 1607. The first Jesuit activities among the Tarahumara were encouraging, so the missionary region of Lower Tarahumara (Tarahumara Baja) was established within the territory of Nueva Vizcaya in 1639.49 The starting point for the missionary activity was the town of Parral, founded in 1631 after the discovery of rich silver deposits; from there the Jesuits headed north to the heart of the Tarahumara lands, located on the eastern slopes of the Sierra Madre Occidental. Situated deep in the interior, Tarahu-
mara remained almost unknown to cartographers until the mid-seventeenth century. The first mention of Tarahumara is found on the map Audience de Guadalajara, Nouveau Mexique, Californie, &c., prepared by Nicolas Sanson (Paris, 1657; fig. 31). Sanson was, in fact, the first to include the names of the local nations of present-day northern Mexico; he was the only European cartographer of the seventeenth century who was familiar with Tarahumara (either as a region or as an ethnonym). The first map providing some more specific information on the Tarahumara region was the aforementioned map prepared in 1662 by an anonymous Jesuit cartographer, which noted the names of the Tarahumara and several Jesuit missions established among them. Another pioneer of Jesuit cartography in the Tarahumara region was the Croatian Jesuit Ivan Rattkay.50 After completing his training at the Jesuit College in Graz in 1678, Rattkay decided to become a missionary in Mexico.51 While waiting for a ship that would take him to America, Rattkay, together with Eusebio Kino, spent two years in Seville, where he could further develop his skills in geography and cartography. Finally, in July 1680 Rattkay sailed off to Mexico along with eleven other missionaries (Kino was not to set sail until January 1681). On his way to Mexico, in late October 1680, Rattkay made observations of a comet appearing in the constellation Virgo (Spica Virginis). His description of its movement testifies to his knowledge of astronomy as well as to his skill in determining the positions of celestial bodies.52 This fact may support the hypothesis that, apart from a compass, Rattkay also had other instruThe Viceroyalty of New Spain
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F igur e 31. Map by Nicolas Sanson (Paris, 1657), the first that included knowledge of the local nations of present-day Mexico, including the Tarahumara. (MacLean Collection)
ments at hand that he was able to use when compiling his map. During his three-year stay as a missionary in Mexico (1680– 83), Rattkay visited almost every village in the Tarahumara region, and in March 1683 he compiled a detailed description of this northern Mexico region, including its peoples and customs.53 The narrative was accompanied by a manuscript map based on his own field observations and measurements (fig. 32).54 No reference to the map was made in the re90
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port, only a short note at the beginning of the text, saying that, to provide a better understanding of the text, a map was attached to the report. Rattkay’s map appeared in a specific historical context when, after the great rebellion of the Tarahumara (1650– 52), a decision on the exploration of the upper parts of the Tarahumara lands and on the expansion of the missions was made in 1673. As early as the following year, an expedition was organized and led by José Tarda and
F igur e 32. Tarahumara region on the map drawn by Ivan Rattkay, enclosed in his report of 1683. (© Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu)
Tomás Guadalajara, who established a series of new missions in the north, including, among others, Yepómeran (1674), San Bernabé Cusihuiriachi (1674), Cárichic (1675), and Tutuaca (1676). Finally, in 1678, the missionary area of Upper Tarahumara (Tarahumara Alta) was officially established.55 Nearly two years later Rattkay came to Tarahumara as a missionary and explorer; he would go on to compile all the geographical knowledge of Upper and Lower Tarahumara of the time and present it on the first regional map of the area. To that effect, Rattkay’s map should be viewed as a kind of summary of the knowledge that was gained by the Jesuits throughout the re-
gion, or the inventorying of missions that were restored or established after the rebellion of the Tarahumara calmed down. Unfortunately, Rattkay’s reports did not contain any reference either to the origin of the map or to the instruments used in its compilation. The descriptions of the terrain provided in his 1683 report were very general and, other than mentioning the major missions and the distances between them, contained relatively little geographical information. Like the map of 1662, Rattkay’s is an example of early Jesuit cartography. It displayed the entire Tarahumara region, including the surrounding areas, from La Bocas (present-day Villa Ocampo) in the The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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south to the presidio of Casas Grandes in the north. The map is accompanied by a graticule of longitude and latitude (271°– 276° east, 33°– 28° north), without, however, any indication of the prime meridian used. The latitude has an error of about 2°, while the longitude has an error of about 2° if Ferro was used as the prime meridian or about 3° if Tenerife was used. On the righthand edge of the map there is a linear scale given in Spanish miles (miliaria Hispánica). Converted into the metric system, the map was prepared at a scale of approximately 1:12,000.56 In terms of content, Rattkay’s map is a typical missionary map, displaying only the spatial information related to the activities of the missionaries. The map indicated all the missions existing at the time and restored shortly before his arrival. According to Rattkay, the Tarahumara region had two towns— Las Bocas and Parral (which were indicated by small vignettes). The principal missions in Upper (Alta) Tarahumara were Papigochic, Mátachic, Yepomeran, Temeichic, Sisoguichi, Carichíc, San Francisco de Borja, and Coyáchic. Apart from Papigochic, Rattkay marked Villa Aguilar (indicated as La Villa) in the area of Upper Tarahumara as well, a location where the Spanish formerly had a fortress. The missions in Lower (Baja) Tarahumara included Satevó, Santa Cruz (Villegas), San Pablo (Balleza), Nonoava, and Huejotitlán (an identical list of the major missions is found in his written report as well). In addition to these thirteen principal missions, Rattkay indicated some thirty subsidiary missions, which means that, after the rebellion and the reconstruction of the missions in Upper 92
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and Lower Tarahumara, there were at least forty-five villages under the supervision of the Jesuits. The names of the nations whose territories bordered the Tarahumara region were indicated on the edge of the map: the Yaqui, Temores, Chínapas, and Guazapares in the west, the Conchos in the northeast, and the Tobosos in the southeast. Like most early Jesuit maps, Rattkay’s map is not marked by strong Jesuit iconography. It contains no Jesuit symbols or places of martyrdom, nor does it bear a cartouche that would glorify the order— only numerous missions that speak for themselves about Jesuit achievements in the region. Rattkay sketched the main outlines of the relief on his map very carefully. Located on the elevated plateau of the eastern branches of the Sierra Madre Occidental, there are three mountain ranges marked on the map: from west to the east, the Sierra Charamuscas, the Sierra El Alamo Mocho, and the Sierra la Chechena. Because water played a decisive role in organizing everyday life in the missions, Rattkay paid special attention to indicating the directions of the main waterways. In the south of the region he was well acquainted with stretches of the Conchos River and its main tributaries, the Balleza and Parral Rivers. In the central part of Tarahumara, he indicated the San Pedro and Santa Cruz Rivers, which, together with their tributaries, supplied water to most of the region. In the northern part, we can see the courses area’s two main rivers, the Tomochic and the Papigochic. In the northeastern part of the map, he also sketched the course of the Santa María River, although he erroneously merged its southern reaches with the Santa
Isabel River. At the same time, Rattkay decided to omit many elements of human geography, such as settlements of unbaptized native people, settlements dating from before the arrival of the missionaries, roads, and the like. Also, Rattkay completely failed to indicate important mines around the town of Parral, apparently believing that the region’s economic resources had little bearing on the establishment of a network of missions. Rattkay was first and foremost a missionary and only secondarily a geographer and cartographer. Nevertheless, Rattkay’s map was the first of the Tarahumara region that would have an impact on later Jesuit maps, especially those of Kino. Rattkay died on 26 December 1683, suddenly and in mysterious circumstances, at the young age of thirty-six. Only later was it discovered that he was poisoned by one of the natives from Cárichic because he had forbidden them to use alcohol and carouse.57 Rattkay’s mission was turned over to the Jesuit Francesco Maria Píccolo (1654– 1729), who managed it for the next fourteen years. The period of prosperity, however, was not to be reestablished for a long time. The new gold mines in Sisoguichic and the silver mines in Cusihuiriachic, constructed after the discovery of deposits in 1684, were again exploiting the natives, stirring up new rebellions of the local population in 1690 and again in 1697. Many of the Upper Tarahumara settlements were destroyed and burned down, and the Tarahumara displayed on Rattkay’s map ceased to exist. After Rattkay’s pioneering cartographic work, mapping of the Tarahumara region was stalled. The regional map of Tarahu-
mara that Rattkay compiled would remain an isolated attempt until as late as 1744, when Juan Isidro Fernandéz de Abee tried his skill in the preparation of a new map of the region (fig. 33).58 The map is an integral part of his report (visitation) on the state of the missions, which he compiled on July 8, 1744.59 In addition to the missions, Abee marked numerous mines and indigenous settlements on his sketch, which is roughly drawn and hard to read. Compiled at a larger scale than Rattkay’s, it shows the area between 27° and 29° north latitude and 255° and 258° east longitude, concentrating on the central part of Tarahumara around the Sisoguichic mission. Although his use of scale, a graticule of latitude and longitude, and a clearly elaborated explanation key representing towns, missions, native settlements, and mines shows that he was well acquainted with the cartographic conventions of his time, Abee apparently lacked the cartographic and drawing skills of his predecessor, so the position of many settlements is imprecise and the entire mathematical basis of the map distorted. Soon after his report, the Jesuit Tarahumara region started to collapse. By 1753 the Lower Tarahumara missions had been turned over to secular priests. After the suppression of the Jesuits in the Spanish territories in 1767, operations of most of the missions among the Tarahumara ceased. 2.1.2.2 Adam Gilg and the Art of Surveying in the Province of Sonora
While Rattkay worked in the interior, other Jesuits were slowly extending their missions northward along the coast. As a result of the The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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F igur e 33. Map of Tarahumara by Juan Isidro Fernandéz de Abee, attached to his report written on July 8, 1744. (The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley)
expansion of Jesuit missions in Pimería and Sonora, in 1692 a map originating from the pen of the Moravian Jesuit Adam Gilg appeared.60 He had come to Mexico in 1687 and served as a missionary among the Seri Indians of Pimería (Sonora) for eighteen years. From the beginning of his service in Mexico, Gilg was a close associate of Eusebio Kino (Gilg’s missions were under Kino’s jurisdiction). Kino strongly encouraged the development of Gilg’s exploration interests, especially during their joint expeditions to the Colorado River and Baja California.
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From his mission base in Santa María del Pópulo, Father Gilg made numerous voyages to the north. His map of Sonora was created as a contribution to the report that Gilg sent to the rector of the college of the Society of Jesus in Brünn (Brno), Moravia, in February 1692 (fig. 34).61 Although the report was later published in Der Neue WeltBott, the map was not published with it.62 The description of Pimería that Gilg sent to his superiors in 1692 refers mainly to the Seri Indians and their customs.63 For the most part, it is an ethnological and
F igur e 34. Adam Gilg’s map of Pimería, compiled in 1692. (© Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu)
anthropological narrative of extraordinary value. In contrast to the very comprehensive description of the human geography of the area in Gilg’s narrative, the data on the physical geography are rather scanty. He describes Sonora as a region that consists of a mountain range stretching from south to north with valleys in between where most of the missions are situated. The river that runs through this region, he says, has a peculiar characteristic: in various places, especially in summer, it goes underground, then after a while rises again from the earth. By introducing his associate from Brünn into the description of the map itself, Gilg emphasizes their shared love of mathematics
and cartography, poetically calling the latter art and giving us his high opinion of mapping (“we both are fond of mathematical sciences as well as of the art of surveying”). Gilg’s map of Pimería encompasses the area between 28° and 33° north latitude (more or less accurately determined) and the area between 245° and 252° longitude measured eastward from the prime meridian, respectively. The map, which is oriented with north at the top, is accompanied by a scale in leagues and a graticule of latitude and longitude. Drawn at a considerably larger scale than the anonymous 1662 map, Gilg’s is the first regional map of Sonora— a testament not only to the establishment of
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new missions during the second half of the seventeenth century, but also to the progress that had been made in mapping the area. Gilg was one of those rare authors who in his narrative commented on the mathematical construction of the map, especially its prime meridian. Writing about his home mission, Santa María del Pópulo, Gilg says that it is situated 245°40′ east of Tenerife. That calculation contains a significant degree of error, because the position of Gilg’s mission, measuring eastward from Tenerife, actually corresponds to a longitude of about 266°.64 Gilg’s problem with determining longitude can be seen in shorter distances as well. Gilg thus says that Prague is located at 34°40′ east from Tenerife (the actual distance between Prague and the Tenerife prime meridian is about 31°). These data would suggest that Gilg used Tenerife as the prime meridian, but the coordinates that Gilg cites in his report do not match the coordinates of these places on his map (the prime meridian is not indicated on the map). For example, Gilg’s home mission is situated on the map at 250° east, about 5° farther east than he claimed in his narrative.65 However, Gilg was aware of his map’s errors. He wrote in the letter accompanying the map: “I am enclosing a map newly made and drawn by my own hand to which your Reverence may refer and satisfy your curiosity as you wish. Latitude is easily found anywhere at any season; but longitude must be counted; as when two mathematicians who live widely apart, in different countries, make exact observations of the planetary shadow (Phasium observatione), mea-
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sure the darkening simultaneously, and by letter one communicates to the other what he has discovered. But I have neither time nor equipment for that.” Gilg’s map gives us insight into Jesuit knowledge of Sonora in the late seventeenth century, before Kino began exploring the area. In comparison to his predecessors, Gilg made an important step forward in mapping the space, heralding a new stage in the development of Jesuit cartography that would give a more complete view of the human geography of the region. Gilg depicted on his map Jesuit missions, mines, and many settlements of unconverted natives (Pagum Gentilium). He also noted a number of oronyms and names of individual valleys, particularly in the border areas in the north, which were most important for maintaining and potentially expanding Spanish rule into new territories. We can therefore conclude that this map had some military importance as well. In Gilg’s time, most Jesuit missions were located in the interior of Sonora, between the Río Sonora and the Río San María (present-day Río de San Miguel de Horcasitas). Accordingly, it was the mapping of that area to which Gilg paid the greatest attention. Among the Jesuit missions, he specifically marked his home mission, Santa María del Pópulo, adding to it his own name. Santa María del Pópulo, established in 1679, was located on the west side of the San Miguel Valley (7.6 km [4.7 miles] from presentday San Miguel de Horcasitas) and above the junction of the San Miguel and Sonora Rivers, and it was not an easy post. Gilg was assigned to it after it was abandoned in 1683.
Somewhat west of Santa María del Pópulo, Gilg marked the San Tadeo mission, which was established in 1691 when Gilg gathered a number of Tepocas in the San Miguel Valley. In the vicinity of Santa María del Pópulo he noted some of the missions held by his colleagues: Nacameri, led by Antonio Rojas of Florence; Toape, by Marcus Kappus of Austria; Dolores, Remedios, San Ignacio, and Magdalena (marked as vacant), by Kino; and San José de Imuris and Cocospera, by Pedro de Sandoval. Along the Sonora River, Gilg noted the missions of Ures and Babiacora, led by Pedro Castellanos; Aconchi, Huepáca, Banamachi, and Sinoquipe, by Juan Muñoz de Burgos; Arispe, by Felipe Esgrecho; and Bacuachi as well as the northernmost mission San Juan Bautista, by Marcus Loyola of Spain. In the lower course of the Santa Cruz River, he marked several missions established in 1691: San Lázaro and San Luis Bacoancos (both soon abandoned after Apache attacks); and Los Santos Ángeles de Guevavi, where the first church in southern Arizona was built (in the native settlement, later relocated). Mission Santa María Soamca, established in 1693, is marked as well. In the northern edge of the region, which Gilg designated as an area of new conversions, we can see the missions Tubutama (led by Antonio Arias), Uquita, Sáric, and Muicaqui. The whole coastal region Gilg designated as the area of the Seri people (Regio Serorum), which was still unknown (incognita). He indicated that the area along the coast was rich in fish (ora piscaria) and that there were a number of salt sources (salinas). He called the Gulf of California Mare
Californiae, and the island in front of the coast Insula Serorum (present-day Tiburón Island). Gilg was the first to mark some of the gold and silver mines in the area of Sonora, which played an increasingly important role in Spanish colonial policy regarding this border region. In the Río San Miguel Valley, one of the most abundant Sonoran mines, Opodepe, was located near the mission of the same name, which had been established in 1649. North of the Arispe mission Gilg marked the Bacanuchi mine, which was founded in the mid-seventeenth century by José Romo de Vivar and which also generated significant income.66 Throughout the area of Sonora, he also delineated the trails that linked the missions to individual native settlements, enabling us to see their interconnections as well. Thanks to Gilg’s map, we can see that the north– south trails along the river valleys played a major role in connecting the missions. However, an advance in communications in the east– west direction was also noticeable, and these were crucial to connecting the coast and the interior provinces as well as individual mines on the slopes of the Sierra Madre. All the marked paths that connected the central and northern part of Sonora were key not only for the maintenance of the missions, but also for control of the border, so the emergence of traffic communications on the map showing a border province within the Spanish possession is very logical. In the upper corner of the map is a striking illustration of a family of Seri Indians (Seri Gentiles), whose exceptional documentary value led to its widespread reproduction; it has in fact be-
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come better known than the map on which it first appeared.67 2.1.2.3 Eusebio Francisco Kino and His Followers: Mapping the Northwestern Frontier
Gilg occasionally collaborated with the most famous of the Jesuit cartographers, Eusebio Francisco Kino.68 After he entered the order, Kino studied at the University of Ingolstadt, where he was strongly influenced by the cartographers Adam Aigenler and Heinrich Scherer. On his way from Germany to the New World, Kino spent a year and a half in Seville, continuing his studies of mathematics and cartography and probably using the capacities of the Casa de Contratación. From Cádiz, from November 1680 till February 1681, Kino observed the comet described by Rattkay, further developing his knowledge of astronomy. Soon afterward Kino boarded a ship to Vera Cruz; he reached the Mexican port sometime in mid-1681. Like most Jesuits of non-Spanish origin, Kino traveled under a pseudonym, in his case Eusebio de Cháves, supposedly a native of Córdoba.69 By the time he arrived in Mexico, Kino was well prepared not only for his missionary service, but also for exploration and mapping. His mathematical learning was recognized soon after he reached Mexico City. Upon his arrival there Kino started a public discussion with Sigüenza y Góngora concerning the recent comet they both observed. It was the beginning of their long and fruitful friendship. Sigüenza was deeply impressed by Kino’s intellectual capacity. A man of a great influence, he recom98
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mended Kino to the viceroy of New Spain, Don Tomás de la Cerda. In October 1682 the viceroy appointed him royal cosmographer to the California expedition under the command of Admiral Don Isidro Atondo y Antillón. To prepare himself for his new duties, before leaving Mexico City Kino borrowed maps of California from the viceroy’s palace in order to study the region’s geography, taking them to the Colegio Máximo. We learn more about which maps Kino used as a template from Sigüenza y Góngora, who wrote that Kino was using the charts made by Captains Francisco de Ortega and Esteban Carbonel de Valenzuela that he himself had lent him. Sigüenza y Góngora complained that Kino had returned the charts to him damaged, obviously because of heavy use.70 Starting in November 1686, after spending almost two years in the exploration of Baja California, where he established the short-lived mission and fort of San Bruno, Kino worked in the Pimería Alta. In 1687 he established his headquarters at Nuestra Señora de los Dolores among the Pimas. In the years to come he founded another fourteen missions and eight visitas (subsidiaries of the main mission): Nuestra Señora de los Remedios (1687), San Ignacio de Cabórica (1687), San Pedro y San Pablo del Tubutama (1687), Santa Teresa de Átil (1687), Santa María Magdalena (1687), San José de Imuris and Nuestra Señora del Pilar y Santiago de Cocóspera (both 1689), San Antonio Paduano del Oquitoa (1689), San Diego del Pitiquito (1689), San Luis Bacoancos (1691), San Cayetano del Tumacácori (1691), San Gabriel de Guevavi (1691), San Lázaro (1691), San Xavier del Bac (1692), San Cosme y Damián de Tuc-
son (1692), Los Santos Reyes de Sonoita/ San Ignacio de Sonoitac (1692), San Martín de Aribac (before 1695), La Purísima Concepción de Nuestra Señora de Caborca (1693), Santa María Soamca (1693), San Valentín de Busanic (1693), Nuestra Señora de Loreto y San Marcelo de Sonoyta (1693), and Nuestra Señora de la Ascensión de Opodepe (1704). Kino kept a diary of most of his expeditions, which, together with his maps, all attest to his explorations and discoveries.71 Like most explorers before him, Kino hardly ever mentions in his diary the methods he used in orientation or mapping. He rarely indicates the coordinates of the places he visited, and when he does, the data refer almost exclusively to the latitude. The diary of his trail companion Juan Mateo Manje, an officer in the Spanish army who served as Kino’s escort on seven journeys of exploration between 1694 and 1701, provides more geographical observations than does Kino’s diary, which is more oriented toward the missionary aspects of the journeys. In this regard, for more complete insight into Kino’s expeditions and their geographical observations, Kino’s diary should be read in conjunction with Manje’s.72 In his Memoir, Kino refers to his methods of determining latitude only once, in the entry of March 3, 1702. In his epochal 1702 expedition with Father Manuel González, at the point where he crossed the Río Colorado he noted: “At midday we reckoned the height of the sun with an astrolabe and I found it to be fifty-two degrees. To this I added six and a half degrees to compensate for the south declination of the day, thus arriving with the total of fifty-eight and a
half degrees. Now the complement of this to make ninety degrees is thirty-one and a half degrees, which is the altitude of the pole or the geographical latitude of the place where we are.”73 In regard to the accuracy of Kino’s determinations of longitude and latitude, Ronald Ives concludes that his latitude was as accurate as his instruments permitted.74 Kino’s errors in the latitudes are less than one degree of arc. However, his longitudes are all derived figures, and they are all wrong. Kino had no firm index meridian, no method of determining longitude in the field, and no method of checking distances except estimation. The longitudes on Kino’s maps are based on departures, which were determined trigonometrically, using measured latitudes and estimated distances as basic data. On the basis of internal evidence from his own writings and from the diaries of his companions, we can conclude that Kino’s navigation equipment consisted of a compass (probably equipped with a gnomon so that it could be used as a sundial), a telescope, and an astrolabe. His navigation handbook was Adam Aigenler’s Tabula Geographico-Horologa Universalis, which included Riccioli’s tables of latitude and longitude as well as corrections of magnetic declination.75 Although Kino started to produce his maps as soon as his journeys in America began, many of his early works are not preserved.76 Kino arrived in the Pimería Alta in late 1686, just after taking part in two expeditions in Baja California led by Isidro de Atondo y Antillón (1683– 85). During his California expeditions he made several maps, which means that Kino arrived in the Pimería Alta as an experienced explorer and The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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cartographer (see section 2.1.3 on Baja California). He started to systematically explore and map the Pimería Alta as soon as he arrived in the region, research that continued from 1687 until his death in 1711. During that time he conducted more than forty expeditions and drew a large number of maps. He traveled and explored the following regions extensively: Tumacácori, 1691; the Altar River, 1692; the Gila River to Casa Grande, 1695; Baja California, 1697; the Santa María and San Pedro Rivers, 1698; the Gulf of California from the north to the Colorado River, 1700; a repeat trip and crossing of the Colorado River on a raft, 1701; a repeat trip and proof that Baja California is not an island, 1702; Guaymas, 1704; Tiburón Island, 1706; and Pinacate and Santa Clara, 1706. Kino’s maps clearly illustrate his progress in exploration and mapping. When we analyze them in chronological order of their appearance, each was more accurate and inclusive than the one before, eliminating earlier misconceptions (his own or those of others). Although he was an explorer of unknown territories, the human landscape was always of prime importance in his maps. Even when he contemplates the question of whether California is a peninsula or an island, it is the people who really capture his interest. When he mapped the physical features of the land, such as mountains or rivers, they were always represented in relation to their inhabitants. Kino made the earliest preserved maps presenting the Pimería Alta to illustrate the biography of his martyred Jesuit companion, Francisco Xavier Saeta, who was killed during an uprising of the Pimas in 1695. His first map dedicated to Saeta, the Teatro de 100
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los trabajos, shows California and the northwest mainland of New Spain (plate 4).77 It is a large map accompanied by a graticule of latitude (20°– 45° north) and longitude (233°– 273° east) and compiled at a scale of about 1:3,500,000. The prime meridian is not indicated, but the mathematical base of the map bears some resemblance to Aigenler’s world map, included in Tabula Geographico-Horologa Universalis, which was calculated from the Canary Islands eastward. Although Kino’s map does not show the location of Saeta’s martyrdom, the powerful symbolism of the map is confirmed by the title itself, which unequivocally highlights the merits of the Jesuits in the evangelization of the New World. The beautifully drawn cartouche, which is crowned with the monogram of the Society of Jesus, additionally affirms the strong message regarding Jesuit achievements. This map was mostly compiled during 1695, before Kino set out for Mexico City, and the finishing touches were added during Kino’s stay in the capital in 1696 (the text in the lower left-hand corner of the map is dated 1695, while the date under the title refers to 1696). Kino made at least two copies of this map. One was sent to Father Tirso González de Santalla, the Jesuit General, and the other to the viceroy of New Spain. The latter sent it to the Duke of Escalona, who forwarded it to the Academy of Sciences in Paris.78 The Californias (Californias ó Carolinas) are represented as a vast island extending from 23° to 45° north, and separated from the mainland by the Sea of the Californias.79 Although Kino came to Mexico believing that Baja California was a
peninsula (his teacher Aigenler had made a world map showing California as a peninsula, and Kino accepted it as accurate), after he visited Mexico City in 1695 his views were influenced by Sigüenza y Góngora and some other scholars, and he came to concur with their belief that California was an island. Despite this fundamental error about the nature of California, Kino’s map summarizes well most of the contemporary knowledge regarding California, which was based on previous expeditions, as well as on his own explorations of the southern part of Baja California conducted between 1683 and 1685. That Kino was well informed about all the previous expeditions is demonstrated in the extensive text in the lower left-hand corner, where Kino listed all the expeditions to California, from Cortés’s discovery of California in 1553 to the last expedition of Captain Francisco Itamarra, who visited California in 1694. In regard to the presentation of the mainland, which shows the area between Valladolid (modern-day Morelia) and Mexico City in the south and the missions of New Mexico in the north, Kino’s 1695– 96 map is also a compilation of geographical knowledge about New Spain, based not only on Kino’s own research, but also on that of a number of his predecessors, especially the missionaries in active service in the area— in particular, the areas Kino did not explore in person but nevertheless included in his map (e.g., Tarahumara, whose depiction shows a correlation with Rattkay’s map; and central Mexico, whose presentation relies on Sigüenza y Góngora’s 1691 map). In that regard, with his 1695– 96 map Kino greatly
improved the presentation of New Spain, supplementing the hydrographic network and marking a large number of new missions and native settlements. Comparing his map with the map from 1662, as well as Gilg’s map from 1692 and Sigüenza y Góngora’s map from 1691, the 1695– 96 map depicts for the first time the area north of the course of the Sonora River, where Kino worked and explored the most. Although the map was produced before his celebrated expedition to Colorado, Kino tried to sum up the geographical knowledge of the area he had collected up to that time. At the very northern boundaries of the Spanish territory he thus marked the Río del Tizón and the Río Grande del Corral (Coral) with its several tributaries: Río Colorado, Río Azul, Río Sonaca o de Hila (Gila), and the unnamed Río San Pedro (also called Río San José de Terrenate) as the easternmost tributary of the Coral. The settlements Kino indicated in this borderland are, along the right bank of the Coral River: Sasabuc, Siuboidag, and Ariguriodag; and on the left bank, Encarnación, San Andrés, Soacson, Comacson, Coatcooidag, Noscorigiason, Tucsapitc, Tubababia, Tubatcupot, Oiadaibu, Haupumuquic, Hupatoidag, Tucsanoidag, Baptuadagum, Caboricoidag, Cupcamoidag, Tutodam, Tutumagoidag, and Moapitoidag. On the unnamed San Pedro River he recorded Oiaturs, Bapaten, Aribabia, Tacobac, Muihibai, San Marcos, San Salvador, Gugubapca, Giburi, Oacot, Pitaitutgam, San Joseph, Guachuca, and Terenate. Along the Santa Cruz River he marked Casa Grande (with a sketch of the ruins), Santa Catalina, San Agustin, San Cosme, San Xavier del Bac, San Martín, San CaiThe Viceroyalty of New Spain
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etano, Guébavi, Reies (Reyes), San Luis, Capazura, Beradcuguachi, Santa María del Pilar, and Basosubeam. Only one settlement, Angamtugbaui, is noted north of the Río Colorado. East of the Río del Tizón Kino noted the settlements of the Moqui (Hopi): Quaquina, Qutana, Masaquia, Alona, Oraivi (Oraibi), Aguico, Moconabi, Aguatubi, Iongopabi, and Gualpi.80 From this excerpt of Kino’s northernmost placenames it is quite clear that, although Kino did not categorize the settlements he noted, his map includes not only missions but also many indigenous settlements. In this sense, the map both testifies to the development of Jesuit missionary activities and also represents a valuable source of information about local toponymy. However, the 1695– 96 map, drawn before his major exploration of the Colorado River, reflects many of the gaps in Kino’s knowledge of the region. While the map is rich in toponymy, other geographical elements are scarce. This map points to another problem that is common in other Kino’s maps as well: although the map is provided with degrees of latitude and longitude, the prime meridian is not indicated. The scale is given in Castilian leagues. Based on his 1695– 96 map, Kino produced another, which presented the area between the Gila and Sonora Rivers in more detail. Drawn in 1696– 97, this map was sent to Rome to serve as a second illustration of the biography of Father Saeta (plate 5).81 The map shows Saeta kneeling by the Magdalena River, where he was assassinated at his mission of La Purísima Concepción de Nuestra Señora de Caborca in 1695. North of him we see the Gila River 102
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(named Río Grande del Coral) emerging from the Apaches’ territory and running into the Mar de la California. The names of the missions and native settlements are far more accurate than on the previous map. Most of the missions marked along the Santa Cruz, Magdalena, and San Miguel Rivers were established by Kino. At the confluence of the Santa Clara and San Pedro Rivers, he marked the site of the legendary Casa Grande, a large Hohokam ruin, which Kino discovered in November 1694 and described in his diary as a four-story building, as large as a castle.82 The names of the native peoples or their regions are indicated in red: Nuevo México, Moqui, Apaches, Cocomaricopas, Opas, Hojomes, Sumas, Janos, Sobaíporis, Pimería, Sobas, Sonora, and Seris. Although it contains a considerable number of place-names, the map had a more symbolic character: its aim was to depict the martyrdom of Father Saeta. This is probably why the map has no graticule of latitude and longitude— in the context of the map’s purpose, these were irrelevant. After his most famous expedition— to the Colorado River, in 1698– 1701— Kino made a new map showing the connection of the California peninsula with the mainland, as well as neighboring Pimería and its many missions. Unlike previous Kino’s maps, which concentrated primarily on the depiction of missions, this 1701 map carried a stronger mark of explorative cartography. During the three years of his expedition, Kino concentrated on determining whether Baja California was an island or a peninsula. The discovery of the land route around the head of the Gulf of California was the final proof that California was connected
with the mainland. Kino emphasized this geographical fact in the title of the map: “A Passage by Land to California.” Kino delineated several maps with slight differences but all based on his explorations around the mouth of the Colorado River. However, these autograph maps have without exception disappeared.83 All the versions of this map that we know are copies presumably made based on the original. In fact, we know for certain that Kino sent one copy of his map to Father Bartolomé Alcázar, a mathematician and historian of the Colegio Imperial in Madrid. Alcázar made a copy of the autograph and sent it to his Jesuit confreres in Paris, who published it twice in 1705, in the Lettres édifiantes (vol. 5, following p. 16) (fig. 35), and then again, from the same plate, in the Mémoires de trévoux (pp. 1238– 39).84 Kino sent another autograph to the Jesuit general in Rome (not found yet) and one more to his fellow missionary Marcos Antonio Kappus, who forwarded it to Germany, where the map was printed in 1707. The copy that is considered the closest to Kino’s original is the Spanish version that Burrus found in the Jesuit college at Chantilly, near Paris.85 The above-mentioned map summarizes Kino’s discoveries made during his 1689– 1701 expedition. All doubts that Kino had regarding the nature of California were now removed. He described the discovery in his diary: “I have discovered with all details, certainty and evidence, with mariner’s compass and astrolabe in my hands, that California is not an island but a peninsula, or isthmus, and that in thirty-two degrees of latitude there is a passage by land to California, and that only to about that point comes
the head of the Sea of California, the large volumed rivers . . . emptying into the head of the same gulf.”86 Based on this most important finding, we can see California correctly presented as a peninsula. On the accession of Philip V at the death of Carlos II, the alternate name of California, Carolinas, was dropped. The second important discovery by Kino concerned the Colorado River, the course of which he draws correctly for the very first time— flowing into the ocean at the bottom of the Mar del California, along with the Gila River. Along the Colorado River, he identified the Alchedomas, who dwelled on the left bank of the river. The confluence of the Colorado and Gila Rivers, as well as the courses of their tributaries, was thus established with a precision hitherto unknown. Although he focused mainly on his discoveries, Kino also noted all the new missions, especially the one established in Baja California. The newly founded missions Loreto, San Xavier de Biaundó, and San Juan de Londó are shown for the first time, as well as some of the native settlements mentioned by Fathers Francesco Maria Píccolo and Juan María Salvatierra in their reports. On the Pacific coast of California Kino also noted some important results of his 1684– 85 expedition, such as the positions of the Río de Santo Tomás and Puerto de Año Nuevo. Kino made another expedition in 1702, after which he supplemented his 1701 map with a depiction of the whole peninsula of California. Although the autograph of that map is missing, a copy was made based on which a printed version of the map was published twice in the Joseph Stocklein’s Der Neue Welt-Bott, first in 1726 and then again in 1728 (fig. 36).87 The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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F igur e 35. Eusebio Kino’s map from 1701, prepared after his expedition to the Colorado River, first published in the Lettres édifiantes (1705). This is a copy from a reprint of the Lettres édifiantes, published in 1781. (MacLean Collection)
F igur e 36. Eusebio Kino’s 1702 map, published in the 1726 issue of Der Neue Welt-Bott, presenting the whole of the peninsula. (MacLean Collection)
The map relies heavily on the 1701 template, which is now extended to the south to include the whole peninsula. Strangely enough, the only important addition, that of the peninsula’s southern tip, is delineated much less accurately than the rest of the map. Everything south of Loreto is shown in a very generalized way. All the details included in Kino’s 1695– 96 map are omitted here, leaving the reader with almost no information about the southern part of the peninsula. Nevertheless, despite this small omission, the latter map was certainly among the best editions summarizing the entirety of Kino’s knowledge of New Spain at the dawn of the eighteenth century. Thanks to its publication in Der Neue WeltBott, Kino’s 1702 map became one of the most well-known maps of California. The exceptionally wide dissemination of the map contributed greatly to the rediscovery of the peninsularity of California and the rejection of the insular theory. After he finished his famous Colorado expedition, Kino was fifty-six years old. Nevertheless, he did not stop, continuing his explorations for another ten years. In 1710, shortly before his death, Kino drew the map Nuevo Reyno de la Nueva Navara, which was intended to accompany and illustrate his diary.88 The map became separated from his writings and was considered lost until the mid-twentieth century, when Burrus found a copy of the map in the d’Anville collection in Paris (fig. 37). This copy was made from the original manuscript by d’Anville to facilitate the engraving of the plate for the publication in 1724.89 The map is accompanied by latitude, which is shown
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as being approximately one degree farther north than on his 1701 map; longitude is not indicated. The expeditions he led between 1702 and 1707 gave Kino more geographical knowledge of California and the northern borderlands of Sonora and New Mexico. Kino’s 1710 map illustrates the results of those late explorations. In the northern areas of the Pimería Alta and New Mexico, Kino completely redrew the delineation of the hydrographic network. Kino named the westernmost part of the Gila— an area that had gone unnamed until then— the Río Grande de los Apóstoles. Another change from the earlier maps was the extension of the name “Colorado” south of the junction of San Dionisio; the full designation was now the Río Colorado de los Mártyres. He changed the names of other rivers as well: the Santa Cruz River became the Santa María, the San Pedro River became the Río San José de Terrenate, and what had been designated on his earlier maps as the Río Azul now became the Río Salado (Salty River). At the mouth of the Colorado River, Kino drew a large island that he named the Isla de la Presentación, observing that it was inhabited by numerous unconverted Indians. Kino also introduced significant changes in the presentation of New Mexico along the Río Grande, from Santa Fe to El Paso (in present-day Texas). For the first time, the Pecos River (Río Salado de Apaches de los siete Ríos) and the Puerco River were designated as tributaries of the Río Grande (Río al Norte). Even more important was the inclusion of new settlements, such as Villa de Santa Fe, Villa de Albuquerque, San Felipe, Santo Domingo, Bernalillo, and
F igur e 37. Map intended to accompany Eusebio Kino’s diary, compiled by him in 1710. This is a copy prepared by Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville in 1724. (Bibliothèque nationale de France)
Gemes (modern-day Jémez). Kino omitted the settlements abandoned due to the Pueblo Revolt (but noted the “towns transferred to El Paso since their revolt”).90 In regard to California, which he visited again in 1702, Kino recorded his discovery of Santa Inés Island and Cabo San Vicente, neither of which appeared on any of his earlier maps. Kino wrongly concluded that these were two separate features, an island and a cape. In reality, the two elevations that Kino saw from the mainland are part of the same island, today known as Isla Angel
de la Guarda; later explorers such as Juan de Ugarte and Ferdinand Konščak would correct the mistake. As he did with the rivers, Kino renamed some of the islands as well. Tiburón Island, Isla de San Augustín on Kino’s earlier maps, was now designated as Seris (the name used by Gilg). Baja California was named Peninsula de California, and Kino added that it was “Newly ascertained to be such by Father Kino of the Society of Jesus in the discovery which he made in 1702.” In the southern portion of Baja California, between 27 and 28° latitude,
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Kino noted, “From this parallel northward no discovery has been made nor entrance into the interior of California has been undertaken; there is a handful of information that the land is very fertile.”91 In a reflection of changes in the Spanish succession, Kino’s new map employed radically revised his nomenclature. He designated northern Mexico as Nueva Navarra to show that the region linked New Spain with New France, much the same way that Navarra in Europe joined Spain with France. From the explanation key he included in the lower left-hand corner of the map, it is evident that Kino not only made important new discoveries and changed his political discourses, but also adopted a new categorization of the settlements he marked on his map. For the first time he identified not only Christian native towns (pueblos Xptianos de Indios), but also mining towns (reales de minas),92 farms and ranches (estancias y ranchos), military forts (presidios), ancient settlements (ciudades antiguas), and towns of unconverted Indians (poblados de Indios gentiles). Thanks to his elaborate classification of the settlements, we can see that at the beginning of the eighteenth century, most of the area depicted was dominated by settlements of baptized natives; Kino noted only a small number of the unbaptized in the area along the Gila River and in New Mexico. Kino’s 1710 map mentioned for the first time the existence of the presidios of Fronteras, which was founded in 1689, and Janos (moved there from Casas Grandes). The only site that is marked as an ancient settlement is Casa Grande, which was discovered by Kino in 1694. Moreover, Kino’s 1710 map also documents the devel108
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opment of mining activities, which in Sonora were an increasingly frequent cause of conflicts and rebellions of the local people who were forced to work in the mines. Kino noted the mines at Bacanuchi (Gilg knew about that mine as well), the mines in the vicinity of Nacozari, the mines in the area of the Moctezuma River (one of the Yaqui River’s headstreams), along with the town of Urique (founded around 1690), the Río Chico (east of the lower Yaqui River), and the Los Frailes mine, the major mining center of southern Sonora (later to become Álamos, Sonora), built on a deposit discovered in 1683. He also knew the mines of Tarahumara, among which he especially marked Cusihuiriachic, built on a deposit discovered in 1687, which became the center of a mining boom that led to the Tarahumara rebellion of 1690.93 Although Kino’s 1710 map was a sensational achievement, the autograph lay neglected in Paris for years. Only after being discovered by Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville in 1724 was the map widely used by contemporary European mapmakers. Many distinguished cartographers, such as Guillaume Delisle in his Carte d’Amérique (Paris, 1722), Nicolas Bellin in Carte de L’Amerique Septentrionale (Paris, 1743), Robert de Vaugondy in Amérique septentrionale (Paris 1750), and especially Charles Marie Rigobert Bonne, whose map Le Nouveau Méxique (Geneva, 1780) was merely a reprint of Kino’s 1710 map (with only Texas, Louisiana, and central Mexico added from other sources), used Eusebio Kino’s maps as their main source. Kino’s work would serve as a basic template also for the maps that were produced by the Franciscans af-
ter they took over the management of the Jesuit provinces in 1767.94 After Kino’s pioneering work, exploration of the region was continued by a number of other Jesuits, many of whom devoted themselves to mapping. Most of these cartographers used Kino’s maps not only as inspiration but as the main source for the maps of their own. One of the most successful among them was certainly Juan José Díaz (also spelled Díez),95 who in 1765 became one of the last Jesuit missionaries to be sent to Lower California. There he worked with Fathers Wenceslaus Linck and Victoriano Arnés. The newcomers were eager to found a new mission. Led by Linck, Díaz and Arnés conducted an expedition that eventually resulted in the establishment of a new mission, Santa María de los Ángeles, in 1767.96 Díaz’s enthusiasm for exploration was also reflected in his interest in cartography, and Eusebio Kino was his role model. When Díaz was the visitador of Sinaloa in 1766, he utilized Kino’s 1702 and 1710 maps (the title of Díaz’s map is an additional reference to Kino’s 1702 template) to compile his own (plate 6).97 Although at the time Díaz drew his map, Kino’s data were more than fifty years old, Díaz failed to update the map with new information. All the presidios established in the mideighteenth century (Pitic, Terrenate, Horcasitas, Altar, and Tubac) were omitted. Thus, Díaz’s map, completed in 1766, just before the suppression, actually reflects the situation of the early eighteenth century. The map itself is a typical missionary map: it covers the missions and visitas of the Pimería Alta, from San Ignacio de Cabórica (near present-day Magdalena) in
the south to the Colorado and Gila Rivers. The relatively successful color representation of relief and vegetation distinguishes this map from others, including those by Kino himself. In conclusion, despite some obvious shortcomings, the map is a fairly successful compilation of several templates and characterized by very skillful technical execution, representing a significant step in the development of the Jesuit cartography of Sonora. 2.1.2.4 Cartographic Synthesis from the Time of the Military and Juridical Reorganization of New Spain
The mapping of New Spain did not stop with Kino’s work. Although large expeditions became increasingly rare, the Jesuits continued to conduct field explorations. This is evidenced by a monumental map by an unknown Jesuit titled “Chorographia de las missiones apostolicas. . . .” (plate 7).98 The map was apparently created as a supplement to some written report on the state of the provinces, such as were customary at the time (there are numbers alongside many of the settlements), but no link to a specific written document has so far been found. According to its title, the map shows the old provinces of Topia and Tepehuanes as well as more recent ones— Nayarit, Sonora, Sinaloa, Tarahumara, and Baja California, along with their territorial divisions. Although to a certain degree it relies on Kino’s achievements (especially on his maps of 1695– 96 and 1710), this Jesuit map is an original work. The map is characterized by a very specific artistic design, in which one can see The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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the strong influence of Dutch cartography. The title cartouche relies heavily on the models that the cartographic workshops of the Blaeu and Janssonius families used during the second half of the seventeenth century, and whose templates Eusebio Kino also used for his map Teatro de los trabajos. Similarly, the illustration of a ship in the Sea of Cortez was also adopted from Dutch templates. This type of decoration was not common on Jesuit manuscript maps, so the map’s high level of artistry confirms that it was intended for some prominent person. Above the ornate cartouche is the distinctive emblem of the Jesuit order, above which is inscribed “Vinea Apostolica à societate Iesu Provinciae Mexicanae fructuosè excultas,” reinforcing the power of the map. Moreover, the depiction above the scale of a hand holding a pair of calipers, a scroll (map?), and an astrolabe suggests that the map was made based on field observations and exact measurements, additionally highlighting the importance and originality of the map. The original date is not noted on the map. However, the explicit mention of the Jesuit Province of Nayarit (mentioned in the title), with its eight initial missions established in 1722 (subsequently noted on the map in another hand), supports the view that the map was created between 1720 and 1722. The absence of all the presidios that were established in the Province of Sonora and Sinaloa at the time of and after the Yaqui revolt of 1740 as well as the missions marked in the Province of Baja California, mostly those established until 1720, confirm this dating of the map.99 Furthermore, the territorial division presented on the map, 110
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which refers to Jesuit provinces suggests approximately the same date. Also significant is the appearance of an island drawn above the mouth of the Sonora River, in the Sea of Cortez. The island known from Kino’s maps as the Isla de San Augustín is on this map for the first time labeled with its presentday name—Tiburón. Its accurate representation and its native name probably reflect Ugarte’s expedition to this island in 1721, after which the island became better known to the Spanish authorities.100 This almost unknown Jesuit map is of the utmost importance, for several reasons. First, there was a gap between the appearance of the last Kino’s map and the Jesuit maps of single provinces of New Spain, for the latter began to appear in large numbers only in the mid-eighteenth century. It is this map that proves that the first half of the eighteenth century saw fairly intense cartographic activity, not only in Sonora and Sinaloa but also in those provinces for which no single Jesuit map has been preserved to attest to it, such as for the Province of Topia or Tepehunaes. Secondly, the map proves that, apart from the maps of individual provinces, syntheses were occasionally also made for wider areas, although they were otherwise not typical of Jesuit cartography.101 Last but not least, this map is more proof of interweavings between the mapping conducted by the colonial (that is, military) authorities and that undertaken by the Jesuits (and the Franciscans). The explanation key of the map that indicates Jesuit missions, towns (with clergy), Franciscan missions, royal mines, presidios, farms and ranches, and watering holes, testifies that the key developed for Kino’s 1710
map had become more or less a convention. The inclusion of military and economic information in a missionary map reflects the close connection between these issues. That leads us to the specific historical context in which this map appeared. The increasingly frequent uprisings of the native people, who were forced to work in the royal mines, and the need to control them militarily required cooperation between the Jesuits and the colonial authorities. Though Jesuits did not participate in the exploitation of the mineral resources of New Spain, they were present at the sites of mining activities and witnessed the participation of military and colonial authorities in this lucrative business. Being in charge of the local nations, the Jesuits were well acquainted with the gold and silver deposits near their missions. Mining, highly lucrative but requiring a (free) labor force, influenced not only the surrounding missions, but also the military organization of the borderlands. Owing to the importance of the mines, the presidios that were usually located on the outskirts of the province were now moved closer to the mines and missions. The tensions in gold mining in northern New Spain reached their peak in the first decades of the eighteenth century, which resulted in numerous uprisings of the local population and subsequent military inspection, with attempts at reorganization of the borderland. The 1718 petition by the settlers of Nacozari and the 1722 letter from Jesuit Father Luis Velarde testify to the gravity of the situation.102 Military officers stationed in presidios were often more concerned with mine revenues than with military protection of the area they
were stationed in. A well-known case comes from 1712, when the captain of the Sonoran presidio of Fronteras left his post and went to live in the new real of Nacozari in order to concentrate on mining ventures. The rebellions of the local population due to their exploitation, as well as more and more frequent raids by the Apaches, increasingly devastated the Jesuit missions that were left without any military protection and also threatened the existence of all the northern provinces. This specific historical context largely determined the content of this Jesuit map. Regarding its geographical content, this was the most comprehensive map of the northern borderlands of New Spain that had appeared up to that time. Equipped with a scale and a precise graticule grid, the map shows a wide area between 22°– 33° north latitude and 249°– 265° east longitude. Although it is clearly influenced by Kino’s earlier work (the 1695– 96 and 1710 maps), the mathematical basis has no correlation with any other Jesuit map. Compiled at a scale of approximately 1:1,500,000, it was a rather original map that gave new insights into the human geography of New Spain. No previous or subsequent missionary maps contained as many missions and native settlements as this map. The presentation of the hydrographic network is significantly improved over previous maps, as is the map’s mathematical basis. Also, this was the first map that compiled detailed data not only about the Jesuit but also about the Franciscan missions of the region. Owing to increasing tensions with military authorities, a closer cooperation and exchange of knowledge with the FranThe Viceroyalty of New Spain
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ciscans, who controlled part of the borderland, also came to be of vital importance, so their missions more regularly found their place on Jesuit maps. Moreover, this fascinating map, created just before the military inspection of northern New Spain carried out by Brigadier General Pedro de Rivera between 1724 and 1728, provides us with a far more detailed presentation of the royal mines and their exact positions in relation to the missions and presidios than any previous map. No fewer than fifty mines are marked on it, an unusual detail pointing not only to the time but also to the purpose of the map’s creation. Intense mining activity began to jeopardize the survival of the missions, and Jesuits called the colonial authorities to urge military inspection. In fact, in New Spain the entire eighteenth century was marked by an intensification of mining activities and increasingly loud protests from the Jesuits, who pointed out that the enslavement of the local population to work in the mines was what was causing the rebellions. This remarkable Jesuit map was not prepared for printing but remained in manuscript form, which made it difficult to disseminate the information it contained. Yet, it led to an intensified exchange of knowledge and more direct cooperation in mapping activities between the missionaries and the military authorities of New Spain, which would be clearly reflected in later maps of the region. When the negligence of the military staff began to jeopardize the efficiency of Spanish control over the entire borderland region, urging the military reorganization of the borderlands, the Marquis of Casafuerte, the newly appointed 112
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viceroy and captain general of New Spain, ordered the military inspection of the borderland. Pedro de Rivera y Villalón, who was assigned to carry out the inspection, was accompanied by Francisco Álvarez Barreiro.103 During their expedition, which took about four years, Álvarez Barreiro conducted a detailed survey of the vast region between Nayarit in the south and New Mexico and Texas in the north, encompassing the Jesuit and Franciscan provinces of New Spain. His map, comprising five sheets and one overall map, is the earliest official military map of the northern Spanish borderlands (plate 8).104 Although based on an original field survey and compiled with the clear military purpose of reinforcing the borderlands, the map shows a strong resemblance to Jesuit maps of the same region. In its style of pictorial presentation of the relief and in the symbols used for the settlements and missions, Álvarez Barreiro’s map looks like a rather typical missionary map. Missions are designated by a circle with a cross— in contrast to Spanish towns, which are marked by a picture of a church— which fits the conventions of Jesuit cartography exactly. Strangely enough, one of the most important elements of the military map, a road network, is omitted on all Álvarez Barreiro’s sheets. Nevertheless, none of either the Jesuit or the Franciscan maps of the early eighteen century contain roads.105 A further insight into written Jesuit documents confirms that Álvarez Barreiro was not just well informed about previous Jesuit mapping of the region: the Jesuits played an active part in his mapping endeavor, acting as his informants. The Jesuit relations of New Spain testify to the
fact that Rivera was in direct contact with Jesuit and Franciscan fathers in the field. In his letter of February 2, 1727, Rivera praises the efforts of Jesuit missionaries in maintaining colonial power in this remote part of the Spanish dominion and asks the viceroy to support them more generously in the future.106 Moreover, he acknowledges them for their contribution to the success of his military inspection. Rivera visited not only the presidios but also numerous missions and was therefore in close communication with the Jesuit and Franciscan fathers who ran those missions, as well as with their superiors. That is exactly how Álvarez Barreiro collected so much detailed information about the human geography of the region and why he was so strongly influenced by the missionary style of mapping.107 A map by an unknown Jesuit that appeared around 1722 and Álvarez Barreiro’s sheets of 1725– 29 clearly confirm not only the intensive exchange of geographical information between the missionaries and the military authorities of New Spain, but also their mutual influence on the content and style of their maps. The military authorities were obviously well acquainted with maps produced by the Jesuits, making frequent use of them, just as the Jesuits undoubtedly used maps produced for the same area by the military authorities. Consequently, the Jesuit missionary maps of New Spain contained more and more military information, just as the military maps of the same region provided more detailed information about missionary activities. Thus, cooperation between the Jesuits and the military authorities during the time of the military and administrative reorganization of New
Spain left a deep mark on the further development of New Spain’s cartography.108 The exchange of knowledge between the missionaries and the military authorities, already common in seventeenth-century New France and Brazil, would from the mid-eighteenth century on become more frequent in the lands of the Spanish crown as well.109 2.1.2.5 Mapmaking Attempts in Sinaloa
After the initial cartographic achievements in the mapping of Sinaloa, which were presented in the anonymous author’s 1662 map, and then those presented in the cartographic synthesis by an anonymous author, Sinaloa was not a subject of greater interest for cartographers. The expansion of the Spanish Empire toward Sonora and Pimería Alta from the end of the seventeenth century onward placed the geopolitical and cartographic focus on the border area of the empire far in the north. It is interesting that even the Yaqui and Mayo revolt, which in 1740 spread to the northern regions of Sinaloa, leading to significant changes in the organization of colonial (especially military) authorities in these areas, did not, as far as is known, encourage cartographic activities. The brief but bloody revolt of 1740, in which one thousand Spaniards and five thousand natives were killed, had a profound influence also on the Jesuits’ missionary work. Many missions were destroyed or abandoned, and the presidio was moved from San Felipe y Santiago (established in 1584) to Buenavista and Baroyeca, on the outskirts of Yaqui country, in 1756. The prolonged lack of cartographic The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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activity would only be interrupted by the arrival of the Jesuit José Palomino, who would, around 1744, compile the oldest single map of Sinaloa known today.110 He arrived there in 1737, which means that the Yaqui revolt that ensued in 1740 found him in his home province. Stationed in his mission, San Pedro y San Pablo de Guasave, which was located in the immediate vicinity of the town of Sinaloa, the area of Palomino’s activity was probably not directly affected by the revolt. Although the map is not dated, so we do not know exactly when it was created (it cannot be excluded that it was created before the revolt), the copy that Palomino attached to his mission report, compiled in 1744, made no reference to any military operations undertaken in that province shortly before.111 Beside the aforementioned copy accompanying the 1744 report, there is another, later and more finished, copy of the same map (plate 9).112 Although it is undoubtedly indicated on this later copy that it was drawn by Palomino (albeit with a rather vague dating),113 the map could also have been copied by somebody else from his original template, created around 1744, while retaining the information on the original author of the map.114 Either way, this map of Palomino’s is a graphically more finished version of his original autograph. Colored and provided with a latitude scale and a title cartouche containing the Jesuit emblem, the map represents the best presentation of Sinaloa compiled before the suppression. Although the terrain is represented by shaded hills, the Sierra Madre mountain range, as well as its individual isolated massifs, are clearly recognizable 114
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(some have names: Sierra de Cinaloa, Sierra S. Andress, and Sierra muy rocola). Palomino also indicated the entire hydrographic network, which we have so far not seen on other maps; this definitely confirms that the map was based on original observations (along the mouth of the Culiacán River, there is a note about the sandiness of its banks). In regard to human geography, the map shows only missions and towns, omitting data on presidios or settlements of native people. He nevertheless marked two mines, the San Miguel, located on the Río Moctezuma, and the Los Frailes, along the Río de Mayo. In that sense, Palomino’s map returns us to the cartographic tradition of the seventeenth century represented by Eusebio Kino. However, although it looks like a typical missionary map, Palomino’s work is actually devoted to the representation of atypical content— traffic. In fact, from 1732 onward the Spanish authorities began to establish a network of roads, based on the route of the old Camino Real (established as early as the late seventeenth century), that paralleled the coast and ran from the Sonoran missions in the north all the way south to Mazatlán. In addition to surely having a great deal of significance for the movement of the troops to the areas affected by the 1740 revolt, that road, which led over the upper course of the Yaqui River to Sonora, played a key role in supplying the Baja California missions. In fact, the goods traveled along the coastal road to the north all the way to the first convenient port along the Sinaloan or Sonoran coast (Ahome, Ráhum, Guaymas). From there the goods were shipped, via the Sea of Cortez, to the Loreto presidio. After the departure of
the Jesuits in 1767, Sinaloa began to lose its significance, and the importance of the aforementioned traffic declined. 2.1.2.6 The Jesuit Cartography of Nayarit
The Jesuit Province of Nayarit represents the Society’s last foundation project in New Spain, and the most short-lived.115 The Sierra of Nayarit is a small mountainous state south of Sinaloa and Durango. As in many other places in northern Mexico, the Jesuits were preceded by Spanish conquistadors and by Franciscan missionaries, who started to evangelize the local native inhabitants, the Coras, a century before the establishment of the Sierra missions. Most of the Jesuit missions of Nayarit were situated far to the north of the Sierra, which tended to isolate this mission province. When it was decided to establish the new Jesuit Province of Nayarit, the decision was introduced by force.116 The conquest in 1722 of the site known as La Mesa del Tonati marked the beginning of the Jesuit province in Nayarit. When the founding Fathers Antonio Arias and Juan Tellez arrived in that year to work with the Cora nation of Nayarit, they were accompanied by soldiers. The missions in this region were mostly entrusted to the novohispano Jesuits. The Coras were gathered together in several missions: Santísima Trinidad (La Mesa), Santa Getrudis, Santa Teresa de Miraflores, Jesús María, San Francisco de Paula, San Ignacio de Guaynamota, San Pedro de Ixcatlán, San Juán Bautista, and Nuestra Señora de la Peña de Francia. Altogether, some 629 families comprising 2,588 individuals were
brought under Jesuit missionary supervision. Four of these mission towns were presidios: La Mesa, Santa Gertrudis, Jesús María, and Guaynamota.117 These missions formed a new Jesuit province: Saint Joseph of the Gran Nayar, also known as the New Kingdom of Toledo (Nuevo Reyno de Toledo). The best-known Jesuit missionary of Nayarit was Father José de Ortega, who lived among the Coras from 1727 until 1750. A narrative history of the province, published under the title Apostólicos afanes de la Compañía de Jesús (Barcelona, 1754) and attributed to Father Ortega, is one of the principal sources for the colonial history of the Coras and the Jesuit history of the Province of Nayarit.118 One of Ortega’s contemporaries in the Nayarit missions was Father Salvador Ignacio Bustamante, who worked among the Coras between 1738 and 1745.119 When he first visited Nayarit as visitador in 1738, Bustamante compiled a written report on the Nayarit missions, informing his superiors about the number of inhabitants, soldiers, and the condition of the churches. Seven years later, Bustamante again visited the Nayarit missions as visitador. This time he decided to write a report on the history of the Nayarit missions (1722– 45), in which he enclosed a manuscript map of the province (fig. 38).120 The map finalized in San Pedro de Ixcatlán on October 10, 1745, shows the area of 21– 23°40′ north latitude and 260°40′– 265°20′ east longitude (no prime meridian is indicated). The map is oriented to the north and equipped with a scale (leguas). Bustamante’s map remained in manuscript and, like many other Jesuit maps, The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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F igur e 38. Map of the Jesuit province of Nayarit, attached to the report of Salvador Ignacio Bustamante of October 10, 1745. (The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley)
never published in the Jesuit reports. Bustamante’s cartographic work therefore found no echo on maps by his contemporaries. Though, owing to its rough look, it had not received much attention from researchers (Burrus discovered it only in 1967), a more detailed analysis of its content reveals that it is a relatively accurate map with a precisely drawn hydrographic network and well-designated locations of the presidios, missions, and visitas. Like most Jesuit maps, because of the need to commute between the missions, special attention was paid to the depiction of the physical geography of the terrain. Relief is shown by simple hills, and the areas with palm trees (palmar) 116
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are highlighted with tree icons. As for the rivers, the Río Acaponeto, Río San Pedro, and Río Grande de Santiago, with its many tributaries, are designated; among the latter, the Río Atengo stands out. Apart from the courses of the rivers, water sources are also designated. The provincial boundaries are depicted with a broken line. To the east of the Province of Nayarit, the Franciscan missions among the Huicholes are marked, while to the north and west of Nayarit we can see the settlements and missions among the Tepehuanes. The accentuated display of the provincial boundaries is of no merely utilitarian importance. The boundaries of this province, occupied by force, have sym-
bolic meaning confirming the power of the conqueror. In addition to testifying to the development of Jesuit cartography at the beginning of the eighteenth century, the map documents the further development of the Jesuit missions of the Gran Nayar. In fact, from 1722— when the first missions were established in this province— to the middle of the eighteenth century, their number increased. Thus, on Bustamante’s map, we also see a number of new missions. Apart from the missions established in 1722, we now also see the missions of Santa Rita or San Juan Peyotán with the visita of Santa Rosa, then the mission of Nuestra Señora del Rosario with the visita of San Juan Corapan, and the mission of Nuestra Señora de Dolores. According to Bustamante, by 1745 seven Jesuits served eleven Nayarit missions. There were also forty-four soldiers stationed at three presidios: San Ignacio, La Mesa, and Santa Gertrudis. By minimizing the human landscape— and the existence of other native settlements— in favor of representing the missions and presidios, the author sends a strong message that order (read: control) is possible only through the joint action of ecclesiastical and military authorities. At the beginning of the eighteenth century, the area of the Province of Nayarit was still one of the least-known parts of Mexico on both the Jesuit maps and the maps of official (military) Spanish and European commercial cartography. The maps of Eusebio Kino (such as the 1695– 96 map) barely touch on this area, which is for the most part only roughly outlined or even left empty. The first significant cartographic
works on Nayarit were carried out by the Spanish army in 1727, when the province was mapped by Francisco Álvarez Barreiro, but in terms of the amount of geographical information, the map resulting from the above survey lags far behind that compiled by Salvador Ignacio Bustamante in 1745.121 Bustamante’s map was a pioneering cartographic work, about which we still know far too little, given its obvious significance. 2.1.2.7 Juan Nentwig and Bernhard Middendorff: Cartographers of the Pima Uprising and Its Aftermath
Because of its importance as a Spanish borderland, Sonora continued to draw the attention of the Jesuits until the suppression of the order, so it was often mapped. As a starting point for the expansion of missions farther north, maintaining authority there was a geostrategic issue of key importance for the Spanish crown. Though Sonora was the last to be conquered and the most distant, the mapping of this region was especially important for political and military reasons. The question of the Sonoran missions came to the fore at the time of the Pima uprising. Springing up soon after the Yaqui rebellion of 1740, a chain of native resistances threatened to jeopardize Spanish interests in the whole northern borderland of Sonora and Sinaloa. In 1750 Juan Nentwig, a Silesian Jesuit, came to Sonora,122 where he served from 1750 until the suppression of the order in 1767. He was an accomplished mathematician and geographer. Upon his arrival Nentwig was assigned to the Sonoran missions, where he served eighteen years, first in Tubutama The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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and then in Sáric and Huásabas (Guásabas). In 1751 he witnessed the Pima uprising, which trapped him in Sáric. After Father Jacobo Sedelmayr warned him that his life was in danger, Nentwig managed to escape to the neighboring mission of Tubutama. Together with Father Sedelmayr and a handful of followers, they defended the Tubutama mission church for days. Despite a head contusion, Nentwig managed to reach the mission of Santa Ana five days later.123 The Pima uprising of 1751– 52, whose suppression in central Sonora led to a bloody war, strongly influenced the history of Sonora and its missions. As a result of the Indian resistance during the Yaqui and subsequent Pima revolts, the number of full-time soldiers in Sinaloa and Sonora more than tripled within the decade, and several new presidios— Pitic, Terrenate, Tubac, Horcasitas, and Altar— were established.124 Sonora had to deal not only with the fact that it was a border province of the Spanish Empire, but also with the constant danger of revolts by the local population. After the revolt was suppressed, Nentwig spent some time in Santa María Soamca and then in Tecoripa, where he stayed until 1757. Finally, in 1759, he was transferred to the principal mission of Huásabas, where, along with continuing his missionary duties, he dedicated himself to writing and cartographic work (although the Apaches frequently laid siege to the town). During the summer of 1762 he wrote an extensive narrative, Descripción geográfica de la provincia de Sonora,125 that contained not only accounts of Jesuit missions and a description of the native nations and their customs, but
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also very detailed information on the geography of the region, such as descriptions of the rivers, mountains, climate, soil fertility, flora and fauna, agricultural production (that which existed and that which could be developed), mining activities, and settlements (unconverted and Christianized villages). The manuscript bears not the year when the narrative was written (1762), but the year it was copied or amended by his superiors (1764). Also, the authorship of the manuscript was questioned (it was not signed). However, after Nentwig’s letter to Francisco Zeballos, dated February 14, 1765, was found in which he described his work on the manuscript, it was considered definitive proof of Nentwig’s authorship.126 To accompany his narrative, Nentwig produced a map of the region (fig. 39).127 Thanks to his correspondence with his superiors, we have learned how the map was constructed. In the letter to the viceroy, the Marquis de Cruillas, dated July 15, 1764, Nentwig wrote: “As we do not have the necessary instruments nor the ability to use them, the map was not made by mathematical observation. Instead, it was drawn following the knowledge acquired on my travels through Sonora and Pimería, adding the information obtained from experts on the Apache and Seri lands.”128 Although Nentwig is noted as the author of the map, in his letter to Zeballos Nentwig clearly stated that he was not the only author of the map: his part in the preparation of the map was limited to making a rough sketch, and Father Bernhard Middendorff was the one who drew the map and finished it so beautifully.129 Based on that statement, the
F igur e 39. Map of the Pimería Alta and Sonora, compiled in 1764 through the joint efforts of Juan Nentwig and Bernhard Middendorff. (British Library)
1764 map of Sonora should not be treated as authored solely by Nentwig, but as a joint work of Nentwig and Middendorff. Father Bernhard Middendorff was a German Jesuit who worked in New Spain’s missions for eleven years.130 Serving in Sonora, Middendorff was famous for being the first resident missionary in Tucson, Arizona.131 Soon after arriving in Sonora, Middendorff started his exploration work, which also included cartographic activities.
Relying on Eusebio Kino’s maps, Middendorff compiled his own map of Pimería in 1757.132 He attached the map to the report on the situation after the revolt of the Seri Indians, which he sent to the viceroy of New Spain, signing it with his pseudonym, Don N. N. Anville. Middendorff accompanied the governor of Sonora, Juan Antonio de Mendoza, in his campaign along the Gila River in 1756. The map is the result of comments made on this trip and denotes
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a deep knowledge of the territory. It was at the same time the starting point for the depiction of Pimería, which Middendorff, jointly with Nentwig, would make in 1764. The map by Nentwig and Middendorff shows the Pimería Alta and Sonora region, 26– 36° north latitude and 257– 269° east longitude (east of Tenerife). Although produced on a much larger scale, their map was to a great extent based on Kino’s templates. Using Kino’s map as a starting point for the representation of Sonora as well as Middendorff ’s map of Pimería, Nentwig and Middendorff created their own map by supplementing and correcting the data according to the results of their own observations and the observations of other Jesuits in the region. In several places in his narrative, Nentwig mentions that he gathered information by missionaries in different parts of the province, so Nentwig and Middendorff map should be considered a compilation. They added the names of all new missions, and the known distances between those places permitted them to figure out their approximate geographical locations. For the first time we can see the new presidios established in the aftermath of the Yaqui and Pima uprisings: Pitic, Terrenate, Altar, San Miguel de Horcasitas, and Tubac are marked and located with utmost precision. They also managed to significantly improve the representation of the region’s physical geography, primarily the hydrographic network, which represents great advances over the information available from Kino. Nentwig and Middendorff also tried to represent the terrain, which was almost completely absent from Kino’s maps. Like their predecessors Adam Gilg and Juan José 120
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Díaz, Nentwig and Middendorff sought to represent the contours of the terrain by means of shaded hills, in an attempt to illustrate the rhythmic alternation of valleys and mountain ridges in the Sonoran interior. The representation of the terrain reflects the powerful influence of Heinrich Scherer and his 1703 map of New Mexico. When it comes to the graticule, Nentwig and Middendorff ’s map shows no similarities to Kino’s maps. Constructed according to the prime meridian of Tenerife (eastward), the Nentwig and Middendorff map deviates by approximately 10° of longitude in relation to Kino’s maps. Thus, for example, Kino places the mouth of the Yaqui River at 254° east longitude, while Nentwig and Middendorff ’s map situates it at 263°42′, that is, about 10° farther east. The mouth of the Colorado River on Kino’s maps is located at approximately 249°50′ east longitude, while Nentwig and Middendorff place the mouth at 258° east. From Nentwig’s letters we know that the authors of the map did not have the equipment required to determine longitude; Nentwig says that the instruments they brought from Europe to observe the lunar eclipse were lost during the Pima uprising.133 In the absence of appropriate instruments, Nentwig did not count from the first meridian to his position through the continents of Europe, Asia, and America (toward the east), but instead deducted from the 360° meridian proportionately by leagues. By this method he determined that from Tenerife to the mouth of the Colorado River was about 258° east longitude, and the Yaqui River was 263°42′. In addition, Nentwig and Middendorff undoubtedly used some other car-
tographic templates when determining the longitude. Thus, for example, the longitude of the area between Sonora and the Yaqui River on Nentwig and Middendorff ’s map is almost fully consistent with the longitude of the same area on Scherer’s map of New Mexico, published in 1703. Kino’s influence can be seen in the categorization of settlements, which was further developed by Nentwig. Based on the explanation key that Nentwig and Middendorff added to the lower left-hand corner of the map, he noted several categories of settlements and objects: presidios, missions in ruins, principal or head missions, dependent missions (visitas), mining settlements, ranches, colonies of white inhabitants, towns with large numbers of Spaniards, watering holes, native villages, and mine shafts, as well as deserted towns. Nentwig and Middendorff also furnished the map with some very interesting iconography in the form of a cartouche. The semantics of the cartouche and the contents of the map indicate that its author was tremendously influenced by the Pima uprising that almost endangered his life just one year after his arrival in Sonora. The entire left edge of the cartouche is illustrated with military symbols, such as cannons, armor, drums, military flags, and tents, evoking both the Pima uprising and the importance of newly established presidios in preserving Spanish authority over this border region of the Spanish crown. Along the right edge of the cartouche, the authors added a depiction of agricultural production, alluding to its importance for the survival of missions located in climatically demanding areas of Sonora. In the lower right-hand corner the
authors also added a graphic depiction of the siege of some unnamed town. The castle being cannonaded may represent some of the European sieges from the sketcher’s memory, or even more possible, an exaggerated representation of the siege of Tubutama, that is, with Nentwig personally witnessed with Father Jacobo Sedelmayr post-exile.134 The scale depicts a Sonoran native holding a pair of calipers, suggesting the natives’ role in the development of his map. 2.1.3 Baja California: Revealing a Geographical Enigma
The Spanish colonial cartography of Baja California was strongly influenced by Spain’s need to claim possession of the territory, and consequently by its interest in connecting Spanish possessions in the Americas (the Spanish West Indies) with those in Asia (the Spanish East Indies)— an interest in which California played a crucial role. Because of its importance to navigation between America and Asia, Baja California was portrayed on maps relatively early; its southern portion, the most favorable point of connection between mainland New Spain and the Philippines, was portrayed even before the rest of the peninsula.135 The first contours of Baja California began to emerge as early as 1535, when the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés arrived in the southern part of the peninsula and named it Santa Cruz.136 It was further explored and mapped by the 1539 expedition of Francisco de Ulloa, the 1541 expedition of Hernando de Alarcón,137 and the The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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1541 expedition of Domingo del Castillo (fig. 40).138 After these initial efforts, the depiction of Baja California would only slowly improve through periodic Spanish entradas ( Juan Rodríguez Cabrillo, 1542), as well as through information from Dutch (Noort, 1600; Joris van Spilbergen, 1615) and English privateers (Thomas Cavendish, 1587). The Spanish prohibition on publication of many narratives and maps that would potentially stimulate interest in the exploration of Baja California contributed
to the slow progress in gaining new knowledge and its dissemination. Most of the seventeenth century was characterized by only sporadic pearling ventures and modest progress in the exploration and mapping of the region (Sebastián Vizcaíno, 1602; Nicolás de Cardona, 1614). Although the earliest knowledge of Baja California is owed to explorers and navigators, the mapping of Baja California was from the mid-seventeenth century until the suppression of the order almost
F igur e 40. Baja California, as seen by Domingo del Castillo in his 1541 expedition. Copy based on the original map published by Antonio de Lorenzana in 1770. (MacLean Collection)
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exclusively a Jesuit enterprise. Apart from its rough coastline, until the arrival of the Jesuits Baja California was largely terra incognita. In no land of the Spanish crown did the Jesuits have such a dominant role in geographical exploration and mapping as in Baja California. For that reason, it was Baja California where Jesuit cartography had the most prominent characteristics of exploratory cartography, while the missionary aspect, albeit present on the maps, remained in the background. In fact, although many of the Jesuit expeditions in the area of Baja California were tasked with seeking suitable locations for new missions, the primary motive for mapping this part of New Spain was not evangelical but geographical. Was Baja California an island or peninsula, how far did it reach, and where might it be connected to the mainland? These were the questions that most concerned Eusebio Kino and Ferdinand Konščak, the Jesuit cartographers of the region. However, it was not just the revelation of the geographical definition of Baja California that determined the mapping history of the region. The Jesuit exploration and mapping of Baja California took place under completely different circumstances than those of any other Jesuit province. Early attempts to colonize the region proved to be so costly and fruitless that the Spanish crown was unwilling to commit further resources to the effort. Hence, the Jesuits were permitted to work in Baja California on the condition that they financed the venture themselves.139 For that purpose the Jesuits established the Pious Fund (1697), which not only enabled them to finance their mis-
sionary activities in Baja California, but also gave them a degree of autonomy that Jesuits did not enjoy anywhere else.140 2.1.3.1 Eusebio Francisco Kino and the Appearance of the First Jesuit Maps of Baja California
Eusebio Kino first came to Baja California in April 1683 as a member of the expedition led by Isidro de Atondo y Antillón. The expedition set sail from Chacala in January 1683; it hugged the west coast of the Mexican mainland to the Río de Sinaloa and then turned west to cross the Sea of Cortez. Having sailed into Bahía de La Paz in April 1683, Kino spent three full months exploring and mapping the southern portion of the peninsula. The explorers built a small fort and chapel on the edge of Puerto de La Paz, naming it Misión Real de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. By late September 1683 a second expedition under the same leader, which would last until May 1685, brought Kino back to Baja California. After they founded the fort and mission of San Bruno in 1683, Kino decided to explore the interior of Baja, heading all the way to the western coast on the Pacific Ocean. Suffering from a lack of supplies, the expedition ended in May 1685. Kino drew his earliest extant maps on the basis of these two expeditions. In December 1683, using a compass, an astrolabe, and a navigational handbook, Kino compiled a map of Puerto de La Paz and its vicinity (fig. 41).141 The map shows a portion of Baja California as well as part of the mainland of Sinaloa near the mouth
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Figur e 41. Map of Puerto de La Paz and its vicinity (southeastern portion of Baja), Eusebio Kino, 1683. (Archivo General de Indias)
of the Yaqui River, situated at 24– 28° north latitude and 251– 254° east longitude. The scale is given in Castilian leagues. The map clearly delineates the deep Bay of La Paz as well as numerous islands at the entrance to the bay. The islands were a threat to safe navigation and also served as a shelter for pirates, which is why Kino paid special attention to mapping them. From north to south along the Baja coast he noted San Il124
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defonso, Isla de los Santos Coronados, Isla de Nuestra Señora del Carmen, Las Pitahayas, Los Ladrones, Santa Cruz, Montserrat, Alacranes, San Diego, Las Animas, Isla de San Joseph ( José), Isla del Espíritu Santo, La Galatea, Gaviotas, La Salina, and Isla de Cerralvo. Along the eastern coast he named several bays: Puerto de los Danzantes, Puerto de San Carlos, Puerto de Matanzas (all in the area of present-day Loreto),
then Puerto de la Paz, Puerto de San Francisco Xavier, and Puerto de San Ignacio de Loyola (all in the Bay of La Paz), as well as two harbors on the west coast (La Contra Costa): Puerto de Santa María Madalena and Puerto del Marqués.142 In the interior of Baja California, Kino indicated the basic features of physical geography: the courses of the Río Grande, Río de San Cristóbal, and Río de Santa María Madalena; the Laguna de Santa Bárbara and Laguna de San Salvador; and the elevations Cerro de San Eusebio, Cerro de San Miguel, La Sierra Giganta, and El Pico de Cigueña. In regard to human geography, Kino identified the names of the local nations: Los Didios, Los Noes, Los Edúes, Los Tibiries, Los Coras, and Los Guaicuros, showing that Baja California was not an uninhabited space and that there was still a lot to be done in terms of evangelization. In the Bay of La Paz he marked the two shortlived missions Real de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe and San Bruno (both founded in 1683 and abandoned in 1685). In honor of the reigning Spanish king, Charles II, Kino suggested a new name for both the Gulf of California and the region of California itself— Carolinas. He also made a separate plan of the mission of San Bruno showing the spatial organization of the settlement, which included a church, a fort, and living quarters.143 Kino sent both maps to the Mexican viceroy, who forwarded them to the king of Spain in 1685.144 Even though the planned colonization was not successful, much knowledge was for the first time acquired about the native inhabitants and the geography of Baja California. Kino’s 1683 map included the explo-
rations he conducted up to December that year, so he compiled another that was updated with his new discoveries in the southern portion of California. The original map is not preserved, but thanks to the fact that Kino sent a copy of this map to his professor, Heinrich Scherer (along with a letter, which is still extant), we definitely know that the map was compiled.145 Scherer edited Kino’s autograph to prepare it for publication. This new version of Kino’s 1685 map was published in Scherer’s Atlas Novus (Munich, 1703) (plate 10).146 By adding not only Baja California but also the Mexican mainland, the coverage of the 1685 map was much larger than that of his 1683 map. The map extends from 23° to 30° north latitude and from 258° to 270° east longitude (the prime meridian is not indicated), and the scale is given in German, Spanish, and French leagues. Above the linear scale, Scherer drew the Jesuit emblem as a sign that the map originated under the auspices of the Jesuit order. The presentation of the mainland relies on the 1662 map, to which is added some updated information on the new missions and the hydrographic network. The Río de Sonora and its port are now clearly depicted. Unfortunately, Scherer misread the names of numerous settlements, missions, and many other elements of the dense toponymy of both the Mexican mainland and California. The Gulf of California is given its original name: Mar Vermeio o de las Californias. California is still designated as part of an island (Pars Insulae). The most important addition to Kino’s 1683 map is the depiction of the southern tip of Baja California with Cabo San Lucas. On the Pacific coast, the Río de St. Thoma The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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(Río de Santo Tomás), discovered in the expedition and named after Tomás Antonio Manuel Lorenzo de la Cerda y Aragón, the viceroy of New Spain, is noted for the first time. Several native settlements are shown north and south along the river. The presence of natives such as the Guimies (or Cochimíes) and the Mogis is noted for the first time as well (the Tibiries from the 1683 map are now omitted). Although in the years to come Kino would dedicate himself completely to the exploration of the Mexican mainland, Baja California and the issue of whether it was a peninsula or an island would continue to preoccupy the cartographer’s thoughts. For that reason, all his maps of the Pimería Alta, Sonora, and Sinaloa regularly also included Baja California, documenting changes in his views regarding California’s geographical position (see Kino’s 1696 map Teatro de los trabajos, which shows California as an island). After Kino’s exploration, Spanish power in the waters of the bay waters was strengthened with Spain’s first permanent settlement: the mission at Loreto, established in 1697 by the Jesuit missionary Juan María Salvatierra. The Loreto mission with its presidio, the latter providing military protection to the fathers, served as both the point of departure for further exploratory expeditions along Baja California and the starting point for the establishment of new missions. Between 1697 and 1767 the Jesuit missionaries would establish sixteen missions throughout the length of the Baja California peninsula.147 Even though the newly formed missions facilitated further exploration of Baja California, until the 126
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mid-eighteenth century cartographic activities were almost an exception.148 2.1.3.2 Ferdinand Konščak (Fernando Consag): Confirming the Peninsularity
In 1732 another Jesuit came to Baja, a Jesuit whose explorations would completely change the understanding of California’s geographical features. The Croatian Jesuit Ferdinand Konščak, better known as Fernando Consag, served for twenty-seven years as a missionary in Baja.149 Konščak came to Baja in very turbulent times. In 1734 a rebellion of the Pericú people spread into the southern part of the peninsula.150 In 1735 the annual Philippine ship San Cristobal was attacked and part of her crew killed.151 The Pericú rebellion and the attack on the San Cristobal led to a significant change in attitude of the central authorities in Mexico City toward the Jesuit administration in Baja California. In 1736, in order to control the native population more effectively, but also because of mutual competition between the military and Jesuit authorities, the southern portion of the peninsula was separated from the presidio at Loreto. The portion of Baja California from La Paz to Cabo de San Lucas was then established as a separate entity called El Sur, whose troops and presidios were no longer subject to Jesuit control.152 Because the Bay of La Paz was discussed as a potential central supply port for the presidio in El Sur, and possibly even as a port of call for Manila galleons, a new, detailed map of the area was required. The task was given to Rafael Villar del Val, a Captain of the Spanish royal navy who was in charge of the survey, and to Ferdinand
Konščak, the Croatian Jesuit who would draw the map based on Villar’s measurements. In 1739 they produced a manuscript nautical chart at a scale of approximately 1:200,000, the first of that kind for the entire region of Baja California (plate 11).153 The map was drawn in the best tradition of the maritime and military cartography commonly used by the cartographers of the Spanish royal navy. The scale is not indicated on the map. There is no full graticule; only the position of 24° north latitude and 110° east longitude is marked. The map was undoubtedly produced for military purposes, intended primarily for navigating the Bay of La Paz. The sounding of the sea floor was conducted between the entrance to the bay at Isla Espíritu Santo and the end of the bay where the La Paz settlement was located (depth is given in Spanish brazes).154 Within the bay, especially prominent were two shoals (baxos), which made it difficult for ships to enter the harbor (the area presently known as the El Mogote sand barrier peninsula). In regard to the navigation, the map has one striking mistake: the location of the islet of La Salina (today known as the Isla de San Juan Nepomuceno) is completely wrong, on the western instead of the eastern side of the bay.155 On the mainland, the author marked the Camino del Norte, which linked La Paz to Loreto. Constructed by the Jesuits when they were establishing their southern missions, that road was the main supply route for transporting goods from Loreto to the southern missions. At the time of the Pericú rebellion and its aftermath, it ceased to be a route for supplies and communication and was transformed into a military road for the
troops that controlled the area of El Sur.156 The map also showed a village with a harbor called La Paz (Puerto de la Paz), located at the end of the bay, together with its pier and two sentry boxes (viga), which guarded access to the harbor on both sides of the bay. South of this settlement was the village of San Pedro, in whose vicinity the lucrative exploitation of ores would soon begin. At the same time, the map failed to show the Jesuit mission that had already been reestablished in the village of La Paz. Paradoxically, however, it included the old abandoned colony, the Real de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, established at the time of Eusebio Kino.157 Unfortunately, the remarkable map of the Bay of La Paz did not manage to attract the attention of mapmakers. In 1740 the viceroy of New Spain withdrew his support for the independent “presidio of the south,” and in 1741 he again brought all of El Sur under the jurisdiction of the presidio of Loreto, with troops controlled by the Jesuits.158 With this act, the 1739 map lost its primary importance, and all traces of it were lost until the nineteenth century.159 The surveying and cartographic knowledge that Konščak gained by collaborating with Captain Villar del Val was certainly a fateful turning point in his future endeavors. Personally inclined toward exploring, which he had undertaken even before this collaboration with Villar, Konščak was now fully committed to exploration and cartographic work. It was in all likelihood precisely this map that changed his life, determining his destiny as one of the most renowned cartographers of Baja California. From that time until his premature The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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death, while continuing his regular missionary duties, Konščak was completely dedicated to the exploration and mapping of the Baja California. After his work with Villar, Konščak conducted several large expeditions. The most important one was certainly the expedition he undertook in 1746. By order of the Jesuit Province of New Spain, he sailed the Gulf of California to the mouth of the Colorado River to find final proof that Baja California was indeed a peninsula. Although Kino had already confirmed Baja California’s peninsular features and presented that discovery on his maps of 1701 and 1702, the official position of the Spanish government was unchanged. The reason the Spanish king still had doubts that it was a peninsula is that Father Antonio de la Ascension, who traveled with Sebastián Vizcaíno (1548– 1624) and did a survey of the coast in 1602, still claimed that California was separate from the mainland. Kino’s journeys of 1684– 85 had been undertaken by land and were not considered to be definitive proof that California was not an island. The fact that Juan Mateo Manje, Kino’s escort on several of his expeditions, claimed that Kino did not obtain the decisive proof needed to establish California’s peninsularity created further doubt.160 Konščak set out on his expedition from Loreto on June 9, 1746. Escorted by the army and local natives, the expedition reached the mouth of the Colorado River on July 18 of the same year, irrefutably confirming that California was connected to the mainland. During the expedition Konščak kept a diary and conducted terrain measurements on the basis of which he compiled at least two maps.161 The first is preserved only in 128
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the copy made by Father Pedro Maria Nascimben (fig. 42).162 The map represents the northern part of the peninsula and its connection to the mainland near the mouth of the Colorado River. Even a cursory comparison of Konščak’s map with Kino’s 1701 and 1702 maps confirms that Konščak relied greatly on Kino’s templates. Their spatial extent and content largely overlap. By using Kino’s maps as a template on which he applied new findings based on his own field observations, Konščak managed to improve the representation of the coastline and islands. The Isla Angel de la Guarda, which Kino erroneously considered to be two separate islands, was now accurately shown. The mouth of the Colorado and the northern part of the Sea of Cortez were represented with much greater accuracy. South of the mouth of the Colorado, in the upper Sea of Cortez, he discovered the small isle of San Felipe (San Felipe de Jesús), which today bears Konščak’s name (Isla Consag). In addition to that of his home mission, San Ignacio (founded in 1728), Konščak added many toponyms along the coast as well as locations of watering holes (aquaje). East of the mission of San Ignacio, he marked the volcano Las Tres Virgenes, adding a note on its eruption in 1746; this is still used as a source of information on the volcano’s activity.163 In addition to the aforementioned hand-drawn map of the northern portion of Baja California, Konščak compiled a map of the whole of the peninsula that summarized all his explorations of the area, starting with his first expedition of 1739 and ending with his famous expedition of 1746 (fig. 43).164 For the compilation of the lat-
F igur e 42. Manuscript map of the northern portion of the peninsula, drawn by Ferdinand Konščak in 1746. This is a manuscript copy made by Father Pedro Maria Nascimben about 1757. (Huntington Library)
ter map, Konščak again used Kino’s maps as his main cartographic base and added the results of his own explorations. Along the Pacific coastline he designated a series of river courses, starting from the Río San Ignacio, with its lagoon (Konščak named it San Andres, Kino B. de Ballenas), all the way to the Río de La Purísima, Río San Migel (present-day Río Comondú), Río San
Javier, and Río San Pedro (both unnamed). However, Konščak’s knowledge of the Pacific coast of California was limited to the coastline, so he did not designate any of the islands known from Kino’s templates, such as the present-day islands of Isla Magdalena and Isla Santa Margarita, or La Isla Cedros, known from other maps. The depiction of the southern portion of the east coast and The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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F igur e 43. Ferdinand Konščak’s original manuscript map of 1746, which was sent to the Spanish court as final proof that Baja California was a peninsula. (Archivo General de Indias)
the archipelago south of Loreto relies heavily not only on Kino’s 1683 map, but also on a map from 1739. The Bay of La Paz conspicuously stood out as the most detailed part of the former El Sur. For instance, Cabo de San Lucas, meanwhile reestablished as the major port of call for the Manila galleons, was represented in much less detail. This alone confirms that, in El Sur, Konščak was most familiar with La Paz, no doubt because of his collaboration with Villar. Konščak, however, did correct some of the errors in his 130
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1739 map. The position of the Island of San Juan Nepomuceno is now displayed correctly, with an additional note about the existence of a secondary harbor in Pichilingue Bay (P. de los Picinges), located on the coast, just in front of the aforementioned island. In regard to human geography, Konščak marked the missions of Loreto, San Francisco Javier (according to Konščak, San Pablo), San Juan Bautista Londó (marked S. Joseph), San Juan Bautista Malibat, Santa Rosalía de Mulegé, San José de Comondú
(designated as San Miguel?), La Purísima Concepción, Nuestra Señora del Pilar de La Paz Airapí, Santiago de Los Coras, Nuestra Señora de los Dolores, San Ignacio, San José del Cabo (unnamed), and Todos Santos (unnamed). He completely omitted the two missions that already existed, Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe (founded in 1720 just south of San Ignacio) and San Luis Gonzaga (founded in 1737 in the vicinity of Los Dolores). Because Konščak, as a visitador, most certainly knew these two missions as well, the reason for this incomplete depiction of the missions should be sought in the swiftness at which the map was compiled. Also, he failed to mention any of the native settlements. Both of Konščak’s maps, along with his diary, were sent to the Jesuit provincial in Mexico City, Father Cristóbal de Escobar y Llamas, and then to Madrid for evaluation by the Spanish court. This fact is attested in an official report, in which Jorge Juan and Antonio de Ulloa evaluated Konščak’s diary and his maps and, based on their evaluation, advised the Spanish court to adopt a final decision on the peninsular position of California.165 Konščak’s maps, together with his diary of the 1746 expedition, known as Derrotero, were published by Venegas and Burriel.166 For that purpose Konščak’s maps were edited by Pedro Maria Nascimben and prepared as copperplates. The first plate, which showed only part of the peninsula, remained unchanged in content and title, but the map is now dated 1747 (fig. 44).167 The map that showed the whole of the peninsula was given a new title and dated 1757 (fig. 45).168 That map went through significant editorial changes, but such changes
did not concern the region of Baja California, in which only Konščak’s errors in regard to the missions were corrected. Much more novelty was introduced into the representation of the mainland, which was completely redrawn. For the purposes of Venegas and Burriel’s book, Nascimben significantly improved the presentation of the mainland by supplementing the information from Kino’s 1702 map. The editor thus managed to compile the achievements of two prominent cartographers, essentially making them coauthors. That is also why Nascimben decided not to attribute the map to either of the two cartographers, leaving its authorship unknown. To reinforce the impression of the whole map, the engraver decorated the margins of the map with vignettes, including animals, four scenes of native Americans hunting, religious ceremonies, and scenes of the martyrdom of the Jesuits Lorenzo Carranco and Nicolas Tamaral (see section 1.7 on iconography). After his famous expedition of 1746, Konščak continued his exploration and mapping. He conducted at least two other expeditions to Baja California, but no cartographic materials from them have been preserved.169 The Jesuit Father Wenceslaus Linck, who continued the exploration of Baja California after Konščak’s death, relied heavily on his achievements.170 Over a period of five years (1762– 67) Linck undertook a series of exploring expeditions to scout future mission sites and resolve geographical puzzles. His travels included journeys to the peninsula’s west coast, to Isla Angel de la Guarda, and to the north in an ambitious but failed attempt to reach the lower Colorado River. The Viceroyalty of New Spain
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F igur e 44. Printed edition of Ferdinand Konščak’s map of the northern portion of the peninsula, published in Miguel Venegas and Marcos Burriel’s Noticia de la California (Madrid, 1757). (Courtesy of Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps)
Eusebio Kino and Ferdinand Konščak were among the most influential Jesuit mapmakers in the history of cartography. Thanks to the spread of Venegas and Burriel’s Noticia de la California, maps by Kino and Konščak quickly became invaluable to foreign cartographers across the world. Various versions of their maps were included in all later editions of Venegas and 132
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Burriel’s book— English (1759), Dutch (1762), French (1766– 67), and German (1769– 70)— as well as in many other widely distributed printed books published upon the suppression, such as Nachrichten von der Amerikanischen Halbinsel Californien by the Jesuit Jacob Baegert (Mannheim, 1773) (fig. 46),171 Storia della California by the Mexican Jesuit Francisco Javier Clavijero
F igur e 45. Compilation based on the maps by Ferdinand Konščak (for Baja California) and Eusebio Kino (for the mainland), prepared by Pedro Maria Nascimben in 1757 for Miguel Venegas and Marcos Burriel’s book. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
F igur e 46. Map of Baja California in the narrative of Jacob Baegert, the only printed edition that acknowledges the authorship of Ferdinand Konščak (Mannheim, 1773). (MacLean Collection)
(Venice, 1789), and Beschreibung der Landschaft Sonora (Cologne, 1794– 95) by Father Ignacio Pfefferkorn. Their maps were wellknown and highly respected, and not only in Jesuit circles or royal courts. Commercial European cartographers immediately recognized the value of Kino’s and Konščak’s maps, and they were reprinted by European cartographic workshops, especially those in Amsterdam and Paris. Most of those reprints were based on Nascimben’s edition of Mapa de la California prepared for the purposes of Venegas and Burriel’s book. One of the first who evidently used that exact map to complete his own was Isaak Tirion.172 When the Mexican cartographer and secular priest José Antonio de Alzate y Ramírez was compiling his map of New Spain in 1767 (printed in Paris in 1768), his work was greatly facilitated by the use of Konščak’s and Kino’s maps. Denis Diderot’s monumental Encyclopédie (Paris, 1772) includes a color plate with five maps of Baja California, including those of Kino and Konščak (the plate was engraved by Robert de Vaugondy) (plate 12). The same templates published by Venegas and Burriel were used by the great explorer Alexander von Humboldt. When compiling his map Carte générale du royaume de la Nouvelle Espagne of 1804, in the representation of Baja California and Sonora he relied on Kino’s and Konščak’s cartographic achievements. 2.2 The Viceroyalty of Peru
One of the first Spanish colonial territories to be organized in the Americas, the Viceroyalty of Peru, founded in 1542, included the entire South American continent (ex-
cept for the Portuguese and Dutch possessions). The viceroyalty was governed from the capital, Lima. Politically, it was divided further into audiencias, some of which were themselves eventually elevated to the status of viceroyalty. The Viceroyalty of Peru consisted of the following audiencias: Panamá (first 1538– 43 and then 1564– 1751), Lima (established in 1543), Santa Fe de Bogotá (1548), La Plata de los Charcas (1558), Quito (1563), and Chile (first 1563– 73 and then 1606). Later two more audiencias were founded: Buenos Aires (1661– 72 and then 1776) and Cuzco (1787). Each of them was responsible to the viceroy of Peru in administrative matters (though not in judicial ones). The audiencias further incorporated the older, smaller divisions known as governorships (gobernaciones, roughly provinces) and headed by governors. The provinces that were under military threat were grouped into captaincies general, such as the Kingdom of Chile (established in 1541 and later established as a Bourbon captaincy general in 1789), and were joint military and political commands with a certain level of autonomy. By the eighteenth century, declining silver production and economic diversification had greatly diminished the income that was going from New Spain to the crown. In response, the crown enacted the Bourbon Reforms, a series of edicts that increased taxes and partitioned the viceroyalty.173 The need to ease communication and trade with Spain led to division of the vast territory of the Viceroyalty of Peru. Two new viceroyalties were formed from the territories that had previously made up the Viceroyalty of Peru: New Granada (first established in 1717, and then The Viceroyalty of Peru
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finally permanently established in 1739), governed from Santa Fe de Bogotá; and Río de la Plata, with its center in Buenos Aires (established in 1776). These reforms led to further reduction of the power, prominence, and importance of Lima as the viceroyalty’s capital and shifted the lucrative Andean trade to Buenos Aires and Bogotá, while the decline in mining and textile production accelerated the progressive decay of the Viceroyalty of Peru.174 With the permission of King Philip II of Spain, the first group of Jesuits arrived in the Viceroyalty of Peru in 1568, some thirty years after the arrival of the Franciscans, Dominicans, Augustinians, and Mercedarians. After founding colleges and residential houses in urban centers, they started to penetrate into the interior, establishing their first missions (reductions) in 1609. The greatest number of missions was established in the Llanos region of Peru and Bolivia (Moxos), in Paraguay (among the Guaranís and Chiquitos), and among the numerous native groups that lived along the Amazon and Orinoco Rivers. It was exactly the region where Jesuit cartographers were the most active, mapping the terrain in which they worked and were familiar with. At the time of the Jesuits’ arrival in the Viceroyalty of Peru, the southern American continent had just started to be outlined by Spanish cosmographers. The area around the mouth of the Río de la Plata as well as today’s Venezuela and Colombia had begun to take shape in the earliest Spanish maps. Santa Cruz gave a fair impression of those areas in his Islario from the 1540s. However, the western coast of South America was delineated later than 136
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the eastern and northern ones. That particularly affected maps showing the interior of the continent, which was represented as blank space long after the coast had been discovered and pictured on early maritime charts and in cosmographies. After Gutiérrez mapped out the entire coastline following the campaigns of Pedro de Valdivia in the 1500s, the first cartographic endeavor in the hinterland of the Pacific coast was made by Juan López de Velasco (fig. 47). By mapping the audiencias of Quito, Charcas, and Lima, as well as the Province of Chile, by 1574 Velasco managed to designate the first geographical content in the interior of the continent, including that east of the Andes. The basic hydrographic network and some traces of human geography (several towns and missions) were marked in the interior of the viceroyalty for the first time. Velasco’s maps were soon updated through further efforts by other Spanish mapmakers. One such example is a 1588 map by an anonymous cartographer who reconnaissanced the Cordilleras east of Potosí.175 Showing the area of the Chiriguano people in what is today Bolivia, the map testifies to the early Spanish attempts to spread their power into the interior.176 Based on such updates, Abraham Ortelius managed to compile a new map of Peru, published in his Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, which enabled knowledge about Peru to became widespread.177 The publication of the Historia natural y moral de las Indias (Seville, 1590) by José de Acosta,178 a Spanish Jesuit missionary, explorer, and naturalist who traveled extensively throughout the Viceroyalty of Peru in his almost fifteen years there, was a source of information that enabled the
F igur e 47. Peru and the Andes on a 1574 map by Juan López de Velasco in the edition of Herrera y Tordesillas from 1601. (MacLean Collection)
compilation of new maps. Upon his arrival in Lima in 1571, he was ordered to cross the Andes, apparently to join Don Francisco de Toledo, the viceroy of Peru, in the interior. The viceroy, who had been elected only two years prior to Acosta’s arrival, devoted five years to touring every part of the viceroyalty, mostly accompanied by Acosta. During much of his time in Peru, Acosta resided at Juli, then the principal seat of the Jesuits, exchanging knowledge with his missionary colleagues, and collecting information for his future narrative that was published in 1590. His exploratory work resulted in
the narrative accompanied by maps that enabled the first more detailed insight into the interior of the viceroyalty, including the first establishment of the Jesuits. Cornelius van Wytfliet, a Flemish cartographer, supplemented the existing maps of the Viceroyalty of Peru on the basis of Acosta’s descriptions. He published the maps in his atlas Nouveau Monde (Leuven, 1597), thus significantly expanding the earlier conception of the area. His maps of Peru (Peruviani regni descriptio; fig. 48) and the audiencias of Quito and Charcas (Castilia aurifera cum vicinis provinciis), The Viceroyalty of Peru
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Figur e 48. José de Acosta’s map of Peru, updated by Cornelius van Wytfliet (Leuven, 1597). It contains one of the earliest mention of the province of Moxos. This is the copy from 1603. (MacLean Collection)
Chile (Chili provincia amplissima), and La Plata (Plata Americae provincia) confirm that the interest of European cartographers expanded from the coast deeper into the interior of the continent. These maps would represent the main base for the maps to be published by European commercial cartographic firms in the seventeenth century. Thanks to the activities of the Jesuits, who started to expand their operations along the main rivers that flowed far inland, the maps of Peru also began to include the area of the Upper Amazon in present-day Brazil, while the maps of La Plata covered the wider area of the Paraná and Paraguay basins, where new Jesuit missions of the Viceroyalty of Peru were sprouting up. The depiction of these areas would to a great extent rely precisely on the results of the explorations of Jesuit cartographers. However, some of 138
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the Jesuit cartographers of the Viceroyalty of Peru were not missionaries but royal cartographers or natural scientists. The Viceroyalty of Peru’s striking natural features (the Andes, volcanoes, headwaters of the Amazon, large lakes) attracted the attention of Jesuit natural scientists in Europe. One who was particularly fascinated with South America was the Jesuit polymath Athanasius Kircher.179 While at the Collegio Romano, Kircher became the curator of the university’s museum, which housed natural-history objects sent to Rome by missionaries from around the world. His two richly illustrated volumes of Mundus Subterraneus (Amsterdam, 1665) depicted the interlaced systems of air, fire, and water within the Earth. Numerous small-scale sketches throughout Mundus Subterraneus illustrate particular surface
features and geographical configurations of interest, including a map of the oceans with South America in the middle (plate 13).180 The map was intended to demonstrate Kircher’s theory that the ocean currents were connected to a worldwide system of underground canals and reservoirs connected to aboveground rivers and oceans. In the Andes mountains, he drew an enlarged Lake Titicaca, as he was convinced that the Andean lakes played an important role in hemispheric marine currents. To represent the surface waters of South America, Kircher included a separate map, which testified to his knowledge about South American rivers (he depended heavily on Ovalle and Nicolas Sanson) (fig. 49).181 His maps are devoted exclusively to natural phenomena, making no mention of the Jesuit presence in South American missions and towns. However, because Kircher did not visit South America, the geographical features of the region relied almost entirely on the narratives written by missionaries of the Society who served in the New World. Kircher’s maps are a compendium of South American natural history and a kind of terrestrial counterpart to astronomical observations conducted by leading European scientists, including those from the Jesuit order.182 Among the numerous Jesuits who worked in urban centers of the Viceroyalty of Peru, a certain number distinguished themselves as royal cosmographers and cartographers. This is particularly true of Juan Ramón Koenig, who worked as a professor of cosmography at the College of San Marcos in Lima,183 where he developed a special interest in cartography and mapmaking,
producing several maps based on his own observations. By royal order, in 1672 he conducted the observation of latitude and longitude of Lima, and, as a skilled mathematician and cartographer, was appointed the royal cosmographer of the Viceroyalty of Peru in 1677.184 While Kircher was working on his Mundus Subterraneus, Juan Ramón Koenig began to compile his compendium of geographical knowledge about the Viceroyalty of Peru. Having become a royal cosmographer in 1677, he was able to devote himself entirely to producing a map of Peru. Though much of his legacy was destroyed, several of Ramón’s manuscript maps have survived to this day, documenting his cartographic work. His map of the Viceroyalty of Peru, dating from 1683, summarizes his knowledge of the entire region but also clearly reflects the Spanish policy after the breakup of the Iberian Union (1580– 1640) and restoration of the Portuguese crown (plate 14).185 The map shows the central part of South America, with the Andes mountain range along its western edge and a branched network of rivers flowing into the Atlantic Ocean. Numerous Spanish towns as well as Jesuit reductions between the Paraná and Uruguay Rivers testify to the advanced colonization and the penetration of the Jesuits deep into the provinces of Paraguay. Although it includes a representation of missions, this Jesuit map is not missionary in nature: its purpose was to present the Spanish colonial possessions and justify their territorial claims. The highlighting of the Treaty of Tordesillas Line of Demarcation (Línea de la Demarcación) so far to the east is very significant and reveals how inThe Viceroyalty of Peru
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Figur e 49. Athanasius Kircher’s map as a compendium of South American natural history, which accompanied his Mundus Subterraneus (Amsterdam, 1665). This is a copy from a Dutch edition of the work (Amsterdam, 1682). (MacLean Collection)
volved the map was in the Spanish cause. Colônia do Sacramento was established by the Portuguese in 1680 but was soon occupied by Spain; it was handed back to Portugal by a provisional treaty in 1681.186 The position of the line of Tordesillas much farther to the east was to confirm the Spanish right to Colônia do Sacramento. To affirm the statement on the position of the demarcation line, a Spanish coast of arms is placed west of the line and a Portuguese one east of the line, directly referring to the political context of Spanish territorial affirmation. 2.2.1 The Province of Peru: Mapping the Moxos Missions
Peru is one of the oldest Spanish provinces in the Americas. It was founded in the area of the mighty Inca Empire, which covered much of today’s Peru and Bolivia. After the Spanish conquest of Peru (1532– 37) and the establishment of the Viceroyalty of Peru (1542), the Province of Peru was administered from Lima, the seat of the audiencia founded in 1543. The Jesuits arrived in Peru in 1568, using it as a starting point for spreading their activities to Quito, Paraguay, and Chile.187 Their first college was founded in Lima in 1569, and it was soon followed by others: Cuzco (1571), La Paz (1572), Potosí (1577), Arequipa (1578), Chuquisaca (1592), Huamanga (1604), Oruro (1611), Callao (1616), Pisco (1618), Trujillo (1627), Huancavelica (1644), Moquegua (1713), Cochabamba (1716), Ica (1746), and Bellavista (1758), as well as two resident houses in Juli (1576) and Santa Cruz de la Sierra (1587).188 As in most of the regions, the Jesuits’ activities in Peru interfered with those of other
orders, especially the Franciscans, who established their missions in the Upper Beni region (Apolobamba missions) and the central selva (Peru).189 The development of this region was largely determined by the exploitation of mineral resources. With the discovery of the great silver and gold lodes at Potosí (founded as a mining town in 1545) and Huancavelica (mines built in 1563– 64), the whole of Peru flourished as an important provider of mineral resources. But economic prosperity was not the only thing the rich mines brought to Peru. The mineral wealth of this province attracted predatory groups and slave traders who often raided the area of the Spanish missions from the Portuguese territory.190 In response, subsequent missions were militarized. Jesuit missions in Peru were located on the eastern slopes of the Andes, that is, on the edge of the Amazon basin (llanos), where fertile river valleys were inhabited by the local nation of Moxos (Mojos).191 Situated deep in the tropical interior of presentday Bolivia, the Province of Moxos was one of the last Jesuit provinces to be established. Although isolated by the Andes from the center of the viceroyalty, exploration of the region began as early as in 1539, and by 1669 no fewer than twenty-six expeditions had undertaken in this territory. The reason for the numerous entradas was the search for the mythical city of El Dorado (also known as Paititi), which was believed to be located in the region. The first more detailed maps of the Peruvian interior appeared in the midseventeenth century. Because the missionization of the region had not yet really The Viceroyalty of Peru
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taken root, these smaller-scale maps reflect the government’s interest in a geographical inventory of the territory they strove to control. Ramón’s 1665 map, which shows the area between the Mamoré River and the Río Grande, testifies to the fact that the mapping of the area, which was to become the Jesuit Province of Moxos, was attracting the attention of cartographers even before the evangelization of the local population (fig. 50).192 The map, which is oriented with south at the top, tends to show the area from the direction of La Paz. It depicts the confluence of the rivers Todos Santos (probably the present-day Madre de Dios), Mamoré, and Río Grande (or Río Guapay). Though the basic orientation of their courses is relatively accurate, the hydrographic network is erroneously connected, so that, for example, the Río Grande, that is, the Río Guapay, flows into the Madre de Dios instead of the Mamoré, opening the possibility that the lower Guapay might actually represent the Guaporé. In addition to the hydrographic network and a rough representation of the terrain, the map shows early Spanish settlements, mines, and communities of runaway Indians (indios fugitivos) escaping from Portuguese slave traders. This was probably just another in a series of Ramón’s maps that he ultimately used to compile a 1683 map of the Viceroyalty of Peru. The remoteness of the Moxos region left the Jesuits able to develop missions that were close to their ideal. Although the Moxos missions never reached the economic prosperity of those in Paraguay, they were moderately successful, producing cotton textiles, cacao, and tallow. The first Je142
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suit establishment in the Province of Moxos appeared in 1587 when the Society of Jesus founded a residence house in the town of Santa Cruz de la Sierra, which would serve as a starting point for their penetration into the Moxos and Chiquitos regions.193 Even before the newly formed Province of Moxos was properly explored, information about its existence was noted on José de Acosta’s map Peruani Regni Descriptio (Seville, 1590).194 It was before Father Jerónimo de Andión made the first (unsuccessful) contact with the Moxos in 1595.195 While Ramón and other royal cosmographers were focused on the small-scale mapping of Spanish territory in order to support Spanish territorial claims, Jesuit missionary cartographers were dedicated to the exploration and mapping of their missionary spaces. The first significant breakthrough in regard to missionary mapping did not take place until the second half of the seventeenth century. During the joint expedition of military forces and the Jesuits conducted in 1667, Father Juan de Soto managed to make contact once more with the Moxos. During this expedition de Soto compiled the first Jesuit relation describing the Moxos region and its people.196 For the purpose of this report, his colleague Juan de Guevara, a resident in the Jesuit college of Chuquisaca, compiled a map that shows the itinerary of the expedition as well as the topography of the whole region, which would soon be known as the Jesuit Province of Moxos (fig. 51).197 The map is accompanied by a graticule of longitude (301°– 304° eastward, prime meridian not indicated) and latitude (12°– 18° south) as well as extensive textual insets on the co-
F igur e 5 0. Map of the region that would become the Jesuit province of Moxos, compiled by Juan Ramón Koenig, a royal cosmographer of the Viceroyalty of Peru, in 1665. (Archivo General de Indias)
F igur e 5 1. The oldest known missionary map of the province of Moxos, compiled by Juan de Guevara in 1667, to accompany the account of Father Juan de Soto. Appearing before the establishment of the first Moxos mission, the map contains abundant native toponymy. (© Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu)
lonial history of the region. Oriented with the east at the top, the map shows the region with the Guapay River as its spine. Accidentally or not, nearly all subsequent maps of the Province of Moxos, including the military ones, would also be oriented in an east– west direction, attesting to early mapmakers’ practicality (the province does stretch longitudinally between the Guaporé and Beni Rivers) as well as to the influence that early maps had on later ones. Guevara’s map of the Province of Moxos is based on his firsthand knowledge as well as extensive information collected from the native
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peoples of the region. As a result of this knowledge exchange, numerous tributaries of the Guapay and Mamoré Rivers as well as several mountains are labeled with their names, as heard from the local natives. Ethnonyms such as Raches, Moxos, Muré, Mocatona, Cañacures, Torocosies, Tapacuras, Chiquitos, Chiriguanos, and Yuracarés are placed on the map for the first time. Although there are many shortcomings in the presentation of the hydrographic network (most of the rivers presented as tributaries of the Guapay are actually tributaries of the Mamoré), it was the first map that
identified the locations of numerous indigenous settlements, thus targeting the Jesuits’ points of interest for their future missionary work. Guevara’s map served as the starting point for the next Jesuit attempt to missionize the Moxos. Cypriano Baraza and José del Castillo headed an expedition that took place in 1674. They penetrated from Santa Cruz deep into the Moxos region by canoeing down the Mamoré River, where they encountered an advanced ancient civilization with a highly developed system of farming, cultivation, and irrigation. The first mission, Loreto, was founded in 1682, followed in rapid succession by Trinidad (1687), San Ignacio (1689), San Xavier (1690), San José (1691), and San (Francisco de) Borja (1693), the six missions soon containing altogether nearly twenty thousand local native people.198 It remained unknown whether Father Baraza made any maps during his expeditions.199 Despite significant casualties (including the martyrdom of two Jesuit priests), the missions proved relatively successful. In 1716 the procurator of Peru in Madrid, Francisco de Rotalde, requested additional financial support for the Moxos missions. Rotalde’s request was accompanied by a Jesuit relation written in 1713 by a Father Mejía and a corresponding map of the Province of Moxos drafted by an anonymous cartographer.200 Although the map itself has no date, the caption of the table in the lower right-hand corner of the map refers explicitly to the year 1713, so the map was almost certainly compiled that year (fig. 52). Because the preserved copy is a copperplate
prepared by Pierre Ganière, a well-known Parisian map engraver who died in 1713, the printed version of the map was definitely produced around that year.201 The map, which was based on an anonymous original manuscript, presents the area between the Beni and Mamoré Rivers, summarizing the geographical knowledge of the Province of Moxos in the early eighteenth century.202 The map is accompanied by a graticule of longitude (301°– 309° east, prime meridian not indicated) and latitude (11°– 20° south), a scale (leguas castellanas), an attractive title cartouche, and a table of missions with the number of their inhabitants. Just like Guevara’s map, it is oriented with east at the top. The eastern slopes of the Andes are represented by shaded hills, while forest areas are denoted by small trees and decorated with illustrations of animals such as leopards, birds, and snakes. A dotted line marks the western border of the region, while an extensive narrative along both margins describes the province and the missions of Moxos. The upper and lower edges of the map were entirely dedicated to the celebration of the martyrdom of the venerable Fathers Cypriano Baraza and Balthazar de Espinosa, two Jesuit missionaries to the Province of Moxos.203 In this sense, this map of Moxos belongs among the typical representations of the Jesuit provinces marked by a strong Jesuit semiotics in the depiction of the area. However, the complex physical geography of the terrain, especially the highly branched hydrographic network, the depiction of which is owed to the missionaries’ painstaking observations, makes this map an important contribution
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F igur e 5 2 . Map of the province of Moxos, attached to a report written by Father Mejía in 1713 and prepared by an anonymous Jesuit author. This is its printed edition prepared in 1713 by Pierre Ganière. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
to the hydrography of the boundary parts of the Amazon basin. The map shows the Moxos missions (reductions). Although sixteen Moxos missions are listed in the table in the corner of the map, only fifteen of them are noted on the map proper. Along the Mamoré are Loreto, Trinidad, San Javier, San Pedro, and Exaltación de la Cruz; in the east are Concepción, San Joaquin, and San Juan; and to the west of the Mamoré are San Ignacio, San José, San Luis, San Borja, San Pablo, and Santos Reyes. The census also 146
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records the mission of Santa Ana, with two hundred inhabitants, but the village is not shown on the map. The map also leaves out the location of Santa Rosa (in present-day Chapare), established in 1705 on the bank of the Mamoré— probably because the mission was relocated. In the Baures region, the author of the map notes the existence of the town of San Martín, which was officially established as a mission in 1717; this prompts the speculation that the mission was founded a little before 1717. To the west of the Province of Moxos are
noted the towns of Cuzco, Pelechucho, San Juan, Apolobamba, La Paz, Cochabamba, and Mizque. In yet another case of cartographic silence, numerous other places that are marked on the map (with a simple circle) but unnamed obviously represent settlements of unbaptized natives. However, following the conventions of Jesuit cartography, the map carefully notes the names of native nations. Demonstrating the multiethnicity of the Province of Moxos, the author designated numerous groups, including the Mojos, Chimanos, Ramanos, Movimas, Chiribas, Toromonas, Cayuvavas, Raches, Chiriguanos, Chiquitos, Yuracarés, Tapacuras, Itonamas, Baures, and Guarayos.204 While rich in human landscape, in terms of physical geography the map is burdened with a series of errors. Insufficient knowledge is especially visible in the outskirts of the Province of Moxos, where the Itonomas River (marked as Ytonomas on the map) flows into the Guaporé (the Spanish Río Iténez), and not into the Mamoré River. This map served as the main cartographic source for the representation of the Province of Moxos for a very long time. Furlong provides interesting testimony about the existence of a map of Moxos, made in 1715 by Father Antonio Garriga (1622– 1733),205 which was kept in the Archive of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Bolivia but is now considered lost.206 According to Furlong’s brief description, the 1715 map covered the same region as the one from 1713. Clearly these two maps are closely related; it is possible that they are identical in both content and author. The 1713 map strongly influenced Juan Francisco
Dávila’s famous 1722 map of the Province of Paraguay (published in 1726), whose presentation of the Moxos missions relies entirely on the 1713 map (see section 2.2.4 on Paraguay). Thanks to the subsequent editions of the 1713 Moxos map, its content became well-known not only to other Jesuits, but also to all European commercial cartographers. A reprint of the Moxos map was soon included in the Lettres édifiantes.207 The editor of this French series of The Jesuit Relations, Jean-Baptiste Du Halde, prepared an edition of the map to accompany a report on the martyrdom of Cypriano Baraza and Balthazar de Espinosa (fig. 53). Regarding geographical content, the 1717 map is almost a complete copy of its 1713 template, but its visual aspect is quite different. As a result of its considerably smaller format, the rich illustrations as well as the extensive texts on the 1713 edition are excluded. Another novelty is the new orientation of the map— the 1717 version is oriented with north at the top, probably to better fit the page. Although at first sight the map may seem abundant in toponymy, a more detailed inspection reveals a rather different reality. In numerous cases, the editor confuses place-names with ethnonyms, so many settlements are given names of native ethnic groups instead of place-names. Moreover, a number of settlements present on the 1713 template are absent. All this is also true of the German edition of the map, published in Der Neue Welt-Bott, which obviously relied upon the French edition of 1717 and not upon its 1713 original (fig. 54).208 Thanks to these editions of the 1713 Moxos map, geographical knowledge The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 5 3. French edition of 1713 map of Moxos. It was published in Lettres édifiantes in 1717 to accompany a report on the martyrdom of Cypriano Baraza and Balthazar de Espinosa . (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
F igur e 5 4. German edition of the 1713 map of Moxos published in Der Neue Welt-Bott in 1726. The French and German editions vary only slightly, in the symbols used for relief and woods and in the lettering and cartouche. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
of this remote region was made available to other cartographers as well. The expansion of the Moxos missions toward the east and south coincides with the Treaty of Madrid (1750), which defined a new demarcation line between the Spanish and Portuguese Empires in South America. Because the Treaty of Madrid recognized Portuguese territorial expansion far to the west, the Guaporé River and the Province of Moxos, once deep in Spanish territory, after 1750 became the Portuguese border, where Brazil and the Viceroyalty of Peru met. The diplomatic agreement, which defined the new border, guaranteed to Portugal dominion over the eastern bank of the Guaporé, which meant that the Jesuit mission of Santa Rosa, established on the eastern bank seven years earlier, was to be given up. Although the Spanish Jesuits relocated their mission to the right bank, raids by Portuguese slave hunters continued. Consequently, the Jesuit missions of Moxos were given a new task: preventing Portuguese incursions into Spanish territory. The Province of Moxos became the borderland between the two mighty empires. Disputes and incursions of slave traders from the Portuguese side, which often disrupted the Jesuit missions around the Mamoré and Beni Rivers, intensified Spain’s interest in this isolated region, which witnessed numerous frontier conflicts between the Spanish and the Portuguese and the struggles of both with hostile native groups. Constructed near the confluence of the Guaporé and Mamoré in the late eighteenth century, the Forte Príncipe da Beira is a reminder of that era.209 The new role assigned to the province as a borderland of the Spanish Empire 150
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was followed by its intensified mapping, in which, again, the Jesuits played a key role. Karl Hirschko, a Jesuit missionary from the Bohemian province, arrived in Peru to serve as a missionary among the Moxos just at the time of the demarcation of the new Spanish-Portuguese border.210 At the invitation of José Antonio Manso de Velasco, the viceroy of Peru, Hirschko took part in the demarcation of Spanish territory.211 To help with the demarcation, in about 1751, Hirschko compiled a map, based on Spanish and Portuguese maps of their territories, that shows a wide area between the Madeira River in the north all the way to the Guaporé and Mamoré Rivers in the south (plate 15). This manuscript map, oriented with south at the top, is accompanied by a graticule of latitude (0°– 20° south) and longitude (300°– 330° east of Ferro). Although his map was a compilation, Hirschko managed to successfully merge geographic knowledge of Portuguese territory along the Amazon with that of Spanish territory in the south, areas that were otherwise very rarely presented on the same map. He was thus one of the first cartographers to correctly delineate the connection between the Guaporé, Mamoré, Beni (the latter indicated as the Río Manu by Hirschko), and Madre de Dios Rivers with the Río Madiera and Río Marañón (see again, e.g., the presentation of the same region on Brentano’s 1751 map). However, he did keep the presentation of the mythical Lake Xarayes in present-day Pantanal. Besides the hydrographic network, Hirschko presented all the missions, towns, and settlements of the native population, which were already present on previous Spanish and Portuguese maps.
As expected, Hirschko was well informed about the status of the missions in Moxos, as well as those in neighboring Chiquitania. He therefore accurately marked all the existing missions that were established in those regions before 1750. He knew that the Chiquitos mission of San Ignacio was abandoned in 1748 (and thus omitted it from his map), and he was also well acquainted with the old Moxos missions situated along the border at the Guaporé. Accordingly, he presented the abandoned mission of Santa Rosa (Santa Rosa la Vieja), founded on the eastern bank of the Guaporé in 1743, as well as the new mission of Santa Rosa, established on the opposite bank in 1751 by the Treaty of Madrid. He also indicated the reestablished mission of San Miguel, now situated on the Río Baures (the old San Miguel mission on the Guaporé was broken up by the raids of Portuguese slave hunters after 1742). However, the new Spanish-Portuguese border is not marked on Hirschko’s map. The process was still pending, and Hirschko waited for the final settlement of the demarcation, which did not occur until 1777. Hirschko returned to Europe and in 1782 went to Vienna to meet with the Spanish ambassador Conde de Aguilar, whom he presented with a report on his work in Peru accompanied by the aforementioned map.212 The tensions along the border, which continued throughout the 1760s, encouraged further Jesuit mapping. A new map compiled in about 1764, which the Jesuit Father Juan de Beingolea attached to his missionary report and distributed to various administrations, attests to how the Jesuit cartography of Moxos evolved (plate 16).213
A map of the province by an anonymous cartographer that appeared shortly before the suppression shows the status of Jesuit missions in 1764. Discreetly decorated with the Jesuit emblem, it shows the area between 303°– 313° east longitude (prime meridian not indicated) and 10°– 20° south latitude. It is a rather conventional missionary map with reference to major Spanish cities (Significa Ciudad Españoles), villages of Christianized natives (pueblo de Indians Christianos), and villages of unbaptized natives (estaciones Indios infidelis). Although heavily relying on the 1713 map, this one extends to the north and east, showing the confluence of the Beni, Mamoré, and Guaporé Rivers with the Madre de Dios River, as well as the border region of the Guaporé and Baures Rivers. This small but significant extension of the map to the north and east reflects the situation created by the demarcation imposed by the Treaty of Madrid. The intensified interest in the border area of the Province of Moxos resulted in significant improvements in the presentation of its easternmost part, situated between the Guaporé and Baures Rivers. This part of the province was experiencing difficult times caused by frequent Portuguese intrusions. Although it was relocated from the Guaporé to the Baures River, the mission of San Miguel was destroyed by the Portuguese once again in 1763. Relocated in 1751, the mission of Santa Rosa was also abandoned owing to an epidemic in 1763. Nearby, on the Portuguese side of the Guaporé, the fort of Nossa Senhora da Conceição, built in 1760, is marked for the first time.214 Its construction was part of the militarization of the Guaporé River’s east bank, which The Viceroyalty of Peru
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began with the foundation of Vila Bela da Santíssima Trindade as the new capital of the Captaincy of Mato Grosso, strategically located on the upper Guaporé, in 1752 (not presented on this map) and continued with the erection of the aforementioned fort on the lower Guaporé Apart from the borderland area with Portuguese territory, the map shows all the Moxos missions, with their statuses noted. Besides numerous missions among the Moxos, Baures, Movimas, and Cayubabas, some of the missions, such as San Pablo and San Luis, are marked as deserted (dejado). Curiously, San José, whose disappearance due to an epidemic was recorded in the written report (1752), is marked on this map as active. This discrepancy is probably the result of an attempt to reestablish or revitalize this mission, which could have happened in the 1760s. Numerous tributaries of the Mamoré and Beni Rivers are noted for the first time, which attests to better knowledge of the province’s physical geography. However, the region’s complex hydrographic network continued to confuse Jesuit cartographers. There is a lot of uncertainty in the presentation of some of the rivers; thus, for example, the Río Beni is here erroneously named Sevene, while one of the tributaries of the Mamoré is named Beni. A dotted line in the south of the province marks the border between the jurisdiction of the Jesuit Province of Moxos and that of the Franciscan missions situated west of the Río Beni, thus demonstrating another demarcation issue important for the history of the province. Owing to the new geostrategic situation, for the first time not only the Jesuits 152
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but also Spanish officials started to map the new borderland. The benefit was mutual. The military mapping of the Province of Moxos would strongly depend on previous Jesuit maps, just as Jesuit mapmakers would benefit from the content of the military maps of the region. The military map created by Antonio Aymerich y Villajuana in June 1764, which shows the route of the Spanish expedition taken to resolve the border dispute with the Portuguese, relied heavily on the Jesuit map attached to Beingolea’s report from January 1764 (fig. 55).215 The last Jesuit map of the Province of Moxos that was compiled in the time of the suppression was made by the Slovak Jesuit František Xaver Eder, who worked among the Moxos and Chiriguanos.216 He spent more than fifteen years at a station situated at the farthest reaches from Santa Cruz, at the boundary of the Province of Moxos. Between 1749 and 1767 he traveled frequently in the vicinity of the Mamoré River and its tributaries and thus developed a strong interest in geography and in the traditions of the native Moxos population, examining the climate, topography, flora, fauna, and indigenous traditions of the region.217 Around 1767 he drew a map showing the area between 9°– 21° south latitude and 304°– 321° east longitude (prime meridian not indicated; fig. 56).218 Eder greatly improved the presentation of the whole region over with different editions of the 1713 map as well the Jesuit map of 1764. Though he did not show the eastern slopes of the Andes, which had been included in the 1713 map, his representation of the complex hydrographic system of the upper Amazon demonstrates remarkable progress. For the
F igur e 5 5. Military map of the Province of Moxos compiled in 1764 by Antonio Aymerich y Villajuana. Although made to present the route of the Spanish expedition along the nearby Spanish-Portuguese border, the map bears a strong resemblance to the Jesuit map of 1764. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
first time we can see designated and named all the tributaries of the Beni and Mamoré, including the Guaporé as the new Spanish– Portuguese border, where he very carefully indicated the border guardhouses of Spain (estancia de españoles) and Portugal (estancia de portugueses). The Río Grande, the longest tributary of the Mamoré, is represented in its full length from Loreto to the Cochabamba region. In the central part of the map, two itineraries are marked. The first one (marked with the letter A) shows the part of the military route established
by Officer Antonio Monasterio y Azua in 1766 for the purpose of connecting the Moxos missions and the borderland along the Guaporé with the nearby city of Cochabamba.219 The second route that Eder noted on his map (marked with the letter B) concerns the expedition of Francisco y Medina, conducted under the leadership of Nicolas de Castro in 1767, in order to establish better connections between Loreto and Cochabamba and thus reestablish control over certain border missions disputed by the Portuguese.220 Eder was undoubtedly The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 5 6. Jesuit map of the Province of Moxos, produced by František Xaver Eder soon after the suppression of the order. The map reflects the influence of military maps of the region produced between 1764 and 1767. (University Library and Archives of Eötvös Loránd University, Budapest)
well informed not only about the aforementioned military expeditions, but also about the Spanish maps produced as a result of those movements. Reflections of the military mapping campaigns of 1764– 67 can be clearly recognized on Eder’s map.221 However, when it comes to the representation of the hydrographic network, Eder’s map shows no significant correlation with the military maps, thus confirming that he explored the river network and based his presentation on his firsthand knowledge. Eder finished his map only upon his return to Europe, after the suppression of the order. This is confirmed by the tense he 154
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used to designate his Jesuit province in the title of his map (. . . de la Provincia que fue del Peru). Upon arriving back in his home country, Eder continued his research. Between 1769 and 1772 he compiled an extensive narrative about the Province of Moxos and finalized his map, which he attached to his manuscript. Unfortunately, Eder died in 1772, so his manuscript was published by Pál Makó almost twenty years later. Makó shortened Eder’s original narrative, adding his own comments to the book.222 Makó prepared a map, based on Eder’s original, that was folded into the book (fig. 57).223 Although he relied on Eder’s original map,
F igur e 57. Barely recognizable as based on a map by František Xaver Eder of the Province of Moxos, this edition is by Pál Makó (Budapest, 1791). (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
Makó’s editorial interventions were quite extreme. In order to include most of Peru in his map, Makó supplemented Eder’s original with other cartographic sources. Although Makó failed to mention these other sources, his main template was no doubt Jacques-Nicolas Bellin’s map Suite du Perou Audience de Charcas (Paris, 1771).224 Makó used Eder’s original only as a base for his presentation of the Province of Moxos. However, even in this region Makó intervened significantly in Eder’s autograph. In addition, he reduced the number of the settlements he marked and completely removed the references to Portuguese colonization and military tension along the border. For Makó, these facts were not a priority, while for Eder, this experience was
one of the main reasons for compiling the map. Eder’s map in Makó’s edition testifies to how extensive editorial interventions could be, erasing any trace of the original purpose and distinguished style of Jesuit cartography. 2.2.2 The Jesuit Cartography of Chile: Between Mythology and Utilitarianism
Chile has a very complex history and has been plagued with long-lasting conflicts and destruction. In the conquest of Chile, which started with the arrival of Pedro de Valdivia in 1540, the Europeans suffered repeated setbacks. Because it was a very warlike territory, Chile had a special status as The Viceroyalty of Peru
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the Kingdom of Chile, established as early as 1541. Chile never reached the status of a viceroyalty and was instead classified as a captaincy general. It was thus ruled by the military and not by a nobleman, such as a viceroy. The Arauco War, a long-running conflict between colonial Spaniards and the Mapuche people that started in the midsixteenth century and lasted more than two hundred years, strongly influenced not only the colonial history of Chile but also Jesuit activities in that country. After many initial Spanish successes in penetrating the Mapuche territory, the Battle of Curalaba in 1598 marked a turning point in the war, leading to the establishment of a clear frontier between the Spanish domains in the north and the land of the independent Mapuches in the south. Subsequent major insurrections continued through the seventeenth century, and each time the Mapuches and other native groups revolted, the southern border of the colony was driven northward. The Spanish did not find extensive lodes of gold and silver, as they did in Peru, so they turned instead to the agricultural potential of Chile’s central valley. The lack of powerful urban centers, that is, the domination of rural agrarian society, made it difficult to establish and maintain colonial government and also hindered the activities of Jesuit missionaries. The first Jesuits arrived in Chile in 1583. The Jesuit Vice Province of Chile was established in 1607 as part of the Jesuit Province of Paraguay. In 1625 Chile became a vice province dependent on Peru, and from 1683 onward it was an autonomous province of Chile.225 The colonization of Chile began along the central part of its Pacific coast 156
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(1540– 48). Therefore, the main region of Jesuit activity in Chile was the area south of Santiago, which was inhabited by the Mapuches (from Chopa in the north to the Río Toltén in the south), the Huilliches and Chonos (from the Río Toltén to the Chiloé Archipelago), and the Poyas and Puelches (the Transandine region). Jesuit activity in Chile was focused on three major regions. In the region of Araucanía, south of the Biobío River, the first mission was established as early as 1595. Although, after the Mapuche revolt of 1598, many of the cities and missions between the Biobío River and the Chacao Channel were abandoned or destroyed, many of them were later restored. Until 1720 the region of Araucanía had more than twenty missions (including the area of Fort Valdivia, which was a separate jurisdiction). The second region of Jesuit activity was the Chiloé Archipelago (Archipiélago de Chiloé), which included Chiloé Island and numerous smaller islands on which, from 1608 onward, the largest number of Chilean missions were established (until 1757 as many as fifty-seven missions existed in the archipelago).226 In 1670 the first mission appeared on Nahuel Huapi Lake, situated on the eastern slopes of the Andes, establishing the Transandine region as the third major Jesuit region in Chile.227 Due to the highly complex work conditions and the difficulty of maintaining their missions on numerous islands and in the rugged Andean mountains, the Jesuits established a system of missions known as the Circular Mission (Misión Circular), and it became a long-lasting characteristic of their missionary activity in Chile. These missions did not have a permanent missionary; in-
stead, a group of missionaries would visit the missions and stay in each of them for only a few days before continuing on to the next mission. During the Jesuits’ absence, the maintenance of the missions was left to “fiscals,” laypersons who were appointed by the community itself and were entrusted by the Jesuits to continue the missionary work in their absence. The first Jesuit map of Chile was probably made by Father Luis de Valdivia, but it is now considered lost.228 It is known only from the Jesuit account compiled by Diego de Rosales and Juan de Olivares, who noted that, after the 1598 revolt, Father Valdivia showed a map of the demarcation line situated along the Biobío River to the king of Spain during his visit to court in 1610.229 However, a possible copy of that map is preserved in Spain (fig. 58).230 A simple sketch made in about 1610, which shows the outlines of the Kingdom of Chile, presents the consequences of the 1598 revolt and the sixyear struggle that followed. Although it includes the entire territory of Chile— from its border in the north to Chiloé Island in the south— the map is focused on the region of Araucanía, site of the 1598 revolt. Almost all the Spanish settlements south of the Biobío River, with the exception of
those in the Chiloé Archipelago, were eliminated. The names of cities— Angol, Imperial, Villarrica, Osorno, and Valdivia— are crossed out, indicating their destruction by the natives.231 Following the 1598 revolt and the subsequent loss of the cities and forts south of the Biobío River, the Spanish authorities started to rebuild the system of forts and fortified towns, forming a new borderland known as La Frontera, and between 1601 and 1610 about twenty forts were built. The map shows some of the forts, such as Nacimiento,232 Monterrey de la Frontera,233 San Jeronimo,234 San Pedro de la Paz,235 Arauco,236 Lebú,237 and Paicavi.238 According to the proposal of Luis de Valdivia, the line along the Biobío River was suggested as the frontier separating the Spanish zone in the north from the Mapuche independent territory in the south; only missionaries would be permitted to enter the south from the Spanish side. In return, the Mapuches would warn the Spaniards of the arrival of pirate ships on their coast. Although the agreement between the Spanish authorities and Mapuches was signed in 1612, the peace soon collapsed. One of the oldest Jesuit maps of Chile, which also included all of Patagonia, was made by the Chilean Jesuit Alonso de
F igur e 5 8. Early sketch of Chile documenting the consequences of the 1598 Mapuche rebellion. It focuses on the region south of the Biobío River, where an independent territory of the Mapuche was recognized in 1612. The drawing, which appeared in 1610, was possibly the work of Luis de Valdivia. (Archivo General de Indias) The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 5 9. Map of Chile by Alonso de Ovalle (larger version), prepared as a pictorial counterpart to his narrative Histórica relación del Reyno de Chile (Rome, 1646). It is based on a compilation of various sources to which Ovalle refers in his extensive explanatory note. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
Ovalle (fig. 59),239 a Creole born in Santiago and educated at a Jesuit college. His journey to and back from Paraguay across the Andes appears to have been crucial in spurring his interest in geography and cartography. In 1642 he was sent to Spain as Chile’s first procurator general, responsible for managing the interests of Chilean Jesuits in Seville, Madrid, and Rome.240 Upon his arrival in Spain, Ovalle was disheartened to learn of Europe’s ignorance of Chile. He traveled frequently between Spain and Italy, recruiting missionaries and visiting the archives. In 1646 he decided to publish a book on the history of Chile in Rome (Histórica relación del Reyno de Chile).241 To accompany it, Ovalle prepared two maps of Chile (smaller and larger) that vividly documented the extent to which European knowledge characterized this part of South America as a land of exotic animals and wild 158
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Indians.242 Ovalle made his maps in Rome by compiling different sources, primarily the Mapa de Chile by the Franciscan friar Gregorio de León, which dates to about 1625.243 The larger map, oriented with east at the top, shows the region from the town of Copiapó, which Ovalle located at 25° south, to 64° south latitude, just south of Cape Horn. In comparing Ovalle’s map with those of his predecessors, we can see significant progress in regard to the knowledge of coastal regions. Although many errors in the presentation of the Atlantic coast remain, the Pacific coast and the western slopes of the Andes are presented in a remarkably detailed manner in regard to physical and human geography. All the major rivers, lakes, and springs are clearly designated. Along the Pacific coast Ovalle managed to note a significant number of Catholic cities and missions in their correct order, although they are separated
from the rest of the continent by the Andes. Because many of the missions were situated in the Chiloé Archipelago, Ovalle included many of the islands, paying special attention to the representation of Chiloé Island and its missions. To the north of Santiago he designated the rich mines of gold, copper, and lapis lazuli as well as numerous medical herbs. The capital city of Santiago and the port of Valdivia are described in separate inserts. The presentation of the Andean ridge by shaded hills and smoking volcanic peaks follows the conventions of the seventeenthcentury European cartography. Because the map appeared just after the Treaty of Quillin of 1641, the first peace treaty signed during the lengthy Arauco War that recognized the political and territorial independence of the Mapuches, Ovalle paid special attention to the presentation of the region south of the Biobío River. Along the Biobío, two notes clearly attest to the new territorial changes recognized by the peace treaty: the north bank is designated as a territory under Spanish jurisdiction (Praesidium Hispanorum), while the south bank is indicated as a military frontier (Confinia Belli). In the area south of the Biobío, many of the forts and fortified cities are noted that were rebuilt after the 1598 revolt, giving us detailed insight into the Mapuche territory. Two panoramas in the margin of the map emphasize the importance of the peace treaty. The vignette in the right-hand margin portrays the Arauco War between the Spanish and the native Americans along the Biobío, and in the vignette in the left-hand margin we see the Peace Treaty of Quillin of 1641, which acknowledged the indigenous peoples’ control of the south and was
agreed upon between the governor of Chile, the Marquis of Baides, and the Mapuche chief Antesignanus.244 South of Araucanía, Ovalle depicted Chiloé Island, of which he attached a separate map showing the island at a larger scale, with Castro as the seat of the Jesuit mission established in 1609.245 Apart from a detailed map of Chiloé, Ovalle accompanied his narrative with the plans of Santiago, Valparaiso, Coquimbo, and Quintero, but those plans, although apparently accurate, were truly vestigial, reflecting the very slow development of this part of the Spanish Empire. Although Ovalle was well informed about the parts of Chile where colonial power had taken root, other regions were quite unknown to him. In contrast to the well-known Pacific coast, wilderness, desert, unusual animals, and even bizarre people are predominant in the presentation of the interior of Patagonia. Among the illustrations inserted into the map are images of the mythical City of the Caesars,246 Patagonian giants,247 men with tails, and a woman clothed in mud.248 The map’s apparent ambiguity, composed of the colonial power’s benevolence and the representation of the land’s native inhabitants as barbarians, was by no means unique to Ovalle. The idealized image of America as a paradisiacal land of great natural resources contrasts with the monstrous image of the native inhabitants. These peoples, according to the discursive strategy deployed by European authorities (even in the work of Creole Jesuits such as Ovalle), needed to be civilized and enlightened.249 Because the exploration of the region was still at a very early stage, Ovalle had to The Viceroyalty of Peru
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rely on vague reports such as those of the expeditions of the Spanish Captain Diego Flores de León (1620) or the Jesuit Father Diego de Rosales (1653), who described the famous Nahuel Huapi Lake.250 Aware of the inadequacy of his knowledge, Ovalle decided to combine information from Spanish and indigenous sources as well as materials from the European imagination, merging them together. In that sense, Ovalle’s map testifies to an exchange of information with the native inhabitants. Because the courses of the Desaguadero, Deseado, Negro, Colorado, and Santa Cruz Rivers had not yet been explored, they could not have appeared on this map without the help of the natives. Ovalle was often diverted by his interest for the unusual and marvelous, so he decided to apply a new semiotics to the region, expressed by the numerous illustrations he inserted into the map. Although the European cartographic language usually used images just to fill in gaps and reinforce the description of the unexplored region as remote and hostile, Ovalle offered a key to a different reading of the map. Patagonia is shown as a land of indigenous hunters and farmers. Serving the objectives of the order, the map represents the whole region as a humanized territory, endowed with history, rich with flora and fauna, and therefore capable of being incorporated into the mission project.251 Ovalle added additional imagined attractions to the abundance of nature represented on his map, such as cinnamon, cassia, and pepper plants growing along the Strait of Magellan.252 His extensive explanatory note, in which he refers to Gregorio de León, Johannes and Theodor de Bry, Johannes de Laet, and Antonio de 160
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Herrera y Tordesillas, further confirms his statement on Patagonia as a region of fertile and metalliferous land with good potential for future evangelization. The map, dedicated to King Philip IV of Spain and Pope Innocent X, was intended to support Ovalle’s petition for assistance for missionaries to Chile. Ovalle’s presentation of Chile would influence the way in which the country was shown on maps for about 150 years, until about 1780.253 According to the Treaty of Quillin of 1641, the Spanish authorities had to dismantle the few remaining fortresses and retreat north of the Biobío River. However, according to the decisions made by the Parliament of Quillin (1647), the Spaniards started to reestablish their forts in the Mapuches’ territory, which led to repeated uprisings by the Mapuches (1655, 1712, and 1723). This seriously hampered the Jesuits’ activities. Many of the missions were abandoned or destroyed, and the Jesuits began to explore the possibility of spreading their activities into the Transandine region. In order to pacify the region inhabited by Puelches and Poyas, Nicolò Mascardi (1624– 1674) crossed the Andes and in 1670 established the mission of Our Lady of the Populo, situated on the shores of Nahuel Huapi Lake. The mission lasted until his death in 1674. It was reestablished in 1689 by José de Zúñiga and closed again in 1693. In 1702 Felipe de la Laguna and Juan José Guillelmo reestablished it once more; both of them were poisoned, and the mission was lost closed in 1716.254 Although Mascardi played an important role in the establishment of astronomical observations in the New World, no Jesuit maps dating from that period have been found.
The second major attempt to spread the missions into the Transandine region was made by Bernhard Havestadt, a German Jesuit who worked among the Araucanians for almost twenty years.255 He undertook his two mission trips from the end of October 1751 until March 1752. During the first trip he visited numerous native settlements of Araucanía, situated between Concepción and Valdivia. Then he decided to cross the Andes and continue his missionary work in the Transandine region, traversing more than 3000 km (1,864 miles) altogether. Based on his travel experience and explorations, in 1752 Havestadt compiled a map that presented the Araucanian and Transandine missions and native settlements and traced his route, which he designated with a set of numbers (fig. 60).256 It is a north-oriented map that runs from the Maule River, situated at 35°30′ south latitude, to 39° south (there is no indication of longitude). Although to help future travelers Havestadt was careful to depict rivers and mountain ridges, this is a true missionary map, focused on the presentation of the region’s cultural landscape. The explanation key shows that Havestadt designated all Spanish forts (both existing and abandoned) and Jesuit missions (both existing and abandoned), as well as native settlements. Represented by a vertical row of hills and volcanoes, the Andean chain divides the map into two parts. To the west of the Andes we can see the Araucanía region where Havestadt served. To the north of the Biobío River Havestadt noted his home mission of Santa Fe, situated near the Spanish fort. South of the Biobío, numerous native settlements stretch all the way to Valdivia
in the south. During his trip Havestadt baptized many of the region’s native inhabitants and erected many crosses in their villages. However, according to Havestadt’s map, most of the Araucanian settlements were run by local tribal chiefs without the interference of missionaries. Havestadt’s map was the first since Ovalle’s map of 1646 to provide original insights into the missionary and mapping activities of the Jesuits in the eighteenth century, particularly in his presentation of the Transandine region. Although, during the second half of the seventeenth century and the first half of the eighteenth century, the Jesuits made exploratory journeys through the indigenous territories of the eastern slope of the Andes, no general maps of the region were produced. Bernhard Havestadt’s map was the first to present the so-called circular missions of the Transandine region, situated between Mendoza in the north and Neuquén in the south and indicated by small triangles. In that sense, Havestadt’s map was an important step forward, as it brought more reliable information on the geography of Chile’s difficult-to-access interior. Havestadt’s 1752 map was later published in his book Chilidúgu: sive res chilenses (Münster, 1777).257 What was atypical of Havestadt’s map was that, although it was published after the suppression, it specifically mentioned the Society of Jesus and therefore maintained Jesuit iconography in the form of decorative cartouches depicting a Jesuit monk (perhaps Havestadt himself?).258 It was thus extremely important for the map, together with the book, to be published in Germany, which, like Italy and Austria, tolerated the Jesuits even afThe Viceroyalty of Peru
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Figur e 6 0. Map of Chile compiled by Bernhard Havestadt based on his field trips of 1751 and 1752. The map was published upon the suppression in his narrative Chilidúgu, sive Res Chilenses (Münster, 1777). (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
ter the suppression of the order. The map was published again in the Latin edition of Havestadt’s book (Leipzig, 1883). Because of the devastation of numerous missions in Araucanía, up to the mideighteenth century Chiloé was the chief mission in Chile. Through the system of circular missions, numerous native villages stayed under the control of the Jesu162
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its. When weather conditions permitted, the Jesuits would organize a visitation of a larger number of missions, which were visited during one longer trip. One such visitation took place in 1757– 58 when two German Jesuits, Michael Mayer and Melchior Strasser,259 compiled a detailed map of the Chiloé Archipelago and its missions (fig. 61).260 The map was part of their ac-
F igur e 61. Map of the Chiloé Archipelago, compiled by Michael Meyer and Melchior Strasser as part of their relation of 1757– 58. (Archivo General de Indias)
count written in the right-hand and bottom margins of the map, while on the left-hand side a full list of the missions was displayed. In the bottom margin was a geographical description of the region with navigational details, such as tides, currents, and other information important for navigation. The map of the Chiloé Archipelago and part of the adjacent mainland shows the route of the Jesuit visitation of 1757– 58 and all the missions, which constituted three parishes: Castro, Chacao, and Calbuco. They categorized the missions into three categories: the site of the collegium (Castro), missions with a Jesuit residence house (Castro, Chacao, and Calbuco), and missions with a chapel (all the others). Altogether, the authors of the map noted the existence of seventy-six missions. Although composed for missionary purposes, the map also clearly speaks to Spanish colonial authorities’ concern over losing control of these regions. That fear had grown continuously since the appearance of George Anson in those waters in 1741. The map is accompanied by a grid of latitude (41°– 45° south) and longitude (304°– 306° eastward, probably from Tenerife) and a compass rose with the magnetic declination indicated. It is constructed on a large scale and was obviously based on a maritime map— a thoroughly logical choice, since the Chiloé missions were situated in the archipelago and the Jesuits traveled by boat. The crucial question is to what extent the 1758 map was an original Jesuit work. Some clues can be found in the 1791 Franciscan account of Pedro González de Agüeros, in which he published a map somewhat similar to the Jesuit map of 1758.261 Ex164
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plaining the origin of his map, González de Agüeros said that it was based on the map of the archipelago that was sent to the viceroy of Peru in 1752, thus confirming the existence an earlier map of the region that could have served as a template for Jesuits as well. This leads us to the conclusion that the Jesuit map of 1758 was derived from the same manuscript maritime map, which was probably kept secret.262 That this was a very rare and closely guarded map is further confirmed by the fact that the maps of Chiloé published in the second half of the eighteenth century by such prominent hydrographers as, for example, Jacques-Nicolas Bellin lagged far behind the 1758 Jesuit map in their scale and accuracy. A greater exchange of knowledge between military authorities and Jesuit missionaries in Chile appeared immediately before the suppression of the order. This is evidenced by Jesuit map of the Chonos Archipelago that appeared just after their expulsion. It was based on the Jesuit expedition that took place between October 1766 and January 1767 under the leadership of the experienced missionary José García Alsué.263 His extensive diary explains how and why this trip was undertaken.264 The expedition, which lasted three months, was well equipped with several pirogues and accompanied by native guides as well by Spanish soldiers. Although the formal goal of the expedition was to missionize the Chonos Archipelago, one of the real reasons was of purely political: the governor of Chile wanted the Jesuit priest to explore the coast in search signs of a possible English station in the Patagonian canals. For their navigation they used a military map prepared by
Pl ate 1. Title page of the Geographia Artificialis by Heinrich Scherer (Munich, 1703) displaying the contemporary influence of science during the Age of Encounter and Exploration. (Courtesy of the Glen McLaughlin Map Collection of California as an Island, David Rumsey Map Center, Stanford Libraries)
Pl ate 2. Heinrich Scherer’s world map Societas Iesu Per universum mundum diffusa Praedicat Christi Evangelium, published in his Atlas Novus (Munich, 1702). The iconography and projection of this map makes a powerful statement about the global influence of the Society of Jesus. (Courtesy of the Glen McLaughlin Map Collection of California as an Island, David Rumsey Map Center, Stanford Libraries)
Pl ate 3. Map of Sinaloa, Sonora, and Nueva Vizcaya attached to the account of Hernando de Cabero, compiled by an anonymous Jesuit cartographer, 1662. (© Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu)
Pl ate 4. Map of California and New Spain drawn by Eusebio Kino in 1695– 96 to illustrate his biography of Francisco Xavier Saeta. (© Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu)
Pl ate 5. Map of Pimería with an illustration of the martyrdom of Father Saeta, drawn by Eusebio Kino in 1696– 97. (© Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu)
Pl ate 7. Map prepared by an anonymous Jesuit about 1722 that vividly illustrates the mining activities that prompted the military and judicial reorganization of New Spain. (Mapoteca Manuel Orozco y Berra)
Pl ate 6. Compilation of Eusebio Kino’s 1702 and 1710 maps drawn by Juan José Díaz in 1766. (Biblioteca Nacional de España)
Pl ate 8. Sheet of Francisco Álvarez Barreiro’s military map of Sonora, parts of Sinaloa and Nueva Vizcaya produced in 1727 under the influence of Jesuit cartography. (Archivo General de Indias)
Pl ate 9. Map of Sinaloa with presentation of its traffic communications, prepared by José Palomino to accompany his mission report of 1744. This map is a copy from 1765. (Biblioteca Nacional de España)
P l ate 10. Eusebio Kino’s 1685 map in the edition of Heinrich Scherer. (Courtesy of Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps)
P l ate 11. Map of Bay of La Paz compiled by Rafael Villar del Val, a captain of the Spanish royal navy, and the Jesuit Ferdinand Konščak in 1739. (Biblioteca Nacional de España)
P l ate 12. Maps of Baja California by Eusebio Kino (IV) and Ferdinand Konščak (V) in Denis Diderot’s Encyclopédie (Paris, 1772). (Courtesy of Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps)
P l ate 13. Athanasius Kircher’s Mappa Fluxus et Refluxus rationes in Isthmo Americano (Amsterdam, 1665). This colored edition of the map is very rare. (MacLean Collection)
Pl ate 14. Map of the Viceroyalty of Peru compiled by its royal cosmographer, Juan Ramón Koenig, in 1683, reflecting Spanish knowledge of the region, including that acquired by Jesuit missionaries. The map was created for the purposes of colonial administration and Spanish territorial affirmation. (Archivo General de Indias)
Pl ate 15. Map of the Province of Moxos, which bordered the Spanish and Portuguese Empires after the Treaty of Madrid, compiled by Karl Hirschko about 1751. (Archivo General de Indias)
Pl ate 16. Map of the Province of Moxos, compiled by an anonymous Jesuit cartographer and attached to a 1764 report by Juan de Beingolea. (Agencia Española de Cooperación Internacional para el Desarrollo)
Pl ate 17. Patagonia as seen by José Quiroga. He finalized this maritime chart about 1750 using information gathered during a 1745– 46 maritime expedition. (Biblioteca Nacional de España)
Pl ate 19. José Cardiel’s 1749 map of Patagonia, supplemented with information gathered during his 1746 and 1748 overland expeditions. (Biblioteca Nacional de España)
Pl ate 18. Patagonia through the eyes of José Cardiel. In contrast to Quiroga’s, this map, compiled about 1746, focuses on the region’s cultural landscape. (Archivo General de la Nación, Buenos Aires)
Pl ate 20. Map of Patagonia by José Cardiel summarizing his knowledge of the region. It is a compilation based on information gathered during his own expeditions as well as that obtained from native inhabitants. (Biblioteca Nacional de España)
Pl ate 21. Map of Paraguay by Joan Blaeu (Amsterdam, 1665) summarizing knowledge of the region at an early stage of its missionization. The dedication to Vincenzo Caraffa, Superior General of the Society of Jesus, was an acknowledgment of the Jesuits’ contribution to the exploration and mapping of Paraguay. (Courtesy of the Glen McLaughlin Map Collection of California as an Island, David Rumsey Map Center, Stanford Libraries)
Pl ate 22 . Juan Francisco Dávila’s 1726 map of Paraguay in a 1728 redaction by Christoph Dietell. (Courtesy of Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps)
Pl ate 23. Redaction of the Dávila-Machoni map of the Province of Paraguay prepared by Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville (Paris, 1733). It is a compilation based on the Jesuit sources prepared to accompany the account by Jerónimo de Herrán. (Courtesy of Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps)
Pl ate 2 4. Map of the demarcation in the region of the Guaraní missions, attributed to José Cardiel. Compiled in 1752, the map shows territorial losses suffered by Spain as a result of the Treaty of Madrid (dark yellow area) as well as a proposal for a compromise solution (marked by a bold green line). (Archivo General de Simancas)
Sergeant Mayor of Chiloé in 1744 (possible the same one that was used as a template for 1758 Chiloé map). Because a number of inaccuracies were noted on this map during the expedition, it was supplemented and corrected by García’s observations. After his return to Europe, by comparing the military template map and his findings, in 1768 he finalized his own map of the Chonos Archipelago (fig. 62).265 The autograph of his map has not been preserved, but a copy of it published by Murr in his diary testifies to his cartographic accomplishment. In addition to accompanying earlier editions of the diary, the map was once again published in 2008.266
In many ways, García’s map is a continuation of the 1758 map by Meyer and Strasser, not because it shows the Chonos Archipelago as situated just south of the Chiloé Archipelago but because of the methods used to compile it. Relying on an earlier military work, this missionary map is more concerned with the challenges of navigation than with the missions themselves. It shows the numerous islands of the archipelago, the coastline with its many inlets, and the route of the expedition, from their starting point at Cailín Island all the way through the Chonos Archipelago to Guayaneco Island (present-day Isla Wager) at 48° south latitude. The locations of the earlier
F igur e 62 . Map of the Chonos Archipelago compiled by Father José García Alsué in 1768. It is based on the 1744 military map and supplemented by García’s observations made in 1766 and 1767. (Biblioteca Nacional de Chile). The Viceroyalty of Peru
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appearance of English vessels are carefully marked on the map— near Guayaneco Island there is a note about the presence of an English vessel in 1740. The note refers to Anson’s expedition, which passed through there in 1741— more exactly, to the HMS Wager, which sank there on May 14, 1741. On Inchin (Ynche) Island, another vessel from Anson’s expedition is mentioned: HMS Anna, which sheltered there for two months in 1741 before rejoining the rest of the expedition (the bay is even today known as Bahía Anna Pink). The British arrival caused great alarm among the Spanish, who searched the Chilean archipelagoes extensively to cleanse them of any possible British presence. This Jesuit map clearly reflects the political tensions of the era, characterized by Chilean concern about the defense of the Chonos and Chiloé Archipelagoes. As a result of the expedition, the Juan Fernández Islands were settled and the fort of Tenquehuen was established in the Chonos Archipelago (in the time of García’s expedition already abandoned, thus not marked). After the fort of Tenquehuen was dismantled, the Marquis of the Ensenada, having been briefed on local affairs, recommended the establishment of a fort in the Guaitecas Archipelago, but it never came to pass. Instead, the city-fort of Ancud on Chiloé Island was established in 1768. Owing to the relatively small number of detailed maps of Chile that were based on original data— a paucity felt until as late as the end of the eighteenth century— Ovalle’s 1646 map was long an inspiration to geographers and naturalists.267 When in 1776, following the expulsion of the Jesuit order from Spanish territories, the Chilean 166
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naturalist Juan Ignacio Molina compiled an account in Bologna,268 he attached a map of Chile to his book (fig. 63). Although the map was not signed with his name (nor was the first edition of his book), its contents were quite certainly edited by Molina himself.269 He belonged to the last generation of Creole Jesuits educated in colonial Chile. Upon the suppression, he settled in Bologna, where he became an active member of intellectual circles and established lasting epistolary relationships with other European naturalists. Molina’s map of Chile, extending from Peruvian border in the north to the Chiloé Archipelago in the south, is accompanied by lines of latitude and longitude (measuring eastward from Ferro), a compass rose, and a scale. It is oriented with east at the top. Molina used Ovalle’s template as the basis for his map. A series of little circles with no indication of the place-names scattered along the western slopes of the Andes— typical of Ovalle’s map— can be found in corresponding places on Molina’s map as well. Also, in the Transandine region, he used Ovalle’s data for a group of lakes called Guanachache. At the same time, Molina also supplemented Ovalle’s template with some more recent information, particularly that from Thomas Falkner’s map of Patagonia, thus creating a relatively modern map of Chile. Molina was a naturalist who was first and foremost interested in natural phenomena, but his map also contained some typical missionary information such as names of the local native groups. Also, although, in view of the suppression of the order, he omitted to explicitly mention the Jesuit legacy, he decorated
F igur e 63. Map of Chile by Juan Ignacio Molina, published in his narrative on the natural history of Chile (Bologna, 1776 and 1782). Owing to the suppression of the order, a certain degree of self-censorship was involved in its compilation. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
the cartouche with a statue of a native Araucanian, a reminiscence of his Jesuit service in his homeland. On the other hand, the categorization of settlements (cities, abandoned settlements, villages, and forts) contained no mention of the numerous missions, whose management was taken over by the Franciscans after 1767. Thus, Molina, unlike Havestadt, removed almost all the elements that would directly associate his map with the Jesuit order. For the purposes of later editions of Molina’s book, his original map underwent some revisions (especially the one in the English edition). At the time of the suppression of the order in 1767, Chile was still one of the least
researched and least mapped Spanish provinces. Because of its harsh climate, difficultto-access terrain, and, in particular, numerous conflicts with the local population who only in Chile managed to achieve territorial autonomy over a significant part of their territory, the Spanish colonial and military authorities were unable to produce reliable large-scale maps of Chile until as late as the second half of the eighteenth century.270 The first detailed map of Araucanía, where the Spaniards had the most difficulty establishing their authority, was not produced until 1777 (fig. 64).271 The only region affected by more significant cartographic activity was the Chilean archipelagoes, which The Viceroyalty of Peru
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Figur e 64. Map of Araucanía compiled by the Spanish official cartographer Tomás López in 1777. Some scholars attribute this map to Juan Ignacio Molina. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
was under pressure from English and Dutch intrusions and was mapped by both the Spanish military authorities and the Jesuits. Those maps, however, often remained in manuscript form or were published years after their compilation in expedition journals in book form. Apart from maritime maps produced on the occasional naval expeditions of the British, Dutch, French, or Span168
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ish fleets, the Jesuit maps of Chile served as the main source of information not only for Spanish colonial cartography, but also for other European commercial cartographies. Because of the extreme secretiveness of the Spanish authorities and the poorly developed production of military maps, in Chile, except in the Chilean archipelagoes, there was no significant interaction
between colonial— that is, military— and Jesuit cartography. Consequently, the Jesuit maps of Chile corresponded more to European commercial maps than to those of Spanish colonial cartography. This is also evidenced by the map of Chile published in Venice in 1785, which strongly relied on Jesuit sources, including those that were produced by Jesuits living in Italian exile.272 2.2.3 Patagonia: Jesuits at the Southern Edge of the Spanish Empire
Owing to its great commercial and geopolitical importance, the Strait of Magellan began to be charted even before Europeans discovered it.273 However, the mainland north of the Strait of Magellan, known as Patagonia, was almost completely unknown to Europeans until as late as the eighteenth century. Strangely enough, this ignorance extended to the Patagonian coast as well, which, although part of the maritime route to the Strait, was barely outlined on navigational charts of the period. Jesuit attempts, presented through Ovalle’s 1646 map, to include Patagonia in their missionary activities ultimately failed, so the Spanish Empire lost interest in the further conquest and mapping of Patagonia for almost a century, although it maintained its claim of de jure sovereignty over the area. In contrast, British, French, and Dutch explorers continued to chart the Patagonian coast all through the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. After the cartographic campaigns of the French cartographers Louis Feuillée (1707– 11) and Amédée-François Frézier (1712– 14), which included the Patagonian coast, George Anson’s expedition (1740– 45) finally managed
to alert the Spanish authorities. Anson did not just circumnavigate Cape Horn; he also conducted precise charting of many of the harbors, bays, and islands along the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, all of them officially under Spanish rule.274 Hence, Anson’s expedition marked a turning point not just in Spanish policy toward foreign expeditions along their coast, but also in their attitude toward the necessity of the further exploration and colonization of Patagonia. To ensure sovereignty over the southern tip of America, in 1745 the Spanish king decided to launch a maritime expedition to the southern Atlantic. Aside from determining whether the British were attempting to establish themselves along the coast, the purpose of the expedition was to investigate the possibility of establishing a Jesuit mission at a place called San Julián as a possible winter harbor, which would enable the development of a direct trade route from Spain, via Cape Horn to the Philippines.275 The 1745– 46 expedition to Patagonia was organized by three Jesuits: the Austrian Matthias Strobel and the Spaniards José Quiroga and José Cardiel. Seven other (unnamed) Jesuits also participated in the venture, which made this expedition the biggest maritime endeavor the Jesuits ever undertook.276 The head of the expedition was Strobel, an experienced missionary and trustworthy servant of the Spanish colonial authorities for almost forty years.277 As the superior of all the Guaraní missions, he was the highest-ranking German Jesuit in Paraguay. In the early 1740s the Jesuits tried to establish the first missions among the Pampas. Strobel was chosen because he was the only one who could speak the lanThe Viceroyalty of Peru
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guage of the Pampas and Serranos. During the Patagonian maritime expedition Strobel acquired considerable surveying knowledge. Consequently, he was later involved in the mapping of the demarcation line of the Treaty of Madrid (1750), as well as in various other cartographic activities in the Gran Chaco region.278 Quiroga and Cardiel, the lead scientists and mapmakers of the expedition, possessed profoundly different professional identities, which resulted in their distinctly different approaches to the study of Patagonia on land and at sea. Although formally trained within the same scientific culture, the two Jesuits came to this moment through very different paths, which, in the case of the Patagonian expedition, proved to be complementary. Quiroga’s background was unusual for someone in his profession.279 Before becoming a Jesuit, he had been a naval officer and an experienced cartographer. The sea and marine life captivated Quiroga at an early age. Around 1725 he enrolled in the Spanish naval school and thenceforth dedicated himself to the study of physics and natural history. After years of learning, Quiroga sailed the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, and life at sea seemed to please the young sailor. He was sent from Spain to America to be the main cartographer of the Patagonian expedition and arrived in Buenos Aires only five months before it started. His companion Cardiel, on the other hand, possessed a keen interest in geography, ethnography, and cartography.280 He arrived in Paraguay in 1729 and worked there as a missionary for almost forty years. During his missionary service, Cardiel was known not only for his com170
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mitment to the protection of the missions and their native inhabitants, but also for his advocacy of the territorial integrity of the Spanish possessions in Paraguay. Unlike Quiroga, who arrived in Patagonia just before the expedition was due to set off, Cardiel joined the expedition as an experienced Jesuit who had spent decades working in the missions. His long experience as a missionary greatly determined his view of the country and the people he served. The expedition sailed from the port of Buenos Aires on December 5, 1745, on a frigate, the San Antonio, commanded by Captain Joaquín de Olivares y Centeno, who had served under Admiral Francisco Pizarro in the unsuccessful expedition against Anson.281 The expedition sailed in the open sea, far from the coast, until they reached Cabo Blanco (present-day Cabo Tres Puntas), and from there they sailed closely along the coast, making observations and carrying out cartographic work. After they reached Río Gallegos, the southernmost point of their journey, they headed north for their return trip. The expedition, which lasted four months, ended on April 4, 1746, when the ship returned to the port of Buenos Aires. Cardiel and Quiroga each produced his own travel logs and maps based on the expedition, documents that reflected the divergent interests of the Jesuit cartographers.282 An experienced sailor, Quiroga drew a series of maritime charts. The manuscript of his diary, which is held in the Archivo General de Indias, is accompanied by nineteen views of the coastline as seen from the sea.283 These views, which he attached to his diary, follow all the conventions of
maritime cartography and correspond well to the maritime charts and pilot guides of his contemporaries. He depicted entrances to the bays, views of the capes, and some other major points of orientation that he was able to observe from the ship. He also made sketches of Río Gallegos, Puerto San Julián, and Puerto Deseado. Quiroga’s major cartographic achievement is his remarkable chart of the Patagonian coast, which confirms his exceptional navigational and mapping skills (plate 17).284 The chart shows the Atlantic coast from the mouth of the Río de la Plata to the entrance to the Strait of Magellan, from 304° to 324° east longitude (east of Tenerife) and from 34° to 55° south latitude. The chart is accompanied by two compass roses, and was drawn at a scale of approximately 1:2,800,000. It is a conventional nautical chart, and we could hardly assume that it was made by a Jesuit with the aim of establishing new missions (although the empty area of the interior can be understood as ripe for evangelization). The chart shows the coastline of Patagonia and includes information necessary for navigation, such as depths, shoals, islands, and rocks. Most of the place-names refer strictly to capes and bays. Quiroga marked several islands: the Islas de los Reyes (at the entrance to Puerto Deseado) and, far to the east, the Isla de los Pepinos,285 Islas Sebald de Weert (the presentday Malvinas, or Falkland Islands, as they are known in Britain),286 and the Islas de Anican (discovered in 1700),287 which he copied from Frézier’s 1717 map of Tierra del Fuego. Only a few rivers are designated by their names (the Río Salado, Río Colorado, and Río del Sauce). Quiroga includes very
few information about the inland areas, although he notes the abandoned missions (pueblos destruidos) in the vicinity of the Sierra del Volcán, which could refer to the missions of Nuestra Señora de la Concepción (founded in 1740) and Nuestra Señora del Pilar (1746), both abandoned in 1753.288 Cardiel’s map noted these missions as extant, meaning that Quiroga’s chart was finalized at a later date than Cardiel’s, probably about 1750. The rest of the inland region is completely empty, with only one inscription; it describes the legendary Sierra de Casuatí (a native name for the Cerro Ventana), visited by Cardiel and Thomas Falkner during their overland expedition in 1746.289 While Quiroga acted as the group’s technical expert, Cardiel’s primary task was to collect information needed to establish missions. He therefore was focused on observations of the land and the people of Patagonia. Although they did not encounter any natives, Cardiel did not see Patagonia as an empty space. As a counterpoint to Quiroga’s maritime chart of Patagonia, Cardiel’s map of the same region was dedicated to the depiction of the interior and its inhabitants (plate 18).290 As indicated by the compass rose, the map is oriented toward the north and accompanied by a graticule of longitude and latitude, a scale (leguas communes), and an extensive explanation key. Although it is not based solely on Cardiel’s survey but also on reports and maps of other travelers as well as information from native inhabitants, the map represents Cardiel’s original work and should be understood as a supplement to his narrative. The map shows a wide region between The Viceroyalty of Peru
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33° and 57° south latitude and 303° to 327° east longitude (east of Tenerife). It contains the information gathered during the 1745– 46 maritime expedition as well as during the short overland expedition that Cardiel, together with Father Thomas Falkner, took in 1746 with the aim of establishing a new mission, the Nuestra Señora del Pilar del Volcán. According to the explanation key (Advertencia), the green and yellow areas are inhabited by infieles. Cardiel also includes detailed information about the local nations and their mode of living. The key explains that the territory of indigenous people who use horses is colored green, while the yellow areas correspond to the territory inhabited by indigenous people who travel on foot. The red areas are hunting land, especially of wild horses; Cardiel notes that the indigenous people hunt horses both for food and for riding, whereas the Spaniards use them only for riding. Cardiel then goes on to describe the natives, saying that nearly all these nations are nomads who live without towns or any form of permanent settlement and without cemeteries. Their dwellings are not houses but primitive structures covered with horsehide; however, the southern peoples, living along the Río del Sauce, use the hides of the guanaco, an animal similar to a small camel. In general, the colored areas represent the regions with some socioeconomic potential, while blank areas such as the Patagonian coast represent infertile and unpopulated regions (costa esteril y desierta) and were thus considered unsuitable for exploitation. Unquestionably, the main purpose of the map was the representation of the cul172
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tural landscape of the region. In that regard, Cardiel’s map was a rather typical missionary map with some strong anthropological undertones. He noted the names of numerous Patagonian and Chilean nations, mostly unbaptized (designated as vagabundos), as well as information that he collected from Jesuit relations and through contact with the Serranos and Pampas in the north of the region. The map is thus demonstrably the result of a considerable exchange of knowledge between the Jesuits and the native inhabitants. Along the slopes of the Andes, Cardiel identified the Pehuenches and Puelches, and the Casahuati and Serranos in the region south of the Río Salado. Toward the south in the inland of Patagonia, he located the Chechehet, Cidechet, Choleechel, Astchauhet, Huichi, Luiquia, Teycunquin, Colpeches, Salaupin, Guikauusis, Eulie, Chuluhauchet, Coutgin, Sencheilin, and Lyus. Cardiel also identified the Poyas, Giguchet, Quisuchet, Queiyus, Sesusquis, Queyuhues, and Chonos in the territory of Chile.291 In contrast to European settlements, which are fixed points in space, the lands inhabited by these indigenous peoples, who preferred mobility over fixity, constituted territories whose limits could be understood not as precise boundaries, but rather as transition zones. Therefore, Cardiel’s cartographic image of Patagonia confronted two socioeconomic dynamics, integrating them into one representation of the space.292 In addition to the missions located along the southern edge of the Río de la Plata region, the Nuestra Señora de la Concepción and the Nuestra Señora del Pilar, most of Cardiel’s toponymy refers to rivers, capes, and bays. In
terms of hydrography, the significantly improved representation of the Río Colorado (marked as Río Barrancas) and the Río Negro (marked as Río del Sauce) undoubtedly came about after validating the spatial information communicated by local informants. However, the absence of the Río Deseado, Río Santa Cruz, and Río Gallegos, already known from Ovalle’s 1646 map, reflects the problems experienced by the Jesuits when sailing along the southern part of their route (this shortcoming is reflected in Quiroga’s map as well). Following the conventions of Jesuit cartography, Cardiel categorized the settlements as occupied by Spaniards (marked with a red church) and Christianized natives (a red circle with a cross), or as abandoned or demolished towns and villages (the same symbols, but in black). On the basis of the Jesuit relations and some modern maps (primarily by French cartographers), he extended his representation to include the entire region south of Buenos Aires, including Chile and Tierra del Fuego, which he had not visited.293 In that sense, Cardiel’s presentation of the region north of Río de la Plata is very specific and reveals his deep devotion to the Spanish crown. Although it was under Portuguese rule, Colônia do Sacramento is clearly presented as a Spanish city. Strangely enough, with regard to longitude, Cardiel’s map does not correspond to Quiroga’s, as we would expect (this difference does not occur with respect to the latitudes, which are synchronized on both maps). Although both Quiroga and Cardiel refer to Tenerife (Pico Teide) as the prime meridian, their maps remain discordant.
For example, Cardiel places Buenos Aires at 321°30′ east, while Quiroga marks the same location at 319° east. The discrepancy in longitude between the two authors becomes somewhat smaller toward the south, with Cardiel defining the longitude of San Julián as 310°40′ east and that of Quiroga as 309° east. The coordinates of the locations that Cardiel designated on his map correspond well with the coordinates of the same places that he noted in his diary, which could be an indication that Cardiel made determinations of longitude independent of Quiroga. Cardiel set off for Patagonia again in March 1748, and the mission of Nuestra Señora de los Desamparados was established in 1750.294 During his 1746 overland expedition with Thomas Falkner and the subsequent expedition of 1748, undertaken with Sebastián de San Martín, Cardiel managed to establish closer contact with the natives. Therefore, the maps that Cardiel finalized between 1749 and 1751 on the basis of these two expeditions included a large amount of information he obtained from the local inhabitants. The first two maps appeared in April 1749 (plate 19).295 These are two smaller maps drawn on one sheet. Influenced by the French cartographer Nicolas Sanson, Cardiel named Patagonia “Tierra de Magallanes” on both of his maps. The first one shows the route of his 1748 expedition. Traveling from Buenos Aires by way of the route to the missions of Concepción and Pilar, he continued his exploration, going inland along the Río Salado and reaching its upper course, where he met the Serranos. Cardiel conducted reconnaissance of the mouth of the Río del Sauce with parThe Viceroyalty of Peru
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ticular attention because, owing to unfavorable winds, he was unable to execute it during the maritime expedition. As a result of his 1748 overland expedition, Cardiel now managed to delineate the mouth of the Río del Sauce at its exact position, locating it at approximately 41° south latitude (on his previous map as well as on Quiroga’s chart, the mouth of this river was sited at 43° south, two degrees farther south than its real position). Cardiel associated the area between the Río Salado and the sand banks (arenales) to the south with the Tehuelche nation. Toward the west he positioned the Poyas, Puelches, Pehuenches, and Aucaes. In the area north of the Río Salado he designated a region of yeguas (mares), while the population of the southern tip was defined as the indigenous people who travel on foot, just as in his 1746 map. The second of the two maps, drawn on a much larger scale, shows the route of his second voyage along the coast. It describes the physical geography of the terrain (including numbered explanatory notes in the key). The small illustration below the mountains showing Indians hunting looks rather pastoral. As the situation on the southern frontier grew less stable, Cardiel drew another map to present the totality of what he had learned about the region and its population. Using his 1746 map as a base, he added all the information he had compiled during his overland expedition with Thomas Falkner as well as during his 1748 expedition with Sebastián de San Martín. Thus, in 1751, Cardiel finalized his most complete map of Patagonia. Although the copy of this map preserved in the National Library of Spain was drawn by Francisco Javier de Santiago 174
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y Palomares,296 Cardiel’s authorship of the map is unquestionable (plate 20).297 The biggest novelty of Cardiel’s 1751 map is the presentation of native settlements in Patagonia. He declares in his extensive explanatory note that the tract of land from Buenos Aires to the Strait of Magellan had not been surveyed by Europeans, so he had to rely on what indigenous peoples from various nations told him. In order to provide more accurate data, Cardiel questioned various native groups and included only the information on which all the groups agreed. He delineated the courses of the Río Colorado and the Río del Sauce (Río Negro), of which the Pehuenches and the Tehuelches had thoroughly informed him. Attesting to his collaboration with indigenous informants, Cardiel delineated the itinerary of the cacique Cangapol in his map (he would play an even greater role in Falkner’s map of Patagonia).298 With this map, Cardiel’s view of Patagonia was complete. The physical features of the space became well enough known to allow travel through them, and the unbaptized nations were identified and located in the space; thus, everything was ready for spreading the missions toward the south, which was one of Cardiel’s key objectives. However, the same man who provided Cardiel with so much information on the topography of the region turned his back on the Jesuits. In 1751 Cangapol and his warriors expelled the Jesuits from Laguna de los Padres and destroyed the mission of Nuestra Señora del Pilar, destroying Cardiel’s plan to make Patagonia a Jesuit province.299 Cardiel’s maps of Patagonia were just the first step in mapping the vast inland of
the southern tip of South America. Cardiel’s survey of the interior was limited more or less to the area closer to the coast, so Patagonia was for the most part still unknown. To fill that gap on the map, in 1750 the Spanish authorities decided to engage the services of Thomas Falkner to compile a more comprehensive map of Patagonia.300 Falkner had acquired considerable knowledge of the area during his overland expedition with Cardiel in 1746, and was experienced in communicating with the native population, which made him a perfect candidate for the job. He worked on the map for almost ten years. Upon its completion, the map was printed at Quito in 1761, and was noted for its accuracy. Unfortunately, Falkner’s original versions of the map (both manuscript and print copies) have not been found, so their contents are not known. However, there is no doubt that most of Falkner’s information on Patagonia was included in the later edition of his map prepared by Thomas Kitchin in 1772. After the suppression and his return to England, Falkner kept his focus on Patagonia. Encouraged by the writer Robert Berkeley, Falkner started to work on his narrative on Patagonia. Berkeley took Falkner’s manuscript and placed it in the hands of William Combe for revision. Berkeley was a political writer, and he recognized the potential of Falkner’s manuscript as a convenient tool for adding Patagonia, if not all of Argentina, to the English possessions in the Americas. Acting in accordance with Berkeley’s orders, William Combe seemed to have eliminated anything that might have distracted from Berkeley’s agenda. Morover, Combe did not mention Falkner
as the author, but referred to him only as “a person who had been employed in surveying and making charts of the country.” Although Berkeley later changed his mind and noted Falkner as the author of the manuscript, nothing could change the fact that Berkeley and Combe intervened in Falkner’s original version of the manuscript and omitted many of his personal observations. When the book was finally published in 1774 with Berkeley’s preface— actually a political pamphlet favoring British interests in Argentina— Falkner was greatly displeased.301 To accompany the manuscript, Berkeley engaged Thomas Kitchin, the royal hydrographer, to prepare the map under Falkner’s guidance. In 1772 the map was prepared for separate sale by Thomas Lewis, a bookseller in Russell Street in London, but it was later tipped into Falkner’s book (fig. 65).302 Because Falkner’s 1761 map is not preserved, it is hard to tell to what extent the map of 1772 relied on it. The map of 1772 covers a large portion of South America, from Paraguay and the mouth of the Río de la Plata in the north to Cape Horn in the south, which, according to the map, is the area between 30° and 57° south latitude. The fact that the map was prepared in London is reflected in its content and especially its construction. The map is based on the prime meridian at Ferro (westward), and the scale is given in British statute miles. Owing to the strong influence of European cartography, as well as to the political context in which it originated— after the suppression of the Jesuits and during a period of British expansion— it is quite certain that Falkner’s original vision of Patagonia was here substantially revised. The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 65. Thomas Falkner’s map of the southern parts of America in the edition by Thomas Kitchin (London, 1772). (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
Authentic data that Falkner collected as a Jesuit, as well as other echoes of Jesuit activity in this area, were completely removed from the 1772 map (for example, although it can be seen that the author used different symbols to indicate individual settlements, including those indicating the missions, the map has no explanation key). It is also noteworthy that the name of its author is not mentioned on the map itself; instead, it is stated that the map was produced based on both manuscript maps prepared in the country and a survey of the eastern coast undertaken by order of the king of Spain. This map is important for the history of Jesuit cartography for several reasons. It was the most detailed map up until then, providing the physical geographical background and showing the borders of the provinces and the spatial distribution of various local nations. Drawn at a scale of about 1:3,000,000, the map documents the level of knowledge of this part of the Americas. According to Falkner’s account, the map compiles the results of his observations as well as information obtained from the native people and from previous explorers. In fact, Falkner based his map on Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville’s map of South America, revised and improved by Solomon Bolton,303 an English cartographer. To represent the Strait of Magellan and the Falkland Islands, Falkner used a map by Antoine-Joseph Pernety,304 who accompanied the Bougainville expedition,305 while for the inland area he depended on his own observations, as well as on the extensive information he collected from various native inhabitants. In order to accentuate in particular the contribu-
tions the native peoples made to his map, he drew two figures next to the cartouche; on the left stands the cacique Cangapol, the most important native protagonist in his mapping enterprise, who was also known for his cooperation with Cardiel, while on the other side stands Huennee, one of Cangapol’s wives.306 The map is therefore a unique amalgam of European and indigenous knowledge of the geography of the area— a testament to the lively cultural exchange between the Jesuits and the Indians of various nations. Falkner had the comprehensive data for Chile and for the southern parts of the Province of Paraguay (Tucumán and Buenos Aires), because relatively detailed and reliable maps for those areas already in existence that Falkner could use in compiling his own map. Consequently, he had very detailed data on that particular area, including those on hydrography, relief, and population. He also noted numerous missions, local population settlements, and Spanish cities in the area. He did not have such detailed information on anything south of the boundary of the province, marked as the Indian boundary agreed upon in 1740 (designated on the map by a broken line that runs approximately along the thirtyfifth parallel south latitude). He thus had to rely principally on information that he collected through his own observations or through the testimonies of the natives he encountered. Traveling through the interior of Patagonia, Falkner managed to collect specific data on hydrography and topography of the terrain, noting the local names that were, up until then, never recorded on maps produced by his predecessors. In adThe Viceroyalty of Peru
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dition to numerous rivers and salt pits along the Andes, he paid special attention to recording many volcanoes and their names. Falkner did not disregard the human geography of Patagonia either. He recorded numerous tribal names and the approximate boundaries of their activities (thin broken line) in the area to the south of the Río Negro, while along the rivers he often noted points at which they could be safely crossed. He described the Atlantic coast of Patagonia as an uninhabited desert where the Indians buried their dead and sometimes came to seek salt. This note, which came from Cardiel’s 1746 map, is one of the few reflections of the Jesuit maritime expedition of 1745– 46 that can be found on Falkner’s map. Apart from the note about the desolate coast, Falkner took certain other information from Cardiel’s map as well; he kept the name of the Río Barrancas but also added the Río Colorado (actually the same river). Falkner also kept the designations of the two destroyed Jesuit missions— Nuestra Señora de la Concepción (1740) and Nuestra Señora del Pilar de Serranos (1746)— noted on Cardiel’s 1746 map. Although Falkner mentioned the expedition of 1745– 46 in his narrative, though mainly in a very critical tone, he did not mention the names of its protagonists, nor the maps that were created on the basis of that expedition. Although in the absence of his original map it is difficult to estimate the actual results of Falkner’s explorations, there is no doubt that he substantially improved the level of knowledge of these parts of South America. Successfully compiling the data of British and French cartographies and sup178
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plementing it with information from Jesuit missionaries and local natives, Falkner created a unique compilation, one based on an exchange of knowledge between the Old and New Worlds. Generally speaking, Patagonia is one of the regions in which the knowledge exchange between the Jesuits and the native inhabitants is best documented in Jesuit maps. From Cardiel to Quiroga to Thomas Falkner, they all heavily relied on information given by the natives. The best proof of the success of the Jesuit maps described here is the fact that they served for a long time as the basic template for the representation of Patagonia in European commercial cartography. Quiroga’s charts were used as the main template by the famous French cartographer JacquesNicolas Bellin when compiling the charts included in the third volume of Pierre François Xavier Charlevoix’s Histoire du Paraguay (Paris, 1756),307 while Falkner’s book, A description of Patagonia, together with his map, were soon published in German (Gotha, 1775), French (Geneva, 1787), and Spanish (Buenos Aires, 1835). 2.2.4 The Province of Paraguay and the Río de la Plata: The Cartography of Conflicts and Martyrs
Founded by Father Superior General Claudio Acquaviva (1581– 1615) in 1604, the Jesuit Province of Paraguay (Paraquaria) comprised present-day Paraguay, Argentina, Uruguay, eastern Bolivia, southern Brazil, and Chile, the latter becoming a part of the province in 1625. In terms of colonial territorial divisions, the vast area of the Jesuit province included two administrative
units of the audiencia of Charcas, the governorate of the Río de la Plata and Paraguay (the latter was separated from the Río de la Plata and established as a separate administration in 1617). The first Jesuits arrived in Paraguay from Peru in 1585; almost simultaneously, Portuguese Jesuits from Brazil appeared.308 Although the Spanish assistancy prevailed in 1607, thus eliminating the possibility of annexation of Paraguay to the Portuguese assistancy, Paraguay remained a zone of constant tension between the Spanish and Portuguese authorities.309 Over time, the Jesuits in Paraguay managed to create a society very different from those in the other coastal and mountain regions of South America. An abundance of disciplined native labor and careful stewardship by the Jesuit fathers created a thriving agrarian economy in the reductions, providing the Jesuits with a massive income. While the Spanish crown technically owned the territory, its officials had little or no influence on the region, which for all practical purposes functioned as an independent Jesuit state. However, the enormous income from the reductions, which ensured that the Jesuits would have complete independence and make them extremely powerful, also aroused the hostility of the Spanish landowners and church authorities, who perceived Jesuit entrepreneurship as a direct competition to their own businesses. Thus, the Paraguayan missions operated in the face of complex and hostile relations not only with the Portuguese, but also with Spanish colonial and church authorities. Therefore, the specific geopolitical position occupied by Paraguay— deep in the interior of the continent and, at the same
time, in a zone of convergence for Portuguese and Spanish interests— became the main determinant of its development. Its cartography reflected this situation: numerous relocations of the Jesuit missions and their reestablishment after repeated destruction, caused both by local conflicts and by the territorial encroachments of Portugal and Spain, determined not only the history of the Paraguayan reductions, but also the history of cartography of the region. Many of the Jesuit maps of Paraguay were created as part of the competition over control of the area, which culminated in the bloody Guaraní War (1753– 56). Furlong, who made an extensive study of the Jesuit cartography of this province, identified in his Cartografía jesuítica del Río de la Plata as many as ninety-eight maps made by Jesuits or based on Jesuit data. Although the authorship of many of these maps can be questioned, there is no doubt there were far more Jesuit maps of Paraguay than of the other Jesuit provinces. Another unique aspect of the Jesuit cartography of Paraguay has to do with when the maps were created. Although the province was established early, only a few maps appeared in the seventeenth century, while a huge number were made in the period after 1750. The number of maps created in the eighteenth century is directly related to the problems of demarcation between the Spanish and Portuguese possessions, especially those established after the Treaty of Madrid. Unlike Chile, Jesuit cartography in Paraguay developed in strong interaction with Spanish (and Portuguese) colonial cartography. Spanish authorities developed intensive cartographic activity in that area very The Viceroyalty of Peru
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early on, mainly for administrative and military purposes. The area of the confluence of the great South American rivers that flow into the Atlantic, such as the Río de la Plata, was known to Spanish maritime cartographers even before the arrival of the Jesuits. Because of the great width of the mouth of the Río de la Plata and the navigability of the rivers that feed it, the basic outlines of the lower streams of the Río Paraná and Río Uruguay were marked on a 1523 map by Juan Sebastián Elcano. The first more extensive observations of the mouth of the Río de la Plata were carried out as early as 1585, when a series of sketches was created and attached to Pedro Juan de Rivadeneira’s 1585 report.310 With the arrival of the Jesuits, who entered the interior of the future Province of Paraguay for the first time at the end of the sixteenth century, they became pioneers in mapping these newly explored areas, contributing significantly to exploratory cartography of the region. Especially after the mid-eighteenth century, their maps correlated strongly with those produced by official Spanish cartographers. Thus, the Jesuit maps of Paraguay are highly reflective of the maps produced by official colonial cartographers, with whom they exchanged much information. The exchange of knowledge was mutual: official Spanish cartography relied heavily on data obtained from Jesuit explorations (we saw such a situation in the case of New Spain and to a certain extent also in the case of Peru). The Jesuit cartography of Paraguay had a particularly strong influence on European commercial cartography, especially in the seventeenth century, when, Spanish production of maps of the South 180
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American interior being minimal, the Jesuits represented the only reliable source of information on the geography of this vast and economically more and more important region. When in the eighteenth century Spanish military cartographic production increased, the influence of Jesuit maps on European commercial cartography declined. One of the first Jesuit maps of Paraguay originated at the time the Jesuits arrived in the region. It was made by Juan Romero,311 one of the earliest superiors of the province. According to Furlong, Romero produced a map of Tucumán.312 The map is known only from a Jesuit account written in 1596, which specifically mentioned Romero’s map. Because the map was made before the establishment of Jesuit facilities (colleges, missions, and the like), it probably showed only the physical geography of the region as a future ground for the development of Jesuit activities. The appearance of the first Jesuits in the Province of Paraguay was soon followed by the foundation of Jesuit colleges (Córdoba and Asunción in 1609; Tucumán and Santiago del Estero in 1613; and Buenos Aires, Santa Fe, and Mendoza in 1617), and the first missionary campaigns (from 1609 onward) with the aim of establishing reductions among the native nations of Paraguay. In the Guayrá region (to the east of the upper Paraná River), the first reductions appeared as early as 1610, when the Jesuits founded the Nuestra Señora de Loreto del Pirapó reduction; while the San Ignacio Miní I was established two years later. Between 1622 and 1628 the Jesuits founded eleven more reductions in Guayrá.313 The first reduction in the lands neighboring the Paraná and Uruguay
Rivers was San Ignacio Guazú. Founded in 1610, it was soon followed by six other reductions in the same region.314 In the same year, the evangelization of the Guaycurú people (in the northern Chaco between the Confuso and Pilcomayo Rivers) started in the reductions of Nuestra Señora María de los Reyes (1610) and Guazutinguá (1613). In the region of Itatín (upstream of the Paraguay River), missionary activity peaked in the 1630s, when four short-lived reductions were established.315 Besieged by the Mamelucos (bandeirantes), by 1635 only two missions were left, and these were eventually moved south of the Tebicuary River.316 The reductions of the Tape region (present-day Rio Grande do Sul) were also short-lived. In the 1630s four reductions were established along the Ibicuí River and another six along the Jacuí River. Six of them were vacated completely due to raids by the Mamelucos in 1636– 38.317 The intensification of Jesuit missionary activities between 1610 and 1635, which resulted in the establishment of a significant number of Paraguayan reductions and their occasional relocation because the frequent raids, prompted the production of Jesuit maps of the region. The Jesuits started their activities in the interior of the country, until then almost unknown to Europeans, so exploration and mapping were necessary for their movement and for the maintenance of their missions. The Belgian Jesuit Luis Ernot (1598– 1667) made a map of Paraguay mentioned in 1632 in an account written by Mutio Vitelleschi, the Superior General of the Society of Jesus.318 The evidence of existence of two other maps of Paraguay, one by Antonio Ruiz de Montoya and the other
Antonio Ripari in about 1637, is preserved in their accounts, but the maps themselves have not been found.319 Despite the fact that the early Jesuit maps of Paraguay have not been preserved (or found) today, it is quite probable that the data they contained reached European commercial cartographers. Evidence of that can be seen in two maps, one by Henricus Hondius (fig. 66) and the other by Willem Blaeu,320 which these rivals published under the same title in the early seventeenth century. The maps clearly attest to encounters between Europeans and the peoples of the New World: the names of the native nations and the first Spanish settlements in the interior of the continent reflect both the Old World and the New. Information about the former could only have from Jesuits. The appearance of the first more detailed maps of Paraguay coincided with the publication of early missionary reports from the province. In 1636 one of the first reports from Jesuit missions in Paraguay was published in Amsterdam; it instantly attracted the attention of cartographers such as Hondius and Blaeu.321 Thanks to various Jesuit and Franciscan reports, Blaeu’s son, Joan Blaeu, managed to supplement the map with additional information. In his Geographie Blaviane, first published in 1662– 65, he included a significantly amended map of Paraguay dedicated to the Jesuit Superior General, Vincenzo Caraffa, that was based on information from missionaries of the Jesuit and Franciscan orders (plate 21).322 A significant number of ethnonyms as well as Jesuit reductions testify to the spread of Jesuit influence in the newly conquered area The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 6 6. An early map of Paraguay that already reflects knowledge of the native nations collected by the Jesuits. The map was produced by Henricus Hondius after 1635. (Courtesy of Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps)
and reflect the status of the Jesuits in the mid-seventeenth century, when there were about thirty-eight missions,323 almost all of them were noted in Joan Blaeu’s map. A more detailed insight into the map attests to the problems the Jesuits encountered: apart from Spanish cities, missions assigned to secular clergy, and existing Jesuit and Franciscan reductions, Blaeu also noted all abandoned missions, which were numerous. This presentation reflects the standing conflict with the bandeirantes, Portuguese settlers from Brazil, as well as the attacks 182
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by the Guaycurú in the Itatín and Tape regions that culminated during the 1630s and were disastrous for many of the missions. The designation infidelis in native areas with no existing missions reminds us that areas without missions were considered a pagan landscape waiting to be cultivated and consecrated.324 The representation of human geography, especially the categorization of settlements and the names of native groups, which are lettered conspicuously, conform to all the conventions of Jesuit cartography. The Joan Blaeu map, usually recognized as
typical product of European cartography, reveals its true missionary origin. After the Jesuits armed the Guaraní militia in the mid-seventeenth century, the situation began to stabilize, and the missions were restored. Between 1650 and 1707 numerous new reductions were established around the Paraguay and Uruguay Rivers.325 By the first decade of the eighteenth century, 100,000 Guaranís and 150 Jesuits lived in the missions of the Province of Paraguay. Over the course of the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the Jesuits also founded the Chiquitos reductions (present-day Bolivia),326 the Tarumá missions (Paraguay),327 missions in Tucumán (Argentina),328 and, among the bellicose seminomadic groups of the Gran Chaco (eastern Bolivia, Paraguay, and northern Argentina), the Abipones,329 the Mbayás,330 and the Mocobíes.331 The foundation of the new missions, most of which were located along the Paraguay and Uruguay Rivers and their tributaries, stimulated exploration and mapping of the waterways. One of the most striking Jesuit expeditions was undertaken to this end in 1721. Its purpose was to map the Pilcomayo River, whose waters ran from the foothills of the Bolivian Andes across the Chaco plains and flowed into the Paraguay River near Asunción. Accompanied by three other Jesuits, six Spaniards, and sixty natives, the Jesuit Gabriel Patiño (1662– 1729) managed to explore and reconnoiter the course of the river, which was more than twelve hundred miles long. After they reached the lower Pilcomayo, they discovered that the river diverged into two branches that flowed separately into the
Paraná River. The result of this campaign was the map drawn by Patiño, the first map of the Pilcomayo River.332 Although the original map is considered lost, the results of the expedition were implemented in the Jesuit maps that were produced afterward. The War of the Spanish Succession, which, besides having huge consequences in Europe, also seriously affected SpanishPortuguese relations in South America, triggered more extensive mapping activities in the Spanish and Portuguese realms (for the latter, see chapter 3 on Brazil).333 That was true particularly of the Province of Paraguay, whose southern parts became the subject of a long-lasting dispute between the Spanish and the Portuguese. Not coincidentally, at the peak of the war, which was still progressing in Spain’s favor,334 Juan Francisco Dávila, a native of Buenos Aires, started his cartographic campaign of mapping the whole province. We do not know enough about this important Jesuit cartographer.335 According to Jesuit accounts, Dávila spent about ten years creating this precious cartographic work. After another decade of reconnaissance, armed with information supplied by his brothers in various missions, Dávila completed his manuscript map of the Province of Paraguay in 1722. The task of compiling this map was entrusted to Dávila by his superiors, which means he was recognized as a specialist in this type of endeavor. In 1722 Dávila sent a letter to Antonio Garriga informing him that he had finished the map of the whole province, a copy of which he sent to the Procurator General of the Jesuit order, Jerónimo de Herrán. Although his letter explains that the map was created at the request of provincial authorities, because the The Viceroyalty of Peru
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Superior General needed to know the distances between the Jesuit establishments in order to arrange more effective supply and transportation of personnel, its content reveals other, more political motives.336 When Herrán left for Rome in 1725, he took Dávila’s map with him, and it was there that the map was printed in 1726. Although the map is astoundingly rare and today is considered virtually unobtainable, thanks to the testimony of Joaquín Camaño, who in 1785 saw the actual map, we know that Dávila’s map was dedicated to the Superior General, Michelangelo Tamburini (1648– 1730), and printed in 1726. Yet another piece of evidence for Dávila’s 1726 map is preserved in its edition of 1728, prepared by the Viennese engraver Christoph Dietell to accompany an account published in Der Neue Welt-Bott (vol. 16, 1730) (plate 22).337 Consisting of two sheets, the map covers a wide area from the upper Paraguay to the mouth of the Río de la Plata. Dávila’s map is a compilation not only of his own observations, but also of information he gained from his Jesuit predecessors and contemporaries. Also noticeable is the strong influence of Joan Blaeu’s map. To include more Jesuit missions, Dávila extended the map northward to include the region of Moxos, the presentation of which was based on the 1713 map of the region. The interest of the Paraguayan Jesuits in the Province of Moxos was boosted by their exploration of Lake Xarayes as a possible source of the Paraguay River, and by their establishment of reductions among the nearby Chiquitos, who inhabited the northernmost part of the Province of Paraguay. As a result, many of the early eighteenth-century maps of the Prov184
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ince of Paraguay started to include not only the Chiquitos, but also the Moxos missions. Dávila’s presentation of the Province of Paraguay brought detailed insight into development of the missionization of that part of the Spanish realm. But his map is much more than an overview of missions and their geographical locations. Numerous Jesuit missions also testify to the success of the Spanish colonial project. Thanks to the commitment of the Society of Jesus, the Spanish crown managed to spread their control deep into the hinterland. In the way it portrays Paraguay, the map sends a very strong political message. The entire Guaraní region along the Uruguay River and especially the area along the northern shores of the Río de la Plata are colored yellow, a symbol of the Spanish crown. Although Colonia del Sacramento (Colônia do Sacramento), according to the Treaty of Utrecht, was to be returned to Portuguese, that is not indicated by this map. Soon after its publication Dávila’s map was revised by another Jesuit, Antonio Machoni.338 He arrived in Rome in 1728 to assume the senior administrative role of procurator general of the order’s Paraguay missions, where he was given access to Dávila’s map. Because Machoni had acquired a wealth of geographical intelligence on the greater Paraguay region, much of it derived from his own firsthand reconnaissance, he decided to draft a manuscript map that improved and enlarged upon Dávila’s template. His version of the map had the same title as Dávila’s original but was dedicated to the Superior General, Francisco Retz (1673– 1750); and was published in Rome in 1732 by Giovanni Petroschi (fig. 67).339 Owing to its heavy reliance
F igur e 6 7. The 1732 map of Paraguay by Juan Francisco Dávila and revised by Antonio Machoni in Petroschi’s edition, published in Venice in 1760. (Courtesy of Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps)
on Dávila’s template, the 1732 map of Paraguay should be considered as having been coauthored by Dávila and Machoni.340 A comparison of Dávila’s 1728 map with the 1732 edition shows that these are essentially the same map. There are minor corrections in the region of the Zamucos and Chiquitos as well in the presentation of the tributaries of Uruguay River, but the map coverage and major content are the same. Yet, there are also some other supplements that create important differences in the political discourse of the Dávila-Machoni map. In contrast to Dávila’s template, Machoni ended the silence regarding the consequences of the Treaty of Utrecht. For the first time there is a clear note that Colonia del Sacramento (Colônia do Sacramento) is now in Portuguese hands. Yet it is presented without its nearby territory, which also belonged to the Portuguese. This misleading presentation reflects the Spanish idea that the territory of Sacramento extended only to the distance of a gunshot, representing Colonia only as a small and thus irrelevant point controlled by Portuguese. Moreover, to compensate for the fact that they recognized the Portuguese presence in Sacramento, Machoni highlighted the existence of Montevideo, established in 1726, as a Spanish counterpart located on the northern bank of the Río de la Plata. The mathematical elements of the Dávila-Machoni map indicate that it was constructed with great precision. The map is accompanied by a graticule of latitude (10°– 36° south) and longitude (306°– 331° east of Ferro), a scale (Leucae communes Hispanicae), and a compass rose. Moreover, the authors applied a dual system of 186
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longitudes based on two different prime meridians (Ferro and probably Tenerife). A problem, however, occurred with the designation of degrees of longitude during the printing of the map: the value of the degrees at the upper edge of the map does not increase properly (the sequence of longitudinal values is 318, 319, 320, and 311, instead of the correct sequence of 308, 309, 310, and 311), which considerably affects the map’s accuracy. Its geographical content confirms that this is a missionary map, which shows a number of new missions in Paraguay, Tucumán, Chaco, and Uruguay (the missions are designated as Civitates Christianorum). In addition to showing the missions and Spanish towns, the authors of the map took an even bigger step in mapping the indigenous cultural landscapes. In their desire to locate as many settlements as possible of the local yet-to-be-Christianized population, a large number of place-names of indigenous settlements are seen on the map for the first time, designated as “barbarian huts” (Tuguria Barbarorum). The map thus testifies to an active exchange of information with the natives. It is the knowledge of the local community, which was inserted into the Dávila-Machoni map, that significantly contributed to their success as mapmakers. According to the conventions of Jesuit cartography, they also noted places of martyrdom (marked by a cross and the names of the Jesuit martyrs),341 as well as the most frequent travel routes used by the Jesuits (marked by broken lines). The latter confirms that the map was created for the purpose, among other reasons, of facilitating the movements of Jesuits across
the province. The Dávila-Machoni map in Petroschi’s redaction drew great attention from the European public. At least two more editions were issued shortly after the Roman edition appeared in 1732. That year the German map seller Matthäus Seutter published his edition of the map.342 In 1733 Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville prepared his own redaction of the map of the Province of Paraguay to accompany the account by Jerónimo de Herrán in the Lettres édifiantes et curieuses (plate 23).343 In so doing, d’Anville significantly amended the Dávila-Machoni template, notably elaborating the hydrographic network in much more detail and adding the names of the rivers and tributaries that had been left nameless in the Dávila-Machoni original.344 Furthermore, besides the additions to physical geography, the Dávila-Machoni map in d’Anville’s redaction has undergone another political twist: there is no sign of a Portuguese presence on the northern bank of the Río de la Plata. The whole southeastern part of the region is presented as a compact Spanish territory, whose significance is further accentuated by the vibrant red color. The whole southern border between Brazil and Paraguay is false. Only the discreet note placed in the ocean in front of the coast (“toute cette côte dépend du Brésil”) suggests that this part of the territory was controlled by the Portuguese. Because the map was intended to be published in a Jesuit relation, this fact did not go unnoticed and after numerous criticisms d’Anville shouldered the blame himself.345 The Dávila-Machoni map tried to attract European attention once again when it was reissued in Venice in 1760, based
on Giovanni Petroschi’s plates from 1732. Nonetheless, the map lost the race against time. Reflecting the state of knowledge in the early seventeenth century, the 1760 edition was outdated. After the success of his map of Paraguay, the following year Antonio Machoni went on to create a map of the Gran Chaco region. Engraved by Giovanni Petroschi, the map was prepared for the purposes of a book by his Jesuit colleague Pedro Lozano that Machoni edited (fig. 68).346 It covers the region between 15°– 37° south latitude and 311°– 324° longitude east of Ferro. At first glance, Machoni’s map of the Gran Chaco appears to represent a literal excerpt from the 1732 map.347 However, a closer examination of 1733 map reveals some differences, such as reduced geographical content in peripheral regions outside the Gran Chaco. Although the 1733 map was drawn on the same scale as the 1732 map, the number of rivers that flow into the Uruguay River is smaller, and those flowing to the coast of Argentina are drawn with less accuracy. These facts point to the possibility that Machoni’s map of the Gran Chaco was created not according to the 1732 template, but possibly on the basis of Dávila’s 1722 original. In this case, Machoni’s 1733 map of the Gran Chaco gives us insight into the possible content of Dávila’s primary map. The appearance of Machoni’s 1733 map of the Gran Chaco marked the beginning of the production of detailed maps of other parts of the Province of Paraguay. Dávila and Machoni’s 1732 map of Paraguay as well as Machoni’s map of the Gran Chaco served as a good template for the Jesuits in the field to supplement these maps with their own The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 6 8. Map of the Gran Chaco prepared by Antonio Machoni in 1733 to illustrate a book by Pedro Lozano. (Österreichische Nationalbibliothek)
observations. The Guaraní missions grew to be the largest and most important missions in the region, so that was the part of the province that attracted the most attention from Jesuit cartographers. One of them was the Bavarian Jesuit Karl Rechberg, who served in the Paraguayan missions for more than twenty years.348 He compiled a detailed map of the Guaraní missions; it was edited by Johann Christoph Winkler and printed in Vienna around 1744 (fig. 69).349 Apart from the usual presentation of the Paraná, Paraguay, and Uruguay Rivers, which relied on older templates, Rechberg’s map also significantly improved the knowledge of the Tebicuary River and the wetlands of Ñeembucú based on his own observations and measurements. The map includes a graticule of longitude (317°– 325°30′ east of Ferro) and latitude (24°– 32° south), a scale, and extensive statistics on the Guaraní missions in 1744. It served as a template for other maps of the Guaraní missions, which other missionaries updated with fresh statistics.350 Following the great fame of the DávilaMachoni map of Paraguay, the next cartographic synthesis on the whole of the province was published by José Quiroga in 1749 (fig. 70).351 After returning from his maritime expedition to Patagonia (1745– 46), Quiroga began working as a missionary in the Paraguayan reductions. He used his missionary work in the field to reconnoiter the terrain that he traversed. By 1749 Quiroga had managed to compile a map of the Province of Paraguay that was based on his own determinations of longitude and latitude; it was published in Rome in 1753. Although Quiroga’s map represented
the wide territory of Jesuit missions from Santa Cruz de la Sierra in present-day Bolivia to the Province of Buenos Aires, as its title made clear, the map was focused on the region between the Paraná and Uruguay Rivers, where the Guaraní lived. The map was created on the eve of the conclusion of the Treaty of Madrid in 1750, by which time it was clear that the provisions of the long-obsolete Treaty of Tordesillas were no longer valid. Several written documents testify to the fact that Quiroga’s map was used during the negotiations and the demarcation of the new Spanish-Portuguese border. Compiled at a scale of about 1:2,000,000, Quiroga’s map was acknowledged to be the most detailed and accurate map of the disputed region and served as an important tool for both sides.352 Quiroga’s measurements of the coordinates of thirty-six major settlements (according to the Ferro meridian), a list of which we find on the left-hand edge of the map, allowed him to greatly improve the mathematical accuracy of his map (table 1). The list of settlements would have a great impact on numerous Jesuit cartographers, who would continue to use it for decades as their main source for the designation of the location of missions on their own maps. As can be seen from his map, as well as from the table, Quiroga paid special attention to determine accurately the locations of all the Guaraní missions, which were claimed by both the Spaniards and the Portuguese. For this purpose, Quiroga abandoned the conventions of Jesuit cartography: he omitted places of martyrdom, settlements of unbaptized natives, and destroyed missions, giving the impression that The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 6 9. Map of the Guaraní missions, printed in Vienna in 1744. The unsigned map is attributed to Karl Rechberg on the basis of Strobel’s correspondence. (Österreichische Nationalbibliothek)
F igur e 7 0. Map of Paraguay compiled by José Quiroga in 1749 and published in Rome in 1753. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
Table 1. Quiroga’s coordinates of Paraguayan towns and missions Settlement
Latitude
Longitude
Settlement
Latitude
Longitude
Yapeyú
29°31′
320°52′
Santa Ana
27°23′
322°32′
La Cruz
29°12′
321°12′
Loreto
27°22′
322°33′
San Borja
28°41′
321°49′
San Ignacio Miní
27°18′
322°32′
Santo Tomé
28°36′
321°53
Corpus
27°11′
322°35′
Concepción
27°58′
322°46′
Jesús
27°02′
322°21′
Santa María la Mayor
27°52′
322°54′
Trinidad
27°07′
322°23′
Mártires
27°45′
322°49′
Itapúa
27°15′
322°10′
San Javier
28°13′
323°07′
San Cosme y San Damián
27°06′
321°36′
San Nicolás
28°13′
322°56′
Santiago
27°11′
321°09′
San Luis
28°19′
323°12′
Santa Rosa
26°47′
321°13′
San Lorenzo
28°22′
323°27′
San Ignacio Guazú
26°53′
321°03′
San Miguel
28°25′
323°45′
Santa María de Fe
26°44′
321°09′
San Juan
28°21′
323°45′
Asunción
25°08′
319°41′
Santo Ángel
28°15′
323°55′
Corrientes
27°43′
318°57′
Apóstoles
27°53′
322°36′
Santa Fe
31°46′
–
San Joseph
27°42′
322°35′
Colonia [del Sacramento]
34°28′
321°43′
San Carlos
27°43′
322°29′
Montevideo
34°55′
323°24′
Candelaria
27°24′
322°22′
Buenos Aires
34°36′
321°03′
the local inhabitants had been completely wiped out. The inclusion of the routes of the Portuguese military campaigns of 1743 in the area east of the Uruguay River (Banda Oriental) confirms that it is a geopolitical map showing the theater of the Spanish and Portuguese territorial disputes in the region of the Jesuit reductions. Moreover, just like his Spanish cartographic predecessors, Quiroga said nothing about the Portuguese presence on the northern coast of the Río de la Plata. Yet, although he was deeply engaged in the Spanish cause, Quiroga’s map strangely contains certain incompletenesses and mathematical errors that accidentally benefited Portuguese interests. One of the 192
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biggest flaws was that he failed to show the true territorial extension of the Spanish missions northward, especially those in Chiquitos region, which enabled to Portuguese to negotiate their border in Mato Grosso in their favor. Moreover, he was noticeably careless about the systematic observation of longitudes, which also failed to benefit the Spanish side.353 The Portuguese recognized these mistakes and happily referred to Quiroga’s map whenever it suited them. Furthermore, Quiroga repeats previous misunderstandings, such as the idea of the apocryphal Lake Xarayes as the source of the Paraguay River (in the explanatory note), or the presentation of Lagoa
dos Patos as a small pond. Nevertheless, Quiroga’s map was accepted as the most reliable map of the region and was thus used as the main source for many maps produced by European commercial cartography. One of the most controversial cases of the use of Quiroga’s template was certainly that of Bellin, who practically plagiarized Quiroga’s map of Paraguay in his Carte du Paraguay (Paris, 1765). Although he did declare in the subtitle of the map that he used Jesuit sources (without mentioning the name of the author), Bellin’s map was nothing more nor less than a copy of Quiroga’s work.354 2.2.4.1 Cartographic Reflections of the Treaty of Madrid
The Spanish-Portuguese treaty that was signed in Madrid in January 13, 1750 (Treaty of Madrid) was a turning point not only in the colonial history of South America, but also in the history of Jesuit cartography of that area.355 Under this treaty, part of the southern border between the Spanish and Portuguese possessions was moved to the Uruguay River. With the implementation of this demarcation, the seven most populous and most prosperous Spanish missions, in which about thirty thousand Guaraní lived, were to be attached to the Portuguese crown or moved west of the river.356 During the enforcement of the treaty in Paraguay, both the Spaniards and the Portuguese tried to get Jesuit cartographers to work on the demarcation of the border. Although Jesuits from both sides took part in the demarcation (Bartolomeo Panigay for Portugal and José Quiroga for Spain), they were not directly in charge of mapping the new bor-
der. Their position in the border committee was mostly limited to their field guides and mediation with the local nations. Official maps of the border were produced by Spanish and Portuguese military staff or by government officials, not by Jesuits.357 Still, because the official survey of the boundary was not launched until 1752, the first general map of the new Spanish-Portuguese demarcation, known as the Mapa das Cortes, finalized in 1749, just before the treaty was signed, was based mainly on Jesuit maps (both Spanish and Portuguese; fig. 71).358 Although accepted and signed by both countries as the official map of the Spanish-Portuguese border according to the Treaty of Madrid, the Mapa das Cortes was produced under the direction of Portuguese officials alone (see section 3.1.4 on the Amazon in the aftermath of the Treaty of Madrid). Excluded from official border mapping, the Jesuits took a very active part in the aftermath of the Treaty of Madrid when, in an effort to protect their missions and landholdings, they produced a number of maps of the disputed region. José Cardiel, who was a strong opponent of the surrender of the Guaraní missions to the Portuguese, produced a map in 1752 presenting a delicate situation that emerged as a consequence of the treaty (plate 24).359 Clearly unsatisfied with the position of the new Spanish-Portuguese border in Paraguay, Cardiel compiled a map in which he confronted the demarcation lines of the Treaty of Tordesillas (1494) and the Treaty of Madrid. Produced at a scale of 1:3,800,000, Cardiel’s map was accompanied by a graticule of longitude (317°– 331°east of Ferro) The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 7 1. Mapa das Cortes, finalized in 1749 for the purposes of the new demarcation of the Treaty of Madrid (1750). Although prepared by Portuguese officials, the map relies heavily upon Jesuit knowledge. This is a Spanish copy. (Archivo General de Simancas)
and latitude (22°– 35°30′ south), a compass rose, and an extensive explanatory note. It was not a survey-based map, but a compilation based on the Dávila-Machoni map of 1732, whose mathematical base had long been out of date. However, the purpose of this map was to impress not with its mathematical accuracy, but with its political message. With this map, Cardiel openly advocated not only the protection of the missions, but also the protection of the territorial integrity of Spanish possessions. In that sense, this map is clear evidence of the use of Jesuit mapping for political purposes. To emphasize the new territorial division, all land assigned to the Portuguese side is colored dark yellow, making it clear that the new demarcation represented a huge loss not only for the Jesuits, but also for the Spanish crown. Cardiel’s map was not just a protest against the new border: he went even further, offering a compromise that would allow the Guaraní to stay in their settlements. He drew a bold green line to indicate an alternative border that, he hoped, would be acceptable to all sides in the conflict. The line starts in the north at the mouth of the Corriente River, where it flows into the Paraguay River. It continues to the Ygurey River, and then, past the Salto Grande on the Paraná River, turns south to the headwaters of the Iguazú and the Tebicuary Rivers. To the right of the line Cardiel added a note: “If the dividing line was placed along this path, neither the Indians nor the Portuguese would be harmed.” A note on the back of the map clearly confirms Cardiel’s standpoint: “The map was made with the intention of causing the line to move to the east as much as
necessary in order not to cut out the seven towns.” To argue his point of view, Cardiel inserted a few notes in his map, explaining how many inhabitants lived in some of the areas unfairly assigned to Portugal. In the first note, which he places in a box to the right of the course of the Uruguay River, Cardiel informs us that the area under Jesuit jurisdiction, encircled on the map with a double-dotted black line, contains thirty settlements of the Guaraní, who are big and strong people. In 1752 about 22,218 families with 96,749 souls lived there. In a note just above the first one, Cardiel wrote: “According to the new demarcation line, those seven towns were given to Portugal with their 29,199 souls who live there.” Along the Tebicuary River he placed a note about nine settlements destroyed by the Portuguese in 1630. We can find a similar note in the Guayrá region, about which Cardiel said that thirteen settlements were devastated by the Portuguese in 1625. As for the region between the Paraguay and Paraná Rivers, Cardiel said that it was under the control of the Franciscans and clerics. In addition to missions and towns, by marking the sites of landholdings (estancias), Cardiel’s map opened a debate on another important consequence of the Treaty of Madrid, which had not only political but also economic consequences. Many of the highly profitable Jesuit landholdings remained on the other side of the border. The map was given to the Marquis of Valdelirios, who was responsible for the enforcement of the treaty, by Father Lope Luis Altamirano, a representative of the Superior General, as an argument for reconsidering the implementation of the treaty, which would have The Viceroyalty of Peru
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grave consequences for the Jesuit economy of the region.360 Cardiel’s map was not the only Jesuit cartographic document closely related to the political and economic consequences of the new demarcation. The issue of landholdings raised by Cardiel’s map was further elaborated in another Jesuit map compiled just after 1752.361 Though unsigned, thanks to the cartographer’s notes, the map was attributed to Bernhardt Nusdorffer (fig. 72).362 References such as “the road that I took on my way to the Queguay,” or “the road that I took in November of 1752, coming from the village to the Queguay,” fully coincide with Nusdorffer’s itinerary at the end of 1752 as recorded in his account.363 At the time of the signing of the Treaty of Madrid and attempts to apply it
in 1752, Nusdorffer was the superior of the Guaraní missions and as such was directly involved in negotiations with native representatives of the seven Guaraní reductions that were to be removed. Although negotiations with representatives of the natives began as early as March 1752, the demarcation process, which started in September 1752, spurred the issue of the relocation of all Jesuit missions situated east of the Uruguay River. The map was created as a part of negotiations over finding suitable land to which to relocate individual missions, a procedure in which Nusdorffer was personally involved. The map shows the region of the east tributaries of the Uruguay River: the Río Negro, the Queguay, the Itarugua (Dayman), the Yarapey (Arapey), the Quaray,
F igur e 7 2. Map of Jesuit landholdings in the region of the Guaraní missions. The map appeared in 1752 as the result of a field expedition undertaken by Bernhardt Nusdorffer. The map also shows the sites proposed for a translocation of the Guaranís. (Facsimile from Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:24) 196
The Po s s e ssions of the Spa n i sh Crow n
and the Ibicuí. Although it looks like a rough sketch by an untrained cartographer, this large-scale map shows details of the hydrographic network that were absent from previous maps. Between the numerous tributaries of the Uruguay River, Nusdorffer noted all the missions that had become the subject of dispute. In contrast to Cardiel, who was primarily concerned with the political consequences of the new demarcation, Nusdorffer focused on its economic implications. The implementation of the agreed-upon demarcation would have meant the loss of vast tracts of land and large herds of cattle. The purpose of his map was to present the extent of Jesuit landholdings in the region of the Guaraní missions, whose economic power was becoming a growing problem for the Spanish authorities. An example of Jesuit property mapping, Nusdorffer’s map was most likely made to accompany his account, in which he described how, having received an order to transfer, he took steps to find other land for the thousands of natives who were being moved from their villages.364 Thus, in addition to the current position of the missions, the map showed the proposed sites for the translocation of the San Luis, San Borja, and San Miguel/San José missions.365 Although the map was prompted by strictly legal issues, Nusdorffer took the opportunity to add a few interesting anthropological notes to his map. South of the Río Negro he designated Cerro Yaceguá, which he accompanied with a comment about the role of those hills in the Guaraní culture: “In Cerro Yaceguá they have their graves, and they bring their deceased from many leguas away to bury them here.” For Cerro
Ybiti Maria (Ybiti = hill in the Guaraní language), Nusdorffer noted that it was an important site the Guaraní’s spiritual ceremonies.366 Cardiel’s and Nusdorffer’s efforts and their maps proved futile. In exchange for Colonia del Sacramento, Spain handed over the territory of the seven towns to Portugal. At the same time, the Guaraní, led by José Sepé Tiarayú, rejected Portuguese rule and the order to relocate. Instead, they fought for their land. An open rebellion of the Guaraní broke out in 1753 and turned into the Guaraní War. Although the Guaraní managed to defeat the joint Spanish-Portuguese force in 1754, by 1757 two-thirds of the inhabitants of the seven towns had been redistributed to other missions. Eventually the Treaty of Madrid was superseded by the Treaty of El Pardo (1761), and the Guaraní missions, although mostly ruined, were returned to Spain, while under the Treaty of Paris (1763) Spain was obliged to return Colonia del Sacramento to Portugal.367 2.2.4.2 The Jesuit Cartography of the Guaraní War and Its Aftermath
The conflict that broke out because of the demarcation after the Treaty of Madrid and the consequent Guaraní rebellion contributed to a period of exceptionally intense cartographic activity in the area. Because of the need to carry out the demarcation of the new border, and because of the military operations undertaken by the Spanish and Portuguese authorities that were aimed at pacifying and relocating the local population, the military became deeply involved in The Viceroyalty of Peru
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the mapping. Thus, in 1752– 60 a significant number of Spanish and Portuguese military topographic maps were created, as well as demarcation maps showing the wider border region.368 The development of military mapping contributed significantly to a better understanding of the complex interior of the Province of Paraguay on the Spanish side, that is, the neighboring Río Grande do Sul and Mato Grosso on the Portuguese side. The progress made by military cartographers would also be reflected on Jesuit maps of the Province of Paraguay, which, after 1752, thanks to data from official maps of Spanish and Portuguese provenances, started to improve more rapidly. A map that reveals the strongest influence of military cartography on Jesuit mapping is the one of the eastern part of the Province of Paraguay (Banda Oriental), a region directly affected by the demarcation of the Treaty of Madrid. Compiled on a large scale with unprecedented topographical details, the map looks like a true military map. And in many ways it was. The author of this fascinating map was the Bohemian Jesuit Tadeáš Xaver Enis.369 He was assigned to the Guaraní reductions of San Luis Gonzaga (1751) and San Javier (1756), situated east of the Uruguay River. During the insurrection that followed the Treaty of Madrid, he accompanied the Guaraní army as a chaplain and nurse. During the war he compiled an east-oriented map that shows the region between 322° and 326° longitude (east of Ferro) and 28° and 32° south latitude (plate 25).370 Although the map is a copy and did not necessarily originate from Enis’s hand, the contents are certainly his work, as is confirmed by the title of the map 198
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itself. In that regard, it is important to note the existence of one more almost identical map. This unsigned and undated map is definitely the work of some Jesuit father, most likely Tadeáš Xaver Enis. The similarity between the two maps is extremely high, and it is possible that this unattributed map is actually Enis’s original (plate 26).371 The map in plate 25 shows the region of Guaraní missions, divided into separate estancias run by Jesuits.372 The largest of these, the San Miguel estancia, is mentioned in the title of the map as well. Although the map provides an extremely detailed look at the expansive economy Jesuits developed through a system of plantations, land cultivation, and livestock farming, the map does in fact show a theater of the ongoing Guaraní War. Only the presentation of cultural landscapes reveals the Jesuit origin of the map: Enis noted all missions (existing and destroyed), churches, and chapels, which were evidence not only of the Jesuit presence but also of strongholds of the Guaraní resistance. The San Miguel estancia is shown here not because of its economic importance, but because of its geopolitical significance as a new zone of demarcation between the Spanish and Portuguese realms, in which some of the decisive battles of the Guaraní War took place. No other Jesuit map gathered so much detailed topographic information on a single region. The map’s precise presentation of the orography and hydrographic network includes a large number of rivers and streams, with their respective denominations mostly noted in the Guaraní language. A detailed presentation of relief, traffic, river crossings, and the military forts
was strongly influenced by the needs of war operations, and intense military mapping was undertaken accordingly.373 The version of the map in plate 26 reveals additional details. In the lower right-hand corner of the map is a note on the demarcation of new Spanish-Portuguese border, which started in September 1752 and reached the disputed missionary region in February 1753, when the demarcators arrived at the chapel of Santa Tecla (marked on the map by a cross). That was the exact spot where Enis, accompanied by well-armed Guaraní troops, prevented the demarcation commission from entering missionary territory. After that event, demarcation work was suspended and armed conflict began, which soon erupted into the Guaraní War. As a witness to the battles that followed, this map is a kind of war diary. West of the Tobi River,374 Enis indicated the presence of the Portuguese. This is surely a reference to an event that occurred in April 1754, when Enis, accompanying the Guaraní troops, joined in their attack on the Portuguese.375 Enis took special care to mark the sites of important battles that took place in the southern part of the San Miguel estancia. The first is marked with a skull and the inscription Acangue runa; it was the site of a battle between the Spanish and the Guaraní during the campaigns of 1755– 56. Outnumbered by allied Portuguese and Spanish troops gathered near Santa Tecla, the Guaraní avoided direct combat, opting instead for guerrilla warfare. One of their strongholds was in the nearby Batoví mountains, where, in one of his encounters with the Portuguese troops, the Guaraní leader José Sepé Tiarayú was killed (marked on the map).
Near the Batoví mountains we see crosses at Cruzimboiapi, which may mark one of the largest battles of the conflict in which Guaraní were defeated. It was at the battle of Caiboaté, also known as the massacre at Caiboaté, that over fifteen hundred Guaraní were slain on February 10, 1756. After this bloody encounter, resistance ceased, and the Jesuit missions were mostly depopulated. Although Enis’s maps are now kept separately from his manuscript, both maps correspond closely to his diary.376 The circulation of knowledge between military and Jesuit cartography is confirmed by another Jesuit map compiled after the Treaty of El Pardo (1761), under which the eastern missions were again returned to Spain, and also after the Treaty of Paris (1763), which again handed over Colonia del Sacramento to the Portuguese. Created sometime after 1763 by José Cardiel, the map shows the missions of the Paraná and Uruguay Rivers after the annulment of the Treaty of Madrid (fig. 73).377 At that time Cardiel worked as a chaplain in Río Grande do Sul, ministering to the Spanish troops that invaded the area.378 Although the influence of the Dávila-Machoni template is still noticeable, Cardiel supplemented his map with extensive new information based on contemporary military mapping of the region. The presentation of the hydrographic network is much more developed and improved, as is the mathematical base of the map. Because the map appeared after the Treaty of Madrid had been superseded, the Spanish-Portuguese border is not designated (instead, the administrative division of the provinces is indicated), but Colonia del Sacramento is marked as a Portuguese The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 7 3. Paraguayan missions after the Treaty of Paris (1763). The map is attributed to José Cardiel. (Archivo Histórico de Loyola)
possession. While the improved presentation of physical geography clearly reflects the achievements of military mapping, Cardiel’s vision of the cultural landscape reflects the concerns of a missionary. Numerous notes inserted in his map honor the memories of Jesuit martyrs who lost their lives in Paraguay. Some of these notes are copied from the Dávila-Machoni map, but most are new and refer to events that took place between 1716 and 1763. An extensive explanation note along the top edge of the map reflects even more clearly the complexity of the relationship between the colonial power and the Jesuit order shortly before the latter’s expulsion. In the left-hand column are shown the administrative seats of different types of secular and religious institutions (provincial seats, audiencias, dioceses, and archdioceses), while the institutions of Jesuit authorities are presented in the right-hand column. Among the latter we find symbols for existing missions, missions that were relocated, destroyed missions, and towns that were left in the care of secular clergy, as well as for places where “barbarian gentiles” had killed Jesuit missionaries and destroyed the town, for geographical spots where missionaries who brought the light of faith to the pagan nations were slain, and for places where the Jesuits were killed by the Portuguese. Thus, the whole map was turned into an ode to Jesuit commitment and sacrifice.379 2.2.4.3 The Post-Suppression Jesuit Cartography of Paraguay
José Cardiel remained one of the most active cartographers of the Province of Para-
guay, even in the post-suppression period. Upon his exile to Italy, where he settled in Bologna for the rest of his life, Cardiel continued his keen interest on the region from which he had been exiled. Based on his research, he compiled two major accounts, the Breve relación de las misiones del Paraguay (1771) and the Compendio de la historia del Paraguay (1780).380 To accompany the Breve relación, Cardiel prepared a map to which he refers in his narrative.381 However, because both accounts remained in manuscript and were published only long after his death, with the passage of time his map became separated from the manuscript. To fill the obvious gap, Pablo Hernández, the editor of the Breve relación, accompanied the text with two of Cardiel’s maps that corresponded well with the manuscript: the previously mentioned map of Paraguay prepared after 1763 and a map of the Guaraní missions.382 Finalized sometime around 1771, the manuscript map of the Guaraní missions is very similar to the one Cardiel prepared in 1752. However, while his 1752 map was focused on the issue of the demarcation itself, this map of the Guaraní region discussed another consequence of the new border— the Jesuit landholdings (fig. 74).383 Accompanied by a graticule of longitude (318°– 328° east) and latitude (25°– 35° south), the map shows the exact spatial extent and boundaries of the Jesuit estancias. All the Guaraní missions, all Spanish towns, and the demarcation of 1750 are also designated, pointing out that many of the vast Jesuit landholdings remained on the Portuguese side. The survival of the lucrative Jesuit agrarian economy was now in question. The Viceroyalty of Peru
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Figur e 74. Landholdings map of the Guaraní missions, prepared by José Cardiel around 1771. (Archivo Histórico de Loyola)
Although the profitable estancias had been returned to Spanish jurisdiction in 1761, they all collapsed soon after the expulsion of the Jesuits. In 1771 Cardiel draw one more map of the Guaraní missions. It shows the landholdings in the region between 24°– 32° south latitude and 319°– 325° longitude (east of Ferro; fig. 75).384 This map is compiled at a larger scale and according to an updated mathematical base. Judging from its 202
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style, the map was prepared to be included in some of his published accounts. For this map, Cardiel clearly noted his source in the legend: he used Dávila’s map, which he supplemented with the results of astronomical observations conducted by the Jesuit astronomer Buenaventura Suárez. In contrast to his previous map of the landholdings, this map does not attempt to present all the individual estancias. Rather, it identifies vast tracts of land designated as Estancias
de Ganados (cattle estancias) and situated to the east and west of the Uruguay River, as well as economic resources of some other properties, such as several kinds of trees, including “trees of yerba maté.” This map of the Guaraní region had an extension in Cardiel’s next map, that of the Gran Chaco, compiled in 1772. Drawn and edited in the same style as the map of the Guaraní missions, it was obviously prepared to accompany the same publication (fig. 76).385 It shows the area between 312° and 320° longitude (east of Ferro) and between 19° and 32° south latitude. It was also based on Dávila and Machoni’s template, which was updated with a more accurate mathematical base, as well as with the Jesuit missions established after 1733 (all of them already noted in Cardiel’s map of 1763). Cardiel carefully marked all the towns and reductions, both existing and destroyed, in the valleys of the Pilcomayo and Bermejo Rivers. In this, as well as in all other Cardiel’s maps created after the suppression, there is no mention of Jesuit presence (present or former), nor does he include any symbols of the Jesuit order. The most comprehensive map that Cardiel compiled during his exile in Italy was the historical map of the Province of Paraguay, which he finalized around 1771 (plate 27).386 From his letter of April 27, 1771, which he sent to Father Pedro de Calatayud, we know that Cardiel was working on a map of Paraguay with its three governorates and the adjacent Province of Chiquitos.387 Like most of Cardiel’s works, this map is unsigned, but it is attributed to him based on the aforementioned letter and the similarity to his other maps.388 The title,
inserted in the lower left-hand corner of the map, reveals some information about the author and the purpose of this piece: “The historical map made by one of the members of the Royal Committee for Demarcation that in the year 1766 delineated the historical border of the Jesuit Province of Paraguay.” It is well-known that Cardiel, who opposed implementation of the Treaty of Madrid, stayed in the region, first to help organize the transfer of the reductions west of the Uruguay River, and then to support the Spanish troops that invaded the Río Grande region. After the end of war operations and the conclusion of the Treaty of Paris (1763), Cardiel spent the rest of the time before the suppression in Concepción, a Jesuit reduction near the Uruguay River. From there he could easily take part in the demarcation of the province, by which all forcibly taken territories were returned to Spain.389 The map reproduced in plate 27 shows the Province of Paraguay, which in 1766 was divided into three governorates (dioceses)— Buenos Aires, Tucumán, and Paraguay— with a northern extension to the Chiquitos missions. It covers the area between 309°– 325° longitude (east of Ferro) and 15°– 35° south latitude. It is accompanied by a scale and a compass rose and colored quite vividly. In regard to physical geography, the map corresponds with other maps compiled by Cardiel before 1771 (and influenced by the Dávila-Machoni 1732 template), but it has a strong anthropological accent in terms of the representation of the human landscape. In fact, this map of the Province of Paraguay in many ways represents the continuation of Cardiel’s 1746 The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 75. Landholdings map of the Guaraní missions compiled by José Cardiel around 1771 to accompany some of his accounts. (Facsimile from Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:35)
Figur e 7 6. Map of Gran Chaco with its missions, compiled by Jose Cardiel around 1771 to accompany some of his accounts. (Facsimile from Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:36)
map of Patagonia. Besides the presentation of missions (existing and destroyed, and those run by Jesuits and those of other orders) and other categories of settlements (major Spanish towns, governors’ seats, bishops’ seats, seats of estancias, monasteries, etc.), the subject that predominates in the representation of cultural landscape is the anthropological description of the indigenous population. Cardiel categorized the local nations in regard to their way of living: he distinguished between natives who used horses (marked C) and those who traveled on foot (P), just as he had in his maps of Patagonia. To provide more detailed information on the natives, he inserted many notes in his map containing data on the number of inhabitants in the provinces, whether they were baptized, and whether they were peaceful or bellicose. He provided the most extensive information on the natives who lived east of the Paraná River, where he used to work. About the Chiquitos, who belonged to the governorship of Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Cardiel said: They are a nation that travels on foot, very brave, and never conquered by the Spaniards. They live in villages, and sustain themselves by growing crops and hunting monkeys in the forest. Today there are ten towns with twenty thousand souls; they are nearly all Christianized.” As for the Payaguás, however, they “are a nation of infidelis who travel along the Paraguay River in small canoes and rely upon fishing. The area along which they travel stretches continuously for more than two hundred leagues. They are all naked. In their nakedness, they come to Spanish cities to sell their fish. Sometimes they break the peace 206
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they have with the Spaniards, stealing and killing; they are very treacherous. They never convert to the Christian faith.” Of the Chiriguanos, the Tobas, the Mocobíes, the Abipones, the Mbayás, and the Lenguas, Cardiel noted: “All these six nations ride horses, and they are very restless and warlike. The Chiriguanos have their villages with very small houses made of sticks and mud and with thatched roofs. They sow corn, legumes, and some roots. They are in continuous wars with other nations and occasionally with the Spaniards. The other five nations live a nomadic life, and they are very difficult to convert. Nevertheless, the Jesuits have already Christianized about seven hundred souls, who now live in the reductions.” His notes also addressed the wildlife (he designated the areas of wild horses, tigers, and monkeys), climate, mines, soil fertility, and crops (sugar, cotton, rice, wheat, and fruits). Another very important issue that Cardiel documented on this map is related to the Spanish borderland with Portugal, whose inhabitants were subject to hunting and enslavement by the bandeirantes (the area in question is marked with a bold red line). Cardiel’s historical map of the Province of Paraguay thus compiles all his knowledge on the physical and human geography of the region. By referring to population, religious aspects, natural resources, economic potential, and political issues, Cardiel surpassed the simple cartographic presentation of the province. Thanks to his comprehensive approach, he turned his map into a compendium of knowledge and a tribute to Jesuit merits for sustaining Spanish power over the Province
of Paraguay. In the number and quality of his maps, Cardiel is the most distinguished Jesuit mapmaker of the Province of Paraguay and one of the most important Jesuit cartographers in general. José Sánchez Labrador was another important Jesuit who completed most of his research in Italian exile.390 Sánchez Labrador was a great scholar in various fields of natural science and one of the most productive Jesuit authors. After serving among the Guaraní for many years, around 1757 he started to travel and explore the wider region between the Paraná and Paraguay Rivers. In 1759 he went to Asunción, and in 1760 he was transferred to found the reduction of Belén on the Río Ypané, some 200 km (130 miles) north of Asunción. From there he undertook many expeditions, of which the most famous was his 1766– 67 journey along the upper Paraguay River and through the eastern part of Chiquitos. Upon the suppression, he succeeded in bringing with him to Italy most of his manuscripts, overcoming many difficulties and prohibitions. He continued his work in Ravenna and finished it in 1772. The work was divided into three parts: El Paraguay Natural ilustrado, El Paraguay cultivado, and El Paraguay católico.391 In regard to cartography, the last of these is the most important. El Paraguay católico, which is today preserved in several slightly different manuscript copies, is accompanied by maps whose number varies from copy to copy.392 Furlong, and more recently Sainz Ollero, identified the maps attributed to Sánchez Labrador.393 All these maps correspond closely to the contents of the El Paraguay católico manuscript, and thus we can claim
with certainty that they were created for the purposes of the manuscript. The manuscript itself was developed over a long period of time. We know that it was started back in Paraguay and finally completed in Italy on the basis of some additional studies. This is supported by the dating of the volumes: the first was finalized as early as 1769, and the second in 1772. Since they are mainly based on Sánchez Labrador’s field explorations, the maps he made for the purposes of the El Paraguay católico manuscript were probably for the most part compiled back in Paraguay, particularly the maps of the area in which he worked and explored. Evidence for this lies in the iconography of his maps, which, atypically for the post-suppression period, explicitly mention the missions as being run by the Jesuits and mark the places where Jesuits were martyred. Given that his manuscript, like Cardiel’s, was not published during his lifetime, it is difficult to tell whether Sánchez Labrador simply did not have time to adjust his maps for the printed edition or actually intended to print them in their original form. Only two of Sánchez Labrador’s maps were attached to the version of the manuscript that was prepared for publication in 1910: his map of the Paraguay River downstream of Belén, and the map of the Paraguay River upstream of Asunción. The third map, which was published in the 1910 edition, was subsequently attached through the intervention of the book’s editor. It is a map of the Gran Chaco drawn by Joaquín Camaño for the purposes of José Jolís’s Saggio sulla storia naturale della provincia del Gran Chaco (Faenza, 1789; fig. 87).394 Most of cartographic work Sánchez The Viceroyalty of Peru
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Labrador prepared for the purpose of El Paraguay católico is preserved. Yet, there are a number of maps that we know today only through their facsimiles published in Furlong (Cartografía jesuítica del Río de la Plata [1936]). Furlong noted that these maps were held by Viau and Zona, booksellers in Buenos Aires.395 Unfortunately, they have never been found. As mentioned above, Sánchez Labrador’s maps, as we know them today, correspond strongly to his manuscript. The first volume of his manuscript, which is still unpublished, contains an introduction with an overview of the Spanish exploration of the Americas. It is accompanied by several astronomical tables (declination of the sun and stars) and a description of the Province of Paraguay (geography and history), including Lake Xarayes.396 The (published) second and third parts of the manuscript provide a journal of his 1766– 67 expedition from Belén to Santo Corazón in Chiquitos. The travel log is followed by his extensive note on the Chiquitos missions. In the next chapters he discusses the natural and social history of Latin America, and then he returns to the region of Paraguay and its Mbayá nation, to which the most of the manuscript is dedicated. Three of Sánchez Labrador’s maps are a historical view of the missions of the Itatín,397 Guayrá,398 and Tape regions,399 which were destroyed by the Portuguese about 1630. Although accompanied by a graticule of longitude (east of Ferro) and latitude, these maps are nothing but rough sketches, with numerous errors and a greatly distorted hydrographic network. Especially erroneous is the map of the Tape region (fig. 77), in which the author also in208
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cluded the early missions, which were abandoned in 1630, and the reductions founded after 1682. Although these maps are not a reliable representation of the early missions, they are important for the history of Jesuit cartography, as they demonstrate the use of historical maps in Jesuit accounts.400 For the region of the Guaraní missions, where Sánchez Labrador stayed from 1747 to 1759, he produced two maps. The first of them shows only the basic hydrography and the position of the missions,401 while the second, which is Latinized, is a somewhat corrected version of the first (fig. 78).402 Although he consulted all contemporary astronomical data, Sánchez Labrador’s maps are much less detailed and less accurate than Quiroga’s and Cardiel’s maps of the same region. Large blank areas and the absence of many missions that are known to have been existence do not speak well of his cartographic skills. An extensive note in the lower margin of the second maps telling us about the calculations he relied on, attests to Sánchez Labrador’s efforts to base his maps on mathematical and astronomical observations: Thanks to several and repeated observations of the immersions and emergences of the satellites of Jupiter, made at the same time and with glasses of the same force as in Saint Petersburg by the distinguished Mr. Delisle, in the ancient village of San Cosme by P. Buenaventura Suárez in the period of five years; comparing these and other observations, it was ascertained that the Latitude of San Cosme, counting from the Island of Ferro, was of 322°25′, and
F igur e 7 7. Map of the Tape region compiled by José Sánchez Labrador, probably to accompany his narrative El Paraguay católico. (Facsimile from Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:44)
that the difference of meridian between the Royal Observatory of Paris and the above-mentioned town of San Cosme was 3 hours, 52 minutes, 20 seconds, and between the pueblo de la Encarnación, commonly called Itapúa, it was exactly 3 hours and 53 minutes.403
In addition to the maps of the Guaraní missions, Sánchez Labrador mapped a path west of the Uruguay River between the reduction of Yapeyú and the Mocoretá River (fig. 79).404 The map reflects the situation after the Treaty of Madrid. The explanation note testifies to the existence of troops (marked no. 15), and the relocation of the San Luis mission (no. 20). It affords us a unique insight into the local economy.
Fifteen places with chapels are designated along the marked path, and in some of these, the presence of pasture animals such as sheep, mares, mules, donkeys, and dairy cattle is noted.405 Although unassuming in terms of mathematical accuracy, it is an interesting example of mapping the economic resources of the missions, a subject that was previously known only from the property maps of Jesuit estancias. In speaking about his activities in Tarumá (south of Belén), Sánchez Labrador gave a description of his voyage, which he illustrated with a simple map of the region between Belén in the north and the two villages of Tarumá— San Estanislao and San Joaquín— in the south. Although it is one of his lesser-known maps (although it is The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 78. Map of the Guaraní missions that José Sánchez Labrador based on astronomical observations by Buenaventura Suárez. (Facsimile from Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:41)
F igur e 7 9. José Sánchez Labrador’s sketch of the region along the Uruguay River, between the reduction of Yapeyú and the Mocoretá River, drafted about 1772. (Facsimile from Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:43)
Figur e 8 0. Map of the Paraguay River and its tributaries, compiled by José Sánchez Labrador around 1772 and published in the printed version of El Paraguay católico. (Agencia Española de Cooperación Internacional para el Desarrollo) 212
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included in the printed edition), it is probably his most reliable, showing the natural environment and the cultural landscapes of the region he knew best.406 The attractive presentation of vegetation, natural resources, and local paths connecting the missions gives us interesting insight into the microcosms of the Tarumá region. His 1766– 67 expedition along the upper Paraguay River generated the rest of his maps. The aim of the expedition was to find a safe route from the Province of Paraguay to the missions of Chiquitos. After completing the route, which started from the reduction of Nuestra Señora de Belén and ended in Santo Corazón in Chiquitos, Sánchez Labrador wrote a diary, in which he inserted some maps and sketches. The map that is also included in his printed version of El Paraguay católico is the map of the Paraguay River from Asunción (25° south) upstream to 16° south (fig. 80).407 The map shows numerous tributaries of the Paraguay, designated with their names, and the overland route he took, which is marked with a dotted line. Although his presentation of the Paraguay River is greatly distorted, the biggest achievement of his map is the accurate presentation of Lake Xarayes (the Pantanal), which is shown not as the source of the Paraguay River, but as the wetlands between the Paraguay River and its headwaters in Mato Grosso. To further illustrate the diary of his 1766– 67 expedition, Sánchez Labrador inserted another three maps (not published in the printed edition of 1910). The first shows the route of his journey from Belén to Santo Corazón in Chiquitos, with distances calculated in leagues (fig. 81), while the second (which
F igur e s 81 & 82 . José Sánchez Labrador’s map showing his route from Belén to Santo Corazón in the Chiquitos (left) and detailed map of the area between the Paraguay River and Santo Corazón (right), both attached to his manuscript version of El Paraguay católico. (Real Academia de la Historia)
lacks a title) is a far more detailed map that presents part of his route between the Paraguay River and Santo Corazón (around the Laguna de la Cruz) (fig. 82). The third map is a sketch with a triangle of calculated distances between Belén, Santo Corazón, and back to Belén.408 It is interesting to note that the coordinates of Santo Corazón he indicated in his narrative are quite different from those on the map of his route. To lend his account an encyclopedic character, Sánchez Labrador included a description of lands he did not visit, including the whole of the provinces of Chiquitos and Moxos. The maps of Chiquitos and Moxos
that he attached to illustrate this part of his account stand out from other maps that he enclosed to his manuscript. Sánchez Labrador was not the author of these maps, at least not entirely. The manuscript map of Moxos was a copy of the map attached to the Jesuit report on the province written by Father Juan de Beingolea in 1764 (see section 2.2.1 on Peru).409 While his map of Moxos did not provide any original data, the map of Chiquitos (which lacks a title), one of the most rarely mapped Jesuit regions, provides interesting information (fig. 83).410 Although formally part of the Province of Paraguay, because of its reThe Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 83. Map of the Chiquitos missions, probably based on Joaquín Camaño y Bazán’s observations and supplemented by José Sánchez Labrador. The map was attached to a manuscript copy of El Paraguay católico. (Real Academia de la Historia)
moteness and the lack of routes toward the Gran Chaco, the Chiquitos missions were never fully integrated into the Province of Paraguay and were thus poorly known and mapped. Only after the Treaty of Madrid did this Jesuit province gain more attention because of the issues concerning the demarcation of the Spanish-Portuguese border. The original author of the map is unknown. However, we do know that, at that time, the very knowledgeable geographer and cartographer Joaquín Camaño y Bazán worked as a missionary in Chiquitos, which makes him the most likely candidate.411 Sánchez Labrador could have used some of the Camaño’s maps of Chiquitos as a base, sup214
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plemented by with his own findings on the upper Paraguay River. Accompanied by a graticule of longitude and latitude, the map represents an up-to-date catalog of knowledge about the physical and human geography of the Province of Chiquitos. All the Chiquitos missions established before 1760 are properly located and designated. The author of the map was also well acquainted with the frequent relocations of the Chiquitos missions owing to Portuguese raids, which marked the history of the province from its very beginning: he marked the old mission of La Concepción as destroyed (destrudia) and also designated the new mission of La Concepción, which was
founded in a new location in 1722. The map also refers to the mission of San Rafael, which is designated both in its old location and in the new one, chosen in 1719. Since the Spanish-Portuguese border along the Guaporé River, which was established in 1750, was of major importance for the development of this province, it is delineated with a bold red line (rather faded on the printed version). On the eastern bank of the Guaporé River that, after 1752, became part of the Portuguese Captaincy of Mato Grosso, the first military installations had already been completed. Along with his map of the upper Paraguay, the map of Chiquitos is the most significant cartographic work produced by Sánchez Labrador. Martin Dobrizhoffer is yet another Jesuit who left a significant mark in the postsuppression cartography of Paraguay. In his long missionary service, his first destination was the missions among the Mocobíes, where, accompanied by Florián Paucke, he spent four years in the mission of La Concepción de Mocobíes. In 1754 he was sent to San Jerónimo de Abipones, founded by Jose Cardiel in 1748; two years later he moved to San Fernando de Abipones. After spending some time in the Guaraní mission of Santa María la Mayor, he was transferred to serve among the Tobatines in the mission of San Joaquin, from where he conducted his exploration of Mbaéverá. Experiencing the different landscapes and cultures of Paraguay, Dobrizhoffer accumulated significant knowledge of the region. While Cardiel and Sánchez Labrador continued their work in Italy, upon his return to Europe Dobrizhoffer eventually settled in Vienna,412 where he devoted his time to writing a book titled
History of the Abipones, which he compiled between 1777 and 1782. Published initially in Latin (Vienna, 1784), it was later translated into German (Vienna, 1874), English (London, 1822 and 1970), and Spanish (Resistencia, 1967– 69).413 Dobrizhoffer’s narrative is based on a radical criticism of contemporary writings by European travelers and conquerors of Paraguay.414 His extensive study of the Abipones is accompanied by three maps that are attached to his book. The criticism he expressed of existing narratives is reflected in his cartographic work as well. Dobrizhoffer indicated in the foreword to his book that he had found no fewer than twenty-six factual mistakes concerning the geography, the natural environment, and the local nations of Paraguay in Louis-Antoine de Bougainville’s travelogue alone. Because of his distrust of other authors’ sources, when compiling his maps he relied mostly upon his own findings and upon observations by several trusted Jesuit missionaries. In an introductory motto taken from Plautus (Truculentus 2.6), he underlined the importance of firsthand knowledge and personal testimony: “An eyewitness represents more value than ten ear-witnesses. Those who only hear, say merely what they have heard; those who see, know it with certainty.”415 Dobrizhoffer added an interesting comment in the introduction to his narrative: Geometry is there a rara avis; and were any one capable of measuring the land, and desirous of the attempt, he would want the courage to enter it, deterred either by the fear of savages, or by the difficulties of the journey. Men of our order The Viceroyalty of Peru
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[the Jesuits], seeking out savages for God and the Catholic King, examined the coverts of its forests, the summits of its mountains, and the banks of its remotest rivers, traversing, to the utmost of their ability, every part of the province, always risking, and often losing, their lives. In Peru and Mexico, there is no corner which the Europeans, attracted by the hope of gold, have not searched into; but we are still unacquainted with great part of Paraguay, a region unproductive of gold, and, therefore, wanting the requisite allurement. As for what is discovered, who can deny that it is almost entirely owing to the efforts of the Missionaries? The plains which they traversed, the rivers which they crossed, together with the distances of places, they have noted with the utmost fidelity, though not always with equal art.416
He continues with a statement (which is published only in the Spanish edition) that although several Jesuit maps were published in Madrid and Rome, they were all defective. The only map Dobrizhoffer found reliable was the one produced by José Quiroga and accompanied by a list of settlements with their respective coordinates. Among European cartographers, Dobrizhoffer admired only Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville, whose map noted many destroyed Spanish towns and missions, but in many other respects he found this map inaccurate as well.417 The first map Dobrizhoffer published in his narrative shows the whole Province of Paraguay (fig. 84).418 It is based on Cardiel’s map of Paraguay, made after 1763. 216
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However, Dobrizhoffer made some corrections of the region’s geography. The characteristic “knee” at the confluence of the Paraná and Paraguay Rivers is now considerably reduced, with the upper course of the Paraná River taking on a much more accurate outline. He also greatly supplemented the data on the tributaries of the Uruguay, Paraguay, and Paraná Rivers. Because he was familiar with Sánchez Labrador’s exploration of Lake Xarayes and the source of the Paraguay River, he presented the upper Paraguay River and the Pantanal wetlands exactly in accordance with Sánchez Labrador’s findings. Unlike Cardiel, Dobrizhoffer correctly separated the lower course of the Salado from the Dulce River and marked its inflow into the Paraná River. But it is strange that, at the same time, he included so little geographical information about the Chaco, for we know that he explored it extensively. Moreover, Dobrizhoffer repeated some errors in regard to the western part of the region that he took from other Jesuit maps. Some of the errors were his own. To the north of Asunción he noted the existence of the “town of Paraguay.” In the southern portion of the map, Dobrizhoffer designated the Serranos missions (Nuestra Señora de la Concepción, Nuestra Señora del Pilar, and Nuestra Señora de los Desamparados) more than two hundred miles from their actual location. In an attempt to indicate the Paraguayan nations, he lettered their names with noticeable large labels, but he failed to include the largest— the Guaraní, which he noted with completely different and smaller letters than those used for all others. Certainly, the biggest error he made was to refer to the Atlantic Ocean as the Mare Pacificum.
F igur e 84. Mappa Paraquariae, attached to Martin Dobrizhoffer’s Historia de Abiponibus (Vienna, 1784). (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
He gave the greatest attention to designating Paraguayan settlements, Spanish towns, and former Jesuit reductions, neutrally indicating the last as villages (pagum). Although in his narrative Dobrizhoffer openly paid tribute to the Jesuit contribu-
tion in the development of the region, in his map he left out any mention not only of the former Jesuit presence, but also of the Franciscans, who took over the management of most of the Jesuits’ former missions. The suppression affected the decoration of the The Viceroyalty of Peru
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map as well: instead of the usual Jesuit anagram, it includes only the royal coat of arms of Spain. Dobrizhoffer’s map is accompanied by a graticule of longitude (304°– 329° east) and latitude (11°– 37° south), with no reference as to which prime meridian is used. In his narrative he clearly referred to Ferro, but the coordinates he mentioned in his writings do not correspond with the coordinates of the same places on his map. Dobrizhoffer’s coordinates on the map were strongly influenced by the map Cardiel made after 1763. However, in his narrative Dobrizhoffer used different sources to define the position of certain locations. Most of the coordinates coincide with those from José Quiroga’s map, but many
others use the positions given by Sánchez Labrador. The use of different sources in the narrative caused confusion about designations of missions, which were often inaccurately located in regard to their actual coordinates. Perhaps the fact that the map was elaborated in Italian exile explains some of its mistakes. However, the discordances, as well as many errors in the presentation of the geography of the region, which Dobrizhoffer knew well from his missionary work, could indicate that the map, which is signed not with his full name but with by his initials, was actually edited by someone else in his name. Of course, it would be quite an irony for an author who began his book by insisting on fieldwork as the only proper
F igur e 85. Martin Dobrizhoffer’s map of the area between the Paraná and the Paraguay Rivers, designated as the Tarumá and Mbaéverá regions (Vienna, 1784). (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library) 218
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Figur e 8 6. Map of Martin Dobrizhoffer’s actual mission, where he worked among the Abipones (Vienna, 1784). (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
basis of mapping and with strong criticism of all existing maps of Paraguay. The second map attached to Dobrizhoffer’s book showing the area between the Paraná and the Paraguay Rivers refers to the region of Tarumá and Mbaéverá, which he explored in 1765 (fig. 85). Unfortunately, this map suffers from the same inaccuracies as his map of Paraguay.419 It shows a marshy and desolate area that looks rather empty. Dobrizhoffer’s mapping of the hydrographic network is rife with errors, and he indicates the position of only a very few native settlements (Barbarorum Contubernia). His itinerary is marked with a dotted line. Dobrizhoffer’s third map, drawn on August 2, 1765, shows the actual mission alongside the Paraguay River in which he worked among the Abipones (fig. 86).420 Drawn from a semi-bird’s-eye view, it represents the spatial organization of the mission and scenes from its daily life and strongly resembles the drawings of his Jesuit col-
league Florián Paucke.421 Dobrizhoffer was primarily a chronicler who recorded valuable information about the native nations of the Paraguay region in his narrative. His involvement in cartography was probably sporadic and limited only to the purpose of accompanying his text. One of the last Jesuit maps of Paraguay appeared in 1789 (fig. 87).422 Made by Joaquín Camaño, it was published in José Jolís’s Saggio sulla storia naturale della provincia del Gran Chaco (Faenza, 1789).423 Jolís’s narrative, which deals comprehensively with the geography, history, and ethnology of the region, is a compendium of Jesuit knowledge of the Gran Chaco. The Catalonian Jesuit José Jolís was well qualified to write this account.424 He served for many years as a missionary in Macapillo and made three trips attempting to enter the Gran Chaco from Tucumán (in 1760, 1765, and 1767), leaving diaries of each.425 Jolís relies not only on the results of his own research, but also upon The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 87. Map of the Gran Chaco and neighboring countries by Joaquín Camaño, published in José Jolís’s book (Faenza, 1789). (Ibero-Amerikanisches Institut, Berlin)
those of many of his Jesuit predecessors and contemporaries. In his narrative, he frequently cites Martin Dobrizhoffer (Historia de Abiponibus), Charlevoix (Histoire du Paraguay), Nicolás del Techo (Historia Provinciae Paraquariae Societatis Jesu), and Pedro Lozano (Descripcion chorographica and Historia de la Compañía de Jesús en la Provincia del Paraguay). His associate Joaquín Camaño was also very knowledgeable and highly qualified. A native of Tucumán and a former missionary in the Chiquitos missions, Camaño wrote his own narrative, Noticia del Gran Chaco, in 1778, a work that includes his personal missionary experience and a detailed study of the geography of the Chaco (published only in 1955 by Furlong). When he received the invitation from Jolís to compile a map of the Gran Chaco for the purpose of the latter’s book, Camaño was already familiar with the geography of the region. The map, which covers a wide region between the Paraguay River in the east and the slopes of the Andes, is accompanied by a graticule of longitude (311°– 322° east) and latitude (18°– 32° south), a compass rose, and a scale in Spanish leagues. As for the prime meridian, the map refers to Ferro, which is defined as a “meridian 20 degrees west of Paris”— a reflection of the influence of European cartographic practice. Unlike Dobrizhoffer, whose geographical data were not always in accordance with his maps, Jolís obviously was directly involved in the preparation of Camaño’s map, since the coordinates mentioned in the narrative match their positions on the map. The map is compiled in Italian, including the toponymy and explanation key, which distinguishes Spanish colonies with
the status of cities from estates or colonies with villas, and it notes other minor colonies, forts, native settlements with a mission, destroyed cities, and destroyed missions. Although attached to the narrative, which clearly describes the former Jesuit province, in order to be neutral the missions designated on the map are not further attributed. Camaño’s drafting of the map was extremely meticulous. From his correspondence it is known that he discussed its content with several other former Jesuits from the Spanish dominions who, while living in Italian exile, organized an informal network of mutual support. Camaño’s map was compiled on the basis of his own data, which he also supplemented with information from his Jesuit colleagues— but only those he trusted and held in high regard. In that sense, Sánchez Labrador’s impact is clearly visible in Camaño’s presentation of the Paraguay River, especially of its upper course and eastern tributaries. In the presentation of the hydrography of Tucumán, Camaño relied upon Cardiel’s 1772 map of the Gran Chaco. Camaño’s misconception of the course of the Salado River as flowing not into the Paraná River but into a salt lake called Lago di Porongo (Lake Mar Chiquita), is also taken from Cardiel’s 1772 map. As expected, the most original presentation that Camaño provides is that of the Chaco region itself. He provides a more complete presentation of the Chaco than we see in Cardiel’s map of 1772 or those by Sánchez Labrador. Camaño accurately marked all the missions established before the suppression. He also recorded the names of numerous native groups and significantly improved the representation of the physical The Viceroyalty of Peru
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geography. The complex hydrographic network, especially the headwaters on the eastern slopes of the Andes, as well as detailed representation of the terrain is unprecedented not only on Jesuit maps, but also on maps of European commercial cartography. However, the rich geographical content, combined with the dense toponymy, created one of the map’s shortcomings: it contains so much information that its legibility is poor. The final stage of preparation of the map was marked by strong tensions between the engraver, Giuseppe Ballanti, and the author. Camaño insisted that his name, including his full title—“Doctor of the University of Córdoba del Tucumán”— be given in the cartouche. Ballanti claimed that this was not possible— there simply wasn’t enough space. Camaño suspected, however, that the omission of his name was not the result of technical difficulties, but rather an attempt to deny his authorship of the map, and the confrontation grew into a battle that almost jeopardized the whole publication. The problem was solved by reducing the size of the letters, which enabled the insertion of Camaño’s full name and title.426 To straighten things out further, in his preface José Jolís paid special tribute to the cartographer: he said explicitly that the map was authored by Joaquín Camaño, a doctor and native of Paraguay, and based on the most accurate information.427 This disagreement illustrates how important the question of authorship was to cartographers. Moreover, Jolís included extracts of Camaño’s writings in his book. Camaño probably produced other maps as well, but his map of the Gran Chaco published in Jolís’s book is the only one directly attributed to him. 222
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2.2.5 The Province of Quito: Challenging Border Disputes along the Amazon
The Province of Quito emerged in the area of the former Inca Empire in the northwestern part of South America, in the territories that today include Ecuador, northern Peru, western Colombia, Panama, and parts of northern Brazil. The Spanish colonial government was established in 1534, after the resistance of the native population was broken, with the foundation of Santiago de Quito (later to be renamed San Francisco de Quito). In 1563 Quito became the seat of a royal audiencia (real audiencia) under the Viceroyalty of Peru. After 1717, the audiencia became part of the newly created Viceroyalty of New Granada. This viceroyalty was temporarily suppressed by the king of Spain in 1723, and the audiencia of Quito was returned to the Viceroyalty of Peru. In 1739, the Viceroyalty of New Granada was reestablished, and the audiencia of Quito was returned to it until it declared itself independent from Spain in 1822. The Jesuits first arrived in Quito in 1586.428 However, because of the substantial presence of the Dominicans, Mercedarians, Franciscans, and Augustinians, who preceded them in that particular area, the Jesuits did not become well established in Quito until the seventeenth century.429 Unlike in other provinces, where they initially concentrated their missionary work in cities and only afterward extended their labors to rural areas, in Quito the Jesuits immediately began working as missionaries and founding reductions in the interior, whereas in urban centers they managed to
become more established only when they founded their first colleges (Quito, 1620; Cuenca, 1638; Popayán, 1640; Ibarra, 1685; and Riobamba, 1689). The importance of the Jesuit presence in Quito began to increase in the mid-seventeenth century, when members of the order became a significant factor in local economies in the province’s rural areas, where estates run by the Jesuits were deeply involved in farming and textile production.430 The Jesuits began establishing their first more permanent missions in Quito as early as the late sixteenth century. In about 1599 they penetrated the Napo and Aguarico Valleys, but, having been refused permission to work in the Napo region in 1630, they directed their efforts toward Maynas, in the upper Marañón region.431 Jesuit efforts among the Maynas were concentrated around San Francisco de Borja and to the south of the Marañón River. Between 1638 and 1655 five main missions were founded in the Huallaga Valley. By 1660 the Jesuits had established missions downriver as far as the Ucayali. From there they gradually expanded their jurisdiction down the Marañón into the Amazon, among the Omagua people. In 1685 the Jesuits founded the mission of San Joaquín de Omagua; they then moved into the Amazon, with the founding of Nuestra Señora de las Nieves de Yurimaguas in 1689. When in 1686 the Franciscans again began working in the Aguarico-Napo region, the Jesuits complained that the Franciscans were working within their jurisdiction, and the latter were forced to withdraw and concentrate their efforts on groups on the Putumayo River. Between 1709 and 1767 the Jesuits estab-
lished seventeen missions on the Napo and Aguarico Rivers, some of them shortlived.432 At the time of the suppression in 1767, the Jesuits held thirty-three missions in the Province of Quito, twelve of them on the upper Marañón, eleven along the Amazon (the lower Marañón), six in the Napo Valley, and four along the Pastaza River. From the very beginning of their presence in Quito, the Jesuit missionaries were engaged in continuous controversy with the Portuguese authorities concerning the boundary between the Spanish and Portuguese possessions in the Amazon region. The source of this territorial dispute was an Act of Possession drawn up by the Portuguese explorer Pedro Teixeira in 1639. Encroachment into the Amazon had begun as early as 1636, when a group of Spanish Franciscans led by Captain Juan de Palacios departed on an expedition from Quito and reached the Napo River, whereupon they claimed the territory for the Spanish crown. Teixeira, in turn, started on his expedition from Pará westward in 1637; when he reached the Napo and the Aguarico, one of its main tributaries, he declared the entire area a territory of Portugal. His argument was that they had founded their own settlement at the mouth of the Rio do Ouro (Río del Oro), which they called Aldeao do Ouro (Village of Gold). Consequently, when Teixeira claimed the whole territory in the name of Portugal, he was challenging the validity of the Treaty of Tordesillas, which, in the Amazon region, granted Portugal rights only to the area to the mouth of the Vicente Pinzón River (Oiapoque River), located slightly northwest of the mouth of the Amazon.433 Until 1640 no The Viceroyalty of Peru
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one saw the serious problem in this issue, yet soon everything changed. The whole history of the exploration and dispute over the control of the Amazon should be considered in the wider context of Iberian Union (1580– 1640), which brought the entire Iberian Peninsula as well as the Portuguese overseas possessions under the rule of the same Spanish king. Thus, when the dispute first appeared, both sides were under the same crown. In such circumstances, the Portuguese side did not expect that the Spain would be against the Portuguese presence in the Amazon basin, nor that Portugal would be seen as a rival to Spanish interests. After 1640 the consequences of Teixeira’s expedition took on a whole new meaning: Portugal had its own king, so the territory claimed by Teixeira belonged to Portugal alone. The Spanish Jesuit Cristóbal Diatristán de Acuña, who accompanied the Teixeira expedition, did not publish his account of it until 1641.434. Although Acuña urged Spain to lose no time in settling the Amazon, his advice came too late. Morover, aware of the fact that Portugal now could benefit from Acuña’s account, the Spanish king tried to suppress the book. Yet, in 1640, João IV was proclaimed king of Portugal, and in 1641 the Portuguese of the colony of Brazil recognized him as such. The stage was set, legally, for a long-running conflict over the Amazon. The fact that the SpanishPortuguese dispute largely coincided with the dispute between Franciscan and Jesuit missionary provinces over their jurisdictions made the conflict even more complex, raising tensions between both the two empires and the two orders of the Catholic Church. 224
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Upon the restoration of the Portuguese crown, clashes between the Spanish and Portuguese in the Amazon intensified, especially during the second half of the seventeenth century, when both Spanish and Portuguese missionary activity in the disputed area increased. By then the Portuguese missionaries had reached the Río Negro, 1600 km (994 miles) upstream from the mouth of the Amazon. At the same time, the Spaniards were moving to expand the mission of Maynas, toward the mouth of the Río Negro. Exactly at that time the first Jesuit maps appeared that, apart from Quito’s coastal area, showed the interior of the Amazon basin in more detail.435 Their emergence was driven by the Jesuits’ need to define their possessions with respect to the Franciscans and the neighboring Portuguese territory, as well as their need to explore the complex hydrographic system of the upper Amazon, through which they had to travel to maintain their missions. Tensions over the control of territory in the Amazonian region prompted the Czech Jesuit Samuel Fritz to explore the course of the river in detail.436 Upon arriving in Quito in 1686, Fritz was given the task of placing the area between the Napo River and the Río Negro under the Spanish crown’s control. The territory that Fritz was sent to occupy spanned about 700 km (435 miles) along the river and was inhabited by the Omagua nation, described by Europeans of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries as the largest and most important of the various nations that lived along the banks of the Amazon River. Stationed at the mission of San Joaquim, at the mouth of the Napo River into the Amazon, Fritz
was very familiar with the incursions of the Portuguese into Spanish territory. In 1689 he decided to travel down the Amazon as far as the Portuguese station of Belém do Pará. When he finally reached Belém, he was captured and imprisoned for twentytwo months on suspicion of being a Spanish spy. He was finally released in April 1691 by order of the Portuguese king. He embarked upon a return journey to Quito, which he reached in 1692.437 Although the exact reason for his journey is still the subject of controversy,438 while traveling along the Amazon Fritz made painstaking field observations. The geographical knowledge acquired from these two eventful journeys to and from Pará is well documented in the diary that he kept during both.439 To accompany his account of the Amazon region he explored, Fritz compiled a map based on his own observations, which represented a vast equatorial area from the Pacific coast in the west to the mouth of the Amazon in the east. Although only imperfectly equipped (he used a semicircle of three inches, which allowed him to determine latitude, but did not have a telescope and pendulum with which to determine longitude), Fritz managed to compile a comparatively accurate and detailed manuscript map of the Amazon and its tributaries, of which several editions would be printed. In the annotation to his map Fritz says: For better knowledge and general information concerning this great river Marañón I have made this geographical map with no little toil and exertion, having navigated it in the greater part of its course as far as it is navigable.
Although up to now so many maps have appeared, without prejudice to any one, I say that no one of them has been drawn with the proper survey of levels, since they neither saw nor took the levels of this great River, or they extracted them from authors, whose writings left them confused. With this new exploration of the whole of this river Amazon, that I have made and brought to light, I do not appraise my work for the carrying out of the duties of my undertaking, when one sees other greater undertakings of human diligence in this same enterprise either disappointed or hindered by fate, so that no one up till now has been able to accomplish his designs, unless I proclaim that, as a work of wholly under the guidance of the Divine Providence, it was his pleasure to prostrate me with mortal attacks of illness the better to make use of me, as one of his chief instruments.440
The earliest version of the map, titled Tabula Geographica Missionis Omaguæ Societatis Iesu, is likely to have been completed before Fritz’s arrival in Belém do Pará in 1689 (fig. 88).441 Although the map does not bear his signature, its authorship is attributed to Fritz based on the lettering, which is identical to that on the second version of the map, which appeared, signed with his name, in 1691. Unlike the later versions of the map, the version reproduced in fig. 88 shows only the area of the Amazon region where Fritz was directly involved in missionary activities, between the Napo River and the Río Negro, and was most likely used only for internal purposes. The second version, also The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 8 8. Samuel Fritz’s earliest extant map of the Amazon, compiled about 1689. (© Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu)
unsigned, appeared in 1690, when Fritz was in Belém.442 Its coverage is significantly extended, showing the Amazon River from the Andes to the Atlantic Ocean. The third signed autograph, which appeared in 1691, was brought to France by the French explorer Charles Marie de La Condamine in 1745 and deposited in the king’s library in 1752.443 La Condamine had obtained the map from Nicholas Schindler, the Jesuit superior of the Maynas mission, during his ten-year journey through South America. The map covers an area larger than that of the previous manuscript but uses a smaller scale, so the whole of the Pacific coast from Callao northward to beyond Cape San Francisco is represented, together with the territory of the audiencia of Quito, part of the audiencia of Lima to the south, and some of the audiencia of Santa Fe to the north.444 This version served as a template for the printed version of 1707. Fritz’s map of the Amazon basin represented an enormous advance in the knowledge not only of the complex hydrographic network of the Amazon River and its trib226
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utaries, but also of the cultural landscape, marked by the presence of numerous local indigenous groups as well as of Spanish and Portuguese missions where the Jesuits, Franciscans, and Carmelites were active. Although undoubtedly compiled on the basis of firsthand observations, the map visibly relies upon the maps of his predecessors, particularly to the results collected by Cristóbal Diatristán de Acuña in the expedition led by Pedro Teixeira in 1639. It was during this expedition that Acuña made the first extensive observations and measurements of the courses of the Amazon River and of its tributaries, which were published in his account of 1640. The writings included astonishingly exact data on the length and size of the Amazon (he determined some latitudes and the estimated distance in leagues between consecutive locations). His account also includes the first reference to a water connection between the Amazon and the Orinoco, another major South American river system. Interesting enough, even in this first Jesuit account on the Amazon region there is clear evidence of Jesuit
rivalry with Franciscans, which would be a constant in almost all Jesuit relations and maps produced for the provinces of Quito and New Granada (see, e.g., Fritz’s and Gumilla’s maps). To minimize the Franciscans’ precedence in this region, Acuña even accused them of lacking geographical knowledge.445 Nonetheless, the extensive data from Acuña’s diary enabled the compilation of the first detailed map of the Amazon River, which was drawn up in 1655 by Blaise François comte de Pagan and titled Magni Amazoni Fluvii.446 It was that map that significantly influenced Fritz, serving as a starting point in the compilation of his map (fig. 89). Fritz was also familiar with the revision
of Pagan’s map, titled Le Pérou, et le cours de la Rivière Amazone, which was compiled by the prominent French cartographer Nicolas Sanson (fig. 90).447 Pagan’s influence was evident in the representation of the configuration of the hydrographic network, which Fritz largely drew relying upon Pagan’s data. However, when it came to the mathematical basis of the map, he preferred to trust Sanson.448 While Pagan’s map relied upon the prime meridian passing through the island of São Miguel (in the Azores), Fritz copied the graticule from Sanson’s map, which, according to calculations by Cintra and Oliveira, was constructed according to Ferro (eastward).449 Fritz’s map shows the entire course of
F igur e 8 9. Map of the Amazon, prepared by Blaise François comte de Pagan in 1655 based on an account by the Spanish Jesuit Cristóbal Diatristán de Acuña. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library) The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 9 0. The Amazon Basin, as presented on Nicolas Sanson’s map Le Pérou, et le cours de la Rivière Amazone (Paris, 1657) and used by Samuel Fritz as one of his sources. (MacLean Collection)
the Amazon River, as well as the courses of its many tributaries. It was at the time the most detailed representation of the Amazon River and its basin.450 Fritz was also the first to follow the Marañón instead of the Gran Pará (Ucayali) and to prove the real source of the Amazon. The indication of the Marañón River as the largest Amazon branch, which had its source on the southern shore of a lake that he called Lauricocha, near Huánuco, was a discovery that was noted on Fritz’s map for the very first time. Apart from the complex hydrography, the numerous ethnonyms, as well as all the missions established in the area, constitute the 228
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most important content of the map. A clear difference is apparent in the level of detail of the toponymic and ethnonymic information provided for the eastern (Portuguese) side versus the western (Spanish) side. The map actually focuses on the depiction of Spanish possessions in the area between the Negro and the Napo River, in which Fritz was active and which overlapped directly with the territorial interests of the Portuguese. Moreover, Fritz highlighted his own area of missionary work by stretching the designation “Omagua” precisely between the mouth of the Napo River, where he began his missionary work, and the mouth
of the Japurá River, to which his missions extended. However, although Fritz’s map actually discusses the borders of Spanish possessions in the Amazon area, the edition of 1691 does not show the demarcation line. Because a significant part of Spain’s former possessions around the Río Negro was already under the control of the Portuguese, Fritz, obviously dissatisfied with the situation, avoided representing such territorial relations directly, considering them a momentary injustice. It is therefore worth noting that Portuguese settlements are represented in the lower Amazon; without any type of identification, the reader is unable
to see where Spanish territory ends and Portuguese begins (the map has no explanation key). Although completed in 1691, the map was not printed until 1707 (fig. 91).451 The engraving of 1707, made by Juan de Narváez in Quito, was sent to Philip V, notably, during the War of the Spanish Succession (1701– 14), a period that coincided with an intensification of local disputes about the occupation of the mouth of the Río Negro.452 Although the printed edition is based on Fritz’s autograph of 1691, the version of 1707 has a slightly different content. Not all the rivers identified in the
F igur e 9 1. First printed edition of Samuel Fritz’s map of the Amazon (Quito, 1707). (Biblioteca Nacional do Brasil) The Viceroyalty of Peru
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1691 manuscript map are labeled; however, the names of many more local nations are given, as well as all the sites at which Jesuits were martyred. This edition was supplemented with information collected on Fritz’s later expeditions, especially the one he made in 1693, when he traveled from La Laguna to Lima and back; that provided him with knowledge of the upper course of the river. He also revised the notes attached to the map. The notes to the 1691 edition are much longer and mostly refer to the physical geography of the river, while the 1707 edition is supplemented with a much shorter description of the river, but with an extensive history of the Jesuit missions of the region and a long list of Jesuit martyrs.453 The purpose of this change in the discourse of the narrative accompanying the map was to further argue the Spanish claim to the area at the very moment when the dispute was reaching a peak. There was still another important change in the 1707 edition: Fritz decided to designate the territorial extent of Portuguese conquests. To that end, the Jesuit emblem, which is shown in the center of the map in the form of a blazing sun, spreads its rays only over the territory of the Spanish missions, from the Japurá River to the west. Fritz thus managed to indirectly demarcate the Spanish missions from the Portuguese after all. Also, the 1707 edition of the map, which was sent to the Spanish king, was adorned with two decorative cartouches, one of which included a dedication to King Philip V while the other was comprised of an ornate Spanish coat of arms with figures of indigenous peoples and the symbol of the Society of Jesus. 230
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Two other printed versions soon followed, both of which brought Samuel Fritz’s missionary work to the attention of the wider public. As early as 1712, Fritz’s map was included in a travel account by Edward Cook entitled Voyage to the South Sea (London, 1712).454 This edition, prepared by I. Senex, left out the symbols of the Society of Jesus but retained the dedication to the Spanish king and the accomplishments of the Jesuit order. The second printed version of Fritz’s map was printed, with some modifications, in Paris in 1717, in volume 12 of the Lettres édifiantes et curieuses.455 This version tended to simplify the iconography of the edition of 1707. Nothing indicates that the territory represented was the object of violent territorial disputes. The title, formerly at the center of the image, was moved to the right. The coat of arms of the Kingdom of Spain was removed, and the contours of the territory it had formerly encompassed were filled in. In general, the decorative emblems were deleted, and the representation was stripped of its natural and ethnographic information. The symbols referring to the religious residences and small forts remained, but with no indication as to their belonging to the Portuguese or the Spanish, or to the Jesuits or to other orders. There is not even an indication of the missions established by Fritz himself among the indigenous Omagua, so carefully delineated in the original version.456 Moreover, the subtle demarcation between the Spanish and Portuguese territories that Fritz incorporated in his 1707 map was gone. Thus, while the information from 1707 tended to represent the real status of the Spanish missions, within the dis-
F igur e 9 2 . Edition of Samuel Fritz’s map, prepared for the Lettres édifiantes et curieuses in 1717. This is a 1781 reprint of that publication. (MacLean Collection)
cursive parameters of the Lettres édifiantes et curieuses, Fritz suggested to the readers that this space had already been entirely occupied by the Jesuits. His report, published in the Lettres édifiantes et curieuses, has the same discourse. When writing about the Amazon, Fritz refers only to the Spanish settlements, missions, and forts, completely omitting any mention of the existence of the Portuguese. In 1726 one more edition of Fritz’s map appeared, in Der Neue Welt-Bott, in which the scale was reduced and some of the geographical content eliminated.457 The reprint of Lettres édifiantes et curieuses that appeared in 1781 reproduced the more extensive and detailed 1717 edition (fig. 92). The purpose of Fritz’s 1707 map was to obtain military and financial support from
the colonial and royal authorities for the development of his missions among the natives of the frontier and for restoration of the Spanish possessions. However, the map reached Europe too late. The ship by which it was sent to King Philip was intercepted by the English, who in 1712 published the map for the first time, with modifications and at a reduced scale. Meanwhile, the verbal dispute between the Jesuits in the Spanish missions and the Carmelites from the Portuguese missions had already degenerated into armed conflict. After several attacks from both sides, the Spanish wound up losing territory to the Carmelites, who established themselves definitively in the region by around 1714, taking over and rebuilding the Jesuit missions destroyed during the conflict.458 The Viceroyalty of Peru
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In spite of the still unresolved dispute over the Spanish-Portuguese demarcation in the Amazon region, after the appearance of Fritz’s map, which gave the first more realistic outlines of the Province of Quito, as well as of the entire Amazon region, there was a stagnation in mapping that would last until the mid-eighteenth century. Exhausted from the War of the Spanish Succession and from the strain of maintaining control over the area bounded by the high Andes in the west and the impassable jungle in the east, the Spanish colonial authorities did not undertake any major mapping campaigns that would contribute to further enhancing the geographical perception of this part of the Spanish Empire. In that sense, even during the first half of the eighteenth century, a more significant initiative by the colonial authorities to map this space was lacking. This is also illustrated by maps produced by European commercial cartography, which, in the first decades of the eighteenth century, were still based on the achievements of Samuel Fritz.459 The French Geodesic Mission, which was undertaken in Quito from 1735 to 1745, marked a significant watershed in the mapping of this area. The equatorial mission was led by the French astronomers Charles Marie de La Condamine, Pierre Bouguer, and Louis Godin, and the Spanish geographers Jorge Juan and Antonio de Ulloa. To determine the exact shape of the earth, they measured the length of one degree of longitude near the equator, which passed through Quito and the nearby city of Cuenca. To take the measurements, they established a triangulation network, based on which they produced a detailed map of 232
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that part of the Province of Quito, as well as a detailed map of the city of Quito. Both maps were attached to the account that Juan and Ulloa published in Madrid in 1748.460 At the same time, La Condamine decided to pay more attention to the Amazon itself. During his return voyage to Europe, he descended the Amazon River where he met some Jesuit missionaries, including Nicholas Schindler who provided him with a copy of Samuel Fritz’s map. On his return to Europe, La Condamine published a report on his achievements. With the aid of d’Anville, La Condamine prepared a map of the river to accompany his publication entitled Carte du Cours du Maragnon ou de la grande Riviére des Amazones (fig. 93).461 With his excellent array of instruments, La Condamine was able to correct many of Fritz’s errors in the survey of the Amazon’s course. He conducted astronomical measurements in 1743 and 1744 and also acquired a series of documents, maps, and reports that he had collected from local authorities and missionaries during the trip (the sources of his data are clearly noted on his map as well as in his book). To emphasize the quality of his own measurements, La Condamine superimposed the position of the riverbed, as measured by Samuel Fritz, over his own map. His intent in so doing was to highlight the superiority of his own measurements. However, a comparison of these two maps shows how much La Condamine’s map was influenced by Fritz’s template. Moreover, mathematical analysis of the positioning of various geographical points on these two maps reveals that, contrary to expectations, Fritz’s representation of the Amazon was in some places more accurate than La Condamine’s
F igur e 93. Charles Marie de La Condamine’s map of the Amazon, drawn by Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville (Paris, 1745), which was based on both his own observations and on Samuel Fritz’s map of 1691, which he used as a template. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
map. One of the reasons is that when compiling the map for La Condamine, d’Anville consulted some additional sources, thus revisiting La Condamine’s findings.462 Nevertheless, because the members of the expedition were all eminent scholars whose expedition diaries were published in Europe in several languages, the French Geodesic Mission aroused great public interest and drew attention to the need for map production based on modern geodetic methods.463 Owing to the influence of La Condamine and his fellow academicians, the decade of 1730– 40 was marked by a transformation in the practices of measurement. The new approach involved the collection and measurement of geometric data through an articulated and instrumentally based scientific method.464 This new standard greatly affected both Jesuit and colonial cartography of the New World. One of the members of the expedition who cooper-
ated directly with La Condamine, traveling with him all the way to Belém, was the Ecuadorian geographer and topographer Pedro Vicente Maldonado y Flores (1704– 1748), who served in various administrative positions in the Province of Quito. Beginning in the 1720s, he undertook observations and collected topographic material for his map of Quito. Educated by the Jesuits in Quito, Maldonado was well acquainted not only with the results of Jesuit explorations but also with modern scientific surveying methods. When he arrived in Europe in 1744, he was given an opportunity to print his map of Quito in Paris, but his death temporarily prevented the fulfillment of this project. His map was published posthumously in 1750 in a redaction by d’Anville (fig. 94).465 As indicated by the title of the map, this edition was a synthesis that, in addition to relying upon Maldonado’s observations, also relied upon the results of explorations of various The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 9 4. Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville’s redaction of Pedro Vicente Maldonado’s map of Quito (Paris, 1750). (Library of Congress)
Jesuit missionaries. Thus, for example, Maldonado explicitly cited the 1743 map by the Jesuit Jean Magnin as a source for his representation of the Morona River, writing a note about it on the map itself. Meanwhile, La Condamine maintained an educational and personal relationship with the Jesuits in Quito. The fact that he taught at the University of Lima especially stimulated the exchange of knowledge between him and the local Jesuits, who under his influence came into closer contact with the French Enlightenment. La Condamine’s insistence on scientifically based methods in field observations and geodetic measurements had a profound influence on Jesuit cartographers in Quito. The cartographer who was most powerfully influenced by La Condamine was the Swiss Jesuit Jean ( Juan) Magnin.466 Magnin, who came to Quito as a young man in 1724 and spent the rest of his life in South America, established himself as an outstanding scholar in the fields of philosophy, natural science, and geography. His scholarly career was finally crowned with an appointment as a corresponding member of the French Academy of Sciences. He was a professor at the Jesuit college in Panama when he met La Condamine in 1736. This was the beginning of a close friendship between the two men. When Magnin was sent to the missions of Maynas in 1738, he also began extensive terrain explorations of the province, which would continue until 1746. When he met La Condamine again at the mission of San Francisco Borja in 1740, Magnin informed him of the results of his explorations of the Amazon basin. On the basis of his observations, up to 1740 Magnin managed to
compile an extensive report on the Maynas missions scattered among the numerous tributaries of the upper Marañón River.467 He also accompanied his narrative with a map of the Province of Quito, which, as indicated in the title cartouche, was completed in 1740. However, judging from the notes relating to the observation of the lunar eclipse in January 1741 that were written on the margin of the map, it is likely that he continued to update his map even after it was officially completed in 1740 (fig. 95).468 In surveying terrain he used astronomical observations and a compass, and under the influence of La Condamine, he sought to confirm all information obtained orally from other Jesuits, as well from the local indigenous population. The notes along the margins of the map show that he carried out determinations of latitude and made observations of the aforementioned lunar eclipse and of the variations of the magnetic needle of the compass. Considering the rich adornment of the map (which included not only an elaborately designed title cartouche, but also an additional cartouche containing the explanation key and scale), Magnin did not compile it for internal purposes alone but with the intention of publishing it together with his narrative. The map shows the entire Province of Quito, situated between 293° and 307° east of Ferro and between 5° north and 8° south latitude. Although Magnin relies on Fritz regarding the basic contours of his map (including the grid, which refers to Ferro), his map is significantly more detailed and is supplemented with quite a bit of information unknown to Fritz. Thanks to his exchange of data with La Condamine and The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 9 5. Facsimile edition of a map of the Province of Quito, prepared by Jean Magnin in 1740. (Mapoteca Histórica del Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, Ecuador)
Maldonado, Magnin’s representation of the areas between the cities of Quito and Cuenca and of the port city of Guayaquil proved to be the most detailed. And while for the western part of Quito he could rely upon modern science-based data from his contemporaries, when it came to the area of the Maynas missions, he had to rely on his own strengths. Taking Fritz’s map as a starting point but making his own observations and measurements, Magnin created his 236
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own representation of the complex hydrographic network and also determined the position of numerous Jesuit missions. His work resulted in a completely original map that brought together a number of hitherto unknown details about the Marañón River and its tributaries. Based on his own explorations, he significantly improved the representations of the Morona, Pastaza, Tigre, and Napo Rivers, as well as the representation of the upper course of the Putumayo
River. The Putumayo was particularly important because it formed a boundary between the Jesuit and the neighboring Franciscan missions. Morover, the territory of Jesuits and the Franciscans appears clearly defined, suggesting that the conflict of the seventeenth century had been resolved by then. At the same time, Magnin relied heavily on Fritz for the representation of the areas around the Huallaga and Ucayali Rivers. In addition to already well-established designations of Spanish cities, missions, villages of the indigenous peoples, and sites of martyrdom of Jesuit missionaries, the novelty of Magnin’s map was the representation of transport communications showing the main directions of movement of people and goods in the vast expanses of the Amazonian jungle. A list of Maynas governors in the upper right-hand corner of the map gives Magnin’s work a particularly official stamp. Magnin’s map was a great step forward in knowledge of the interior of the Province of Quito. The new approach to data collection based on scientific methods was brought to Quito by La Condamine and his Geodesic Mission, reflecting the powerful influence of the French Enlightenment. In this respect, Magnin’s map is important proof of the intensive interaction and exchange of knowledge between European academic scholars and the Jesuits. Not only did Magnin rely heavily upon the data obtained by the French expedition, but La Condamine used Magnin’s data abundantly as well. In fact, Magnin sent a copy of his manuscript, accompanied by a map of Quito, to La Condamine, who printed Magnin’s original map at the Academy of Sciences in Paris. Moreover, when he com-
piled his own map, La Condamine utilized a great deal of the information on Magnin’s map to present the upper Amazon. A similar exchange of knowledge with European scholars would be achieved by another renowned Jesuit scholar based in Quito, the Hungarian Jesuit Brentán Károly, better known as Carolo Brentano, who served in the Province of Quito for twenty-five years.469 He was posted to a remote area, near where the Tigre and Nanay Rivers met the mighty Marañón, to serve among the Yameos. It was the approximate boundary of Portuguese territory, which stretched eastward from there. Brentano made extensive scientific observations of the natural history of the region and of the culture of its native people. After Fritz and Magnin, he was also likely one of the first Europeans to explore large areas of the upper Amazon basin, including the lengths of the Ucayali, Tigre, and Napo Rivers. Based on his own field observations, Brentano sketched many maps of hitherto unmapped territories— none of which, unfortunately, have been preserved. This great work had to be undertaken because of the boundary dispute between Portugal and Spain; the frontier was finally fixed on the basis of Brentano’s maps in December 1743.470 Later he continued his exploration in the region north of the Amazon. In 1743 Brentano and a small group of young Jesuits made a daring trip into the Chocó and Darién regions of what is today western Colombia. Most of his endeavors were his own initiative and were not made by order either of the colonial government or of the Society of Jesus. When Brentano heard that he would be appointed as a procurator general of the JeThe Viceroyalty of Peru
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suits for Latin America, with an office based in Rome, he decided to travel from Quito to Europe following the course of the Amazon River to its mouth at the Atlantic Ocean. It seems that his decision was prompted by a desire to create a complete map of the Amazon, including the areas downriver that were unknown to him. Brentano was joined on this trip by the Jesuit Nicolás de la Torre, who brought with him his own extensive knowledge of the Amazon, along with his own sketches (Brentano made sure that Torre was specifically credited on Brentano’s map of 1751). When Brentano finally arrived in Rome in 1751, he started to work on a map that integrated all of his and Torre’s sketches.471 Brentano intended to publish a lengthy memoir with his scientific observations, richly illustrated with maps and plates, and chose Giovanni Petroschi as his publisher. At that time Petroschi was already a well-established associate of the Jesuits and had issued many of the most important printed maps of Latin America, including the famous Dávila-Machoni map of Paraguay. Petroschi engaged Giulio Cesare Cigni to draft the final manuscript and Domenico Cigni to engrave the map. Brentano’s map was published before the end of 1751 in a very limited print run (since it was intended exclusively for the use of highranking church or Spanish crown officials). Once his map was published, Brentano began the finalization of his narrative under the title Marannonensium S.J. Missionum generalis Historia iconibus illustrata. However, his sudden death in November 1752 prevented the possibility of its publication, and his almost completed manuscript went
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missing. His map thus remains the only surviving evidence of his explorations. Brentano’s map Provincia Quitensis presents not only the Province of Quito, but also the whole northern half of South America between 16° north and 16° south latitudes (plate 28).472 It shows the situation in the region after New Granada was reestablished as a viceroyalty and after the audiencia of Quito was returned to it. Although the map was based on Brentano’s and Torre’s original sketches, a clear reflection of at least three other maps is clearly visible. The representation of the Amazon River and Peru was influenced by Samuel Fritz’s map, while the depictions of New Granada and the Orinoco River were largely derived from Gumilla’s 1741 map. Brentano’s map was, of course, updated based on the results of new explorations— for example, the presentation of the Casiquiare canal, a natural connection between the Orinoco and the Río Negro, encountered by the Jesuit Manuel Román in 1744. In regard to the mathematical basis, Brentano greatly benefited from La Condamine’s map of the Amazon (Paris, 1745), from which he derived his graticule of longitude according to the Paris prime meridian (westward). As the map’s title referred to the Province of Quito, Brentano paid special attention to marking the border of his home province (bold orange line), separating it from neighboring New Granada and the Viceroyalty of Peru. However, he was much more cautious when it came to the Portuguese-Spanish borders settled according to the Treaty of Madrid, especially the Spanish border with Portuguese posses-
sions between the Orinoco and the Amazon. The territorial extension of the Jesuit missions along the Orinoco River and the Capuchin mission at the mouth of the Orinoco are marked with only a thin dotted line, leaving the reader without information on the demarcation of Spanish territory with Brazil and Dutch Guiana. The same silence can be noticed at the southeastern edge of the Province of Quito. While the Spanish-Portuguese border along the Yavari River (the present-day Peruvian-Brazilian border) and its confluence with the Amazon is clearly defined by a bold line, north of the Amazon the border is not shown, as at that time it was still in dispute. Brentano clearly marked only the territory from the Purus River eastward as Portuguese possession (Lusitanorum). Besides the representation of the extension of the province and its borders with the Portuguese, the aim of the map was to represent Quito and New Granada as a successful project of colonization and enlightenment, in which the Society of Jesus played the most important role ( José Gumilla did the same with his 1741 map of New Granada). That idea is additionally highlighted by a long list of colleges in the Province of Quito printed on the bottom left-hand side of map, emphasizing the crucial influence the Jesuits had on education. Moreover, in addition to classifying settlements as Spanish towns, missions, and indigenous villages, Brentano introduced eight other categories of educational institutions (colleges, novitiates, seminaries, universities, schools of theology, schools of morals, schools of philosophy, and gram-
mar schools), demonstrating the power of the Jesuit infrastructure in the region. The impressive cartouche serves to further glorify the order. Brentano’s map, made during the height of the Jesuit presence in South America, was thus the most detailed and accurate contemporary record of the topography of the province and its ecclesiastical institutions. Although very rare, the map’s importance became clear as soon as it was published, and was considered a valuable source of information by other scholars until the late nineteenth century. For instance, Brentano’s map was a major source for Juan de la Cruz Cano y Olmedilla when he was compiling his Mapa Geográfico de América Meridional (Madrid, 1775). Despite the sporadic emergence of detailed maps, such as those compiled by Ulloa and Maldonado and La Condamine’s synthetic map of the Amazon River, Magnin’s and Brentano’s maps long remained the primary sources for the representations of the Amazon basin, both in Spanish colonial cartography and in European commercial cartography. A map of the Province of Quito could still not be compiled without Jesuit sources even after the suppression of the order. This is confirmed by a map of the audiencia of Quito from 1779, compiled by the Spanish military engineer Francisco Requena y Herrera (1743– 1824) (plate 29).473 Requena served as a member of the boundary commission, established to delineate borders between the Portuguese and Spanish Empires, following the Treaty of San Ildefonso of 1777. He was subsequently also appointed governor of
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Maynas.474 Requena initially worked as a military engineer, overseeing the construction of fortifications (he fortified the port of Santiago de Guayaquil), but from 1776 until as late as 1793 he served as commissioner for the demarcation of Spanish territories along the border with Portugal and was entrusted with the task of surveying and mapping the terrain. It was the first official effort by Spanish colonial authorities to conduct more extensive mapping of Quito, in which Requena played a key role. By 1779 Requena had completed his first map of Quito, and in 1782 he extended it to include the region of New Granada. However, although his map of Quito was substantially enhanced and updated with data collected by La Condamine and Ulloa and, after 1767, also by Franciscan missionaries as well as ultimately by Requena himself, the influence of Samuel Fritz, Jean Magnin, and Carolo Brentano on it was clearly visible. 2.2.5.1 The Post-Suppression Vision of Quito: From Territorialization to Idealism
As in the case of other provinces, the Jesuits of Quito, expelled in 1767, continued their work in Europe, mostly in Austria and Italy. One of them was Franz Xavier Veigl,475 a former superior of the Marañón missions, passionate explorer, and cartographer of the Amazon. While he was serving as a missionary and a visitor, frequent journeys enabled him to explore the areas in which he traveled.476 Deported from Quito in 1768, he made his map during his imprisonment in Lisbon in 1769 (fig. 96).477 This somewhat roughly drawn map shows the boundaries 240
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of the Maynas jurisdiction, which occupied much of the Province of Quito. The map is particularly interesting because, although it was created immediately after the suppression, it has no signs of the self-censorship common in post-expulsion Jesuit cartography (the legend on Veigl’s map explicitly mentions the Jesuits). In spite of some graphic shortcomings of the map (such as the schematic representation of relief and some of the watercourses), it is accompanied by a graticule of latitude and longitude (measured from the Paris meridian westward), a scale, and a compass rose, which confirms that the author was a skilled cartographer, well acquainted with the maps of his predecessors and contemporaries. As he himself states in the foreword to his report, Veigl based his map on Carolo Brentano’s work as well as on those of La Condamine and Maldonado.478 Particularly noticeable is the influence of Brentano’s map, whose representation is characterized by a number of lake extensions along the river courses that are likewise noticeable on Veigl’s map. However, because Veigl traveled and explored extensively himself, he supplemented his map with the results of his own observations, particularly those made in the area of the Ucayali River during a visitation to the local missions. It is in this area that Veigl’s map provides an original representation of the meandering course of the Ucayali River, which none of his predecessors had provided. The influence of Brentano’s map is evident in the use of symbols and acronyms in the legend (just like Brentano, he designated the native tribes as NB [Natio Bar-
F igur e 9 6. Manuscript map of the Province of Quito by Franz Xavier Veigl, drafted during his imprisonment in Lisbon in 1769. While his autograph map is now considered lost, this is a reproduction published in Chantre y Herrera, Historia de las misiones de la Compañía de Jesús (Madrid, 1901).
bara]). However, unlike Brentano the focus of his map was not the role of the Jesuits in education, but the demarcation of Jesuit missions in relation both to Portuguese territory and to the neighboring Franciscan missions around the Putumayo River. The manuscript version of Veigl’s map served as a template for its printed edition, published in 1785 (fig. 97).479 Although heavily edited by Peter Parcar, who supplemented the geographical content of the map with extensive modern data, the printed version of Veigl’s map retained both the Jesuit designation of the missions and the Jesuit-Franciscan jurisdictional delimitation south of the Putumayo River. However, the decorative cartouche was fully devoted to the Church and colonial government, without any evo-
cation of the Jesuits. The cartouche is dominated by two figures— a woman holding a chalice and a cross, representing the Church, and another figure holding a pillar and anchor, metaphors of government. The bottom of the cartouche is illustrated with a representation of native Americans and a mythological figure or river god seated on a tortoise or turtle, holding a triton. While after the expulsion Veigl continued his work in his native country of Austria, Juan de Velasco settled in Faenza,480 where most of the Jesuits expelled from the Province of Paraguay worked as well. Velasco was a Creole whose family had emigrated from Spain two generations before he was born. After only five years of missionary work, as well as extensive field explorations The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 9 7. Map of Quito by Franz Xavier Veigl. Heavily edited by Peter Parcar in 1780 and published in 1785, the map retains little of its original geographical content. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
that he had conducted in the region, he had to leave his homeland and spend the rest of his life in exile. Although his written work is extensive, he is best known as a historian who during his exile wrote a well-known three-volume work titled Historia del Reino de Quito en la América meridional. Completed in 1789 and written in patriotic fervor, the work did not please the colonial authorities and was not published until fifty years after his death— in Quito, 242
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after Ecuador gained its independence. Summarizing academic and Jesuit knowledge on the natural and human history of Quito, Velasco’s narrative relies upon noncanonical sources. He alleges the existence of a pre-Inca kingdom in what is now Ecuador, which was known as Reino de Quito (Kingdom of Quito). His narrative sets the image of Quito against the deeply ingrained Eurocentric understanding of the New World in terms of its borders and its
ideal ethnic makeup, which has served as a cornerstone of nineteenth- and twentiethcentury nationalist thought in Ecuador.481 Because Velasco’s narrative deals with Quito’s history not only in terms of its ethnic identity but also in terms of its territory, he enclosed a map to present the geographical features of the country as well as its borders (plate 30).482 Velasco’s map shows the spatial extent of the colonial Province of Quito, whose territory was bounded on the south by the Viceroyalty of Peru, on the north by New Granada, and on the east by the Portuguese possession. All the boundaries are distinctly designated with respect both to the neighboring Spanish provinces and to the Portuguese territory, emphasizing the territorial integrity of his homeland. Although the map is based on data collected by Velasco and his Jesuit predecessors (especially prominent is the influence of Franz Veigl), considering the mathematical basis of the map, the pronounced influence of Francesco Requena’s map is noticeable, especially with regard to the coordinate system. And while for Requena the choice of Quito as a prime meridian is the result of the influence of the French Geodesic Mission and Maldonado’s 1750 map, for Velasco it was an expression of patriotism. Having marked Quito at the crossroads of the equator and the prime meridian, he made it the center of his world, not only in terms of identity, but also geographically. His place-names, among which he differentiates between cities and missions, are numerous and well placed. However, much of the country was still unknown even to Velasco, so he marked the whole region
around the lower Putumayo River as Países bárbaros poco conocidos. Bisected by the equator, this great tract of land graphically illustrates the confluence of Velasco’s representational and historiographical strategies. The map reveals a patriotic landscape that unites Velasco’s concerns about territoriality, knowledge, and civilization. His conception of geography pits an American natural landscape domesticated by two hundred and fifty years of Spanish rule against a stretch that remains unknown and therefore barbarian.483 Although the map records the missions precisely, there is no mention of missionary martyrdom or indigenous barbarism in it. As was the case with the bulk of post-expulsion Jesuit cartography, the Jesuit legacy was not explicitly mentioned on his map (e.g., the Jesuit contributors to the map were designated neutrally as Misioneros, while Velasco referred to himself as a Presb[iteri]o). Velasco’s map is a monument to his formerly glorious homeland, which had sunk into misery as a victim of colonial neglect. This map, which represents the actual territorial extent of Quito during the eighteenth century, serves as a counterpoint to his narrative, which describes the extent and the glory of the former kingdom, which covered a much larger area. In representing what remained of the territory of Quito, Velasco emphasizes how much was lost. He was convinced that it could have been saved by the Jesuit missions and economic reforms, in which the Creoles would have played a distinguished role. Though it includes a representation of the missions within one colonial Province of the Spanish crown, Velasco’s presentation is not a missionary map. The Viceroyalty of Peru
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Rather, its distinct ideological message classifies it among the maps exhibiting political, that is, proto-national features. The space is represented on the map as an important determinant of the identity underlying the development of the future nation. The map is also a monument to Jesuit accomplishments in Quito, both in the development of local economy in their missions and in the exploration and mapping of the barely passable regions of the upper Amazon. Velasco shared the conviction that the Jesuits were the perfect instruments for instilling civilization and for unifying the territory. Therefore, the map graphically illustrates how the Spanish crown had abandoned not just strategies but also the strategists (i.e., the Jesuits) who knew how to produce the desired results.484 Velasco’s mythical history of the Kingdom of Quito served as a base for Ecuador’s national identity during the time of nation building in this country. His map also played an important role in Ecuador’s conflict with Peru over its territorial integrity, serving as evidence of its legitimate claims to the Amazonian region. 2.2.6 New Granada: Defense and Commerce in the Orinoco River Region
The New Kingdom of Granada (Nuevo Reino de Granada) corresponded mainly to modern-day Colombia, Panama, and Venezuela. Though it was originally organized as a captaincy general within the Viceroyalty of Peru, in 1547, the Spanish king ordered the establishment of an audiencia, governed from Santa Fé de Bogotá. Ultimately, the kingdom became part of the Viceroyalty of 244
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New Granada, first in 1717 and permanently in 1739. The province was plagued by constant attacks on its territorial integrity. This especially came to the fore in the eighteenth century, when Spain violated the Treaty of Utrecht, signed in 1713. As part of the treaty, Britain received a thirty-year trade agreement (asiento) from Spain, which permitted British merchants to trade up to five hundred tons of goods per year in the Spanish colonies, as well as to sell an unlimited number of slaves. Spain believed that the British were taking advantage of the agreement and were engaged in smuggling, which led to an increase in tensions and culminated in the Spanish declaration of war on Britain. During the ensuing War of Jenkins’ Ear (known in Spanish as the Guerra del Asiento, 1739– 48), British troops invaded the city of Cartagena de Indias and the Orinoco valley. Attacks on the territorial integrity of New Granada did not come only from England. New Granada was additionally threatened by French attacks at the mouth of the Orinoco River; by the Dutch, who continued their support of the fierce Caribs in Guiana; and by the Portuguese, who were increasingly spreading their missions from the Amazon region northward. In such circumstances, New Granada was an important line of defense for Spanish territories in South America. An important backbone of this defense was the Orinoco River, which served as a major communication route along which key forts were built for defense. Thanks to the security provided by the fortifications, lucrative trade soon flourished, and the river was used as a trade route for exports. It was in the area along
the Orinoco where the Jesuits developed their missionary activities. After the first Jesuits arrived in New Granada in 1567, it took them thirty-seven years to establish the first Jesuit college, in Cartagena de Indias.485 Early attempts to establish missions in the eastern lowlands were thwarted by opposition from the secular clergy and Spanish settlers, so that it was not until 1661 that missionary work began in earnest (at the Río Casanare in 1661 and in the upper Orinoco River region around 1684). An additional obstacle to the spread of the Jesuits’ missionary activities came from five other missionary orders who had already been assigned territories in the eastern lowlands: the Franciscans had worked in the Píritu region since 1651, the Aragon Capuchins served in the missions of Cumaná (1657), the Andalusian Capuchins in the Llanos de Caracas (1658), the Catalan Capuchins in the mission of Guiana, and the Valencian Capuchins in the mission of Maracaibo (1691).486 After the Jesuits had managed to organize themselves in the form of the Province of New Granada in 1696, their work was greatly facilitated. The Jesuits began work in the Llanos de Casanare, but they hoped to found missions along the Meta River and extend their activities to Guiana in order to control traffic on the Orinoco and open up trade with Europe. Finally, after 1716 they managed to establish their missions on the Meta River and in the middle Orinoco region. Expansion farther east was prevented by an agreement in 1734 that limited their activities to west of the Cuchivero River. Even though the Jesuits received official military support as well as some financial backing, their mis-
sionary work in this region was financed largely by profits from their sugar estates and livestock enterprises. Unlike in Quito, cartographic activity in the territory of New Granada was from the very beginning of Spanish rule very dynamic. From very early on, the specific organization of the province as a captaincy general stimulated mapping activities for military purposes. Because of the intertwining of the territorial expectations of the Spanish and Portuguese colonial authorities and the interests of English traders trading along the coast and of the French and Dutch colonial authorities operating in the adjacent Guianas, French and Dutch, the Atlantic coast of New Granada was mapped not only by the Spanish authorities but also by English, Dutch, French, and Portuguese cartographers. At the same time, the mouth of the Orinoco River, which, because of the impassability of the Llanos, was the main entrance to terra firma, especially attracted the attention of researchers and cartographers. Also, this area was characterized by a very intensive exchange of knowledge. Onsite information sharing was rarely legal; cartographers sought to obtain maps and geographical information mostly through illegal channels such as espionage, theft, and piracy. Vivid testimony of this is the map of the Atlantic coast of New Granada and Guiana showing the lower course of the Orinoco. Produced around 1617 and created by compiling Spanish, English, and French data, this map was found in the estate of Sir Walter Raleigh, who conducted an expedition in this area from 1616 to 1618 in search of the mythical El Dorado.487 The Spanish colonial authorities also mapped this The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 9 8. Venezuela ende het Westelyckste gedeelte van Nueva Andalusia, by Joannes de Laet (Leiden, 1625), one of the early maps of New Granada showing the Orinoco River. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
region intensively for military purposes, particularly the area of their most important port of Cartagena (mapped from at least 1571 onward), as well as the part of the coast between the bay of Maracaibo and the Orinoco, that is, the forts of the Guianas, which at the time were, militarily and commercially, the most vital parts of New Granada.488 These maps had a major influence on European commercial cartography, so, apart from the maps of the coastline, the first regional maps of New Granada with a view of the interior appeared as early as the beginning of the seventeenth century 246
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(fig. 98).489 When the economic potential of the Orinoco River began to be recognized at the beginning of the seventeenth century, its basic contours were already known (Samuel Fritz showed them on his map of Quito). A map of the entire course (so far as it was known at the time) of the Orinoco River appears as early as 1707.490 At this time missionaries of various denominations, predominantly the Capuchins and Jesuits, were coming to the Orinoco hinterland, and they made significant contributions to the mapping of the interior. Their mutual influence and exchange of knowl-
edge are also reflected in both Capuchin and Jesuit maps of the province,491 as well as in maps produced by official cartographers of the Spanish colonial authorities. Because of its specific geopolitical position, where the Orinoco River represented a watercourse border, the Jesuit cartography of New Granada was strongly subordinated to military needs for defense of the territorial integrity of this part of the Spanish possessions. That can be seen in the oldest known Jesuit map of the Orinoco River, compiled in 1719– 20. Two Jesuit missionaries, Juan Capuel and Juan José Romero (1683– 1741),492 were ordered by the viceroy of New Granada, Antonio de la Pedrosa y Guerrero, to survey the lower Orinoco River at a time when the area’s defense, fortification, and demarcation with Guiana became a pressing issue. They compiled a report and attached to it a map drawn by Capuel.493 The map, which presents the lower Orinoco River and its confluence with the Caroní River, is actually a military map. The presentation of the island of Fajardo with the recommended fortress dominates the riverscape, demonstrating its proximity to the adjacent missions and the important settlements of Guiana. Taking the role of a military engineer, Capuel revealed in his report as well as in his map the active role the Jesuits played in the conquest of the Orinoco. Capuel listed nine points to justify a fortification located near the confluence of the Caroní and Orinoco Rivers. Although the fort was never completed, the decrees that followed Capuel’s survey ordered the defense and missionization of the Orinoco River region.494 The defensive needs not only of the
territory but also of its lucrative economic resources determined the further course of Jesuit mapping in this region as well. José Gumilla, the most famous Jesuit cartographer of New Granada, arrived in this area in 1715.495 He was a Spanish-born Jesuit who served as a missionary in the Orinoco River region for almost thirty years. During his first assignment to the region in 1715– 38, Gumilla extensively explored and mapped the Orinoco River and its tributaries. From this Gumilla produced an unknown number of manuscript maps (most of them are not preserved). His 1732 map of the Orinoco River presents the early state of knowledge of the river’s course (see again fig. 10). At that stage he was more concerned with the northern tributaries of the Orinoco, the Meta and Casanare Rivers, where the first Jesuit mission in the Llanos emerged as early as the seventeenth century.496 Based on Capuel’s map, Gumilla’s sketch further elaborated the issue of the defense line on the confluence of the Caroní and the Orinoco.497 His map and arguments about the importance of fortifying the region were taken very seriously. Gumilla’s map served as the basis of another map of the region that was prepared by the Spanish royal engineer Pablo Díaz Fajardo in 1733 (fig. 99).498 As a result of his explorations, Gumilla wrote an extensive narrative on the Orinoco region, accompanied by at least one map. In his writing, he did not elaborate on the surveying methods he used in the field, but he was acquainted with the cartographic achievements of his predecessors and contemporaries. Discussing the course of the Orinoco River, he referred to the maps by Samuel Fritz, Willem and The Viceroyalty of Peru
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Figur e 9 9. Map of the Orinoco compiled by the Spanish engineer Pablo Díaz Fajardo in 1733. The map was heavily influenced by José Gumilla’s mapping of the river, so he kept the IHS symbol in the map title. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
Joan Blaeu, and Nicolas de Fer. He probably used their maps as a template, which he supplemented with his own findings. It is not clear whether he undertook any astronomical observations, but he was familiar with the latitude and longitude of important places in his region. To support his narrative he often mentioned reports of other missionaries (including those of other denominations). Upon his return to Europe, Gumilla 248
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published his manuscript. The aim of the book, titled El Orinoco ilustrado (Madrid, 1741), was to defend the economic and political interests of the Jesuits in New Granada.499 Although it tends to be just a natural history of the region, dealing mainly with plants, animals, and minerals, a closer inspection reveals the true nature of the book. Taken as a whole, El Orinoco ilustrado considers not only the human and natural resources of the region, but also the future
F igur e 10 0. Map of the Jesuit Province of New Granada with the Orinoco River as its defensive and commercial backbone. The map was prepared by José Gumilla and attached to his narrative El Orinoco ilustrado (Madrid, 1741). (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
possibilities of New Granada.500 All natural resources are examined from the aspect of their economic utility. In that sense, El Orinoco ilustrado promotes both Jesuit and Spanish authorities as essential to securing the commercial development of the region. To supplement his writings, he attached a map of the province, whose aim was to emphasize the real potential of a river still enshrouded in myths such as that of El Dorado, and to position the Orinoco as a gateway to colonization, commerce, and conversions (fig. 100).501 Although it is not known whether the map was compiled during his stay in New Granada, or
whether it was the result of his later work in Europe, it clearly reflects all his geographical knowledge of the region. Gumilla’s map focuses entirely on the Orinoco River and its tributaries. Showing the region between 295– 325° east longitude (east of Ferro) and 15° north– 5° south latitude, Gumilla presents the part of New Granada where Jesuits played the main role in the establishment and maintenance of colonial rule. Unfortunately, Gumilla’s map repeats a misconception still accepted by most geographers of that time: the separation of the Orinoco and Amazon rivers and the existence of a mythical Lake Parime. These errors became The Viceroyalty of Peru
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a major point of criticism of Gumilla’s map. According to Gilii, Gumilla was familiar with the existence of the Casiquiare, a main channel connecting the Orinoco and the Río Negro.502 Apparently, Gumilla later drafted an appendix to his map to correct this mistake, but it was not included in the revised second edition of his book (Madrid, 1745). The second major error on Gumilla’s map further underscores the separation of the Orinoco from the Amazon River. A chain of mountains from the Andes to the sea creates a fictional border between a civilized region labeled “Jesuit missions” and the barbarous unknown nations (naciones no conocidas). Although the same error can be seen on earlier European maps (e.g., by Joan Blaeu), Gumilla’s geographical error clearly divided the Jesuit Province of New Granada from the Portuguese possessions in the south, both literally and symbolically.503 In regard to human geography, Gumilla’s map was strongly influenced by the historical context in which it originated. In 1739 Spain and England broke the Treaty of Utrecht. This marked the beginning of the War of Jenkins’ Ear, during which the coastline of New Granada was constantly threatened by English pirates. Although absent from the country at that moment, Gumilla felt it personally when English troops entered the Orinoco River and burned Santo Tomé de Guiana, where he had served as chaplain. Apart from English troops marching along the Orinoco River, interior attacks by Dutch, Carib, and Portuguese slave raiders posed an additional threat. Last but not least, the Jesuits had to compete with several other religious orders that served 250
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under the Spanish crown. Gumilla’s decision to include not only the Jesuit missions but also the missions of other orders in the region was inspired by the jurisdictional conflict between the Jesuits, Capuchins, and Franciscans that culminated in 1740 with the Jesuit claim on Cabruta, a crucial defensive site along the Orinoco River.504 These constant threats influenced Gumilla’s discourse when compiling his map. Defensive needs for the Orinoco region because of the war with England and encroachment on Jesuit territories by the Capuchins and Franciscans made Gumilla’s map a source of defense plans for the Orinoco River region.505 The explanation key illustrates his vision of the space: royal military forts were shown by a six-pointed star, cities with Jesuit colleges by the IHS symbol, Jesuit missions by a circle with a cross, while sites of martyrdom are marked by small crosses. Although he noted the missions of other orders (Capuchin and Franciscan), these were not marked with a cross or any other symbol or place-name; instead, they were labeled only textually (Missiones de los PP Capuchinos Catalanes, Missiones de los PP Capuchinos Aragones, Missiones de los PP Observantes). The icons, such as churches and crosses, that Gumilla used to mark the Jesuit facilities and Jesuit facilities alone send a clear message to the reader: other orders could be present in the province, but only the Jesuits represent a true force that connects the conquest of political space and ecclesiastical missions. By inscribing successful reductions and cities with Jesuit colleges, Gumilla presents the Society of Jesus as the central power in civilizing the frontiers. On the other hand, the extensive
chain of missions and their estates established along the Orinoco River that dominated the regional economy and surveilled the main watercourse celebrate the Jesuit role in the development of the socioeconomic life of the region and reveal the connection between commerce and Catholicism during the Hispanic Enlightenment in the first half of the seventeenth century. With his map, Gumilla convinces the reader of the commercial potential of the Orinoco River region for the benefit of both the colonial state and private stock companies that oversaw trade and commerce between the region and Spain.506 Gumilla’s map is therefore not limited to defense issues. It is also a demonstration of economic strategy, which makes this map an important key to understanding the modernity of Bourbon Spain. Although it contained a number of errors with regard to the mathematical basis and the geographical data, Gumilla’s map of New Granada immediately was met with enthusiasm by the European public as the first authoritative map of the area. Many distinguished cartographers and writers, such as Charles Maria de La Condamine, Antonio de Ulloa, Carolo Brentano, and Alexander von Humboldt, heavily relied upon Gumilla’s map. The influence of his map was additionally fueled by the wide dissemination of his book. The first edition in 1741 was followed by a second in 1745 (this time retitled El Orinoco ilustrado y defendido), then by a French one (1758).507 Continuing interest in his work in the post-suppression period was confirmed by a third Spanish edition (Barcelona, 1791). The map, together with his narratives, should have con-
tributed to his statement that the Orinoco River represented the most effective route of colonial, economic, and evangelical control over New Granada, even after the suppression of the Jesuit order. The publication of Gumilla’s book deeply affected Spain’s vision of colonial politics in regard to the Orinoco River region. After 1741 the Spanish authorities encouraged further exploration of the Orinoco and its tributaries. Applied to missionary strategy, this change soon resulted in one of the most important discoveries in Spanish America in the eighteenth century: the Casiquiare, a natural canal between the Orinoco and Amazon River systems. Discovered in 1744 by the Spanish Jesuit Manuel Román,508 who heard of it from Portuguese missionaries, the Casiquiare canal instantly attracted the attention of both the Spanish and the Portuguese. That great geographical discovery had huge political and commercial implications. The canal was a natural connection not only between the two river basins, but also between the two empires: the Río Negro was held by the Portuguese, and the Orinoco was held by the Spaniards. As the shortest connection between them, the Casiquiare canal became a new sore spot of Luso-Hispanic relations. Aware of the importance of his discovery, Román made a map of the region that showed the bifurcation of the two great rivers. Although there is considerable evidence that the map existed, today it is considered lost.509 Román’s map is not the only important Jesuit map of this region that was not accorded the fame it deserved. Another Jesuit map of New Granada, which remained The Viceroyalty of Peru
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unpublished and almost forgotten, was the one by the Spanish Jesuit Bernardo Rotella.510 Based on a field survey and completed in 1747, this map presented new findings in regard to the tributaries of the Orinoco. The map is not signed, but it is attributed to Rotella, who attached it to his report written on April 1, 1747, in Caicara (plate 31).511 Today almost unknown, Father Bernardo Rotella, a Jesuit of New Granada, was an important protagonist in the revalorization of the Orinoco in the mid-eighteenth century, especially after Gumilla had left for Europe. His fascinating map extends from the Río Magdalena in the north to the Amazon River in the south, showing the course of the Orinoco and its tributaries as well as the entire region of the Guianas. There is no graticule of latitude and longitude, and it is oriented with south at the top. Although we do not know whether Rotella’s map is, in fact, a lost copy of Manuel Román’s map or an original work by Rotella, it synthesizes the achievements of these two Jesuit explorers.512 It would not be surprising if the two missionaries exchanged experiences and knowledge, as a result of their many years in the Orinoco River region, and agreed to put them on paper. Román provided information on the upper Orinoco, the Río Negro, and the Casiquiare. Information corresponding to the Llanos de Casanare and the Meta River, and even to Santa Fe, could have come from the documentary and cartographic sources of the Society. Rotella, for his part, covered the region of Lake Parime, the source of the Orinoco and the Mazaruni, Cuyuni, and Essequibo Rivers, as well as the tributaries of the Amazon, from the Río Negro to the 252
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mouth of the former at the Atlantic Ocean. Much of the information that was collected and presented on Rotella’s map came from the local nations as well.513 Although Rotella’s map was focused on the presentation of physical geography, for the Spanish (and Portuguese) authorities, it had strong political and economic implications. The findings of Manuel Román and Bernardo Rotella soon reached European scholars. The reverberations of their reports and maps were enormous and long-lasting. Only seven months upon the discovery of the Casiquiare, Charles Marie de La Condamine received an account of Father Román’s voyage. Having thus confirmed the existence of this waterway, he included it in his map of the Amazon (Paris, 1745). The news spread fast, and that information was soon copied on numerous other maps published in Europe. A crucial role in the dissemination of these exploration results was played by d’Anville’s Carte de l’Amérique méridionale (Paris, 1748), which included the latest findings on the Orinoco as well as on its connection with the Río Negro and Amazon River. After his return to New Granada in 1743, Gumilla continued his exploration of the Orinoco, this time accompanied by an Italian Jesuit missionary, Filippo Salvatore Gilii.514 Gilii, who arrived in 1743, showed huge potential because of his unique linguistic abilities. In 1743 he traveled with the already famous José Gumilla, who fascinated the young father with his knowledge and passion for exploration. After this fateful encounter, Gilii soon became a missionary in the middle Orinoco River region himself, where he began his own explora-
tions. He founded and managed the frontier mission of San Luis Gonzaga de la Encaramada and dedicated his estates mainly to the cultivation of crops such as maize and yucca. Inspired by Gumilla’s work, Gilii also conducted numerous field trips, observing the region and its natural and human resources. Gilii’s campaigns along the Orinoco River were the last intensive Jesuit exploration of this region. The fourteenyear-long process of demarcation of the Spanish territory, which started in 1750, was conducted without direct involvement of the Spanish Jesuits of New Granada. Although the boundary commission benefited greatly from Ramón’s and Rotella’s maps, as well as from Jesuit information in general, the Jesuits were not directly involved in the demarcation process. Long before their formal expulsion, a growing distrust of the Jesuits, boosted by damaging reports of members of the boundary commission, eliminated them as possible partners on issues such as the territorial integrity of the Spanish crown or official mapmaking.515 The suppression of the order, followed by the expulsion of its members in 1767, formally ended the Jesuit missionary and exploration endeavors in New Granada.516 Gilii was the most prominent of the postexpulsion Jesuits who continued their work in Europe. At first affiliated with various Jesuit missions in Italy, upon the suppression of the order in 1773 Gilii moved to Rome, where he began writing his history of America. His position among the exiled Jesuits working in Italy was very specific. As a native Italian, Gilii was not a typical exiled Jesuit; after the suppression, he returned to
his home country. Gilii’s double profile as a Jesuit under Spanish control and a Jesuit of Italian origin shaped his unique ItaloHispanic cultural discourse.517 His intellectual circle included not only his fellow Italians but also many prominent Creole Jesuits who were working in Italian exile, such as Juan Ignacio Molina, Francisco Javier Clavijero, and Juan de Velasco. As a result of this intercultural exchange, his narrative Saggio di storia americana, published in four volumes in 1780– 84, did not fall into the trap of a Eurocentric vision of the New World. On the contrary, it was well received by both Italian and Spanish authorities, as well as by his Jesuit colleagues. The first three volumes intertwine colonial politics with detailed observations on biodiversity, climate, the environment, and indigenous lifeways; the fourth is devoted to the foundation of the viceroyalty and to the description of the Province of Tierra Firme. Gilii’s discourse on tropical nature addresses the relationships among Enlightenment natural science, geography, and colonial politics.518 At the same time, by recognizing the linguistic and cultural diversity of the indigenous populations, Gilii took a distinctive approach to the history of Jesuit accounts in South America. Like other Jesuits, Gilii accompanied his narrative with several maps. The first of them, compiled by Gilii himself and titled Carta del Fiume e Provincia dell’Orinoco Nell’ America Meridional, shows the region between the Amazon and Orinoco rivers (fig. 101).519 The cartographic elements of the map include the references of latitude and longitude (east of Ferro) and scale (in Spanish and French leagues). In The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 101. Map of the Orinoco region drafted by Filippo Salvatore Gilii for his narrative Saggio di storia americana. The map was attached to vol. 1 (Rome, 1780). (Biblioteca Nacional de España)
focusing his presentation exclusively on the Orinoco, and not on the entire Province of New Granada, Gilii followed Gumilla’s example. Moving away from the representation of the entire Spanish colonial province and focusing only on the Orinoco region, in which the Jesuits acted as the most effective tool of colonial power, Gilii indirectly joined Gumilla in the celebration of Jesuit accomplishments in the development of this region. Without mentioning the order by name, Gilii had discreetly placed the accomplishments of the Jesuits ahead of the power of the colonial state. Nevertheless, the exclusion of the 254
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parts of the province in which the Jesuits were not active is the only resemblance between the two maps by these two cartographers, one Spanish and working in the pre-expulsion period (Gumilla), the other Italian and working in Europe after the suppression of the order (Gilii). Their many differences in the presentation and perception of the space demonstrate not only the development of the cartographic knowledge of the region, but also the evolution of Jesuit thinking from the pre-expulsion to the post-suppression period. Unlike his mentor, Gilii’s does not give prominence to religious territoriality. Instead, he lo-
cates important features of the physical space that could further the development of the colonial economy, at the same time pushing the human geography into the background. Based on information from his narrative, we can conclude that Gilii conducted neither his own survey nor any kind of field measurements for his map. As he said, he relied heavily upon the work of “learned gentlemen” (eruditos señores), possibly referring to the cartographers from the boundary commission. Indeed, Gilii’s map shows no correlations with maps by his predecessors, primarily Gumilla and Rotella. Therefore, the observations by the boundary commissioners could have been a significant source for Gilii to establish the controversial source of the river at Lake Parime, the accuracy of the river’s course to the Atlantic, and the important connection with the Amazon through the Casiquiare and the Río Negro. Gilii also refers to some other sources in his narrative, most often to the book by the Franciscan missionary Antonio Caulin (Madrid, 1779),520 as well to the observations by Gumilla and La Condamine. Some influence from d’Anville’s Carte de l’Amérique méridionale can also be noticed. Gilii’s map did not include the numerous ethnonyms mentioned in his narrative. This is a reflection of a major change in discourse: the tropics were no longer seen as a dangerous place of savage tribes who needed to be civilized, but as a source of natural resources for the export economy and as a possible basis for the modernization of the empire. In accordance with postsuppression conventions, when designating the settlements Gilii noted only the main
Spanish cities and forts and some of the missions (with no mention of which order they were affiliated with). There is neither any trace of the former Jesuit presence in the region nor any sign of Jesuit iconography. Although Gilii in his narrative explicitly describes the merits of the Jesuits in the colonization and exploitation of the Orinoco River, when it comes to mentioning the Jesuit heritage on the map, we see, as in most Jesuit maps in the post-suppression period, a high degree of self-censorship. In his vision of the province, nature and its exploitation for the benefit of the Catholic Church and the Bourbon Empire were the imperial project he promoted. Gilii offered a missionary’s knowledge of the region that could help the Bourbons to attain a leading role in the formation of the new, modern economic order.521 Any contents unrelated to these economic goals were removed from the map (e.g., it includes neither the SpanishPortuguese boundary nor the missions along the Meta River, as they were considered economically irrelevant). Insisting on the empirical discourse of objectivity and truthfulness in his narrative, Gilii accompanied his narrative with two other maps, Carta geografica di Terra Ferme, elaborated by the French royal cartographer Rigobert Bonne and the Portuguese Jesuit Eusébio da Veiga,522 and Carta Corografica di tutto il Corso del Fiume Orinoco (fig. 102), prepared by the Spanish engineer Luis de Surville. Both maps highlighted the connection between the Orinoco and the Amazon.523 At the time of its publication, Gilii’s map certainly did not represent the last word in science when it came to the geography of the Orinoco River and its tributaries. That The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 102. Map of the Orinoco River and its connection with the Amazon, an excerpt from Luis de Surville’s Mapa corográfico de la Nueva Andalucía (Madrid, 1779). The map was attached to vol. 2 of Gilii’s narrative. (Courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library)
was not its purpose. Gilli, like most of the Jesuits in exile, referred primarily to empirical knowledge, because that is exactly what gave them an advantage over other European scientists: it was what could help them to reestablish their reputation and extricate themselves from the unenviable position they found themselves in after 1767. The inclusion of data from other scientists who had not personally visited New Grenada would be an abandonment of that prin-
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ciple. Yet, unlike many Jesuit cartographers in exile who, even after the suppression, relied primarily upon Jesuit sources, Gilii nevertheless made a concession. Aware that his knowledge of the Orinoco dated from before 1767, he also supplemented his book with Veiga’s and Surville’s maps, which relied upon the explorations that the Spanish Franciscans continued to carry out in that region.
3 Portuguese Possessions Brazil
T
he colonial history of Brazil started when the Portuguese explorer Pedro Álvares Cabral first sighted the Brazilian coast on April 22, 1500, and claimed it for the Portuguese Empire.1 Yet, after conquering the territory, the Portuguese continued to concentrate their efforts on their lucrative possessions in Africa and India, showing little interest in their new acquisition in South America. Brazil was treated as nothing more than a trading post and stopping place on the way to India. Though the first settlement was founded in 1532 (the royal colony of São Vicente), colonization effectively began in 1534, when King Dom João III of Portugal divided the territory into fifteen private and autonomous captaincies.2 Thus, colonial Brazil was based on a different territorial and social organization from that of the neighboring Spanish possessions, which were organized in several viceroyalties subordinate to the central government in Madrid. The Brazilian captaincies, usually awarded to nobility ( fidalgos da Casa Real), were hereditary grants of a large portion of royal jurisdiction over a specified territory and its inhabitants that were given to captains as private lordships (senhorios). Because the extent of Portuguese possessions in South America had already been defined by the Treaty of Tordesillas (1494), the Portuguese colony of Brazil was settled mainly in the coastal area. The captaincies were drawn as strips parallel to the equator, commencing at the Atlantic coast and terminating in the west at the Tordesillas Line.3 Such decentralized and unorganized captaincies soon proved to be problematic. Only ten of the captaincies were settled in the sixteenth century, and only two of them proved to be prof257
itable (Pernambuco prospered by growing sugarcane, and São Vicente by dealing in indigenous slaves). The failure of most of the captaincies led the king to make colonization a royal effort rather than a private one. Therefore, after private initiative had paved the way, the royal bureaucracy stepped in. To strengthen his royal power in the colony and enable better military control of the French and Dutch ships that were menacing the Brazilian coast, in 1549 the Portuguese king restructured the old captaincies into the Governorate General of Brazil, a single, centralized Portuguese colony in which each captaincy continued to exist as a privately owned provincial administrative unit.4 The appointment of Tomé de Sousa as the first governor general of Brazil was soon followed by the foundation of the capital city, Salvador da Bahia. In 1572 the governorate was split into two separate governorates: the Governorate General of Bahia in the north, which included Bahia (and Ilhéus, which was merged with Bahia) and all captaincies to the north, and the Governorate General of Rio de Janeiro in the south, which included all the captaincies south of Bahia (Ilhéus). Thereafter the governorates split and merged, shuffling captaincies among them. The authority of the governor general gradually diminished as in the last decades of the sixteenth and first half of the seventeenth century the Portuguese penetrated the interior of Brazil and expanded the colony at its northern and southern extremes, and as successive changes in the administrative structure of the colony were imposed from Lisbon.5 That especially came to the fore when the whole colony was divided in 258
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two in 1621, when King Philip II created the state of Brazil, administered by a viceroy with Salvador as the capital, and the state of Grão-Pará and Maranhão, with its capital in São Luís.6 As the Portuguese gradually expanded their control far beyond the Tordesillas Line, by 1709, in addition to the old Captaincies of Maranhão, Pernambuco, Bahia, and Rio de Janeiro, they also controlled a vast territory of the Amazon in the north (the state of Grão-Pará and Maranhão), Minas Gerais in the west,7 and the territory of Rio Grande do Sul in the south. The entire southern part of Brazil below the Bahia Captaincy comprised the Repartição Sul, which extended from Rio de Janeiro to the Colônia do Sacramento in the south and was ruled by the governor of Rio de Janeiro as governor general. Though this enlarged Brazilian territory was officially recognized by the Treaty of Madrid in 1750, the expansion led Brazil into numerous conflicts along its borders, which were disputed by the French, the English, the Dutch, and the Spanish. The economy of Brazil was based mostly on agricultural goods exploited for export to Europe. Tobacco, cotton, and brazilwood were significant, but it was the production of sugar, which depended on African slave labor, that was the most important product from the late sixteenth until the early eighteenth century. The first sugarcane plantations were established in the mid-sixteenth century and were crucial for the success of the Captaincies of São Vicente and Pernambuco; this achievement enabled sugarcane to spread quickly to other coastal areas in colonial Brazil. Only from the eighteenth century onward was income from lucrative
agricultural production supplemented by significant gold and diamond mining activities concentrated in the Brazilian inland region then known as Minas Gerais (prior to 1709 part of the Captaincy of São Vicente, later included in the Captaincy of São Paulo and Minas de Ouro). The successful establishment of Portuguese control over the vast Brazilian territory, whose total area exceeded that of Portugal itself by several times, was largely supported by the Jesuit order.8 In terms of their evangelical, educational, and cultural influence, the Society of Jesus had no other ecclesiastical rivals in Brazil until the 1750s.9 The first group of six Jesuits, including Father Manuel da Nóbrega, arrived in Brazil together with the governor general, Tomé de Sousa, in 1549. Even before they established the Jesuit Province of Brazil, on July 9, 1553, they started to organize their colleges. The first Jesuit college, which was established in Salvador da Bahia in 1550, was soon followed by colleges in São Paulo dos Campos de Piratininga (1553), in Rio de Janeiro (1568), and in Olinda in Pernambuco (1576). However, at first the number of Jesuits increased rather slowly. Up to 1600 no more than 160 Jesuits worked in Brazil, of whom only eighty-eight were fathers, the rest being brothers (coadjuntores) and students. Of that number, only seventeen worked in the nine missions of the Province of Brazil.10 In 1607 the Jesuits started to spread their missionary work to the Amazon by establishing the Vice Province of Maranhão. Yet, their activity there was stabilized only in 1653, when they founded their residence house in Belém. Up to 1747 they had managed to establish about
twenty-five missions in the Vice Province of Maranhão.11 In 1654 there were 162 missionaries in Brazil; in 1694 they were 310. by 1757, the total number of Jesuits in Brazil had increased to 476.12 The Jesuits, who were favored by the king, were the most active order in Brazil, gifted and highly influential early leaders in the evangelization of the territory. At first, they followed the methods of the Franciscans who always preferred to missionize the native nations in situ. The Jesuits soon discovered, however, that the natives they had converted quickly returned to their old customs. To hasten their Christianization, the Jesuits decided to remove them from their native villages and resettle them in aldeias (the Portuguese equivalent of Spanish reductions), whose large size was dictated by the scarcity of Jesuits available to serve as supervisors. Although the settlers never fully supported the Jesuit aldeias, which removed so many natives from the pool of potential slaves,13 the Jesuits, boosted by the king’s support and with the governor’s military arm at their disposal, soon developed numerous missions among the Tupi people. By 1582 a total of 34,000 natives were living in the Jesuit missions.14 Although most of the aldeias were situated in rural areas, some of them played an important role in the urban development of Brazilian cities: a Jesuit mission gave rise to the city of São Paulo; the Jesuits were crucial in the defeat of the French colonists of France Antarctique; and they took an active part in the founding of the city of Rio de Janeiro in 1565.15 The Society of Jesus proved enormously useful to the Portuguese crown in its effort to colonize and develop Brazil. In the conPortuguese Possessions: Brazil
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text of colonial policy of Portugal, Jesuit aldeamentos played a crucial role in the integration of the native population, the development of the economy, and the establishment of a civil society.16 Relying on the free labor of the native nations, the Jesuits managed to develop hugely productive agricultural endeavors, including cattle ranches and sugar and cotton plantations. Owing to the religious order’s privileged status, granted them by the pope, the Jesuits enjoyed complete autonomy from the crown and therefore circumvented royal controls on their earnings. As time went by, such privileges provoked animosity among the local landowners and government officials, who perceived the Jesuits as monopolizing labor and resources. Relations between the Jesuits and the royal authorities soured over the course of the 1750s, culminating in the order’s expulsion from the Portuguese Empire in 1759.17 Cartography was a particularly important tool in Portuguese overseas expansion. The Portuguese exploration and mapping of Brazil were developed with strong institutional support from Lisbon.18 From 1580 to 1640, when Portugal was under Spanish domination, Lisbon became a particularly significant center of cartography. Just as the Spanish crown had the Casa de Contratación, the Portuguese established the Casa da Índia for the same purpose. Operating from the early fifteenth century, the Casa da Índia cooperated with a separate body: the Armazém da Guiné e da Índias, which was in charge of all nautical matters, including charting and storage of maps (hydrographic depot). The master world map, known as the Carta padrão de 260
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el-Rei (the counterpart of the Spanish map called the Padrón Real), which served as a cartographic base for the discoveries, was produced there (no copy of it has been preserved). In 1547 the office of royal cosmographer was created; it was closely associated with the activities of the Armazém. This was also when the Portuguese cartography of Brazil started to flourish. The first cartographic representation of Brazil appeared in 1500, when Juan de la Cosa’s planisphere noted the existence of Brazil’s Atlantic coast. A planisphere by Alberto Cantino (1502) marked not only the contour of the Brazilian coast but also the mouth of the Amazon River. The first significant step forward by the Portuguese was a chart from 1519 attributed to Jorge Reinel. It was the first to plot the coastline from the Isthmus of Panama down to the Río de la Plata. The first single map of Brazil, produced by Gaspar Viegas in 1534, is based upon firsthand knowledge recorded during the 1530– 33 expedition of Martim Alfonso de Sousa, which explored the region from the Amazon delta to the mouth of the Río de la Plata. The map is a good reflection of royal initiative in the exploration and mapping of their new overseas territory. It was these early maps, which identified the main features of the coast and some specific inland areas, that enabled European cartographers to include Brazil in their cosmographies, among them Oronce Finé (Nova et integra universi orbis descriptio, 1531), Sebastian Munster (Typus cosmographicus universalis, 1532), Giacomo Gastaldi (Brasil, 1556), and Girolamo Ruscelli (Brasil nuova tavola, 1574), changing the vision of the world established so long ago by Ptolemy. These
Pl ate 25. Map of the eastern part of the Province of Paraguay, a theater of the ongoing Guaraní War. Compiled by Tadeáš Xaver Enis about 1756, the map shows the influence of military mapping. (Archivo Histórico Nacional, Madrid)
Pl ate 2 6. A possible original of Tadeáš Xaver Enis’s map of the disputed Guaraní area. The map is not signed or dated, but it is surely the result of Jesuit work. (Courtesy of Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps)
Pl ate 27. Historic map showing the province of Paraguay in 1766 with different colors marking its governorates, compiled by José Cardiel about 1771. (Agencia Española de Cooperación Internacional para el Desarrollo)
Pl ate 2 8. Carolo Brentano’s monumental map of the Province of Quito, published by the renowned publisher Giovanni Petroschi in Rome in 1751. (Courtesy of Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps)
Pl ate 29. Map of Quito prepared by the Spanish military engineer Francisco Requena y Herrera in 1779. The map still reflects the influence of Jesuit mapmaking by Samuel Fritz, Jean Magnin, and Carolo Brentano. (Biblioteca Nacional del Ecuador “Eugenio Espejo”)
Pl ate 30. Juan de Velasco’s manuscript map of Quito, prepared in 1789 to accompany his book Historia del Reino de Quito. (Biblioteca Ecuatoriana Aurelio Espinosa Pólit, Quito)
Pl ate 31. Map of the Orinoco and its connection with the Amazon via the Casiquiare canal drafted by Bernardo Rotella in 1747. It is highly probable that Manuel Román was a coauthor of the map. (Archivo del Museo Naval, Madrid)
Pl ate 33. Map of the route that Diogo Soares took during his reconnaissance of the Santa Catarina region in 1737. (Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, Lisbon)
Pl ate 32 . Four sheets of the map of Minas Gerais attributed to Domenico Capacci and Diogo Soares and dated 1734– 35. (Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, Lisbon)
Pl ate 34. Sheet 9 of Diogo Soares’s map shows the region south of Rio de Janeiro. (Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, Lisbon)
Pl ate 35. Sheet 6 of Diogo Soares’s map presents the coastline around the island of Santa Catarina. (Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, Lisbon)
Pl ate 36. Sheet 5 of Diogo Soares’s map of the southern coast of Brazil, compiled about 1738. (Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, Lisbon)
Pl ate 37. Portuguese copy of the Mapa das Cortes of 1749. The map was produced in Lisbon under the direction of Alexandre de Gusmão. It largely relied on Jesuit sources as well on Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville’s map, which was itself based on Jesuit knowledge. (Biblioteca Nacional do Brasil)
Pl ate s 38a & 38b. Hydrographic map of the Amazon and Río Negro based upon Ignatius Szentmártonyi’s survey, prepared in 1755, sheets 1– 2 and 3– 4. This is a copy of an original map made in 1862 for military purposes. (Arquivo Histórico do Exército, Rio de Janeiro)
Pl ate 39. Map of Huronia attributed to Jérôme Lalemant. To judge from the missions depicted, the map was compiled between 1639 and 1648. (Bibliothèque nationale de France)
Pl ate 40. Map of Huronia attributed to Jean de Brébeuf. The map was drawn between 1639 and 1648, with slight revisions made after 1650. (Library of Congress)
Pl ate 41. Map of New France compiled about 1641 and based on multiple Jesuit sources. It is the earliest known map of the Great Lakes region and includes many names of the local nations. (National Archives, Kew, UK)
Pl ate 42 . Original autograph map of Mississippi River drafted by Jacques Marquette in 1673. (Archives des jésuites au Canada)
Pl ate 43. Redaction of Jacques Marquette’s 1673 map, compiled about 1680 and known today as Manitoumie I. This copy served as the template for the first printed edition of Marquette’s map, published in 1681. (Bibliothèque nationale de France)
Pl ate 4 4. Pierre Raffeix’s map of the Upper Mississippi and the Great Lakes region, drafted about 1683. (Bibliothèque nationale de France)
P l ate 45. Map of Lake Ontario with a detailed presentation of the Iroquois country, drafted by Pierre Raffeix in 1688. (Bibliothèque nationale de France)
P l ate 46. Map of the Saguenay River, a major trade route connecting the Saint Lawrence River with the interior of northern Quebec. The map was compiled by PierreMichel Laure in 1731. (Bibliothèque nationale de France)
Pl ate 47. Map of Canada compiled by Pierre-Michel Laure in 1731; -names are noted in the Montagnais language. (Bibliothèque nationale de France)
European maps abhorred empty spaces, so their authors sometimes filled the empty interior with fantastic pictures, spreading imagined stereotypes (e.g., about cannibalism) and a fear of the unknown, and mixing an imagined geography with a real one.19 Among the early cartographers of Brazil who contributed to the development of cartography based upon firsthand knowledge, Luís Teixeira, cosmographer of the Royal Majesty, was the most important. He is known as the author of the first atlas of Brazil (ca. 1586), which includes eleven local maps of the Brazilian coast.20 His map of the hereditary captaincies of Brazil (1574), which was included in the atlas, represents the oldest image of the territorial division of colonial Brazil (fig. 103). Teixeira’s maps had a profound impact on European cartography, serving as the main template for commercial cartographers and publishers such as Abraham Ortelius. The competition between Spain, Portugal, France, and the Low Countries during the first decades of the seventeenth century for supremacy over the region somewhat accelerated its mapping, particularly after the Dutch invaded Pernambuco (1630– 54) and started producing their own highquality maps of certain provinces of Brazil. The Dutch West India Company (WIC), established in 1621, opened their hydrographic office in Recife in 1630 and from there undertook numerous exploratory expeditions and hydrographic surveys.21 As a result of their own explorations, the Dutch gained considerable geographical knowledge, which enabled them to produce detailed charts and maps of Brazil.22 Of course, their maps also incorporated indig-
enous knowledge, some information from foreign maps (primarily Portuguese and English), and information acquired through espionage. The best synthesis reflecting the cumulative achievement of Dutch mapping of Brazil is reflected in the maps compiled by Georg Marcgrave and first published by Caspar Barlaeus in 1647 (fig. 104).23 When Dutch interest in Brazil began to wane, Joan Blaeu published the maps created for the WIC in his lavishly decorated atlases (cf. Blaeu’s series of maps of 1662). Blaeu’s widely known atlases contributed greatly to the dissemination of knowledge about Brazil and strongly influenced other European cartographers. This territorial conflict with the Dutch led Portuguese cartographers to produce maps of Brazil that from then on appeared in larger and larger numbers and gradually included more of the interior. The Teixeira family remained dominant in the cartography of Brazil until the mid-seventeenth century. Although Luís Teixeira can be recognized as one of the most important early cartographers of Brazil, his son, João Teixeira Albernaz I, was certainly the most productive. Continuing the work of his father, he completed the reconnaissance of the coast of Brazil and produced several atlases, with a total of 158 maps.24 By 1642 the Brazilian coastline was fully charted. The scale of the maps, indicated on each one, and the increased accuracy and quality of geographical information provided on João Teixeira Albernaz’s maps clearly demonstrate the progress made since his father’s time. His atlas (1640), which includes one general chart and thirty maps of the Brazilian provinces, provides the first comprehensive look Portuguese Possessions: Brazil
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F igur e 103. Facsimile of the famous map of the hereditary captaincies of Brazil with the demarcation line of the Treaty of Tordesillas, compiled by the royal cosmographer, Luís Teixeira, in 1574. The map was published in his atlas, dated about 1586. (Biblioteca da Ajuda, Lisbon)
F igur e 104. Map of Pernambuco published by Caspar Barlaeus (Amsterdam, 1647). (Courtesy of Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps)
at the Portuguese possession (fig. 105).25 A detailed presentation of the coast, with indications of depths, is accompanied by the geography of the interior, including principal rivers, settlements, forts, sugar plantations (indicated by mill icons), and missions (buildings with a cross). However, even in the second half of the seventeenth century, most of the mapping activities were limited to coastal areas; the mainland’s interior was still only vaguely known. When in the late seventeenth century
Portugal began to strongly expand its possession to the west, particularly in the area that was later to become the Captaincies of Minas Gerais, Goiás, and Mato Grosso, military cartography became increasingly important. To improve the security and control of such a large colony as Brazil, Portugal sent a number of engineers to produce the maps needed for administrative and military purposes. Nevertheless, the large and difficult-to-access areas of the interior that were inhabited by the local nations living in The Viceroyalty of Peru
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F igur e 105. Part of the Brazilian coast with the mouth of the Amazon on the map by João Teixeira Albernaz I, published in his 1640 atlas. (Arquivo Nacional da Torre do Tombo, http://www.brasil-turismo .com/maranhao/albernaz .htm)
the aldeias were primarily left to be mapped by Jesuit cartographers. 3.1 The Jesuit Mapping of Brazil: Cartography of the Edges of the Empire
Most of the Portuguese Jesuit missions were situated on the southern and northern peripheries of Brazil, the regions that also represented the Brazilian borderland toward the neighboring Spanish and French territories. Because the territorial expansion of the Portuguese Empire in Brazil created constant border issues with neighboring countries, Jesuit mapmaking was strongly supported by the Portuguese court as an effective tool for proving their territorial 264
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claims and for solving their border disputes, particularly those with Spain in the area of the Río Negro, and with France in French Guiana, in the Amazon estuary. Over time, the Portuguese Jesuits proved to be so efficient in mapping their mission areas and claiming the territory for the crown that the authorities sent them to map the areas beyond their immediate jurisdiction as well. The Portuguese Jesuits thus not only produced maps of their provinces in the border areas of the empire, but also participated in the mapping of captaincies, military fortifications, and demarcation lines. Their maps were therefore often more characteristic of military than missionary cartography. Other distinctive features of Portuguese Jesuit cartography stemmed from the fact
that some of the Jesuit cartographers were not primarily missionaries but rather academic cartographers, with the status of royal mathematicians (padres matemáticos). Their maps did not appear spontaneously as a result of missionary needs but on the basis of the orders of the royal authorities in order to claim the territory, solve border disputes, and define demarcation lines along the northern, southern, and western edges of the colony. The definition of Brazil’s boundaries was increasingly recognized as a geographical issue, and cartography as an important tool that could confirm Portuguese claims,26 particularly with reference to the calculation of the exact position of the Tordesillas Line, the subject of many speculations and abuses from both the Spanish and the Portuguese sides. The Portuguese king recognized this problem, which is why he decided to send Jesuit mathematicians to Brazil, in hopes that their expertise would enable them to fix the exact boundaries of the Portuguese territory. Among the most important triggers for Jesuit cartographic activities in Brazil were the Treaty of Utrecht (1713), the Spanish-Portuguese War (1735– 37), and the Treaty of Madrid (1750). 3.1.1 Claiming the Amazon and Setting the Northern Brazilian Border with French Guiana
Portuguese territorial claims to the Amazon region started with the Act of Possession of Pedro Teixeira of 1639. Teixeira, the first commander of the Amazonian captaincies, used it to contest the provisions of the Treaty of Tordesillas by claiming the
whole territory east of the Napo River in the name of the Portuguese crown. Based on the Treaty of Tordesillas of 1494 and the strength of the Francisco de Orellana expedition, the Spaniards still considered the whole Amazon their possession. Over the course of the seventeenth century, this territorial dispute would be of more consequence to the Spanish than to the Portuguese side (see section 2.2.5 on Quito). The Portuguese crown successfully incorporated the entire claimed portion of the Amazon into its colonial kingdom by dividing it, in 1621, into three captaincies: Grão Pará, Maranhão, and Ceará. In terms of missionization, back in the 1690s the crown had divided the Amazon among four religious orders. The Jesuit territory was restricted to the south bank of the Amazon River and its southern tributaries all the way to the Madeira River. The northern side of the Amazon, including Marajó Island and Cabo Norte, was assigned to the Franciscans. The Mercedarians were confined to a relatively small area on the Urubú River and around Saracá, while the Carmelites, owing to a shortage of Jesuit personnel, received the vast areas of the Rio Negro and the Rio Solimões. This solid territorial organization, with a dense network of missions backed by military fortifications, provided relatively good control over the occupied area, despite constant contestation by the Spaniards. This also affected Portuguese territorial disputes with the Dutch. Dutch attempts at claiming the Amazon were successfully crushed by Pedro Teixeira, who obliterated all Dutch settlements erected on land claimed by Portugal.27 However, the dispute with Spain and the Low CounThe Jesuit Mapping of Brazil
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tries was not the only territorial issue that the Portuguese crown had to handle. For the Portuguese side, the biggest trigger of Jesuit cartographic activities in the seventeenth century came from their conflict with France.28 In spite of a profusion of Dutch, Spanish, Portuguese, and English settlements along the coast north of the Amazon, in 1605 Henry IV of France proclaimed his right to the vast territory between the Orinoco and the Amazon estuary. After they managed to push the French away from the estuary, the Portuguese extended their control over the area north of the mouth of the river, establishing the Captaincy of Cabo Norte in 1637. However, because French claims to Guiana were recognized by the Low Countries and England under the Treaty of Breda (1667), Guiana soon became a territory under the direct control of the French crown, setting Portugal at a disadvantage. The long-lasting conflict over Cabo Norte triggered the Portuguese Jesuits’ first large cartographic campaign. To resolve the territorial dispute with France, the Portuguese authorities engaged the services of the Jesuit Alois Konrad Ludwig Pfeil.29 Known for his practical skills, Pfeil was not just a regular missionary; he was also a builder and, in his own words, a kind of “architect” for the founding of mission villages and the construction of fortifications.30 Moreover, he had a strong interest in natural sciences and field observations.31 Serving as a missionary in the Province of Maranhão, he had become familiar with the topography of the terrain in the north, as well as with the Portuguese territorial dispute over French Guiana. Because the 266
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Portuguese considered cartography a key science in gaining power over the disputed territory, Pfeil was sent to examine and map the disputed region. Between 1681 and 1700 he carried out intensive cartographic activity in this region, based on which several maps and writings appeared. Regarding the pending border issue, as early as 1681 he compiled his first writing, which included his observations and surveys on the exact extent of the Portuguese possessions in the north.32 This report was soon followed by a map, compiled in 1684, that showed the entire Vice Province of Maranhão and marked the BrazilianGuiana borderline. Drawn on the order of King Pedro II of Portugal, and Father Antônio Vieira, the map was intended to resolve the territorial dispute and permit the final demarcation of the border. Unfortunately, the map seems not to have been preserved.33 Pfeil’s cartographic work was briefly interrupted in 1684: during the rebellion against the Jesuits, he and the superior, Jodocus Perret, were temporarily expelled from the mission, captured, and then attacked by pirates, who stole Pfeil’s surveying equipment. Although the loss of the instruments undoubtedly hampered his cartographic work, by 1685 he had managed to compile another map of the Maranhão missions. His map was sent from Brazil to Perret, who was in Coimbra. Unfortunately, this map is also considered lost. In 1700 Pfeil compiled his final report for the king. To judge from its title, it was a compendium of information that made extremely substantive arguments, citing a plethora of evidence, that the northern captaincy, situated at the mouth of the Amazon, right-
fully belonged to the crown of Portugal.34 Yet, despite Pfeil’s unequivocal finding, the Provisional Treaty (Tradato Provisional) between France and Portugal was signed on March 4, 1700, annulling Portugal’s rights to this region.35 According to the treaty, all the Portuguese forts from Cabo Norte to the Rio Oyapock (Oiapoque) or Rio de Vicente Pinzón had to be abandoned and demolished. Although the treaty was violated with Portugal’s entry into the War of the Spanish Succession, in January 1701 Pfeil received an urgent message from Father Sebastiào de Magalhães, his colleague and confessor, in which the latter conveyed the king’s request to “take all the documents and maps you have and come to Lisbon immediately to explain yours findings.”36 However, on his way from Brazil to Portugal, Pfeil died in a shipwreck near the Azores, and all the documents he carried with him were lost. This unfortunate event is probably why none of Pfeil’s cartographic achievements are preserved today. Nonetheless, his two highly respected reports (of 1681 and 1700), which reached Lisbon safely, were in use for a long time; they documented the position of the northern border of Brazil and served as an important aid to Portuguese foreign policy.37 3.1.2 Mapping the Western Edge of the Empire: The Jesuit View of Minas Gerais
The next documented cartographic enterprise undertaken by a member of the Jesuit order in Brazil refers to the map of Brazil created by Jacques Coclé, a Jesuit of French origin.38 Upon his arrival in Brazil in 1660,
he studied mathematics at the Jesuit college of Bahia, and he subsequently served as a missionary there for fifty years. He compiled a large map of Brazil at a scale of approximately 1:1,480,000 (fig. 106). Coclé’s autograph is considered lost, but one copy based on the original is preserved.39 The authenticity of the copy is confirmed in the explict statement in the title of the map (extraído do original do P e. Cocleo). The map is undated, but according to extensive research by Valquiria Ferreira da Silva, Coclé’s autograph was finalized in 1697.40 Additional confirmation of the dating of the original map comes from a 1704 letter by Rodrigo da Costa, the governor of Bahia from 1702 to 1708, in which he mentions that his predecessor, Dom João de Lencastre (1690– 1702), “has this map.”41 However, the copy that we have today is updated with certain information from up to 1750, which has confused many researchers and led them to different datings. After the appearance of the original map, it was probably in use in the Bahia college, where over time it was supplemented with new data, mostly those related to the mining activity triggered by the gold rush of the late 1690s in the state of Minas Gerais. That is why some data from Coclé’s map extends to the first half of the eighteenth century. The map appeared in a specific historical context and clearly reflects the Portuguese efforts to expand their territory. Driven by the huge economic potential of the interior, the Portuguese were rapidly extending their possessions westward and eventually reached the western limit of the Treaty of Tordesillas, situated approximately along the forty-eighth meridThe Jesuit Mapping of Brazil
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F igur e 10 6. Copy of the original map drawn by Jacques Coclé in 1697. The map was compiled by order of the Portuguese crown to support its territorial claims to Brazil. (Arquivo Histórico do Exército, Rio de Janeiro, photograph by Paulo Schettino)
ian (west of Greenwich). To support their claims to the western part of the colony, it was necessary to increase Portugal’s knowledge of the geography of the newly acquired territory and define its western frontiers. Moreover, appropriate geographical information would ensure its economic development and settlement of the interior. According to Valquiria Ferreira da Silva, at the time of the appearance of the original map these efforts were related not to the discovery of the gold and the rush that followed, but to the occupation of the sertão (arid scrubland) for the purpose of cattle ranching, then the major economic activity of Minas Gerais. That is exactly why the map shows so many farms in such detail, as well as the major roads that connect them with the main export ports. Coclé was hired by the Portuguese 268
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crown to compile a map of the whole colony that was to show the territory the crown actually laid claim to. The map is a very successful synthesis of the geographical knowledge of Brazil and shows the approximate extent of the Portuguese territory as defined by the Treaty of Tordesillas (1494), from the island of São Luís do Maranhão and the Gurupí River in the north to Santa Catarina in the south. Yet, it is important to note that the map shows only the State of Brazil, without Grão Pará and Maranhão (that region is barely traced on the map). This rump presentation of the Portuguese territory in Brazil is a reflection of the Jesuits’ dispute with royal authorities on jurisdiction over the province (in contrast, Jesuits recognized the secular power of the king in the state of Brazil). Coclé’s map is drawn by hand and ac-
companied by a grid of latitude (1°– 30° south) and longitude (333°– 349° east), as well as linear scales given in French, Spanish, and Portuguese leagues. The map is oriented with west at the top, while north is on the right. The explanation key reveals the true nature of the map: settlements with cathedrals, with a church or chapel and fazendas (including aldeias) differentiated by symbols with or without a cross, testify to Coclé’s missionary approach to the human geography of space. It is also the only religious aspect of its iconography; the map does not contain any other symbols of the Catholic Church or the Jesuit order. The map is characterized by a large number of marked settlements, depictions of relief (mainly in coastal areas), a concisely drawn hydrographic network, roads (caminhos), fazendas (many of them designated with the owner’s name), and mining areas. Analysis of the positions of a large number of marked settlements shows a high degree of accuracy for the time. Such high precision in positioning the settlements on the map may have been possible because of observation of Jupiter’s satellites or with the use of ephemerides, which were already available by that time, in an improved version prepared by Cassini in 1690. If so, Coclé’s would be the first Brazilian map using this technique. This map is also unique in its mathematical basis: according to recent studies, it was computed based on the prime meridian of Cabo Verde, most probably the one that intersects Praia, its capital.42 On this map, which compiles all previous knowledge about the geography of Brazil, significant progress has been made
in the knowledge of the hinterland, which are presented with many little-known details. The map is particularly important in this regard because it was among the first to document the Portuguese penetration into the interior of Brazil, especially the Province of Minas Gerais. By emphasizing the western edge of Brazil with the basin of the São Francisco River, located centrally on the map, Coclé documented the early history of Minas Gerais, which soon became the most lucrative mining region in Brazil. This occupation followed two main directions: from north to south, along the São Francisco River, essentially agrarian (many farms are shown on the banks of the São Francisco River, thus documenting the process of agrarian occupation); and from São Paulo, initially used to capture the natives and later for gold mining. Because traffic communications played a crucial role in the economic exploitation of the interior, Coclé marked all the main routes (caminhos) with great attention (delineated by a dotted line). Such was the route he called Mestre de Campo Matias Cardoso, which led from São Paulo to the upper Rio São Francisco. Another reveals the new route for cattle (Caminho Novo do Gado), which followed the course of the Rio das Velhas, crossed the São Francisco River, and from there led to Goiás and Piauí. The next one, marked Caminho do João Glz. [Gonçalves] do Prado, went through the spine of the Serra do Espinhaço up to the Rio de Conta, whence it descended through the Paraguaçu River and connected with another route leading to Bahia (Caminho da Bahia). The main connection between Minas and Rio de Janeiro The Jesuit Mapping of Brazil
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is designated the Caminho do Garcia Roiz para as Minas. This famous route opened between 1698 and 1705 and enabled more effective connection between the southern coast and the interior, which thus surpassed the old Caminho Velho, via Paraty, and the Caminho de São Paulo.43 Besides the farms and traffic communication, Coclé (as well as his successors) recorded the mines near the headwaters of the Rio Paraopeba (Minas achadas em 1699), the mines near the Rio Gualachos designated as large mines founded in 1694 (Minas grandes achadas ano 1694), the Minas do Saberaboçu, and the mines near the Rio das Velhas and the Rio das Peste or Guarapiranga, where he inserted the annotation, “There is a lot of gold, but I also heard of the appearance of plague here” (Aqui a muito ouro, mas ouve muita peste). Latter updates accompanied the map with even more information on the mining activities in Minas Gerais. Although it shows the entire state of Brazil, Coclé’s map is clearly focused on the presentation of its western edge. By emphasizing the strong connection between the Brazilian coast and its hinterland, Coclé actually proves the Portuguese control and consequently its legal right to the territory taken by the crown. His orientation to the detailed presentation of the interior enabled diverse uses of Coclé’s map. Afterward the map was also used to solve the conflict between the Bishopric of Bahia and São Paulo over the interior lands. With the steady growth of the economic and geostrategic importance of the Captaincy of São Paulo and Minas de Ouro, a need merged for more detailed and precise 270
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maps for administrative and military purposes. However, military staff assigned to serve in the interior occupied themselves more with mining than with mapping. The first military map was ordered by a letter from the royal authorities in 1711, but without result.44 Only around 1717 did a military map finally appear, but it did not make a significant step forward in the presentation of the interior.45 With the discovery of new mines each year, the region, once it become an autonomous Captaincy of Minas Gerais in 1720, experienced rapid population growth. When diamonds were discovered in the first decades of the eighteenth century, Minas Gerais soon became the most populous section of the Portuguese territory in Brazil. This additionally urged the need for reliable maps of the region. Aware that the Jesuits were best acquainted with the latest technologies of mapping and determining longitude, especially after recently published works by Guillaume Delisle,46 the royal authorities once again invited them to make a reconnaissance of the terrain and produce correct maps of the entire captaincy. On November 18, 1729, King João V of Portugal issued an order in which he explained the purpose of his new undertaking: For the sake of my service and very convenient to the government and defense of the same State, good administration of justice, taxation of my fazendas, and to avoid the doubts and controversies that have arisen from the new discoveries, which it has been done in the interior of that State from a few years to this part, to make maps of the lands of the said State, not only of the coast, but
of the sertões, with all distinction, to better indicate and to know the districts of each bishopric, government, captaincy, comarca, and granted land, for this diligence I appointed two members of the Company of Jesus, experts in mathematics, who are Diogo Soares and Domingos Capassi, who I send on this occasion to Rio de Janeiro.47
It was the start of an ambitious project that was supposed to result in the New Atlas of Portuguese America (Novo Atlas da América Portuguesa), which would enable Portugal to collect more geographical information about their colony and ensure effective control over the territory it claimed.48 The two Jesuits assigned to the task, both of them designated padres matemáticos, were chosen for good reasons, as they had proved themselves capable scientists in Portugal. Domenico Capacci, also known as Domingos Capassi, attracted the attention of the king thanks to his innovative method of astronomical observation, which he successfully implemented in the survey of the country.49 Closely cooperating with his Jesuit colleague Giovanni Battista Carbone (1694– 1750), he managed to develop a new method of determining longitude. In 1723 Capacci and Carbone were appointed to conduct a new geographical survey of Portugal, working from the newly built observatory in the royal palace as well as from the Jesuit College of Santo Antão, where the Jesuits had already made many astronomical observations. As part of their work, they observed lunar eclipses and the satellites of Jupiter, using new methods of observation to establish the distance of Lisbon from the Paris me-
ridian. The other member of the pair, Diogo Soares, had also already established himself as a well-known scientist.50 This Portugueseborn Jesuit was educated at the prestigious University of Coimbra, the oldest academic institution in the Portuguese-speaking world. After finishing his studies, Soares taught mathematics at the Jesuit College of Santo Antão, where Capacci was conducting his astronomical observations. Soares and Capacci started their journey in 1729 and arrived in Brazil in January 1730.51 Their first step was to set up an astronomical observatory at the Jesuit college in Rio de Janeiro and determine the meridian of Rio de Janeiro using the Cassini tables. A precise determination of the Rio de Janeiro meridian was important for several reasons. The old delimitation between the Spanish and Portuguese possessions in South America was still based on a vaguely defined meridian “situated 370 leagues west of Cape Verde,” causing many disputes in the field. Both sides were taking advantage of the indeterminacy of the demarcation line between them: the Portuguese tried to push the delimitation toward the west, and the Spanish toward the east. Thus, King João V believed that a precise determination of the Rio de Janeiro meridian (in relation to the Paris meridian) would prove that the Portuguese had rights to more territory than had been assigned to it based upon previous measurements. The newly established meridian would also serve as a new starting point for the survey of Brazil, as well as a prime meridian according to which the future maps of Brazil would be compiled. The two Jesuits also carried out mapping activities in the field. For the purpose The Jesuit Mapping of Brazil
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of defending the city, they mapped six fortifications in the wider area of Rio de Janeiro that protected Guanabara Bay: the Fortaleza da Lage na Barra,52 the Fortaleza de Nostra Senhora da Conceição,53 the Fortaleza de São Sebastião,54 the Fortalezas de terra no morro de São João,55 the Forte de São Diogo,56 and the Forte de Villeganhon.57 These large-scale manuscript maps, accompanied by a scale and a simple title cartouche, were compiled with the aim of showing the structure of the existing fortifications. In 1732 Soares and Capacci compiled a series of three maps of the mining settlements of Minas Gerais: Sumidouro,58 São Sebastião,59 and São Caetano.60 These settlements arose from temporary encampments along the small waterways in which prospectors were searching for alluvial gold. The inner structure of the settlements, with their houses and plots, is represented from above, while the configuration of the terrain is shown from a semi-bird’s-eye view. The maps are beautifully colored and accompanied by title cartouches. Also in 1732 Soares and Capacci started to systematically map the whole Minas Gerais region. Based upon their own field survey and astronomical observations as well as on the information collected from experienced sertanistas (people from the hinterland [sertão]) before 1734– 35, they managed to compile a map of Minas Gerais consisting of four sheets, drawn at a scale of approximately 1:930,000 (plate 32). The maps, prepared using the Mercator projection and the Rio de Janeiro meridian, covered an area of about of 140,000 km2 (87,000 square miles). The sheets are not signed, titled, nor dated, but they are at272
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tributed to Capacci and Soares and dated to 1734 or 1735 based upon known data about their field trips. The reason for the absence of authors’ names, dates of the maps, and their original titles should be sought in the fact that the title cartouches on each sheet have been left empty— in other words, the maps are unfinished.61 The sheets show a large territory starting in the Zona da Mata in the south, passing through the Serra da Mantiqueira (a mining region now called the Iron Quadrangle), and continuing through the Serra do Espinhaço to Minas Novas and the Jequitinhonha River, upstream from the bar of the Araçuaí River. Situated between 16°30′ and 21°30′ south latitude, this region corresponds to a distance of about 550 km (342 miles) in the north– south direction.62 Strangely enough, although the map is based upon an original survey and astronomical observations, no graticule of longitude and latitude is marked on the sheets. Even the writings of Soares and Capacci, which include a list of the calculated positions of all the main settlements, state only their latitudes.63 Regarding the high level of accuracy of their maps, it is obvious that the fathers were familiar with the complete coordinates of the locations they mapped; however, longitude was evidently, even in their writings, treated as a state secret. The work compiled by Soares and Capacci represents the first topographic map of Minas Gerais. Although its authors were Jesuits, their knowledge of mathematics and astronomy enabled them to conduct a survey and compile a map that had all the features of a true military map. The mountains, the main axis of which is formed by
the Serra do Espinhaço, are represented by shaded hills. The hydrographic network is particularly detailed and presented with a high degree of precision. Wooded areas are marked by trees. When it comes to human geography, they noted practically all the settlements existing at the time with their toponymic identifications. Portuguese names prevail, to the detriment of indigenous nomenclature. Numerous routes are designated by dotted lines, testifying to intensive communications and trade between the interior and the coast. No borderlines are marked, either of the regions or of the bishoprics. The absence of symbols of either the Jesuit order or the Catholic Church leaves no doubt that the map appeared by order of the king and have a strictly state purpose. That is also visible in the cartouches, which are decorated only with simple ornaments and the typical Portuguese tiles known as azulejos. In addition to the set of four sheets, another more detailed map of the diamond district in the comarca of Serro do Frio was compiled by Soares and Capacci in 1734 (it partially overlaps with their northernmost sheet at a scale of 1:930,000).64 This topographic map shows the northern part of Minas Gerais at an approximate scale of 1:350,000. The map has a title that clearly explains its contents: the rivers and streams in which diamonds have been discovered and excavated from 1729 until the present year, 1734. The explanation note mentions the finding of a “precious stone of six octaves” (approximately 108 carats), in the mine of Curralinho (near present-day Diamantina) in August 1733. It is probably no coincidence that this map was made in Au-
gust 1734, when Martinho de Mendonça made the first demarcation of the “diamond lands.”65 The cartographic work that Soares and Capacci undertook in Minas Gerais resulted in monumental maps that changed the whole paradigm of mapping the interior of Brazil. The engagement of Jesuits in mapping the area’s most lucrative region, along the western borderland, and their successful survey of such a large area in only two years, made them the crown’s most trusted and efficient officers. Combined with their scientific background, their abilities in all types of fieldwork ensured their position as the colonial government’s most prominent partners in solving sensitive military and geostrategic issues. The position they had taken would change only at the time of the Treaty of Madrid, after which military engineers would take over the official mapping of the colony. 3.1.3 At the Southern Edge: The Jesuit Cartography of Colônia do Sacramento, Santa Catarina, and Rio Grande do Sul
In addition to their extensive cartographic activity in Minas Gerais, Diogo Soares and Domenico Capacci left their mark in the mapping of the southern part of Brazil as well. The southernmost point of the Portuguese colony in Brazil was Colônia do Sacramento. It was also Brazil’s worst sore spot, constantly disputed by the Spaniards, who claimed the same territory based on the Treaty of Tordesillas. Founded in 1680 as a Portuguese military outpost on the north bank of the Río de la Plata, Colônia do SacThe Jesuit Mapping of Brazil
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F igur e 10 7. Map of Colônia do Sacramento based upon a joint survey by Domenico Capacci and Diogo Soares. The map was finalized by Soares in 1731. (Facsimile from Cartografía jesuítica, 2:13)
ramento changed hands several times. Spain took the city twice, in 1681 and in 1705. After the Treaty of Utrecht (1713), which ended the War of the Spanish Succession, the city was handed over to the Portuguese, who began to fortify it in 1723. The following years saw an expansion of Portuguese settlements around Sacramento in a radius of up to 120 km (75 miles). In response, Bruno Mauricio de Zabala, the Spanish captain general of the Río de la Plata, founded Montevideo on December 24, 1726, to prevent further Portuguese expansion. With tensions continuing to rise, the Portuguese decided to send the Jesuits to conduct a survey of the region and produce maps that would confirm their 274
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control of the north bank of the Río de la Plata. Summoned by the Portuguese governor of Colônia, Soares and Capacci arrived in the city on October 24, 1730, with the aim of conducting a detailed survey of the city and the whole region.66 The cartographic campaign was carried out jointly by the two Jesuits. However, when, in the spring of 1731, Capacci had to return to Rio de Janeiro, he left Soares alone to finalize their maps. This is why the maps from that campaign were signed only with Soares’s name. The survey went well, and the map of the town of Colônia do Sacramento was made in 1731 (fig. 107).67 It was a detailed map intended for strategic military pur-
poses and the town’s further development (some of the construction works on the fortifications and the main square took place during Soares’s stay). The town is carefully mapped at scale as viewed from above, and the map includes the town’s fortifications— city walls and the main fortress. Some vital facilities are specifically designated by letters explained in the explanation key in the bottom margin of the map. The choice of facilities marked on the map confirms its military nature: fortress (A), central church (B), governor’s palace (C), college of the Society of Jesus (D), battery and chapel of San Pedro (E), chapel of Santa Rita (F), warehouse and powder magazine (G), infantry barracks (H), city port (L), and customhouse (N), all situated within the city walls. Behind the fortified part of the town, protecting the settlement from the sea was a residential area dominated by houses with farms (xácara), a lime kiln (f), a stockyard (g), a windmill (e), a brickyard (T), and cavalry barracks (H), which protected the town from the mainland. To reinforce the power of the map, but also to provide additional visual information to ships arriving from sea, the margins of the map are enriched by bird’s-eye views of the most prominent buildings defining the skyline of the town, as well as by some landmarks such as isles and bays that constitute important points of maritime access to the town, including Montevideo Bay, the main nearby Spanish outpost. A dedication to the king of Portugal, featured in the title of the map, additionally confirms the official nature of Soares’s cartographic work. The second map by Soares, which appeared the same year, shows a wider area of
the mouth of the Río de la Plata (fig. 108).68 Clearly based upon precise soundings and measurements, like the previous one, this map undoubtedly has a military purpose. Control over navigation in the mouth of the Río de la Plata, which formed the border between the Portuguese and Spanish Empires, was a key strategic objective of this map. Dense soundings and a compass rose give this map the features of a maritime chart, which enabled navigation and a safe approach to Colônia do Sacramento from the sea. Soares used various maritime maps for the presentation of the river mouth and the soundings, including those of French, Spanish, and English origin, especially in regard to the presentation of the channel around the Ortiz Bank that he had found on those maps, and copied it with special diligence.69 A concise presentation of the Paraná River, the Uruguay River, and the Río Negro, which includes the information necessary for navigation, reveals Portuguese interests in deeper penetration into the interior through the rivers. Apart from detailed navigational data, the map provided the Portuguese with topographical information on the southern part of the Banda Oriental, a region east of the Uruguay River and north of the Río de la Plata (present-day Uruguay), then mostly controlled by the Spaniards. As a Jesuit, Soares was also familiar with the human geography of the region. He noted the names of the most powerful nations, the Charrvas and the Minnanet, who showed the greatest resistance to subjugation by the Spanish. A careful depiction of the hydrographic network, the wooded areas along the rivers, and the mountain range of the Sierra The Jesuit Mapping of Brazil
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F igur e 10 8. Map of the mouth of the Río de la Plata compiled by Diogo Soares in 1731. By showing the Portuguese territory on the north bank of the Río de la Plata, this Jesuit map reveals its true military purpose. (Facsimile from Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:14)
de Maldonado, which protected the inland approach to Maldonado Bay, situated at the entrance to the Río de la Plata, provided the information needed for troop movements in their military campaigns. Regarding the lack of a more detailed presentation of relief, Soares complained that he was not able to make measurements of the heights, as Capacci had taken away the instruments necessary for a proper survey. The two inset maps that show Maldonado Bay and the Bay of Montevideo in the lower left-hand margin of the map clearly point out the Portuguese targets of their further conquest. The final touch was a cartouche showing 276
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the coat of arms of the king of Portugal, to whom the map was dedicated. Again, a strong royal symbol to reinforce the official statement of the map. Upon conclusion of the mapping activities around Colônia do Sacramento in 1731, Soares would once again return to this region, just after his successful cartographic campaign in Minas Gerais. The immediate motive for a remapping of the southern edge of the empire was the Spanish-Portuguese War (1735– 37), which was fought over the Banda Oriental and resulted in a Portuguese victory. The conflict broke out after the Spaniards attempted to suppress Por-
tuguese control by reducing the radius of activity of Colônia do Sacramento to about 2 km (1.25 miles) from the city. Spain sent infantry troops, accompanied by four thousand Guaraní warriors, to lay siege to Sacramento, but after a relief force of eighteen Portuguese ships arrived, Portugal gained naval superiority. The Portuguese soon retaliated by attempting to lay siege to Montevideo; however, under the influence of France, England, and the Low Countries, a peace treaty was signed on March 16, 1737. The victory encouraged the Portuguese to attempt further expansion. They occupied the areas south of Santa Catarina, and the city of Rio Grande was founded at the entrance to the Lagoa dos Patos in 1737. The administration of southern Brazil was then reorganized, and Santa Catarina and Rio Grande de São Pedro were detached from São Paulo, to become “sub-captaincies” under the Captaincy General of Rio de Janeiro.70 The strengthening of the Portuguese position in the south led to an urgent need for new maps that would confirm the situation in their favor. The Jesuits were thus invited to continue their cartographic campaign, which had started in Colônia do Sacramento in 1731, and to produce appropriate maps of the whole southern part of Brazil. Just like the maps of Minas Gerais, the maps of southern Brazil were part of the king’s project to compile an atlas of Portuguese America. However, this time Soares had to continue his cartographic work by himself, for Capacci had died in February 1736. The new assignment involved the reconnaissance of the southern coastline of Brazil, which Soares completed between 1737 and
1740. As a result, a series of maps appeared, of which sixteen have been identified; the others are considered lost.71 Soares’s extensive survey covered a large area starting from a point just south of Rio de Janeiro (Mirabella), situated at 23 degrees south latitude, all the way to the southern edge of the Portuguese Empire on the north bank of the Río de la Plata, at approximately 34°30′ south latitude. Although the maps were prepared at different scales, all the sheets are the same or nearly the same size, which confirms that they were meant to be part of the same publication, the atlas of Portuguese America (the same also refers to the sheets that cover Minas Gerais). That the sheets were designed to be part of this atlas is further confirmed by the numbering of the sheets in the title of the map, their uniform graphic design, and their almost identical cartouches. However, it should be noted that most of these sheets were left unfinished. On some of them, the cartouches remained empty, and the graticules of latitude and longitude indicated on the sheets were not accompanied by corresponding numbers. In terms of the methodology of the survey, the sheet designated number 4 gives us the best insight into Soares’s fieldwork (plate 33).72 This is actually an outline map that shows the route he took during the survey, as well as the results of his observations of the degree of latitude. Each location on his route is accompanied by its exact latitude, which confirms that his maps were compiled on an original mathematical basis. However, longitudes are not indicated, although they were obviously well-known to the author. The Jesuit Mapping of Brazil
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In general, Soares’s sheets of southern Brazil compiled in 1737– 40 present a rather narrow coastal area with very little information on the interior. Along the coastline Soares marked numerous native settlements and missions, while for the inland he limited his presentation to physical geography (marking the hydrographic network and the relief, as well as some wooded areas), providing us only with the names of the rivers. The detailed delineation of shoals and sandbars, as well as abundant maritime toponymy (bays, capes, islands, and islets), indicates that Soares used information from maritime charts to supplement his maps. Strangely enough, those sheets that are accompanied by a graticule of longitude do not refer to the prime meridian of Rio de Janeiro (e.g., sheet no. 5). It is clear from a comparison of the maps covering the southern coast of Brazil that some parts of the region were more important and better known than others. As expected, the most complete sheet is the one that covers the region just south of Rio de Janeiro (plate 34).73 Compiled at a scale of approximately 1:1,000,000, the map shows the region between Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo in striking detail, including the indented coastline, rich local toponymy, communication routes, relief, and complex hydrographic network. This density of information on physical and human geography of the region was not limited to the coastline, but also included the hinterland, with the Serra da Mantiqueira and the wellpopulated river valley of the Paraíba do Sul (although many of these settlements were not labeled). When it comes to the southern coastline 278
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of Santa Catarina, it is obvious that Soares’s knowledge was limited to the coastline and the adjacent islands of Santa Catarina and São Francisco do Sul (plate 35).74 The indication of local routes, many of which were maritime, suggests that the coastline was not connected with the hinterland. The island of São Francisco do Sul was considered a particularly important part of the Santa Catarina region— it was one of the oldest colonies in the region, established by the Portuguese in 1653— and so, in addition to the previous sheet, Soares compiled a large-scale map of the island and nearby Babitonga Bay, accompanied by abundant navigational information.75 The coastline south of Santa Catarina Island was better connected with the interior and thus better known. Sheet no. 5, which presents the region around the town of Laguna, includes a larger portion of the interior that stretches beyond the mountain range of the Serra Geral, where a new route from São Paulo to Laguna was opened in 1738 (plate 36).76 As the main communication routes along this part of southern Brazil were by land, this sheet contains little maritime information. The town of Laguna, established in 1684, is not marked, not because of the author did not know of it— he marked it clearly on his outline map of 1740— but because the map lacks finishing touches. As Soares went farther south, data became more scarce. The sheet that refers to Rio Grande do Sul remained in sketch form,77 but he made a summary on a separate large sheet that covered the whole area between Curitiba and the Río de la Plata, in which he included geographical informa-
F igur e 10 9. Outline map of the Portuguese possessions in southern Brazil showing its borders with land under the control of the Spanish Empire. The map was compiled by Diogo Soares around 1740. (Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, Lisbon)
tion on the Rio Grande do Sul (fig. 109).78 It is a compilation of his own observations and some contemporary Spanish maps of the Province of Paraguay. Thus, considerable influence of the Dávila-Machoni map of 1732 can be seen in the presentation of the Paraná and Uruguay Rivers. When it came to the region controlled by the Portuguese, Soares relied on the work of José da Silva Pais, a military engineer and colonial administrator who produced a map of the region in 1737.79 Thanks to Silva Pais’s map, Soares was able to represent the coastal areas of Lagoa Mirim and Lagoa dos Patos, which had hitherto been almost unknown. Moreover, the village of Tramandaí, estab-
lished in 1732 as an important gateway to the interior, and the city of Rio Grande, founded by Pais in 1737 for the purpose of keeping the southern territory secure, also found their place on Soares’s map, clearly documenting an established Portuguese presence in this region. Without any doubt, Soares was the most productive Jesuit cartographer ever to serve in colonial Brazil. He produced numerous maps, only some of which have been identified and attributed to him. Many of them are still considered lost, so our awareness of Soares’s overall contribution to Brazilian cartography is incomplete. According to Almeida, Soares produced at least twentyThe Jesuit Mapping of Brazil
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eight maps (including those coauthored by Capacci).80 Most of his maps were intended as part of the king’s atlas project on Portuguese America. Though Soares continued his cartographic work until his death in Goiás in 1748, he seems never to have reached the western frontier region, nor did he visit the state of Maranhão. The atlas project remained unfinished, yet his maps had a great impact and accomplished their goal. Soares’s cartographic work made official the representation of the Brazilian interior, until then altogether unknown to Europeans, and enabled the future maintenance and consolidation of the Portuguese Empire. Soares’s meticulous survey of natural and human resources boosted the colony’s economic capacity, particularly in the newly acquired parts in the west and south of the empire. Moreover, not only did his maps fulfill the purpose of claiming the territory, but they also served as a reliable base for a future demarcation, which would take place in the aftermath of the Treaty of Madrid. A comparison with subsequent maps of the region confirms that Soares’s maps served as a source for others, notably to Delisle, to d’Anville, to the author of the famous Mapa das Cortes of 1749, and to the boundary commission working in the southern extreme of the country in the aftermath of the Guaraní War. His work also illustrates a new paradigm in which an overview of the territory should contribute to order and rationality, which can be achieved only with the precision of cartography and astronomical calculations.81 However, numerous eighteenth-century disputes soon resulted in significant territorial losses in the south. Under the Treaty 280
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of Madrid, Portugal kept Rio Grande do Sul (including the missions east of the Uruguay River) but lost Sacramento. Although the Treaty of Paris (1763) allowed them to regain control of Sacramento, with the First Treaty of San Ildefonso (1777) they would lose both Sacramento and all the territory south of the Rio Grande. 3.1.4 Back to the Northern Edge: The Amazon in the Aftermath of the Treaty of Madrid
The Treaty of Madrid was one of the biggest triggers of cartographic activities in South America for both Spain and Portugal. For the Portuguese, the treaty brought about the recognition of a large territorial extension to the empire: they gained a vast portion of the Amazon basin in the north; Mato Grosso, Goiás, and Minas Gerais in the west; and Rio Grande do Sul, including the eastern Guaraní missions, in the south. The territorial changes confirmed by the treaty needed to be mapped. Maps of the territories gained by the treaty had to provide something even more important than geographical knowledge of the land acquired: they had to determine the exact position of the border. Portugal did not possess detailed maps of all its American territories’ border areas. For the New Atlas of Portuguese America, the Jesuits compiled reliable maps of the western and southern edges of the empire that could serve as a basis for the demarcation, but the areas of the Amazon that became the northern borderland of Brazil had not been fully mapped since the Treaty of Utrecht. Because negotiations for the new
demarcation urgently required an accurate cartographic basis, Jesuit sources once again proved invaluable. To that end the Mapa das Cortes was finalized in Lisbon in 1749 under the direction of Alexandre de Gusmão, a Brazilian diplomat and private secretary to the Portuguese King João V, known for his crucial role in the negotiations that resulted in the Treaty of Madrid (plate 37).82 The map is not signed, so its official author is not known. It was a compilation based on the numerous sources of Portuguese, French, and Spanish origin in which the Jesuit relations and maps played the main role. The echo of geographical data by José Quiroga, Samuel Fritz, La Condamine, José Gumilla, Jean Magnin, Dávila and Machoni, Jacques Coclé, Diogo Soares, and Domenico Capacci are clearly recognizable in the geographical features of the Mapa das Cortes. Some of these sources are mentioned in Gusmão’s correspondence, while others are obvious on comparison with the precursor maps of the Mapa das Cortes. This is especially true of the maps of Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville.83 The famous French cartographer was contracted by the Portuguese crown in the 1720s, when he met the Portuguese ambassador, Dom Luís da Cunha.84 Two decades later da Cunha and d’Anville worked together on a general map of South America entitled Carte de l’Amérique Méridionale, dating from 1748, which presented a draft of the new Spanish-Portuguese frontiers that would be finalized by the Treaty of Madrid. Da Cunha hoped that the Carte de l’Amérique Méridionale would be also used for diplomatic negotiations between Portugal and Spain over the frontier, negotia-
tions that were then under way; this is why the map shows the new borders in distinct colors. Dom Luís sent a preliminary version of Carte de l’Amérique Méridionale to the Count of Vila Nova de Cerveira, the Portuguese ambassador in Madrid, at the start of negotiations. However, orders then came directly from Gusmão telling Cerveira not to show the Spanish the maps he possessed, including d’Anville’s. Furthermore, he was told that a new map was being prepared in Portugal, in which the frontiers would better present the real interests of the crown.85 That other map was the Mapa das Cortes. The reason d’Anville’s Carte de l’Amérique Méridionale was rejected, even though it was more precise, was that the Mapa das Cortes, especially in the region of the Amazon, the most disputed part of the border, was purely political.86 The Mapa das Cortes intentionally sought to show the area west of the Tordesillas Line (in other words, the Portuguese territorial gains) as smaller than it was in reality.87 The crucial question is whether the author of Mapa das Cortes had access to d’Anville’s map. According to the extensive studies of Júnia Ferreira Furtado, the answer is yes. D’Anville’s work is clearly reflected in the Mapa das Cortes in terms of geographical content (as is to be expected, since they used the same Jesuit sources). Yet, they differ significantly in their mathematical basis, and the Mapa das Cortes was distorted intentionally. The Mapa das Cortes, for all its drawbacks, served its diplomatic purpose well, helping the Portuguese to make all the territorial gains they expected. However, although the Mapa das Cortes, drawn at a scale of 1:6,000,000, played a major role in the negotiations, it The Jesuit Mapping of Brazil
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was not sufficiently detailed for the demarcation of the most contentious parts of the border, those in the south and north of the colony, so it was necessary to create new maps for these areas. Unlike the Spanish possessions, in which military cartography was already well developed by the mid-eighteenth century, on the Portuguese side the Jesuits were still carrying out cartographic activities important to the administration of the empire. Accordingly, soon after the Treaty of Madrid was signed, the Portuguese King José I started to recruit Jesuits to be sent to Brazil to help demarcate the new borders of the empire. In a decree of 1751 he sent the Italian Jesuits Bartolomeo Panigay, Bartolomeo Pincetti, and Stephano Bramieri to Brazil to carry out the necessary astronomical observations along the southern borders of Brazil, particularly at the border with the Spanish Province of Paraguay. Work began in 1752 but was interrupted by the outbreak of the Guaraní War the following year; it was not resumed until 1758, by which time the Jesuits already lost power. While the mapping of the southern borders of the empire was temporarily halted, the demarcation of the northern border started more or less according to plan in 1752.88 The mapping of the Amazon was particularly difficult not only because of the demanding terrain, but also because of the lack of more reliable maps of Portuguese provenance on which they could rely. Although the Spanish, led by the Jesuits from the provinces of Quito and New Granada, produced a significant number of maps of the Amazon region, after the first achievements of Ludwig Pfeil Portuguese cartog282
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raphy did not make any serious effort to map the Amazon that would have resulted in a cartographic synthesis of the northern areas of Brazil until as late as the Treaty of Madrid. D’Anville’s Carte de l’Amérique méridionale (Paris, 1748) and Mapa das Cortes (Lisbon, 1749), which relied on the same sources, are still the best maps of the Amazon region. The first attempts at detailed mapping of the Portuguese part of the Amazon after the Treaty of Madrid were made soon after the treaty was signed, but, owing to the lack of extensive surveying, these attempts still heavily relied on older mapping templates of Spanish (Samuel Fritz) or French provenance (La Condamine and d’Anville). Apparently the first significant effort in this regard was made by the German Jesuit Lorenz Wilhelm Kaulen, who, around 1752, while serving as a missionary in missions along the Xingu River, produced a map showing the flow of the Xingu and Tapajós Rivers.89 Based on his own observations, he compiled a map whose existence is known to us only from his correspondence, because to date it has not been found.90 Almost simultaneously, a Slovakian Jesuit in the service of Spain, János Nepomuk Szluha, worked on the reconnaissance of the whole Amazon and its tributaries.91 In 1753 he drafted a map of the Jesuit Vice Province of Marañón that shows the spatial scope of the Portuguese missions in the Amazon region. Unlike Kaulen’s map, which has not been found, Szluha’s autograph is preserved, yet unsigned, thus often attributed incorrectly (fig. 110).92 Additional confusion about the authorship of this map was introduced by the Portuguese historian Serafim Leite, who confused
F igur e 110. Facsimile map by Janós Nepomuk Szluha, compiled in 1753, often attributed incorrectly to Kaulen (from Leite, História da Companhia de Jesus no Brasil, 4:390– 91)
Kaulen’s map of Xingu and Tapajós with the map of the Amazon by János Nepmuk Szluha compiled in 1753, attributing the latter to Kaulen (a facsimile of the map was published by Leite as Kaulen’s).93 However, the controversy over the authorship of the map is resolved by Szluha’s contemporary Anselm Franz Eckart, who copied Szluha’s map in 1755 (fig. 111).94 In his notes Eckart clearly indicated that the map he made a copy of is the work of his colleague János Nepomuk Szluha.95 Szluha’s work was the first Portuguese map compiled after the Treaty of Madrid that shows the Amazon under their rule. Although the map does not directly indicate Portuguese borders with Spanish possessions— those official delineations in the Amazon will only begin that year— its extent (westward to the Yavari River) exactly matches Portuguese territorial expectations. By naming what is indisputable (the existence of Portuguese territory) and omitting what is potentially debatable (the location of the borders), Szluha clearly defines his loyalty to the Portuguese crown. Even more pronounced is his commitment to promoting the Society of Jesus, partic-
ularly in the close attention he pays to Jesuit infrastructure in the Amazon area. Obviously inspired by José Gumilla’s 1741 map of New Granada, in addition to Jesuit missions, Szluha also marked all Jesuit colleges, seminaries, and residences, skillfully highlighting the presence of the Society of Jesus and their central role in maintaining colonial power in this inaccessible area. Szluha was known primarily as a skilled astronomer, a characteristic reflected in the mathematical accuracy of his presentation of the Amazon region. The map is oriented toward the north and accompanied by a graticule of longitude (east of Ferro) and latitude, a scale (ca. 1:3,000,000), and an extensive explanation key. Although the map is undoubtedly based on his original observations, Szluha also relies heavily on his cartographic predecessors. The influence of d’Anville’s Carte de l’Amérique méridionale is clearly visible, especially in Szluha’s presentation of the main course of the Amazon as well as its southern tributaries. D’Anville’s map obviously served him as a basis for his research, which he then supplemented with his own data. In this regard, the most significant progress on the map is evident in the The Jesuit Mapping of Brazil
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F igur e 111. A manuscript copy of János Nepomuk Szluha’s map, compiled in 1753, made by Anselm Eckart in 1755. (MacLean Collection)
area around the Pinaré River, where Szluha served as a missionary. Szluha’s significant advances in the presentation of the Xingu and Tapajós Rivers indicate that he probably incorporated Kaulen’s data in his map as well. Although Szluha’s map represents an important step forward in the reconnaissance of the complex hydrographic network of the Amazon and the marking of Portugal’s possessions in that region, it only confirms the urgent need to conduct a survey of the whole region at the larger 284
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scale. A new, much more detailed map had to be drawn that would allow the demarcation of the northern border of Brazil. In 1753 the Spanish-Portuguese demarcation in the Amazon region was entrusted to a group of military engineering officers who, on the orders of the king, were joined by a royal mathematician and astronomer from Croatia, the Jesuit Ignatius Szentmártonyi.96 The engineers were mainly German and Italian officers, while geodetic and astronomical measurements were entrusted to Szentmártonyi. He was joined by Father Giovanni
Angelo Brunelli, a professor of mathematics from Bologna.97 The expedition, led by Francisco Xavier de Mendonça Furtado and accompanied by about a thousand soldiers and local natives, set off from Pará on October 2, 1754. They sailed around the island of Marajó and farther up the Amazon to the Río Negro, and then up the Río Negro to the village of Mariuá (present-day Barcelos). There the entire expedition had to wait for almost two years to meet with the Spanish boundary commission, which had been detained by the native nations of the Orinoco region.98 While there, Szentmártonyi and his colleagues continued to carry out their measurements, and by the summer of 1755 they had compiled a detailed map of the Amazon from the river’s mouth to the upper course of the Río Negro. The expedition was well equipped with geodetic and astronomical instruments, a sizable amount of apparatus, and several books, ensuring the accuracy and efficiency of their measurements. According to a 1753 report, the expedition carried a compass, telescope, precise chronometer, quadrant, theodolite, plane table, barometer, thermometer, and camera obscura.99 In addition, members had at their disposal a number of books on astronomy, mathematics, and science, which they used in exploration of the terrain and field mapping. The required determinations of longitude and latitude were carried out by Szentmártonyi. Measurements and astronomical observations were also carried out by Giovanni Angelo Brunelli and several junior assistants. The map, based upon Szentmártonyi’s measurements, was drawn by Captain João André Schwebel with the
aid of three military engineers: Corporal Sebastião José da Silva and adjutants Felipe Sturm and Adam Leopoldo de Breuning.100 The map showed the course of the Río Negro from the village of Mariuá to the confluence of the Río Negro with the Amazon, and farther down the course of the Amazon to Belém at the river’s mouth, strictly following the route of the expedition (plates 38a and 38b).101 It was produced at a scale of approximately 1:550,000, a far larger scale than that of any previous map of the area. The Ferro meridian was used (eastward), and the carefully drawn coordinate grid was divided into degrees and minutes. This was the first map to provide insight into the actual location and size of the bed of the Amazon, with its many meanders, river islands, shallows, and dead logs. It was thus the first true hydrographic map of the area. The map shows the route of the expedition, carefully marked by a dotted line, as well as where they made camp each day, indicated by an asterisk. Its exceptionally rich toponymic material was what made the map particularly valuable. Members of the expedition recorded many original names of tributaries and fluvial islands as well as all the villages and missions, indicated neutrally by a small circle (without a cross), and the fortresses and farms (fazendas), indicated by a small circle and labeled sitio.102 With regard to the content of the map, it had nothing revealing that a crucial role in its production was played by a Jesuit priest. It was a hydrographic map compiled for the purpose of navigation as well as control over the areas in the north of the country. It should, however, be noted that the demarcation of land and military control over The Jesuit Mapping of Brazil
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the newly established boundary was still of secondary importance (the boundary was not even shown on the map). The entire expedition, though officially launched to mark the boundaries, was in fact supposed to collect valuable data on the economic potential of the region in terms of more efficient exploitation of little-known parts of the Amazon region.103 Unfortunately, the cartographic success of the expedition was not accompanied by great political success. Because of the constant tension between Portugal and Spain, the demarcation was never completed, and it was eventually suspended after the death of Spain’s King Ferdinand VI in 1759. In 1761 the Treaty of Madrid was officially terminated, but hostilities between Portugal and Spain continued. Despite the formal failure of the demarcation, this map was highly valued in contemporary political and the professional circles. However, because of the exceptionally detailed information contained therein, the map was for a long time considered a confidential document. Its content was not copied onto maps by other contemporary cartographers, not even those working for the military.104 Lying hidden in the archives and inaccessible to the public eye, the 1755 hydrographic map of the Amazon did not attract attention until the mid-nineteenth century. In 1862 the map was copied by Lieutenant Engineer Miguel Vieira Ferreira (1837– 1895)105— confirmation that the 1755 hydrographic map was still considered relevant regarding its depiction of the course of the Amazon. Szentmártonyi’s map of the Amazon marked the end of active Jesuit participa286
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tion in affairs of state. The disagreements between Governor Mendonça Furtado (brother of the Marquis of Pombal) and the Jesuits extended to the kingdom, contributing to the suppression of the Society of Jesus throughout the Portuguese Empire (1759). The fate that soon befell Ignatius Szentmártonyi is representative of that of the entire Jesuit order in Brazil. Owing to a disagreement with Mendonça Furtado, but primarily because of the government’s inhumane behavior toward the local native population, Szentmártonyi interrupted his explorations as early as 1756. Suffering from poor health, he devoted his efforts to his missionary work, which was interrupted by the order for the suppression of the Society of Jesus and the expulsion of its members from Portugal and all its colonies. Deported and imprisoned in 1760, Szentmártonyi spent seventeen full years in Portuguese dungeons without ever having been examined or sentenced. Only after repeated interventions by the Austrian Empress Maria Theresa and after Pombal’s fall was he released in 1777, whereupon he returned to his homeland, Croatia. The end of Jesuit engagement in the demarcation of the northern Brazilian border had far-reaching consequences and clearly reflected the loss of the power that the Jesuits once had. Szentmártonyi’s clash with Mendonça Furtado coincided with the culmination of the Guaraní War, in which the Jesuits were involved on both sides, the Portuguese and the Spanish. However, unlike the Spanish Jesuits, who were active in mapping during the war itself (see, e.g., the map by Tadeáš Xaver Enis), the Portuguese Jesuits did not develop any cartographic ac-
tivities in the turbulent southern region, as their disgrace and subsequent suppression forced them to cease such activities even before the expulsion itself. The Portuguese maps that appeared during the Guaraní War were all compiled by military staff, not by Jesuits— including the demarcation maps of the southern Brazilian borders. The demarcation process was interrupted in 1752, and when it resumed in 1758 the deportation of Portuguese Jesuits began; they were formally expelled in 1759. Therefore, the demarcation and mapping of the southern borders was entrusted to José Custódio de
Sá e Faria, a Portuguese military engineer and later governor of the Captaincy of Rio Grande de São Pedro. However, even a cursory glance at his demarcation maps reveals the strong influence of Soares’s work.106 His presentation of the topography of the terrain, and especially his characteristic outlines of the lagoons along the coast, confirm a close resemblance with Soares’s map of the same region. Portuguese military cartography, which experienced a leap in development immediately after the Treaty of Madrid, still relied on the Jesuit maps made before 1750.
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4 New France Searching for the Northwest Passage
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ew France (French: Nouvelle-France) formally started its territorial development with the exploration of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence by Jacques Cartier in 1534. Initially it embraced the shores of the Saint Lawrence River, Newfoundland, and Acadia (Nova Scotia), but it gradually expanded to include much of the Great Lakes region and parts of the trans-Appalachian west. At its peak in 1712 (before the Treaty of Utrecht), the territory of New France extended from Newfoundland to the Rocky Mountains and from Hudson Bay to the Gulf of Mexico. In 1756 the Seven Years’ War in Europe began, and the American phase of this conflict, the French and Indian War, was to settle the fate of New France. When the war was finally ended by the Treaty of Paris in 1763, all of New France east of the Mississippi, outside the environs of New Orleans, was ceded to Great Britain. During the thirty years after Columbus’s first voyage, the Spanish, British, and Portuguese were exploring the New World. France, however, the fourth European maritime nation, remained uncharacteristically quiet regarding overseas exploration until 1524, when an Italian brought the French flag to North America.1 French mapping of the area later known as New France started in 1524 with the expedition of Giovanni da Verrazzano. Funded by the king of France, Verrazzano explored the coast of North America between Florida and New Brunswick. On the basis of his voyage, Verrazzano wrote interesting though sometimes inaccurate accounts of the land and its inhabitants. Verrazzano’s information appeared in a 1527 map by Visconte Maggiolo.2 Based on Verrazzano’s accounts, Labrador is labeled Lavoradore 289
and represented as having an open strait to the west suggestive of the fabled Northwest Passage, while the land mass along the Atlantic coast is called Francesca, honoring the French King François I (1515– 1547). A similar map was compiled by Verrazzano’s brother, Girolamo, about 1529, naming the region Gallia Nova.3 No fewer than thirtythree new place-names are seen in Newfoundland (Terra nova sive Limo Lve) and the northeast coast on Verrazzano’s map.4 Although Newfoundland is presented as part of the mainland instead of as an island, the map nonetheless was extremely influential on American cartography.5 After Verrazzano’s pioneering venture, subsequent to which the first outlines of New France appeared on a map, a new stage of exploration and mapping began with the arrival of the French navigator and explorer Jacques Cartier. In 1534 he entered the Gulf of Saint Lawrence and took possession of New France for King François I. On the basis of his exploration of the Saint Lawrence River in 1535– 36, which allowed France to lay claim to lands that would become Canada, Cartier wrote an account and compiled a map of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence.6 Thanks to Cartier, the first more detailed information on the Saint Lawrence River and its tributary appeared on maps by Nicolas Desliens (1541), Sebastian Cabot (1544), Jean Alphonse (1545), Pierre Desceliers (1546), and Nicolas Vallard (1547). Cartier’s maps enabled the dissemination of knowledge about the Great Waterway. After Gerardus Mercator drew a marine chart in 1569 that portrayed the Great Lakes region and the Saint Lawrence River, based
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on Cartier’s findings, knowledge about the geography of New France became more widely known to Europeans. However, it was still limited to the coastline and the Saint Lawrence waterway. Embroiled in a series of devastating religious wars, during the late sixteenth century France limited its exploration efforts to New France, which caused mapping to stagnate. Only after the new French King Henry IV (1589– 1610), managed to end the wars and consolidate France into a modern state that became the preeminent power in Europe would exploration and mapping, as well as colonization, gain new momentum with the arrival of the French explorer Samuel de Champlain. In 1602 or thereabouts, Henry IV of France appointed Samuel de Champlain royal hydrographer. His appointment coincided with the establishment of the Company of New France, a stock company modeled after English and Dutch companies; it was given a royal charter for trading rights in America, including the monopoly on fur trade. Because the Company promised to settle colonists and develop relations with the native nations of New France, Champlain was invited to join an expedition that the Company was just about to send to that area. Champlain’s mission was clear: he was to explore the country, examine its waterways, and choose a site for a large trading post. Champlain began his explorations soon after he arrived in 1604. He founded Port Royal as the first permanent European settlement in North America in 1605, and he founded the first permanent French establishment at Quebec in 1608.7 Accompanied by another French explorer, Étienne Brûlé,
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F igur e 112. Samuel de Champlain’s 1612 map of the Saint Lawrence River and part of the Great Lakes region. (MacLean Collection)
Champlain managed to record most of the early French discoveries in the Great Lakes region. With Champlain’s arrival, the mapmaking of New France took a new course.8 In contrast to the early mapping of New France, which was mostly limited to the coastline and the islands, Champlain went deep into the interior of the continent, with a keen interest in the mapping of the Great Lakes. With the aim of developing a trade route from the Saint Lawrence River toward the interior of the continent (and perhaps even of finding a passage to China), between 1609 and 1616 he reached Lakes Champlain, Nipissing, Ontario, and Huron.9 Based on his own explorations and the reports he obtained from the local nations,10 Champlain compiled a
manuscript map of New France, based on which an engraving was made in 1612 to accompany the account he published in 1613 (fig. 112).11 It was the first map that showed the chain of the Great Lakes and indicated both magnetic and true north. Around 1616 Champlain compiled another, much more detailed map documenting his epic discoveries made in 1615– 16 and reflecting his travels into the unrecorded territory of Georgian Bay, Lake Huron, Lake Ontario, Lake Nipissing, as well as into Iroquois territory.12 To summarize his knowledge of the Great Lakes region collected prior to 1629, when the Saint Lawrence River was temporary taken over by English privateers, in 1632 Champlain published a revised edition of his 1612 map in which he included all his findings (fig. 113).13 It was the first map
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F igur e 113. Revised edition of Samuel de Champlain’s 1612 map, supplemented with new findings. Drafted in 1632, this map was the first to depict almost the entire Great Lakes network. It was used as a starting point for many Jesuit maps. (MacLean Collection)
to depict the existence of almost the entire Great Lakes network: Huron (Mer Douce), Ontario (Lac St. Louis), Nipissing (Lac des Biserenis), Erie (displayed but unnamed), Simcoe (unnamed), and Superior (Grand Lac), which Champlain actually never saw but heard of from the native peoples as well as from his fellow explorers Brûlé and Grenolle, who probably reached the lake in the early 1620s.14 The only lake missing is Michigan, which was to be discovered about two years later by Champlain’s subordinate Jean Nicolet. In addition to showing the Great Lakes region, this map included information that Champlain learned about Hudson Bay (then called the Northern Sea), which was controlled by English privateers. Champlain’s maps are drawn in the French 292
cartographic tradition, owing nothing to Spanish or other maritime chartmaking schools. They are constructed based on an oblique meridian, as was common among navigators who used compasses uncorrected for magnetic deviation.15 Last but not least, although prepared before Jesuit missions gained a strong foothold in New France, Champlain’s maps make reference to the local nations, such as the Antouhonorons, Assistagúronons, Biserinis, Carantouën, Les Cheueux releuez, Hirocois, Gens de Petun, Nation Neutre, and so on, testifying that first contact had already been established. Champlain’s maps were extremely influential, and not only as the main source for European commercial cartography of
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the region. Until the appearance of Nicolas Sanson d’Abbeville’s maps in 1650 and 1656, Champlain was considered an undisputed authority on New France.16 Champlain’s mapmaking achievements did not reflect only on European cartography: the style and content of his maps greatly affected the Jesuit mapping of New France in its early stages of development. The Jesuits used Champlain’s maps as a starting point for their own maps, and his influence is noticeable on most of their maps of New France compiled during the seventeenth century. 4.1 The Early Jesuit Mapping of Huronia
The first Jesuits arrived in New France as early as 1609, but their first missions were short-lived.17 A more successful period of Jesuit missionary activities in New France coincided with the formation of a new trading organization known as the Company of One Hundred Associates, which received a royal charter in 1627 and was granted a monopoly on all commerce in New France (with the exception of fisheries). The charter excluded all religions except the Catholic Church. The Recollects were banned, and the Jesuits were given positions as spiritual advisors to the colony. The company supported the Jesuits through land grants and the construction and maintenance of their residences, while the crown provided them with pensions, gratuities from custom duties, and concession of land.18 Champlain, as the most prominent explorer and cartographer of New France, was appointed the Company’s commander in America. The investors, as well as the king, envi-
sioned the creation of a French Catholic society in which the native nations, thanks to the Jesuits’ missionary activities, would cooperate.19 All of the furs were to be sold to the company’s agents, and the profits from the enterprise were to be used to sustain Jesuit missionary efforts. To reach that goal, missions were to be opened among all major native nations, beginning with the Hurons. The first missions in Huronia had already been established by the Recollects in 1615, so when the Jesuits arrived in 1626, they took over the Recollect missions and in 1634 began founding their own. About that same time the Jesuits started their cartographic activity. Unfortunately, some documents from the 1620s and early 1630s, including maps, have been lost. There is evidence of existence of at least one map of Huron country that appeared just after the first Jesuits arrived there. One of the early Jesuit missionaries in Huronia, Charles Lalemant, in his letter of August 1, 1626, mentioned, “I sent him [Father Jérôme Lalemant, who was still in France] a map of this country.”20 Although Lalemant does not mention who made the map (the Jesuits or the Recollects), the map certainly acted as a kind of starting point for the Jesuit exploration and mapping that followed. The main role in French exploration of the Huron country and in the establishment of Jesuit missions was played by Jérôme Lalemant and Jean de Brébeuf,21 authors of the oldest preserved Jesuit maps of New France. The first, entitled Corographie du Pays des Hurons, is attributed to Jérôme Lalemant (plate 39).22 In both content and iconography, it is a rather typical missionary map, showing the location of the misThe Early Jesuit Mapping of Huronia
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sions established in Huronia during the 1630s and 1640s. Although the map is not dated, it is clear from the missions depicted that it was compiled between 1639 and 1648. Also, it is possible that Jérôme Lalemant’s map was influenced by Charles Lalemant’s map, which he received in 1626 while still in France. Showing the Penetang Peninsula, situated on the south shore of Lake Huron, in present-day Ontario, this map provides a detailed insight into Huronia, where numerous missions had been established since 1634. Altogether twenty-five village sites are depicted, including two that are unnamed: Arent, Karenassa, Etondatrateus (marked A),23 Tondakea (marked B), Taruentutunum (marked C), Oenrio, Saint Charles, Sainte Magdelaine, La Conception, Saint Xavier, Saint Michel, Saint Chaudière, Kaotia, Saint Denis, Saint Ignace, Saint Joachim, Saint Jean, Saint Louis, Saint Joseph, Saint Jean Baptiste, Sainte Elisabeth, Arethsi, and Sainte Marie. Judging from their positions, the signs without names could represent the two old Recollect missions Carhagouha and Quieunonascaran. Most of the missions bear the names of Catholic saints— as we would expect of Jesuit missions— but many are labeled with native names. However, all the missions are designated by a church symbol, including those with native names, confirming their Christianization. The whole map is drawn with remarkable accuracy. The locations of all the settlements are marked correctly, as has been confirmed by archaeological finds.24 The five bays that cut into the coast of the Penetang Peninsula—Thunder Bay, Penetang 294
Bay, Midland Bay, Hog Bay, and Matchedash Bay— are clearly recognizable, as are the Matchedash Bay’s four main rivers, the Wye (with Lake Ott), Hog, Sturgeon, and Coldwater. East of the Penetang Peninsula, the Severn River and Lake Couchiching are delineated appropriately, while to the south Lake Simcoe, with its four islets, is marked in its recognizable shape. Moreover, the map is accompanied by a scale and a graticule of latitude and longitude. However, it is interesting to note that the graticule that Lalemant mentioned in his account and the one noted on the map are not the same. While his map places Huronia at 44°30′ north (the same as Champlain and all Jesuit writers), in his narrative Lalemant places the country a full degree farther north. Lalemant was the first Jesuit to try to estimate the longitude of Huronia, but again, with a discrepancy between that shown on the map and that presented in his account. When describing the longitude, he estimated that Huronia was situated about two hundred leagues to the west of Quebec or 1300 leagues west of France.25 On the map, he placed Huronia at 299° east, which would place Huronia approximately 61° west of France (again, very similar to Champlain). Thus, the longitude data specified in his narrative differ from the same data on the map by about 13°.26 This confirms Lalemant’s high confidence in Champlain’s 1632 map in the designation of Huronia’s latitude and longitude. Although Lalemant’s map is at a much larger scale and provides detailed information for an area that was only superficially known to Champlain, Champlain’s influence on the mathematical construction of Lalemant’s map can be clearly seen.
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Another map of Huronia, entitled Description du pais des Hurons, is attributed to Jean de Brébeuf (plate 40). It portrays Huronia during the same time as the Corographie but is not nearly as accurate nor as well drawn. This manuscript map, made on vellum, depicts a wider region of Huronia extending from Georgian Bay on the north (Partie du Grand Lac des Hurons) to Lake Ontario on the south and from the Bruce Peninsula on the west to Lake Simcoe on the east (Lac Oventarenk).27 It is not accompanied by a graticule of longitude and latitude, but it has a scale, given in French leagues. The map was originally dated 1631, but it was later changed to 1651. Judging from the missions that are marked, the main part of the map was probably drawn between 1639 and 1648, with slight revisions made after 1650, which most likely explains the change from 1631 to 1651.28 Just as the above-mentioned map was made to illustrate the locations of the native nations and the Jesuit missions, so was the Description du pais des Hurons compiled to illustrate these locations particularly in the area between Lake Simcoe and Georgian Bay. The marked settlements, however, do not completely coincide with those mentioned in the Corographie. Moreover, most of the villages are now labeled with their local names as well: Etondatrateus (actually a village on neighboring Christian Island), Ihonatiria (marked without a name), La Conception (Ossossane), Saint Michel, Sainte Cécile (Taruentutunum), Sainte Magdelaine (Oenrio II), Saint Charles, Saint Xavier, Saint Chaudière, Saint Denis, Saint Ignace, Saint Joachim, Saint Jean, Saint Louis, Saint Joseph, Saint Jean-
Baptiste (Contarea), Khionontateronons (the Mission of the Apostles), Sainte Elisabeth, Arethsi, and Sainte Marie. The cross on Christian Island marks the location of the newly established mission of Sainte Marie II, built there in 1650. Although not exactly accurate, Brébeuf’s map is very important in that it demonstrates a different discourse than that of Lalemant’s map. The map shows how Jesuit cartography, and especially its iconography, developed and changed over time. Being one of the earliest preserved Jesuit maps, it contains no Jesuit or Catholic symbols. The missions are marked by triangles, symbolizing tents (wigwams), while Sainte Marie among the Hurons is marked by a pictorial view of the fort with a main entrance and palisades or walls.29 Similar symbols can be found on Champlain’s maps as well, testifying to his influence on early Jesuit mapping. The numerous missions designated in the region between Lakes Huron and Simcoe point to another unique feature of this map: the bilingual place-names. Most of the missions are double-labeled with their local names, given by the natives, and their Christian names, given by the Jesuits. Such double labeling of the settlements is almost unknown on later Jesuit maps (as a rule, original place-names can be found only for those native settlements that did not have a Christian name, usually those inhabited by the unbaptized natives). Besides the missionized area, the map also shows the neighboring territory explored by the Jesuits. It is documented that in April 1637 Jesuits from Huronia traveled westward toward the Bruce Peninsula to visit the Tobacco and Petun nations. During The Early Jesuit Mapping of Huronia
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the journey, which lasted two weeks, the Jesuits established two missions, Saint Jean (Etarita) and Saint Mathias (Ekarenniondi).30 The traces of that journey are also documented by Brébeuf ’s map. In the region west of the Penetang Peninsula, the author noted the existence of the Nation de Petun, Ekan8tak, and Etia8ciondia, as well as the village Ekarenniondi, where a Jesuit mission was established among the Nation of the Deer (the place-name is written in the lake). Along the Bruce Peninsula the presence of other natives is noted: the Hurons (Oudechisati) and the settlement of the Odawa (Cheueux releuez), which was visited by Champlain in 1615. Other microtoponyms that are noted as heard from the local inhabitants, mostly the Hurons, include the names of islands, such as Gahoendoe (Gab8andoé) for Christian Island and Ondiontonen for Giants Tomb Island, as well as Chion Kiara (Khionckiara), a term for portage in the Huron language, which makes this map incredibly important from the linguistic point of view as well.31 Although Brébeuf relied to a certain extent on Champlain’s work, his map is a great step forward in the presentation of the Bruce Peninsula. Champlain, had drawn the Bruce Peninsula as stretching along an east– west axis; Brébeuf was the first to orient it correctly, from northwest to southeast, and enabled more reliable information about its human geography, a testament to his firsthand knowledge of the region. Encouraged by their success in Huronia, the Jesuits started to spread their missions into new parts of New France. In 1634 they established a new mission, La Concep296
tion in Trois-Rivières, an important center of the fur trade, located at the confluence of the Saint Maurice and Saint Lawrence Rivers.32 The year 1640 was especially productive for Brébeuf. Once the missions in Huronia were stabilized, Brébeuf (by now an experienced explorer and mapmaker), together with Pierre-Joseph-Marie Chaumonot, decided to explore the southern region more thoroughly. In 1640 he made an expedition to the Neutral Nation and established the Mission of the Angels.33 Meanwhile, in 1633– 34, Champlain and Jean Nicolet continued their search for the Northwest Passage, which they believed would lead them to China. They traveled through northern Lake Huron, through the straits at Michilimackinac, and then to the western shore of Lake Michigan, to the area known as la baie des Puants (near presentday Green Bay, Wisconsin). Nicolet failed to find the Chinese Sea, although he traveled down the Rivière aux Renards (Fox River) as far as the village of the Mascouten and then toward the Illinois River, a tributary of the Mississippi. Nicolet was the first French Canadian documented to have traveled on Lake Michigan and into the interior of the present state of Wisconsin.34 Unfortunately, neither the original maps nor the reports from this expedition, which would directly testify to the exploration of these regions, have survived. However, we do have the relation of Paul Le Jeune of 1640, which was based largely on Jean Nicolet’s geographical information; it conveys uncertainty as whether Lake Michigan is the bay of Lake Huron or a separate body.35 The definitive proof about the nature of the body of water we now know as Lake Michigan would not
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exist until 1648, when Father Ragueneau in his relations clarified information on the existence of three separate lakes— Huron, Michigan (Puants), and Superior.36 During the early 1640s two important maps appeared that documented Jesuit exploration just before the start of Iroquois attacks. The unsigned maps, known as Chemin des Iroquois and Novvelle France,37 were based largely on Jesuit findings (plate 41), especially Novvelle France. According to the content of Novvelle France, the map was drafted based on information gathered from Champlain’s 1632 map, a “Huron map” acquired or compiled by Jesuit Father Paul Ragueneau in 1639 or 1640 (known only from mention by Paul Le Jeune),38 and two Frenchmen, Godefroy and Marguerie, who returned from the Iroquois country (in the Lake Champlain area) in June 1641. The fact that the map does not depict Montreal, the construction of which began in the spring of 1642, nor Fort Richelieu, which the French started building in August of that same year, fixes the date of the map as late 1641.39 It shows the Saint Lawrence River– Great Lakes system far more accurately than did Champlain’s map. In addition to the Saint Lawrence (Riviere de St. Laurens) and Saint Maurice Rivers (Les trois Rivieres), several other rivers and lakes are also labeled: the French River (R. des Nipisiriniens), the Rivière Richelieu (R. des Iroquois), the R. de St. Francois, the Rivière Nicolet (R. le Tardif), and the Kennebec River (R. de Kinebequi). As for lakes, the author was familiar with Lake Champlain (Lac de Champlain), Lake George (designated only as Lac), Lake Ontario (Lac de Sainct Louys), Lake Erie (Lac des Gens du
Chat), Lake Huron (La Mer Doulce du Lac des Hurons), Lake Nipissing (Lac des Nipisiriniens), Lake Simcoe (Le lac Ouentara) and Grand Lac, que’on croit avoir sa descharge vers la chine (quite possibly Lake Superior). A lake whose identification is less certain is Lac des Eaux de Mer (probably a fusion of Saginaw Bay and Lake Michigan). The new findings on lakes presented on the maps are accompanied by an especially large number of names of local native groups and nations. If the date and author are correct, then Novvelle France is the earliest known map of the Great Lakes nations made just before the disasters of the late 1640s. It is evident that the main purpose of the map was to depict the political divisions of northeastern North America, in particular the distribution of native groups known directly or through native accounts to the French in the Great Lakes region. With its focus on the Hurons and the Petun and Neutral nations in southern Ontario, it is likely that the map depicts a Huron view of the world. The names are noted in Huron, although at times so mangled that one is forced to conclude that the cartographer was not familiar with any of the Iroquoian languages. It is thus hard to believe that map was drawn by some of the Jesuit missionaries. The misspelling of so many native names and the lack of knowledge about the natives of the Ottawa Valley and the three Iroquois villages (Trois Villages d’Iroquois), which the author did not identify as Mohawk, lead to the conclusion that the map was compiled by someone who was not well informed and who thus tried to combine different sources of information that he was unable to evaluate owing to his lack The Early Jesuit Mapping of Huronia
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of firsthand knowledge. Also, it is obvious that the author of Novvelle France was not familiar with maps of Lalemant and Brébeuf (note the incorrect orientation of the Bruce Peninsula). Conrad Heidenreich named Jean Bourdon as the most likely author of the map.40 Bourdon was a trained surveyor, but he could not speak Huron and had never been in the Canadian interior away from the Saint Lawrence colony; such a person well have made mistakes of these kinds. Regardless of whether some of the Jesuit cartographers were directly involved in the emergence of this map or it came from the pen of a French explorer, the map was certainly based for the most part on geo-
graphical information gathered by the Jesuits, documenting the latter’s knowledge of New France during the 1640s. The fact that it was this map that was considered to be one of the most reliable map of New France is confirmed by the fact that Nicolas Sanson, in compiling his map Le Canada, ou Nouvelle France (Paris, 1656 and 1657), relied heavily upon it, taking from it data on the names of local nations (fig. 114).41 Nevertheless, Sanson, knowing that about fifteen years had passed since the Novvelle France map was made, supplemented his map with the most recent Jesuit information, above all with data from Ragueneau’s 1648 report making clear that Lake Michigan is not a
F igur e 11 4. Map of New France prepared by Nicolas Sanson (Paris, 1656) that acknowledged Jesuit achievements in the exploration and mapping of the Great Lakes region. (MacLean Collection) 298
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bay of Lake Huron but a separate body of water. Last but not least, Sanson was also familiar with Brébeuf ’s map of Huron and possible with Lelemant’s work as well. His presentation of the Bruce Peninsula coincides completely with its appearance on Brébeuf ’s Description du pais des Hurons. Sanson’s map of Canada and the Great Lakes became widely known; it was one of the most important European maps of New France of the period and a landmark in the mapping of the Great Lakes region, thanks to which Jesuit knowledge of the region became generally acknowledged. Not only the information but even the plates used for Sanson’s maps circulated among several Parisian firms, including those of AlexisHubert Jaillot, Pierre Duval, and Pierre Moullard. Sanson’s maps were also copied by Richard Blome (America Septentrionale, ca. 1670) and William Berry (North America, 1680) and in Italy by Giovanni Giacomo de Rossi (America Settentrionale, 1677).42 4.2 Cartography under Iroquois Attacks: A New Discourse by Francesco Giuseppe Bressani
In the mid-seventeenth century French exploration, as well as Jesuit attempts to penetrate deeper into the continent, was hampered by trade protectionism of the Hurons and their allies, and by the war with the Iroquois, who started to attack Jesuit missions among the Hurons and French cities in Quebec. However, the Jesuits continued their explorations despite these circumstances. One of the Jesuits who worked among the Hurons in the 1640s was the Italian-born Jesuit Father Fran-
cesco Giuseppe Bressani.43 After arriving in New France in 1642, he was first assigned to Trois-Rivières (in the present-day province of Quebec), and from there he was sent to serve with the Huron missions. In April 1644, while on his way to the Huron country, he was captured by Mohawk warriors near Fort Richelieu. They took Bressani to their village and ritually tortured and mutilated him. He was finally ransomed by Dutch traders from Fort Orange (Albany) and returned to France, where he arrived in November 1644. As early as 1645 he was back in Huronia, where he served until 1649, when most of the missions were destroyed in attacks by the Iroquois. It was a very difficult time. Many Jesuits and natives alike were murdered in the frequent Iroquois attacks. In 1646 the Iroquois killed Isaac Jogues and Jean de Lalande.44 When in July 1648 the Iroquois killed or captured about seven hundred Hurons, the Jesuits started to consider relocating to a safer place.45 In the autumn of 1648 the Jesuits founded the missions of Saint Pierre and Saint Charles on the Isle de Sainte Marie (present-day Manitoulin Island, in Ontario).46 In the spring of 1649 attacks were especially violent, resulting in numerous casualties and fourteen abandoned Huron villages. Brébeuf and other missionaries were captured and ritually tortured and killed. After Brébeuf ’s martyrdom, the Jesuits founded the mission of Sainte Marie II on Christian Island in order to relocate some of the Hurons there.47 Eventually, the constant attacks resulted in the dispersal of the Hurons and their displacement to Quebec in 1650. It was not until the peace between the French and the Iroquois, which was Cartography under Iroquois Attacks
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F igur e 115. Map of New France compiled by Francesco Giuseppe Bressani in 1657 and characterized by particularly vivid Jesuit iconography. (Österreichische Nationalbibliothek)
made in 1654, that the eastern Great Lakes were reopened to exploration and Jesuit missionary activities.48 Broken, Bressani left New France by 1650 and decided that he had to record the tragic events he had witnessed. His Breve Relatione were published in Italy in 1653.49 This narrative was soon followed by a map of New France, published in 1657 (fig. 115).50 The map was not signed by Bressani, but because he had announced it in his narrative, we know for certain that it was his work. The final sentences of Bressani’s Breve Relatione read: “The whole would have been made clearer with the map which I was hoping to add here, but it is not ready.
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Those who shall desire it (the map) can have it a little while later, in separate form, with pictures of the Barbarians and their cruelties.”51 Although published four years after the narrative, the Breve Relatione and the map are closely related. The map shows New France exactly as it was described in the Breve Relatione. The map, which shows the whole of New France, clearly revealed the Bressani’s terrifying memories of the destruction of the Huron missions and the martyrdom of his colleagues. For the first time, the Jesuit cartography of New France engaged in a new kind of discourse, one that strongly affected the map’s iconography. A large il-
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lustration occupying about a quarter of the map depicts the martyrdom of Jean de Brébeuf and Gabriel Lalemant. To the left of this scene is an additional column of small drawings presenting other Jesuit martyrs: Isaac Jogues, Jean de Lalande, René Goupil, Noël Chabanel, Antoine Daniel, Charles Garnier, Anne de la Nouë, Jacques Buteux, Joseph Onahare, and Léonard Garreau. Bressani was probably the first to thematize martyrdom in cartography (see again section 1.7 on iconography). In the upper right-hand corner, another illustration presents a counterpoint to the first one, showing a converted native family praying under a celestial cross. Confronting the image of horror with the image of redemption, this scene seems to indicate that, despite the difficulties and the numerous martyrdoms, the faith was victorious. Barbarism, it says, is not inherent to Indians— it is the absence of revelation that causes their cruel behavior.52 Bressani confirms the absence of condemnation or bitterness toward the local population by adding other illustrations to the map in which the native people are shown engaged in their daily activities— dancing, hunting, canoeing, attending to their children, and preparing food. Their dwellings (longhouses), costumes, council, and forts are presented as well. The map as a whole relies upon previous maps, particularly the work of Sanson. We know for fact that Bressani was familiar with at least one of Sanson’s maps. In his Breve Relatione (Macerata, 1653), Bressani stated, “I have given it (the Great Lakes, op. a) according to the new chart or map which has been recently engraved at Paris— on which
are seen the many and vast lakes which furnish the water necessary to the great river of St. Lawrence.”53 No doubt Bressani here refers to Sanson map Amérique septentrionale (Paris, 1650). The Bressani map was published in 1657, and its content provides evidence that he made use of Sanson’s 1656 map of New France as well. It is possible that the two mapmakers actually met in Paris, for Bressani spent some time at the Collège du Moulins in 1651. Bressani’s graticule of latitude and longitude mostly coincides with Sanson’s. However, it should be noted that Bressani himself also had excellent scientific training. Frequently in his narrative he speaks of eclipses and of his observations of the sky, as well as of the distance of the American coast from Europe.54 In the copy of the map which is kept in Modena, and which contains the explanation note, Bressani speaks of himself “as an author who spent more than ten years [sic] with compass and quadrant in his hands, observing diverse eclipses with exactness of minutes and seconds.”55 After introducing himself, he continues with a detailed discussion of the magnetic declination in Europe and across the Atlantic, as well as of the latitude and longitude of Quebec and the Huron country. Bressani was very knowledgeable about the land he was mapping and was therefore able to include on his map a great deal of new information unavailable on earlier maps, especially in regard to the population and settlements, since it was compiled after the Iroquois raids of the 1640s and early 1650s. The presentation of North America begins with the Strait of Belle Isle, in which
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a French sailboat is shown heading toward the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. The names— Port Royal (Portus Regius), Bay of Fundy (sinus Francius), and Mount Desert Island (Insula montium desertorum)— recall the first attempts of the Jesuits to settle in North America. The English had seized Acadia in 1654, gaining control over Newfoundland, which is shown accordingly as Insula Britonis. The French territory north of the Saint Lawrence River, between Quebec and the Jesuit mission at Tadoussac, is designated Nova Picardia, probably owing to the origin in Picardy of the founder of Tadoussac, Father Jean de Quen. In the territory under French rule, he designated all European towns and forts, while settlements of the local nations were indicated with their native names. Eight place-names that are marked with a cross seem to refer to Jesuit missions, mostly those visited by Bressani: Quebec City (Kebec), Sillery or Saint Joseph (Sillery seu S. Jos.), Trois-Rivières (Confluentia 3fl), Montreal (M. Reg), Gannentaha (without a name), and Colonia Ronsellaria, which refers to the Dutch settlement Rensselaerwijk, founded near Fort Orange (later Albany) in 1631, where the Iroquois delivered Bressani in 1644.56 In the inset map there is also a cross on the Sainte Marie mission on Christian Island. However, there is no cross on Tadoussac, a mission established among the Montagnais in 1641. At the confluence of the Richelieu and Saint Lawrence Rivers, Fort Richelieu (arx Richelea) is indicated only by its name, since it was burned down by the Iroquois in 1647. The cross on the name of Quebec is higher than the others, probably to highlight its central administrative and religious role. Native settlements 302
without a mission are designated with the symbol of a tent. Regarding the presentation of the Great Lakes, Bressani relied mostly upon Sanson’s maps, with the exception of the Bruce Peninsula and Georgian Bay, which completely coincide with how they are shown on Brébeuf ’s map of Huronia. A final confirmation of Brébeuf’s influence can be seen in Bressani’s inset map, Hvronvm Explicata Tabvla, which is simply a copy of Brébeuf ’s map. Regarding the presentation of the watercourses, Bressani supplemented the map with information based on his own observations and findings. Presenting a route from Montreal to the Huron country that follows the Ottawa and Mattawa Rivers, Lake Nipissing, and the French River and ends at Georgian Bay, Bressani numbered no fewer than thirty waterfalls. To the south and east of the Great Lakes, Bressani presented native territories as well as the European colonies of Virginia, New Sweden (Nova Svecia), New Belgium (Novum Belgium), and New England (Nova Anglia). On the site of New York City, Bressani designated the Dutch colony as Manhate. Arx Ba[ta]varum— Manhattan, the Fort of the Dutch. Aware that seven years had passed since his departure, Bressani added information he received after he had left on the establishment of the Jesuits’ Huron colony on Île d’Orléans (marked as I. Aureliana) in April 1651 and extended in 1654, as well as on the martyrdoms of Father Buteux in 1652 and Father Garreau in 1656. Bressani was the first to record the earliest missions to the Iroquois (marked Hirochii).57 The mission of Sainte Marie de Gannentaha (among the Iroquois), founded in 1656, appears on the
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map for the first time (marked by a cross but unlabeled). Bressani also made a note on several other villages of the Seneca, Onondaga, Cayuga, and Oneida nations, which had been contacted by the Jesuits in 1656.58 Because the Iroquois missions were abandoned beginning 1658, Bressani’s map is even more important as evidence of their existence. Bressani’s presentation of New France at the time of the devastating war with the Iroquois is an authentic document testifying to the tragic events that characterized mid-seventeenth-century North America. The numerous native place-names documented in the local languages, as well as the topography of the terrain, demonstrate the significant development of geographical knowledge of the region. His cartography showed unprecedented accuracy that was not to be surpassed until 1670, serving as a graphic testimonial to the explorations and cartographic skills of members of the Jesuit order. Bressani’s map was immediately acknowledged as the most reliable source of information on the geography of New France, and it therefore served as the main template used by European cartographers who wanted to produce reliable maps of that part of the New World.59 Bressani’s map and its vivid iconography also marked a new phase in the Jesuit cartography of New France, one characterized by a stronger influence of the Catholic Church and the Jesuit order and reflected in symbols of the faith and illustrations of martyrdom. However, with Bressani’s map, that phase would also come to an end, as the French Jesuit mapmakers of the second half of the seventeenth century would again turn to
exploratory cartography, leaving issues of religious enlightenment in the background. 4.3 Mapping the Western Great Lakes (Huron, Michigan, and Superior)
In 1654 the peace between the Iroquois and the French reopened the Great Lakes for exploration and mapping. However, the long war, as well as the poor governance of the colony by trading companies, halted the progress of New France. The colony, founded half a century earlier by Samuel de Champlain, was weak and destitute. The newly crowned French King Louis XIV (1643– 1715) decided to do something about it, and in 1663 New France became royal property. The governor’s powers were reduced, and the colony was reorganized administratively. An important role was given to the intendant, as a representative of the king, in the administration of justice, police, and finances. The introduction of the new constitution in 1663 was soon followed by the revocation of the charter of the Company of One Hundred Associates and the establishment of a new sovereign council. The need for more vigorous colonization and territorial expansion was declared, and the newly appointed intendant of New France, Jean Talon, educated by the Jesuits in Paris, set in motion an ambitious exploration program. His order for exploration was addressed to state (military) officers as well as to officers of the Church, represented in the field by missionaries. This reorganization of New France spurred the process of exploration and mapping that would take place in the decades to come. The reign of Louis XIV, and especially the Mapping the Western Great Lakes
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period of the intendancy of Jean Talon (1665– 68 and 1670– 72), was a great era for French cartography, in which mapping became an important tool of colonial administration. Jesuit schools, as well as the Jesuits themselves, played a significant role in the state and in its colonies. In return, the state protected and fostered the Church, and especially the Jesuits. Talon wanted to halt the expansion of the British, who controlled the Atlantic seaboard and Hudson Bay, so he initiated exploration toward the interior, where the Great Lakes were the main feature of the country. Many of these explorations were conducted by the Jesuits. Because the eastern Great Lakes were already known, from the mid-seventeenth century onward much more attention was paid to the western lakes. The Jesuit explorations that took place there during the 1660s and early 1670s resulted in new maps that significantly improved geographical knowledge of the western Great Lakes. Driven by their exploratory spirit, but also lured by the potential of the fur trade, the traders Médard Chouart des Groseilliers and Pierre-Esprit Radisson undertook a journey to Lake Superior in 1658– 59. Although they were not the first Europeans on the lake, they brought back enough furs and information to spur others to follow them. Upon their return to Quebec, they were interviewed by the Jesuits about their discoveries. The information gathered from them was then incorporated in The Jesuit Relations.60 Their testimony inspired the Jesuits to start their own exploration of Lake Superior. The unfortunate journey of Father René Ménard, who spent 1660– 61 on Lake Supe304
rior without leaving any permanent trace there, was followed by those of another Jesuit, Claude-Jean Allouez,61 to whom we owe the earliest reliable description of the western Great Lakes. Starting in 1665, Allouez first explored the south shore of Lake Superior and managed to open a mission at Pointe du Saint Esprit. A few years later, Allouez would be joined by two other more prominent Jesuits who would accompany him in the exploration of Lake Superior. The first of them was Father Claude Dablon.62 After being named superior of the western missions, whose center was Sault Sainte Marie, Dablon made a journey around Lake Superior with Father Allouez. At that time Dablon was already an experienced explorer (in 1661 he accompanied Father Gabriel Druillettes on an overland expedition to Hudson Bay). The third member of the party that explored Lake Superior was the young Father Jacques Marquette.63 After joining Father Dablon in the establishment at Sault Sainte Marie in 1668, he was transferred to the western extremity of Lake Superior a year later, founding at La Pointe du Saint Esprit in Chequamegon Bay a mission that ministered to refugee Ottawa and Huron tribesmen from the shores of Lake Huron and Georgian Bay. In 1671, having become involved in a quarrel with the Sioux, he abandoned Saint Esprit and fled to Lake Michigan, where he founded the mission of Saint Ignace on the north shore of the straits of Michilimackinac. The exploration of these three Jesuit fathers resulted in probably the most important map of the Great Lakes. Between 1669 and 1671 Allouez, accompanied by Marquette, compiled a map of the Great
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F igur e 116. Map of the Great Lakes prepared by Claude-Jean Allouez and Jacques Marquette. It is the third stage of their map, finalized about 1671 and printed in the Relation de ce qui s’est passé . . . en la Nouvelle France (Paris, 1673). (MacLean Collection)
Lakes that became widely known after it was published in the Relation de ce qui s’est passé en la Nouvelle France (fig. 116).64 Apart from its printed edition, at least two manuscript versions of that map are preserved as well, giving us insight into the development of the exploration and mapping process. The first of them has the title Lac Tracy ou Supérieur avec les dépendances de la Mission du Saint Esprit, which indicates that it predates the other map: the mission of Saint Esprit mentioned in the title was abandoned in 1671, whereupon it ceased to be the center of the western missions, as it had
been since 1665.65 Also, the mission of Saint Francis Xavier, established in 1669, does not appear in this edition (however, inconsistently, the other two missions established in 1671, Saint Ignace and Saint Simon, are marked on this map). One more fact indicates the precedence of this map: in its title, Lake Superior is still designated Lac Tracy, referring to the expedition by the Marquis de Tracy (1665– 67). But by 1671 the interest in this great name was in decline, and the name “Superior,” also in use, prevailed.66 These facts could indicate that this manuscript copy was created before the 1671 map Mapping the Western Great Lakes
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(which the title certainly suggests), most probably about 1669, while the two missions founded in 1671 were added onto this map afterward, sometime in 1671. The other preserved copy of the manuscript supports this speculation. In it, the title of the map was already corrected— that is, adapted to the situation after 1671— but the content of the map remained the same (nonetheless, the Saint Francis Xavier mission was still missing).67 The third stage of the map is the aforementioned printed edition, published in the Relation de ce qui s’est passé, in which all three missions established after 1669 were marked, as well as the appropriate title, and it corresponds to the state of 1671. In this respect, only the printed edition of the 1671 map, published in the Relation de ce qui s’est passé (Paris, 1672 and 1673), represents the finalized version of the map, the analysis of which I present below. This Jesuit map contains a strikingly good depiction of Lake Superior and the northern parts of Lakes Michigan (Lac des Illinois) and Huron, showing the locations of Jesuit missions and the names of the local nations. It was constructed using a compass for direction and a quadrant or astrolabe for measuring the declination of heavenly bodies. Because of instrument error, the map locates places about a degree farther south than the true sites. An error in their calculation of the distances resulted not only in the inaccurate placement of the lake on the coordinate grid but also in its inaccurate size. In general, the entire Lake Superior is shown as nearly 2.6 times larger than its actual size, reflecting the challenges that early cartographers faced when using their instruments in the field.68 The map is com306
piled at a scale of about 1:2,000,000. When the map was analyzed using the software MapAnalyst, the smallest distortion was found in the places where the missions were located (Saint Esprit, Saint Ignace, Saint Francis Xavier, and Sault Sainte Marie). Obviously, the fathers conducted most of their astronomical observations from their missions,69 while the rest of their presentation was based on calculating the distances from the missions outward. The biggest distortion is in the outline of the northeast shore of Lake Superior and along the easternmost edge of the map (Manitoulin Island in Lake Huron). There is some controversy about the authorship of the map. The map itself is not signed, and therefore various authors have attributed it to different cartographers.70 Claude Dablon claims in his report that the map was “drawn by two Fathers of considerable intelligence, much given to research, and very exact, who determined to set down nothing that they had not seen with their own eyes.”71 One of them was likely Allouez, while the other may well have been Marquette. This supports the notion that the map should be considered to have been coauthored by Marquette and Allouez. Yet, because Dablon took part in the expedition as well, he might have contributed to the map, supplying the first two fathers with additional information gathered by himself and by other Jesuits. His accounts, in which he describes Lake Superior, confirm this presumption.72 However, it should also be stated that each of the three— Marquette, Dablon, and Allouez— mentioned in his account many place-names, geographical features, and names of the native groups
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that are not included in their map. For example, Dablon in his report elaborates extensively on the copper deposits that are not marked on the map.73 This could further affirm that this map was a collective work to which each of them contributed. For the first time, this map presents the whole Lake Superior area as well as the complex intersection of Lakes Superior, Huron, and Michigan. Lake Superior is given its recognizable shape, with the Keweenav and Chequamegon peninsulas on the south shore and Isle Royal (Minong), Saint Ignace Island (unnamed), and Nipigon Bay on the north. The note “R. [rivière] par où l’on va aux Assinipoualacs à 120 lieues vers le Nord-Ouest” (River by which one travels to the Assinipoualacs 120 leagues to the northwest) confirms that the exploration had already reached the northern part of Lake Superior, as attested by Lake Nipigon, drawn at the very edge of the map. Bayfield Peninsula, labeled La pointe du St. Esprit, and the Apostle Islands are clearly noted on the southwestern shore. The mission of Saint Esprit, established at Chequamegon Bay in 1665, was the base for the exploration of the westernmost part of the lake. Near present-day Duluth, a river entering the lake is indicated with the explanation “the river goes to the Nandouessi [Sioux] 60 leagues toward the sunset.” The dotted line running from the missions toward the south, which is labeled “Chemin aux Illinois à 150 lieues vers le Midy,” probably refers to the route Allouez took to Lake Michigan. The presentation of Lake Michigan is completely new and based largely on Allouez’s and Marquette’s findings. The map
clarifies the relation between Lake Michigan and Green Bay (Baye des Puans). Allouez was the first to explore Green Bay and the entire Door Peninsula, which divides Green Bay from the rest of Lake Michigan (labeled Lac des Ilinois). The large archipelago at the entrance of the Baye des Puans is doubtless an exaggeration of a small group of islands, then called the Huron, as some Hurons took refuge there.74 Together with Dablon, Allouez headed the south, crossing Lake Winnebago and following the Fox River as far as the settlement of the Mascouten (Fire Nation) and the Miami.75 Evidence of this journey can be found on their map. The presentation of Lake Winnebago and the Fox River, as well as of the village of the Mascouten, fully coincides with their findings. In 1669 Allouez founded the mission of Saint Francis Xavier near the rapids of the Fox River; the mission would later serve as a base for explorations of the valley of the Upper Mississippi.76 Meanwhile Marquette, fleeing from the Sioux, explored the southeast extension of Lake Michigan and its connection to Lake Huron, where he founded the mission of Saint Ignace in 1671, while the mission of Saint Simon, founded on Manitoulin Island, was assigned to his Jesuit confrere Louis André. All these missions are designated on the printed version of the map. At the same time, no attempt was made on this map to show the Mississippi River or a route leading to it, indicating that the river had not yet been explored. As part of its preparation for print, the map was accompanied by a decorative cartouche. The French royal coat of arms of Henry IV in the top left-hand corner clearly demonstrates the close alliance between the Mapping the Western Great Lakes
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church and the state in seventeenth-century France. Soon after it was published in 1672 and 1673, this Jesuit map became one of the most influential maps of the entire epoch. It was to serve as the main template not only for Jesuit but also for numerous military and state maps, as well for European commercial cartography. The last major exploration and mapping of the Great Lakes before Marquette’s famous journey to the Mississippi was the circumnavigation of “Ontario Island” during 1669– 70 by two Sulpicians, Dollier de Casson and René de Bréhant de Galinée.77 Because the original purpose of the trip was to find a suitable place for their mission in the country of the Ohio, they explored and mapped Lake Ontario. Galinée’s original map, Carte du lac Ontario, dated 1670, has not survived, but several good copies exist, the most notable being those by François Vachon de Belmont (1680), Claude Delisle (ca. 1700), and Pierre-Louis Morin (1854).78 Although in this period the Jesuits were mainly focused on missionization and on the mapping of the large western lakes, they played a significant role in further advancing knowlede of the Lake Ontario area and the Iroquois country. Their missions among the Iroquois had already been abandoned, but during the 1660s the Jesuits sought to renew their presence in those villages. The map of the Iroquois country, published in the report by the Jesuit Father François le Mercier of 1664– 65, attess to their endeavors.79 The map shows the Richelieu River, Lake Champlain, Lake George, the Iroquois country, and the Hudson River (fig. 117).80 Although the presentation of the Saint Lawrence River and its 308
tributaries is now apparently improved, the presentation of Lake Ontario as well as of five Iroquois nation villages relies heavily upon Bressani’s map. Superimposed on the map are the ground plans of the three forts. It accompanied the description of the Iroquois country and the forts being constructed at strategic points along the Richelieu River by the French army. The map is anonymous, but it bears some resemblance to the work of Canada’s first state cartographer, Jean Bourdon, who was appointed engineer to the Company of New France in 1634.81 Although it was most certainly created for military purposes, the map was also, to a large extent, based on information gathered by the Jesuits. It is well-known that Bourdon was accompanied on his journey by the Jesuit Father Isaac Jouges,82 and the map is undoubtedly a result of that trip. Describing his journey with Bourdon, in his letter of on September 12, 1646, Jouges said, “We ( Jogues and Bourdon) make a fairly exact map of these countries,” thus testifying to their cooperation and to the possible coauthorship of their map.83 Jogues was the first European to name Lake George, calling it Lac du Saint Sacrement (Lake of the Holy Sacrament). 4.4 Jacques Marquette and His Breakthrough to the Mississippi River
The arrival of Jacques Marquette marked a turning point in the history of exploring and mapping New France. Not only did Marquette contribute significantly to the mapping of the Great Lakes region, but, thanks to him, for the first time explorations would be directed toward the Mis-
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F igur e 117. The map of the Iroquois country published in the report by the Jesuit Father François le Mercier of 1664– 65, which strongly relies on the Jesuits’ geographic knowledge of the region. (MacLean Collection)
sissippi River as well. Information about the existence of a large river to the south of the Great Lakes had been known for some time. During his service at the Saint Esprit mission, Marquette encountered members of the Illinois nation who told him about a great river that drained either west or south of the region. Dablon also attests to this, writing in his 1670– 71 diary that he heard of a great river, which came from the north and flowed toward the south, and was called Mississippi by the natives, and which could have its mouth only in the Florida Sea or in California, more than four hundred
leagues away.84 That information continued to feed the hope that a Northwest Passage to the Pacific, and thus to China, remained undiscovered. French officials therefore commissioned Marquette and Louis Jolliet (1645– 1700), a French explorer and cartographer,85 to explore the region and claim that vast stretch of land for the French crown. Thus, in May– July 1673, Marquette and Jolliet were the first Europeans to descend the Mississippi River, from the Great Lakes to its confluence with the Arkansas River. Their main objective was to locate a passage
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to the Pacific Ocean. However, they soon realized that the Mississippi flowed south to the Gulf of Mexico, rather than west to the Pacific Ocean. They interrupted their journey in present-day Arkansas, having been warned by the Quapaw people of the presence of Spanish colonists to the south. They then turned back, following the Mississippi back to the mouth of the Illinois River, which, as they learned from the local natives, provided a shorter route back to the Great Lakes. They reached Lake Michigan near the site of modern-day Chicago by way of the Chicago Portage in late August. By October 1673 they had reached Green Bay, Wisconsin. Marquette remained there, but Jolliet continued on to Sault Sainte Marie and later to Montreal. His trip was disaster: his canoe overturned; all his expedition documents, including his maps, were lost; and Jolliet barely escaped with his life. At the same time, following his return from the Mississippi expedition, Marquette managed to finalize his own map. Strangely enough, Marquette’s manuscript map did survive but, owing to an unexpected turn of historical events, was considered lost for many years. Marquette died in 1675, and his papers were retrieved by his followers and taken back to Quebec. After the Jesuits were expelled from Canada, many documents were left in Quebec. Those documents were deposited with the nuns of the Hôtel-Dieu in Quebec and looked after until they were given back to the Jesuits in the 1840s upon their return to Canada. These documents included Marquette’s diary of the 1673 expedition, the journal of his voyage to the Illinois tribes in 1674– 75, an account of the work of Allouez in 1676, and 310
Marquette’s autograph map (plate 42).86 Soon after their rediscovery, these documents, together with the autograph map, were published in a very rare limited edition in 1852.87 This edition was soon followed by a French edition, in which Marquette’s accounts, along with his autograph map, were published.88 However, while the Canadian copy of Marquette’s papers remained hidden until the mid-nineteenth century, another copy of his documents, including a map based on Marquette’s autograph, safely reached France soon after his death. The papers were immediately recognized as important evidence of the French exploration of America; they were published in Paris by Estienne Michallet as early as 1681.89 A map derived from Marquette’s autograph tipped into this limitededition book is the oldest known printed version of Marquette’s map. This edition of Marquette’s map was reprinted in The Jesuit Relations, vol. 59 (map facing p. 108). Marquette’s autograph map of 1673 shows the entire region from Lake Superior and Lake Michigan (Lac des Illinois) to the Gulf of Mexico. Because he was traveling in completely unknown territory, Marquette paid special attention to the calculation of latitude and longitude. Therefore, this map was accompanied by a graticule of not only latitude— as was the case with his 1671 map— but also longitude: the points at the top of the drawing indicate thirteen degrees for the entire width of the map (the prime meridian is not indicated). As the main template, Marquette used his 1669 manuscript map of the lakes as a starting point, extending it toward the south and supplementing the new map with the course of
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the Mississippi River and its connection to Lake Michigan.90 Since the map focuses on the presentation of the Mississippi and its connection to Lake Michigan, it does not contain much of the toponymy. Only a few native villages are named along the river, including the names of the local nations in its hinterland. While the presentation of Lake Superior closely conforms to that on his 1669 and 1671 maps, Lake Michigan shows its new outlines: its western and southern shores are now fully defined, and only the eastern side of the lake is drafted hypothetically, shown by a dotted line. Although he obviously strove to take a step forward in outlining Lake Michigan, his knowledge of it was still insufficient. Therefore, the presentation of Lake Michigan is actually the weakest point of his map. The shape of the entire lake is greatly distorted; Green Bay is placed too far to the southwest, and consequently, Lake Winnebago is shown too far to the south. This, however, appears to be due to the influence of the 1669 and 1671 maps, where these defects can be found as well. The body of Lake Michigan stretches too far to the south, at 40°20′ (its southern end is actually at 41°35′). The proportions are better observed on the Mississippi River, given the usual shift of latitudes toward the south. South of Green Bay, the presentations of the Fox and the Wolf Rivers, as well as that of Lake Winnebago, mostly coincide with those on the Lac Supérieur map. However, nothing further south had ever been mapped. The Wisconsin River (recorded as Meskousing in his account), which connects the Fox and the Mississippi Rivers, as well as the River de la Conception, which we know today as
the Mississippi, are presented on a map for the first time ever.91 This is also true of the Mississippi’s tributaries, the Des Moines (indicated without a name), the Pekitanoui (Missouri), the Ouabouskigou (Ohio), and the Arkansas Rivers (without a name). The presentation of the Mississippi River on Marquette’s map ends at its confluence with the Arkansas River at about 34° north, while the Gulf of Mexico appears at 31°40′ (in reality, the Mississippi Delta is located near 29° north latitude). According to the map accuracy analysis performed by the Canadian scholar Lucien Campeau, the average deviation in determining latitude on this map is between forty and eighty minutes.92 These deviations in determining latitude are probably due to the inability to correct the measurement results because changes in elevation. Apart from the names of the Jesuit missions in the Great Lakes region (Saint Ignace, Saint Esprit, and Sault Sainte Marie), there are thirty-three names of local nations written in capital letters, which Marquette learned mostly from the natives. At the southern end of Green Bay, they saw the Potawatomis (Poutéouatamis) on the left and the Outagamis on the right. After passing Lake Winnebago, up the Renard River (Fox River) they found a village of Mascoutens on the south shore. According to Marquette’s diary, they took on guides there. Then they had to wait at Péouaréa, on the right bank of the Des Moines River, to see the other natives, the Illinois. While following the course of the Mississippi south, they heard about several native nations living in the hinterland of the river: north of 40° latitude, Marquette noted the
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Moïngouena, Otontanta, Pana, Marna, and Pahoutet; and to the south, Ochagé, Ouemessourit, Kansa, and Paniassa. After they passed the Pekitanoui (Missouri) farther east of the river, Marquette noted the existence of the Maroa, while east of the Ouabouskigou (Ohio River) he heard about the Chaouanon, Kakinonha, and Matahali. Those names were given to him when he was captured in a Monsoupelea village on the left bank of the river. When he reached a village of the Metchigamea, he heard the names of other nations living west of the river: Tanikoua, Aiaichi, Mamoueta, Papikaha, Paniassa, Akoroa, Marora, and Atotchasi. The southernmost village on the Mississippi that Marquette noted is that of the Akanséa; far to the east of that village the habitat of the Apistonga nation is noted. On their way back, they explored and mapped the Illinois River, which he erroneously extended toward the east, presenting it as directly connected to Lake Michigan. This error in the presentation of the source of the Illinois River may have been caused by high water from the south branch of the Chicago River through Mud Lake, into the Des Plaines River, and then to the Illinois River, and may have led Marquette to conclude erroneously that the source of the Illinois River was in Lake Michigan.93 Near the Illinois River Marquette noted a native village of Kaskaskia. Along the western shore of Lake Michigan Marquette outlined four smaller rivers flowing into the lake, which probably represented the Sheboygan, the Milwaukee, the Menominee, and the Racine Rivers. All of these hydrographic and ethnographic elements that Marquette managed to include in his map gave entirely 312
new insight into the physical and human geography of the Mississippi River basin. What gives particular value to Marquette’s map is his effort to record the authentic toponyms exactly as he heard them from the local nations. By mapping the outlines of the Mississippi River valley, Marquette enabled further exploration, which soon led to the French claiming the entire region, known from 1682 onward as La Louisiane. As already mentioned, soon after his death Marquette’s autograph map was copied and sent to France. Evidence for this is found in three manuscript maps, which are now held in Paris. All are derived from Marquette’s 1673 autograph map and served as a template for a printed edition of Marquette’s map, published in 1681. The first of those two maps is kept in the Service historique de la Défense at Vincennes, among the maps of the former Service hydrographique de la Marine. The map dates to about 1675. Probably drafted in Paris, it summarizes the explorations of the Mississippi and those of the Great Lakes.94 Although sometimes attributed to Bernou, this map strongly resembles Marquette’s autograph map in several points. The north– south course of the Illinois River at its junction with the Mississippi River, the shape of Lake Michigan (Lac des Ilinois), and the specific shapes of the Door Peninsula and Green Bay coincide exactly with how these are represented on Marquette’s autograph.95 In most cases, the spellings of the names of the local nations follow exactly those of Marquette (even repeating some of his misspellings). However, the map of 1675 shows many improvements of the basic outline of Marquette’s template. The course of the Mississippi River is now
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extended to the northwest. Besides the Wisconsin River, several other tributaries of the Upper Mississippi are noted on this map, including these presenting the Chippewa and the Saint Croix Rivers. A waterfall (soult) is indicated here, but its presentation is not accurate enough to show any resemblance to the later journey of Father Louis Hennepin, who in 1680 became the first to discover a waterfall in this locality.96 The Mississippi is now called the Colbert River, after Jean-Baptiste Colbert.97 The presentation of Lake Superior is based on the famous 1671 map, but it is also updated with information from more recent explorations, especially the presentation of the region north of Lake Superior, which was not included in the 1671 map. The presentation of this northern region was based on Allouez and his exploration of Lake Nipigon (Lac Alimibig), as well as the information he heard from the natives. He noted that “one of their old men declared to me that he had himself seen, at the mouth of the River Assinipoualac, some peoples allied to the Kilistinouc, whose country is still farther northward. . . . he had also seen a house which the Europeans had built on the mainland, out of boards and pieces of wood.”98 According to this statement, the author of the map added a note near the mouth of the Assinepouel (today’s Nelson River) at Hudson Bay saying, “The Kilistinons say that they saw a large vessel that wintered at the mouth of this river, they had made a house on one side and on the other a fort of wood.”99 The inclusion of Hudson Bay, especially its southernmost end, James Bay, reflects the French attempt to claim this part of the territory after the Hudson’s
Bay Company chartered it in 1670. Its presentation is probably based on the expedition that Fathers Charles Albanel and Paul Denys de Saint-Simon made in 1671– 72.100 The appearance of the Lac des Assinibouels and the Lac des Christinaux (Kilistinons), which probably represent Lakes Winnipeg, Manitoba, and Winnipegosis of today, attests to the fact that the French reached the northeastern plain prior to the 1680s. Besides faithfully displaying the results of Jesuit exploration, this map also contains some additional information typical only of Jesuit cartography. All missions are marked with a cross (many without their particular names). The site of the 1661 death of Father René Ménard is marked with a cross and a note saying, “Here died Father Meynard.” According to Jesuit accounts, Ménard reportedly died in the state of Wisconsin, on the right bank of a small river that flowed south of the mission of Saint Esprit. That brief note testifies to Jesuit involvement in this map: only the Jesuits could have put such a precise note on the map. It can thus be concluded that this map, which compiles the results from the explorations of the Great Lakes and the Mississippi River conducted during the 1660s and 1670s, even if it was not drawn by the hand of a Jesuit, was without doubt compiled based on Jesuit sources, among which Marquette’s autograph map played an important role. Two other manuscript maps kept in Paris testify to the fact that Marquette’s work reached France soon after his death. These two manuscript copies, usually designated as Manitoumie I and Manitoumie II, are almost identical maps that differ mostly in their cartouches (Manitoumie II has a
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title written in the cartouche, which is decorated with figures of a Jesuit priest and a native couple, while on Manitoumie I the title is placed in a simple rectangular frame). According to their titles, these two maps were undoubtedly derived from Marquette’s 1673 autograph map of the Mississippi (plate 43).101 Though undated, they were certainly prepared before 1681: these were the manuscripts from which the first printed edition of Marquette’s map was published in 1681. The maps in question are color manuscripts oriented with north on the right, and they show the Mississippi River and its tributaries from the Gulf of Mexico all the way to Lake Michigan. Jolliet and Marquette called the whole region Manitoumie, a native American term referring to manitous (Indian spirits). Though somewhat supplemented and drawn in a different graphic style, adjusted to suit the requirements of publication, these maps rely upon Marquette’s autograph map of 1673. They are accompanied by a scale, a graticule of latitude (29°– 45° north), and an expedition route (both outbound and incoming). The copies include some new information taken from Marquette’s diary that was not included in Marquette’s manuscript map, especially the notes added about the region’s natural resources. On several places on the map there are notes about mines of copper (mine de cuivre), coal (charbon déterre), and iron (mines de fer) that correspond exactly to notes in Marquette’s diary. However, the Manitoumie maps also show evidence of information extracted from some other sources, which were used to supplement Marquette’s template. In the region east of the Mississippi, near its con314
fluence with the Missouri, there is a note about the “manitou statue where the savages practice adoration.” This information could not have come from Marquette’s diary; it was obtained from Allouez’s. In his account of 1672, Father Allouez mentioned an idol of stone that he had rolled into the water, but that happened on the Fox River, between the Bay of Puans and Lake Winnebago.102 A new portage on Lake Michigan is also drawn according to Allouez’s report of 1677.103 Nevertheless, the information with which an unknown author attempted to supplement Marquette’s autograph map did not always contribute to the map’s accuracy. The course of the Mississippi River, much more accurately represented on Marquette’s autograph map, was corrected here in line with Jolliet’s information recorded on a map prepared by Jean-Baptiste-Louis Franquelin.104 The native land east and west of the Mississippi is presented as grazing areas rich with “wild ox” (bison), represented by two rudimentary drawings. The confusing inscription inserted in the region between Arkansas and Missouri, describing it as the area inhabited by “nations that have horses and camels,” did not come from Marquette. According to Lucien Campeau, it was taken from Jean-Baptiste-Louis Franquelin’s 1678 map Carte généralle de la France Septentrionalle, which has a camel drawn at the same place.105 It is hard to explain why the author neglected Marquette’s autograph map, much better in all respects, and gave preference to those of Jolliet (i.e., Franquelin), which are full of major errors. The answer probably lies in the aesthetics: Franquelin’s graphically advanced map looked more convincing than Marquette’s
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F igur e 118. First printed edition of Jacques Marquette’s map of the Mississippi River, published by Estienne Michallet (Paris, 1681). (MacLean Collection)
crude autograph. Nevertheless, it was the manuscript map that was known as Manitoumie I that served as a template for the first printed map of the Mississippi River based on information from Marquette’s expedition, which was printed by Estienne Michallet in Paris in 1681 (fig. 118).106 Thus, paradoxically, Marquette’s exploration work on mapping the Mississippi became widely known precisely on the basis of a map that relied very little upon Marquette’s original. Owing to the aforementioned Paris edition, the same or a similar representation of the Mississippi was included in numerous maps of North America, the information having been taken from Marquette’s and Jolliet’s expeditions. The most powerful echoes of their work were found in the cartographic syntheses of 1681 attributed to Jean-Baptiste-Louis Franquelin and Abbé Claude Bernou.107 One of the most attractive seventeenthcentury manuscript maps of the North America that summarizes the explorations
of Dablon, Allouez, Marquette, and Jolliet appeared in 1681.108 It shows French territorial extensions toward the south, including those in the Mississippi valley, and indicates the position of three forts built in 1679 and 1680 by La Salle: Fort Conti (near Niagara Falls), Fort Miami (south of Lake Michigan), and Fort Crevecoeur (on the left bank of the Illinois River). This map, attributed to Jean-Baptiste-Louis Franquelin and Abbé Claude Bernou, contains a large number of names of native nations as noted in Jesuit relations and maps, proving the strong influence of Jesuit knowledge. Owing to the map’s being based on redrawn versions of Marquette’s autograph, such as Manitoumie I, the course of the Mississippi River is shown as an almost straight line, and its presentation ends at its confluence with the Ohio River (Marquette’s expedition reached farther south, at the confluence with the Arkansas river). Although primarily based on Jesuit sources, the presentation of the headwaters of the Missis-
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F igur e 119. Supplemented edition of Jacques Marquette’s map from Pieter van der Aa’s atlas (Leiden, 1714). (MacLean Collection)
sippi is supplemented by the findings of Louis Hennepin and La Salle’s 1675– 80 expedition into the Great Lakes and the Upper Mississippi. When, in 1682, La Salle and the Italian Henri de Tonti descended to the Mississippi Delta, claiming the whole region of La Louisiane for the French King Louis XIV, knowledge of the Mississippi River was greatly revised. Still, long after La Salle’s 1682 expedition, Marquette’s map and his journey maintained its prominent place among European cartographers. A supplemented reprint of Marquette’s famous map of the Mississippi River was included in Pieter van der Aa’s atlas (Leiden, 1714), proving that the Jesuit explorer’s star had 316
not dimmed (fig. 119).109 Not only does the title of the map refer only to the 1763 expedition of Marquette and Jolliet (and not to that of La Salle), but their contribution to the exploration of the Mississippi is further reinforced by the cartouche, which shows the two explorers navigating the river in the canoes as they pass natives gathering wild rice, perhaps in an evocation of the Fox River region.110 4.5 Pierre Raffeix and His Contribution to the Mapping of the Iroquois Country
Marquette’s expedition marked the end of those great expeditions in which Jesuits
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missionaries played an important role in exploring and mapping New France. The administration of Governor Louis de Buade de Frontenac (1672– 82 and 1689– 98) in 1673 introduced a new policy of the French crown toward the Jesuits: they decided to limit the Society’s influence. To that end, they reintroduced the Recollects and Sulpicians as missionaries, while Jesuit missions were placed under the direction of diocesan priests.111 This demotion was reflected in the decline of their cartographic activities. As early as La Salle’s Mississippi expedition in 1682, the leading role in the production of maps of New France was taken by official cartographers and engineers led by JeanBaptiste-Louis Franquelin. After he came to Canada as a trader in 1671, Governor Frontenac recognized his talents and recruited him to draw maps. He served as the official cartographer for La Salle’s expedition and was appointed royal hydrographer in Quebec in 1686, a post he held until 1697 and again from 1701 to 1703.112 Besides teaching hydrography and geography, his main task was to keep the maps of New France up to date. Between 1674 and 1708 Franquelin drew around fifty detailed, illustrated manuscript maps of New France to accompany the governor’s and intendant’s dispatches to France. The dissemination of knowledge of New France from the late 1670s onward relied largely upon Franquelin’s maps, which served as sources of information and templates for many printed maps published in Europe in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. His maps also incorporated Jesuit explorations undertaken after Marquette’s famous expedition. When Guillaume and Claude Delisle published
their famous map, the Carte du Canada ou de la Nouvelle France (Paris, 1703), derived from Franquelin’s sources, vast knowledge based on Jesuit explorations was transferred as well and was thus made available to the European public. The last significant contribution of the Jesuits to the mapping of New France was made by Pierre Raffeix.113 Arriving in Quebec in 1663, he first lived at Sillery, where he learned the Algonkian and Montagnais languages, and in 1666 he was appointed to the Huron mission at Quebec. His missionary tasks soon took him on several expeditions, in the course of which he acquired a great deal of geographical knowledge of the regions he traveled through. In early 1666 he accompanied Governor Rémy de Courcelle’s expedition against the Iroquois, and in September he took part in the expedition led by the Marquis de Tracy. After founding a mission at La Prairie de la Magdeleine in 1668, he went to work among the Senecas. Despite the dangers and difficulties, he remained among them until 1679, when he was called to Quebec as a procurator. On the basis of his voyages, he drafted at least two maps.114 The first one shows the Great Lakes and the Upper Mississippi (plate 44).115 The map covers the region that extends from Lake Superior, from 48° to 35° north latitude, south of the confluence of the Ohio River. The purpose of the map was to present expeditions to the Mississippi River and to illustrate the routes that could be used to reach it. Three voyages are represented: that of Joliet and Marquette in 1673 (Raffeix erroneously gives the date as 1672); Daniel Greysolson, the sieur du Lhut’s exploration
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of the Upper Mississippi of 1678 when he negotiated the with Sioux;116 and La Salle’s voyage to the Illinois River in 1679, during which he founded Fort Crevecoeur on its east bank (a suburb of present-day Peoria). One interesting feature shown on the map is a trail extending from a village of the Senontouans (Senecas) to the source of the Allegheny, whence one may descend to the sea— a route based on information gathered by Raffeix during his sojourn among the Iroquois, or possibly on information derived from La Salle. The map is usually dated 1688 (the original map is undated). However, because Raffeix refers to La Salle’s expedition in which he descended the Mississippi but does not mention La Salle’s expedition to the Gulf of Mexico in 1684, the map was probably drafted already in 1683 or shortly thereafter. Raffeix’s second map shows the region around Lake Ontario in which he served (plate 45).117 It is dated 1688 but not signed. The map is oriented, unusually, with south at the top, suggesting that the author viewed the region from present-day Canada. This map is of particularly interest because it was the first detailed representation of the Iroquois country compiled since the military map of 1664– 65. It presents Lake Ontario, also known as the Lake of Saint Louis, with the surrounding area marked as territory belonging to the five Iroquois nations. Furthermore, the map shows the trails between the villages and their fishing places (péche) on the Oswego River as well as a salt spring (near Syracuse), giving us some insight into the natives’ everyday activities and trade between the villages.
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This map is credited with being one of the first to depict the Finger Lakes, a group of eleven long, narrow, roughly north– south lakes in present-day central New York State. A group of six narrow lakes is presented on this sketch as draining into a river, which in turn empties into Lake Ontario near modern Oswego. Not far from its mouth, it receives the waters of an affluent coming from Lake Oneida (Lac Techiroguen). To the west lies a group of another three lakes flowing into Lake Ontario through a river, which is designated with the word sault (waterfall) and which presents the Genesee River with its waterfall at Rochester. The village of Assomption is marked on its eastern bank. To the east is another stream emptying into Lake Ontario through the Marais des Sennontouans (Irondequoit Bay), on whose far bank is the village of Saint Jacques; both these settlements are shown in a territory called Les Sennontouans. North of Lake Ontario, present-day Lake Simcoe is marked (Lac Tarontho) as well as the villages of Teyagon (Teiaiagon) and Ganestiquiagon (Ganatsekwyagon). Contemporary military activities are also shown on this map, including the construction of Fort Niagara (first built in 1679, then rebuilt in 1687). The long path between the Genesee River and Lake Erie is annotated: “Great portage of 30 leagues by which the Senecas travel to war against the Illinois.” The valuable geographical knowledge documented by Raffeix was almost immediately acknowledged by Franquelin, who included this information in his 1688 Carte de l’Amerique Septentrionale. Franquelin’s map was followed by numerous European maps that summarized
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explorations by Marquette, Joliet, La Salle, and Raffeix. When Vincenzo Maria Coronelli and Jean-Baptiste Nolin published their famous map of New France (Paris, 1688), derived from Franquelin’s sources, a vast store of knowledge based on Jesuit explorations was transferred as well and made available to the European public.118 4.6 The Final Decline of Jesuit Mapping in New France
The beginning of the eighteenth century in New France was marked by the outbreak of a new war. Queen Anne’s War (1702– 13), considered in Europe to be part of the War of the Spanish Succession (1701– 14) but thought of in the New World as one of the series of conflicts known as the French and Indian Wars, was fought between French and English colonists. Each side was supported by various native groups on several fronts in North America, especially Acadia (Nova Scotia) and Newfoundland, and also in the south, where the interests of British Carolina and French Louisiana clashed.119 As a consequence of this war, which ended with Treaty of Utrecht (1713), Britain gained Acadia, sovereignty over Newfoundland, the Hudson Bay region, and the Caribbean island of Saint Kitts. France recognized British suzerainty over the Iroquois and agreed that commerce with native nations farther inland would be open to all nations. In return, France retained all of the islands in the Gulf of Saint Lawrence, including Cape Breton Island, and retained fishing rights in the area.120 The war and its consequences moved the French focus on
mapping, as well as Jesuit mapping, from the interior toward the border areas in both the north (upper Canada) and the south (Louisiana). As early as 1700 the Jesuits adopted a policy of maintaining their existing posts instead of trying to establish new ones beyond Quebec, Montreal, and Ottawa.121 The Jesuit missionization of Louisiana was also very slow.122 That policy in particular reduced the Jesuits’ ability to explore and map, a task that was now taken over by professionals such as Franquelin. However, it should be noted that the Jesuits maintained some influence in cartography. After the Jesuits introduced a course in hydrography at their college at Quebec in 1700, in 1708 the king granted the chair of hydrography to the Jesuits, a position they held until the end of the French regime in 1759. The bestknown of the occupants of the chair is Father Joseph-Pierre de Bonnécamps (1707– 1790), who taught hydrography from 1741 to 1759. In addition to his teaching duties, he took part in expeditions as a cartographer and kept up correspondence with astronomers and cartographers in France, especially with Jean-Nicolas Delisle (the son of Claude Delisle), who reported on Bonnécamps’s calculations of the longitude of Quebec.123 Although the era of their famous expeditions was behind them, the Jesuits continued to use and produce maps as an important tool in various situations. Two particularly interesting events attest to Jesuit involvement in mapmaking after 1700. The first occurred at the time of the Treaty of Utrecht, when Joseph Aubery, a missionary
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who worked in mainland Acadia, advocated the interest of his mission, which was affected by the new demarcation between the French and the English crowns.124 In handing over Acadia, “with its ancient boundaries,” to England, the Treaty of Utrecht created a difficult situation for the Abenakis on the Atlantic coast, who now found themselves in a territory claimed by both crowns. Fully aware of the danger they were in, that year Aubery sent to the French court a report, accompanied by a map, that suggested clear boundaries between the English and the French territories.125 Although the map was drafted by the engineer La Guer de Morville, the architect at the intendant’s palace in Quebec, its compilation, under Aubery’s supervision, testifies not only to his knowledge of geography but also to his skill in using maps as a powerful tool in political issues.126 The other case that illustrates Jesuit involvement in the eighteenth-century cartography of New France is that of Father Pierre-Michel Laure.127 In 1720 he was entrusted with the task of again setting up the missions to the Montagnais in the Saguenay region. He stayed in this region for eighteen years, serving as a missionary and learning the languages from the natives. In his mission he met a native woman, Marie Outchiouanish, the wife of Nicolas Pelletier (Peltier). As she spoke French well, Marie became his teacher of the Montagnais language and customs. According to his account, Laure traveled the whole region north of the Saint Lawrence River and collected a large amount of geographical information. On the basis of his firsthand knowledge and the knowledge he gained from 320
the Montagnais, Father Laure compiled an account in 1730 describing the country, the local nations that lived there, and the first ten years of his missionary activity.128 This text contains important geographical and ethnological data; it also mentions two places that have never been identified: an “industrious river” (rivière industrieuse) on Lake Saint John, and a strange sort of “marble cave” to the east of Lake Mistassini. As an addition to his account, he compiled two maps, one of the Saguenay region and another of Canada north of the Saint Lawrence River. Although the maps were not included in his accounts (because they appeared later), they correspond with his narrative very closely. The first map shows the course of the Saguenay River between its mouth at the Saint Lawrence River near Tadoussac and a portage at the village of Chicoutimi (present-day Saguenay), situated in the upper course of the river (plate 46).129 The Saguenay River was as a major trade route into the interior for the native peoples of the area. The river was first ascended in 1647 by Jean de Quen, who discovered its source in Lake Piékouagami, later named Lake Saint-Jean.130 In addition to its economic importance for the fur trade, this river was also an important route along which the Jesuits traveled to their missions in northern Quebec. Knowledge about the course of the river was therefore essential for the missionaries. Laure’s map confirms their familiarity with the river as well as with its immediate hinterland, providing us with a very detailed and accurate representation of the Saguenay. All the tributaries are marked and labeled, most with
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their native names, while the source of the Saguenay River at Lake Saint-Jean is designated with a note in the left-hand margin of the map. The characteristic sharp turn of the river— actually, a fjord— downstream of the village of Chicoutimi is clearly recognizable, as are nearby lakes. Two portages are marked along the river, La Trinite and San Jean. These were connected by a dense network of paths, marked on the map with dotted lines. The village farthest upstream on the river that is presented on the map is Chicoutimi, a Jesuit mission and French furtrading post established in 1676. The color presentation of the hills and wooded areas reveals the skillful hand that drew the map, no doubt a proficiency that he developed through his study of painting. The map is accompanied by a graticule of latitude and longitude, a compass rose, and a simple but nicely drawn title cartouche with a dedication to the Marquis de Beauharnois, governor of New France from 1726 to 1746. The second map is based on an unidentified template, probably on Nicolas de Fer’s map La France Occidentale dans l’Amerique Septentrionale (Paris, 1718), to which the author refers in his narrative, and which he then supplemented with data from various Jesuit accounts and from his own observations. This map, which covers the region between the Saint Lawrence River in the south and Hudson Bay in the north, was compiled at a scale of 1:1,300,000, providing us with extensive geographical knowledge and place-names in the Montagnais language (plate 47).131 It summarizes the results of explorations made by both Jesuits and traders in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. All the towns,
native villages, missions, portages, and trade routes are noted in detail. In addition to human geography, the complex hydrography of the region is presented in great detail. Numerous lakes and rivers are designated and labeled, revealing to us a world in which the Jesuits and fur traders exchanged knowledge with the natives. Of particular interest are the notes on a pictograph found on rocks. The map is accompanied by a graticule of latitude and longitude, a compass rose, and a scale, while two of the copies also have their titles placed in a nice cartouche with a dedication to Monseigneur Louis Le Dauphin, better known as King Louis XV (1715– 1774). Both of Laure’s maps reached Paris, where their value was recognized by Nicolas Bellin. While preparing maps for PierreFrançois-Xavier de Charlevoix’s Histoire et description générale de la Nouvelle France (Paris, 1744), Bellin used both of Laure’s maps, but without crediting their author. The map of the Saguenay River was included more or less unchanged (fig. 120),132 while Laure’s map of Canada north of the Saint Lawrence River was incorporated into Bellin’s map of eastern New France at a reduced scale (fig. 121).133 When compiling his Le petit atlas maritime (Paris, 1764), Bellin included Laure’s Carte du domaine du Roy en Canada as a separate map, once again under a changed title and without acknowledging its true author.134 Laure’s dedication of his map to King Louis XV, who in 1764 ordered the suppression of the Society of Jesus in France, sounds like an epitaph to Jesuit mapmaking in Canada, which was suddenly interrupted a year before the suppression. When in 1763 The Final Decline of Jesuit Mapping in New France
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F igur e 120. Pierre-Michel Laure’s map of the Saguenay River, pirated by Jacques-Nicolas Bellin to accompany Pierre-François-Xavier de Charlevoix’s accounts of New France (Paris, 1744). (MacLean Collection)
F igur e 121. Pierre-Michel Laure’s geographical knowledge was incorporated into Jacques-Nicolas Bellin’s map of eastern New France prepared for Pierre-François-Xavier de Charlevoix’s Histoire et description générale de la Nouvelle France (Paris, 1744). (MacLean Collection)
France ceded New France (except for the islands of Saint Pierre and Miquelon) to Great Britain and Spain in the Treaty of Paris, which ended the Seven Years’ War, only twenty-one Jesuits were left stationed in what was now the British colony of Quebec. By 1773 only eleven Jesuits remained. That year the British crown laid claim to Jesuit property in Canada and declared that the Society of Jesus in New France was dissolved.135 However, Jean-Olivier
Briand, the bishop of Quebec, refused to put the order into effect, so the Jesuits remained in Quebec and retained possession of their property. Because Britain refused to allow the Jesuits and Recollects to recruit new members and would not allow French priests to come to Canada, the Jesuits’ numbers fell owing to attrition. The last Canadian Jesuit, Father Jean-Joseph Casot, died in Quebec in 1800.
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Concluding Remarks
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his book is the first attempt at a synthesis of the history of the Jesuit mapping of the Americas and the possessions of the Spanish, Portuguese, and French crowns. In this book I have identified more than a hundred Jesuit maps that are held by about forty institutions throughout the world. Never before have so many Jesuit maps been combined in one place, in one book. Yet, this scholarship is still a work in progress. Every day we discover new Jesuit narratives and maps that will continue to influence the overall picture of the role the Jesuits played in the history of the mapping and exploration of the Americas. That is why this book cannot have a conclusion in the true sense of the word, but can only present reflections on what the Jesuit maps identified so far say about the character of Jesuit cartographic activities in the mainland Americas. My comparative analysis of the mapping undertaken by countless Jesuits in the service of the Spanish, Portuguese, and French kings sought to establish a definition of what Jesuit cartography was, under what conditions it emerged and developed, what characteristics it had, what kind of maps it produced, what purpose such maps— directly and indirectly— served, and how the Jesuit cartographic production influenced the history of cartography in general. I have shown that the curriculum of the Jesuit educational system to a very large extent determined Jesuits’ ability to geographically reconnoiter the terrain as well as their skill in using other authors’ maps and producing their own. Their inclination toward the natural sciences, especially astronomy and mathematics, was of great benefit in the construction of maps 325
and the transfer of a geographical reality to a flat sheet of paper. At the same time, their humanistic education helped them in their ability to contact the local populations, with whom they exchanged not only geographical knowledge, but also culture and the ways of understanding themselves and the world. The role of Jesuit cartography— which, in addition to all its imperial connotations, always had a highly explorational character— was thus truly pioneering and innovative in every sense of the word. Their departure for unexplored regions, their encounters with the new and the uncertain, and their establishment of a system of missions based on the European concept of order and progress indicated not only tremendous effort but also a whole range of practical and communication skills. How to establish contact and understanding with the local population, survive in adverse climatic conditions, produce enough food, explore the area, and continuously report to their superiors on the progress made— all this was the responsibility of the Jesuit missionaries/explorers/cartographers. Jesuit maps are nonetheless characterized by some peculiarities that set them apart from the classical exploratory maps of the time. Their tendency to respect local cultures and knowledge is not present in imperial maps produced by the colonial invaders. This is particularly evident on Jesuit maps of the seventeenth century, at a time when Jesuit missions in the interior of the continent were almost the only sign of a European presence. Their exceptional commitment and dedication to recording local toponymy exactly as it was learned from the local indigenous population, in their 326
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own original languages, in the eighteenth century faded under the pressure of a colonial administration that strove to establish their own geography and organization of space as a means of colonial control and cultural assimilation. In this sense, I paid special attention to examining how the Jesuits collected and incorporated the spatial knowledge of the local nations, which strategies for appropriation and organization of indigenous knowledge they applied, and how they reconciled different spatial conceptions and representations when compiling their maps. This process also comprises an effort to interpret what is communicated and what is hidden on the map. It is obvious that the development of Jesuit cartography at the time of the European expansion into the Americas was indissociably linked to the imperial policies of Spain, Portugal, and France. Insofar as these policies and their colonial administrative systems differed from one another, Jesuit maps originating in those areas also reflected these differences. While all the European imperial powers recognized cartography as an important tool for the establishment and maintenance of authority, Spain, Portugal, and France did not engage in mapping with the same intensity. We have seen in the example of the Americas that Jesuit cartography had less significance in those regions where the development of imperial cartography was more strongly encouraged by central government institutions. At the same time, the lack of maps in empires that showed less initiative in organizing cartographic campaigns was compensated for by greater engagement by Jesuit cartographers. France had the most well organized
cartographic service in the areas under its control, so the overall significance of Jesuit cartography in the total corpus of the maps of French America was thus smaller. However, the Jesuit cartography of New France developed under the dominant influence of the French cartographic tradition, which in the seventeenth century led the world in cartography. In general, seventeenthcentury France was the most scientifically progressive country in Europe, and their Jesuits were one of the best educated groups, especially in the field of natural sciences. All this means that, despite the small number of maps produced by the Jesuits of the French assistancy, the quality of their maps surpassed the achievements of Portuguese and Spanish Jesuit cartography in the same period. Indeed, French Jesuit cartography reached its peak very early, between 1640 and 1680, at a time when the Jesuit cartography of the Spanish and Portuguese possessions had just started to flourish. At the same time, it also declined early, by the beginning of the eighteenth century. French Jesuit maps were characterized by distinct features of exploratory cartography and the absence of strong Catholic iconography. Thanks to the efficient dissemination of French Jesuit accounts, the geographical information contained therein soon found its way to European cartographers. Some of the most iconic printed maps of New France and North America produced in Europe included firsthand knowledge supplied by the Jesuits of the French assistancy. From the Mississippi River to Hudson Bay, Jesuit data played a key role in drafting the physical and human geography of New France for all European geographers.
The Jesuits of the Portuguese assistancy had much stronger relations with the colonial government than did their Spanish and French counterparts. The Portuguese crown exploited the administrative and diplomatic talents of the Jesuits, commissioning them to undertake many tasks unrelated to their spiritual commitments. Brazil actually suffered from a chronic lack of reliable maps and trained official— especially military— cartographers, so the Jesuits were not only instrumental in mapping the majority of Portuguese possessions in the interior, but also participated in official state affairs, such as the demarcation, fortification, and mapping of newly conquered areas, that were important for the military security of the entire colony. Consequently, Portuguese Jesuit maps had many features of military cartography, while their missionary aspect often was relegated to secondary importance. Portuguese Jesuit maps also completely omitted the symbols of the Jesuit order. As a consequence of their involvement in sensitive aspects of the military control and military security of the territory, their maps were treated as confidential and never published, so they had minimal influence on European commercial cartography. Spain, which invested considerable effort in mapping its overseas possessions, was for reasons of the imperial economic interests oriented primarily toward the Atlantic coast. The scarcely passable interior as well as the entire Pacific frontier of the Spanish possessions was essentially left to the Jesuits, who played a dominant role in exploration and mapping for almost two centuries. It was the maps of these parts of Concluding Remarks
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the Spanish possessions that had the most pronounced missionary features. Of all Jesuit cartographies, the Spanish was characterized by the most pronounced iconography and the symbols of power of both the Society of Jesus and the Spanish crown. Because it covered a vast area, Spanish Jesuit cartography produced the largest number of maps, many of them published, which enabled them to have a strong influence on European commercial cartography. However, I have shown that Jesuit activities in the field depended not only on the imperial policies of the crowns but were also strongly influenced by local contexts. Thus, Jesuit cartography showed significant differences even within the possessions of a single crown. The exploratory work of missionaries was not equally accepted or encouraged everywhere. Analysis of the mapping of each individual province also shows significant differences in both the dynamics of mapping and the content of the maps. All this contributed to the exceptional diversity of Jesuit maps, the difficulty of recognizing their coherence, and their distinction from colonial and/or imperial cartography. On the basis of insight into the content and quality of Jesuit cartography and the methods that characterized their meticulous observational work in the field, this study refutes the long-established view that Jesuit science was radically opposed to Enlightenment ideas and progress of the modern social sciences and humanities. Their approach to exploration, information gathering in the field, data verification, and knowledge exchange with local communities, as well as the systematic integration of areas explored, largely confirms the 328
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presence of Enlightenment discourse in Jesuit cartographic work even before the process of modernization got under way in European science. Travel, observation, collection, measurement, and description were integral parts of their cartographic endeavors. Also, given the very diverse contents and discourses of their maps, it is apparent that the models and images of the New World and the ways they mapped the native areas and peoples were the result of complex influences arising from the Jesuits’ education and the official apostolic mission of their order, as well as from their personal mission, local colonial strategy, and the evolving reception of the history, geography, and customs of the region being described. Thus, Jesuit cartography should be understood as an important medium of intercultural transfers between the New and the Old Worlds. The juxtaposition of preand post-suppression Jesuit maps makes it possible to identify the impact the end of the Jesuits’ power had on their view of the world and their view of themselves. As shown throughout the chapters of this book, the practical and ideological challenges that generations of Jesuit missionaries faced in order to survive in the diverse human and natural landscapes of the Americas fostered different practices of knowledge gathering in order to overcome the difficulties of running the missions, but also to become worthy counterparts to colonial officials in their capacity as servants of the crown. Jesuit maps were crucial in propelling the development of both local projects and those sponsored by the empire. Yet, their mapping was an interactive process, driven in many cases by the
periphery rather than centralized strategy. That is one of the reasons for the great diversity of Jesuit cartography and its attentiveness to local knowledge. At the same time, the institutional organization of the order, particularly its commitment to education and its effective postal system, allowed the circulation of their maps and accounts on both sides of the Atlantic. Deeply engaged in educational, evangelical, scientific, and political endeavors, Jesuit missionaries became one of the most influential intellectual communities of the colonial period, whose maps reflected equally their achievements in exploration, their ideological viewpoints, and— no less important— their pronounced position of power, which
enabled them to have a profound impact on scholarship in both the New and Old Worlds. In spite of the eclipse of the Society of Jesus, their contribution to cartography constitutes an important scientific legacy. With their emphasis on personal fieldwork, astronomic observation, the regular use of coordinates of longitude and latitude, scale, compass orientation, and the inclusion of extensive indigenous geographical knowledge, they provided a crucial link between early European cosmographies that outlined the American continents and the appearance of the first regional maps based on modern scientific methods of observation and measurement.
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Notes
Introduction 1. Brian J. Harley, “The Map as Mission: Jesuit Cartography as an Art of Persuasion,” in Jesuit Art in North American Collections, ed. Jane B. Goldsmith (Milwaukee, WI: Patrick and Beatrice Haggerty Museum of Art, Marquette University, 1991), 28– 30. Chapter 1 1. Jonathan Wright, The Jesuits: Missions, Myths and Histories (New York: Harper Collins, 2004), 17. 2. Under the papal bull Inter caetera of May 4, 1493, the first to be allowed to leave for the newly discovered lands were the Dominicans and Franciscans. Only after a third attempt was a permit granted to the Jesuits. 3. They were four assistancies in 1600: those of Italy, Germany, Portugal, and Spain. The assistancy of France was added in 1608. The German assistancy included not only the German-speaking central European countries, but also the English, Flemish, and Belgian provinces in the northwest, and the Polish, Bohemian, Austrian, Hungarian, and Croatian provinces to the east and southeast. Poland and Lithuania got separate assistancies in 1755. See Paul F. Grendler, Jesuit Schools and Universities in Europe, 1548– 1773 (Leiden: Brill, 2019), 7. 4. Athanasius Kircher, Ars magna lucis et umbrae (Rome: Hermanni Scheus, 1646), 553. 5. Steven J. Harris, “Mapping Jesuit Science: The Role of Travel in the Geography of Knowledge,” in The Jesuits: Cultures, Sciences, and the Arts, 1540– 1773, ed. John W. O’Malley, Gauvin Alexander Bailey, Steven J. Harris, and T. Frank Kennedy (Toronto and Buffalo, NY: University of Toronto Press, 1999), 219. 6. Alberto Carlos Zeron, “From Farce to Tragedy,” Journal of Jesuit Studies 2 (2015): 394. 7. As an illustration, during the first half of the seventeenth century thirteen foreign
missionaries came to Brazil. At the height of tensions between the factions, in 1694, there were twenty-five foreigners in all of Portuguese America: sixteen in Brazil and nine in Maranhão. Zeron, “From Farce,” 410. 8. John W. Padberg, The Constitutions of the Society of Jesus and Their Complementary Norms: A Complete English Translation of the Official Latin Texts (St. Louis, MO: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1996), 335– 36. 9. For more about the roles of Jesuit travel, see Hermann Stoeckius, Die Reiseordnung der Gesellschaft Jesu im 16. Jahrhundert (Heidelberg: Carl Winter’s Universitätsbuchhandlung, 1912). 10. Júnia Ferreira Furtado, “Society of Jesus,” in Cartography in the European Enlightenment, ed. Matthew Edney and Mary Pedley, vol. 4 of The History of Cartography (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2020), 1311– 19. I am grateful to Professor Furtado for sharing her contribution before the book was published. 11. Harris, “Mapping Jesuit Science,” 217– 18. 12. For example, it is known that the Czech Jesuit Wenceslaus Linck (1736– after 1790), in his diary on the exploration of Baja California (1765– 66), repeatedly referred to the explorations of his predecessor Ferdinand Konščak. Moreover, there are indications that Linck inherited Konščak’s personal diary as well as his measuring instruments. In several places in his work on Peru and Mexico, José de Acosta also referred to the achievements of his predecessors, which had helped him in his explorations. 13. Paul F. Grendler, “Jesuit Schools in Europe: A Historiographical Essay,” Journal of Jesuit Studies 1 (2014): 12 and 17. 14. Grendler, “Jesuit Schools,” 10. 15. In 1706 the number of collegiate and university institutions was over 750; Latin America alone had 96 colleges before the suppression of the Society. Some of the Jesuit colleges had over 2,000 pupils each; while it is impossible to give an absolute average, 300 seems to be the very lowest. This would mean that in total the colleges had more than 210,000 students, all trained under the same system. Robert Schwickerath, “Ratio Studiorum,” in The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 12 (New York: Robert Appleton, 1911), accessed June 5, 2020, http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/12654a.htm.
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16. Andrés I. Prieto, Missionary Scientist: Jesuit Science in Spanish South America, 1570– 1810 (Nashville, TN: Vanderbilt University Press, 2011), 95– 96. 17. This is an abbreviation of the official title, Ratio atque institutio studiorum Societatis Jesu (Method and System of the Studies of the Society of Jesus). The initial edition of the Ratio Studiorum was prepared in 1586 (and printed in 1591); the final version was adopted in 1599. The 1599 document remained the authoritative plan of studies in the schools of the order until its suppression in 1773. 18. Agustín Udías, Jesuit Contribution to Science: A History (Heidelberg and New York: Springer, 2015), 116. 19. For more on the philosophical basis of Jesuit science and education, see Alison Simmons, “Jesuit Aristotelian Education: The De anima Commentaries,” in The Jesuits: Cultures, Sciences, and the Arts, 1540– 1773, ed. John W. O’Malley, Gauvin Alexander Bailey, Steven J. Harris, and T. Frank Kennedy (Toronto and Buffalo, NY: University of Toronto Press, 1999), 522– 37. 20. As an astronomer, Clavius held strictly to the geocentric model of the solar system. Though he opposed the Copernicus’s heliocentric model, he recognized problems with the Ptolemaic model. He was treated with great respect by Galileo, who visited him in 1611. 21. Udías, Jesuit Contribution, 118. 22. Esteban J. Palomera, “Jesuit Education in Colonial Mexico, 1572– 1767,” in Jesuit Encounters in the New World: Jesuit Chroniclers, Geographers, Educators and Missionaries in the Americas, 1549– 1767, ed. Joseph A. Gagliano and Charles E. Ronan (Rome: Institutum Historicum Societatis Jesu, 1997), 187. 23. John W. Padberg, “Development of the Ratio Studiorum,” in The Jesuit Ratio Studiorum: 400th Anniversary Perspectives, ed. Vincent J. Duminuco (New York: Fordham University Press, 2000), 96. 24. François de Dainville, L’éducation des jésuites (XVIe– XVIIIe siècles) (Paris: Éditions de Minuit, Collection Sens Commun, 1978), 427– 54. 25. Harum opera utitur Geographia Artificiosa ad suas Delineationes prius ex Globo in Globum postea ex Globo in Planum transferendas. Copperplate, colored by hand; 27.2 cm height × 20 cm
width. In Heinrich Scherer, Geographia Artificialis, sive Globi Terraqvei Geographice repræsentandi artificium ([Munich]: Monarchii, Typis, Mariæ Magdalenæ Rauchin Viduæ, 1703). DRMC, G32200 [1703] .S34. 26. Acto académico con que los colegiales del Imperial y Real Seminario de Nobles de Cordelles, que en Barcelona está baxo la dirección de la Compañía de Jesus, consagraron a la muy ilustre ciudad, la ciudad de Barcelona y su nobilissimo ayuntamiento, los adelantamientos que han hecho en las Buenas Letras y Exercicios proprios de un caballero, en los dias 27, 28 y 29 de Deciembre de 1757. Barcelona: Imprenta de Francisco Suriá. LUC, Archives & Special Collections, 378.46A188. 27. Horacio Capel, “La geografía en los exámenes públicos y el proceso de diferenciación entre geografía y matemáticas en la enseñanza durante el siglo XVIII,” Areas: Revista Internacional de Ciencias Sociales 1 (1981): 97. 28. Padberg, The Constitutions, 7. 29. For more on the Jesuit relationship to the Church and to the state, see Alberto Carlos Zeron, “Political Theories and Jesuit Politics,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Jesuits, ed. Ines G. Županov (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), 1– 29. 30. Artur H. Franco Barcelos, “Unus non sufficit orbis: Os jesuitas, o mapaemento do mundo e as cartografias periféricas,” IHS Antiguos jesuitas en Iberoamérica 5 (2017): 69. 31. Andreu Martínez d’Alòs-Moner, “In the Company of Iyäsus: The Jesuit Mission in Ethiopia, 1557– 1632” (Ph.D. diss., European University Institute, 2009), 283. 32. Harris, “Mapping Jesuit Science,” 215. 33. Francisco Zambrano and José Gutiérrez Casillas, Diccionario bio-bibliográfico dela Compañia de Jesús en México (Mexico City: Editorial Jus, 1977), 5:379. 34. José de Acosta, Historia natural y moral de las Indias (Seville: Juan de León, 1590), was an alternative to Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo, Historia general de las Indias (Seville: Juan Cromberger, 1535). While Acostá’s work was strongly Aristotelian, Oviedo took a much more encyclopedic approach. Miguel de Asúa, Science in the Vanished Arcadia: Knowledge of Nature in the Jesuit Missions of Paraguay and Río de la Plata (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2014), 31.
35. Magni Amazoni fluvii in América meridionali nova delineatio 1655. The map was published in Blaise François comte de Pagan, Relation historique et géographique de la grande rivière des Amazones dans l’Amérique (Paris: Cardin Besongne, 1655). An English-language edition was published in 1660. See Jorge Pimentel Cintra, “Magni Amazoni Fluvii: O mapa do Conde de Pagan,” Anais do I Simpósio Brasileiro de Cartografia Histórica (2011): 2. 36. Asúa, Science, 189. 37. Carlos de Sigüenza y Góngora, Libra astronómica y filosófica / en que D. . . . examina no solo lo que a su manifiesto filosófico contra los cometas opuso el R.P. Eusebio Francisco Kino . . . sino lo que el mismo R.P. opinó, y pretendio haber demostrado en su Exposicion astronómica del cometa del año de 1681 (Mexico City: Viuda de Bernardo Calderón, 1690). 38. Francisco Eusebio Kino, Exposición astronómica de el cometa, que el año de 1680, por los meses de noviembre, y diziembre, y este año de 1681, por los meses de enero y febrero, se ha visto en todo el mundo, y le ha observado en la ciudad de Cádiz, el P. Eusebio Francisco Kino de la Compañía de Jesús (Mexico City: Francisco Rodríguez Lupercio, 1681). 39. Prieto, Missionary Scientist, 130. 40. Asúa, Science, 219. 41. Reuben Gold Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents: Travels and Explorations of the Jesuit Missionaries in New France, 1610– 1791; The Original French, Latin, and Italian Texts, with English Translations and Notes, 71 vols. (Cleveland, OH: Burrows Bros., 1899), 39:41. 42. Capacci compiled all of the astronomical measurements that he had taken in Lisbon, Porto, and Braga between 1726 and 1727 in the Lusitânia Astronomice Ilustrata. André Ferrand de Almeida, A formação do espaço brasileiro e o projecto do Novo Atlas da América Portuguesa (1713– 1748) (Lisbon: Comissão Nacional para as Comemorações dos Descobrimentos Portugueses, 2001), 98. 43. Diego de Alvear, “Relación geográfica e histórica de la provincia de Misiones,” in Colección de obras y documentos relativos a la historia antigua y moderna de las provincias del Río de la Plata, ed. Pedro de Angelis, vol. 4 (Buenos Aires: Imprenta del Estado, 1836). 44. Guillermo Furlong, Misiones y sus pueblos de guaraníes (Buenos Aires: [Ediciones Theoria], 1962), 600. Notes to Pages 15–24
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45. Udías, Jesuit Contribution, 34. 46. Christopher Maire and Roger Boscovich published a description of the entire expedition, including the results of their measurements, in their book De litteraria expeditione per pontificiam ditionem ad dimetiendos duos meridiani gradus et corrigendam mappam geographicam jussu, et auspiciis Benedicti XIV (Rome: In typographio Palladis excudebant Nicolaus, et Marcus Palearini, 1755). For more on Maire and Boscovich’s survey, see Mirela Altic, “Exploring along the Rome Meridian: Roger Boscovich and the First Modern Map of the Papal States,” in History of Cartography: International Symposium of the ICA, 2012, ed. Elri Liebenberg, Peter Collier, and Zsolt Gyözö Török, Lecture Notes in Geoinformation and Cartography 2014 (Heidelberg and New York: Springer Verlag, 2014), 71– 89. 47. Nuova carta geografica dello Stato Ecclesiastico delineata dal P. Cristoforo Maire, d.a. C.a. di Gesù sulle comuni Osservazioni sue e del P. Ruggiero Giuseppe Boscovich della medesima Compagnia. [Scale ca. 1:375,000]. Calcografia della R.C.A., Rome. Copperplate engraved map on three sheets, 120 cm height × 65 cm width. 48. Madelina Valeria Veres, “Scrutinizing the Heavens, Measuring the Earth: Joseph Liesganig’s Contribution to the Mapping of the Habsburg Lands in the Eighteenth Century,” Journal of Jesuit Studies 6, no. 1 (2019): 89. 49. The atlas was partially based upon the work of another French Jesuit scientist, Thomas Gouye. In 1693 a newer edition was published, and yet another in 1700. These include new information, such as the paths of comets observed since 1674. The atlas, which uses gnomonic projection so that the plates make up a cube of the universe, served as a model for the star charts of William Rutter Dawes, published in 1844. Deborah J. Warner, The Sky Explored: Celestial Cartography, 1500– 1800 (New York: A. R. Liss, 1979), 196. 50. In this respect, one of the most notable examples is Michele Ruggieri’s 1606 atlas of China. For more on the subject, see Eugenio Lo Sardo, Atlante della Cina di Michele Ruggieri (Rome: Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato, 1993). The Selden map of China (ca. 1619) also indicates the possibility of an indirect Jesuit influence; see Robert Batchelor, “The Selden Map Rediscovered: A Chi-
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nese Map of East Asian Shipping Routes, c. 1619,” Imago Mundi 65, no. 1 (2013): 37– 63. Furthermore, recent scholarship reveals the significance of the Kangxi Atlas (1721), which resulted from imperial enterprise. The Kangxi emperor employed Jesuit mathematicians (1708– 21) to design and manage the production of a set of maps of the provinces of China using a combination of Western and Chinese surveying methods. Mario Cams, “Not Just a Jesuit Atlas of China: Qing Imperial Cartography and Its European Connections,” Imago Mundi 69, no. 2 (2017): 188– 201. 51. Richard A. Pegg, “The Star Charts of Ignatius Kögler (1680– 1746) in the Korean Court,” Journal of Jesuit Studies 6, no. 1 (2019): 45– 46. 52. Manonmani Restif-Filliozat, “The Jesuit Contribution to the Geographical Knowledge of India in the Eighteenth Century,” Journal of Jesuit Studies 6, no. 1 (2019): 72. 53. Athanasius Kircher, Magnes sive de arte magneticâ opus tripartitum (Rome: Hermanni Scheus, 1641), 502. 54. By the late seventeenth century, the Casa de Contratación had fallen into bureaucratic gridlock, and the empire as a whole was failing, owing primarily to Spain’s inability to finance both war on the Continent and a global empire. In the eighteenth century the new Bourbon kings reduced the power of Seville and the Casa de Contratación. In 1717 they moved the Casa from Seville to Cádiz, diminishing Seville’s importance in international trade. Luisa Martín Merás, Cartografía marítima hispana: La imagen de América (Madrid: Lunwerg, 1993), 69. 55. Maria Fernanda Alegria, Suzanne Daveau, João Carlos Garcia, and Francesc Relaño, “Portuguese Cartography in the Renaissance,” in Cartography in the European Renaissance, ed. David Woodward, vol. 3 of The History of Cartography (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), 1003– 4. 56. Some discussions of the development of cartography recognize a difference between imperial cartography, as explorative or appropriative mapping, and the subsequent colonial cartography, which produced various maps for the administrative purposes of the colonial authorities. The existence of imperial and colonial cartography as distinct categories is, however, arguable insofar as
the imperial nature of the map is dependent upon the context in which it is deployed and understood and not upon anything innate to the cartographic enterprise, which itself developed in response to the idea of empire. For more on this issue, see Matthew H. Edney, “The Irony of Imperial Mapping,” in The Imperial Map: Cartography and the Mastery of Empire, ed. James R. Akerman (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009), 11– 45; and Lindsay Frederick Braun, “Colonial and Imperial Cartography,” in Cartography in the Twentieth Century, ed. Mark Monmonier, vol. 6 of The History of Cartography (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015), 251– 55. 57. To remedy the situations, the Spanish authorities undertook the great project of the Relaciones geográficas, which resulted in diverse maps ranging from the pre-Hispanic indigenous tradition to maps and plans made by native painters and Spanish officials. See Manuel Morato-Moreno, “Map of Tlacotalpa by Francisco Gali, 1580: An Early Example of a Local Coastal Chart in Spanish America,” Cartographic Journal 55 (2018): 3– 15. 58. Lindsay Frederick Braun, “Missionary Cartography in Colonial Africa: Cases from South Africa,” in History of Cartography: International Symposium of the ICA Commission, 2010, ed. Elri Liebenberg and Imre Demhardt, Lecture Notes in Geoinformation and Cartography 2012 (Berlin: Springer, 2012), 250. 59. Harley, “The Map as Mission,” 29. 60. Anne Godlewska, “Commentary: The Fascination of Jesuit Cartography,” in Jesuit Encounters in the New World: Jesuit Chroniclers, Geographers, Educators and Missionaries in the Americas, 1549– 1767, ed. Joseph A. Gagliano and Charles E. Ronan (Rome: Institutum Historicum Societatis Jesu, 1997), 111. 61. Jonathan DeCoster, “Aid from the Indians Themselves: Native Rivalries, Spanish Precedent, and French and English Colonialism,” Terrae Incognitae 51, no. 2 (2019): 115. 62. Conrad Heidenreich, “The Changing Role of Natives in the Exploration of Canada: Cartier (1534) to Mackenzie (1793),” Terrae Incognitae 37, no. 1 (2005): 31. 63. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 12:153. 64. David Buisseret, “Meso-American and Spanish Cartography: An Unusual Example of
Syncretic Development,” in The Mapping of the Entradas into the Greater Southwest, ed. Dennis Reinhartz and Gerald D. Saxon (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1998), 42. 65. Conrad Heidenreich, “Mapping the Great Lakes: The Period of Exploration, 1603– 1700,” Cartographica 17, no. 3 (1980): 55. 66. Heidenreich, “Mapping the Great Lakes,” 54. 67. Some of the European cities with an observatory whose meridian was chosen as longitudinal zero include Bologna, Cracow, Lisbon, Nuremberg, Toledo, and Ulm. For example, the Alphonsine Tables (1272, continually reprinted up to 1641) referred to Toledo, whereas the tabulated predictions by Johannes Müller (Regiomontanus, 1436– 76), opted for Nuremberg. The ephemerides by David Trost (David Origanus, 1558– 1628) used Frankfurt, while Johannes Kepler chose Ulm as a reference point for his Rudolphine Tables (1627). The reflections of these different points of reference in the ephemerides can be recognized in many maps of the New World. See Abraham Ortelius’s map of Peru (Peruviae Avriferae Regionis Typus, 1584), which refers to the prime meridian of Toledo. A. R. T. Jonkers, “Parallel Meridians: Diffusion and Change in Early Modern Oceanic Reckoning,” in Noord-Zuid in Oostindisch perspectief, ed. Jan Parmentier (The Hague: Walburg, 2005), 17. 68. Charles W. J. Withers, Zero Degrees: Geographies of the Prime Meridian (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2017), 10. 69. Jonkers, “Parallel Meridians,” 19. 70. Jonkers, “Parallel Meridians,” 23. 71. Strangely enough, French maritime cartography did not embrace Ferro as much as their state and commercial cartographies did. Even after the declaration of Ferro as the preferred French prime meridian, it was not Ferro that predominated in French oceanic navigation, but St. Jago (Cape Verde Islands) and Tenerife. That particularly applies to maps for transatlantic navigation, most of which used Cape Verde. Only in the mideighteenth century did the Paris meridian wipe out all the competition, becoming the preferred meridian in all French maps. 72. In 1762 the Spanish royal cartographer Tomás López noted that the Spaniards regularly Notes to Pages 30–39
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counted from the Pico de Teide on Tenerife Island, situated 12°37′ west of Madrid. Withers, Zero Degrees, 59. 73. For more about the long-standing use of Ferro in Portuguese cartography, see Márcia Maria Duarte dos Santos, Jorge Pimentel Cintra, and Friedrich Ewald Renger, “Origem das longitudes e precisão das coordenadas geográficas dos mapas de Minas Gerais no período 1767– 1821,” Anais do V Simpósio Brasileiro de Cartográfica Histórica (2013): 1– 24. 74. Brian J. Harley, “Maps, Knowledge and Power,” in The Iconography of Landscape, ed. Denis Cosgrove and Stephen Daniels (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 298, 300. 75. Harley, “Maps, Knowledge and Power,” 299. 76. Brian J. Harley, “Silences and Secrecy: The Hidden Agenda of Cartography in Early Modern Europe,” Imago Mundi 40 (1988): 58– 59. 77. Graham Clarke, “Taking Possession: The Cartouche as Cultural Text in EighteenthCentury American Maps,” World and Image 4 (1988): 456. 78. Camila Loureiro Dias, “Jesuit Maps and Political Discourse: The Amazon River of Father Samuel Fritz,” The Americas 69, no. 1 (2012): 108. 79. El gran río Marañón, o Amazonas con la Misión de la Compañía de lesus. Geograficamente delineado por el P[adr]e Samuel Fritz missionero continuo en esse Rio. 80. A la Catolica y Real Magestad del Rey N° S[eño]r D[o]n Felipe V. La Provincia de Quito de la Comp[ani]a de Iesus ofrece y dedica en eterno reconocimiento este mapa del Gran Marañon con su Mission apostolica como a su soberano partono. Y mantenedor por mano de su Real Audiencia de Quito. 81. Bernhard Havestadt, “Diário de la mision entre los indios chilenos, escrito por el R.P. Bernardo Havestadt, S.J., misionero de la Compañía de Jesús, entre 1751 y primeros meses de 1752,” in Cartas e informes de misioneros jesuítas extranjeros en Hispanoamérica: Quinta Parte (1751– 1778); Selección, traducción, introducción y notas, ed. Mauro Matthei and Rodrigo Moreno Jeria, Anales de la Facultad de Teología 52 (Santiago: Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile, 2001), 70– 71. 82. Harley, “The Map as Mission,” 30. 83. Artur H. F. Barcelos, O Mergulho no Secu-
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lum: Exploração, conquista e organização espacial jesuítica na América espanhola colonial (Porto Alegre: Animal Editora e Produtora, 2013), 489. 84. Dias, “Jesuit Maps,” 108– 9. 85. Ernest Burrus, La obra cartográfica de la Provincia Mexicana de la Compañía de Jesus (1567– 1967), 2 vols. (Madrid: Ediciones Jose Porrua Turanzas, 1967), 1:3. 86. One of the few exceptions is the map of Ethiopia by the Portuguese Jesuit Manoel de Almeida, which is included in his account Historia de Etiopía a Alta ou Abassia, later published in Baltazar Téllez, Historia general de Ethiopia a Alta (Coimbra, 1660). 87. The Jesuit system of communication can be divided into two main groups. The first is the administrative correspondence between the local officials and the curia in Rome dealing with the everyday concerns of administration. The second group comprises the edifying letters, which consist of two subgroups of documents, the missionary reports (Relations) and the Litterae Annuae. While the Relations are more comprehensive, providing more geographical information, the Litterae Annuae contain the scrutinized reports from all the provinces, which were sent to Rome, edited, and compiled to form the general annual letters of the Society. Markus Friedrich, “Circulating and Compiling the Litterae Annuae: Towards a History of the Jesuit System of Communication,” Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu 153 (2008): 5. 88. The volumes from this series were printed in a variety of places, such as Rome, Florence, Naples, Lyon, and Antwerp. This variation in the place of publication of individual volumes is closely related to the circulation of manuscripts and letters. All letters going out to the Iberian Peninsula, as well as beyond Europe, were forwarded to Antwerp. Alternatively, the letters for Spain could also be directed via Genoa to their Iberian destination. Through Antwerp, the Portuguese letters would be sent to the provincial in Lisbon. The letters for Spain could be either sent to the Society’s Commissario in Spain, to the rector of the college in Medina del Campo, or to the court directly. From there the Litterae would be distributed to the four Spanish provinces. The letters for France went directly to Paris, and Lombardy received the Litterae through either Venice or Bo-
logna. See Friedrich, “Circulating and Compiling the Litterae Annuae,” 15. 89. The biography of its publisher illustrates well the power and significance of the edition. Sébastien Cramoisy was a strong political figure, very close to Richelieu. In 1629 he was granted the privilege of printing all acts of the Cour des monnaies and in 1639 had the honor of being counted among the five booksellers authorized to print royal acts. In 1656 he was chosen by the Council of State to control the deposit of publications in the king’s library. In 1640 he became the first director of the Imprimerie royale in the Louvre (1640), which position remained in his family until 1701. It is believed that Louis de Buade de Frontenac, who was strongly opposed to the order, played a role in the termination of the series. For more see Jean Delanglez, Frontenac and the Jesuits (Chicago: Institute of Jesuit History, 1939). 90. That refers to the 1713 map of the province of Moxos, Fritz’s map of the Amazon, and d’Anville’s redaction of Dávila and Machoni’s 1732 map of Paraguay. 91. Volumes 39 and 40 were planned but never published. 92. Mémoires de trévoux was the popular title of a scientific review published at Trévoux, near Paris, from 1701 to 1782. The official title of the journal was Mémoires pour l’Histoire des sciences & des beaux-arts. Most of the authors were members of the Society of Jesus. 93. Florence Hsia, “Jesuits, Jupiter’s Satellites, and the Académie Royale des Sciences,” in The Jesuits: Cultures, Sciences, and the Arts, 1540– 1773, ed. John W. O’Malley, Gauvin Alexander Bailey, Steven J. Harris, and T. Frank Kennedy (Toronto and Buffalo, NY: University of Toronto Press, 1999), 244. 94. Burrus, La obra cartográfica, 1:3. 95. Mario Cams, “The China Maps of JeanBaptiste Bourguignon d’Anville: Origins and Supporting Networks,” Imago Mundi 66, no. 1 (2014): 56. 96. One of his major assignments for the Jesuits was to produce maps of China based upon a survey undertaken by twenty-seven Jesuits at the behest of the Chinese emperor. In that regard, Jean-Baptiste Du Halde, editor of the Lettres édifiantes et curieuses, contracted Jean-Baptiste Bour-
guignon d’Anville in 1728 to prepare the maps that were to accompany his Description géographique, historique, chronologique, politique, et physique de l’empire de la Chine et de la Tartarie chinoise. By 1735 d’Anville had produced forty-one maps of the Qing Empire. 97. On the role of d’Anville in the compilation and transmission of knowledge on Brazil, see the three extensive studies of Júnia Ferreira Furtado, Oráculos da geografia iluminista: Dom Luís da Cunha e Jean Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville na construção da cartografia do Brasil (Belo Horizonte: UFMG, 2012); The Map That Invented Brazil (São Paulo: Versal Editores for the Fundação Odebrecht, 2013); and “Elargir ses réseaux, diversifier ses commandes: Les travaux de d’Anville pour la couronne Portugaise,” in Une carrière de géographe au siècle des lumières: Jean-Baptiste d’Anville, ed. Lucile Haguet and Catherine Hofmann (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation; Paris: Bibliothèque nationale de France, 2018), 53– 83. 98. For more on Dutch and Luso-Hispanic knowledge exchange, see Werner Thomas, Eddy Stols, Iris Kantor, and Júnia Ferreira Furtado, eds., Un mundo sobre papel: Libros, grabados y mapas de Flandres en los impérios español y portugués (siglos XVI– XVIII) (Leuven: Acco, 2009), and Michiel van Groesen,. Imagining the Americas in Print: Books, Maps and Encounters in the Atlantic World (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2019). 99. In 1581 the Low Countries, ruled by the Habsburgs, were divided in two. The United Provinces of the Netherlands, commonly referred to as the Dutch Republic, was a federal republic formally established by the northern Seven United Provinces, which declared their independence from Habsburg Spain in 1581. At the same time, the ten provinces of the southern Netherlands remained under Spanish rule and are therefore sometimes called the Spanish Netherlands. In 1713, under the Treaty of Utrecht following the War of the Spanish Succession, what was left of the Spanish Netherlands was ceded to Austria and thus became known as the Austrian Netherlands. 100. Barcelos, “Unus non sufficit,” 71. 101. Protásio Langer, “Cartas geográficas edificantes: O imaginário da conversão dos povos indígenas nos mapas dos jesuítas Heinrich Scherer e Samuel Fritz in Conversão dos Cativos,” in Povos Notes to Pages 59–67
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indígenas e missão jesuítica, ed. Paulo Suess, Bartomeu Melià, José Oscar Beozzo, Benedito Prezia, Graciela Chamorro and Protásio Langer (São Bernardo do Campo: Nhanduti Editora, 2009), 85. 102. This chapter is based on Mirela Altic, “Changing the Discourse: Post-Expulsion Jesuit Cartography of Spanish America,” Journal of Jesuit Studies 6, no. 1 (2019): 99– 114. 103. Wright, The Jesuits, 172. 104. Clorinda Donato, “The Politics of Writing, Translating, and Publishing: New World Histories in Post-expulsion Italy; Filippo Salvatore Gilij’s 1784 Saggio di Storia Americana,” in Jesuit Accounts of the Colonial Americas: Intercultural Transfers, Intellectual Disputes, and Textualities, ed. Marc André Bernier, Clorinda Donato, and HansJürgen Lüsebrink (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014), 53. 105. For more details on the historical context of the promulgation of the brief by Pope Clement XIV in the Habsburg monarchy, see Derek Beales, Enlightenment and Reform in Eighteenth-Century Europe (New York: I. B. Tauris, 2005), especially his chapter “Maria Theresa, Joseph II and the Suppression of the Jesuits,” 207– 26. 106. Wright, The Jesuits, 211. 107. E.g., the exiled Jesuit Francisco Javier Iturri (1738– 1822) included Camaño’s map of the Viceroyalty of the Rio de la Plata in his narrative, titled Historia natural, eclesiástica y civil del Virreinato del Río de la Plata ([S.l.: S.n.], 1798). Chapter 2 1. An extensive list of German-speaking Jesuits in Latin America can be found in Vicente D. Sierra, Los jesuítas germanos en la conquista espiritual de Hispano-América (Buenos Aires: Institución Cultural Argentino-Germana, 1944). 2. Islario general de todas las islas del mundo. Alonso de Santa Cruz. Manuscript, ca. 1542. BNE, Res. 38, F.40. 3. Martín Merás, Cartografía marítima, 102. 4. Americae sive quartae orbis partis nova et exactissima descriptio. [Antwerp], 1562. Engraving; 83 cm height × 86 cm width. LOC, Geography and Map Division, G3290 1562.G7. 5. David Buisseret, “Spanish Colonial Cartography, 1450– 1700,” in Cartography in the European
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Renaissance, ed. David Woodward, vol. 3 of The History of Cartography (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), 1144– 45. 6. Thirteen of his manuscript maps on the Americas are now kept in the JCB. Those maps were copied end expanded by Antonio de Herrera y Tordesillas in his Historia general de los hechos de los castellanos en las Islas y Tierra Firme del mar Océano que llaman Indias Occidentales (Madrid: Juan Flamenco and Juan de la Cuesta, 1601– 15), also known as Décadas. A copy of the 1601 edition of the Historia general is held in ML, 1482. 7. Buisseret, “Spanish Colonial Cartography,” 1146. 8. The first Franciscans came to New Spain as early as Francisco de Bobadilla’s 1500 campaign, and in 1505 they established the first Franciscan province. The Dominicans came in 1509, and in 1532 they established the first Dominican province. The first Augustinians came to New Spain in 1533. All the above-mentioned orders also established and maintained separate missions. 9. For greater insight into the history of the Jesuits in New Spain, see Francisco Javier Alegre, Historia de la Provincia de la Compagñia de Jesús de Nueva España, ed. Ernest J. Burrus and Félix Zbillaga, 4 vols. (Rome: Institutum Historicum S.J., 1956– 60). 10. Carlos de Sigüenza y Góngora (1645– 1700) was one of the first great intellectuals born in the Spanish Viceroyalty of New Spain. A polymath and writer, he held many colonial government and academic positions. He was a member of the Society of Jesus from 1660 to 1667, when he left the order to become a professor of mathematics in Mexico. In 1692 King Charles II named him official geographer for the colony. As royal geographer, he was part of the 1692 expedition to Pensacola Bay, Florida, under the command of Andrés de Pez, to seek out defensible frontiers against French encroachment. He mapped Pensacola Bay and the mouth of the Mississippi, and in 1693 he described the terrain in Descripción del seno de Santa María de Galve, alias Panzacola, de la Mobila y del Río Misisipi. The western tip of Santa Rosa Island was named Punta de Sigüenza in his honor. For more on Sigüenza y Góngora, see Leonard A. Irving, Don Carlos de Sigüenza y Góngora, a Mexican Savant of the Seventeenth
Century (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1929). 11. Descripción de esta Parte de la América Septentrional, esto es de lo que se llama Nueva España, y de sus Provincias descubiertas y pobladas, según el plano geográfico que sacó el año de 1641 [sic] Dn. Carlos Sigüenza y Góngora, enmendado y renovado por el Autor de este Aparato a la Chronica de Michoacán, que es el Govierno del Sr. Virrey y Capitán General de esta Nueva España y adonde se despachan correos desde la Ciudad de México, que por lo inaccesible de muchos de sus parages por lo áspero de la tierra y sus rodeos, va la explicación de sus longitudes de uno a otros por que no es lo que demuestra por el Ayre o su recto como parece. Manuscript; 75 cm width × 55 cm height. RAH, 9/4936. 12. The extraordinary value of this map was recognized by the Spanish cartographer José Antonio de Alzate y Ramírez, who would use it in 1767 when drawing up his own map of New Spain. 13. Diana Hadley, Thomas H. Naylor, and Maridith Schuetz-Miller, eds., The Central Corridor and the Texas Corridor, 1700– 1765, vol. 2, pt. 2 of The Presidio and Militia on the Northern Frontier of New Spain: A Documentary History (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1997), 143. 14. José Antonio de Villaseñor y Sánchez was an eighteenth-century geographer, historian, and mathematician in New Spain. He was born in San Luis Potosí, México, and studied at San Ildefonso in Mexico City. He became an accountant and later the official cosmographer (geographer) of New Spain. Following royal instructions, Viceroy Pedro Cebrián, 3rd count of Fuenclara, ordered him to prepare an official estimate of the population of New Spain to be transmitted to the court. Completed in April 1744, the estimate found the population to be 3,865,000. Apart from the map of New Spain, he also produced a plan of Mexico City (1750). See Alejandro Espinosa Pitman, José Antonio de Villaseñor y Sánchez, 1703– 1759 (San Luis Potosí: Universidad Autónoma de San Luis Potosí, 2003). 15. The carefully drafted 1746 autograph map that Villaseñor y Sánchez intended to attach to his book was embargoed by the censures of the Real y Supremo Consejo de Indias. Consequently, the book was published without the attachment, so the
map was printed separately in 1754 but with significantly reduced content (all such sensitive details as the courses of certain rivers and the locations of presidios were omitted). A printed edition was prepared by Giovanni Petroschi in Rome under the title Societatis Iesu In America Septentrionali pro Gloria Dei laborantis Sedium Jchnographia . . . Diu desideratae Mexicanae Provinciae divisioni, In Provinciam, et Vice=Provinciam, Humanissime annuenti Ann. 1754. BLR, 33179gm. 16. Mapa, que comprende la Frontera, de los Dominios del Rey, en la America Septentrional/ José de Urrútia and Nicolás de la Fora. [Scale ca. 1:1,000,000]. [S.l.], 1769. Manuscript map in four sheets; each 63 cm height × 160 cm width or smaller. LOC, Geography and Map Division, G4410 1769. U7 TIL. 17. Nuevo mapa geográfico de América Septentrional Española, dividida en obispados y provincias/ José Antonio de Alzate y Ramírez. [Scale ca. 1: 3,000,000]. Mexico City, 1767. Manuscript; 177 height × 210 cm width. MNM. For a printed Spanish edition of the map, see BLR, ID 31332rg. For more about the original and its printed version, see Wesley Brown, “‘Nuevo Mapa Geográfico de la América Septentrional’: José Antonio de Alzate y Ramirez’s Remarkable Map of New Spain,” Journal of the International Map Collectors’ Society 156 (March 2019): 11– 26. 18. Magali A. Carrera, “Creole Landscapes,” in Mapping Latin America: A Cartographic Reader, ed. Jordana Dym and Karl Offen (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011), 111. 19. The Spanish conquest of Florida began with the arrival of Juan Ponce de León, who reached its shores in 1513. Naming the newly discovered land “La Florida,” he claimed the territory for the Spanish crown. This claim was enlarged as several explorers (most notably Pánfilo Narváez and Hernando de Soto) and wandered as far north as the Appalachian Mountains and as far west as Texas. Consequently, the territory of Spanish Florida was much larger than the present-day state of Florida, extending over much of what is now the southeastern United States. Spanish Florida became part of the Captaincy General of Cuba and the Viceroyalty of New Spain. However, Spain never exercised real control over La Florida much beyond several settlements and forts, which were Notes to Pages 79–82
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predominantly located in present-day Florida. In 2013, on the occasion of the five hundredth anniversary of the Spanish discovery of Florida, the Tampa Bay History Center hosted a special exhibition, “Charting the Land of Flowers: 500 Years of Florida Maps,” from September 2013 to February 2014. 20. Just before the foundation of St. Augustine, in 1562, the French captain Jean Ribault established a short-lived fort, Charlesfort, at Parris Island (today’s South Carolina). Two years later French founded Fort Caroline in what is now Jacksonville, causing alarm among the Spanish government. At the same time, English incursions in the Spanish-claimed Caribbean boomed with Queen Elizabeth’s coronation in 1558 and culminated during the Anglo-Spanish War (1584– 1604) when the English privater Sir Francis Drake burned St. Augutine in 1586. 21. Marjory Stoneman Douglas and Michael Grunwald, The Everglades: River of Grass (Sarasota: Pineapple Press, 2007), 170. 22. Burrus, La obra cartográfica, 1:4. 23. The land west of the Caribbean islands was investigated between 1508 and 1519, the date when Alonso Álvarez Piñeda drew his map. Futher knowledge of Florida, acquired by the expeditions of José María Narváez (1527– 36) and Hernando De Soto (1539– 43), was reflected in the maps of Alonso de Santa Cruz (1536, 1541, and 1544). 24. Edward Joseph O’Brien, The Jesuits in Spanish Florida, or An Inquiry into the Circumstances Leading to the Abandonment of This Mission (Chicago: Loyola University, 1942), 34– 35. 25. In 1566 Pedro Martínez was killed off the coast of Florida, thus becoming the first Jesuit martyr of the New World. The remaining Jesuits were killed one after another and their missions destroyed or abandoned. The hostility of the indigenous people toward the Jesuits culminated in 1571– 72, when all the missionaries at Ajacan (St. Mary) were killed at the mission. That event led the Jesuits to leave Florida, whereupon the missions there were taken over by the Franciscans. 26. The name of the war refers to an ear severed from Robert Jenkins, the captain of a British merchant ship and an acknowledged smuggler. 27. John E. Worth, A History of Southeastern
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Indians in Cuba, 1513– 1823 (Gainesville: Florida Museum of Natural History, 2004), 6. 28. Douglas and Grunwald, The Everglades, 181. 29. José Javier Alaña (Giuseppe Savierio Alagna) (1707– 1767) was an Italian Jesuit born in Palermo. He entered the Society of Jesus in 1722 and then worked in the provinces of New Spain and at the Jesuit College in Havana until the suppression of the order in 1767. See Zambrano and Gutiérrez Casillas, Diccionario bio-bibliográfico, 15:56– 58. 30. The place-name Boca de Ratones (meaning “rocky or jagged inlet”) was originally associated with an inlet in the Biscayne Bay area of Miami. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, the term was mistakenly moved north to its current location in Palm Beach County, FL. 31. Cayos de los Mártires desde el de Güesos/ José Xavier de Alaña, 1743. Manuscript; 40.5 cm height × 28.8 cm width. AGI, MP-Florida_ Luisiana, 46. Another copy of the same map is held by the SGE. 32. Plano de la costa de la Florida desde Cayo B[i]scaino hasta el ro. de Sn. Agustin de la Florida / levantado y delineado por Juan De Liguera Antayo, piloto de la real armada. [Scale ca. 1:700,000]. Manuscript; 49 cm height × 67 cm width. LOC, Map and Geography Division, G3932.C6 1742 .L5. Plano de los Cayos de la Florida Levantado y Delineado por Juan de Liguera Antayo Piloto de la Real Armada Año de 1742 / Juan de Liguera Antayo. [Scale ca. 1:280,000]. Manuscript; 60.5 cm height × 51.5 cm width. BNE, MR/43/188. 33. Burrus, La obra cartográfica, 1:44. 34. Douglas and Grunwald, The Everglades, 183. 35. John J. Martinez, Not Counting the Cost: Jesuit Missionaries in Colonial Mexico— A Story of Struggle, Commitment and Sacrifice (Chicago: Loyola Press, 2001), 29. 36. Juan Sánchez Baquero (1548– 1619) was a Spanish Jesuit and historian. Born in Puertollano (Cidad Real), Baquero entered the order in 1568, at the age of nineteen. After he finished his studies in Mexico, he served in missions in Guadalajara and Zacatecas. Soon he became the rector of the Jesuit College in Oaxaca and served in prominent positions in the province. Noted for his knowledge of cosmography and astronomy, he was asked to join Sebastián Vizcaíno in his California expedition
(1597) but declined the invitation. See Zambrano and Gutiérrez Casillas, Diccionario bio-bibliográfico, 13:224– 25. As an eyewitness and writer, Baquero wrote a history of the pioneering years in Mexico. Féliz Ayuso edited Baquero’s chronicle in 1945. See Juan Sánchez Baquero, Fundación de la Compañia de Jesús en Nueva España, 1571– 1580, introd. Féliz Ayuso (Mexico City: Ed. Patria, 1945). 37. Burrus, La obra cartográfica, 1:4. 38. Enrico Martínez (1555– 1632) was a distinguished cartographer. Born Heinrich Martin in Hamburg, he went to Mexico in 1589 as the royal cosmographer. In 1602 he prepared a map of New Mexico and the northern part of New Spain. See Mapa de Nuevo México y del norte de la Nueva España, por Enrico Martínez. [Scale ca. 1:5,572,700.]. Manuscript; 43.5 cm height × 32.5 cm width. AGI, MP-Mexico, 49. Martínez’s map includes the territory north of the city of Mexico to the Great Plains, bounded on the west by the South Sea (Pacific Ocean) and on the east by the Seno Mexicano (Gulf of Mexico). A dotted line indicates the route followed by the expeditions of Juan de Oñate in 1598 and 1601. Martínez participated in the demarcations of the western coast of New Spain from the Puerto de la Navidad to Cape Mendocino, which were directed by Sebastián Vizcaíno in 1602. 39. Descriptió de la comarca de Mexico i obra del desagve de la Lagvna. Manuscript; 42 cm height × 55 cm width. AGI, MP-Mexico, 54. The map was attached to Martínez’s report “Relación de Enrico Martínez, arquitecto y maestro mayor de la obra del desagüe de la Laguna de México.” Huehuetoca, 20 de junio de 1608. México, 27, N.30g. AGI, MP-libros_manuscritos, 40. 40. Zambrano and Gutiérrez Casillas, Diccionario bio-bibliográfico, 13:245– 47. 41. A letter copy of Sigüenza y Góngora’s map of the valley, made by the engineer José Francisco de Cuevas Aguirre y Espinosa in 1748, is preserved in Seville. EliasTrabulse, “La obra cartográfica de don Carlos de Sigüenza y Góngora,” Caravelle 76– 77 (2001): 268. See Mapa de las aguas que por el circulo de 90 leguas vienen a la Laguna de Tescuco y de la estencion que esta y la de Chalco tenian Sacado del que en el siglo antecedente deligneo Dn. Carlos de Sigüenza. [Scale ca. 1:250,000]. [S.l.,
1748]. Manuscript; 41 cm height × 52 cm width. AGI, MP-Mexico, 164. 42. Burrus argued that Sigüenza y Góngora’s map of New Spain (1691) was actually Baquero’s map, wrongly attributed to Sigüenza y Góngora only because it was found with his papers. Ernest Burrus, “Clavigero and the Lost Sigüenza y Góngora Manuscripts,” Estudio de Cultura Náhuatl 1 (1959): 64. 43. Martinez, Not Counting the Cost, 43. 44. Charles W. Polzer and Thomas E. Sheridan, eds., The Californias and Sinaloa-Sonora, 1700– 1765, vol. 2, pt. 1 of The Presidio and Militia on the Northern Frontier of New Spain: A Documentary History (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1997), 255. 45. The map was not provided with an original title. Manuscript in color; 25.5 cm height × 37.5 cm width. ARSI, Pr. Mex. 5 f. 104 (olim Hist. Soc. 246). Burrus, La obra cartográfica, 1:14. 46. The report contains a list of all fifty-four missions with information on their inhabitants (number and ethnic group), the name of missionary in charge, the salary assigned by the king, and the sum assigned for the school for the indigenous people. For a translation of the whole Cabero’s 1662 report, see Ernest J. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography of Northwestern New Spain (Tucson: Arizona Pioneers’ Historical Soociety, 1965), 34– 37. 47. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 33. 48. Peter Masten Dunne, Early Jesuit Missions in Tarahumara (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1948), 124– 26. 49. Dunne, Early Jesuit Missions, 45. 50. Ivan Rattkay (1647– 1683), better known as Juan Maria Rattkay, was one of the first Croatian Jesuit missionaries to leave home for overseas. He was a descendant of the noble Rattkay family, whose seat was at the Castle of Veliki Tabor in northwestern Croatia. After entering the Jesuit order in 1664, Rattkay studied philosophy and theology in Graz. In 1678, at his own request, Rattkay was appointed a missionary and sent to the New World along with five other Jesuits from the German provinces. He spent three years among the Tarahumara and died under mysterious circumstances in December 1683. Mijo Korade, Ivan
Notes to Pages 86–89
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Rattkay: Izvješća iz Tarahumare [Ivan Rattkay: Accounts from Tarahumara] (Zagreb: Artresor naklada, 1998), 10– 11. 51. Spanish law required that no more than one-third of the missionaries come from countries other than Spain, so the majority of the missionaries were assigned new names and dates of birth. Ivan Rattkay thus traveled as Juan Arrasquin, a Spanish national born in Pamplona. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 10. 52. A description of the comet is found in the report to the province of Austria of the Society of Jesus, which Rattkay had sent on February 25, 1681. The report was published in: Joseph Stöcklein, [Der Neue Welt-Bott mit allerhand nachrichten deren Missionarien Soc. Iesu.] Allerhand So Lehr-als Geistreiche Brief, Schrifften und Reis-Beschreibungen . . . , [Continued by Petrus Probst in 1748 and Franciscus Keller in 1758– 61], 38 vols. (Augsburg and Graz: In Verlag Philips, Martins, und Joh. Veith seel. Erben, 1726– 48; Vienna: Johann Kaliwoda, 1748– 61), 1:81– 84. 53. Relatio Tarahumarum missionum eiusque Tarahumarae nationis terraeque descriptio. The original report is kept in the ARSI, Hist. Soc, Mex., 17, fols. 494– 505. The transcription of the original Latin text in Korade, Ivan Rattkay, 152– 241. 54. The map (manuscript; 31.5 cm height × 43.5 cm width) is untitled. It was discovered by and published in Burrus, La obra cartográfica. He was thus the first researcher to draw the attention of the scientific community to Rattkay’s work. 55. Dunne, Early Jesuit Missions, 115– 17. 56. Mirela Altic, “Missionary Cartography of Tarahumara: With Special Regard to the Map of Ivan Rattkay,” Portolan 86 (Spring 2013): 43. 57. Father Joseph Neumann, in a letter to the Czech Jesuit Franz Stowasser in 1686, described the circumstances of Rattkay’s death, revealed to him when he heard the confession of a native American woman. 58. Juan Isidro Fernandéz de Abee (1702– 1769) was born in the mining area of Cosiguriachic (Tarahumara). He entered the order in 1720. From 1732 to 1741 he served in Santiago Papasquiaro. In 1744 he relocated to Tarahumara, where he served in Cárichic until 1748. From 1749 on Abee worked in Sonora (in the Belen, Huirivis, and Navojoa
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missions). Abee served in Sinaloa (Vaca) from 1755 to 1761, when he began working in the colleges in San Luis Potosí and Parras. He was expelled from Mexico and died in Spain in 1769. Burrus, La obra cartográfica, 1:221. 59. Razon de la Fundacion y progressos que ha tenido esta mission de Jesus Carichic desde el dia 8 de Noviembre del año de 1675, Jesus de Carichic mission, July 8, 1744. BLB, M-M 1716, vol. 34. The map bears the title Mappa de la Mission de Sisoguichic y sus Pueblos de Visita. . . . Manuscript; 22 cm height × 32 cm width. 60. Adam(o) Gilg (1653– ca. 1710) was born in Roemerstadt (Rýmařov), Moravia (presentday Czech Republic). Seven years later he began his novitiate in the Society of Jesus in Freiburg, Germany. In June 1687, as a thirty-four-year-old Jesuit, he sailed from Cádiz for the New World. In 1688 he was assigned to Santa María del Pópulo mission. In 1699 Gilg accompanied Eusebio Kino on his expedition to the Colorado River. In 1705 they jointly undertook another expedition to Baja California, probably to reestablish some of the Baja missions. From 1707 on Gilg served in the mission of Mátape. He compiled vocabularies of the Seri, Eudebes, Pima, and Cocomaricopa languages. Zambrano and Gutiérrez Casillas, Diccionario biobibliográfico, 15:676– 77. 61. Delineavit hanc Geographicam Mappam & Anno 1692, Mense Februario, in Provinciam Bohemiae transmisit, P. Adamus Gilg, Societ[atis] JESU Missionarius, inter Seros. Manuscript; 30 cm height × 21 cm width. Attached to Gilg’s letter, ARSI, Boh. 108, fols. 3– 11. Another copy of the map was attached to the report by Antonio de Rojas, Mission o Rectorado de N.P. San Francisco Xavier en la Provincia de Sonora: San Miguel de los Ures, 1693 Dec. 28. [Scale ca. 1:823,680]. Manuscript in ink; 27 cm height × 38 cm width. BLB, MSS 2007/3:2. 62. Stöcklein, [Der Neue Welt-Bott],1:75– 82. In regard to the missing map, Stöcklein, the editorof Der Neue Welt-Bott, added a note where Gilg mentioned the map stating that “this map has not come to the hands of the publisher of this book.” Stöcklein, [Der Neue Welt-Bott], 1:79. 63. Gilg’s narrative was translated into in English and published in Charles D. Di Peso, Dan-
iel S. Matson, and Adamo Gilg, “The Seri Indians in 1692 as Described by Adamo Gilg, S.J.,” Arizona and the West 7, no. 1 (1965): 33– 56. 64. Based on Greenwich, the mission is situated at 29°N and 110°30′W. 65. The issue of the longitude grid on Gilg’s map is especially intriguing because it deviates significantly from the grids of other cartographers of the time, even from the maps of the same area that were drawn by Eusebio Kino shortly afterward (according to Kino’s 1696 map, the Santa María del Pópulo mission was situated at 256° east). 66. Polzer and Sheridan, The Californias and Sinaloa-Sonora, 363 and 279. 67. For greater insight into the Seri people, see Thomas E. Sheridan, ed., Empire of Sand: The Seri Indians and the Struggle for Spanish Sonora, 1645– 1803 (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1999). 68. Eusebio Francisco Kino (also Chino) (1645– 1711) was born in Segno, near the historic city of Trent in northern Italy (then under the rule of the Habsburg monarchy). He entered the Jesuit College at Trent and went on to the Jesuit College at Hall near Innsbruck, Austria. He joined the Society of Jesus in 1665. He also attended the Universities of Landsberg, Ingolstadt, Innsbruck, Munich, and Oettingen. On August 15, 1684, he took his final vows as a Jesuit. He was appointed missionary to the Seri and Guaymas Indian, and built his home mission, Nuestra Señora de los Dolores del Cosari, in 1687. Over the next thirty years he established twenty-four missions and visitas and set up the foundation for modern agriculture and livestock raising. He died shortly after midnight on March 15, 1711. For many years Kino’s grave was lost. Then, in 1966 an international team of historians and anthropologists found his grave and skeletal remains in Santa María Magdalena. The fiftieth anniversary of the discovery was commemorated in May 2016. For more on Eusebio Kino’s biography, see Herbert Eugene Bolton, Rim of Christendom: A Biography of Eusebio Francisco Kino, Pacific Coast Pioneer (New York: Russell & Russell, 1960). 69. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 10. 70. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 26. 71. Kino’s diary was translated into English, edited and annotated by Herbert Eugene Bolton.
Francisco Eusebio Kino, Kino’s Historical Memoir of Pimería Alta: A Contemporary Account of the Beginnings of California, Sonora, and Arizona, trans., ed., and annotated Herbert Eugene Bolton (Cleveland, OH: Arthur H. Clark, 1919). 72. Juan Mateo Manje arrived in Sonora in 1693 with his uncle, General Jironza, the military governor of that province. He became the lieutenant in charge of the compañía volante. He wrote an account that was published in 1954. See Juan Mateo Manje, Luz de Tierra Incógnita: Unknown Arizona and Sonora, 1693– 1721, ed. and trans. Harry J. Karns (Tucson: Arizona Silhouettes, 1954). 73. Kino, Kino’s Historical Memoir, 341. 74. Ronald L. Ives, “Navigation Methods of Eusebio Fransisco Kino, S.J.,” Arizona and the West 2, no. 3 (1960): 241. 75. Ives, “Navigation Methods,” 217. 76. According to Bolton, Kino delineated his first map as early as 1678. To illustrate his voyage from Genoa to Seville, he compiled a simple map that was intended to be sent to Ingolstadt College as part of his diary. There is no indication that the map still exists. In 1680– 81 Kino drew a celestial chart for his treatise on the comet, which was published in Mexico City in 1681. Bolton, Rim of Christendom, 50. 77. Teatro de los trabajos apostólicos de la Compa. de Jesus en la America Septentrional / Eusebio Francisco Kino. [1695– 1696]. Manuscript partially in color; 60 cm height × 82 cm width. ARSI, GF, Casetto 9, 3. This map was pirated by Nicolas de Fer, who printed Kino’s version of the map in Paris in 1705 and then again in 1720 under his name. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 68. 78. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 63. 79. Kino uses a plural (Californias) to refer to Upper and Lower California. Kino, Kino’s Historical Memoir, 357. 80. For a full list of the place-names Kino noted on his 1695– 96 map, see Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 44– 45. 81. [Map of Pimería drawn to illustrate the biography of Father Saeta], 1696– 97. Manuscript partially in color; 31 cm height × 44 cm width. ARSI, GF, Casetto 1, Numero 24. 82. Father Kino was the first European to view the Hohokam complex and name it Casa Grande.
Notes to Pages 94–102
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The site of the ruins of Casa Grande, located in present-day Coolidge, Arizona, is protected as a national monument. 83. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 17. 84. Passage par terre a la Californie Decouvert par le Rev. Pere Eusebe-François Kino Jesuite depuis 1698 jusqu’a 1701 ou l’on voit encore les Nouvelle Missions des PP. de la Compage. de Jesus. Gravée par Inselin. A Paris: Chez Nicolas le Clerc, ruë S. Jacques, proche S. Yves, à l’Image S. Lambert, 1705. Copperplate; 27 cm height × 22 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, EA707 J58l. There is a copy in a reprint of the Lettres édifiantes, vol. 8 (Paris, 1781), ML, 24170. 85. Paso por tierra a la California y sus confinantes nuevas naciones y nuevas misiones de la Compañía de IHS [ Jesús] en la América septentrional, descubierto y anaado, y demarcado por el P. Eusebio Francº Kino, jesuita, desde el año 1698 hasta el de 1701. Manuscript; 70 cm height × 50 cm width. Paris, Jesuit College of Chantilly. The most often reproduced copy of Kino’s 1701 map is held by the AGI, MP-Mexico, 95. Although some authors considered this copy to be Kino’s original, Burrus proved that was not the case. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 8. 86. Kino, Kino’s Historical Memoir, 334– 35. 87. Tabula Californiae Anno 1702 ex autoptica observatione delineata a R. P. Chino e S.J. Augsburg: 1702. Augsburg: Verlag Philips, Martins, und Joh. Veith seel. Erben, 1726. Copperplate; 42 cm height × 28 cm with. Published in Der Neue WeltBott, vol. 2, following p. 74. ML, 1861. 88. Nuevo Reyno de la Nueva Navara con sus confinates obros Reynos / Eusebio Kino. Paris: D’Anville, 1724. Copperplate; 33.5 cm height × 46 cm width. BNF, Cartes et plans, GE DD-2987 (8881). 89. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 50– 51. 90. The Pueblo Revolt of 1680, also known as Popé’s Rebellion, was an uprising of most of the indigenous Pueblo people against the Spanish colonizers in the province of Santa Fe de Nuevo México (present-day New Mexico). 91. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 52. 92. The term real de minas (royal mining settlement) signifies that a small garrison of royal troops was stationed there for the protection of the site, not that it was the property of the Crown.
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93. Polzer and Sheridan, The Californias and Sinaloa-Sonora, 452. 94. E.g., Plano (mapa) que contiene las Provincias de Sonora, Pimerias, Papagueria, Apacheria, Rios Gila y Colorado y tierras descubiertas hasta el Puerto de San Francisco en la California Septentrional y jasta el Pueblo de Oraybe en la Provincia de el Moqui, con arreglo á los diarios de el Coronel Don Antonio Crespo y de los PP. Misioneros Fr. Pedro Font y Fr. Pedro Font y Fr. Francisco Garcés de quien, los viages desde la Nueva Jamajaba en el Rio Colorado hasta la misión de San Gabriel, á las Naciones que están al Norte de esta Mision, su regreso á los Jamajabas y camino que hizo al Moqui, están señalados con lineas de puntos &. AGI, MP-Mexico, 349. 95. Juan José Díaz (1735– 1809) was born in Mexico City. He started his novitiate in 1752 and then studied theology at the Colegio Máximo. He was assigned to the Baja California missions. In 1765 he received further training at San Borja, and in 1767 he founded the Misión Santa Maria de los Ángeles, the last Jesuit mission established in Baja before the suppression of the order. He died in Ferrara, Italy. Zambrano and Gutiérrez Casillas, Diccionario bio-bibliográfico, 15:542– 43. 96. Harry W. Crosby, Antigua California:; Mission and Colony on the Peninsular Frontier, 1697– 1768 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1994), 179, 349– 50. 97. Plan de las Misiones Jesuitas y del paso por tierra de la California con sus confinantes y de nuevas Naciones en la America Septentrional desde la provincia de la Sonora hasta la Apacheria y las tierras de los Moquis donde se describen las Misiones curatos y pueblos de Indios no conversos y salvajes de las nuevas Misiones de la Compa. de J.h.s. Padre Diez, Visitador. [Scale ca. 1:1,900,000]. [S.l., 1766]. Manuscript in color; 38 cm height × 27 cm width. BNE, MR/42/619. 98. Chorographia de las missiones apostolicas, que administró antes en Topia, y la Tepeguana, y actualmente administra en Nayarit, Tarahumara, Chínipas, Cinaloa, Sonora, Pimería y California la Compañia de Jesus en la America Septentrional. [S.l., ca. 1722]. Manuscript in color; 79 cm height × 66 width. MOB, 1162-PYB-723-A. 99. In the central area of Baja California, the following missions are indicated in addition to the
presidio of Loreto: San Francisco Javier (1699), San Juan Bautista Londó (1699), Santa Rosalía de Mulegé (1705), San Juan Bautista (1705), San José de Comondú (1708), and La Purísima Concepción de Cadegomó (1720). At the same time, the mention of mission La Paz, established in 1720, is omitted, but the San Bruno, as well as two other unidentified missions are marked (San Nicolas, San Juanico). 100. Strangely enough, the “cabo del Tiburon” appeared on a map by Domingo del Castillo, which was drawn in 1541 and later reproduced in Francisco Antonio de Lorenzana, Historia de Nueva-España, escrita por su esclarecido conquistador Hernán Cortés (Mexico City: Imprenta del Supremo Gobierno, 1770), 328. The island became more important after 1729, when the Spanish military, led by Juan Bautista de Anza, invaded it. See the 1729 accounts by Juan Bautista de Anza. See also Donald T. Garate, Juan Bautista de Anza: Basque Explorer in the New World, 1693– 1740 (Renoand Las Vegas: University of Nevada Press, 2003), 133– 34. 101. This is not the only cartographic synthesis created by the Jesuits for the area of New Spain. Kino’s 1695– 96 map is one of the first such widely known syntheses. Furthermore, Joseph de Berroterán, captain of the presidio of San Francisco de Conchos, refers in his 1747 report to the map of New Spain made in 1705 by Padre Estairreyes ( Johann Steineffer). See Hadley, Naylor, and Schuetz-Miller, The Central Corridor and the Texas Corridor, 197. Unfortunately, the Steineffer map has never been identified. Since it is known that Steineffer occasionally collaborated with Eusebio Kino, it is not impossible that it was actally one of Kino’s maps. Johann Steineffer (1664– 1716) was a Moravian Jesuit who served in Pimería Alta, Tarahumara, and Sonora. He was well-known for his medical skill. 102. Polzer and Sheridan, The Californias and Sinaloa-Sonora, 277– 83, 287– 96. 103. For the diary of Pedro de Rivera y Villalón, see Thomas H. Naylor and Charles W. Polzer, Pedro de Rivera and the Military Regulations for Northern New Spain, 1724– 1729 (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1988). 104. Five of them are preserved in the AGI, MP-Mexico, 120– 24. Each of the sheets, which are
dated from 1725 to 1729, has its own title. The overall map is held by the Hispanic Society of America Collection. 105. Mirela Altic, “Military or Missionary Map? The First Topographic Map of Northern New Spain (1725– 1729),” in Mapping Empires: Colonial Cartographies of Land and Sea, ed. Alexander Kent, Soetkin Vervust, Imre Demhardt, and Nick Millea (Heidelberg and New York: Springer International, 2020), 280– 81. 106. Alegre, Historia de la Provincia de la Compagñia de Jesús de Nueva España, 4:331– 33. 107. It is, however, interesting to note that, despite the same context of creation, Álvarez Barreiro’s military map marks fewer mines, focusing simply on the depiction of missions and presidios, and entirely omitting indigenous settlements. In that sense, the Jesuit map is much more comprehensive, even more accurate than the aforementioned military map (for example, the military map does not mark Tiburón Island at all). 108. Altic, “Military or Missionary Map?,” 282– 83. 109. In this regard, the mapping of the next military inspection of the new colony of Nuevo Santander was particularly indicative. The inspection, under the guidance of Agustín López de la Cámara Alta, a lieutenant colonel of the royal infantry and engineers, resulted in a topographic map drawn by the Franciscan Father Francisco José de Haro in 1758. Dennis Reinhartz, “Maps from Inspection of the Northern Frontier of New Spain in the Second Half of the Eightenth Century,” Cartographica 3, no. 4 (1998): 91. 110. Father José Palomino (1705– 1768) was born in Veracruz, Mexico. After entering the novitiate in 1721, he studied theology at the Colegio Máximo in Mexico City. Palomino came to Sinaloa in 1737 and served there for more than thirty years. Zambrano and Gutiérrez Casillas, Diccionario biobibliográfico, 16:333– 34. 111. The report, accompanied by a map, is held by the BLB, M-M 1716, vol. 36. The map is a manuscript; 42.5 cm height × 30 cm width. 112. Ruta del paso por Tierra a la California, y de las Misiones visitadas por el Padre Jose Palomino para mejor conocimiento de las mismas en la Cinaloa Palomino fe[ci]t 7[6?]5/ José Ignacio Palomino. [Scale ca. 1:1.900,000]. [S.l., (1765?)]. Notes to Pages 110–114
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Manuscript in color; 47.5 cm height × 32 cm width. BNE, MR/42/618. 113. The date on the map, written at the very edge of the title cartouche, looks like “1705,” but the map is badly deteriorated; the correct date is probably 1765. 114. Considering the stylistic resemblance of this map to the 1766 map of Sonora by José Díaz, it is not impossible he was the unknown copyist of Palomino’s map. 115. Gerard Decorme, La obra de los jesuitas mexicanos durante la época colonial, 1572– 1767, 2 vols. (Mexico City: Antigua Librería Robredo de José Porrúa e Hijos, 1941), 2:545. 116. For more about the specifics of Jesuit authority and the evangelization of the Coras, see Laura Magriñá, “El impacto de las misiones jesuíticas en la organización política de los coras,” Antropologia 67 (2002): 23– 43. On the cultural history of Jesuit Nayarit missions, see Cecilia Gutiérrez Arriola, “Misiones del Nayar: La postrera obra de los jesuitas en la Nueva España,” Anales del Instituto de Investigaciones Estéticas 29, no. 91 (2007): 31– 68. 117. See Rick Warner, “Jesuits and Coras in Colonial Nayarit: Neogotiating Evangelization,” paper prepared for meeting of the Latin American Studies Association, Washington, DC, September 6– 8, 2001, accessed April 20, 2017, www.asa.international.pitt .edu/Lasa2001/WarnerRick .pdf. 118. José de Ortega, Apostólicos afanes de la Compañía de Jesús, escritos por un padre de la misma sagrada religión de su provincia de México (1754; Mexico City and Barcelona: Centro Francés de Estudios Mexicanos y Centroamericanos, Instituto Nacional Indigenista, 1996), 1– 223. 119. Salvador Ignacio Bustamante (1702– 1782) was born in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, Mexico. He entered the Society of Jesus in 1720 and took his final vows in 1738. From 1739 he served in Nayarit as rector of the mission of Jesús María y José. In 1744 he served as visitator and superior. After 1747 he served as rector of the college of Celaya, and from 1751 as rector of the college in San Luis Potosí. From about 1761 he worked at the college in Pátzcuaro. After the suppression in 1767, owing to his age and infirmities he was allowed to stay in Puebla. See Zambrano and Gutiérrez Casillas, Diccionario bio-bibliográfico, 15:365– 67. 120. Sierra de el Nayarit, ya nuevo Reyno de
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Note s to Pag e s 114– 118
Toledo con sus confines, conquistada año 1722, y administrada por los Missioneros de la Compañía de Jesus / Salvador Ignacio Bustamante 1745. Manuscript in color; 21 cm height × 40 cm width. Papers Relating to the Jesuits in Baja California & Other Northern Regions in New Spain, BLB, MSS M-M 1716, vol. 10, pp. 1– 6. 121. Plano corográphico de el Nuevo Reyno de Toledo, Provincia de S[a]n Joseph de el Nayarit cuya Capital, que es la Mesa de el Tonat o Sol, se halla situada en los 22 grados y 23 minutos de Latitud Boreal y en los 262 de Longitud, tomado el primer Meridiano en la Isla de S[an]ta Cruz de Tenerife. Levantado de orden del Ex[celentísi]mo S[eño]r D[o]n Juan de Acuña, Marqués de Casafuerte [ . . . ], por D[o]n Francisco Alvarez Barreiro [ . . . ], cuia demarcacion siguió las ordenes de el Brigadier de los Reales Exércitos Don Pedro de Rivera Villalón. 1727. [Scale ca. 1:500,000]. Manuscript map in color; 49 cm height × 65.5 cm width. AGI, MP-Mexico, 120. 122. Johann Nentwich (1713– 1768), better known by the hispanicized form of his name, Juan Nentwig, was born in Glatz, Bohemia (now Kłodzko, Poland), on March 28. He entered the order at Glatz in 1734 (some authors cite the year 1744 as the beginning of his Jesuit life). After he ended his studies there in 1744, Nentwig applied for and obtained permission to go to the West Indies. He sailed to America in 1750. Nentwig died on September 11, on his journey to Guadalajara. He was buried at Jala (Xala), in the municipality of Santa María del Oro, in the state of Nayarit. Zambrano and Gutiérrez Casillas, Diccionario biobibliográfico, 16:204– 5. 123. Juan Nentvig, Rudo ensayo: A Description of Sonora and Arizona in 1764, trans. [from MS.], clarified, and ann. Alberto Francisco Pradeau and Robert R. Rasmussen (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1980), xx. 124. Polzer and Sheridan, The Californias and Sinaloa-Sonora, 256. 125. The narrative was first published as Juan Nentvig, Rudo Ensayo, tentativa de una Prevencional Descripción Geographica de la Provincia de Sonora, ed. Joaquín García Icazbalceta, Colección de Documentos para la historia de México (Mexico City: Librería de J. M. Andrade, 1853), 16:489– 616, followed by Nentvig, Rudo Ensayo, tentativa
de una Prevencional Descripción Geographica de la Provincia de Sonora, sus terminos y confines: Ó mejor, Colección de materiales quien lo supiere mejor; Compilada así de Noticias adquiridas por el Colector en sus Viajes por casi toda ella, como Subministradas por los Padres Missioneros y Practicos de la Tierra; Dirigida al remedio de ella, por un Amigo del Bien Comun, ed. Thomas Smith Buckingham (St. Augustine, FL: Munsell, 1863). The first Englishlanguage edition was Nentvig, A Description of the Province of Sonora, trans. and ann. Theodore E. Treutlein (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1949). The most recent English-language edition was published in 1980. 126. Nentvig, Rudo ensayo (1980), xii. 127. Plano corográfico de la Sonora y Pimería, provincias de la América Septentrional . . . / delineado Padre Juan Nentwig 1764. Manuscript; 84 cm height × 112 cm width. BL, Add. MS. 34.240 B. There are at least three copies of Nentwig’s map. Two of them are held by the MNM: “Extracto de Noticias de Sonora sacado de Manuscritos del Docto Cav. D. Eug. Sta. Eliza que intitula Descripción de Californias,” Ms. 567, Virreinato de Méjico, tomo I, doc. 13, fols. 287– 300v; and the 1785 “Descripción geográfica, natural y curiosa de la Provincia de Sonora por un amigo de el servicio de Dios y de el Rey Nuestro Señor. Año de 1764,” Ms. 567, Virreinato de Méjico, tomo I, doc. 2, fols. 6v– 34v. The third is the 1792 “Descripción geográfica, natural y curiosa de la Provincia de Sonora por un amigo de el servicio de Dios y de el Rey Nuestro Señor. Año de 1764,” RAH, Colección de Memorias de Nueva España, Materiales para la Historia de Sonora, tomo XVI, fols. 1r– 103rl. 128. AGNMx, Provincias internas, vol. 86, fols. 332– 33. 129. Nentvig, Rudo ensayo (1980), xv. 130. Bernhard Middendorff (1723– 1794) was born on October 14, in the diocese of Münster, Westphalia, Germany. He entered the Society of Jesus at the age of eighteen. After he finished his education in 1754, he started his journey to New Spain, leaving Würzburg and arriving in Cádiz. He reached Mexico City and left for Sonora in 1756. At the time he started his cartographic venture with Nentwig in early 1760s, he served as a missionary at the mission of Movas with three visitas and remained there until the suppression of the order
in 1767. After reaching Spain, he spent seven years in prison. Upon his release in 1776, he returned to Germany. 131. See Arthur D. Gardiner, “Letter of Father Middendorff, S.J., Dated from Tucson 3 March 1757: Earliest Known Letter from Tucson by Her First Resident Missioner, Now Published for the First Time, in Its Bicentennial Year,” Kiva 22, no. 4 (1957): 1– 10. 132. Pimería Alta con los ríos Colorado y Gila, según las observaciones más recientes retratada por Don N. N. Anville. Manuscript in color; 29 cm height × 40 cm width. AGI, MP-México, 206. 133. Nentvig, Rudo ensayo (1980), 6. 134. That kind of free representation of a place at a time of siege was very common in European practice— for example, when representing the siege of European fortresses by the Ottomans. Small towns attacked by a small army were sometimes depicted as well-fortified towns under siege by a large and well-armed army. Such unrealistic and exaggerated depictions intensified the impression of the severity of battle and the importance of victory over the enemy. 135. For a general overview of the history of mapping of Baja California, see Miguel LeónPortilla, Cartografía y crónicas de la antigua California (Mexico: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, 2011). For a broader historical context of Spanish entrada cartography, see Dennis Reinhartz and Gerald D. Saxon, eds., The Mapping of the Entradas into the Greater Southwest (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1998); and John L. Kessell, Spain in the Southwest: A Narrative History of Colonial New Mexico, Arizona, Texas and California (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2002). 136. Cortés’s 1539 map is the earliest cartographic depiction of Baja California, still showing the southern half of the peninsula without a connection to the mainland. See AGI, MP-Mexico, 6. The map is sometimes dated 1535 because of a notation on an insert sheet in AGI, Patronato 21, no. 2, ramo 4, fol. 10, which says that the map was transferred to another file, but that it depicts the land discovered by Cortés on May 3, 1535. Harry Kelsey, “Spanish Entrada Cartography,” in The Mapping of the Entradas into the Greater Southwest, ed. Dennis Reinhartz and Gerald Saxon (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1998), 86. Notes to Pages 118–121
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137. In 1539 Cortés sent the navigator Francisco de Ulloa (?– 1540) northward along the Gulf and Pacific coasts of Baja California. Sailing north from Acapulco, Ulloa reached the head of the California Gulf (naming it the “Sea of Cortés” in honor of his patron). After sailing the eastern and western coasts of California, he realized that there was no passage between California and the mainland. The 1541 expedition under Hernando de Alarcón ascended the lower Colorado River and confirmed Ulloa’s findings. 138. Domingo del Castillo piloto me fecit en Mexico año del nascimbiento de N. S. Jesu Chisto de M.D.XLI. Navarro sc. Mexico, año 1769. Copperplate: 21.5 cm height × 26 cm width. ML, 809. The only surviving copy appears to be the one made in the eighteenth century and published by Francisco Antonio de Lorenzana (1770). The map is folded and tipped in following p. 328. 139. Peter Masten Dunne, Black Robes in Lower California (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1952), 354. 140. Herbert E. Bolton, “The Black Robes of New Spain,” Catholic Historical Review 21, no. 3 (1935): 275. 141. Delineación de la Nueva Provincia de S[an] Andrés, del Puerto de la Paz, y de las Islas circumvecinas de las Californias, ó Carolinas, que al Excell[entísi]mo Señor D[on] Thomás Antonio Lorenzo Manuel Manrique de la Zerda Enríquez y Afán de Ribera Porto-Carrero y Cárdenas, Conde de Paredes, Marqués de la Laguna, Comendador de la Moraleja en la Orden y Caballería de Alcántara, del Consejo de su Magestad, Cámara y Junta de Guerra de Indias, su Virrey, Lugarteniente, Governador y Capitán General de la Nueba España y Presidente de la R[ea]l Audiencia de al Nueba España y Chanzellaría della, dedica y consagra la Mission de la Comp[añí]a de IESVS de dichas Californias ó Carolinas en 21 de Dic[iembre] día del Glorioso Apóstol de las Indias S[anto] Thomas, de 1683 año. Manuscript; 38.3 cm height × 53.8 width. AGI, MP-Mexico, 77. 142. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 38. 143. Description de la fortificación y R[ea]l de S[an] Bruno de Californias. Manuscript; 59 cm height × 41 cm width. AGI, MP-Mexico, 76. 144. According to Kino’s extant letters, in 1683 he also made two maps of Lower California; one
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he sent to the Duchess of Aveiro, and the other to Father Francisco de Castro. Also, he made a chart of Port San Lucas (Sinaloa), which he sent to Scherer. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 20. 145. Kino sent another copy of the same map to Father Wolfgang Leinberer, his professor of theology in Ingolstadt. Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 16. 146. Delineatio Nova et Vera Partis Australis Novi Mexici, cum Australi Parte Insulae Californiae Saeculo Priori ab Hispanis Detectae. Copperplate in color; 23 cm height × 34.5 cm width. BRL, ID 27768. Kino’s authorship is not noted on the map, but it appears in the text that Scherer published along the map. For the English translation of the Latin text, see Burrus, Kino and the Cartography, 39– 42. 147. Mission San Francisco Javier and Visita de San Juan Bautista Londó (1699), Missions San Juan Bautista Malibat (1705), Santa Rosalía de Mulegé (1705), San José de Comondú (1708), La Purísima Concepción de Cadegomó (1720), Nuestra Señora del Pilar de La Paz Airapí (1720), Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe de Huasinapi (1720), Santiago de Los Coras (1721), Nuestra Señora de los Dolores del Sur Chillá (1721), San Ignacio Kadakaamán (1728), Estero de las Palmas de San José del Cabo Añuití (1730), Santa Rosa de las Palmas (Misión Todos Santos) (1733), Misión San Luis Gonzaga Chiriyaqui (1740), Misión Santa Gertrudis (1752), Misión San Francisco Borja (1762), Visita de Calamajué (Visita de Calamyget) (1766), and Misión Santa María de los Ángeles (1767). Crosby, Antigua California, 397– 401. 148. The explorations, conducted by Juan de Ugarte between 1719 and 1721, primarily focused on the mouth of the Colorado River. Guillermo Strafford, Ugarte’s pilot navigator, compiled a hydrographic map of the Sea of Cortez, which Ugarte attached to his diaries (the map has not yet been found). 149. Ferdinand Konščak (1703– 1759), born in Varaždin, was one of the most famous Croatian missionaries and explorers. Konščak acquired his knowledge of geography and cosmology during the schooling he received first as a novice in the Society of Jesus at Trencsén (present-day Trenčín, Slovakia) and then in Graz, Austria. From 1732 until his death he worked at the mission of San
Ignacio Kadakaamán, primarily as assistant to the superior of the mission, Sebastian Sistiaga, and from 1747 as superior of the mission. In 1748 and 1758 he visited all the Californian missions in the role of visitator. He participated in the establishment of new missions in the north of the peninsula (Santa Gertrudis, established in 1752, and San Francisco de Borja, established in 1762, three years after his death). He died at the mission of San Ignacio. A rocky, isolated island in the northern Gulf of California was named Isla Consag in his honor. On the 250th anniversary of his death, a monument was erected in the Mexican city of Ensenada testifying to the indelible mark that this explorer left on California’s history. Davorin Krmpotić, Life and Works of the Reverend Ferdinand Konšćak, S.J., 1703– 1759, and Early Missionaries in California (Boston: Stratford, 1923), 1– 13. 150. The rebels killed several missionaries, among them Nicolás Tamaral at the Misión San José del Cabo and Lorenzo Carranco (along with his two servants) at the Misión de Santiago, and Don Manuel Andrés Romero, a guard at La Paz. Soon almost all the southern missions were destroyed. 151. Edward W. Vernon, A Maritime History of Baja California (Santa Barbara, CA: Viejo Press, 2009), 144. 152. Crosby, Antigua California, 122. 153. Seno de la Bahia de La Paz en la California en su Costa Oriental con puerto de dificil entrada de vientos del Poniente la delinio con perfiles y profundidades D. Rafael Villar del Val Capitan de la Marina de S.M. en el Mes de Yunio de 1739, Consag dibuxo. Manuscript in color; 27.5 cm height × 27.5 cm width. BNE, MR/42/620. 154. A Spanish braza (fathom) is equal to 1.852 meters, or one one-thousandth of a nautical mile, whereas an English fathom is equal to 1.8288 meters. 155. Within the Bahía de La Paz, this islet closed off another, smaller bay known as Pichilingue Bay. It is this bay at which Cortés is assumed to have established the Santa Cruz colony. 156. Michael W. Mathes, “The Camino Real: California’s Mission Trail,” in Pioneer Trails West, ed. E. Donald Worcester (Caldwell: Caxton, 1985), 76. 157. Mirela Altic, “Baja California in 1739: An
Early Exploration of Ferdinand Konščak,” Terrae Incognitae 47, no. 2 (2015): 120– 21. 158. Crosby, Antigua California, 125. 159. Around 1832 the map was purchased by George Witt, a famous English physician and avid collector. After that the map vanished without a trace, only to reappear in public in 1990 at an auction at Sotheby’s in London. The map was bought by the National Library of Spain, where it is held to this day. Altic, “Baja California,” 124. 160. Manje, Luz de Tierra Incógnita, 288– 89. 161. “Derrotero del viaje, que en descubrimiento de la costa oriental de Californias, hasta el Río Colorado . . . hizo el padre Fernando Consag . . . por orden del padre Cristóbal de Escobar y Llamas, provincial de Nueva España de la Compañía de Jesús; empieza en 9 de junio de 1746.” One copy of the diary is today also preserved in the BNM, Fondo Reservado, Colectión Archivo Franciscan (4/66.1, fols. 1– 14v); another in the HL, Manucript Collection (HM 1293); and a third in the AGI, Seville, Spain. 162. Seno de California y su Costa Oriental nuevamente descubierta y registrada Desde el Cabo de la Vírgenes hasta su Termino que es Rio Colorado por el P. Fernando Consag de la Compañía de Jesús Missionero de Californias 1746. Manuscript; 74 cm height × 64.5 cm width. HL, HM 1293. 163. Mirela Altic, “Ferdinand Konščak: Cartographer of the Compañia de Jesús and his Maps of Baja California,” in History of Cartography: International Symposium of the ICA, 2010, ed. Elri Liebenberg and Imre Demhardt, Lecture Notes in Geoinformation and Cartography 2012 (Berlin: Springer, 2012), 10– 14. 164. The map has the same title as his map of the northern portion of the peninsula. There are at least three manuscript copies preserved, one in the AGI, MP, Mexico, 576; another in the HL (HM 1293); and a third in the BL, Add. 17660.C.(1). 165. Charles E. Chapman, Catalogue of Materials in the Archivo General de Indias for the History of Pacific Coast and American Southwest, University of California Publications in History 8 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1919), 102. 166. Miguel Venegas and Marcos Burriel, Noticia de la California y de su conquista temporal, y spiritual . . . (Madrid: Viuda de Manuel Fernández, Notes to Pages 126–131
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y del Supremo Consejo de la Inquisición, 1757), 3:140– 95. 167. Seno de California, y su costa oriental nuevamente descubierta, y registrada desde el Cabo al las Virgenes, hasta su termino, que es el Rio Colorado año 1747. por el Pe Ferdinando Consag de la Compa. de IHS, Mission. en la California. [Madrid]: engraved by Joseph Gonzales, [1757]. Copperplate; 31 cm height × 29 cm width. BLR, ID 12928. 168. Mapa de la California, su golfo y provincias fronteras en el Continente de Nueva Espagna. [Madrid]: Is. Peña sculp. 1757. Copperplate; 36.3 cm height × 31.2 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, B757 V455n. 169. On his expedition in 1751 he crossed the middle part of the peninsula, where he founded a new missionary outpost that he christened Santa Gertrudis. In the diary of the 1751 expedition Konščak explicitly mentioned the field survey and mapping of the region. In 1753 he explored the sources of fresh water and fertile land for the establishment of new missions in central California (Sierra Madre). Eventually Konščak decided to put his experience and knowledge of all three expeditions into literary form in A Comprehensive Description of the People and the Land of Lower California, known as the Descripción compendiosa. Konščak’s narrative was included in a manuscript compiled in 1774 by Pedro Alonso O’Crouley with the title Idea compendiosa del Reyno de Nueva España, but incorrectly attributed to Father Norberto Ducrue, producing confusion in most subsequent researchers. Although the Descripción compendiosa is not signed, we know that Konščak is its author. In fact, the handwriting of the Descripción has an addition titled Addiciones a las noticias contendias el la Descripcion compendiosa de lo descubierto y conocido de la California. On two copies of the Addiciones there is a subsequent note that speaks of Konščak in the third person, and it explicitly names him as the author of the Descripción compendiosa. See Mirela Altic, “Croatian Missionary Ferdinand Konščak (1703– 1759) and His Explorations in the Early Printed Books on Baja California,” in Legacies of the Book: Early Missionary Printing in Asia and Americas, ed. Antoni Ücerler and Xiaoxin Wu (Leiden and Boston: Brill, in press). 170. Wenceslaus Linck (Wenceslau)
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(1736– after 1790) was born in Bohemia. He entered the Jesuit order at age eighteen and studied at Brünn (Brno) and Prague. In New Spain he continued his studies in Mexico City and Puebla between 1756 and 1761. In 1762 he was sent to Baja California, initially to Santa Gertrudis, at that time the northernmost Jesuit establishment. After preparing under the Santa Gertrudis missionary Georg Retz, Linck moved north in the same year to found San Francisco de Borja Adac among the northern Cochimí. Later he also administered the mission at San Borja. When the Jesuits were expelled from Baja California, Linck returned to Bohemia, where he was still living in 1790. For Linck’s diary, see Ernest Burrus, ed., Wenceslaus Linck’s Reports and Letters, 1762– 1778 (Los Angeles: Dawson’s Book Shop, 1967). 171. Baegert included Konščak’s map to his narrative without supplementing it with Kino’s information on the mainland; therefore, this is the only printed edition of Konščak’s map signed with his name. Also, it is the only edition in which the route of Konščak’s famous 1746 expedition is marked. The map was published under the title California per P. Ferdinandum Consak S.I. et alia. Copperplate; 24 cm height × 19.5 cm width. ML, 15663. 172. Kaart van het Westelyk Gedeelte van Nieuw Mexico en van California: volgens de laatste ontdekkingen der Jesuiten en anderen / Isaak Tirion, Amsterdam 1765. Copperplate in color; 36 cm height × 33 cm width. The map was included in Tirion’s well-regarded Nieuwe en beknopte handatlas. 173. Mark Burkholder, From Impotence to Authority: The Spanish Crown and the American Audiencias, 1687– 1808 (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1977), 83– 87. 174. Kenneth Andrien, Crisis and Decline: The Viceroyalty of Peru in the Seventeenth Century (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1985), 200– 202. 175. Buisseret, “Spanish Colonial Cartography,” 1162. 176. Esta es la cordillera en que habita la nación Chiriguana, que por la parte del Este confina con la provincia de los Charcas en distancia de 170 leguas de longitud [sic] Norte Sur, y de longitud por lo más angosto 20. Manuscript; 38 cm height ×
40 cm width. AGI, MP-Buenos_Aires, 12. The map was attached to the letter sent by Juan López de Cepeda on February 18, 1588. 177. Peruviae auriferae regionis typus. Didaco Mendezio auctore. Antwerp: Abraham Ortelius, [ca. 1584]. 178. José de Acosta (1539 or 1540– 1600), born in Medina del Campo, Spain, was a Spanish Jesuit missionary and naturalist in Latin America. In 1553 Acosta became a novice in the Society of Jesus, and in 1570 he started his voyage to Peru. After almost fifteen years of service, Acosta was called back to Spain and sailed home in the fleet of 1587. There he filled the chair of theology at the Roman college in 1594 as well as other important positions, such as head of the Jesuits’ college at Valladolid. At the time of his death in his sixtieth year, he was rector of the college at Salamanca. 179. Athanasius Kircher (1602– 1680), born in Geisa, near Fulda, Germany, was a German Jesuit scholar and polymath who published around forty major works, most notably in the fields of comparative religion, geology, and medicine. Kircher has been compared to his fellow Jesuit Roger Boscovich and to Leonardo da Vinci for his enormous range of interests, and he has been honored with the title “Master of a Hundred Arts.” His most important book on geography and cartography, Mundus Subterraneus, includes many maps, even of such imaginary places as the island of Atlantis. For a general overview of Kircher’s work, see P. Conor Reilly, Athanasius Kircher: A Master of a Hundred Arts, 1602– 1680 (Wiesbaden: Edizioni del Mondo, 1974); and Paula Findlen, ed., Athanasius Kircher: The Last Man Who Knew Everything (New York and London: Routledge, 2004). For the broader cultural implications of Kircher’s work, see Bradley J. Cavallo, “The Catholic Cosmos Made Small: Athanasius Kircher and His Museum in Rome,” Athanor 30 (2012): 49– 55. 180. Mappa Fluxus et Refluxus rationes in Isthmo Americano, in Freto Magellanico, caeterisque Americae Litoribus exhibens / Athanasius Kircher, Amsterdam, 1665. Copperplate, colored by hand; 34 cm height × 41.3 cm width. ML, 13328. Published in Kircher, Mundus Subterraneus, vol. 1, following p. 154. 181. Tabula qua Hydrophylacium Andium exhibetur quo universa America Australis innumeris
fluviis lacubus que irrigatur. Copperplate; 34 cm height, 41.3 cm width. Published in Kircher, Mundus Subterraneus, vol. 1, following p. 75. An edition in Dutch, D’Onder-Aardse Weereld, was published by Jan Janssonius (Amsterdam, 1682). ML, 3858. 182. David Buisseret, “Jesuit Cartography in Central and South America,” in Jesuit Encounters in the New World: Jesuit Chroniclers, Geographers, Educators and Missionaries in the Americas, 1549– 1767, ed. Joseph A. Gagliano and Charles E. Ronan (Rome: Institutum Historicum Societatis Jesu, 1997), 125. 183. Juan Ramón Koenig (1625– 1709) was a Flemish Jesuit who came to Peru in 1647 in the company of the viceroy, the Count of Alba de Aliste, who appointed him chaplain of the hospital of Espiritu Santo. Koenig taught various subjects at the college of San Marcos, especially cosmography. To make observations of latitude and longitude, he constructed several mathematical instruments that could not be obtained in Peru. In 1677 he was appointed the successor to Francisco Lozano in the chair of mathematics and was also appointed royal cosmographer. In 1781 he engraved with his own hands a map of Peru on a silver plate, which was highly praised by the French geographer Louis Feuillet. When the viceroy, the Duke of La Palata, resolved in 1682 to fortify the city of Lima, Koenig, together with General Venegas Osorio, drew the plan for the fortifications and directed its execution. During his last years he accumulated much material for a geography of Peru, but unfortunately, after his death a friend burned nearly all his papers to avoid making his private matters public, and thus most of his manuscripts were lost. See “Koenig, Juan Ramon,” in Appleton’s Cyclopædia of American Biography, ed. James Grant Wilson and John Fiske (New York: D. Appleton, 1888), 3:570. 184. Apart from Juan Ramón Koenig, another Jesuit became royal cosmographer of the Viceroyalty of Peru. Johann Röhr (1691– 1756), also known as Juan Rehr, who worked as a missionary among the Moxos from 1728, was appointed royal cosmographer in 1749, and also head of the chair of mathematics at the college of San Marcos. Because of Röhr’s expertise in construction, the archbishop of Lima entrusted him with the reconstruction of the cathedral city. He also designed the Santiago Apostol Church, located in the Plaza Mayor de Notes to Pages 136–139
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Surco Viejo in Santiago de Surco. It is not known whether he produced any maps. Johannes Meier and Uwe Glüsenkamp, Peru (1617– 1768), vol. 5 of Jesuiten aus Zentraleuropa in Portugiesisch- und Spanisch-Amerika: Ein bio-bibliographisches Handbuch (Münster: Aschendorff Verlag, 2013), 270– 78. 185. Carta geográphica de las Prouinçias de la Gouernación del Río de la Plata, Tucumán, y Paraguay. Con parte de las confinantes, Chile, Perú, Sancta Cruz, y Brasil. Delineada por el Doctor D. Iuan Ramón, Doctor en Theología, Capellán de Su Magestad en Su Real Capilla de Lima, Cathedrático de Mathemáticas de la Real Vniversidad, y Cosmógrapho Mayor del Reyno del Perú. Año de 1683. [Scale ca. 1:6,500,000]. Manuscript in color; 43 cm height × 59 cm width. AGI, MP-Buenos_ Aires, 29. 186. Furtado, Oráculos da geografia, 383. 187. On the general history of the Jesuits in Peru, see Rubén Vargas Ugarte, Historia de la Compañía de Jesús en el Perú, 4 vols. (Burgos: Imp. de Aldecoa, 1963– 65). 188. Meier and Glüsenkamp, Peru, 6– 26. 189. The Franciscan missionary efforts in Peru were launched by Juan de los Santos after 1527 and followed by those of Marcos de Niza in 1531– 32. For the first twenty years evangelization progressed slowly in Peru owing to the animosity between the indigenous population and the Spanish invaders. In 1549 a supervisor was sent to Lima to coordinate all Franciscans in the southern part of the continent, but it was not until 1553 that Peru saw permanent Franciscan establishments. 190. One famous attack upon a Spanish mission in 1628 resulted in the enslavement of sixty thousand indigenous people. This expedition alone was responsible for the destruction of most of the Jesuit missions of Spanish Guairá. 191. For more about the Mojos (Moxos) and their culture, see William M. Denevan, The Aboriginal Cultural Geography of the Llanos de Mojos of Bolivia (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1966). 192. Descubrimiento del cerro y provincia de Tanata por el Doctor Don Juan Ramón, presbítero, entre la ciudad de la Plata y la Paz y el río Mamoré. AGI, MP-Buenos_Aires, 295. 193. The city was first founded in 1561 by the
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Spanish explorer Ñuflo de Chavez about 200 km (124 miles) east of its current location to function as the capital of the newly formed province of Moxos. After its founding, the city was moved several times until it was finally established on the Pirai River in the late sixteenth century. 194. Acosta probably passed through Moxos on his way to the neighboring Chiriguano territory when he accompanied the viceroy during his unsuccessful expedition against the fierce Chiriguanos (a Guaraní group who lived in what is today eastern Bolivia). In 1564 the Chiriguanos destroyed two Spanish settlements in eastern Bolivia, which set off a war between the Spaniards and the Chiriguanos. In 1574 the viceroy of Peru, Francisco de Toledo, led a large— and unsuccessful— invasion into Chiriguano territory, and in 1584 the Spanish declared a “war of fire and blood” against the Chiriguanos. In 1594 the Chiriguanos forced the abandonment of the Spanish settlement of Santa Cruz and its relocation to the present site of the city of Santa Cruz de la Sierra. 195. Meier and Glüsenkamp, Peru, 78. 196. Relación al Provincial de Perú padre Luis Jacinto de Contreras de lo sucedido en la jornada de los Mojos el año de 1667. Juan de Soto, La Plata 30 de enero de 1668. ARSI, Perú 20, fols. 130– 138v. 197. The following can be read on fol. 138r: “I am including here the map and the topography as drawn up and described by Father Juan de Guevara, an expert in these representations.” The map was originally untitled. Manuscript; 22.5 cm height × 31 cm width. Unfortunately, almost nothing is known about Father Guevara except that he was a resident of Chuquisaca. See Vargas Ugarte, Historia de la Compañía, 3:173. 198. Later missions were Desposorios de Nuestra Señora (1694), San Miguel (1696), San Pedro (1697), San Pablo (1703), San Luís (1698), San Rosa I (del Itenes, 1705), Concepción (1708), Santa Ana (1709), San Joaquín (1709), Exaltación (1709), Tres Santos Reyes (1710), San Juan Bautista (1710), San Martín (1717), Santa María Magdalena (also known as San Ramón, 1720), Desposorios de Nuestra Señora (among the Baures, 1723), San Miguel (among the Baures, 1725), Patrocinio de Nuestra Señora (1730), San Nicolás (1740), Santa Rosa II (1743), and San Simón (1744). See Meier
and Glüsenkamp, Peru, 81– 4. Of these, the two missions of Santa Rosa del Itenes and San Miguel, occupied chiefly by the Muré, Meque, and Mocatona natives, were entirely broken up by the raids of the Portuguese slave hunters subsequent to 1742; the survivors were removed to other foundations. All of today’s major towns within the Llanos region were originally Jesuit missions. Denevan, The Aboriginal Cultural Geography, 31. 199. The oldest Jesuit account of that era is Diego de Eguiluz, Historia de la mision de Mojos en la República de Bolivia: escrita en 1696 (Lima: Impr. Del Universo, 1884). The account is based on reports that Eguiluz, a Jesuit leader in Lima, received from the padres in Moxos; it does not mention a map. 200. María José Diaz Gálvez, “Pasado y presente del arte de las misiones de Mojos” (Ph.D. diss., Universidad Complutense de Madrid, 2015), 100. 201. According to Furlong, this map was prepared in 1756 by Javier Iraizos (1725– 1763), a Jesuit missionary born in Cochabamba who served among the Moxos. See Guillermo Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica del Río de la Plata (Buenos Aires: Talleres S. A. Casa Jacobo Peuser, 1936), 1:87. However, after the original account by P. Rotalde of 1716 was found in the ARSI with the same map attached, it was quite clear that the map could not have been prepared by Iraizos in 1756. 202. Mission de Mojos de la Compañia de IHS [ Jesus] de el Perú / P. Ganiere sculp. [1713]. Copperplate; 44 cm height × 57 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, Cabinet Ge713 / 1. 203. Cypriano Baraza (also Barace) (1641– 1702) was a Spanish Jesuit, missionary, and martyr who was born in Isaba in Navarra, Spain. Baraza studied philosophy and theology in Valencia. He arrived in America in 1673 at the age of twenty-nine and served as a missionary among the Moxos for twenty-seven years before he was martyred in 1702 by the Baures, a tribe living to the east of the province of Moxos. Balthazar de Espinosa (1679– 1709) was born in Pisco, Peru. He entered the Society of Jesus in Lima in 1698. After studying theology, he was assigned to the missions in Moxos. At first he worked in the mission at Loreto; he was then entrusted with the task of establishing reductions
among the Movimas, where he founded the mission of San Lorenzo in 1709 (soon abandoned). He was martyred by the Movimas in 1709. See Vargas Ugarte, Historia de la Compañía, 3:61– 62. 204. For more about the local population of Moxos, see Alfred Métraux, The Native Tribes of Eastern Bolivia and Western Matto Grosso (Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1942). 205. Antonio Garriga (1662– 1733) was born in Palma de Mallorca, Spain. In 1696, after completing his thesis in theology there, he arrived in Peru in 1696 and was assigned to the Moxos missions, where he worked with Cypriano Baraza. Garriga was later appointed the provincial of Peru (1714– 16) and then the procurator of the missions of Moxos in Lima (1723– 33). In 1715 he visited the province of Moxos with the aim of establishing a demarcation between the local reductions. He died in Lima. Vargas Ugarte, Historia de la Compañía, 3:44– 45, 87– 88. 206. Año de 1715. Mapa de la Misión de Moxos de la Compañia de Jesús, en la Provincia del Perú. Dibujado para señalamiento de linderos por el Padre Antonio Garriga, Provincial de dicha Provincia. Escala de 40 leguas. See Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:32. 207. Mission des Moxes, établie par les PP. de la Compagnie de Jesus dans le Pérou. A Paris: Chez Nicolas le Clerc, 1717. Copperplate; 20.5 cm height × 16.5 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, EA707 J58l. Published in Lettres édifiante, vol. 12 (Paris, 1717), preceding p. 1. 208. Mission Bey den Moschen durch die Iesuiter von Peru Gestifft [Augsburg & Graz] [Heirs of Phillip, Martin & Johann Veith: 1726]. Copperplate; 18.4 cm height x13 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, JA726 J58a / 1-SIZE. Published in Stöcker, Der Neue Welt-Bott, vol. 2, following p. 62. 209. The fort was begun in 1776 and completed in 1783 and is one of only two forts that the Portuguese Empire built in the inner regions of Brazil. The Portuguese built it to secure their border against the expanding Spanish Empire, which controlled the areas to the southwest of Rondônia. Military use of the fort was abandoned in 1889. 210. Karl Hirschko (1721– 1796) was born in Wrocław, Poland. He entered the Jesuit order in
Notes to Pages 145–150
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Głogów in 1736 and studied philosophy and theology at the Jesuit college in Olomouc, Moravia. From 1751 to 1768 worked in Peru as a missionary. Upon the suppression, he returned to Europe to work in Germany and Austria. He died in Vienna. Meier and Glüsenkamp, Peru, 214– 16. 211. Descripción Geográfica del Río Mamoré o Madera en la América Austral del Dominio de la Corona de España. Manuscript in color; 47.5 cm height × 62 cm width. AGI, MP-Buenos_ Aires, 145. 212. The manuscript, known as Memorial (May 1, 1782), contains a historical and geographical description of the region. AGI, MP-Charcas, 576. 213. [Noticia de las Misiones de Mojos]. Juan de Beingolea, c. 1763. En Informe del Gobernador de Santa Cruz, Alonso Berdugo, al rey sobre las misiones de Mojos, 8 de enero de 1764. See Vargas Ugarte, Historia de la Compañía, 3:98. The map is entitled “Misiones de Mojos a cargo de los jesuitas. Año 1764.” Manuscript; 44 cm height × 53 cm width. AECID, Biblioteca Hispánica, Mapa 1424. 214. This was the first Portuguese fort built near the location of the old Spanish mission of Santa Rosa on the lower Guaporé River. The fort was rebuilt twice: in 1769, when it was renamed Fort Bragança, and again in 1776, when it was named Fort Príncipe da Beira. Francismar Alex Lopes de Carvalho, “Imperial Rivalry and Frontier Commerce: Some Aspects of Contraband between Spanish Missions of Mojos and Chiquitos and Portuguese Capitania of Mato Grosso (c. 1767– 1800),” Antíteses 4, no. 8 (2011): 598– 99. 215. Mapa que comprehende las Missiones de la Compañia de Jesús en el territorio de Moxos y Chiquitos, en la governacion y comandancia grãl de Sta. Cruz de la Sierra, marcando en el terreno de S.M.C. que ocupan los Portuguese, segun las mas exactas notícias adquiridas por los Oficiales que han servido en la Expedicion de Moxos . . . Ciudad de la Plata/ 4. de Junio de 1764. Manuscript in color; 50 cm height × 84 width. JCB, Map Collection, Cabinet Gk764 Ma Ms. 216. František Xavier Eder (1727– 1772) (also known as Francisco Javier Eder in Spanish, and Ferenc Xavér Éder in Hungarian sources) was a Jesuit missionary born in Banská Štiavnica (in present-day Slovakia), at that time one of the most important mining towns in the Kingdom
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of Hungary. Following his studies at the Jesuit college in Trnava, he went to South America as a missionary. Upon the suppression of the order he returned to Europe. From 1769 until his death he lived in Banská Bystrica, where he served as the local priest. During his stay there he completed a manuscript that contains an extensive description of the natural history and native inhabitants of the Province of Moxos. Meier and Glüsenkamp, Peru, 200– 203. 217. Lajos Boglár and Andras Ferenc Bognár, “Ferenc X. Éder’s Description of the Peruvian Missions from the 18th Century,” Acta Ethnographica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 22 (1973): 2. 218. Moxos: Mission de la Compañia de Jesús de la Provincia que fue del Peru / František Xaver Eder. [S.l., 1767]. Manuscript: 36 cm height × 49.5 cm width. ELTE, KEP06888. 219. Monasterio y Azua’s expedition was documented in a map of the bishopric of Santa Cruz that he personally produced around 1766. Nuevo Mapa del Obispado de Santa Cruz de la Sierra, en el Reyno del Peru, dividido segun lo dilatado de sus principales partes, compuesto com las mas exactas nobservaciones, y añadidos los últimos descubrimientos de caminos, desde la villa Cochabamba, para Moxos [1766]. Manuscript; 60 × 48 cm. BL, Additional MS 17,561 AA. 220. István Rákóczi and Mário Clemente Ferreira, “O padre Francisco Xavier Éder e as Missões de Moxos,” in Cartógrafos para toda a Terra: Produçao e circulação do saber cartográfico Ibero-Americano; Agentes e contextos, ed. Francisco Roque de Oliveira (Lisbon: Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal, 2015), 276. 221. The expedition is also documented by a Spanish military map. See Mapa que comprehende las misiones de Moxos y Chiquitos. [Scale ca. 1:1.600,000], 1769. Manuscript in color; 68.5 cm height × 75 cm width. AGI, MP-BUENOS_ AIRES, 78. 222. The narrative, which he entitled Brevis descriptio Missionum Societatis Jesu Provintiae Peruanae vulgo Los Moxos, was finalized in 1772, just before Eder’s death. Eventually the manuscript fell into the hands of Eder’s confrere Ján Molnár, a professor at the Trnava collegium, and then into those of the distinguished historian Juraj Pray, who left his entire manuscript collection to the Univer-
sity Library in Budapest (Collectio Prayana, vol. 50). There the manuscript was found by Pál Makó, who prepared it for the publication under the title Descriptio provinciae Moxitarum and regno Peruano, quam e scriptis posthumis F.X.E. e Soc. Jesu annis XV. sacri apud eosdem Curionis digessit expolivit et adnotatiunculis illustravit Abb. et Consil. Reg. Mako (Budapest: Typis Universitatis, 1791). Only three hundred copies were printed, so the book is extremely rare. The Spanish edition was published under the title Descripción de la Provincia de los Mojos en el Reino del Perú, ed. Pál Máko, trans. Nicolás Armentia (La Paz: Imp. de El Siglo Industrial, 1888), and more recently as Breve descripción de las reducciones de Mojos, ed. and trans. Joseph Barnabas (Cochabamba: Historia Boliviana, 1985). 223. Provincia Moxos Americ Meri e MS/ Francisco Javier Eder. Budae: Typis Universitatis 1791. Copperplate; 16.2 cm height × 25.6 cm width. The cartouche includes a picture of a native American with feathered headdress and arrow. JCB, Map Collection, BA791 E22d. 224. Rákóczi and Ferreira, “O padre Francisco Xavier,” 279. 225. Walter Hanisch Espíndola, Historia de la Compañía de Jesús en Chile (1593– 1855) (Buenos Aires: Francisco de Aguirre, 1974), 27, 55. 226. See Rodrigo Moreno Jeria, Misiones en Chile austral: Los jesuitas en Chiloé, 1608– 1768 (Seville: CSIC— Universidad de Sevilla, 2007). 227. Johannes Meier and Michael Müller, Chile (1618– 1771), vol. 2 of Jesuiten aus Zentraleuropa in Portugiesisch- und Spanisch-Amerika: Ein biobibliographisches Handbuch (Münster: Aschendorff Verlag, 2011), 50. 228. Luis de Valdivia (1560– 1642) was a Spanish Jesuit born in Granada. He entered the Society of Jesus at the age of twenty. In 1589, as a newly ordained priest, he was sent to Peru, where he worked in the mission of Juli. At the end of 1592 he joined a group of Jesuits commissioned to found a new province in Chile. In February 1593 they arrived in Santiago, where Valdivia soon became the rector of the local Jesuit college. During his missionary work, he was known for defending the rights of the natives of Chile and pleading for the reduction of hostilities with the Mapuches in the Arauco War. Following the 1598 revolt of the Mapuches in Araucanía, Valdivia advocated the
replacement of military campaigns by missionary work, which, from his point of view, would attempt the religious conquest of the rebellious Mapuches. His project, which he called “Defensive Warfare,” initially had the support of the Spanish king. Eventually, however, it was considered a failure, and because of that Valdivia was left in disrepute (although the king officially reintroduced Defensive Warfare in 1625). Valdivia spent the last years of his life in Valladolid, devoted to pedagogy and intellectual work. See Horacio Zapater, La búsqueda de la paz en la Guerra de Arauco: Padre Luis de Valdivia. Santiago de Chile: Andrés Bello, 1992. 229. Hanisch Espíndola, Historia de la Compagñía de Jesús, 103. 230. [Mapa del Reino de Chile]. [S.l., ca. 1610]. Manuscript. AGI, MP-Peru_Chile, 172. 231. The Mapuche were able to destroy or force the abandonment of seven Spanish cities in the Mapuche territory: Santa Cruz de Coya (1599), Santa María la Blanca de Valdivia (1599), San Andrés de Los Infantes (1599), La Imperial (1600), Santa María Magdalena de Villa Rica (1602), San Mateo de Osorno (1602), and San Felipe de Araucan (1604). 232. Established in 1603 as Fort Nacimiento de Nuestro Señor, it was destroyed in the later uprisings of the Mapuches and repaired in 1665, 1724, and, for the last time, 1739. It was long considered the last frontier of Chile. 233. Previously known as Fort Nuestra Señora, established in 1603. In 1605 the fort was transformed into the town of Monterrey de la Frontera. Padre Luis de Valdivia lived in the Jesuit mission house of Monterrey from 1612. The town existed until 1617, when it was destroyed by the Mapuches. 234. Established in 1607 as Fort San Jerónimo de Millapoa, but, as a result of a peace agreement with the Moluche of Catirai, it was soon dismantled. 235. Fort San Pedro de la Paz was built at the mouth of the Biobío River in 1603. 236. Founded as a fort by Pedro de Valdivia in 1552, it was named San Felipe de Rauco or de Araucan. The Mapuches destroyed the fort in 1554 and then again in 1563. It was rebuilt in 1566. 237. Lebú was first settled when Fort Santa Margarita was built in 1557. In 1566 a new fort was built almost in the same place as the present-day Notes to Pages 154–157
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city of Lebu. Besieged by the Mapuches, the settlement was abandoned in 1569, while the fort was destroyed in 1599. As early as 1603 the fort was rebuilt as Fort Santa Margarita de Austria. 238. Paicavi was built as a fort in 1603. Later destroyed, it was rebuilt again in 1665. 239. Alonso de Ovalle (1603– 1651) was a Chilean Jesuit priest and chronicler of Chilean history. The eldest son of a Spanish military officer who had arrived in Chile in 1600 and settled in the capital, the great-grandson of the Genoese sailor Juan Bautista Pastene, he was trained as a priest at Córdoba, in the province of Tucumán (Paraguay). See Fernando Silva Vargas, “Alonso de Ovalle: El hombre,” in Ovalle, Histórica relación del Reyno de Chile (Santiago de Chile: El Mercurio, 2012), 13– 39. 240. Catherine E. Burdick, “Patagonian Cinnamon and Pepper: Blending Geography in Alonso de Ovalle’s Tabula Geographica Regni Chile (1646),” Imago Mundi 66, no 2 (2014): 198– 99. 241. An English edition was published in 1732; see Alonso de Ovalle, An historical relation of the kingdom of Chile (London: Printed by assignment from Messrs. Churchill for John Walthoe, Tho. Wotton, Samuel Birt, Daniel Browne, Thomas Osborn, John Shuckburgh. and Henry Lintot, 1732). The most recent Spanish-language edition of Ovalle’s narrative was published in 2012. 242. Tabula Geographica Regni Chile / Alonso de Ovalle, [Rome:] [Francesco Cavalli] 1646. Copperplate; 57.4 cm height × 113.3 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, B646 O96hs 1SIZE. There are two known versions of this map: Tabula A, the large and separately published map intended only for Spanish authorities, and Tabula B, the smaller map of reduced content made to accompany Ovalle’s Histórica relación; both bear the same title, and both were published in the year 1646. 243. Lawrence C. Wroth, “Alonso de Ovalle’s Large Map of Chile, 1646,” Imago Mundi 14 (1959): 94. 244. Wroth, “Alonso de Ovalle’s Large Map,” 92. 245. Archipielago de Chiloe [Rome: Francesco Cavalli], 1646. Copperplate; 22.5 cm height × 14.5 cm width. JCB, Archive of Early American Images, B646 O96hs / 1-SIZE. Spain claimed the island in 1567, and a settlement was founded at Castro in 1567.
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246. Also known as the City of Patagonia, supposedly located somewhere in Patagonia, in a valley of the Andes between Chile and Argentina. The myth of this city, described as prosperous and rich, full of gold, silver, and diamonds, endured for almost two centuries and led many explorers to search for it and its treasure. 247. Information on the so-called Patagonian giants came from the accounts of Antonio Pigafetta, who accompanied Ferdinand Magellan in his circumnavigation of the world. Pigafetta noted that, while their ship was in the bay of San Julián, a native appeared who was “so tall that the tallest of us only came up to his waist.” 248. For Indians born with a tail and women in mud, Ovalle referred to Gregorio de León. 249. Prieto, Missionary Scientist, 201. 250. The first written reference we have about the lake was penned by Flores de León, in his chronicle Memorial, which tells of a Spanish officer named Juan Fernández who in 1620– 21 explored the eastern side of the Andes and discovered a big lake called Navalhuapi. A few decades later the Jesuit Father Rosales, after exploring the area in 1653, wrote that the “famous lagoon of Nahuelhuapi [ . . . ] means: Lake of tigers.” That led many to believe that he was referring to the animals, but he actually said that the region was inhabited by “rebel Indians” and that they were “called tigers due to their bravery.” 251. Luis I. de Lasa and María Teresa Luiz, “Representaciones del espacio patagónico: Una interpretación de la cartografía jesuítica de los siglos XVII y XVIII,” Cuadernos de Historia 35 (2011): 17. 252. The inclusion of Asian spices is likely to have originated in the expedition through the Strait of Magellan, led by García Jofre de Loaísa in 1525– 36, with the aim of establishing a permanent settlement in the Spice Islands. Burdick, “Patagonian Cinnamon,” 203. 253. Buisseret, “Spanish Colonial Cartography,” 1166. 254. Meier and Müller, Chile, 59– 61. 255. Bernhard Havestadt (1714– 1781), also known as Bernardo Havestad, was born in Cologne, where he was educated at the Jesuit college. He entered the Society of Jesus in 1732 and continued his education at the colleges in Trier, Büren, and Münster. In 1748 he arrived in Chile, where he
worked as a missionary in the Araucanian missions until the suppression in 1767. A gifted linguist who spoke nine languages, he took up the study of Chilidugu. Upon the suppression, he returned to Germany and continued his research on the Chilean language, which he summarized in his book Chilidúgu, sive Res Chilenses, vel descriptio, status tum naturalis, tum civilis, cum moralis regni populique Chilensis, inserta suis, locis perfectæ ad Chilensem linguam manuductioni etc., 3 vols. (Münster: Monasterii Westphaliae Typis Aschendorfianis, 1777). Meier and Müller, Chile, 191– 204. 256. Mappa Geographica exhibens Provincias, Oppida, Sacella &c quae Mensibus Novembri ac Decembri anni 1751 et Januario Februario et Martio anni 1752 peragravit ad Indorum Chilensium terras excurrens P. Bernardus Havestadt é Soc. Iesu Missionarius. Münster: Hieronymus Strübel sculp., 1777. Copperplate; 44.4 cm height × 28.1 cm width. JCB, Archive of Early American Images, J777 H387c. 257. The work includes an Araucanian grammar and vocabulary, a catechism in prose and verse, organ music to accompany the poetic catechism, and the author’s diary of a journey in Chile in 1751– 52. 258. The Jesuit monk wears a biretta and holds a crucifix. In addition to the cartouche, there is an altar with a picture of the Virgin and Child. 259. Michael Mayer (1715– 1786) was born in Richen, Germany and educated in Molsheim, Mainz, and Heidelberg. He arrived in Chile in 1748. In 1753 he began working as a missionary in Chiloé. Upon the suppression, Mayer returned to Spain, where he was placed under house arrest. He died at the age of seventy-two, after eighteen years of imprisonment (1768– 86). Meier and Müller, Chile, 244– 46. Melchior Strasser (1711– 1779) was born in Finsing, Germany. He received his early education at the Jesuit College in Munich (1728– 29), after which he studied philosophy and theology. He arrived in Chile in 1745, where he served in Chiloé. After the suppression Strasser, together with other Jesuits from Chiloé, spent the rest of his life under house arrest in Spain. Meier and Müller, Chile, 273– 76. 260. Missio Chiloensis geographice descripta/ [Michael Meyer, Melchior Strasser] [ca. 1758]. Manuscript; 80 cm height × 58 cm width. AGI,
MP-Peru_Chile, 186. Another copy is held by the BNC. 261. Mapa de la Provincia y Archipiélago de Chiloé en el Reino de Chile, Obispado de la Concepción: formado por el P. Fr. Pedro González de Agüeros, del orden de S. Francisco, ex guardián del Colegio de Ocopa en el Perú, Arzobispado de Lima y dedicado a N. católico monarca Don Carlos V. Madrid: Benito Cano, 1791. BNE, U/3269. 262. Pedro González de Agüeros, Descripción de la provincia y Archipiélago de Chilóe en el Reyno de Chile y Obispado de la Concepción ([Madrid]: Impr. de Don Benito Cano, 1791), 105 and 249. 263. José García Alsué, also known as José García fue Martí (1732– 1793), was born in Ayora (Valencia), on April 24, 1732. He entered the Society of Jesus on April 3, 1754. The following year he was assigned to Santiago de Chile, where he was trained as a priest. He taught grammar in Chillán and was a missionary in the islands of Juan Fernández and Chiloé, the latter mission to which he joined in 1764, together with Segismundo Güell, both destined to work with the Caucahues and other towns of Cailín. Upon the supression García was arrested along with Michael Meyer. The government had accused the missionaries of Chiloé of having allied with the English to give them the archipelago. He was held in prison until 1773. Upon his release, he went to Italy and resided in Imola, Cesena, and Bologna, where he died on September 28, 1793. See Marta Ortiz Canseco, “Una carta inédita del jesuita José García desde las misiones de Chiloé (1766),” Anales de literatura chileana 22 (2014): 16. 264. Garcia’s diary, accompanied by his map, was published four times, in 1811, 1871, 1899 and 2011. For the first edition, see José Garcia, “Diario del viaje i navegación hechos por el Padre José García de la Compañía de Jesús, desde su misión de Cailín, en Chiloé, hacia el sur, en los años 1766 i 1767,” in Nachrichten von verschiedenen Ländern des spanischen Amerika, ed. Christoph Gottlieb von Murr (Halle: Christian Hendel, 1811), 2:506– 99. 265. Mapa construido por el P. Joseph Garcia de la Compañia de Jesús a 1768 sacado de las observaciones hechas por el Sargento mayor de Chiloé por los años de 1744 y por las observaciones hechas por el mismo Padre en dos viages que hizo desde su Mission de Caylin en busca de gentiles Notes to Pages 161–165
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en los años 1766 y 1767. [Santiago]: Dirección de Obras Públicas, Inspección General de Geografía, 1924. Print; 41 × 58 cm. BNC, Objeto digital: MP0001178. 266. See Gabriel Guarda and Rodrigo Moreno Jeria, Monumenta cartographica chiloensia: Misión, territorio y defensa, 1596– 1826 (Santiago, Pehuén Editores, 2008), 133; and Barcelos, “Unus non sufficit,” 79. 267. E.g., Tomás López (1730– 1802), a Spanish royal cartographer, included only two small-scale maps of Chile (the northern and the southern parts) in his Atlas geographico de la América septentrional y meridional (Paris, 1758). Jacques-Nicolas Bellin also produced only a small-scale map of Chile (Paris, 1764). 268. Juan Ignacio Molina (1740– 1829) was a Chilean Jesuit priest, naturalist, historian, botanist, ornithologist, and geographer. He is usually referred to as Abate Molina (Abbott Molina) and is also sometimes known by the Italian form of his name, Giovanni Ignazio Molina. Molina first studied in Santiago and became a Jesuit when he was only fifteen. The young scholastic excelled in languages and the natural sciences. Upon the suppression he was sent to Italy. In his leisure time he devoted himself especially to the study of the natural sciences, although his chief distinction lies in having become the most prominent historian and geographer of his native American home. The first edition of his account of Chile, Compendio della storia geografica, naturale, e civile del regno de Chile, was published in Bologna in 1776 as an anonymous work. The second edition, published in Italian as Saggio sulla storia naturale del Chili (Bologna: Nella stamperìa di S. Tommaso d’Aquino, 1782), was signed with his name. The book was soon translated into German (Versuch einer Naturgeschichte von Chili [Leipzig: Bey Friedrich Gotthold Jacobäer, 1786]); French (Essai sur l’histoire naturelle du Chili [Paris: Chez Neé de la Rochelle, 1789]); Spanish (Compendio de la historia civil del reyno de Chile, 2 vols. [Madrid: En la imprenta de Sancha, 1788– 95]); and English (The Geographical, Natural and Civil History of Chili, 2 vols. [Middletown, CT, 1808; London, 1809]). 269. Il Chile, regno dell’America meridionale [ Juan Ignacio Molina]. Bologna: S. Tommaso
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Note s to Pag e s 165 – 16 9
d’Aquino, 1776. Copperplate; 41.7 cm width × 28.5 cm height. JCB, Map Collection, H776 M722c. 270. See José Toribio Medina, Cartografía hispano-colonial de Chile: Texto con noticias históricas (Santiago de Chile: Impr. Universidad, 1924). 271. Mapa de una parte de Chile que comprehende el terreno donde pasaron los famosos hechos entre Españoles y Araucanos / Compuesto por el mapa manuscrito de Poncho Chileno. Por Don Tomás López. [Scale ca. 1:6,200,000]. Madrid: [S.n.], 1777. Copperplate; 38 cm height × 28 cm width. Some authors attribute this map to Juan Ignacio Molina. JCB, Map Collection, Cabinet Gf777 LoT. 272. Chili, la Terra Magellanica coll’ isola della Terra del Fuoco. [Scale ca. 1:6,600,000.] Venice: Press Antonio Zatta, 1785. Copperplate in color; 41 cm height × 31 cm width. Published to accompany Antonio Zatta’s Atlante novissimo. BRL, ID 12947. 273. The existence of the Strait was suggested on the Martin Waldeseemüller’s world map as early as 1507. The region of Patagonia was first fully described by Ferdinand Magellan, who discovered the passage on his circumnavigation (1519– 22). The Spanish nobleman García Jofre de Loaísa, after his expedition (1525– 36), recommended that Spain abandon using the Strait of Magellan as a route to the Pacific. That suggestion probably discouraged greater Spanish interest in Patagonia and the Strait. The first English endeavour to enter the passage was that of the privateer Sir Francis Drake in 1578. It was not until 1624 that Dutch explorer Jacques L’Hermite charted the islands and water around the cape. See Mateo Martinic, Cartografia Magallánica, 1523– 1945 (Punta Arenas: Universidad de Magallanes, 1999). 274. A diary of Anson’s voyage was compiled by his chaplain, Richard Walter. See George Anson, A Voyage round the World, In the years MDCCXL, I, II, III, IV, Compiled by Richard Walter, M.A., Illustrated with Forty-Two Copper-Plates (London: John & Paul Knapton, 1748). 275. The usual route was from Spain to Vera Cruz, and then to Acapulco by land. But from there, the Manila galleons headed toward the Philippines, which made the whole trip extremely expensive. 276. Mirela Altic, “Jesuits at Sea: José Quiroga and José Cardiel—Two Complementary Views of
Patagonia (1745– 1746),” Terrae Incognitae 49, no. 2 (2017): 155. 277. Matthias Strobel (1696– 1769) was an Austrian Jesuit born in Murepont, near Bruck an der Mur. He entered the order in 1713. After finishing his studies he went to Vienna, where he taught humanities. Shortly after arriving in Buenos Aires in 1729 he was assigned to the Guaraní missions. In 1739 he was invited to take up a professorship at the Colegio Grande de San Carlos in Buenos Aires, but the following year he was sent to Corrientes, where he was appointed to the position of rector of the college. In 1754 he became the superior of the Guaraní missions, which gave him an interesting role in the events that gave rise to the Treaty of Madrid in 1750. The suppression of the order found him in Loreto during that time. He returned to Cádiz, Spain, in 1768 where he died the next year. Sierra, Los jesuítas germanos, 400– 401. 278. Udías, Jesuit Contribution, 123– 24. 279. José Quiroga Méndez (1707– 1784) was born in the village of Fabal in the province of Lugo, Galicia (Spain). He entered the Society of Jesus in 1736 or 1739. After studying theology and mathematics at the College in Valladolid, he became a missionary in Paraguay. In 1763 Quiroga was appointed to the position of chair of mathematics at the University of Córdoba (in the Viceroyalty of Río de la Plata). In 1767 he returned to Spain, and from 1768 till his death lived in Bologna. Guillermo Furlong, El padre José Quiroga (Buenos Aires: Jacobo Peuser, 1930), 15– 16 and 41– 42. 280. José Cardiel (1704– 1782) was born in Álava, Spain. He was educated by the Jesuits, first in Vitoria, and then, after he entered the order, in Medina del Campo. He arrived in Buenos Aires in 1729 as part of a missionary group led by Jerónimo Herrán and was soon assigned to the Guaraní missions. In 1737 Cardiel served as a priest of the Mission of San Cosme y San Damián. He was involved in the establishment of the first missions of the Mocobíes and Abipones in the north of the province of Santa Fe. He stayed in the province of Paraguay until the suppression. In 1767, after the expulsion of the Jesuits, he was exiled in Bologna. He died in the city of Faenza. Felix Outes and Guillermo Furlong, Carta inédita de la extremidad austral de América construda por el P. Josí Cardiel S.J. en 1747 (Buenos Aires: Coni, 1940), 2.
281. Edward Julius Goodman, The Explorers of South America (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1992), 157. 282. Cardiel’s diary, titled Diario de un viaje a la costa de la mar magallánica en 1745, desde Buenos Aires hasta el Estrecho de Magallanes . . . , was preserved in the report of the voyage written by Pedro Lozano and published, in an abridged version, in Pierre François Xavier de Charlevoix, Histoire du Paraguay, 3 vols. (Paris: Desaint & Saillant, David, & Durand, 1756). There is a complete version of the manuscript diary in the British Museum. For Quiroga’s diary, see José Quiroga, “Relación diaria que hace al Rey nuestro Señor el P. Joseph Quiroga de la Compañia de Jesús, de el viage que hizo de orden de su Majestad á la Costa de los Patagones en el navio San Antonio,” in Colección de diarios y relaciones para la historia de los viajes y descubrimientos (Madrid: Instituto Histórico de Marina, 1943), 1:125– 68; the original manuscript is held by the AGI. 283. Croquis de diversos sectores de la costa patagónica. AGI, MP-Buenos_Aires, 57. 284. Mapa de la Costa de los Patagones conforme al Descubrimiento hecho de orden de S.M.C. el año de 1745 por el P. Joseph Quiroga. [Scale ca. 1:2,800,000]. [S.l., ca. 1750]. Manuscript in color; 70 cm height × 46 cm width. BNE, MR/42/405. 285. Pepys Island, also known as Pepina, is a phantom island that was supposedly located about 230 nautical miles north of the Falkland Islands. 286. He named the present-day Malvinas after the Dutch captain and vice admiral of the East India Company, Sebald de Weert (1567– 1603), who charted the islands in 1600. 287. It also refers to the Malvinas that were visited by Amédée-François Frézier in 1712. 288. Carmen Martínez Martín, “La expedicion del Padre Quiroga,” Revista Complutense de Historia de América 17 (1991): 56. 289. Altic, “Jesuits at Sea,” 162. 290. [Carta de las costas magallánicas según] las más modernas observaciones [del añ]o 1745 y 1746. En el de [1745] se reconocieron las costas Orientales [desde] 22 grados hasta [52] y [30] mins. En el de 1745, se reconocieron por tierra desde el cavo S. Antonio, q está en 36 grads . y medio hasta 38 gras. [Lo restante] de la costa; y Notes to Pages 169–171
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el Estrecho, Isla del Fuego, y costas Occidentales van según las nuevas Relaciones de Freizer; y aunq este pone la longitud di-/versa de la q yo puse en otra Mapa por seguir a otros Geografos; me parece según lo que he averiguado de las Relaciones de mhos Indios de lexas tierras estando / en las Sierras del Volcan Oriental, q acierta mas, y asi la pongo conforme el la pon e= Desde Buenos ayres hasta el dho. Volcan he registrado por tierra a dentro / 4 veces. Desde ay hasta el Estrecho se ponen e[s]as Naciones por Relación de Indios, q todo lo andan vagabundos. [S.l., ca. 1746]. Manuscript in color; 58.1 cm height × 40.5 cm width. AGNAr, Buenos Aires, Mapoteca II-158. 291. Outes and Furlong, Carta inédita, 7– 8. 292. De Lasa and Luiz, “Representaciones del espacio,” 21. 293. Cardiel explicitly mentioned a report by Amédée-François Frézier titled Relation du voyage (Paris: Chez Jean-Geoffroy Nyon, 1716) as his source for the representation of Tierra del Fuego. 294. For Cardiel’s diary of the 1748 expedition, see José Cadiel, Diario del viaje y mision al Río del Sauce, realizado en 1748, preliminary study by Guillermo Furlong and Félix F. Outes (Buenos Aires: Editora Coni, 1930). 295. Tierra de Magallanes con las Naciones que se han podido descubrir en viages de Mar y tierra desde el año 1745 hasta el de 1748; Viage de parte de la Tierra de Magallanes hecho año de 1748 por Tierra adentro y por la Playa del Mar Este segundo viage lo hizo el P. Joseph Cardiel solo, sin otro sugeto de la Compañia, y el mismo formó tambien este Mapa, es sugeto dignisimo de todo credito. Paraguay, y Abril 14 de 1749 Sebastián de San Martín / José Cardiel, Sebastián de San Martín. [Scales ca. 1:10,000,000 and ca. 1:2,400,000]. Paraguay: 1749. Two manuscript maps on one sheet; in color; 48 cm height × 59.5 cm width (whole sheet). BNE, MR/42/362/1. 296. Francisco Javier de Santiago y Palomares (1718– 1796) was a distinguished Spanish paleographer and diplomat. He was born in Toledo and died in Madrid. He helped Bayer in the formation of the index of ancient manuscripts, prepared in Greek, Hebrew, Latin, and Spanish, in the library of El Escorial. He was appointed a member of the Royal Academy of History and executed many
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calligraphic works. Some of his most prominent works are España dividida en provincias (1787); Diccionario de todos los pueblos del reino (1789); and “España eclesiástica” (unpublished). See Juan Agustín Ceán Bermúdez, Diccionario histórico de los más ilustres profesores de las Bellas artes en España (Madrid: Imprenta de la viuda de Ibarra, 1800), 4:345– 50. 297. Mapa de Magallanes: año de 1751 / Francisco Javier de Palomeras. [Scale ca. 1:5,300,000]. 1751. Manuscript in color; 51.6 cm height × 39.6 cm width. BNE, MR/42/403. 298. The term cacique was used by Spaniards to refer to indigenous rulers. Cangapol was also known as Nicolás el Bravo, or simply Bravo. He was a Tehuelche born in the area of Huilin, on the Río Negro in today’s Argentina. He was the chieftain of the nomadic Leuvuche people (called Serranos by the Spaniards), who moved through a large area from the Río Negro to the Sierra del Volcán. In 1751 Cangapol and his warriors expelled the Jesuits from Laguna de los Padres and destroyed the mission of Pilar. In 1753 he became an ally of the Spaniards against the Mapuches, who used to take the profits from the Leuvuches’ plunder gained in their successful raids launched north of the Río Salado. He then sought safe haven in Chile, leaving the Leuvuches to face the Spanish retaliation alone. He died the same year and was succeeded by his son Nicolás. For more about Cangapol, see Leonardo León Solis, “Las invasiones indígenas contra las localidades fronterizas de Buenos Aires, Cuyo y Chile, 1700– 1800,” Boletin Americanista 28 (1986): 86– 89. 299. Altic, “Jesuits at Sea,” 169– 71. 300. Thomas Falkner (1707– 1784) was an English Jesuit missionary born in Manchester, England. He studied medicine and in 1731 arranged to travel as surgeon on a South Sea Company ship contracted to supply the Spanish colonies with slaves. He arrived in Buenos Aires in complete collapse. The Jesuits at the College of St. Ignatius in Buenos Aires nursed him back to health. Soon after he recovered, he converted to Catholicism, and he entered the Jesuit order in 1732. After having spent some time at the Jesuit colleges in Buenos Aires and Córdoba, he went to the Puelches, near Río Segundo, as a missionary. His knowledge of medi-
cine and mechanics procured for him considerable influence among the natives. In 1740 or soon after, he was sent to assist Father Matthias Strobel in his Patagonian mission at Cape San Antonio. He worked among the native Patagonians for more than thirty years. In 1767, when Falkner was sixty years old, the Jesuits were expelled from South America. He returned to England, where in 1771 he joined the English province of the Society. See Arthur E. S. Neumann, “An Introduction and Notes to Falkner’s A Description of Patagonia,” in Thomas Falkner, A Description of Patagonia and the Adjoining Parts of South America: With an Introduction and Notes by Arthur E. S. Neumann (Chicago: Armann and Armann, 1935), iii– viii. For more about the life of Thomas Falkner, see Guillermo Furlong, La personalidad y la obra de Tomás Falkner (Buenos Aires: Jacobo Peuser, 1929). 301. Thomas Falkner, A description of Patagonia, and the adjoining parts of South America: containing an account of the soil, produce, animals, vales, mountains, rivers, lakes, &c. of those countries; the religion, government, policy, customs, dress, arms, and language of the Indian inhabitants; and some particulars relating to Falkland’s Islands (Hereford: Printed by C. Pugh; [London]: and sold by T. Lewis, Russell-Street, 1774). 302. A New Map of the Southern Parts of America taken from Manuscript Maps made in the Country and a Survey of the Eastern Coast made by Order of the King of Spain / Thomas Kitchin, [Thomas Falkner] ([Hereford: C. Pugh], 1772). Copperplate in two sheets; 98.6 cm height × 71.8 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, D774 F193d. 303. South America Performed under the patronage of Louis Duke of Orleans First Prince of the Blood. By the Sieur d’Anville Improved by Mr. Bolton for Mr. Postlethwayt’s Dictionary of Commerce. To His Grace the Duke of Rutland This Map of South America is most humbly Inscribed. Tho. Kitchin Sculp. 1755. Revised with remarks from Mr. Bolton, 1755. [Scale ca. 1:6,420,000]. Copperplate in 3 sheets; 125 cm height × 75 cm width. JCB, Map Collection Cabinet C752 AnJ. 304. Falkner gave his name as Bernetti. Antoine-Joseph Pernety (1716– 1796) was a French writer who took part in the 1763– 64 expedition under Bougainville that established the Port Saint
Louis settlement in the Falkland Islands. Pernety published a two-volume account of his nature exploration of the Falklands and in 1771 produced a map of the eastern side of the Falklands showing the harbor of Port Saint Louis. 305. Louis-Antoine, comte de Bougainville (1729– 1811), a French admiral and explorer, leader of the French occupation of the Falkland Islands from 1764 until their cession to Spain in 1767. Bougainville is known as the first Frenchman to circumnavigated the globe, during his scientific expedition of 1766– 69. 306. Falkner, A description of Patagonia (1774), 25– 26. 307. Based on Quiroga’s templates, Bellin produced the plans of Puerto Deseado and Puerto San Julián, a chart of the Río de la Plata, a costal view around Maldonado, and a map of the Patagonian coast. Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:91. 308. Asúa, Science, 13. 309. For general information on the history of the Jesuit order in Paraguay, see Pierre FrançoisXavier de Charlevoix, The History of Paraguay, Containing amongst Many Other New, Curious, and Interesting Particulars of That Country, a Full and Authentic Account of the Establishments Formed There by the Jesuits, from among the Savage Natives, in the Very Centre of Barbarism, Establishments Allowed to Have Realized the Sublime Ideas of Fenelon, Sir Thomas More, and Plato, 2 vols. (Dublin: P. & W. Wilson & al., 1769); and Pablo Pastells, Historia de la Compañia de Jesús en la provincia del Paraguay, 8 vols. (Madrid: Libraría General de Victoriano Suárez, 1912– 49). 310. Guillermo Furlong, Cartografia colonial rioplatense (1937; repr., Buenos Aires: Biblioteca del Agrimensor, 1995), 7. 311. Juan Romero (1559– 1630) was born in the Andalusian village of Machena. He entered the Society of Jesus in 1580 and was assigned to the South American mission in 1588. Romero arrived in Peru in 1590 to take up his work among the indigenous inhabitants. Between 1593 and 1598 he served as the superior of the missions of Tucumán. After a term as procurator in Rome, he returned to South America in 1610 and was successively superior of the Jesuit college in Buenos Aires, rector of the colleges of Santiago del Estero (Argentina) and
Notes to Pages 175–180
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Santiago (Chile), and then first vice provincial of Chile. James Mooney, “Juan Romero,” in The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 13 (New York: Robert Appleton, 1912), accessed June 8, 2020, http:// www.newadvent.org/cathen/13179a.htm. 312. Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:20. 313. The following missions were established on the banks of the Tibagí River and its tributaries: San Francisco Xavier (1622), Nuestra Señora de la Encarnación (1625), San José (1626), and San Miguel (1627); along the Ivaí River: Siete Arcángeles (1627), San Pablo del Ivagy (1627), and Santo Tomé (1628); around the Piquirí River: Jesús María de Guaraverá (1628), San Pedro de los Pinares (1627), and Nuestra Señora de la Concepción (1627). Furlong, Misiones y sus pueblos, 104 and 170. 314. Nuestra Señora de la Encarnación de Itapúa (1615), Santa Ana de Iberá (1615; transferred to the Franciscans shortly thereafter), Yaguapohá (1616), Natividad de Nuestra Señora del Acaray (1624), Santa María la Mayor del Iguazú (1626), and San Cosme y San Damián (1632). In 1632 two of the Guayrá reductions were transferred to and incorporated into the missions of the Paraná: Nuestra Señora de Loreto del Pirapó (present-day Nuestra Señora de Loreto) and Loreto and San Ignacio Miní I (San Ignacio Miní II). 315. In 1632 the Jesuits founded the four reductions of Itatín: Ángeles de Tacuaty, San José de Yacaray, San Benito de Yaray, and Natividad de Nuestra Señora de Taragüí. All four were ransacked in the attack of 1632, forcing the Jesuits to move south. They were grouped in the reduction of Yatebó (1634), and then, between 1635 and 1647, divided into two: Nuestra Señora de Fe and San Ignacio de Caaguazú. In 1649 the two villages reunited and in 1650 functioned separately, retaining their names. 316. Mameluco is a Portuguese word that denotes the first-generation child of a European and an Amerindian; the term corresponds to the Spanish mestizo. In the context of the colonial history of South America, Mamelucos refers to the Paulistas, the people from the São Paulo Captaincy who organized bands of slave hunters, also known as bandeirantes, who roamed the interior of South America from the Atlantic Ocean to the foothills of the Andes, and from Paraguay to the Orinoco River, invading Guaraní-occupied areas in search
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of slaves. Because they often attacked the missions, the Mamelucos were in constant dispute with Jesuits. 317. Asúa, Science, 16. 318. Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:24. 319. Antonio Ruiz de Montoya (1585– 1652) was born in Lima, Peru. He entered the Society of Jesus in 1606. In the same year, he accompanied Father Diego Torres, the first provincial of Paraguay, and began his service as a missionary in the province of Paraguay. He stayed there for thirty years, working mostly in the Guayrá region. As head of the missions from 1620 on, he was in charge of the reductions on the upper and middle course of the Paraná and on the Uruguay and the Tape Rivers and added thirteen further reductions to the existing twenty-six. Montoya, a remarkable linguist, specialized in the language of the Guaraní and is the acknowledged author of several works on that subject. See Barbara Ganson, “Antonio Ruiz de Montoya, Apostle of the Guaraní,” Journal of Jesuit Studies 3, no. 2 (2016): 197– 210. Antonio Ripari (1607– 1639) was an Italian Jesuit who spent three years in Paraguay. He was born in Casalmorano (near Cremona). At the age of twenty Ripari joined the order in Milan, where he received his education. After arriving in South America in 1636, he concluded his theological studies in Córdoba. He then served as a missionary in the Chaco. He was killed together with Gaspar Osorio by the Chiriguanos, becoming one of the Jesuit martyrs. See Carlos A. Page, Siete ángeles: Jesuitas en las reducciones y colegios de la antigua provincia del Paraguay (Buenos Aires: Editorial SB, 2011), 119– 22. On the missing maps, see Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:25. 320. Paraguay, ó Prov. de Rio de la Plata cum regionibus adiacentibus Tucuman et Sta. Cruz de la Sierra / Henricus Hondius, Amsterdam: Ioannes Ianssonius, [after 1635]. Copperplate; 35 cm height × 46 cm width. BLR, ID 35116. Paraguay, ó prov. de Rio de La Plata cum regionibus adiacentibus Tucuman et Sta. Cruz de la Sierra / Janszoon, edición Amstelodami [Amsterdam]: Guiljelmus Blaeuw execudit, [ca. 1630]. Copperplate; 38 cm height × 49 cm width. BNRJ, cart527467. 321. See Nicolaus Durán, Litteræ Annuæ Provinciæ Paraqvariæ Societatis Iesv: Ad admodùm R. P. Mvtivm Vitellescvm ejusdem Societatis Præposi-
tum Generalem (Antverpiæ [Antwerp]: Joannes Meursius, 1636). These letters, addressed to the general of the Society, Mutio Vitelleschi, recorded the rapid expansion of Jesuit activities, mainly between 1626 and 1627. Durán (1568– 1653), born Nicola Mastrilli, was the superior of the province of Paraguay. After entering the Jesuit order, he was sent to Peru, where he changed his surname graduated from the University of Lima. He distinguished himself as a zealous preacher, directing in Juli (Bolivia) the first Jesuit mission deeply engaged with the evangelization of the local population. In 1623 he was elected supervisor of the province of Paraguay and then of the whole of Peru. 322. Paraquaria vulgo Paraguay: cum adjacentibus. Amsterdam: Joan Blaeu, 1665. Copperplate in color; 45 cm height × 55 cm width. DRMC, 10017.655. 323. The missions in the vicinity of the Paraná River were San Ignacio Guazú, Encarnación de Itapúa, Corpus, San Ignacio Miní, Loreto, Candelaria, San Carlos, Santa Ana, San José, and Santos Cosme y Damián. The missions on or near the Uruguay River were Concepción, San Francisco Javier, Yapeyú, Santa María la Mayor, San Nicolás, Mártires, La Cruz, Santo Tomé, San Miguel, and Apóstoles. Also in this region were two towns previously transferred from the Itatín: Santa María de Fe and Santiago. Asúa, Science, 16. 324. An English edition of the map by John Ogilby (London, 1671) is has a decorative cartouche surrounded by half-naked natives wearing headdresses and a boy holding a parrot in his hand, strongly reflecting the seventeenth-century European imaginary of Paraguay. 325. Santa María de Fe (1647), Jesús del Tavarangue (1685), San Nicolás (1687), San Luis Gonzaga (1687), San Lorenzo Mártir (1690), San Juan Bautista (1697), Santa Rosa de Lima (1698), Trinidad del Paraná (1706), and Santo Ángel Custodio (1707). 326. After the establishment of a college at Tarija (north of Jujuy) between 1691 and 1760, ten reductions that were inspired by the “ideal cities” of the sixteenth-century philosophers were founded. The six historic missions that remain intact— San Francisco Javier (established in 1691), San Rafael (1695), San José (1698), Concepción (1699, moved in 1707, 1708, and 1722), San Miguel (1721), Santa
Ana (1755), and San Miguel— today make up a living yet vulnerable heritage in the territory of Chiquitanía. The missions of San Juan Bautista (established in 1699), San Ignacio (1724; abandoned in 1748), and Santiago (1754) are not under protection. The last mission in Chiquitanía to be established was founded by the Jesuit Fathers Antonio Gaspar and José Chueca as Santo Corazón in 1760; its remains have not been preserved. 327. The reductions of San Joaquin (1747) and San Estanislao (1747). The mission of Nuestra Señora de Belén Belen (1760) that was established among the Mbayás also belonged to the Tarumá region. 328. San Esteban de Miraflores (1715), San José de las Petacas (1735), San Juan Bautista de Balbuena (1751), San Ignacio de Ledesma (1756), Nuestra Señora del Buen Consejo (1763), and Nuestra Señora del Pilar de Macapillo (1763). 329. The reductions among the Abipones: San Jerónimo del Rey (1748), Purísima Concepción (1750), San Fernando del Río Negro (1750), and Santo Rosario y San Carlos del Timbó (1763). 330. Nuestra Señora de Belén (1750), established by José Sánchez Labrador, and the reduction of San Juan Nepomuceno, established by Manuel Durán in 1760. 331. In 1743 Francisco Burgés and Jerónimo Núñez founded the reduction of San Javier, followed by the reduction of San Pedro, established in 1765 by Florián Paucke. 332. An abstract from his diary was published in José Arenales, Noticias históricas y descriptivas sobre el gran país del Chaco y río Bermejo: con observaciones relativas á un plan de navegación y colonización que se propone (Buenos Aires: Hallet, 1833), 15– 28. 333. The War of the Spanish Succession (1701– 14) was an international conflict triggered by the death of the childless Charles II of Spain, the last representative of the House of Habsburg. His closest heirs were members of the Austrian Habsburg and French Bourbon families. Charles II designated Philip, Duke of Anjou, grandson of King Louis XIV of France, as his successor, and accordingly, he was proclaimed king of Spain on November 16, 1700. Howeer, disputes over territorial and commercial rights led to war in 1701 between the Bourbons of France and Spain and the Grand Notes to Pages 181–183
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Alliance, whose candidate was Archduke Charles, younger son of the Holy Roman Emperor Leopold I. The war ended with Treaty of Utrecht (1713), but the final embers were not extinguished until 1714 with the capitulation of Barcelona and 1715 with the capitulation of Mallorca. According to the Treaty of Utrecht, Spain ceded Spanish Netherlands, Naples, Milan, and Sardinia to Habsburgs; Sicily to Savoy; and Gibraltar and Menorca to Britain. France, meanwhile, gained the Principality of Orange and the Ubaye Valley. In South America, Spain returned the Colônia do Sacramento to Portugal and recognised Portuguese sovereignty over the lands between the Amazon and Oyapock Rivers. 334. As a consequence of the War of the Spanish Succession, the governor of Buenos Aires, Valdes Incian, initiated the Siege of Colônia do Sacramento. The forces of the Spanish governor managed to take the city, which remained in Spanish hands until 1713. It was just beginning of the Spanish-Portuguese disputes over the Sacramento. For the political background of the dispute, see Júnia Ferreira Furtado and Nuno Gonçalo Monteiro, “Raynal and the Defence of the Portuguese Colonization of Brazil: Diplomacy and the Memoirs of the Visconde de Balsemão,” Análise Social 54, no. 230 (2019): 6– 35. 335. Juan Francisco Dávila (or d’Ávila; 1662– 1733) was born in Buenos Aires. He entered the Society of Jesus at the age of seventeen and was educated in the Jesuit colleges of the province of Paraguay. In 1725 he was in the colleges in Corrientes, where he was appointed as teacher. In 1729 he was placed in charge of the children’s school and of the mission in Asunción. He died in his hometown. Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:348– 49. 336. Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:44, 47. 337. The two sheets all have the same title: Neue Taffel des Weitlauffigen Landschaft Paraguaria samt Ihren Gräntzen von denen allda Bestel ten Meistens Teütschen Missionariis Soc. Jesu gezeichnet: jetz aber in vielen Stücken verbessert, und mit grösserem Fleiss nachgestochen 1728. Augsburg: 1730. Copperplate; 34.2 cm height × 52.2 cm width (each). The sheets were published as fold-outs in vol. 16, preceding p. 1. BRL, ID 0356gh. 338. Antonio Machoni (1671– 1753), a Jesuit originally from Cagliari, Sardinia, who traveled to
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Paraguay in 1698 to join the missions. In 1708 he participated in the expedition to the Chaco region that was led by the governor of Tucumán, Esteban de Urizar. In 1711 he founded the mission of San Esteban de Miraflores before becoming a professor and later rector of the college of Córdoba, the position he held until 1728, when he was sent to Rome. He returned to the Río de la Plata in 1733 in the company of thirty other missionaries and in 1739 was appointed the provincial of the Jesuit province of Paraguay, a position he held until 1743. He died in Córdoba del Tucumán. 339. Paraquariae Provinciae Soc. Jesu Cum Adiacentibus Novissima Descriptio Post iterata peregrinationes & plures observationes Patrum Missionariorum. Rome: Giovanni Petroschi, 1732. Copperplate, partially in color; 72 cm height × 57 cm width. BLR, ID 24585. 340. Further confusion about the authorship of Dávila’s 1722 map and Dávila and Machoni’s 1728 map stemmed from the fact that none of these maps were actually signed. However, the preserved documents (letters and accounts) clearly testify to their authorship. 341. The places of martyrdom of the following Jesuit fathers were marked: Gaspar Osório and Antonio Ripari (martyred in 1639), Diego de Alfaro (1639), Juan Antonio Solinas and Pedro Ortiz de Zarate (1683), Lucas Cabellero (1711), and Alberto Romero (1719). 342. Mário Clemente Ferreira, “O Mapa das Cortes e o Tratado de Madrid: A cartografia a serviço da diplomacia,” Varia Historia 23, no. 37 (2007): 55. 343. Le Paraguay, sur les mémoires des RR. PP. Jesuites / par le S[ieu]r d’Anville. Paris: 1733. Copperplate colored by hand; 30 cm height × 30 cm width. Published in Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville, “Observations géographiques sur la carte du Paraguay par l’auteur de cette carte,” Lettres édifiantes et curieuses 21 (1734): 279. BRL, ID 60591. 344. D’Anville wrote a short essay about his map in which he noted that he used the maps of Paraguay that were dedicated to Caraffa (Blaeu’s 1665 map) and to Father Tamburini (Dávila’s 1726 map) as the main source for his map. See JeanBaptiste Bourguignon d’Anville, “Observations géographiques.”
345. Nicolas Verdier, “Entre publicité, débat scientifique et vulgarisation: Jean-Baptiste d’Anville dans les journaux,” in Une carrière de géographe au siècle des Lumières: Jean-Baptiste d’Anville, ed. Lucile Haguet and Catherine Hofmann (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation; Paris: Bibliothèque nationale de France, 2018), 7– 8. 346. Pedro Lozano, Descripción chorographica de Terreno, Ríos, Arboles, y Animales de los dilatadissimas Provincias del Gran Chaco, Gualamba: y de los Ritos, y Costumbres de la innumerables Naciones barbaras, è infieles, que le habitan (Córdoba: En el Colegio de la Assumpción, por Joseph Santos Balbàs, 1733). Pedro Lozano (1697– 1752) was born in Madrid. He arrived in South America in 1714, bound for the Jesuit reductions of Paraguay. He studied at the Collegium Maximum in Córdoba, where he became a lecturer in philosophy and theology. He also taught at the college in Santa Fe between 1724 and 1730, eventually returning to Córdoba as the historian of the Jesuit province of Paraguay. 347. Descripción de las provincias del Chaco y confinantes según las relaciones modernas y noticias adquiridas por diversas entradas de los misioneros de la Compañía de Jesús que se han hecho en este siglo de 1700. Córdoba: Io. Petroschi Sculp., 1733. Copperplate; 32.7 cm height × 54 cm width. BNC, MC0033202. 348. Karl Rechberg (1688– 1746) was a Jesuit born in Altdorf, Switzerland. He arrived in Paraguay in 1717 (together with Bernhardt Nusdorffer), where he eventually became the procurator of the college at Tarija and afterward the procurator general of the province. He died in Santa Fe. Sierra, Los jesuítas germanos, 399. 349. Missiones, qvas Provincia Societatis Jesu Paraguarica excolit ad flumina Paraná, & Uruguay ex natione Gvaranica accurate delineatae á qvodam ejusdem Missionario Veterano, anno 1744. Vienna: Joh. Christoph Winkler, Sculpsit. Copperplate; 71 cm height × 52 cm width. ÖNB, Map Collection, AB395. The map is not signed. Furlong attributed this map to Karl Rechberg based on a letter by Matthias Strobel dated October 3, 1740, in which Strobel mentioned that, having a great astronomical and mathematical knowledge, Rechberg had begun to work on the map of the province. Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:67. 350. See Mapa de las Misiones de los indios
Guaraníes (with the statistics of 1750). Manuscript map; 82 cm height × 58.2 cm width. AHU. 351. Mapa de las Missiones de la Compañia de Jesvs en los rios Paranà y Vruguay conforme à las mas modernas observaciones de latitud y de longitud, hechas en los pueblos de dichas missiones, y à las relaciones antiguas y modernas de los Padres Missioneros de ambos rios por el Padre Joseph Quiroga de la misma compañia de Jesus en la provincia de el Paraguay. Año de 1749. Rome: 1753. Engraved map on 4 sheets; 97 cm height × 81 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, CASE Gk753 QuJ OVERSIZE. 352. Ferreira, “O Mapa das Cortes,” 53. 353. The use of different prime meridians— Quiroga refers to Ferro and the Mapa das Cortes to Rio de Janeiro— brought further difficulties in the accurate setting of the demarcation line. Ferreira, “O Mapa das Cortes,” 59. 354. Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:91– 93. 355. The territory of Brazil was still officially regulated by the Treaty of Tordesillas (1494), which stipulated that the Portuguese Empire in South America could extend no further west than 370 leagues west of the Cape Verde Islands (approximately 48° west of Greenwich). In reality, however, for a long time the territory stretched far beyond these boundaries. The Treaty of Madrid was based on the principle of Roman law uti possidetis, ita possideatis (who owns by fact owns by right). The Portuguese crown was thus able to reassert its power over the land already conquered in the west as far as the forty-eighth meridian. 356. The Jesuit reductions, known as the seven towns of Guaraní. were San Miguel, Santos Angeles, San Lorenzo Mártir, San Nicolas, San Juan Bautista, San Luis Gonzaga, and San Francisco de Borja. 357. Quiroga’s participation in the demarcation commission is an indication that he could have drawn the map of the new border. That is also the reason some of the authors attributed the 1752 and 1766 maps of Paraguay to Quiroga and not to Cardiel. However, Quiroga’s diary of that journey, which contains few indications of longitude and latitude, does not offer any proof of his mapping of the new border. Testimonies of his contemporaries are also very contradictory. While Father Juan de Escandón (1696– 1772) affirms that Quiroga made Notes to Pages 187–193
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a map based on his observations, Father Joaquín Camaño claims in his letter of 1785 that Quiroga was assigned to the commission only as a chaplain and was never in charge of field observations. Asúa, Science, 186. 358. Mappa de los confines del Brasil con las tierras de la Corona de España en la América Meridional: lo que está de color de amarillo se halla ocupado por los Portugueses; lo que está de color de rosa tienen ocupado los españoles; lo que queda en blanco no está al presente ocupado. 1749. Manuscript map in color; 66.2 height × 55 cm width. AGS, MPD, 11, 018. 359. IHS Mapa de la Governación del Paraguay, y dela de Buenosayres, con la Línea divisoria de las tierras de España y Portugal, ajustada entre las dos Coronas año de 1750; cuya posesión se pretende tomar este año de 1752. Pónense también las tierras que tocan a Portugal según la Línea del Papa Alejandro VI, en que antiguamente se ajustaron las dos Coronas. Manuscript in color; 57 cm height × 30 cm width. AGS, MPD, 06, 032. The map is not signed. Attributed to Cardiel by Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:77– 78; 2:23. 360. Asúa, Science, 197. 361. The original map lacks a title; Furlong named it “Mapa de la estancias que tenían los Pueblos Misioneros al oriente del Rio Uruguay por el P. Bernardo Nusdorffer.” Manuscript; 30 cm height × 50 cm width. Furlong refers to a copy of the map kept in the Map Collection of the Ministry of Foreign Relations of the Republic of Uruguay. Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:780. A facsimile was published in Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:24. 362. Bernhardt Nusdorffer (1686– 1762), also known as Nuesdorffer, was born in Plattling, Bavaria. Having entered the Jesuit order in 1704, Nusdorffer arrived in Paraguay in 1717, where he spent most of his life working as a missionary. From 1732 to 1739 and again from 1747 on he was in charge of all of the Jesuit Guaraní reductions. He died at the reduction of San Carlos. For more about Nusdorffer, see Guillermo Furlong, Bernardo Nusdorffer y su “Novena Parte” (1760) (Buenos Aires: Ediciones Theoría, 1971). 363. Bernhard Nusdorffer, “Relación de todo lo sucedido en estas doctrinas en orden a las mudanzas de los siete pueblos (1750– 1756),” in Do
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Tratado de Madri à conquista dos Sete Povos (1750– 1802): Documentos; Introdução, notas e sumário por Jaime Cortesão ([Rio de Janeiro:] Biblioteca Nacional, Divisão de Publicações e Divulgação, 1969), 139– 91. 364. Furlong, Bernardo Nusdorffer, 117. 365. Alan Jeffrey Erbig, “Imperial Lines, Indigenous Lands: Transforming Territorialities of the Río de la Plata, 1680– 1805)” (Ph.D. diss., University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 2015), 156. 366. Barcelos, O Mergulho, 420. 367. By the time the final settlement allowing Spain to keep both the Misiones Orientales and Colonia del Sacramento was reached in 1777 (the Treaty of San Ildefonso), the Jesuits had already been expelled from the region. 368. The border section from Castillos Grandes to the Ibicuí River was demarcated under the commissioners Francisco Antonio de Meneses e Sousa (for Portugal) and Captain Juan Echeverría (for Spain), while the mapping was entrusted to the geographer and cosmographer Miguel Ángel Blanco (Portugal) and the sailor Ignacio de Mendizábal (Spain). Commenced in 1752, the demarcation was soon interrupted by the Guaraní rebellion, but it was resumed in 1758 when the demarcation maps were finalized by both sides. In 1759 the demarcation of the section between the Ibicuí and Igurei Rivers took place under the leadership of the commissioners José Fernandes Pinto Alpoim (for Portugal) and Francisco de Arguedas (for Spain), along with Francisco Milláu (geographer) and Juan Norberto Marrón (astronomer). Martín Merás, Cartografía marítima, 6. 369. Tadeáš Xaver Enis (1714– 1769), also known as Henis, was born in Čekanice, in southern Bohemia. He was educated in his home country and worked as a priest. After several years of priestly work, he decided to become a missionary in South America. He arrived in Paraguay in 1749 together with two other well-known Jesuits, Martin Dobrizhoffer and Florián Paucke (also Baucke). Upon his arrival in Paraguay, he worked among the Guaraní until the order was suppressed. He was arrested in San Ignacio Guazú in 1768 and escorted to Spain, where he died in the convent of San Juan de Dios in El Puerto de Santa María. 370. Cópia del Plano del P.e Thadeu Enis de las tierras de S. Miguel con sus estancias y puestos
confinantes, Pueblos y Portugueses. [S.l., ca. 1756]. Manuscript in color; 27 cm height × 36 cm width. AHN, Leg. 4798, sig. 677. 371. Terrarum S. Michaelis Oppidi Americae Meridionalis in Provincia olim Tape dicta, trans Flumen Uruguai Siti, cum adjacentibus Simul aliorum oppiorum terris & vicinia Lusittanorum, accurata description. Digital copy in BRL, ID 56096. 372. The following estancias of Banda Oriental are noted: San Luis, San Luis Miri, San Juan, San Juan Miri, San Lorenzo, San Thomé, San Nicolas, and San Miguel. 373. Enis’s map shows a particular correlation with a Portuguese military map of Banda Oriental compiled by Miguel Ângelo de Blasco. 374. The Tobi River may correspond to the present-day Arroio Iruí River. See Barcelos, O Mergulho, 424. 375. Enis’s participation in the 1754 Guaraní attack resulted in an additional cartographic presentation of the battlefield. It is a panoramic view that records the positions assumed by the Guaraní and the Portuguese in the vicinity of the Tobi River in 1754. See Mapa que se halló incluso en este Diario, el que se conoce por la letra estar delineado p.r el P. Thadeo Xavier Enis dela Compañía de Jesus, da qual existem duas versões. AGS, VII 221. 376. In 1756 Enis wrote a Latin account of the Guaraní War, which a former Jesuit, Bernardo Ibañez de Echevarri, distorted in his Latin transcription and Castilian version to make Enis the inciter of the rebellion. See Tadeo Xavier Henis, Diário histórico de la rebelión y guerra de los pueblos guaranís, situados en la costa del río Uruguay, del año de 1754: Versión castellana de la obra escrita en latín por el P. Tadeo Xavier Henis de la Compañia de Jesús, vol. 4 of Colleción de obras y documentos relativos a la Historia de las provincias del Rio de la Plata, ed. Pedro de Angelis (Buenos Aires: Imprenta del Estado, 1836). 377. IHS/Parte de la América Meridional en que trabaja el zelo de los Religiosos de la Compañía de Jesús de la Provincia dicha del Paraguai. José Cardiel (attributed by Furlong) [after 1763; copied in July 1890]. Manuscript; 38 height × 28 cm width. AHL; manuscript volume by P. Calatayud, Tradato sobre la Provincia de la Compañía de Jesús en el Paraguay, Box 17, No 3. 378. Outes and Furlong, Carta inédita, 11.
379. Asúa, Science, 199, 201. 380. José Cadiel, “Breve relación de las misiones del Paraguay (1771),” in Organizacíon social de las doctrinas guaraníes de la Compañia de Jesús, ed. Pablo Hernández (Barcelona: Gustavo Gili, 1913), 2:514– 614; and Cadiel, Compendio de la historia del Paraguay (1780), with preliminary study by José N. Mariluz Urquijo (Buenos Aires: Fundación para la Educación, la Ciencia y la Cultura, 1984). 381. In the introduction to the Breve relación, Cardiel wrote, “For more clarity, I accompanied the text by a map.” See Cadiel, “Breve relación,” 2:514. 382. Pablo Hernández, the editor of Cardiel’s 1771 “Breve relación,” noted, “It seems that the map should have been placed here, but in the copy of the account that I used, the map does not exist. Instead, two other maps have been used.” See Pablo Hernández, ed., Organizacíon social de las doctrinas guaraníes de la Compañia de Jesús (Barcelona: Gustavo Gili, 1913), 2:563. 383. Mapa de las Doctrinas del Paraná y Uruguay, y de la línea divisória del año 1750 en cuanto a estas doctrinas toca. La línea divisória es la encarnada, que comenzando en los Castillos sobre la Costa en la altura de 34 grados, y pasando por cerca de Maldonado va por las Cabeceras del Río Negro, y Estancia de San Miguel hasta la cabecera del Ybicuí y río abajo hasta el Uruguay, y río arriva hasta el Río Pipiti, y de este al Yguazü y Paraná. La señalo el Rey el año de 1750. Las tierras orientales son de Portugal. Manuscript; 41 cm height × 29 cm width. AHL, Papeles Varios. Tomo IV (203). The map was attributed to Cardiel. See Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:90. 384. It is a manuscript map (27 cm height × 40 cm width) dated 1771; the original is held by the AHL. The map originally had no title. According to Furlong, it is usually referred to as the “Mapa de las reducciones guaraníes.” Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:101. The facsimile was published in Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:35. In the same place Furlong mentioned that the original of the map was held in the ARSI, which is not correct. See N. N., “Maps of the Jesuit Mission in Spanish America, 18th Century (Archives of the Society of Jesus, Rome, Hist. Soc. 150, I),” Imago Mundi 15 (1960): 115. 385. Mapa del Chaco, que se comprehende enNotes to Pages 198–202
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tre el Río Paraguay, Missiones de Chiquitos, Prov. de S. Cruz, Charcas, Chichas, Tucuman, y Río de la Plata. Año 1772. Manuscript; 40 cm height × 24 cm width. AHL. The facsimile was published in Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:36. 386. Mapa histórico hecho por uno de la Comitiva de los Demarcadores Reales, que en los años de 1766 et ultra demarcaron la línea divisoria en la que se delinea historialmente la provincia jesuitica de El Paraguay. Manuscript in color; 103 cm height × 75 cm width. AECID, 3R-6544. 387. Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:114. 388. Blanco Conde attributed this map to José Quiroga because of the latter’s engagement in the activities of the demarcation committee of the Treaty of Madrid. However, the style and content of the map do not correlate with any other maps by Quiroga. See María Blanco Conde, “Mapa histórico de las misiones jesuíticas en el Paraguay,” Cuadernos hispanoamericanos 678 (2006): 75. 389. Outes and Furlong, Carta inédita, 11. 390. Francisco José Sánchez Labrador (1717– 1798) was born in Toledo, Spain. He entered the Society of Jesus in 1731. From 1734 to 1739 he studied philosophy and theology at the University of Córdoba. In 1734 he went to South America to work as a missionary among the Guaraní. From 1747 to 1759 he worked in various Guaraní missions and then, from 1760 to 1766, among the Mbyá people in the mission of Belén. He also acted as a missionary among the Toba. In 1767 he returned to Europe following the expulsion of the Jesuits from South America; he died in Ravenna, Italy. He wrote numerous manuscript works, all richly illustrated with drawings of plants and animals and with maps, which are together known as La enciclopedia rioplatense. 391. Only fragments of his manuscripts were published. See José Sánchez Labrador, El Paraguay católico, parts 2– 3, ed. Samuel A. Lafone Quevedo (Buenos Aires: Coni, 1910); and Sánchez Labrador, Familia Guaycurú: Gramática Eyiguayegi-Mbayá, ed. Branislava Sušnik (Asunción: Museo Etnográfico Andrés Barbero, 1971). 392. For an inventory and summary, see Héctor Sainz Ollero, Helios Sainz Ollero, Francisco Suárez Cardona, and Miguel Vázquez de Castro Ontañon, José Sánchez Labrador y los naturalistas jesuitas del Río de la Plata (Madrid: Mopu, 1989).
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Note s to Pag e s 202 – 20 9
393. See Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, and Sainz Ollero, José Sánchez Labrador. 394. The book’s editor, Samuel A. Lafone Quevedo, decided to supplement Sánchez Labrador’s original manuscript with a review on more recent books on the same region, including the one by José Jolís. That is the reason he decided to include the map of the Gran Chaco published in Jolís’s book. 395. Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:117– 18. 396. The description of his unpublished volume is based on the copy of his manuscript “Paraguay catholico en sus principales Provincias reducidas a la Santa Fe y vasallage del rey de España por la predicación de los missioneros zelosos de la Compañía de Jesús, en gran parte arruinadas por los mamelucos del Brasil y restablecidas por los mismos missioneros . . . [manuscrito] parte primera [-segunda] . . . 1769– 1776 / escrito por el P. Joseph Sánchez Labrador, missionero en la misma Provincia del Paraguay.” RAH, 9/2275 and 9/2276Cf. 397. Provincia del Itatin convertida a la Fé por los Jesuitas y destruida por los Mamalucos. Reproduction in Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:45. 398. Provincia del Guaýra convertida por los Jesuitas y destruida por los Mamalucos Portugueses. Manuscript; 20 height × 14 cm width. Reproduction in Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:42. 399. Missiones del Tape en la que tenían antes de su transmigración el año 1630. Reproduction in Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:44. 400. Barcelos, O Mergulho, 441. 401. Descripcion Chorographica de los treinta pueblos de las Misiones que los PP.es Jesuitas tienen reducidos en las riberas de los ríos Paraná y Uruguay con las recientes observaciones de Longitud y Latitud del P. Bonaventura Suarez anõs 1746 y 1747. Reproduction in Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:40. 402. Descriptio Chorographica Oppidorum triginta à P.P. Missionariis Soc. Jesu in Provincia Paraquarie utrumque flumen Parana et Uruguay fundatorum, recens reformata juxta observationes Longitudinis, et Latitudinis singolorum a P. Bonaventura Suarez ejusdem Soc. Jesu institutas. Anno 1747. Manuscript; 15 cm height × 21 cm width. Reproduction in Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:41.
403. José Sánchez Labrador, “El Paraguay Natural,” unpublished manuscript (Ravenna, 1771; Paraquaria 16– 19, ARSI, Rome), includes a table with the coordinates of thirty-two towns. In some of the statistical tables included in the manuscript version of El Paraguay católico, Sánchez Labrador also noted coordinates of the missions. 404. Parte del Río Uruguay desde el pueblo de Yapeyú hasta el Mocoretá. Manuscript; 15 cm height × 21.5 cm width. Reproduction in Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 2:43. 405. Barcelos, O Mergulho, 442– 43. 406. Viaje primero desde la reducción de Ntra. Señora de Belén de infieles Eyiguayeguis o Mbayas hasta las doctrinas o pueblos del Tarumá nombrados el primero San Estanislao y el segundo San Joaquín. Attached to El Paraguay católico, vol. 1, following p. 317. 407. Mapa del Río Paraguay con las tierras de los Guaycurúes y Chiquitos. Attached to printed edition of El Paraguay católico, vol. 2, following the p. 325. AECID, 3GR-7429. 408. Triángulo de posición para la distancia del pueblo de Santo Corazón hasta el de N. Señora de Belén. In El Paraguay católico. RAH, Colección Cortes, 9/2275. 409. Missión de la Compañía de Jesús de la Prov. que fue del Peru. In El Paraguay católico. RAH, Colección Cortes, 9/2275. 410. In El Paraguay católico. RAH, Colección Cortes, 9/2275. 411. Joaquín Camaño y Bazán (1737– 1820) was a Spanish priest, theologian, philosopher, cartographer, linguist, and publicist born in La Rioja, Viceroyalty of Peru (present-day Argentina). He studied at the University of Córdoba, Argentina, where he graduated in theology and philosophy, and entered the Society of Jesus in 1757. He studied a great number of languages and was fluent in the Latin, Greek, French, Italian, and several indigenous languages, among them Quechua, Chiquitano, and Guaraní. He served in the Guaraní and Chiquitos missions. Upon the suppression he settled in Faenza, Italy, where he dedicated himself to the teaching of philosophy. He was one of the very few missionaries who lived to see the restoration of the Society of Jesus and reentered the order in Valencia, Spain. Guillermo Furlong, “El P. Joaquín Camaño y Bazán cartógrafo, lingüista e
historiador,” Boletín del Instituto de investigaciones históricas 38 (1928): 233– 85. 412. Martin Dobrizhoffer (1717– 1791) was born in Frymburk (Friedberg), Bohemia, and entered the Society of Jesus in 1736. He acquired his education at several Jesuit colleges in Vienna, Linz, and Graz, where he received training in not only in theology but also in Latin and Greek, which was later reflected in his narratives. In 1749 he arrived in Paraguay, where for eighteen years he worked devotedly, first among the Guaranís, and then among the Mocobíes, the Abipones, and the Tobatines. After the order was suppressed, he spent some time in Spain and then eventually settled in Vienna. Dobrizhoffer obtained the friendship of Maria Theresa, which helped him to survive the suppression of his order and to continue his research on the history of the Abipones. He died in Vienna in 1791. Guillermo Furlong, “Martín Dobrizhoffer, S.J.: Filólogo e historiador,” Boletín del Instituto de Investigaciones Históricas 6 (1928): 435. 413. The English translation of Dobrizhoffer’s narrative is incomplete. The Spanish edition (Resistencia, 1967) is considered much more reliable. Asúa, Science, 32. 414. Hans-Jürgen Lüsebrink, “Between Ethnology and Romantic Discourse: Martin Dobrishoffer’s History of the Abipones in a (Post) modern Perspective,” in Jesuit Accounts of the Colonial Americas: Intercultural Transfers, Intellectual Disputes, and Textualities, ed. Marc André Bernier, Clorinda Donato, and Hans-Jürgen Lüsebrink (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014), 130. 415. See Martin Dobrizhoffer, Historia de Abiponibus, equestri, bellicosaque Paraquariæ natione, locupletata copiosis barbarorum gentium, urbium, fluminum, ferarum, amphibiorum, insectorum, serpentium praecipuorum, piscium, avium, arborum, plantarum aliarumque ejusdem provinciae proprietatum observationibus, 3 vols. (Vienna: Typis Josephi Nob. de Kurzbek, cæs. reg. aul. tipog. et bibliop., 1784). The motto is printed on the separate page inserted between the title page and the introduction. 416. Martin Dobrizhoffer, An Account of the Abipones, an Equestrian People of Paraguay, trans. Sara Coleridge (London: Murray, 1822; repr., Johnson Reprint, 1970), 1:1– 2. 417. Martin Dobrizhoffer, Historia de los AbiNotes to Pages 209–216
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pones, trans. Edmundo Wernicke, 3 vols. (Resistencia: Universidad Nacional del Nordeste, 1967– 69), 1:11. 418. Mappa Paraquariae, in multis a me Correcta. Quid si in pluribus porro per alios Corrigenda. / Authore M. D. eius provinciae Missionario. Vienna: [ Joseph von Kurböck], 1784. Copperplate; 43.2 cm height × 34.6 cm width. Fold-out map in Dobrizhoffer, Historia de Abiponibus, vol. 2, following p. [355]. JCB, Map Collection, J784 D634h. 419. Mappa regionis Taruma & Mbaéverá. Vienna: [ Joseph von Kurböck], 1784. Copperplate; 19 cm height × 23.7 cm width. Fold-out map in Dobrizhoffer, Historia de Abiponibus, vol. 1, following p. 68. JCB, Map Collection, J784 D634h. 420. Colonia Abiponum a Rosario & S Carolo dicta a Barbaris Mocobiis, Tobis & Oaekakalotis Equitibus Circiter Sexcentis oppugnata anno 1765 die 2 Augusti. Vienna: [ Joseph von Kurböck], 1784. Copperplate; 16.7 cm height × 21.2 cm width. Fold-out map in Dobrizhoffer, Historia de Abiponibus, vol. 3, following p. 356. JCB, Map Collection, J784 D634h. 421. Florián Paucke wrote a work titled Hacia allá y para acá: Una estadía entre los indios Mocobíes, 1749– 1767, which was illustrated with as many as 117 drawings documenting the spatial organization of the missions, the appearance and customs of the Indians, their daily activities, the way they dressed, etc. It was published by Guillermo Furlong under the title Iconografía colonial rioplatense, 1749– 1767: Costumbres y trajes de españoles, criollos e indios (Buenos Aires: Viau y Zona, 1935). 422. Carta del Gran Chaco e paesi confinanti. Delin. dal Sig. Ab. Gioachino Camagno [ Joaquín Camaño]. Dre Filos. della Neo. Cords Universita. Giuseppe Ballanti incise in Faenza, 1789. Copperplate; 50 cm height × 34 cm width. IAIB, ID 630113416. 423. That was actually only the first part of a four-volume narrative, the rest of which was never written. 424. José Jolís (1728– 1790) was a native of San Pedro de Murallón, Spain. He arrived in Montevideo in 1755. After finishing his studies in Córdoba, Jolís served in the smallest mission of the Chaco— the Madonna della Colonna, also known also as
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Note s to Pag e s 216 – 223
Macapillo. Along with Martin Dobrizhoffer, José Sánchez Labrador, and Florián Paucke, he should be considered one of the most important naturalist missionaries. For more on Jolís, see Guillermo Furlong, “José Jolís S.J., misionero e historiador (1728– 1790),” Estudios 46 (1932): 82– 91, 178– 88. 425. Part of the diary of his third expedition was published. See Guillermo Furlong, “Diario del viaje o entrada que hizo el Padre José Jolís de la Compañía de Jesús a lo interior del Chaco: Año de 1767,” Estudios 8 (1920): 294– 302. 426. Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:128. 427. La Carta Geografica finalmente, che vi si è aggiunta, è a giudizio degl’ intelligenti affai esatta, nè potrà farsene una migliore, se non convertito tutto il Chaco. Ella è opera del Sig. Ab. Gioacchino Camaño, dottorato nella Università di Cordova del Tucuman, Soggetto, che oltre esser nativo della stessa Provincia del Paraguai, ne è assai pratico, e ne avuto le migliori, e più esatte Notizie. José Jolís, Saggio sulla storia naturale della provincia del Gran Chaco (Faenza: Lodovico Genestri, 1789), 17. 428. For general insight into the history of the Jesuits in Quito, see José Jouanen, Historia de la Compañía de Jesús en la antigua provincia de Quito, 1570– 1774, 2 vols. (Quito: Editorial Ecuatoriana, 1941– 43); and Francisco de Figueroa, Relación de las misiones de la Compañía de Jesús en el país de los Maynas, 2 vols. (Madrid: Victoriano Suárez, 1904). 429. Johannes Meier and Christoph Nebgen, Neugranada (1618– 1771), vol. 3 of Jesuiten aus Zentraleuropa in Portugiesisch- und Spanisch-Amerika: Ein bio-bibliographisches Handbuch (Münster: Aschendorff Verlag, 2008), 6. 430. Nicholas P. Cushner, Farm and Factory: The Jesuits and the Development of Agrarian Capitalism in Colonial Quito, 1600– 1767 (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1982), 64; and Kenneth Andrien, The Kingdom of Quito, 1690– 1830: The State and Regional Development (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 60. 431. The Maynas mission was named after the Maynas people, whom the Jesuits encountered along the Morona and Pastaza Rivers in 1636. During the seventeenth century, the name Maynas came to signify most of the upper Amazon basin, an immense area that included the basins of the tributaries of the Marañón River. “Maynas” was confirmed as an official designation for the
missionary territory by the royal laws of 1682 and 1683. André Ferrand de Almeida, “Samuel Fritz and the Mapping of the Amazon,” Imago Mundi 55 (2003): 118. 432. Linda A. Newson, Life and Death in Early Colonial Ecuador (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1995), 307, 329. 433. See George Edmundson, “The Voyage of Pedro Teixeira on the Amazon from Pará to Quito and Back, 1637– 39,” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 3 (1920): 52– 71. 434. In 1639 he accompanied Pedro Teixeira in the latter’s second exploration of the Amazon in order to take scientific observations and prepare a report for the Spanish government. Acuña’s narrative Nuevo descubrimiento del Gran Río de las Amazonas was published in Madrid in 1641; French and English translations (the latter from French) appeared in 1682 and 1698. 435. For the mapping of present-day Ecuador in general, see Carlos Manuel Larrea, Cartografía ecuatoriana de los siglos XVI, XVII, y XVIII (Quito: Corporación de Estudios y Publicaciones, 1977). For the history of mapping of the Amazon in the eighteenth century, see Octavio Latorre, Los mapas del Amazonas y el desarrollo de la cartografía ecuatoriana en el siglo XVIII, Miscelánea Antropológica Ecuatoriana, Serie Monográfica 9 (Guayaquil: Museos del Banco Central del Ecuador, 1988). 436. Samuel Fritz (1654– 1725) was born on April 9, 1645, in Trutnov, Bohemia. After studying for a year at Charles University in Prague, he entered the Society of Jesus as a novice in 1673. He was sent to the Jesuit college in Quito in 1686 and began his career as a missionary in the same year. Between 1686 and 1715 Fritz founded thirty-eight missions along the length of the Amazon River, in the area called the Omagua Missions. These missions were continually attacked by the Brazilian bandeirantes beginning in the 1690s. After succeeding Gaspar Vidal as Jesuit superior, Fritz left his missions in 1704 and moved to Santiago de la Laguna on the Huallaga River. Fritz detailed his early missionary activity among the Omagua people in a set of personal diaries written between 1689 and 1723. He died in the village of Jéberos, Peru, in 1725. A commemorative plaque was placed in his honor in his hometown of Trutnov in 2000. The plaque was made of stone brought from Jéberos. Anthony
Huonder, “Samuel Fritz,” in The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 6 (New York: Robert Appleton, 1909), accessed June 8, 2020, http://www.newadvent.org /cathen/06308a.htm. 437. Almeida, “Samuel Fritz,” 113. 438. Fritz states in his diary that he was suffering from malaria at the time, suggesting that the reason for the journey could have been the medical help that Fritz received from the Portuguese Jesuits in Belém do Pará. However, some historians believe that procurement of medicine seems an unlikely reason for his descent into Portuguese territory and believe that the whole incident was merely a diplomatic misunderstanding. Dias, “Jesuit Maps,” 100. 439. The manuscript volume containing Samuel Fritz’s diary and other materials concerning his life and missionary service were found in the BPÉ and published by the Hakluyt Society. See George Edmundson, ed., Journal of the Travels and Labours of Father Samuel Fritz in the River of the Amazonas between 1686 and 1723, translated from the Evora MS (London: Hakluyt Society, 1922). 440. Edmundson, Journal of the Travels and Labours, 58. The term “Marañón River” was often applied to the river all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. Nowadays the Marañón River is generally thought to end at the confluence with the Ucayali River, after which most cartographers label the waterway the Amazon River. 441. Tabula Geographica Missionis Omaguae Societatis Iesu 1689. Manuscript (ink on paper); 15.5 cm height × 43 cm width. Today only a negative of the original map is preserved in the ARSI, Hist. Soc. 150: 42. The original was lent to the International Missionary Exhibition, which took place in the Vatican in 1925, and was never returned. 442. Tabula Geographica del Rio Marañon o Àmazonas 1690. Manuscript in four sheets, joined, 135.5 cm height × 217 cm. BNF, Cartes et Plans, GE DD 2987 (9544– 9547). 443. Mapa Geographica del Rio Marañon ò Amazonas hecha por el P. Samuel Fritz, de la Compañía de Jesús, Missionero en este mesmo Río de Amazonas, el año de 1691. Manuscript in color; 55 cm height × 130 cm width. BNF, Cartes et Plans, Rés. Ge C 5037. 444. Almeida, “Samuel Fritz,” 113– 14. Notes to Pages 223–226
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445. Carmen Fernández-Salvador, Encuentros y desencuentros con la frontera imperial: La iglesia de la Compañia de Jesús de Quito y la misión en el Amazonas (siglo XVII) (Quito: Universidad da Navarra, Iberoamericana—Vervuert, 2018), 141– 56. 446. Cintra, “Magni Amazoni Fluvii,” 2. 447. Le Pérou, et le cours de la Rivière Amazone par N. Sanson d’Aberville Geographe ordre de S.M. Paris: Peierre Mariette, 1656. There is a copy of the same map published in Sanson’s atlas L’Amerique en plvsievrs cartes (Paris, 1657). Copperplate in color: 21 cm height × 29 cm width. ML, 495. 448. Jorge Pimentel Cintra and Rafael Henrique de Oliveira, “Nicolas Sanson and His Map: The Course of the Amazon River,” Acta Amazonica 44, no. 3 (2014): 354, 358. 449. The prime meridian is not indicated on Fritz’s map itself. Furthermore, in his narrative Fritz rarely uses coordinates to define positions of individual locations. Settlements are mostly defined by distances from other settlements. The only exception he makes is in the case of the Treaty of Tordesillas (1494), which defined the SpanishPortuguese line of demarcation at 22⅓° west of the islands of Cape Verde— that is, when he speaks about the fact that the above-mentioned line of demarcation in the Amazon region reaches up to the Vicente Pinzón River. See Edmundson, Journal of the Travels and Labours, 88– 89. 450. One prominent error in the map is the inclusion of Lake Parime, of which Fritz knew only through hearsay, and which had been sought unsuccessfully since Sir Walter Raleigh had surmised its existence in 1595. 451. El Gran Rio Maranõn, o Amazonas con la Mission de la Compañia de Iesus. Geograficamente delineado por el P[adr]e Samuel Fritz missionero continuo en este Rio. P[adre] J[uan] de N[arváez] Societatis Jesu quondam in hoc Marañone Missionarius sculpebat Quiti. Anno de 1707. Copperplate; 32 cm height × 42 cm width. BNRJ, cart168292. 452. Dias, “Jesuit Maps,” 102. 453. For full text of the notes, see the appendix in Edmundson, Journal of the Travels and Labours, 145– 50. 454. The Great River Marañon or of ye Amazons With the Mission of the Society of Jesus,
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Note s to Pag e s 22 6 – 232
Geographically describ’d by Samuel Fritz setled Missioner on ye said River: F.I. de N. of the Society of Jesus. Engraved by I. Senex. London: printed by H. M. for B. Lintot and R. Gosling in FleetStreet, A. Bettesworth on London-Bridge, and W. Innys in St. Paul’s Church-Yard, 1712. Copperplate; 25 cm height × 46 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, D712 C772. Map is folded and tipped into vol. 1 following p. 232. 455. Cours du fleuve Maragnon autrement dit des Amazones par le P. Samuel Fritz Missionaire de la Compagnie de Jesus. [Scale ca. 1:15,500,000]. Paris: Le Mercier & Boudet, Marc Bordelet, 1717. Copperplate; 24 cm height × 37.5 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, EA707 J58l. Map is folded and tipped into vol 12 following p. 212. There is a copy of the same map in a later reprint of the Lettres édifiantes, vol. 8 (Paris, 1781). ML, 24170. 456. Dias, “Jesuit Maps,” 112– 13. 457. Strom Maragnon / autore R.P. Samuele Fritz é Soc. Jésu Prov. Bohen 1707 Delineatus ([Augsburg & Graz: Heirs of Phillip, Martin & Johann Veith, 1726]). Copperplate; 21.4 cm height × 34 cm width. Published in vol. 5, following p. 58. JCB, Map Collection, JA726 J58a / 1-SIZE. 458. Dias, “Jesuit Maps,” 112– 13. 459. Fritz’s map played an important role in the territorial disputes between Venezuela and the Guianas in the late nineteenth century. 460. Carta De la Meridiana medida en el Reyno de Quito de Orden del Rey Nuestro Señor: para el conocimiento del Valor de los grados Terrestres y Figura de la Tierra Por Don Jorge Juan y Dn. Antonio de Ulloa concluida año 1744 [Madrid: Engraved by Juan Bernabé Palomino and published by Antonio Marín, 1748]. Copperplate; 27.3 cm height × 109.5 cm width. JCB, B748 U41r / 1-SIZE (copy 1). Published in Jorge Juan, Relacion historica del viage a la America Meridional . . . (Madrid: Antonio Marín, 1748). The map is folded out in vol. 2, following p. 640. 461. Carte du Cours du Maragnon ou de la grande Rivière des Amazones dans sa partie navigable depuis Jaen de Bracameros jusqu’à son embouchure et qui comprend la Province de Quito et de la cote de la Guyane depuis le Cap de Nord jusqu’à Essequebé. Levée en 1743 et 1744 at assujettie aux observations astronomiques [Paris: Veuve Pissot, 1745]. Copperplate; 16.2 cm height
× 38 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, E745 L142r. Published in Charles Marie de La Condamine, Relation abrégée d’un voyage fait dans l’interieur de l’Amérique méridionale, depuis la Côte de la Mer du Sud, jusqu’aux Côtes du Brésil & de la Guiane, en descendant la riviere des Amazones (Paris: Académie des Sciences, 1745). The map is a foldout following p. xvi. 462. Jorge Pimentel Cintra and Júnia Ferreira Furtado, “Bourguignon D’Anville’s Carte de l’Amérique Méridionale: A Comparative Amazonian Cartography in Perspective,” Revista Brasileira de História 31, no. 62 (2011): 313. 463. Bouguer, La Condamine, and the Spanish officers each wrote separate accounts of the expedition, which opened up European eyes to the exotic landscapes, flora, and fauna of South America and led directly to the great naturalist expeditions by Alexander von Humboldt and others. 464. Neil Safier, Measuring the New World: Enlightenment Science and South America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008), 90. 465. Carta de la provincia de Quito y de sus adyacantes, obra posthuma de Don Pedro Maldonado, [ . . . ] hecha, sobre las observaciones astronómicas y geográficas de los Académicos reales de las ciencias de Paris, y de las guardias Mars de Cadis y también de los RR. PP. missioneros de Maynas, en que la costa desde la boca de Esmeraldas hasta Tumaco con la derrota de Quito al Marañon por una sonda a pie de Baños a Canelos, y el curso de los ríos Bobonaça y Pastaça van delineados sobre las proprias demarcaciones del difunto autor por el S. d’Anville. [Scale ca. 1:840,000]. [Paris], 1750. Copperplate; 120 cm height × 83 cm width. LOC, Geography and Map Division, G5300 1750.M2. 466. Jean ( Juan) Magnin (1701– 1753) was a Swiss-French Jesuit born in Hauteville (canton of Fribourg, Switzerland). After finishing his studies of humanity and philosophy, he entered the Society of Jesus in 1720 at the age of nineteen. Before concluding his studies of theology in 1724, he was chosen by his superiors to be part of a mission expedition to the city of Quito. In the same year, he embarked from Cádiz for Quito. He finished his theology studies in Quito and was ordained a priest in 1733. He was then sent to Panamá to teach grammar and to preach and minister. He later taught at the Colleges of Panamá, Quito, Lima,
and Pasto. Although prominent in several scientific fields, he was best known as a philosopher. In 1744, in the depths of the jungle, he wrote Millet en harmoniá con Descartes o Descartes reformado and then, three years later, a second edition, whose philosophical purpose was to respond to a refutation of Descartes’s hypothesis published by the French Jesuit Claude François Milliet Dechales. He died in Quito. Urban Fink, “Juan Magnin,” in Historisches Lexikon der Schweiz, accessed June 9, 2020, http://www.hls-dhs-dss.ch/textes/f /F25227.php. 467. Breve descripción de la provincia de Quito, en la América meridional, y de sus Misiones de Succumbíos de Religiosos de S. Franc., y de Maynas de PP. de la Comp. de Jhs a las orillas del gran Río Marañón, hecha para el Mapa que se hizo el año 1740, por el P. Juan Magnin, de dha Comp., missionero en dichas Misiones. Printed edition prepared by Jean-Pierre Chaumeil: Juan Magnin, Andrés de Zárate and Pablo Maroni, Noticias auténticas del famoso Río Marañón y misión apostólica de la Compañía de Jesús de la Provincia de Quito en los dilatados bosques de dicho río, escribíalas por los años de 1738. Relaciones de los P.P. A. de Zárate y J. Magnin (1735– 1740) (Iquitos, Peru: CETA, 1988). 468. Provincia de Quito con sus milliones de succumbros de religiosos des francisco y de Maynas de padres de la Compania de Jesus a las orillas del gra. rio Maranon delineata por el P. Juan Magnin, 1740. Manuscript; 47 cm height × 55 cm width. The original is held by the Mapoteca de Carlos Manuel Larrea. A facsimile edition of the map was published by the Instituto Geográfico Militar in Quito in 1989. 1 map; 47 × 55 cm. One copy of the facsimile is held by MREEc. 469. Carolo Brentano (1694– 1752) was born Brentán Károly on August 23, 1694, in Komárom, Hungary. It is believed that he is descended from a noble Tyrolean family, a branch of which ended up in Hungary. He was educated at the Jesuit college of Trnava (now in Slovakia) and in 1714 was ordained into the Jesuit order. In 1722 he was accepted into the Jesuit seminary in Seville, Spain, for a special two-year course that trained priests to go into missions in the New World. In 1724 Brentano arrived in Quito to accept his assignment to the missions in the upper Amazon basin, mostly among the Yameos. In 1742 he was appointed proNotes to Pages 232–237
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vincial superior of the Jesuit order in Quito and, in 1748, procurator general of the Jesuits in Latin America based in Rome (he reached Italy in 1751). He died suddenly under unknown circumstances. See Zsigmond Bödők, Világjáró magyarok [Hungarian World-Travelers] (Dunaszerdahely: NAP Kiadó, 2002), 129– 30. 470. Lajos Boglár, “The Ethnographic Legacy of Eighteenth-Century Hungarian Travellers in South America,” Acta Ethnographica 4 (1955): 318. 471. Today two of Brentano’s autograph maps of the province of Quito are preserved, one in the ARSI, (Hist. Soc. 246, II, 9), and another, slightly different, in the LOC. 472. Provincia Quitensis Societatis Iesu in America topographice exhibita nec non A.R.P. Ignatio Vicecomiti in comitiis generalibus A. 1751 in praepositum generalem ejusdem societatis electo A.P.P. Carolo Brentano, et Nicolao de la Torre, praefatae provinciae Quitensis procuratoribus humillime dicata postquem iusdem comitis ipsi interfuissent / Carolo Brentano. Rome: Iulius Caesar Cigni delineavit, Dominicus Cigni sculpsit. Ioa. Petroschi Caracteres incidit; 1751. [Scale ca. 1:5,500,000]. Copperplate in color: two sheets, joined, each 63 cm height × 90 cm width. BRL, ID 34033. In the same year, a reduced version of the same map appeared, printed at a smaller scale in Rome. 473. Mapa de que comprende todo el distrito de la Audiencia de Quito— en que se manifiesta con la maior individualidad los Pueblos y Naciones barbaras que hay por el Río Marañon y demás que en el entran. Para acompañar a la descripcion del nuebo Obispado que se proyecta en Maynas. Construido de Orden del Sr. Don Josef García de Leon y Pizarro Presidte. Regte. Comandte. y Visitador Gral. de la misma Audiencia. Quito, 1779. Manuscript in color; 24 cm height × 46 cm width. BNEE, Mapoteca, 17682. 474. José Luis del Río Sadornil, “Don Francisco Requena y Herrera: Una figura clave en la Demarcación de los Límites Hispano-Lusos en la cuenca del Amazonas (s. XVIII),” Revista Complutense de Historia de América 51, no. 29 (2003): 57– 58. 475. Franz Xavier Veigl (or Weigl) (1723– 1798) was born in Graz, Austria. He entered the Society of Jesus at St. Anne in Vienna in 1738. In September 1753 his superiors sent him as a missionary to
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Quito, where he later became the superior of the Marañón missions. Upon the suppression he was deported and imprisoned in Lisbon. After being released from prison, he returned to his native Austria, where he served as rector of the college in Judenburg. Upon the dissolution of the Jesuit order in Austria in 1773, he retreated to private life in Klagenfurt, where he died at the age of seventyfive. His accounts were published in Nuremberg in 1785. “Weigel, Franz Xaver,” in Biographisches Lexikon des Kaiserthums Oesterreich, ed. Ritter Constant von Wurzbach (Vienna: Verlag der Universitäts-Buchdruckerei von L. C. Zamarski, 1884), 50:71– 72. 476. Two of his short accounts were published in Der Neue-Welt Bott from 1761: Summa epistolarum duarum ad cognatos suos in itinere scriptarum 1753 et 1755 quibus id ipsum et quae in eo observavit describit (38:101– 4) and Epistola ad cosdem ex Quito 1 Septembris 1755 qua horribilem terrae in civitate hac, et statum missionum ad flumen Maragnon describit (38:104– 7). A summary of his accounts was published after the suppression. See Franz Xavier Veigl, “Gründliche Nachrichten über die Verfassung der Landschaft von Maynas, in Süd-Amerika, bis zum Jahre 1768,” in Reisen einiger Missionarien der Gesellschaft Jesu in Amerika, aus ihren eigenen Aufsätzen, ed. C. G. von Murr (Nuremberg: Johann Eberhard Zeh, 1785), 3– 324. 477. Descriptio Missionis Mainicae per Maragnoniam Fluminis Terrarum in Orbe longe maximum . . . Missionario S.J. novissime facta. Veigl’s autograph is known only from reproductions published in José Chantre y Herrera, Historia de las misiones de la Compañía de Jesús en el Marañón español (Madrid: Impr. de A. Avrial, 1901), map folded in before p. 1; and in Sierra, Los jesuítas germanos, map tipped in between pp. 328 and 329. 478. Veigl, “Gründliche Nachrichten,” 6– 7. 479. A printed version of Veigl’s autograph was edited by Peter Parcar and published with Veigl’s account in 1785. That particular edition of the map is titled: Maragnonii Sive Amazonum fluminis terrarum in Orbe maximi, quoad Hispanicae potestati subest, Cursus cum fluviis et regionibus finitimis utilitati publicae probatisimis e Documentis accuratius novissime descriptus a quadam per eas provincias olim S.I. Missionario: delineatus a Petro Parcar, 1780. [Nuremberg: Johann Eberhard Zeh,
1785]. Copperplate; 48 cm height × 56.2 cm width. The map is a fold-out, tipped in at the end of book. JCB, Map Collection, JA785 R375e. 480. Juan de Velasco y Pérez Petroche (1727– 1792) was a Jesuit priest, historian, and professor of philosophy and theology from the royal audience of Quito. He was born in Riobamba to Juan de Velasco y López de Moncayo and María Pérez Petroche. Velasco became a Jesuit novitiate in 1744 and continued his studies in Quito, where he obtained a doctorate in theology. Having taken the fourth vow in 1762, he served as an educator and missionary throughout the province of Quito. During that time he traveled extensively, studying indigenous traditions. After the suppression he lived in exile in Faenza, Italy, for twenty-four years, where he wrote most of his works. He is best known for his Historia del Reino de Quito en la América meridional, 3 vols. (Quito 1841– 44), although he also wrote books in other fields, such as physics textbooks and poetry anthologies. See Eileen Willingham, “Imaginating the Kingdom of Quito. Reading History and Natural Identity in Juan de Velasco’s Historia del Reino de Quito,” in Jesuit Accounts of the Colonial Americas: Intercultural Transfers, Intellectual Disputes, and Textualities, ed. Marc André Bernier, Clorinda Donato, and HansJürgen Lüsebrink (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014), 102. 481. Willingham, “Imaginating the Kingdom,” 81. 482. Carta general de las provincias del Quito Propio de las orientales adjuntas y de las Misiones del Marañon, Napo, Pastaza, Guallaga, y Ucayale delineada Según las mejores Cartas modernas y observaciones de los Académicos y Misioneros, por el Presb. D. Juan de Velasco para servir a su Historia del Reino de Quito. Año de 1789. Manuscript in color; 34 cm height × 42 cm width. BEAE, DSC 04237. A printed version is published in Juan de Velasco, Historia del Reino de Quito en la América meridional, vol. 1 (Quito: Juan Campuzaono, 1844). BEAE, M432. 483. Eileen Willingham, “Literary Patriotism in Ecuador’s Juan León Mera and Juan de Velasco,” Humanities Research 17, no. 1 (2011): 31. 484. Willingham, “Literary Patriotism,” 31. 485. For the Jesuit accounts of New Granada, see José del Rey Fajardo, Documentos Jesuíticos
relativos a la historia de la Compañia de Jesús en Venezuela, 3 vols. (Caracas: Biblioteca de la Academia Nacional de la Historia, 1966– 74); and José del Rey Fajardo, Biblioteca de escritores jesuitas neogranadinos (Bogotá: Pontificia Universidad Javeriana, 2006). 486. Meier and Nebgen, Neugranada, 11. 487. [Carta de navegación que Gualtero Rale dio a personas de su conserva para el viaje y navegación que haze al rio Orinoco]. [1617?]. Manuscript; 56.7 × 79.3 cm. AGS, MPD, 04, 056. Walter Raleigh’s collection of maps of the New World also included “a secret mappe of those partes made in Mexico . . . for the King of Spain.” See Harley, “Silences and Secrecy,” 64. 488. See Descripción geográfica e hidrográfica del gobierno de Venezuela y sus provincias, por Francisco de Ruesta en 1634. Manuscript; 40 cm height × 55.8 cm width. AGI, MP-Venezuela, 19. See also Mapa de las tierras comprendidas entre el fuerte de Guayana, en la desembocadura del Río Orinoco, hasta Maracaibo y el río de la Magdalena, 1675. Manuscript; 42.1 cm height × 5 7.8 cm width. AGI, MP-Venezuela, 45. 489. E.g., Venezuela ende het Westelyckste gedeelte van Nueva Andalusia / Joannes de Laet. Leiden: In de druckerye van Isaack Elzevier, 1625. Copperplate: 34 cm height × 42 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, F625 L158nh. 490. Mapa del río Orinoco. Lorenzo Palaçio fecit. [1707]. Manuscript; 31.5 cm height × 141 cm width. AGI, MP-Venezuela, 73. 491. Several examples of Capuchin cartography are preserved in the Archivo General de Indias. See Mapa de las misiones capuchinas situadas entre el río Orinoco y la desembocadura del río Unare, en la provincia de Cumaná. [1735]. Manuscript; 42.7 cm height × 57.1 cm width. AGI, MP-Venezuela, 95. 492. Juan Capuel (1667– 1736) was born in Zierikzee, Holland. He entered the Society of Jesus in 1686. After he finished his studies of philosophy and theology in Europe, Capuel arrived in today’s Venezuela in 1705. In 1713 he was appointed father superior of the missions around the Casanare. In 1719 he led an exploration of the lower Orinoco River, and in 1723 he became procurator of the missions. He died in Pararuma. See Rey Fajardo, Biblioteca de escritores jesuitas, 177– 78. Notes to Pages 241–247
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493. [The Lower Orinoco and its confluence with the Río Caroni] / Juan Capuel, 1719/1720. Manuscript in color; 42 cm height × 31 cm width. MREVe, vol. 20, fol. 29. Reproduced in Santa Arias, “The Intellectual Conquest of the Orinoco: Filippo Salvatore Gilij’s Saggio di storia americana (1780– 1784),” in “Troubled Waters: Rivers in Latin American Imagination,” ed. Elisabeth M. Pettinaroli and Ana Maria Mutis, special issue, Hispanic Issues On Line 12 (2013): 72. 494. Arias, “The Intellectual Conquest,” 59. 495. José Gumilla (1686– 1750), who was born in Cárcer, in Valencia, Spain, began his Jesuit training in Seville. He left Spain in 1705 and, after completing his education in Santa Fe de Bogotá, from 1715 onward served as a missionary in the Orinoco region. In 1716 he founded his first mission, San Ignacio de Betoyes. In 1723, he became the father superior of all Orinoco missions. He returned to Europe in 1738 and, for nearly fourteen years, held leading positions in the Society of Jesus in Madrid and Rome, where he finished his famous book El Orinoco ilustrado: historia natural, civil y geográfica de este gran río (1741). In 1743 he returned to New Granada, where he worked as father superior of the missions along the Casanare River, a branch of the Orinoco. He died in 1750 serving among the Betoyes. Margaret R. Ewalt, Peripheral Wonders: Nature, Knowledge, and Enlightenment in the Eighteenth-Century Orinoco (Lewisburg, PA: Bucknell University Press, 2008), 15 and 17. 496. Río Orinoco nuevamente observado en bajante a fin de expresar sus raudales, Islas y bajos, Ríos y Caños que tiene . . . Por el P. Jph. Gumilla antiguo misionero de la Compañía de Jesús y remitido por el Gobernador de la Trinidad D. Jph. Arredondo. Año 1732. Manuscript; 69.3 cm × 41.5 cm. Servicio Geográfico del Ejército. A reproduction was published in Jaime de Uriarte Guitian and Ángel Paladini Cuadrado, Venezuela, vol. 6 of Cartografía y relaciones históricas de ultramar (Madrid: Servicio Histórico Militar and Servicio Geográfico del Ejército, 1990), map 111. One copy of this sketch is preserved in LOC, Geography and Map Division, G5282.O7 1732.O7. 497. José del Rey Fajardo, Las misiones germen de la nacionalidad, vol. 5 of Los Jesuitas en Venezuela (Caracas: Universidad Católica Andrés Bello; Bogotá: Pontifica Universidad Javeriana, 2007), 848.
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Note s to Pag e s 2 47– 2 5 1
498. The map is known from its manuscript original as well as from the printed version, prepared by Paulus Minguet and titled IHS. Plano de una parte del Orinoco. . . . Because Minguet prepared Gumilla’s 1741 map for Orinoco ilustrado, historia natural, civil y geográphica de este gran río (Madrid: Manuel Fernandez, 1741), it is possible that the mentioned map was also considered as a possible supplement to the same book. However, the map was not included in any of the editions of Gumilla’s book. Minguet’s engraving of Fajardo’s map is kept in JCB, Map Collection, BA738 G974i / 1-SIZE. 499. José Gumilla, El Orinoco ilustrado, historia natural, civil y geográphica de este gran río (Madrid: Manuel Fernandez, 1741). 500. Ewalt, Peripheral Wonders, 65. 501. Mapa de la Provincia y Missiones de la Compañía de IHS del Nuevo Reyno de Granada / José Gumilla. Madrid: [Manuel Fernandez], 1741. Copperplate; 25 cm height × 42 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, B741 G974h. 502. Filippo Salvadore Gilij, Saggio di storia americana o sia storia naturale, civile, e sacra de’ regni, e delle provincie spagnuole di Terra Ferma nell’ America meridionale descritta dall’ abate Filippo Salvadore Gilij, 4 vols. (Rome: Luigi Perego erede Salvioni, 1780– 84), 1:28. 503. Ewalt, Peripheral Wonders, 71. 504. The Council of the Indies ruled in favor of the Capuchins in 1742 and 1744. However, the viceroy of Bogotá supported the Jesuits, who held on to Cabruta until their expulsion. 505. Ewalt, Peripheral Wonders, 67. 506. Arias, “The Intellectual Conquest,” 56. 507. José Gumilla, El Orinoco ilustrado y defendido: Historia natural, civil y geográfica de este gran río y de sus caudalosas vertientes (Madrid: Manuel Fernandez, 1745). 508. Manuel Román (1696– 1766), born in Olmedo (Castilla la Vieja), entered the Jesuit order in 1722. Being still a novice, he was sent to New Granada with the expedition of Father Mateo Mimbela. After he arrived in Cartagena in 1724, he completed his theological studies at Javeriana University in Bogotá, where he was ordained a priest in 1725. After 1728 he went to the missions of Llanos, where he remained more than thirty years and associated with such prominent Jesuits as
José Gumilla and Bernardo Rotella. Between 1731 and 1732 he made three trips to the Bichada River, the details of which he drew up in his relations. His most important expedition took place in 1744 when he explored the Casiquiare canal. He was repeatedly superior in the missions of the Orinoco (1737– 45, 1748– 54, and 1757– 61) and those of Meta (1754– 57). In 1764 he was appointed rector of Javeriana University in Santa Fe de Bogotá. Rey Fajardo, Biblioteca de escritores jesuitas, 595– 99. 509. His report, titled Descubrimiento de la comunicación del río Orinoco con el Marañón y relación que hace el P. Manuel Román de su viaje a Carichana al río Negro desde el 4 de febrero hasta el 15 de octubre de 1744, has been preserved without the map. 510. Bernardo Rotella (1700– 1748), who was born in Borines, in Asturias, Spain, entered the Society of Jesus in 1723. In the same year he came to America to join an expedition led by Father Mateo Mimbela. He was ordained in Bogotá in 1729. From 1731 until 1736 he collaborated with Gumilla in maintaining the missions in the Orinoco River region. Between 1736 and 1739 he lived in the missions of the Llanos. In 1740 he founded Cabruta, where he died. Rey Fajardo, Biblioteca de escritores jesuitas, 605. 511. [Mapa del Padre Rotella que acompiona relación], 1747. Manuscript in color. Attached to Rotella’s report titled Noticias sobre la Geografía de la Guayana, Caicara, April 1, 1747. AMN 0192— Ms. 0320/14. 512. The argument that the map attributed to Rotella was, in fact, compiled by Manuel Román was elaborated by Pablo Ojer, “El mapa de Guayana del P. Bernardo Rotella, S. J.,” Revista 25 (1962): 489– 91. 513. Manuel Donís Ríos, “El aporte jesuítico a las ideas geográficas de Venezuela,” Montalbán: Revista de Humanidades y Educación 46 (2015): 123. 514. Filippo Salvatore Gilii (1721– 1789), called Felipe Salvator Gilij in Spanish sources, was born in Legogne, a small town near Norcia, in Umbria, Italy. Having entered the Society of Jesus at the age of twenty, Gilii was sent to America as an abate. Upon his arrival in Cartagena in 1743, he continued on to Santa Fe de Bogotá in an expedition led by José Gumilla. In Bogotá, Gilii studied at Javeriana University and was ordained in 1748. In February 1749 he left for El Meta, where he would serve for
the next eighteen and a half years, until the expulsion. In 1767 he was forced to return to Italy when the Spanish government ordered the dissolution of the institution of the Jesuits in America, as well as their expulsion from America. He died in Rome in 1789, having written several very important books on linguistics. Most of his knowledge is gathered in Gili, Saggio di storia americana, o sia storia naturale, civile e sacra de’ regni, e delle provincie spagnuole di Terra-Ferma nell’ America meridionale descritto dall’ abate Filippo Salvadore Gilij, 4 vols. (Rome: Luigi Perego erede Salvioni, 1780– 84). See Donato, “The Politics of Writing,” 51– 52. 515. For more about the complex relations between the Jesuits of New Granada and the boundary commission, see José del Rey Fajardo, “El Tratado de Límites de 1750 y el ocaso de la acción jesuítica en la Orinoquia,” IHS: Antiguos jesuitas en Iberoamérica 2, no. 2 (2014): 25– 56. 516. Upon the suppression of the Jesuit order, five of the seven Jesuit missions in the Llanos de Casanare were handed over to the Dominicans, while the other two, together with that of Jiramena on the Meta River, were entrusted to the Franciscans. The other three missions on the Meta River were transferred to the Recollects. The Franciscans also assumed responsibility for the missions in the upper Orinoco, but they were unable to take charge of them until 1785. Because of economic decline, desertion, and the failure to maintain resident priests, numerous missions were eventually abandoned. 517. Donato, “The Politics of Writing,” 53. 518. Arias, “The Intellectual Conquest,” 65. 519. Carta del Fiume e Provincia dell’ Orinoco nell’ America Merid[ional]. Roma: per Luigi Perego Erede Salvioni, 1780. Copperplate; 25 cm height × 32 cm width. Folded in vol. 1, following p. XIV. BNE, 2/68896. 520. Antonio Caulin, Historia coro-graphica natural y evangelica dela Nueva Andalucia provincias de Cumaná, Guayana y vertientes del Rio Orinoco: dedicada al rei N.S. D. Carlos III. (Madrid: Juan de San Martin, 1779). 521. Arias, “The Intellectual Conquest,” 67. 522. This is an excerpt from Bonne’s map Carte de La Terre Ferme, de la Guyane et du Pays des Amazones (Paris, 1771). A Jesuit, Eusébio da Veiga (1718– 1798) was a Portuguese mathematician and Notes to Pages 251–255
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astronomer. After he was expelled from Portugal, he lived in Italy, where he was director of the astronomical observatory of the Duke of Sermoneta in Rome. 523. This was actually an excerpt from Surville’s larger map (Mapa corográfico de la Nueva Andalucía), which was prepared as an accompaniment to Caulin, Historia coro-graphica natural. Surville was a Spanish military engineer who worked as an assistant archivist at the Spanish Archive of the Indies. Chapter 3 1. There are several theories regarding who the first European was to set foot on the land now called Brazil. Its discovery by Cabral is widely accepted, but some maintain that the credit should go to Vicente Yáñez Pinzón, a Spanish navigator who had accompanied Columbus on his first voyage to the Americas. He supposedly arrived in the Pernambuco region on January 26, 1500, but was unable to claim the land because of the Treaty of Tordesillas. Others say that it was first discovered by Duarte Pacheco Pereira between November and December 1498. 2. For general insight into the overall history of Brazil, see Leslie Bethell, ed., Colonial Brazil (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), and Thomas E. Skidmore, Brazil: Five Centuries of Change (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2009). 3. The Treaty of Tordesillas only specified the line of demarcation along a meridian situated 370 leagues west of the Cape Verde Islands. It did not specify the line in degrees, nor did it identify the specific island or the specific length of its league. Instead, the Treaty stated that these matters were to be settled by a joint voyage, which never occurred. Such a vague definition of the demarcation caused confusion and allowed different calculations by various astronomers and navigators. Most of the scholars today agree that the Tordesillas meridian was placed along the meridian 48° west of Greenwich. 4. H. B. Johnson, “The Portuguese Settlement of Brazil, 1500– 80,” in Colonial Brazil, ed. Leslie Bethell (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 20.
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5. Frédéric Mauro, “Political and Economic Structures of Empire, 1580– 1750,” in Colonial Brazil, ed. Leslie Bethell (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 44. 6. In 1737 the state of Maranhão was further divided into the Maranhão e Piauí and Grão-Pará e Rio Negro, with its capital in Belém do Pará. 7. After the discovery of gold, the Captaincy of São Paulo and Minas do Ouro was created in 1711. After 1720 Minas Gerais was separated into an autonomous captaincy. 8. For the comprehensive history of the Society of Jesus in Brazil, see Serafim Leite, História da Companhia de Jesus no Brasil, 10 vols. (Rio de Janeiro: Livraria Portugália, 1938– 50); and Dauril Alden, The Making of an Enterprise: The Society of Jesus in Portugal, Its Empire, and Beyond, 1540– 1750 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1996). 9. Alden, The Making of an Enterprise, 75. 10. See Johannes Meier and Fernando Amado Aymoré, Brasilien (1618– 1760), vol. 1 of Jesuiten aus Zentraleuropa in Portugiesisch und SpanischAmerika (Münster: Aschendorff Verlag, 2005), 16– 19. They had five missions in the Bahia region (Amoipira, Espírito Santo, São João, Santo Antônio, and São Sebastião), three in Rio de Janeiro (São Barnabé, Santo Inácio, and Reritiba), and one in Pernambuco (Rio Grande do Norte). In the last there were also two villages, São Miguel and Nossa Senhora de Escada. 11. St. Joannis, Itapucurú, Barbatorum minor, Barbatorum maior, Maracú, and Pinaré in the Maranhão region, and Caeté, Maracanã, Coaby, Tabapara, Mortigura, Cumayama, Araticu, Guaricuru, Aucará, Itacruzá, Piraguiri, Aricará, Tapajós, Boyrari, Cumarú, St. Ignatius, St. Josephus, Abacaxis, and Trocano in the Grão-Pará region (both part of the vice province of Maranhão). 12. Alden, The Making of an Enterprise, 75; and Meier and Aymoré, Brasilien, 21. 13. The Jesuits had frequent disputes with other colonists who wanted to enslave the natives. Initially the Portuguese attempted to use the local natives as slaves for the cultivation of sugar but soon shifted to the use of black African slave labor. It is not known when the first African slaves were brought to Brazil, but it is estimated that by the end of the sixteenth century about fourteen thousand slaves were working there.
14. Johnson, “The Portuguese Settlement,” 24. 15. France Antarctique was a French colony in the region of present-day Rio de Janeiro that existed between 1555 and 1567 and had control over the coast from Rio de Janeiro to Cabo Frio. The colony quickly became a haven for the Huguenots; it was ultimately destroyed by the Portuguese in 1567. 16. Alberto Carlos Zeron, “Les aldeamentos jésuites au Brésil et l’idée moderne d’institution de la société civile,” Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu 151 (2007): 39– 40. 17. Skidmore, Brazil, 30. 18. For general information on the mapping history of Brazil, see Jaime Cortesão, História do Brasil nos velhos mapas, 2 vols. (Lisbon: Imprensa Nacional-Casa da Moeda, 2009). 19. Júnia Ferreira Furtado, “From the Coast to the Sertão of Brazil: Between Myths and Reality,” in The Cartographic Challenge of the New: Looking over the Globe and Brazil; Mapping and Delineating Minas Gerais; Belo Horizonte and the Cartography of a Planned City/O desafio cartográfico de novo: Olhares sobre o globo e o Brasil; Belo Horizonte e a cartografia de uma ciudade planejada, ed. Júnia Ferreira Furtado and Valquiria Ferreira da Silva (Belo Horizonte: Odisseia, 2017), 37. 20. Roteiro de todos os sinais, conhecimentos, fundos, baixos, alturas, e derrotas que há na costa do Brasil desde o cabo de Santo Agostinho até ao estreito de Fernão de Magalhães (1586). BNA, MS 51-IV-38. 21. Hees Zandvliet, “Mapping the Dutch World Overseas in the Seventeenth Century,” in Cartography in the European Renaissance, ed. David Woodward, vol. 3 of History of Cartography (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), 1450. 22. The Dutch Brasilysche paskaert (1637) was the most advanced chart available. It formed the basis for the map of Brazil in Joan Blaeu’s atlas, first published in 1642. 23. Georg Marcgrave (1610– 1644) was appointed astronomer of the WIC in 1637. Afterward he served under the governor of Dutch Brazil, Johan Maurits van Nassau-Siegen, whose patronage provided him with the means necessary to finance the exploration of a considerable part of Brazil. In early 1638 he undertook the first zoological, botanical, and astronomical expedition there, exploring
various parts of the colony and studying its natural history and geography. Together with Willem Piso, Marcgrave is the author of Historia naturalis Brasiliae (Amsterdam, 1648). His maps first appeared in Caspar Barlaeus’s Rerum per octennium in Brasilia et alibi nuper gestarum . . . (Amsterdam, 1647), and then in Blaeu’s Atlas Maior. 24. Alegria, Daveau, Garcia, and Relaño, “Portuguese Cartography in the Renaissance,” 1062. 25. Descrição de todo o marítimo da Terra de Santa Cruz chamado vulgarmente, o Brasil. Feito por João Teixeira Cosmpographo de sua Magestade. Anno de 1640. Manuscript atlas with 31 maps; 41.6 cm height × 29.6 cm width. ANTT. 26. Portuguese awareness of the importance of precise calculations is well illustrated by the crown’s relations with its chief cosmographer (cosmógrafo-mor de Portugal), Manoel Pimentel, who would be regularly consulted in the demarcation of the Portuguese territories in Brazil. That was especially crucial for the new borders established by the Treaty of Utrecht. Pimentel’s famous book Arte de navegar, em que se ensinão as regras praticas, e o modo de Cartear pela Carta plana, e reduzida, o modo de Graduar a Balestilha por via dos numeros, e muitos problemas uteis a navegacão, e Roteiro das viagens, e costas maritimas de Guine, Brasil, e Indias Occidentaes, e Orientaes— agora novamente emendadas, e acrecentadas muitas derrotas novas (Lisbon: Officina Deslandesiana, 1712) contained the coordinates of various locations, supposedly to help clarify the precise location of the mouths of the Amazon and the Río de la Plata, and to confirm the Portuguese right to Cabo Norte and Colônia do Sacramento. Furtado, Oráculos da geografia, 59. 27. In the early seventeenth century there were Dutch settlements on the north shore of the Amazon, from the Jarí River to the estuary, at the mouths of the southern tributaries of the Xingu and the Tapajós, and on the Essequibo River, where the Low Countries appeared to threaten Spanish claims to the upper Orinoco. After Teixeira’s military campaign, the Dutch ceased their efforts in the Amazon and retreating to their outposts on the coast, which would soon become known as Dutch Guiana. Susanna B. Hecht, The Scramble for the Amazon and the “Lost Paradise” of Euclides da Cunha (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2013), 109. Notes to Pages 259–265
379
28. For greater insight into overall map production on the Amazon region between 1500 and 1961, see Isa Adonias, A cartografia da região Amazônica, 2 vols. (Rio de Janeiro: Conselho Nacional de Pesquisas, Instituto Nacional de Pesquisas da Amazônia, 1963). 29. Alois Konrad Ludwig Pfeil (1638– 1701) was born in Konstanz, Germany. He studied philosophy and theology in Ingolstadt. In 1679 Pfeil went to Brazil, where he worked first as a teacher at the Jesuit college in Belém do Pará, then as a missionary in the mission of Mamayacú in Pará, and later in the Rio Negro and Rio Xingu regions. In 1684 he traveled to Tapuitapera. While en route from Brazil to Lisbon, he died in a shipwreck near the Azores. Meier and Aymoré, Brasilien, 315. 30. Letter from Pfeil, July 7, 1693, ARSI, Bras. Vol. 2, fols. 330r– v. 31. Pfeil wrote an astronomical booklet about the comet he observed in Pará in 1695. The booklet was dedicated to the Portuguese queen and sent to Portugal. The current location of the book is uncertain; see Meier and Aymoré, Brasilien, 186. 32. Anotacam contra huns incoherentes pontos no Tractado da Justificacam, formada pelos Plenipotenciarios na Corte Real de Lisboa & impressa no Anno de 1681 sobre os limites do Brasil com a Resolucam da Linha do Polo a Polo lancada. Que divide as Terras Occidentaes de Portugal & Castella. E Resposta. Se além desta antiga Linha divisória EI Rey de Portugal tem hoje legítimo Dominio de mais terras Para Occidente e até onde se estendão. Composta por o P. Aloysio Conrado Pfeil da Companhia de Jesu, Germano e Missionário do Maranhão. Pará, 1681. BNA, Cod. 51–V– 22, 211 pp. 33. Pfeil’s colleague Jodocus Perret reports on this map in his letter of August 1685 and adds it (or a copy of it) to a separate letter. However, the attached map is not found in any of the Portuguese and Brazilian archives. Meier and Aymoré, Brasilien, 322. 34. Compendio das mais substanciaes Razões e argumentos, que evidentemente Provam que a Capitania chamada Norte situada na boca do Rio das Amazonas legitimamente pertence à Coroa de Portugal. E que El Rey de França Para ella como nem ao Pará ou Maranhão tem ou teve jus algum.
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Note s to Pag e s 2 65 – 2 6 7
Belém do Pará, April 1, 1700. BNA, Cod. 51–VI– 11, fols. 151r– 167v. 35. Almeida, A formação, 53– 54. 36. BNA, Seçao Reservados, doc. 4517, fol. 51r. 37. The Treaty of Utrecht, signed in 1713, established new boundaries between the colony of Brazil and French Guiana and annulled the Provisional Treaty, signed in 1700. According to the Treaty of Utrecht, the French gave up their claims to the land of Cabo Norte and permitted the reconstruction of the Portuguese forts Araguari and Massapá. A fort was constructed at São José de Macapá, now in present-day Macapá, as a base of Portuguese power in the region. In the eighteenth century France retook control of the area. This international dispute continued until 1900. Only in 1900, after the Barão do Rio Branco’s diplomatic defense in front of arbitration commission in Geneva, did Brazil secure possession of the region. 38. Jacques Coclé (1628– 1710), also known as Jacobo Cocleo, was born in Reims. After finishing his education, he worked as a professor of mathematics and astronomy in Lisbon. He arrived in Brazil in 1660 and was initially assigned to the mission in Pernambuco. From 1662 to 1671 Coclé served as a missionary in Ceará; he later returned to Pernambuco. He ended his career as a rector of the Jesuit college at Rio de Janeiro and died in Bahia. Jorge Pimentel Cintra, Antônio Gilberto Costa, and Rafael Henrique de Oliveira, “O mapa do padre Cocleo: Uma análise cartográfica,” Anais do V Simpósio Luso-Brasileiro de Cartografia Histórica (2013): 2. 39. Mapa da maior parte da costa e sertão do Brazil, extraído do original do Pe. Cocleo. Manuscript in color; 120.5 cm height × 224 cm width. AHEx. The copy of the map was obtained courtesy of Valquiria Ferreira da Silva. 40. See Valquiria Ferreira da Silva, “Extraído do original: Arte ciência e técnica no mapa da America Portuguesa do Padre Cocleo” (Ph.D. diss., Universidade Federal de Minas Gerais, forthcoming). Cited here with the permission of the author. 41. Maria Márcia Magela Machado and Friedrich Ewald Renger, “Os primórdios da ocupação de Minas Gerais em mapas,” Revista Brasileira de Cartografia 67, no. 4 (2015): 764.
42. Cintra, Costa, and de Oliveira, “O mapa,” 8, 13. The prime meridian according to Praia was used years later by Caetano Luis de Miranda and other anonymous authors in nineteenth-century maps. 43. Machado and Renger, “Os primórdios,” 764. 44. Friedrich E. Renger, “Minas Gerais Cartography: Colonial and Imperial Periods,” in The Cartographic Challenge of the New: Looking over the Globe and Brazil; Mapping and Delineating Minas Gerais; Belo Horizonte and the Cartography of a Planned City/O desafio cartográfico de novo: Olhares sobre o globo e o Brasil; Belo Horizonte e a cartografia de uma ciudade planejada, ed. Júnia Ferreira Furtado and Valquiria Ferreira da Silva (Belo Horizonte: Odisseia, 2017), 101. 45. Mapa das Minas de Ouro e São Paulo e costa do mar que lhe petence, attributed to Felix de Azevedo Carneiro e Cunha, ca. 1717. BNRJ. 46. Guillaume Delisle, “Détermination géographique de la situation et de l’etendue des différentes parties de la terre,” Mémoires de l’Académie des Sciences (1720): 365– 84. This publication had a huge impact on further mapping of Brazil, including maps produced by Jesuits. Delisle’s map of America, published in 1722, caused high tension among the Portuguese because it showed Colônia do Sacramento and Cabo Norte as lying west of the line of Tordesillas, implying that they belonged to Spain. See Furtado, Oráculos da geografia, 304. 47. Provisão régia de 18 de novembro de 1729. AHU, Códice No. 248 do Conselho Ultramarino, fols. 249v– 250. In Portuguese colonial terminology, comarca was usually understood as an administrative division of the country where a court of justice was held, but later the idea of municipality was used as a new entity, whereas the comarca remains a judicial division to this day. 48. Almeida, A formação, 101. 49. Domenico Capacci (1694– 1736) was born in Naples, Italy. Trained in mathematics and astronomy, he arrived in Lisbon at the invitation of the Portuguese King João V, who appointed him royal mathematician and geographer. His first assignment was the installation of an astronomical observatory at the Colégio de Santo Antão in Lisbon. Later Capacci conducted fieldwork
aimed at surveying Portugal. Together with Diogo Soares, in 1729 Capacci was sent to Brazil, where he worked until his death. Leite, História da Companhia, 8:130– 32. 50. Diogo Soares (1684– 1748) was born in Lisbon and joined the Jesuit order in 1701. He was a professor of humanities and philosophy at the University of Évora and taught mathematics at the Colégio de Santo Antão in Lisbon. In his writing, titled Letters of the Sertanistas, he elaborated the importance of Portuguese territories in Brazil, especially of the Minas Gerais region. He died in Goiás in 1748. For more about Soares, see Serafim Leite, “Diogo Soares, S.I.: Matemático, astrónomo, e geógrafo de Sua Majestade no Estado do Brasil (1684– 1748),” Brotéria 45, no. 6 (1947): 596– 604. 51. Almeida, A formação, 110. 52. Planta da Fortaleza da Lage na Barra do Rio de Janeyro. 1730. Manuscript in color; 18.8 cm height × 32 cm width. AHU. 53. Planta da Fortaleza de Nª. Sª. da Conceição na Cidade do Rio de Ianeyro. 1730. [Scale ca. 1:800]. Manuscript in color; 19.7 cm height × 32.3 cm width. AHU. 54. Planta da Fortaleza de S. Sebastião na cidade do Rio de Janeiro. [Scale ca. 1:800]. Manuscript in color; 19.4 cm height × 32.6 cm width. AHU. 55. Planta das fortalezas de terra no morro de S. Ioão Barra do Rio de Ianeyro, 1630. [Scale ca. 1:400]. Manuscript in color; 19.1 cm height × 32 cm width. Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, Lisbon. 56. Planta do Forte de S. Diogo na Barra do Rio de Ianeyro. 1730. [Scale ca. 1:400]. Manuscript in color; 19.1 cm height × 32 cm width. AHU. 57. Planta do Forte do Villeganhon na Ençeada do Rio de Ianeyro. 1730. [Scale ca. 1:800]. Manuscript in color; 18.5 cm height × 31.7 cm width. AHU. 58. Sumidouro nas Geraez e Matto Detro [Dentro]. 1732. Manuscript in color; 19.5 cm height × 32.9 cm width. AHU. 59. S. Sebastião nas Geraez e Matto Dentro. 1732. Manuscript in color; 19.5 cm height × 32.4 cm width. AHU. 60. S. Caetano nas Geraez e Matto Dentro. 1732. Manuscript in color; 19.5 cm height × 32.4 cm width. AHU.
Notes to Pages 267–272
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61. Four sheets are catalogued by title as follows: [Carta da Capitania de Minas Gerais entre a Serra Tucambira, Rio Jequitinhonha e o seu afluente Araçuaí], [Carta da Capitania de Minas Gerais entre o rio Paraopeba e Ribeirão do Carmo], [Carta da Capitania de Minas Gerais entre os rios das Velhas e o Araçuaí], and [Carta da Capitania de Minas Gerais entre os rios São Pitangui e Santo Antônio]. Manuscripts in color; each 19.8 cm height × 32.4 cm width. AHU. 62. Machado and Renger, “Os primórdios,” 767. 63. “Tabuada das latitudes dos principais portos, cabos e ilhas do mar do sul na América austral e portuguesa pelos padres Diogo Soares e Domingos Capassi, matemáticos régios no Estado do Brasil.” In total, they determined the latitudes of 184 locations on the coast and inland, of which no fewer than 116 are from Minas Gerais. Machado and Renger, “Os primórdios,” 768. 64. Rios e córregos em que se descobrirão e minerão os diamantes desde o anno de 1729 até o presente de 1734. Manuscript in color; 50.5 cm height × 67 cm width. Attributed to Diogo Soares and Capacci. GEAEM, No 4637. 65. Renger, “Minas Gerais,” 106. 66. Almeida, A formação, 112. 67. Carta topografica da Nova Colonia e cidade do Sacramento no Grande Rio da Prata T.D.E.O. Ao Poderosissimo Rey e Senhor D. João V &c. Pelo P. M. Diogo Soares S.I. Seo Geographo no Estado do Brazil. Anno de 1731. Manuscript in color; 54 cm height × 79 cm width. AHEx, 014/M-1/G-2-B-3. 68. O Grande Rio da Prata na America Portugueza e Austral. T.D.E.O. Ao Poderosissimo Rey e Senhor D. João V no seo real Concelho Ultramarino. Pelo P.M. Diogo Soares S.I. Seo Geographo no Estado do Brazil. Colônia: 1731. Manuscript in color; 42.5 cm height × 71.2 cm width. AHEx, 018/M-11/G-2-B-10. 69. Furlong, Cartografía jesuítica, 1:52. 70. Mauro, “Political and Economic Structures,” 63. 71. Almeida, A formação, 179– 82. 72. Carta 4 A costa da Ponta de Araçatuba, Ilha de S. Catarina, Rio de S. Francisco a Parnaguá até a barra de Ararapira com parte do caminho do Certão. Attributed to Diogo Soares. [S.l., ca. 1737].
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Note s to Pag e s 27 2 – 2 81
Manuscript in color; 23 cm height × 30.9 cm width. AHU, Cartografia Manuscrita do Brasil, 1138. 73. Carta 9.ª da costa do Brazil ao meridiano do Rio de Janeiro dezde a Barra de Santos até à da Marambaya / pelos PP Diogo Soares e Domingos Capacî S. J.G.R. no Estado do Brasil. [Scale ca. 1:1,000,000]. [S.l., 1737]. Manuscript in color; 19.3 cm height × 32.1 cm width. AHU, Cartografia Manuscrita do Brasil, 1142. 74. Carta 6.ª da costa do Brasil ao meridiano do Rio de Janeiro. Dez a ponta de Araçatuba athe à barra do Guaratuba / pelo P. M. Diogo Soarez S. J. G. R. no Estado do Brasil. [Scale ca. 1:1,000,000]. [S.l., 1737]. Manuscript in color; 18.5 cm height × 31.6 cm width. AHU, Cartografia Manuscrita do Brasil, 1140. 75. O Rio de S. Francisco Xavier na América Austral e Portuguesa Aos 26, 12′ e 58″ de Latitud / pelo P.M. Diogo Soarez S.J. Geographo Regio. [Scale ca. 1:400,000]. [S.l., 1737]. Manuscript in color; 19.5 cm height × 32.5 cm width. AHU, Cartografia Manuscrita do Brasil, 1144. 76. Carta 5.ª da Costa do Brasil ao Meridino. do Rio de Janeyro desde a barra de Ibepetuba até à ponta de Guarùpaba na E. de Syri / pelo Padre Diogo Soares S. J. G[eógraf]o R[égio] no E. do Brazil. [Scale ca. 1:1,000,000]. [S.l., ca. 1738]. Manuscript in color; 19.3 cm height × 32.1 cm width. AHU, Cartografia Manuscrita do Brasil, 1139. 77. [Planta da costa do Brasil desde a barra do Rio Grande de São Pedro até às proximidades do cabo de Santa Maria]. [Scale ca. 1:1,000,000]. [S.l., ca. 1740]. Manuscript in color; 23.8 cm height × 32.5 cm width. AHU, Cartografia Manuscrita do Brasil, 1243. 78. [Planta da costa desde a barra de Paranaguá até ao Rio de Prata, indicando o interior, o curso deste rio e dos rios Uruguai e Paraná e seus afluentes]. [S.l., ca. 1740]. Manuscript in color; 41 cm height × 63.3 cm width. AHU, Cartografia Manuscrita do Brasil, 1244. 79. Furtado, Oráculos da geografia, 385. 80. Almeida, A formação, 103. 81. Jessica Aparecida Correa, “O Novo Atlas da América Portuguesa e a oficialização do território colonial (1730– 1749),” Boletim Gaúcho de Geografia 43, no. 1 (2016): 119. 82. Mapa dos confins do Brasil, com as terras da Coroa de Espanha na América Meridional.
Ajud.e Engenheiro Iozé Monteiro de Carvalho, 1749. Scale ca. 1:6,000,000. Manuscript map in color; 67 cm height × 55 cm width. BNRJ, cart1004807. 83. Furtado, Oráculos da geografia, 524. 84. Júnia Ferreira Furtado, “Colecionismo e gosto: As compras portuguesas de livros e estampas nos Países Baixos meridionais,” in Un mundo sobre papel: Libros, grabados y mapas de Flandres en los impérios español y portugués (siglos XVI– XVIII), ed. Thomas Werner, Eddy Stols, Iris Kantor, and Júnia Ferreira Furtado (Leuven: Acco, 2009), 425. 85. Cintra and Furtado, “Bourguignon D’Anville’s Carte,” 280. 86. The frontier line proposed in the Carte de l’Amérique Méridionale is much more detailed than that in the Mapa das Cortes (thin red line). Moreover, the Portuguese borders with the Guianas are not presented by the Mapa das Cortes at all (the Portuguese demarcation line stops just northeast of Rio Negro). 87. Cintra and Furtado, “Bourguignon D’Anville’s Carte,” 310. 88. The demarcation instructions were issued as early as 1750, but the death of King Joaõ V of Portugal only six months after the signing of the Treaty and the ensuing political shifts delayed the implementation of the demarcation in the field. Alexandre de Gusmão was removed as the chief Portuguese negotiator, and the implementation of the Treaty of Madrid was entrusted to the new Secretary of State, Sebastião José de Carvalho e Melo, 1st Marquis of Pombal. In 1751 Pombal entrusted the delineation of the northern boundary on the Amazon and Negro Rivers to his brother, Francisco Xavier de Mendonça Furtado. Finally, on April 30, 1753, the Portuguese court sent a decree on the implementation of the demarcation, appointing a group of engineers, mathematicians, and astronomers who would form a team of experts for the expedition. See Marcos Carneiro de Mendonça, ed., A Amazônia na era Pombalina: Correspondência inédita do Governador . . . Francisco Xavier de Mendonça Furtado, 1751– 1759 (Rio de Janeiro: Instituto Histórico Geográfico Brasileiro, 1963), 1:369– 84. 89. Lorenz Wilhelm Kaulen (1716– 1797) was born in Cologne, Germany. He studied philosophy in Cologne and then continued his education in
Büren and Münster, where he studied theology. In 1750 Kaulen came to Brazil to serve as a missionary in the province of Maranhão. He worked as an assistant professor at the college of Belém do Pará and as a missionary on the Xingu River (a tributary of the Amazon). In late 1757, on the eve of the suppression of the order, he was deported with other Jesuits. After his arrival in Lisbon in 1758, he remained active in Portugal until his death. Meier and Aymoré, Brasilien, 285– 86. 90. Meier and Aymoré, Brasilien, 295. 91. János ( Johann) Nepomuk Szluha (1723– 1803) was born in Ógyallán, Hungary (modern-day Hurbanovo, Slovakia). Szluha was a distinguished mathematician, astronomer, and cartographer. He studied philosophy in Budim, Leoben, Klagenfurt, and Vienna, and theology in Graz. From 1753 to 1759, he worked as a missionary on the Pinaré River (province of Maranhão). In addition, he taught at the Jesuit college of Belém do Pará. After the expulsion he was active in the Jesuit college at Raab (Győr). He died in Graz, Austria. See Meier and Aymoré, Brasilien, 341– 42. 92. Mappa Viceprovinciae Societatis Jesu Maragnonii. Anno MDCCLIII Concinnata. [Scale ca. 1:3,300,000]. [1753]. Manuscript; 77.3 cm height × 115 cm width. The original is kept in the BPÉ, Gav 4 nº 25. 93. Leite, História da Companhia, 4:390– 91. 94. Mappa V-Provinciae Maragnonii Societatis Jesu cum adjecentibus quibusdam terris Hispanorum, Gallorum & Batavorum A. MDDCCLV / Anselm Eckart. [S.l.], 1755. Manuscript; 38 cm height × 46.5 cm width. ML, 9222. 95. Anselm Eckart, “Zusätze zu Pedro Cudena’s Beschreibung der Länder von Brasilien,” in Reisen einiger Missionarien der Gesellschaft Jesu in Amerika, aus ihren eigenen Aufsätzen, ed. C. G. von Murr (Nuerenbeg: Bey Johann Eberhard Zeh, 1785), 459. 96. Ignatius Szentmártonyi (1718– 1793) was a Croatian of Hungarian descent. Born in Kotoriba, he entered the Jesuit order in 1735 and then he studied philosophy (1739– 41) in Graz and mathematics (1744– 45) and theology (1746– 49) in Vienna. He was ordained a priest in 1748. Initially he taught mathematics in Croatia but was reassigned to Graz in 1750. In 1751 Szentmártonyi was sent to Lisbon but after arriving had to wait for almost two Notes to Pages 281–284
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years before departing for Brazil. Before he left, King José I of Portugal awarded Szentmártonyi the title of royal and court mathematician and astronomer, issuing a special decree that would guarantee him a regular salary and an unhindered return to his homeland after his task was completed. Upon the suppression he spent seventeen years imprisoned in Lisbon. After his release in 1777, he lived in Varaždin, Croatia, where he developed an interest in linguistics. The majority of his geographical and cartographic works have been either lost or destroyed. Mirela Altic, “Missionary Cartography of the Amazon after the Treaty of Madrid (1750): A Jesuit’s Contribution to the Demarcation of Imperial Frontiers,” Terrae Incognitae 46, no. 2 (2014): 76. 97. Giovanni Angelo Brunelli (1722– 1804) was a secular priest and eminent Bolognese astronomer. He joined the expedition in 1753. His most important work in the field of exploration of the Amazon region, On Pororoca (1767), described the wave phenomenon that occurred in some areas of the mouth of the Amazon. Though Brunelli’s work is much better known than Szentmártonyi’s, he played a smaller role in the compilation of the map of the Amazon. The reason for this contradiction is to be found in the different fates that befell these two mathematicians after the expedition was completed: while Szentmártonyi ended up in prison and was discredited as a scientist through the suppression of the Jesuit order, Brunelli returned to Europe, where he was given every possible honor and privilege, and he went on to teach mathematics at the Royal College of Nobles in Lisbon. See Carlos Francisco Moura, Astronomia na Amazônia no século XVIII: Tradado de Madri (Rio de Janeiro: Real Gabinete Português de Leitura, 2008), 62– 67. 98. The complete log of the expedition, titled “Diário de Viagem que o Ilmo. e Exmo. Sr. Francisco Xavier de Mendonça Furtado, governador e capitão-general do Estado do Maranhão, fez ao rio Negro. A Expedição das Demarcações dos Reais Domínios de Sua Majestade,” was published in Mendonça, A Amazônia na era Pombalina, 2:615– 31. 99. Artur Cézar Ferreira Reis, Limites e demarcações na Amazônia brasileira: A fronteira com as colônias espanholas (Belém: Secretaria de Estado da Cultura, 1993), 2:230– 35.
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100. After the expedition was completed, Sturm remained in service on the northern frontier, producing a number of maps and plans. In 1762 he made a plan of Barcelos, a settlement on the Río Negro. In 1763 two forts, the Forte de São José de Marabitanas and the Forte de São Gabriel da Cachoeira, were built according to his plans. 101. Mappa hidrográfico dos rios Amazonas e Negro Levantado pelos Off.es Engenheiros, Sebastião José, João André Schwebel, Felipe Storm, Adam Leopoldo de Breuning, e ratificado pelas Observações Astronômicas do Padre Ignacio Semartoni, 1755. [Scale ca. 1:550,000]. Manuscript in 4 sheets. AHEx, 13.03.2740. 102. Altic, “Missionary Cartography,” 80. 103. For the background of the expedition, see Gustavo Ferreira Glielmo, “O projeto português para a Amazônia e a Companhia de Jesus (1751– 1759): Reflexos do confronto entre absolutismo ilustrado e poder religioso na América equinoctial” (Ph.D. diss., Universidade de Brasília, 2010). 104. When one of the participants in the demarcation expedition, the military engineer Henrique Antonio Galluzzi, compiled his Mappa geral do bispado do Pará (1759), he did not implement the information from Szentmártonyi’s survey into his map. One of the reasons might also have been the fact that the Jesuits were no longer welcome in Brazil. Galluzzi therefore prepared the map based upon his observations that reflected these changes clearly. All missions disappeared, and parishes were shown instead. Moreover, drastic changes were implemented in toponymy, in which all local names were banned and replaced by Portuguese ones associated with the Braganza family and the Order of Christ. Graciete Guerra da Costa and Jorge Pimentel Cintra, “Mappa geral do Bispado do Pará: Um novo paradigma da cartografia amazônica,” Anais do V Simpósio Luso-Brasileiro de Cartografia Histórica (2013): 4. 105. The 1862 copy has a slightly different title: Mappa Geographico dos Rios por onde navegou o Illmo e Exmo Sñr. Francisco Xavier de Mendonça Furtado, sahindo da cidade do Pará para o Arraial do Rio-Negro no dia dous de Outubro de 1754, com a exacta delineação da maior parte do Rio das Amazonas, e Rio Negro por onde o mesmo Senhor continuou a viagem até a Aldêa de Mariuá; notando-se tambem a entrada dos mais Rios que vem
communicar, ou confundir as suas aguas com os antecedentes, juntamente as Estações, ou logares de repouso com o signal de uma estrelinha. Executado pela direcção, e diligencia dos Engenheiros da Expedição, o Sargto- mor Sebastião Jozé, o Capm João André Schwebel, o Ajude Phelippe Sturm, e o Ajude Adam Leopoldo de Breuning, e ratificado pelas observações astronomicas do Pe Ignacio Semartoni. AHEx, Mapoteca No. 117– c. See Adonias, A cartografia da região Amazônica, 1:506– 7. 106. See Sá e Faria’s maps: Demostraçao do Rio Ybicuy e braços que o formao / Descenhado pe los matheriaes referidos na explicaçao; Exemplo geographico que comprehende o terreno que toca a Demarcaçao da primeira Partida, copiado é reduzido a mayor exactissimamente do Mapa das Cortes; and Mappa geographico da campanha por donde marchou o xercito de S[a] Magestade Fidelisima sahindo do Rio Grande de Sam Pedro; all compiled in 1759 as part of the demarcation process. Chapter 4 1. For a general overview on the cartography of New France, see David Buisseret, Mapping the French Empire in North America (Chicago: Newberry Library, 1991). For the history of the mapping of the Great Lakes region, see Kevin Kaufman, The Mapping of the Great Lakes in the Seventeenth Century (Providence, RI: John Carter Brown Library, 1989), and Robert W. Karrow, Mapping the Great Lakes Region: Motive and Method (Chicago: Newberry Library, 1977). 2. A facsimile was made from the only preserved photograph of the original. The original, held by the Biblioteca Ambrosiana in Milan, Italy, was destroyed in a bombing during World War II. 3. Samuel Eliot Morison, The European Discovery of America: The Northern Voyages (New York: Oxford University Press, 1971), 323. 4. The original map is held by the Vatican Library, Rome, Italy; before its acquisition by the Vatican, it was held by the Museo Borgia of the Propaganda Fide. 5. The most dramatic feature of the Verrazzano map is this vast nonexistent protuberance of the Pacific Ocean, which appeared as the Sea of Verrazzano on maps and globes for the next sixty years.
Verrazzano believed that the sea that lay behind the today’s North Carolina’s Outer Banks was the Pacific. Thus, North America at this point seemed nothing more than a rather long, extremely narrow isthmus. This mistake led mapmakers, starting with Maggiolo and Girolamo Verrazzano, to show North America as almost completely divided in two, the two parts connected only by a narrow piece of land on the east coast. It would take more than a century for this Sea of Verrazzano to disappear from maps. 6. His maps are lost but are referenced in a letter by his nephew Jacques Noël, dated 1587 and printed by Richard Hakluyt with the account of Cartier’s third voyage, in Richard Hakluyt, The Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques and Discoveries of the English Nation, 3 vols. (London: Imprinted by G. Bishop, R. Newberie, and R. Barker, 1598). 7. Li Shenwen, Stratégies missionnaires des Jésuites français en Nouvelle-France et en Chine au XVIIième siècle (Sainte-Foy, Québec: Presses de l’Université Laval L’Harmattan, 2001), 71. 8. The Canadian scholar Conrad Heidenreich wrote several extensive studies on Samuel de Champlain and his contribution to the mapping of Canada. See Heidenreich, Cartographica: Explorations and Mapping of Samuel de Champlain, 1603– 1632 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1976), and “The Mapping of Samuel de Champlain, 1603– 1635,” in Cartography in the European Renaissance, ed. David Woodward, vol. 3 of The History of Cartography (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), 1538– 49. 9. Champlain is given credit for discovering Lakes Huron and Ontario because he was the first to publish information about their existence, not because he was the first European to have seen them. The first European to visit those lakes was probably Étienne Brûlé in 1615. He was also the first European to visit Lake Nipissing in 1610 and the first to penetrate into the country of the Neutral Nation in the Niagara Peninsula. Brûlé, however, left no record of his exploration. 10. In one of his notes from 1605, Champlain explained how he included knowledge from the indigenous nations in his maps. He drew the coastline around Cape Ann, which he had just explored, and then asked a group of natives to add Notes to Pages 286–291
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to the map their own information. What they drew for him was Massachusetts Bay, the mouth of the Merrimac River, and with pebbles they located the number of indigenous people (peuplades) he was going to encounter. The next day Champlain wrote, “I recognized in this bay everything the Indians at Island Cape [Cape Ann] had drawn for me.” See Heidenreich, “The Mapping of Samuel de Champlain,” 1546. 11. Carte geographiqve de la Novvelle Franse faictte par le Sievr de Champlain Saint Tongois Cappitaine Ordinaire povr le Roy en la Marine. Faict len 1612. David Pelletier fecit. In: Samuel de Champlain, Les Voyages du Sieur de Champlain (Paris: Claude Collet, 1613). Copperplate engraving, colored by hand; 44 cm height × 77 cm width. ML, 19911. 12. [La Nouvelle France] facit pal le Sr. de Champlain 1616. [Paris, ca. 1653]. Copperplate; 34.4 cm height × 53.6 cm width. JCB, Map Collection, Cabinet C61 Ch. For more about this map, see Lawrence C. Wroth, “An Unknown Champlain Map of 1616,” Imago Mundi 11 (1954): 685– 94; and Heidenreich, “The Mapping of Samuel de Champlain.” 13. Carte de la Nouvelle-France, augmentée depuis la derniere, servant à la navigation faicte de son vray meridien par le Sr. de Champlain Capitaine pour le Roy en la Marine. [Paris]: Faicte . . . par le sieur de Champlain, 1632. Copperplate; 53 cm height × 86 cm width. ML, 19893. The map was attached to his accounts, entitled Les voyages de la Nouvelle-France occidentale, dicte Canada (Paris: C. Collet, 1632). 14. In 1620– 21 or 1623 (estimated dates), Étienne Brûlé and a certain Grenolle traveled through Georgian Bay and the St. Marys River, portaged the rapids at present-day Sault Sainte Marie into Lake Superior, and followed the northern shore, possibly to present-day Portage, Superior, and Duluth, Minnesota. Olga Jurgens, “Brûlé, Étienne,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (University of Toronto/Université Laval, 2003– ), accessed September 9, 2017, http://www .biographi.ca/en/bio/brule_etienne_1E .html. 15. Buisseret, Mapping the French Empire, 9. 16. The plate of his uncompleted 1616 map was augmented by Pierre Duval and published in 1653, with further states in 1664, 1669, and 1677. The 1632
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map was copied by Jean Boisseau and published without acknowledgment in 1643. In 1669 Nicolas de Fer went even further when he very slightly altered the plate of Champlain’s 1632 map and published it without any reference to Champlain. Heidenreich, “The Mapping of Samuel de Champlain,” 1547. 17. The first mission was founded in Penobscot Bay (named after the Penobscot nation) in 1609 as part of the French colony of Acadia. The second mission was established in 1611 when two Jesuits, Pierre Biard and Énemond Massé, arrived in Port Royal, Acadia. Using their mission as a base, they managed to explore the shores of Maine and New Brunswick. However, the mission failed as early as 1613 following a raid by Virginians. After initial efforts to establish their missions in Acadia, the Jesuits decided to extend their activities to the banks of the Saint Lawrence River. This mission was established in 1625 by Fathers Charles Lalemant (as superior), Énemond Massé, and Jean de Brébeuf, along with two assistants, François Charton and Gilbert Buret. However, the mission failed following the occupation of Quebec by English forces in 1629. See Shenwen, Stratégies missionnaires, 11. 18. For more on the complex relationship between Jesuits and French colonial authorities, see Bronwen McShea, Apostles of Empire: The Jesuits and New France (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2019). 19. Mary Ann La Fleur, “From Missionaries to Seigneurs: The Contributions of the Jesuits to the Development of the St. Lawrence River Valley in the Seventeenth Century,” in Jesuit Encounters in the New World: Jesuit Chroniclers, Geographers, Educators and Missionaries in the Americas, 1549– 1767, ed. Joseph A. Gagliano and Charles E. Ronan (Rome: Institutum Historicum Societatis Jesu, 1997), 166– 67. 20. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 4:225. 21. Jérôme Lalemant (1593– 1673) was born in Paris. He studied philosophy and theology. After finishing his studies, he taught philosophy and the sciences at the Collège de Clermont (1623– 26) and did his third probationary year at Rouen (1626– 27); then he became minister of the Collège de Clermont (1627– 29), principal of its boarding school (1629– 32), and rector of the college in Blois (1632– 36); from 1636 to 1638 he was again
at the Collège de Clermont, this time as spiritual adviser. Few Jesuits had had as wide experience as Father Lalemant before he came to New France. In the year of his arrival in the country he was named superior of the Huron mission (1638– 45), succeeding Jean de Brébeuf. He was the founder of the main Huron mission of Sainte-Marie. He was later appointed superior of the Jesuits in Canada (1645– 50 and 1659– 65). Léon Pouliot, “Lalemant, Jérôme,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (University of Toronto/Université Laval, 2003– ), accessed September 7, 2017, http://www.biographi .ca/en/bio/lalemant_jerome_1E .html. Jean de Brébeuf (1593– 1649) was born in Condé-sur-Vire, Normandy, France. He joined the Society of Jesus at the age of twenty-four. After spending three years at the College of Rouen, Brébeuf was sent on the missions to New France. He arrived in Quebec in 1625, along with Fathers Charles Lalemant and Énemond Massé. There he worked primarily with the Hurons for the rest of his life, except for a few years in France from 1629 to 1633. He learned the Hurons’ language and culture, writing extensively about each to aid other missionaries. Until 1638 he was the superior of the Huron mission. When in the following year (1649) more than a thousand Iroquois attacked the Huron missions, he was taken prisoner and, together with Gabriel Lalemant, was tortured and killed. As a Jesuit martyr, he was canonized in 1930 and proclaimed in 1940 the patron saint of Canada along with his seven martyred companions. René Latourelle, “Brébeuf, Jean de (Échon),” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (University of Toronto/Université Laval, 2003— ), accessed September 7, 2017, http://www .biographi.ca/en/bio/brebeuf_jean_de_1E .html. 22. Corographie du Pays des Hurons. Manuscript; 27 height × 19 cm width. BNF, Cartes et plans, GE F 2470. Photocopy in the MDL, Map Collection, G3520 [1637]. 23. The Indian village on Christian Island, where the mission of Sainte Marie was established in 1650. 24. See the map entitled “Huronia 1615– 1650: A Reconstruction,” which shows the distribution of Indian villages and missions. Conrad Heidenreich, “A New Location for Carhagouha, Recollect Mission in Huronia,” Ontario Archeology 11 (1968): 42.
25. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 16:225, 227. 26. Longitude was measured in hours or leagues, one hour being 15 degrees and one degree being 17.5 leagues. That means that Lalemant’s calculation of 1,300 leagues west of France would place Huronia at 74° W, while his calculation of Huronia as 200 leagues from Quebec would place it at 12° W. The actual figures are about 80° from France and 9° from Quebec. See Conrad Heidenreich, Huronia: A History and Geography of the Huron Indians, 1600– 1650 (Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1971), 27. 27. Description du pais des Hurons. [Scale ca. 1:900,000]. Manuscript in color; 20 cm height × 25 cm width. LOC, Geography and Map Division Washington, DC, G3460 1651.D4. Although unsigned, the map was attributed by Heidenreich to Jean de Brébeuf. 28. Conrad Heidenreich, “SeventeenthCentury Maps of the Great Lakes: An Overview and Procedures for Analysis,” Archivaria 6 (1978): 103. 29. Sainte-Marie was established in 1639 by Jérôme Lalemant and Jean de Brébeuf. It was a fortified missionary settlement that acted as a center and base of operations for Jesuit missionaries on the outskirts of what is now Midland, Ontario. 30. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 14:33– 35, 33:141. 31. John Steckly, “The Early Map ‘Novvelle France’: A Linguistic Analysis,” Ontario Archeology 51 (1990): 22. 32. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 6:41– 45. 33. On that occasion Brébeuf probably sighted Niagara Falls. They also visited some Wenro refugees who had settled among the Neutral Nation in a village called Khioetoa, which they renamed St. Michel. See Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 20:9– 10; 42:65, 102, 105, 307. 34. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 23:274– 81. 35. The fact that only one lake is mentioned as being west of Lake Huron suggests that, like Champlain, Le Jeune and others did not know of the existence of two lakes and consequently assumed that all the information from the indigenous people about Lakes Superior and Michigan referred to the same single lake. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 18:231. 36. With respect to Lake Michigan, Ragueneau Notes to Pages 294–297
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noted that “a peninsula, or a rather narrow strip of land, separates this Lac Superior from a third lake, which we call Lac des Puants, which also flows into our fresh-water sea by a mouth on the other side of the peninsula.” Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 33:149. 37. Chemin des Iroquois, anonymous, undated. AN, Prov. Collège Louis-le-Grand, Ms. Chemin d’Anié au lac Saint Pierre et à New York, Notice 2908. Novvelle France, anonymous, undated. Colored manuscript on parchment; 34 × 23 cm. Formerly in the UKHO, D699/A22; now transferred to the TNA, ADM 352/669. 38. In his account of 1640, Paul de Jeune said, “I have taken their names from a Huron map that Father Paul Ragueneau sent me.” Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 18:233. 39. Conrad Heidenreich, “An Analysis of the 17th-Century Map ‘Novvelle France,’” Cartographica 25, no. 3 (1988): 77. 40. Heidenreich, “An Analysis,” 86. Jean Bourdon (ca. 1601– 1668) was the first engineer-in-chief and land surveyor in the colony of New France and the first attorney general of the Conseil Superieur. He was a close associate of several Jesuit fathers of New France, including Isaac Jogues and Le Jeune. He is author of several known maps of the New France. For more on Jean Bourdon, see Michael Walter Burke-Gaffney, “Canada’s First Engineer: Jean Bourdon (1601– 1668),” Canadian Catholic Historical Association (CCHA) Report 24 (1957): 87– 104. 41. Le Canada— Nouvelle France, &c. Ce qui est le plus advance vers le Septentrion est tiré de diverses Relations des Anglois, Danois, &c. vers le Midy les Costes de Virginie, Nouvelle Suede Pays et Nouvelle Angleterre Sont tirées de celles des Anglois, Hollandois, &c. la grande riviere de Canada ou de St. Laurens, et tous les environs sont suivant les Relations des Francois. Paris: Et chez Pierre Mariette rue S. Iacques a l’Esperáce, 1656. Copperplate, colored by hand; 40 cm height × 54 cm width. ML, 4345. 42. Kaufman, The Mapping of the Great Lakes, 18. 43. Francesco Giuseppe Bressani (1612– 1672) was born in Rome. He entered the Society of Jesus in 1626 at the age of fourteen. He held in succession the chairs of literature, philosophy, and math-
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ematics. Bressani arrived in North America in 1642 and spent some time in Quebec City, where he received training about the indigenous peoples and started studying their languages. In 1650, when his health began to fail, he returned to Italy and served the church there. He died in Florence in 1672. See Albert Tessier, “Bressani, François-Joseph,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1, (University of Toronto/Université Laval, 2003– ), accessed September 8, 2017, http://www.biographi.ca/en /bio/bressani _francois _joseph _1E .html. 44. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 30:218– 19, 225– 29. 45. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 34:97. 46. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 33:147– 51. 47. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 34:221– 25. 48. Heidenreich, “Mapping the Great Lakes,” 34. 49. Breve Relatione d’alcune missioni de’ PP. della Compagnia di Giesù nella Nuova Francia del P. Francesco Gioseppe Bressani della medesina Compagnia all’ Eminentiss. E Reverendiss. Sig. Card. De Lvgo (Macerata: Pergli heredi d’Agostino Grisei, 1653). An English translation of the Breve Relatione is published in Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 37:203– 87; 39:11– 263; 40:13– 65. 50. Novae Franciae accurata delineatio 1657. [Bologna: S.n.], 1657. Copperplate; 51.5 cm height × 75.5 cm width. BNF, Cartes et plans, GE DD2987, conserves one of only a few known copies. The French copy is from the collection of the geographer Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville. It was given to Louis XVI in 1782 and deposited in the BNF in 1924. The other copies are kept in ÖBN, LAC, LOC, and ASMO. The aforementioned copy is unique in that it was accompanied by a text, signed by Bressani, and dated “Bologna, January 11, 1657.” Louis Cardinal, “Bressani: ‘Io dedico la nupva Francia. I dedicate New France. Franc. Gius. Bressano . . . Bologna 11th January 1657’: Analysis of a Recently Identified Copy of Father Francesco Giuseppe Bressani’s Map, Including Dedication, Authorship, Place and Date of Printing, Notes,” Portolan 76 (Winter 2009): 33. 51. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 60:61. 52. Louis Cardinal, “Record of an Ideal: Father Francesco Giuseppe Bressani’s 1657 Map of New France,” Portolan 61 (Winter 2004– 5): 22. 53. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 39:35.
54. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 39:75, 145. On November 18, 1649, he observed a lunar eclipse and reported on it to the Royal Academy of Sciences in Paris in 1650. 55. He actually spent only eight years in New France. 56. Cardinal, “Record of an Ideal,” 16, 18. 57. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 36:115, 201. 58. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 42:37– 47; 60:217; 43:307– 17. 59. One of the most obvious cases is the map by François du Creux (1596– 1666), a French Jesuit who between 1625 and 1656 prepared a ten-volume history of New France based on Jesuit relations. It was published in Paris in 1664 and included a map of New France (Tabvla Novae Franciae), that was clearly derived from both Bressani’s and Sanson’s maps. Du Creux’s map was compiled about 1660. An inset map of the Huron region (Chorographia regionis Huronum. Hodie desertae) is a copy of the Corographie du Pays des Hurons attributed to Jérôme Lalemant. 60. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 44:239– 45; 45:233– 39. 61. Claude-Jean Allouez (1622– 1689) was born in Saint-Didier-en-Velay in south central France. In 1639 he graduated from the college of Le Puy and became a Jesuit novice in Toulouse, France. Allouez arrived in Quebec in 1658 and in 1660, became the superior of the mission at Trois-Rivières, Quebec. In 1667– 69 Allouez served as a missionary to the Potawatomi in Wisconsin, establishing Saint Mark’s mission and founding the mission of Saint James among the Miami and Mascouten peoples, finally returning to Green Bay. In 1671, in Sault Sainte Marie, Michigan, he was a principal speaker at the ceremony that formally declared the Great Lakes and the Mississippi River valley to be the territory of the king of France. In 1671 he founded the St. Francis Xavier mission at the last set of rapids on the Fox River before entering Green Bay. The site was known as Rapides des Pères (Rapids of the Fathers) and eventually became modernday De Pere, Wisconsin. A good portion of Father Allouez’s written work from the time, containing the first documented accounts of the Illinois people, has been preserved. His description of Lake Superior of 1666 and 1667 is included in the Relation de ce qui s’est passé en la Nouvelle France,
published in 1668. Léon Pouliot, “Allouez, Claude,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (University of Toronto/Université Laval, 2003– ), accessed December 27, 2018, http://www.biographi.ca/en /bio/allouez _claude_1E .html. 62. Claude Dablon (1618– 1697) was born in Dieppe, France. At the age of twenty-one he entered the Society of Jesus and, after his course of studies and teaching in France, arrived in Canada in 1655. He was at once dispatched with Father Chaumonot to begin a central mission among the Iroquois at Onondaga. His appointment as superior of the Jesuit missions in New France brought Father Dablon back to Quebec in 1671. He served in this capacity for two terms: 1671– 80 and 1686– 93. Being interested in the exploration of the country, he recorded in The Jesuit Relations the accounts of the journeys of Fathers Marquette and Albanel to the Mississippi and to Lac Saint-Jean. From 1655 to 1672 Father Dablon wrote several chapters of The Jesuit Relations; the account of the journey to the northern sea (Hudson Bay) was published in 1662. The relation of 1672, the last to be published in the seventeenth century, and the annual reports from 1673 to 1679, which remained unpublished for nearly two centuries, are also his work. Marie-Jeand’Ars Charette, “Dablon, Claude,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (University of Toronto/ Université Laval, 2003– ), accessed September 11, 2017, http://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/dablon _claude_1E .html. 63. Jacques Marquette (1637– 1675), born in Laon, France, joined the Society of Jesus at the age of seventeen. In 1666, after he had worked and taught in France for several years, the Jesuits assigned him to New France as a missionary. He showed a great ability to learn the local languages, especially Huron. He is credited with founding several European settlements in Michigan, Illinois, and Wisconsin. After his famous expedition along the Mississippi River in 1673, his health was impaired. While traveling westward in the spring of 1675, Marquette suffered a bout of dysentery. He died on his return trip to Saint Ignace, near the modern town of Ludington, Michigan, at the age of thirty-seven. A year later his remains were exhumed and conveyed to the Saint Ignace mission. See J. Monet, “Marquette, Jacques,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 1 (UniverNotes to Pages 301–304
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sity of Toronto/Université Laval, 2003– ), accessed September 11, 2017, http://www.biographi.ca/en /bio/marquette_jacques _1E .html. 64. Lac Svperievr et avtres lievx ou sont les missions des Peres de la Compagnie de Iesvs comprises sovs le nom d’Ovtaovacs [Paris: Chez Sebastien Mabre-Cramoisy, 1673]. Copperplate; 35.5 cm height × 47.6 cm width. ML, 3828. First published in Relation de ce qui s’est passé de plus remarquable aux missions des pères de la Compagnie de Jésus en la Nouvelle France, les années 1670 & 1671 (Paris: Chez Sebastien Mabre-Cramoisy, 1672) [between pp. 110 and 111]. Reprinted in Relation de ce qui s’est passé de plus remarquable aux missions des pères de la Compagnie de Jésus en la Nouvelle France, les années 1671 & 1672 (Paris: Chez Sebastien MabreCramoisy, 1673), and then again in Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 55: facing p. 94. 65. Lac Tracy ou Supérieur avec les dépendances de la Mission du Saint Esprit. SHD, Département Marine, Cartes et plans, recueil 67, no. 76. [formerly 4044B-73]. 66. Lucien Campeau, “Les cartes relatives à la decouverte du Mississipi par le P. Jacques Marquette et Louis Jolliet,” Les Cahiers des dix 47 (1992): 47. 67. Lac Supérieur et autres lieux òu sont les missions des Péres de la Compagne de Jésus, comprises sous le nom d’Outaoüacs. SHD, département Marine, Cartes et plans, recueil 67, no. 77. [formerly 4044B-74]. 68. Carl Kupfer and David Buisseret, “Supersizing Lake Superior in the Jesuit Map ca. 1670,” Portolan 99 (Fall 2017): 57. 69. That is confirmed by several notes in Allouez’s account. Regarding astronomical observations near the mission of Saint Francis Xavier, he wrote: “We observed on this same day the Eclipse of the Sun predicted by the Astrologers, which lasted from noon until two o’clock; a third of the Sun’s disk, or nearly that, appeared to be eclipsed, the other two thirds making a Crescent.” Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 54:217. 70. Kaufman attributes the map to Allouez and Dablon and Campeau believed the map to be the work of Allouez and Marquette, while Crouse thought it was a compilation of Dablon’s work. See Kaufman, The Mapping of the Great Lakes, 71; Campeau, “Les cartes,” 44; and Nellis M.
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Note s to Pag e s 304– 310
Crouse, Contributions of the Canadian Jesuits to the Geographical Knowledge of New France, 1632– 1675 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell Publications, 1924), 138. 71. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 56:254. 72. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 54:127– 65. 73. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 54:153– 55. 74. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 55:103. 75. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 55:43. 76. The mission of St. Francis Xavier was destroyed in an Iroquois attack in 1687. 77. See Louise Phelps Kellogg, ed., Early Narratives of the Northwest, 1634– 1699 (New York: Barnes & Noble, 1967), 167– 209. 78. Heidenreich, “Mapping the Great Lakes,” 44– 45. 79. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 49:253– 67. 80. Plans des forts faicts par le régiment Carignan Salières sur la rivière de Richelieu dicte autrement des Iroquois en la Nouvelle France [Paris: Sebastien Cramoisy & Sebastien MabreCramoisy, 1666]. Engraving; 36 cm height × 48 cm width. ML, 397. 81. Burke-Gaffney, “Canada’s First Engineer,” 90. 82. Isaac Jogues (1607– 1646) was a Jesuit missionary and martyr who traveled and worked among the Iroquois, Huron, and other indigenous populations in North America. He was born in Orléans, France, and in 1624 he entered the Jesuit novitiate at Rouen; he then went on to study philosophy at the royal college of La Flèche. In 1629 he taught humanities to boys in Rouen. In 1633 Jogues was sent to the Collège de Clermont in Paris to pursue his studies in theology. Apon his arrival in New France in 1636, Jogues joined Jean de Brébeuf, the superior of the Jesuit mission, at their settlement on Lake Huron, the village of Saint Joseph (Ihonatiria). In 1642 he was captured and tortured by the Mohawk and then released. Four years later Jogues was martyred by the Mohawk at their village of Ossernenon, north of the Mohawk River. 83. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 28:36. 84. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 54:137; 55:97. 85. For more on Jolliet, see Jean Delanglez, Life and Voyages of Louis Jolliet (1645– 1700) (Chicago: Institute of Jesuit History, 1948). 86. This autograph map has no original title. It was drawn on nonwoven rag paper, 40 cm height × 30 cm width. The autograph is preserved in AJC,
0100– 0687. See Jean Delanglez, “Marquette’s Autograph Map of the Mississippi River,” Mid-America: An Historical Review 16 (1945): 35– 53. Some authors, however, doubt the authenticity of the autograph map; see David Buisseret and Carl Kupfer, “Validating the 1673 ‘Marquette Map,’” Journal of Illinois History 14 (2011): 261– 76. 87. John Gilmary Shea, Discovery and Exploration of the Mississippi Valley (Clinton Hall, NY: Redfield, 1852), 3– 67; map reproduction facing p. 268. 88. Jacques Marquette, Recit des voyages et des decouvertes du R. Père Jacques Marquette de la Compagnie de Jesus, en l’année 1673 et aux suivantes: La continuation de ses voyages par le R.P. Claude Alloüez, et Le journal autographe du P. Marquette en 1674 & 1675; Avec la carte de son voyage tracée de sa main; Imprimé d’après le manuscrit original restant au Collège Ste Marie à Montréal ([Albany, NY: Imprimerie de Weed, Parsons], 1855). The map is folded at the end of the book. Privately printed for James Lenox of New York. 89. Melchisédech Thévenot, Recueil de voyages de Mr. Thevenot (Paris: Chez Estienne Michallet, 1681). Marquette’s account was published under the title Découverte dans l’Amérique septentrionale, pp. 1– 43. The map was reproduced facing p. 1 of Marquette’s account. 90. Marquette’s 1671 map, “Lac Supérieur,” includes the mission of Saint Francis Xavier, which is not indicated on his 1669 map. That leads us to the conclusion that he used his 1669 manuscript map of the Great Lakes as the main template for his 1673 map (which also fails to note the mission of Saint Francis Xavier). 91. Marquette’s naming the river “Conception” created many doubts in the minds of contemporary researchers. The name, which refers to the nineteenth-century Catholic doctrine with the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary, became one of the reasons some authors considered Marquette’s map, as well as his accounts, nineteenthcentury forgeries. The explanation for naming the Mississippi “Conception” is offered by Marquette himself in his diary: “Above all, I placed our voyage under the protection of the Blessed Virgin Immaculate, promising her that, if she granted us the favor of discovering the great river, I would give it the name of the Conception, and that I would
also make the first mission that I should establish among those new peoples, bear the same name.” Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 59:91. 92. Campeau, “Les cartes,” 50. 93. “Marquette’s Map,” in The Encyclopedia of Chicago, accessed November 26, 2017, http://www .encyclopedia.chicagohistory.org/pages/3603 .html. 94. [Carte du Mississippi et des lacs Supérieur, Michigan et Huron]. Service historique de la Défense, département Marine, Cartes et plans, recueil 67, no. 50; BNF, département Cartes et plans, GESH18PF124DIV5P10 [formerly 4044B-47]. The NL catalog attributes this map to Bernou, while the BNF attributes it to Louis Jolliet. 95. Buisseret and Kupfer, “Validating the 1673 ‘Marquette Map,’” 271– 72. 96. Crouse, Contributions of the Canadian Jesuits, 117. 97. Jean-Baptiste Colbert (1619– 1683) was a French politician who served as Louis XIV’s minister of finance from 1661 to 1683. 98. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 51:57. 99. That probably refers to the fort erected by the French before the English built their own fort at this location in 1682. Crouse, Contributions of the Canadian Jesuits, 118. 100. The expedition was sent by the intendant, Jean Talon, to verify rumors of the presence there of French-speaking Europeans (who were, in fact, Radisson and des Groseilliers, then employed by the Hudson Bay Company). Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 56:149– 217. 101. Carte de la nouvelle découverte que les RR. Pères jésuites ont faite en l’année 1672 et continuée par le R. Père Jacques Marquette, de la mesme compagnie, accompagné de quelques François en l’année 1673, qu’on pourra nommer la Manitounie, à cause de la statue qui s’est trouvée dans une belle vallée et que les sauvages vont recon[n]oistre pour leur Divinité, qu’ils appellent Manitou, qui sign fie Esprit, ou Genie. Color manuscript; 43 cm height × 76 cm width. BNF, Cartes et plans, Ge C 5014. A copy known as the Manitoumie Map II is kept in the BNF, Estampes, Vd.31 83c 116493. 102. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 58:42. 103. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 60:152. 104. Jean-Baptiste-Louis Franquelin (1650– Notes to Pages 310–314
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1712) was a cartographer, royal hydrographer, and teacher of navigation. Franquelin drew around fifty detailed maps of New France. By 1675 he had completed his “Map of the Discovery of Sr. Jolliet.” It showed the canoe route, with portages, from Montreal to the western end of Lake Superior, to the Mississippi, and on to the Gulf of Mexico. He was best known as the author who recorded the explorations of Louis Jolliet and René-Robert Cavelier de La Salle (1684). See Michael Walter Burke-Gaffney, “Franquelin, Jean-Baptiste-Louis,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 2 (University of Toronto/Université Laval, 2003– ), accessed December 26, 2017, http://www.biographi .ca/en/bio/franquelin _jean _baptiste_louis _2E .html. For more information on Franquelin’s cartographic work, see Jean Delanglez, “Franquelin, Mapmaker,” Mid-America: An Historical Review 25 (1943): 29– 79. 105. Campeau, “Les cartes,” 84. 106. Carte de la découverte faite l’an 1673 dans l’Amérique septentrionale. [Paris: Chez Estienne Michallet, 1681]. Engraving; 16 cm height × 40 cm width. Engraving prepared by Jean-Baptiste Libaux. ML, 2079. 107. Abbé Claude Bernou (ca. 1638– 1716) was a French politician and diplomat. His duties at the Department of the Navy led him to take a keen interest in French expeditions to Canada and elsewhere in the world. Between 1677 and 1683, he wrote his memoirs to support the expedition of Cavelier de La Salle. He had strong connections not only with La Salle but also with Jolliet and Franquelin, who generously supplied him with information that provided him with the basis for his drafts of a series of maps of the Great Lakes and the Saint Lawrence River. Heidenreich, “Mapping the Great Lakes,” 48. 108. Carte de l’Amérique septentrionale et partie de la méridionale depuis l’embouchure de la rivière St Laurens jusqu’à l’isle de Cayenne avec les nouvelles découvertes de la rivière de Mississipi ou Colbert, Paris, 1681. Manuscript in color; 147 height × 163 width. Bibliothèque nationale de France, Département Cartes et plans, CPL SH 18E PF 122 DIV 2 P 0 RES. 109. Land and volk-ontdekking in’t Noorder gedeelte van America, door Arquette en Joliet; gedaan in’t Jaar 1673. Published in Pieter van der
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Aa, Atlas Nouveau Et Curieux Des Plus Celebres Itineraires . . . (Leiden, 1714). Copperplate engraving; 17 cm height × 25 cm width. ML, 22844. 110. Buisseret, Mapping the French Empire, 19. 111. La Fleur, “From Missionaries to Seigneurs,” 177– 79. 112. Franquelin was not the first to be appointed to the official position of hydrographer. He was preceded by Martin Boutet (1612– 1683). In 1661 Boutet introduced mathematical courses at the Jesuit college at Quebec, which were oriented toward surveying and navigation. In 1671 Talon named him professor of hydrography, and in 1678 he received an official appointment as royal engineer. Three years after Boutet’s death Franquelin was appointed royal hydrographer. See Thomas Archibald and Louis Charbonneau, “Mathematics in Canada before 1945: A Preliminary Survey,” in Mathematics and the Historian’s Craft: The Kenneth O. May Lectures, ed. Michael Kinyon and Glen van Brummelen (New York: Springer Verlag, 2005), 144. 113. Pierre Raffeix (1635– 1724) was a French Jesuit missionary born in Clermont-Ferrand, France. After studying theology at Toulouse, he arrived in Quebec in 1663. He had worked as a missionary among the local nations until 1679, when he took the position of procurator, sometimes of the college, sometimes of the missions, sometimes of both. He held this office first for eighteen years, until 1697, then again for fifteen more years, from 1700 to 1715. Between these two periods he was minister for a year, 1697– 98, and assistant to the parish priest of Lorette in 1698– 99. He was sent as a missionary, probably in 1699, to the colony of Mont-Louis in the Bay of Gaspé. The failure of this undertaking in the following year led him to return to Quebec, where he died in 1724. Lucien Campeau, “Raffeix, Pierre,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 2 (University of Toronto/ Université Laval, 2003– ), accessed December 26, 2017, http://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/raffeix _pierre_2E .html. 114. At least one more map is attributed to Raffeix, but with less certainty: Carte de la NouvelleFrance depuis l’océan jusqu’au lac Erié et au sud jusqu’à la Nouvelle-Angleterre / [Pierre Raffeix?]. [Scale ca. 1:1,600,000]. Manuscript in color; 48.5 cm width × 71 cm height. SHS, Département
des archives définitives, SH 208, No. 67 [formerly 4044B-67]. 115. Parties les plus occidentales du Canada / [Pierre Raffeix]. [Scale ca. 1:3,950,000]. [1683]. Manuscript map; 61 cm width × 37 cm height. BNF, Cartes et plans, GE D-8042. 116. Daniel Greysolon, Sieur du Lhut (ca. 1639– 1710), also known as Dulhut, Du Lhut, or Du Luth (anglicized), was a French soldier and explorer and the first European known to have visited the area where the city of Duluth, Minnesota, is now located. In 1678 Dulhut left Montreal for Lake Superior, spending the winter near Sault Sainte Marie and reaching the western end of the lake in the fall of the following year, where he concluded peace talks between the Anishinaabe (Saulteur) and Dakota (Sioux) peoples. He is also known for rescuing the Recollect priest Louis Heneppin, captured by the Sioux in 1680. 117. Le lac Ontario avec les lieux circonvoisins et particulièrement les cinq nations iroquoises, 1688 / [par le P. Raffeix, S.J.]. [Scale ca. 1:1,330,000]. Manuscript map; 50 cm width × 38 cm height. BNF, Cartes et plans, GE D-8043. 118. Partie occidentale du Canada ou de la Nouvelle France ou sont les Nations des Ilinois, de Tracy, les Iroquois, et plusieurs autres Peuples . . . (Paris: Chez J. B. Nolin, 1688). Its extended and improved edition, prepared by Guillaume and Claude Delisle (Paris, 1703), was supplemented with data taken from Franquelin’s maps, compiled after 1688. 119. Although the French formally claimed Louisiana in 1682, actual control over the region would be made possible only after the French explorer Pierre Le Moyne d’Iberville developed his “Project sur la Caroline French,” which included futher exploration of the mouth of the Mississippi and establishment of the first permanent French settlements in Fort Maurepas (1699) and Fort Louis de la Mobile (founded in 1702). The arrival of French colonists in the south threatened existing trade links that English Carolina colonists had established in the interior, creating tension among them. 120. Bill Marshall and Christina Johnston, eds., France and the Americas: Culture, Politics, and History; A Multidisciplinary Encyclopedia (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO, 2005), 1155. 121. John Hopkins Kennedy, Jesuit and Savage
in New France (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1950), 49. 122. The first Jesuit in lower Louisiana arrived in 1700, when d’Iberville brought the Jesuit Father Paul Du Ru to explore the Mississippi. Yet, the first Jesuit residence was established in New Orleans only in 1725 by Father Nicholas Ignace de Beaubois. For more on Jesuit history in the Mississippi Valley, see Jean Delanglez, French Jesuits in Lower Louisiana, 1700– 1763 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America, 1935). 123. Archibald and Charbonneau, “Mathematics in Canada,” 145– 46. 124. Joseph Aubery (1673– 1756), born in Gisors (department of Eure), France, joined the Society of Jesus at the age of seventeen. Aubery started his study of theology at the Collège Louisle-Grand in Paris and finished it in Quebec after arriving there in 1694. When he started to work as a missionary, Aubery devoted himself to studying the Abenaki language at the Sault de la Chaudière mission. In 1701 he was entrusted with founding a mission for the Malecites, allies of the Abenakis, at Médoctec (Meductic, New Brunswick) on the Saint John River. From his arrival in this region of mainland Acadia, he championed a policy aimed at uniting all the Abenakis in the territory of New France to shield them from English influence. See Micheline D. Johnson, “Aubery, Joseph,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 3 (University of Toronto/Université Laval, 2003– ), accessed January 1, 2018, http://www.biographi.ca/en/bio /aubery _joseph _3E .html. 125. Partie du Canada ou nouvelle France et de la Nouvelle Angleterre, de l’Acadie dressée par le P. Aubry jésuite depuis le traité de la paix d’Utrecht (du 22 avril 1713) dessinée par le Sr de Morville sous ingénieur en novembre 1713. Manuscript in color; 51 cm height × 102 cm width. BNF, Cartes et plans, GESH18PF124DIV1P5. 126. With his map, Father Aubery suggested a definition of Acadia limiting it to the presentday peninsula of Nova Scotia; a post (the former fort of Pemaquid) to mark the boundary of New France and New England on the Atlantic; and the drawing of a line from this point, following the high grounds, to obtain “a fair and indisputable boundary between the lands which are considered to belong to one or the other.” But this report and Notes to Pages 317–320
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the map Father Aubery had prepared with the help of intendant Bégon made no lasting impression upon French policy, and mainland Acadia continued to be a disputed area. 127. Pierre-Michel Laure (1688– 1738), born in Orléans, France, and joined the Society of Jesus in Paris in 1707. He was soon assigned to the missions in Canada, where he arrived in 1711. Having spent four years as a Jesuit college teacher, he was in charge of the library and studied theology and painting. He started his service as a missionary in the Saguenay region in 1720, which for eighteen years had been virtually abandoned. He was first situated in the Tadoussac mission, then carried on his ministry at the mission at Chicoutimi and to the Papinachois at the post on the Îlets Jérémie, on the shore of the Saint Lawrence River. In 1725 he took up residence in Chicoutimi to rebuild the old mission there. In 1737 Father Laure was appointed resident missionary at Les Éboulements. When he returned to carry on his ministry at Tadoussac in July 1738, it was his last visit to the Saguenay region. He died in 1738 at Les Éboulements. Victor Tremblay, “Laure, Pierre-Michel,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 2 (University of Toronto/ Université Laval, 2003– ), accessed January 1, 2018, http://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/laure_pierre _michel _2E .html. 128. Pierre-Michel Laure, Mission du Saguenay:
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Relation inédite du R.P. Pierre Laure, 1720 à 1730, précédée de quelques notes biographiques sur ce missionnaire par le P. Arthur E. Jones, S.J. (Montreal: Archives de Collège Sainte-Marie, 1889). 129. Cours de Pitchitaoüichetz ou du Saguenay: A Monsieur le Marquis de Beauharnois gouverneur general du Canada / par le Pere Laure J mission[nai]re du domaine. Chicoutimi, 1731. Manuscript in color; 34 cm height × 38 cm width. BNF, Cartes et plans, GE SH 18 PF 127 DIV 4 P 3 D. 130. Thwaites, The Jesuit Relations, 32:249– 53. 131. Carte du domaine du Roy en Canada, 1731 / par le père Laure, jésuite missionaire. Chicoutimi, 1731. Manuscript in color; 79 cm height × 89.5 cm width. BNF, Cartes et plans, GE DD-2987 (8666 B). Three other copies of this map are preserved as well, differing somewhat in details and stage of finalization (dated 1731 and 1732). 132. Carte du cours de la rivière du Saguenay, appellée par les sauvages Pitchitaouichetz . . . / par Nicolas Bellin, vol. 3, facing p. 64. ML, 25329. 133. Carte de la partie orientale de la Nouvelle France ou du Canada / par Nicolas Bellin, vol. 1, facing p. 438. ML, 2880. 134. Cours du fleuve de Saint Laurent depuis la mer jusqu’à Québec / Nicolas Bellin, Paris, 1764, vol. 1, no. 5. 135. Kennedy, Jesuit and Savage, 53.
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Index
Page numbers in italics refer to figures. Abipones (people), 183, 206, 215, 219, 359, 363, 369 Academy of Sciences, Paris, 22, 63, 64, 100, 235, 237, 389 Acadia (Nova Scotia), 289, 302, 319, 320, 386, 393, 394 Acosta, José de, S.J., 20, 66, 136, 138, 142, 332, 333, 351 Acquaviva, Claudio, S.J., 178 Acre, José de, S.J., 21 Act of Possession, 223, 265 Acuña, Cristóbal Diatristán de, S.J., 20–21, 224, 26, 227, 346, 371 Aguarico River, 223 Aguascalientes (state of Mexico), 87 Aguilar, Conde de (ambassador), 151 Agustín, Domingo, S.J., 83 Ahome, 114 Aiaichi (people), 312 Aigenler, Adam, S.J., 98–101 Akanséa (people), 312 Akoroa (people), 312 Alamo, Gonzalo del, S.J., 83 Alaña, José Javier de, S.J., 84, 85, 86, 340 Alarcón, Hernando de, 121, 348 Albanel, Charles, S.J., 313, 389 Albuquerque, NM, 106 Alcalà ( Jesuit college), 9, 14
Alchedomas (people), 103 Alfaro, Diego de, S.J., 364 Algonkian (people), 317 Allegheny River, 318 Allouez, Claude-Jean, 14, 23, 41, 57, 59, 304–7, 310– 15, 389, 390–91 Almeida, André Ferrand de, 5, 279 Almeida, Manoel de, S.J., 28, 336 Alphonse, Jean, 290 Alsué, José García, S.J., 164, 165, 357 Altamirano, Lope Luis, S.J, 195 Altar (presidio), 109, 118, 120 Altar River, 100 Álvares Cabral, Pedro, 257 Álvarez Barreiro, Francisco, 33, 34, 81, 112, 113, 117, 345, 346, plate 8 Álvarez de Piñeda, Alonso, 340 Alvear, Diego de, 24, 333 Alzate y Ramírez, José Antonio de, 81, 135, 339 Amazon, 20, 21, 40, 43, 47, 49, 60, 62, 64, 136, 138, 150, 152, 222–26, 227, 228, 229, 230–32, 233, 234– 44, 250–55, 256, 258–67, 283, 284, plate 38 Amsterdam, 39, 135, 181 Ancud, Chile (fort), 166 Andes, 20, 36, 137, 138–41, 145, 152, 156, 158–61, 166, 172, 178, 183, 221, 222, 226, 232, 250
Andión, Jerónimo de, S.J., 142 André, Louis, S.J., 307 Angelis, Girolamo de, S.J., 27 Angol, 157 Anson, George, 164, 166, 169, 170, 358 Antesignanus (Mapuche chief), 53, 159 Antouhonorons (people), 292 Antwerp, 65, 66, 336 Antwerp ( Jesuit college), 14 Apaches (people), 97, 102, 111, 118 Apistonga (people), 312 Apolobamba, 141, 147 Araçuaí River, 272, 382 Araucanía, 156, 157, 159, 161, 162, 167, 168, 355, 357 Arauco, Chile (fort), 157 Arauco War, 53, 54, 156, 159, 355 Arequipa ( Jesuit college), 141 Argentina, 3, 25, 175, 178, 183, 187, 356, 360, 369, 361 Arias, Antonio, S.J., 97, 115 Arias, Santa, 5, 376 Aristotle, 14 Arizona, 97, 119, 344 Arkansas River, 309, 310, 311, 314, 315 Armazém da Guiné e da Índias, 29, 260 Arnés, Victoriano, 109 Ascension, Antonio de la, S.J., 128 Assinepouel (Nelson River), 313 Assistagúronons (people), 292 assistancy, French, 10, 327, 331 assistancy, German, 10, 14, 69, 75, 331 assistancy, Italian, 10, 331 assistancy, Lithuanian, 331 assistancy, Polish, 331 assistancy, Portuguese, 10, 179, 327, 331 assistancy, Spanish, 10, 179, 331 Assomption (village), 318 Astchauhet (people), 172 astrolabe, use by Jesuits, 35, 99, 103, 110, 123, 306 astronomical observations, by Jesuits, 2, 15, 23–25, 27, 31, 38, 98, 139, 160, 202, 208, 232, 235, 245, 271, 272, 280, 282–85, 306, 319, 329, 333, 365, 380–81 Asúa, Miguel de, 3 Asunción, 183, 192, 207, 212, 216, 364 Asunción, Jesuit college, 180 Atlantic Ocean, 139, 216, 226, 238, 252, 362, 371 Atondo y Antillón, Isidro de, 98, 99, 123 Atotchasi (people), 312 Aubery, Joseph, S.J., 319, 320, 393, 394 Aucaes (people), 174 416
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Augsburg ( Jesuit college), 14, 60 Augustinians, 10, 79, 136, 222 Aymerich y Villajuana, Antonio, 152, 153 Azores, 267, 380 Azores, meridian (Corvo, São Miguel), 38, 39, 227 Babitonga Bay, 278 Bacanuchi (mine), 97, 108 Baegert, Jacob, 61, 132, 134, 350 Bahia (captaincy), 258 Bahia (governorate), 258 Bahía Anna Pink, 166 Baja California, 4, 21, 33, 41, 42, 47, 49, 56, 60, 64, 71, 79, 88, 94, 98, 99–103, 106–10, 121–35, 122, 124, 129, 130, 132, 133, 134, plate 10, plate 11, plate 12 Baja California, missions of, 101–2 Banda Oriental, 40, 45, 192, 198, 275, 276 Baraza, Cypriano, S.J., 145, 147, 353 Barcelona, 16, 333, 364 Barcelona ( Jesuit college), 16 Barcelos, 285 Barcelos, Artur Henrique, 5 Barents, Willem, 39 Barlaeus, Caspar, 66, 261, 263, 379 barometer, use by Jesuits, 28, 285 Baroyeca (presidio), 113 Battle of Curalaba, 156 Baures (people), 146, 147, 152, 352, 353 Baures River, 151 Bayfield Peninsula, 307 Bay of Fundy, 302 Bay of Montevideo, 276 Beauharnois de la Boische, Charles de, 321, 394 Beijing, 27 Belém do Pará, 225, 226, 233, 259, 285, 378, 380, 383 Belém do Pará ( Jesuit college), 380, 383 Bellavista ( Jesuit college), 141 Bellin, Jacques-Nicolas, 61, 65, 108, 155, 164, 178, 193, 321, 322, 358, 361, 394 Bengolea, Juan de, S.J., 151, 152, 213, 354, plate 16 Beni River, 144, 150, 152 Berkeley, Robert, 175 Bermejo River, 203 Bernalillo, 106 Bernou, Abbé Claude, 312, 315, 391, 392 Berry, William, 299 Biard, Pierre, S.J., 386 Billom ( Jesuit college), 14 Biobío River, 156, 157, 159, 160, 161 Biscayne Bay, 83, 340
Biserinis (people), 292 Blaeu, Joan, 66, 59, 181, 182, 184, 248, 250, 261, 379, plate 21 Blaeu, Willem, 39, 181 Blome, Richard, 299 Boca de Ratones, 84, 340 Bogotá. See Santa Fe de Bogotá Bolivia, 20, 136, 141, 147, 178, 183, 189, 352 Bollandus, Johannes, S.J., 18 Bologna, 166, 201, 285 Bologna ( Jesuit college), 14 Bonne, Charles Marie Rigobert, 108, 255, 377 Bonnécamps, Joseph-Pierré de, 319 Bordeaux ( Jesuit college), 14 Borgia, Francisco, S.J., 82 Borri, Christoforo, S.J., 28 Boscovich, Roger, S.J., 25, 334, 351 Boston College, 3 Bouchet, Jean-Venant, S.J., 28 Bougainville, Louis-Antoine de, 177, 215, 361 Bouguer, Pierre, 25, 373 Bourbon, House of, 6, 64, 81, 251, 255, 334, 363 Bourdon, Jean, 298, 308 Braga ( Jesuit college), 14 Bragança ( Jesuit college), 14 Brahe, Tycho, 23 Bramieri, Stephano, S.J., 282 Brazil, 5, 12, 18, 23, 24, 38, 40, 56–58, 65, 66, 178, 179, 182, 289, 222, 239, 257–89 Brazil, missions of, 378 Brébeuf, Jean de, S.J., 14, 32, 51, 293, 295, 296, 298, 299, 301, 302, 386, 387, 390, plate 40 Bréhant de Galinée, René de, 308 Brentano, Carolo, S.J., 38, 50, 51, 62, 150, 237–41, 251, 373, 374, plate 28 Bressani, Francesco Giuseppe, S.J., 14, 23, 24, 38, 51, 52, 56, 62, 299, 300, 301–3, 308, 388, 389 Breuning, Adam Leopoldo de, 285, 384, 385 Briand, Jean-Olivier, 323 Briet, Philippe, S.J., 15 Britain. See Great Britain Brno. See Brünn Bruce Peninsula, 295, 296, 298, 299, 302 Bruges ( Jesuit college), 14 Brûlé, Étienne, 290, 292, 385, 386 Brunelli, Giovanni Angelo, S.J., 285, 384 Brünn (Brno), 26, 94, 95, 350 Bry, Johannes de, 160 Bry, Theodor de, 65, 160 Buade de Frontenac, Louis de (governor), 317, 337
Buenavista (presidio), 113 Buenos Aires, 6, 136, 170, 173, 174, 177, 183, 208 Buenos Aires (audiencia), 135 Buenos Aires ( Jesuit college), 180 Buisseret, David, 4, 5 Burdick, Catherine, 5 Buret, Gilbert, S.J., 386 Burriel, Marcos, S.J., 42, 49, 61, 131, 132, 133, 135 Burrus, Ernest J., S.J., 4, 86, 103, 106, 116, 341, 342 Bustamante, Salvador Ignacio, S.J., 115, 116, 117, 346 Buteux, Jacques, S.J., 301, 302 Cabellero, Lucas, S.J., 364 Cabero, Hernando de, S.J., 88, 341, plate 3 Cabo Blanco. See Cabo Tres Puntas Cabo Norte, 265, 266, 227 Cabo San Lucas, 125 Cabo San Vicente, 107 Cabot, Sebastian, 290 Cabo Tres Puntas, 170 Cabo Verde. See Cape Verde Cabrillo, Juan Rodríguez, 122 Cádiz, 9, 334, 342, 347, 359, 373 Cádiz, meridian, 38 Caiboaté, 199 Calatayud, Pedro de, S.J., 203 Callao, 226 Callao ( Jesuit college), 141 Calusa (people), 83 Camaño, Joaquín, S.J., 14, 40, 62, 71, 72, 184, 207, 214, 219, 220, 221, 222, 369 camera obscura, use by Jesuits, 285 Campeau, Lucien, 311, 314, 390 Cañacures (people), 144 Canada, 5, 61, 64, 290, 298, 299, 308, 310, 317–23 Canary Islands, 38, 39, 100 Cangapol (cacique), 56, 174, 177, 360 Cantino, Alberto, 260 Capacci, Domenico, S.J., 14, 24, 38, 40, 56, 58, 271– 73, 274, 275–81, 333, 381, plate 32 Cape Breton Island, 319 Cape Florida, 84 Cape Horn, 158, 169, 175 Cape San Francisco, 226 Cape Verde, meridian (St. Jago), 38, 269, 271, 335, 365, 372, 378 Capuchins, 245, 246, 250, 276 Capuel, Juan, S.J., 247, 375, 376 Caraffa, Vincenzo, S.J., 66, 181, plate 21 Carantouën (people), 292 Index
417
Carbone, Giovanni Battista, S.J., 24, 271 Carbonel de Valenzuela, Esteban, 98 Cárdenas, Lorenzo, S.J., 88 Cardiel, José, S.J., 14, 39, 40, 70, 72, 169, 178, 193–97, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 215, 216, 218, 221, 359, plate 18, plate 19, plate 20, plate 24, plate 27 Cardona, Nicolás de, 122 Carlos II of Spain, 103 Carmelites, 10, 226, 231, 245, 265 Carolinas (British), 83, 319 Carolinas (California), 100, 103, 125 Caroní River, 247 Carranco, Lorenzo, S.J., 49, 131, 349 Carrera, Juan de la, S.J., 83 Cartagena de Indias, 244, 245, 245 Carta padrão de el-Rei. See Padrão Real Cartier, Jacques, 30, 289, 290, 385 Casa da Índia, 29, 260 Casa de Contratación, 6, 29, 58, 64, 65, 76, 98, 260, 334 Casafuerte, Marquis de (viceroy), 112, 346 Casa Grande (Hohokam), 100, 101, 102, 108, 343–44 Casahuati (people), 172 Casas Grandes (presidio), 102, 108 Casiquiare canal, 21, 238, 250, 251, 252, 255, 377 Casot, Jean-Joseph, S.J., 323 Cassini, Giovanni Domenico, 269, 271 Castellanos, Pedro, S.J., 97 Castillo, Domingo del, 122, 345 Castillo, José del, S.J., 145 Castro, Chiloé (mission), 159, 164 Castro, Nicolas de, 153 Catholic Church, 46, 57, 222, 255, 269, 273, 293, 303 Catholicism, 17, 251, 360 Cavendish, Thomas, 122 Cayubabas (people), 152 Cayuga (people), 303 Cayuvavas (people), 147 Ceará (captaincy), 265, 380 celestial chart, 27 celestial globe, 27 Cerda, Tomás de la (viceroy), 98, 126 Cerro de San Eusebio, 125 Cerro de San Miguel, 125 Cerro Yaceguá, 197 Ceylon, 18 Chabanel, Noël, S.J., 301 Chacao, Chiloé (mission), 164 Chacao Channel, 156 418
In de x
Champlain, Samuel de, 32, 39, 291, 292, 292, 293–97, 303 Chaouanon (people), 312 Charles II of Spain, 125, 338, 363 Charles V of Holy Roman Empire, 65 Charlevoix, Pierre-François-Xavier de, S.J., 61, 178, 221, 321 Charrvas (people), 275 Charton, François, S.J., 386 Chaumonot, Pierre-Joseph-Marie, S.J., 296, 389 Chechehet (people), 172 Chequamegon Bay, 307 Chequamegon Peninsula, 304, 307 Chesapeake Bay, 83 Chicago, 310 Chicago Portage, 310 Chicago River, 312 Chicoutimi, Quebec (mission), 320 Chihuahua (state), 87 Chile, 18, 50, 53–56, 75, 136, 138, 141, 155–69 Chile (audiencia), 135 Chile, Kingdom of, 135, 156, 157 Chiloé, missions of, 164 Chiloé Archipelago, 156–57, 159, 162, 163, 164–66 Chimanos (people), 147 China, 4, 18, 19, 21, 27, 28, 33, 60, 63, 291, 296, 309, 334, 337 Chínapas (people), 92 Chiquitos (Chiquitania) (province), 142, 151, 192, 203, 208, 208, 213, 214, 215, 221, 363 Chiquitos (people), 136, 144, 147, 151, 183, 184, 186, 212 Chiquitos, missions of, 363 Chiribas (people), 147 Chiriguano (people), 136, 152, 206, 352, 362 Chocó (region), 237 Choleechel (people), 172 Chonos (people), 156, 172 Chonos Archipelago, 164, 165, 166 Chouart des Groseilliers, Médard, 304, 391 Christian Island, 295, 296, 299, 302, 287 chronometer, use by Jesuits, 37, 285 Chuluhauchet (people), 172 Chuquisaca ( Jesuit college), 142, 352 Cidechet (people), 172 Cigni, Domenico, 51, 238 Cigni, Giuilio Cesare, 238 Cintra, Jorge Pimentel, 5 City of the Caesars. See El Dorado Clavijero, Javier, S.J., 22, 61, 132, 253
Clavius, Christopher, S.J., 15, 27, 332 Clement XIV (pope), 68, 338 Cochabamba, 153, 353, 354 Cochabamba ( Jesuit college), 141, 147 Cochimíes (people), 126 Coclé, Jacques, S.J., 38, 267, 268, 269, 270, 281, 380 Cocomaricopas (people), 102 Coimbra ( Jesuit college), 14, 271 Colbert River (Mississippi), 313 Coldwater River, 294 Colima (state), 87 Cologne ( Jesuit college), 14 Colombia, 136, 222, 237, 244 Colonia del Sacramento, 184, 186 Colônia do Sacramento, 34, 58, 141, 173, 184, 186, 258, 273, 274, 275–77, 364, 379, 381 colonial cartography, 30, 31, 37, 121, 168, 169, 179, 179, 233, 239, 334 Colorado River (US/Mexico), 41, 94, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 106, 109, 120, 128, 131 Colpeches (people), 172 Combe, William, 175 Company of New France, 30, 290, 308 Company of One Hundred Associates, 30, 293, 303 compass, use by Jesuits, 28, 34, 35, 36, 42, 89, 99, 103, 123, 235, 285, 292, 301, 306 Concepción, 161 Conchos (people), 89 Confuso River, 181 Congo, Jesuits in, 18 Constitutions, of Jesuits, 10, 12 Cook, Edward, 61, 230 Copernicus, Nicolaus, 23, 332 Copiapó, 158 Coquimbo, 159 Coras (people), 115, 125, 131, 346 Córdoba, Argentina, 98, 356 Córdoba, Argentina ( Jesuit college), 180, 222, 359, 360, 362, 364, 365, 368 Coronelli, Vincenzo Maria, 64, 319 Corriente River, 195 Cortés, Hernán, 39, 101, 121, 347, 348 Corvo, meridian, 38, 39 Cosa, Juan de la, 260 Costa, Antônio Gilberto, 5 Costa, Rodrigo da, 267 Counter-Reformation, 9, 17, 67 Coutgin (people), 172 Cramoisy, Sébastien, 59, 337
Creole, Jesuits, 10, 12, 22, 71, 158, 159, 166, 241, 243, 253 Crouse, Nellis M., 5, 390 Cruillas, Joaquín Montserrat Marquis de, 118 Cruzados (people), 88 Cruz Cano y Olmedilla, Juan de la, 239 Cuba, 82, 83, 84, 86 Cuchivero River, 245 Cuenca, 223, 232, 236 Culiacán River, 114 Curralinho (mine), 273 Cusihuiriachic (mine), 93, 108 Cuyuni River, 252 Cuzco, 20, 147 Cuzco ( Jesuit college), 141 Dablon, Claude, S.J., 59, 304, 306, 307, 309, 315, 389, 390 Da Cunha, Luís (ambassador), 65, 281 Daniel, Antoine, S.J., 301 d’Anville, Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon, 6, 28, 60, 64, 65, 106, 107, 108, 177, 187, 216, 232, 233, 234, 252, 255, 280–83, 337, plate 23 Dávila, Juan Francisco, S.J., 14, 40, 60, 62, 65, 147, 183, 184, 185, 186–89, 195, 199, 201–3, 238, 279, 281, 364, plate 22, plate 23 Deer Nation, 296 Delanglez, Jean, S.J., 5 De Lasa, Luis I., 5 Delisle, Claude, 308, 317, 319, 393 Delisle, Guillaume, 64, 108, 208, 270, 280, 317, 381, 393 Delisle, Jean-Nicolas, 319 Denys de Saint-Simon, Paul, S.J., 313 Der Neue Welt-Bott, 60, 61, 65, 94, 103, 105, 106, 147, 184, 231 de Rossi, Giovanni Giacomo, 299 Descartes, René, 15, 23 Desceliers, Pierre, 290 Desliens, Nicolas, 290 De Smet, Pierre-Jean, S.J., 4 Des Moines River, 311 Des Plaines River, 312 Diamantina, 273 Dias, Camila Loureiro, 5 Díaz, Juan José, S.J., 109, 120, 344, 346, plate 6 Díaz Fajardo, Pablo, 247, 248 Diderot, Denis, 71, 135, plate 12 Didios (people), 125 Dietell, Christoph, 184, plate 22 Index
419
Dijon ( Jesuit college), 14 Dillingen ( Jesuit college), 14, 66 Dobrizhoffer, Martin, S.J., 14, 39, 41, 62, 71, 215, 216, 217, 218, 219, 221, 366, 369, 370 Dollier de Casson, François, 308 Dominicans, 10, 21, 79, 136, 222, 331, 338, 377 Dominus ac Redemptor, 2, 69 Door Peninsula, 307, 312 Douai ( Jesuit college), 14 Druillettes, Gabriel, S.J., 32, 304 Du Halde, Jean-Baptiste, S.J., 60, 65, 147, 357 Dulce River, 216 Duluth, MN, 307, 386, 393 Durango (state), 87, 89, 115 Dutch Brazil, 66, 261, 379 Dutch Republic, 66, 337 Duval, Pierre, 386 Eckart, Anselm Franz, S.J., 283, 284, 383 Ecuador, 222, 223, 242, 243, 244 Eder, František Xaver, S.J., 43, 152, 153, 154, 155, 354 Edúes (people), 125 Elcano, Juan Sebastián, 180 El Dorado, 241, 245, 249 El Paso, TX, 106, 107 El Pico de Cigueña, 125 El Sur (Baja California), 126–30 Enis, Tadeáš Xaver, S.J., 14, 40, 45, 198, 199, 286, 366, plate 25, plate 26 Enlightenment, 1, 12, 15, 23, 38, 72, 235, 237, 251, 253, 328 Ernot, Luis, S.J., 181 Escobar y Llamas, Cristóbal de, S.J., 131 Esgrecho, Felipe, S.J., 97 Espinosa, Balthazar de, S.J., 53, 143, 147, 353 Essequibo River, 252, 379 Ethiopia, Jesuits in, 19, 28 Eulie (people), 172 Évora ( Jesuit college), 14 Ewalt, Margaret, 5 Faenza, 241, 359, 369, 375 Falkland Islands. See Malvinas Falkner, Thomas, S.J., 40, 56, 57, 62, 166, 171, 173–75, 176–78, 360, 361 Fer, Nicolas de, 64, 248, 321, 343, 386 Ferdinand VI of Spain, 51, 286 Fernandéz de Abee, Juan Isidro, S.J., 93, 94, 342 Fernández de Oviedo, Gonzalo, 333 420
In de x
Ferreira, Miguel Vieira, 286 Ferro, meridian, 24, 38–40, 92, 150, 166, 175, 186, 187, 189, 193, 198, 202, 203, 208, 218, 221, 227, 235, 249, 253, 283, 285, 335, 336, 365 Feuillée, Louis, 169 Finé, Oronce, 260 Finger Lakes, 318 Flores de León, Diego, 160 Florida, 18, 79, 85, 81–86, 289, 339 Florida, missions of, 83–84 Florida Keys, 81–85, 85, 86 Fonseca, Joaquín Félix da, 24 Fonte, Juan de, S.J., 89 Fortaleza da Lage na Barra, 272 Fortaleza de Nostra Senhora da Conceição, 272 Fortaleza de São Sebastião, 272 Fortalezas de terra no morro de São João, 272 Fort Conti, 315 Fort Crevecoeur, 315 Forte de São Diogo, 272 Forte de Villeganhon, 272 Forte Príncipe da Beira, 150, 354 Fort Miami, 84 Fort Niagara, 318 Fort Orange (Albany), 299, 302 Fort Richelieu, 297, 299, 302 Fortunate Isles, 38 Fournier, Georges, S.J., 15 Fox River, 296, 307, 311, 314, 316, 389 France, 14, 15, 18, 24, 28, 35, 47, 58, 59, 64, 68, 226, 261, 266, 267, 277, 289, 290, 293, 294, 299, 308, 310, 312, 313, 319, 321, 323, 326, 327 France Antarctique, 259, 379 Franciscans, 10, 21, 69, 71, 79, 87, 89, 108, 110, 136, 141, 167, 195, 217, 222, 223, 224, 226, 227, 237, 245, 250, 256, 259, 265, 331, 338, 352, 377 François, Jean, S.J., 15 François I of France, 290 Franquelin, Jean-Baptiste-Louis, 314, 315, 317, 318, 319, 392 French Geodesic Mission, 232, 233, 243 French River, 297, 302 Frézier, Amédée-François, 169, 171, 359, 360 Fritz, Samuel, S.J., 14, 21, 41, 47, 48, 49, 55, 60, 61, 62, 224–25, 226, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 242, 235, 236, 237, 238, 246, 247, 281, 282, 371 Fronteras (presidio), 88, 108, 111 Fuerte River, 88 Furlong Cardiff, Guillermo, S.J., 4, 147, 179, 180, 207, 208, 221, 353, 366, 367
Furtado, Francisco Xavier de Mendonça, 285, 286, 383, 384 Furtado, Júnia Ferreira, 5, 12, 291, 337 Gagliano, Joseph A., 3 Galilei, Galileo, 23, 332 Gandía ( Jesuit college), 14 Ganière, Pierre, 52, 53, 145, 146 Garnier, Charles, S.J., 301 Garreau, Léonard, S.J., 301 Garriga, Antonio, S.J., 147, 183, 353 Gassendi, Pierre, 15 Gastaldi, Giacomo, 260 Gaubil, Antoine, S.J., 27 Gellibrand, Henry, 39 Gemes. See Jémez Genesee River, 318 Gens de Petun. See Petun geometry, by Jesuits, 15, 23, 27, 215 Georgian Bay, 291, 295, 302, 304, 386 Germany, 14, 43, 64, 98, 103, 161 Giants Tomb Island, 296 Giguchet (people), 172 Gila River, 100, 102, 103, 108, 109, 119 Gilg, Adam, S.J., 39, 41, 46, 55, 61, 93–94, 95, 96–98, 101, 107, 108, 120, 342 Gilii, Filippo Salvatore, S.J., 14, 40, 70, 250, 152, 253, 254, 255, 256, 377 gnomon, use by Jesuits, 35, 99 Goa, Jesuits in, 18 Godin, Louis, 232 Goiás, 263, 269, 280, 381 González, Manuel, S.J., 99 González, Silvestre, S.J., 21 González de Agueros, Pedro, 164, 357 González de Santalla, Tirso, S.J., 100 Goupil, René, S.J., 301 Gran Chaco, 40, 62, 71, 170, 183, 187, 188, 203, 205, 207, 214, 219, 220, 221, 222 Gran Pará (Ucayali), 228 Grão-Pará (state), 258 Graz, 60, 341, 348, 369, 374, 383 Graz ( Jesuit college), 89 Great Britain, 83, 86, 171, 244, 289, 319, 323, 364 Great Lakes, 5, 21, 41, 57, 59, 289, 290, 291, 292, 297, 298, 299–304, 305, 306–8, 309–17 Green Bay, WI, 296, 307, 310, 311, 312, 389 Greenwich, meridian, 38, 39, 268, 365, 378 Grimaldi, Francesco Maria, S.J., 26 Guadalajara, 89, 340, 346
Guadalajara, Tomás, S.J., 91 Guaitecas Archipelago, 166 Guanabara Bay, 272 Guaporé River, 142, 144, 147, 150, 151, 152, 153, 215 Guaraní (people), 136. 183, 189, 193, 197, 207, 216 Guaraní missions, 70, 169, 184, 189, 190, 193, 195, 196, 197–204, 208, 210, 215, 280 Guaraní War, 179, 197–201, 277, 280, 282, 286, 287, 365 Guarayos (people), 147 Guayaneco Island (Isla Wager), 165, 166 Guaycurú (people), 125, 181, 182 Guaymas (region of people), 100, 114, 343 Guaynamota (presidio), 115 Guayrá (region), 180, 195, 208, 362 Guazapares (people), 92 Guevara, Juan de, S.J., 32, 142, 144, 145, 352 Guiana, Dutch, 239, 244, 245, 247 Guiana, French, 245, 247, 264, 265–67, 380 Guianas, 246, 252, 372, 379, 383 Guikauusis (people), 172 Guillelmo, Juan José, S.J., 160 Gulf of California, 88, 97, 100, 102, 125, 128, 349 Gulf of Mexico, 21, 79, 289, 310, 311, 314, 318, 341, 392 Gulf of Saint Lawrence, 289, 290, 302, 319 Gumilla, José, S.J., 14, 40–42, 44, 45, 46, 62, 227, 238, 239, 247, 248, 249, 250–53, 255, 281, 283, 376 Gurupí River, 268 Gusmão, Alexandre de (diplomat), 281, 383, plate 37 Gutiérrez, Diego, 77, 78, 136 Habsburg monarchy, 14, 68, 71, 338, 343 Haddad Thomás, A. S., 3 Halley, Edmund, 38 Harley, John Brian, 1, 4, 5, 31 Harris, Steven, 2, 20 Havana, 83, 84, 86 Havana ( Jesuit college), 340 Havestadt, Bernhard, S.J., 14, 49, 50, 62, 71, 161, 162, 167, 356 Heidenreich, Conrad E., 5, 298, 385, 387 Hennepin, Louis, 313, 316 Henry IV of France, 226, 290, 307 Hernández, Pablo, 201, 367 Herrán, Jerónimo de, S.J, 183, 184, 187, 359, plate 23 Herrera y Tordesillas, Antonio de, 78, 137, 160, 338 Hervás, Francisco, S.J., 21 Hirocois (people), 292 Hirschko, Karl, S.J., 40, 150, 151, 353, plate 15 Hog Bay, 294 Index
421
Hojomes (people), 102 Hokkaido, 27 Holy Land, 9 Hondius, Henricus, 59, 181, 182 Hondius, Jodocus, 39 Horcasitas (presidio), 109 Huallaga River, 223, 237, 371 Huamanga ( Jesuit college), 141 Huancavelica ( Jesuit college), 141 Huancavelica (mine), 141 Huánuco, 228 Huásabas, Sonora (mission), 118 Hudson Bay, 289, 292, 304, 313, 319, 321, 327, 389 Hudson River, 308 Huennee, wife of Cangapol, 56, 177 Huichi (people), 172 Huicholes (people), 116 Huilliches (people), 156 Humboldt, Alexander von, 20, 135, 251, 373 Huret, Grégorie, 51 Huron, missions of, 294–96 Huronia (province), 24, 32, 38, 293–99 Hurons (people), 293, 295, 296, 297, 299, 307, 387 Ibarra ( Jesuit college), 223 Iberian Union, 65, 136, 224 Ibicuí River, 181, 197, 366 Ica ( Jesuit college), 141 Ignatian Tree, 10, 11 Ignatius Loyola, St., 9, 10, 13, 17, 20 Ihonatiria, Huron (mission), 295, 390 Île d’Orléans, Huron (mission), 302 Illinois (people), 307, 309, 311, 318, 389 Illinois Lake (Michigan), 306, 307, 310, 312 Illinois River, 296, 310, 312, 315, 318 Imperial, 157 imperial cartography, 326, 328, 334 Inchin (Ynche) Island, 166 India, 60, 75 Indian Ocean, 18, 28 Ingolstadt ( Jesuit college), 14, 98, 343, 348, 380 Innocent X (pope), 160 Innsbruck ( Jesuit college), 14, 343 Irondequoit Bay, 318 Iroquois (people), 297, 299–303, 308, 317–19, 397 Iroquois country, 32, 291, 297, 299–303, 308, 309, 317–19, plate 45 Isabella I of Castile, 29 Isla Angel de la Guarda, 107, 128, 131 Isla Cedros, 129 422
In de x
Isla Consag, 128, 349 Isla de la Presentación, 106 Isla de San Augustín, 107 Isla de San Juan Nepomuceno, 127, 130 Isla Espíritu Santo, 127 Isla Magdalena, 129 Isla Santa Margarita, 129 Islas de Anican, 171 Islas de los Reyes, 171 Isla Wager, 165 Isle de Sainte Marie, 299 Isle Royal, 307 Italy, 13, 14, 51, 158, 161, 201, 203, 207, 215, 240, 253, 299, 300 Itamarra, Francisco, 101 Itarugua (Dayman) River, 196 Iténez River, 147 Itonomas River, 147 Jaillot, Alexis-Hubert, 299 Jalisco (state), 87 James Bay, 313 Janos (people), 102 Janos (presidio), 108 Janssonius, Jan, 110 Japan, 18, 19, 27 Jémez, 107 Jequitinhonha River, 272 Jesuit colleges. See names of individual cities Jesuit landholdings, mapping of, 70, 193, 195, 196, 197, 201, 202, 203, 204, 209 Jesuit Relations, The, 59, 147, 304, 310 Jesuit reports (general), 6, 12, 17, 23, 32, 40, 47, 58, 59, 60, 61, 64, 65, 67, 112, 116, 172, 173, 227, 281, 315 Jesús María (presidio), 115 Jiménez, Bartolomé, S.J, 21 João III of Portugal, 257 João IV of Portugal, 224 João V of Portugal, 270, 271, 281, 381, 383 Jogues, Isaac, S.J., 299, 301, 308, 388, 390 Jolís, José, S.J., 207, 219, 220, 221, 222, 368, 370 Jolliet, Louis, 309–16 José I of Portugal, 282, 384 Joseph II (Habsburg emperor), 68 Juan y Santacilia, Jorge, 131, 232 Juli, Moxos (mission), 137, 141, 355, 363 Kakinonha (people), 312 Kansa (people), 312
Kappus, Marcus, S.J., 97, 103 Kaulen, Lorenz Wilhelm, S.J., 282, 283, 284, 383 Keller, Franz, S.J., 60 Kennebec River, 297 Kepler, Johannes, 23, 335 Keweenav Peninsula, 307 Key West, 84 Kilistinons (people), 313 Kino, Eusebio Francisco, S.J., 4, 14, 23, 35, 41, 42, 46, 47, 60, 61, 65–67, 71, 80, 86, 89, 93–94, 105, 106, 107, 110, 114, 117, 119–21, 124, 130–32, 133, 343, plate 4, plate 5, plate 6, plate 10, plate 12 Kircher, Athanasius, S.J., 10, 11, 20, 23, 28, 138, 139, 140, 351, plate 13 Kitchin, Thomas, 56, 57, 176 Koenig, Juan Ramón, S.J., 139, 143, 351, plate 14 Kögler, Ignatius, S.J., 27, 334 Konščak, Ferdinand, S.J., 21, 41, 42, 47, 49, 56, 71, 107, 123, 126–35, 129, 130, 132, 133, 134, 332, 348, 349, 350, plate 11, plate 12 Korea, 27, 28 Kupfer, Carl, 6 Lac des Assinibouels, 313 Lac des Christinaux (Kilistinons), 313 La Condamine, Charles Marie de, 21, 25, 38, 47, 226, 232, 233, 235, 237–40, 251, 252, 255, 281, 282 Laet, Johannes de, 160, 246, 375 La Fléche ( Jesuit college), 14, 15, 390 Lagoa dos Patos, 277, 279 Lagoa Mirim, 279 Lago di Porongo (Lake Mar Chiquita), 221 Laguna (city), 278 Laguna, Felipe de la, S.J., 160 Laguna de los Padres, 174, 360 Laguna de San Salvador, 125 Laguna de Santa Bárbara, 125 Lagunas del Valle, 86 Laínez, Diego, S.J, 13 Lake Champlain, 291, 297, 308 Lake Erie, 297, 318 Lake George, 297, 308 Lake Huron, 291, 294, 296, 297, 299, 304, 306, 307, 387, 390 Lake Manitoba, 313 Lake Michigan, 296, 297, 298, 304, 307, 310, 311, 312, 314, 315, 387, 388 Lake Mistassini, 320 Lake Nipigon, 307, 313 Lake Nipissing, 291, 292, 297, 302, 385
Lake of Saint Louis. See Lake Ontario Lake Oneida, 318 Lake Ontario, 291, 295, 297, 306, 308, 318 Lake Parime, 249, 252, 255, 372 Lake Piékouagami. See Lake Saint-Jean Lake Saint-Jean, 320, 321 Lake Saint John, 320 Lake Simcoe, 292, 294, 295, 297, 318 Lake Superior, 297, 304–7, 310–11, 313, 317, 386, 389 Lake Titicaca, 20, 139 Lake Tracy (Lake Superior), 305, 390 Lake Winnebago, 307, 311, 314 Lake Winnipeg, 313 Lake Winnipegosis, 313 Lake Xarayes, 21, 150, 184, 192, 208, 212, 216s Lake Zumpango, 86 La Laguna, 230 Lalande, Jean de, S.J., 299, 301 Lalemant, Charles, S.J., 293, 294, 386, 387 Lalemant, Gabriel, S.J., 51, 301, 387 Lalemant, Jérôme, S.J., 14, 38, 293, 294, 295, 298, 386, 387, plate 39 La Mesa del Tonati, Nayarit, 115 La Paz, Baja California, 123, 124, 125–27, 130–31, 345, 348, 349, plate 11 La Paz, Peru, 20, 142, 147 La Paz, Peru ( Jesuit college), 141 Lapland, 25 La Plata de los Charcas (audiencia), 135, 136, 137, 155, 179, 350, 368 La Prairie de la Magdeleine, Great Lakes (mission), 317 La Salina (islet), 124, 127 La Salle, René-Robert Cavelier de, 315, 316–19, 392 Las Bocas, 92 La Sierra Giganta, 125 Las Tres Virgenes (volcano), 128 La Trinite (portage), 321 Laure, Pierre-Michel, S.J., 32, 38, 68, 320, 321, 322, 394, plate 46, plate 47 Lebú, Chile (fort), 157 Le Gobien, Charles, S.J., 60 Leibnitz, Gottfried Wilhelm, 15 Leite, Serafim, S.J., 5, 282, 283 Le Jeune, Paul, S.J., 32, 296, 297, 387, 388 Lencastre, João de, 267 Lenguas (people), 206 León, Gregorio de, 158, 160, 356 Les Cheueux releuez (people), 292 Index
423
Lettres édifiantes et curieuses, 41, 59, 60, 65, 103, 147, 187, 230, 231, 337 Leuven ( Jesuit college), 14 Lewis, Thomas, 175 Liège ( Jesuit college), 14 Liesganig, Joseph, S.J., 26 Liguera Antayo, Juan de, 84 Lima, 6, 20, 43, 135, 136, 137, 139, 141, 351, 352, 353, 362 Lima (audiencia), 135, 136, 226 Lima ( Jesuit college), 139, 141, 325, 363, 373 Linares, Pedro, S.J., 83 Linck, Wenceslaus, S.J., 109, 131, 332, 350 Lisbon, 3, 6, 24, 29, 78, 240, 258, 260, 267, 281, 333 Lisbon ( Jesuit college), 14, 271 Lisbon, meridian, 225 Litterae Annuae, 59, 60, 336 Llanos de Caracas, 245 Llanos de Casanare, 245, 252 Locke, John, 15 López de Velasco, Juan, S.J., 65, 78, 79, 136, 137 Lorenzana, Francisco Antonio de, 122, 345, 348 Loreto, Baja California, 103, 106, 114, 126, 127, 128, 130, 145 Los Frailes (mine), 108, 114 Los Martires, 84 Louis XIII of France, 39 Louis XIV of France, 64, 303, 316, 363, 391 Louis XV of France, 321, 388 Louisiana, 108, 312, 316, 319, 393 Low Countries, 14, 39, 65, 66, 266, 337, 379 Loyola of Spain, Marcus, S.J., 97 Lozano, Pedro, S.J., 61, 187, 188, 231, 359, 365 Luiquia (people), 172 Luiz, María Teresa, 5 Lyon ( Jesuit college), 14 Lyus (people), 172 Mabre-Cramoisy, Sébastien, 59 Macerata ( Jesuit college), 13 Machoni, Antonio, S.J., 14, 40, 60, 62, 65, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 195, 199, 201, 203, 238, 279, 281, 337, 364, plate 23 Madeira River, 150, 265 Madre de Dios River, 142, 150, 151 Madrid, 3, 6, 60, 75, 131, 145, 257 Madrid ( Jesuit college), 103 Magalhães, Sebastiào de, S.J., 267 Magdalena River (Mexico), 102 Maggiolo, Visconte, 289, 385 424
In de x
Magnin, Jean, S.J., 14, 40, 235, 236, 237, 239, 240, 281, 373 Maire, Christopher, S.J., 25, 334 Makó, Pál, 43, 154, 155, 355 Maldonado Bay, 276, 361 Maldonado y Flores, Pedro Vicente, 233, 234, 235, 236, 239, 240, 243, 373 Malebranche, Nicolas, 15 Malvinas, 171, 359 Mamoré River, 142, 144, 145, 146, 147, 150, 151, 152, 153 Mamoueta (people), 312 Manhattan (Dutch fort), 302 Manila galleons, 126, 130, 358 Manitoulin Island, 299, 306, 307 Manitoumie (map), 314, 315, 391, plate 43 Manje, Juan Mateo, 41, 99, 128, 348 Mantua ( Jesuit college), 13 Mapa das Cortes, 193, 194, 280, 281, 282, 383, 365, plate 37 Mapuche (territory), 157, 159, 160 Mapuches (people), 53, 156, 157, 159, 355 Mapuche uprising, 156, 157, 160 Maracaibo, 245, 246 Marajó Island, 265, 285 Maranhão (captaincy), 258, 265 Maranhão ( Jesuit province), 259, 266, 383 Maranhão (state), 258, 280, 268 Marañón ( Jesuit province), 223, 240, 282 Marcgrave, Georg, 66, 261, 379 Maria Theresa (empress), 68, 70, 71, 286, 369 Mariuá, 285 Marna (people), 312 Maroa (people), 312 Marora (people), 312 Marquette, Jacques, S.J., 14, 21, 32, 41, 57, 59, 61, 304, 305, 306–14, 315, 316, 317, 319, 389, 390, plate 42, plate 43 Martínez, Enrico, 86, 87, 341 Martínez, Pedro, S.J., 82, 340 Mascardi, Nicoló, S.J., 23, 160 Mascouten (Fire Nation) (people), 296, 307, 311, 389 Massé, Énemond, S.J., 386 Matahali (people), 312 Matchedash Bay, 294 Mato Grosso, 152, 192, 198, 212, 215, 263, 280 Mattawa River, 302 Maule River, 161 Maupertuis, Pierre-Louis Moreau de, 25
Mayer, Michael, S.J., 162, 357 Maynas (people), 223, 224, 226, 235–37, 240 Mayo uprising, 113 Mazaruni River, 252 Mbaéverá (people), 215, 218, 219, 370 Mbayá (people), 183, 206, 208, 363, 368, 369 Medoza, 161, 180 Medoza ( Jesuit college), 180 Ménard, René, S.J., 304, 313 Méndez, Peter, S.J., 87 Mendonça, Martinho de, 273 Mendoza, Juan Antonio de (governor), 119 Menéndez de Avilés, Pedro (governor), 82 Menominee River, 312 Mercator, Gerardus, 39, 67, 272, 290 Mercedarians, 136, 222, 265 meridian of. See names of starting points Messina ( Jesuit college), 13 Meta River, 245, 252, 255, 377 Metchigamea (people), 312 Mexico, 18, 20, 22, 62, 64–65, 75, 79, 83, 86–135 Mexico City, 6, 81, 86, 88, 101, 126, 131 Miami (people), 307 Miami River, 83 Michallet, Estienne, 61, 310, 315 Michilimackinac, 296, 304 Middendorff, Bernhard, S.J., 39, 47, 48, 56, 117, 118, 119, 120, 21, 347 Midland Bay, 294 military cartography, 33, 34, 57, 80, 127, 198, 263, 282, 287, 327 Milwaukee River, 312 Minas de Ouro (captaincy), 259, 270 Minas Gerais, 38, 258, 259, 263, 267–73, 276, 277, 280 Ming Dynasty, 27 Minnanet (people), 275 Mississippi, 5, 6, 21, 61, 83, 289, 296, 307, 308–14, 315, 316–18, 327, 338, 389, 391, 393, plate 42, plate 43, plate 44 Missouri River, 311, 312, 314 Mizque, 147 Mocatona (people), 144, 353 Mocobíes (people), 183, 206, 215, 369 Mocoretá River, 209, 211 Mogis (people), 126 Mohawk (people), 297, 299, 390 Moïngouena (people), 312 Molina, Juan Ignacio, S.J., 14, 40, 62, 71, 166, 167, 168, 253, 358 Mónaco, José María, S.J., 84, 86
Monasterio y Azua, Antonio, 153, 354 Monsoupelea (village), 312 Montagnais (people), 32, 302, 317, 320, 321 Monterrey de la Frontera, Chile (fort), 157 Montevideo, 186, 192, 274, 277, 370 Montreal, 297, 302, 310, 319, 392, 393 Montserrat, Antonio de, S.J., 28 Moquegua ( Jesuit college), 141 Moqui (people), 102 Morelia, 86, 101 Moreno Jeria, Rodrigo, 5 Morin, Pierre-Louis, 308 Morona River, 235 Morville, La Guer de, 320 Moscarito River, 88 Moullard, Pierre, 299 Mount Desert Island, 302 Movimas (people), 147, 152, 353 Moxos ( Jesuit province), 32, 43, 44, 51, 53, 60, 138, 141–42, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150–52, 153, 154–55, plate 15, plate 16 Moxos (people), 136, 141–55 Moxos, missions of, 145–46, 352 Mud Lake, 312 Munich ( Jesuit college), 13, 14 Muñoz de Burgos, Juan, S.J., 97 Munster, Sebastian, 260 Muré (people), 144, 353 Nacimiento, Chile (fort), 157 Nacozari (mine), 108, 111 Nahuel Huapi Lake, 156, 160 Nanay River, 237 Nandouessi [Sioux] (people), 307 Naples ( Jesuit college), 13 Napo River, 223, 224, 225, 228, 236, 237, 265 Narváez, José María, 340 Narváez, Juan de, 47, 229 Narváez, Pánfilo, 339 Nascimben, Pedro Maria, 41, 42, 49, 61, 128, 129, 131, 133 Nation Neutre. See Neutral Nation navigational handbook, use by Jesuit, 35, 99, 123 Nayarit (province), 87, 109, 110, 112, 115–17 Nayarit, missions of, 115, 117 Ñeembucú (wetland), 189 Nelson River, 313 Nentwig, Juan, S.J., 39, 47, 48, 56, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 346, 347 Neumann, Johann, S.J., 21, 342 Index
425
Neutral Nation (people), 296, 297, 385, 387 New Belgium, 302 New Brunswick, 289, 386 New England, 302 Newfoundland, 289, 290, 302, 319 New France, 5, 6, 18, 21, 30, 32, 38, 46, 51, 52, 56, 57, 59, 61, 64, 68, 108, 113, 289–325 New Granada, 18, 40, 42, 44, 46, 62, 75, 79, 135, 222, 227, 238–45, 246, 247, 248, 249, 250–57, 283 New Mexico, 87, 88, 101, 106, 108, 112, 120, 121 New Orleans, 289, 393 New Spain, 18, 21, 22, 33, 39, 42, 56, 61, 62, 63, 75, 76, 78, 79–81, 86, 101, 106, 108, 109–21 New Sweden, 302 Newton, Isaac, 25 New York, 302 New York (state), 318 Niagara Falls, 315, 387 Nicolet, Jean, 292, 296 Nicolet River, 297 Nile, Jesuits on, 28 Nóbrega, Manuel da, S.J., 259 Noes (people), 125 Nolin, Jean Baptiste, 64, 319 Nombre de Dios, Florida (mission), 83 Noort, Olivier van, 122 Northwest Passage, 21, 33, 289, 290, 296, 309 Nossa Senhora da Conceição (fort), 151 Nouë, Anne de la, S.J., 301 Nova Scotia, 289, 319, 393 Novo Atlas da América Portuguesa, 5, 58, 271, 333 Nuestra Señora de Belén, Chiquitos (mission), 207–9, 212, 213 Nuestra Señora de la Concepción, Serrano (mission), 171, 172, 178 Nuestra Señora de los Desamparados, Serrano (mission), 173, 216 Nuestra Señora del Pilar, Serrano (mission), 171, 172, 179 Nueva Galicia, 87 Nueva Navarra (also Navara), 64, 65, 106, 108 Nueva Vizcaya, 87, 88 Nusdorffer, Bernhardt, S.J., 196, 197, 366 Oaxaca ( Jesuit college), 86, 340 observatory, by Jesuits, 25, 26, 27, 209, 271 Ochagé (people), 312 O’Crouley, Pedro Alonso, 350 Odawa (people), 296 Ohio River, 308, 312, 315, 317 426
In de x
Olinda ( Jesuit college), 259 Olivares y Centeno, Joaquín de, 170 Omagua (people), 223, 224, 225, 228, 230, 371 O’Malley, John W., S.J., 3 Onahare, Joseph, S.J., 301 Oneida (people), 303 Onondaga (people), 303, 389 Ontario (state), 294, 299 Opas (people), 102 Opodepe (mine), 97 Orinoco, 21, 40, 42, 44, 45, 62, 70, 136, 226, 238, 239, 244, 145, 246, 247, 248, 249, 250–56, 266, 285, plate 31 Ortega, Francisco de, 98 Ortega, José de, S.J., 115 Ortelius, Abraham, 27, 65, 136, 261, 335 Ortiz Bank, 275 Ortiz de Zarate, Pedro, S.J., 364 Oruro ( Jesuit college), 141 Osório, Gaspar, S.J., 364 Osorno, 157 Oswego River, 318 Otontanta (people), 312 Ottawa, 319 Ottawa (people), 294, 304 Ouabouskigou River (Ohio), 312 Ouemessourit (people), 312 Outchiouanish, Marie, wife of Pelletier, 320 Ovalle, Alonso de, S.J., 14, 53, 54, 56, 62, 139, 158, 159, 160, 161, 166, 169, 173, 356 Pacific Ocean, 18, 21, 86, 103, 123, 216, 310, 341, 285 Paderborn ( Jesuit college), 14 Padrão Real, 30, 260 Padrón Real, 29, 260 Pagan, Blaise François, 21, 227, 333 Pahoutet (people), 312 Paicavi, Chile (fort), 157 Pais, José da Silva, 379 Palacios, Juan de, 223 Palermo ( Jesuit college), 13 Palomino, José, S.J., 14, 39, 114, 345, 346, plate 9 Pampas (people), 169, 170, 172 Pamplona, 9 Pana (people), 312 Paniassa (people), 312 Panigay, Bartolomeo, S.J., 193, 282 Pantanal, 21, 150, 212, 216 pantograph, use by Jesuits, 28, 29 Papal States, 25, 68, 70, 334
Papigochic River, 92 Papikaha (people), 312 Pará. See Belém do Pará Paraguaçu River, 269 Paraguay ( Jesuit province), 20, 24, 25, 39–41, 46, 50, 59, 60–62, 65, 66, 70, 71, 75, 136, 139, 147, 156, 158, 159, 169, 170, 177, 178–81, 182, 183–84, 185, 186–90, 191, 192–99, 200, 201–17, 218, 219–22, 241, 279, 282, plate 14, plate 21, plate 22, plate 23, plate 24, plate 25, plate 26, plate 27 Paraguay, missions of, 180–81, 362–63 Paraguay River, 21, 138, 181, 183, 184, 189, 192, 195, 206, 207, 212, 213, 216, 221 Paraíba do Sul, 278 Paraná River, 138, 139, 180, 183, 189, 195, 199, 206, 207, 216, 218, 219, 221, 241, 275, 279, 282 Paraty, 270 Parcar, Peter, 43, 241, 242, 374 Pardies, Ignace-Gaston, S.J., 27 Paris, 6, 9, 52, 58–60, 63, 64, 103, 106, 108, 135, 221, 230, 233, 301, 303, 312, 313, 314, 321, 336, 337, 386, 389 Paris ( Jesuit college), 9, 14, 15, 301, 390 Paris, meridian, 24, 38, 39, 238, 240, 271, 335 Parma ( Jesuit college), 13 Parral, 89, 92, 93 Pastaza River, 223, 236, 370 Patagonia, 157, 159, 160, 164, 166, 169–75, 176, 177– 78, 206, 278, plate 17, plate 18, plate 19, plate 20 Patiño, Gabriel, S.J., 183 Patzcuaro ( Jesuit residency), 86 Paucke, Florián, S.J., 215, 219, 363, 366, 370 Paul III (pope), 10 Pecos River, 106 Pedro II of Portugal, 266 Pedrosa y Guerrero, Antonio de la (viceroy), 247 Pehuenches (people), 172, 174 Pekitanoui (Missouri), 311, 312 Pelechucho, 147 Pelletier (Peltier), Nicolas, 320 pendulum clock, use by Jesuits, 24, 28 Penetang Peninsula, 294, 296 Penobscot (people), 386 Penobscot Bay, 386 Peoria, 318 Pérez, Martin, S.J., 87 Pericú (people), 126 Pericú uprising, 126, 127 Pernambuco, 66, 258, 261, 263 Pernambuco (captaincy), 258
Pernambuco ( Jesuit college), 259 Pernety, Antoine-Joseph, 177, 361 Perret, Jodocus, S.J., 266, 380 Peru, 18, 20, 65, 82, 135–36, 137, 138, 139, 140–43, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 153, 154, 222, 238 Peru (viceroyalty), 18, 40, 75, 135–41, 251, 254, 255, 328 Petroschi, Giovanni, 50, 51, 62, 63, 184, 185, 187, 238, 339, 364, 365, 374, plate 28 Petun (people), 296, 297, 295, 296 Pfefferkorn, Ignacio, S.J., 61, 135 Pfeil, Alois, S.J., 23, 266, 267, 380 Philip II of Spain, 75, 76, 78, 136, 258 Philip IV of Spain, 160 Philip V of Spain, 47, 49, 64, 103, 229, 230 Philippines, 27, 28, 79, 121, 169, 358 Piauí, 269, 378 Píccolo, Francesco Maria, S.J., 93, 103 Pichilingue Bay, 130, 349 Pilcomayo River, 20, 181, 183, 203 Pimas (people), 47, 98, 342 Pima uprising, 48, 100, 117, 118, 120, 121 Pimería, 46, 79, 94, 95, 98, 99, 100, 102, 106, 109, 113, 118, 119, 120, 126, plate 3, plate 4, plate 5, plate 6, plate 7, plate 8 Pinacate, 100 Pincetti, Bartolomeo, S.J., 282 pinturas, 32, 78, 86 Píritu region, 245 Pisco ( Jesuit college), 141 Pitic (presidio), 109, 118, 120 Pizarro, Francisco, 170 Plancius, 39 plane table, 285 Plautus, 215 Poitiers ( Jesuit college), 14 Pombal, Marquês de, 286, 383 Ponce de León, Juan, 82, 84, 339 Popayán ( Jesuit college), 223 Port Royal, 290, 302, 386 Porto ( Jesuit college), 14 Portugal, 14, 17, 18, 24, 58, 67–68, 141, 150, 153, 179, 193, 195, 197, 206, 223–24, 237, 240, 257, 259–161, 263, 265–68, 270, 271, 275, 276, 280, 281, 286, 326 post-suppression cartography, 2, 22, 61, 62, 67, 73, 201–22, 240–44, 251, 254, 255, 328 Potawatomi (people), 311, 389 Potosí ( Jesuit college), 141 Potosí (mines), 136, 141 Poyas (people), 156, 160, 172, 174 Index
427
Praia, 269, 381 Prieto, Andrés I., 3 Probst, Peter, S.J., 60 Protestantism, 9 Prouville de Tracy, Alexandre de Marquis, 305, 317 Provisional Treaty (Tradato Provisional), 141, 267, 380 Ptolemy, Claudius, 14, 30, 38, 260 Puants (Michigan), 296, 297, 307, 314, 388 Puebla ( Jesuit residency), 86, 346, 350 Puelches (people), 156, 160, 172, 174, 360 Puerco River, 106 Puerto de Año Nuevo, 103 Puerto Deseado, 171, 361 Puerto San Julián, 169, 171, 173, 356, 361 Purus River, 239 Putumayo River, 223, 236, 237, 241, 243 Qing Dynasty, 27 quadrant, 24, 35, 285, 301, 306 Quapaw (people), 310 Quaray River, 196 Quebec, 24, 38, 290, 299, 301, 304, 323, 386 Quebec City, 58, 290, 302, 310, 317, 317, 319, 320, 387, 388 Queber ( Jesuit college), 319 Queen Anne’s War, 319 Queguay River, 196 Queiyus (people), 172 Quen, Jean de, S.J., 302, 320 Queyuhues (people), 172 Quintero, 159 Quiroga, José, S.J., 14, 23, 24, 32, 39, 40, 50, 61, 62, 72, 169–74, 178, 189, 191, 192, 193, 208, 216, 218, 281, 359, plate 17 Quisuchet (people), 172 Quito (audiencia), 135, 136, 137, 226 Quito (city), 6, 47, 62, 175, 229, 232, 236 Quito ( Jesuit college), 223 Quito ( Jesuit province), 18, 38, 40, 43, 49, 50, 51, 71, 141, 222–44, plate 28, plate 29, plate 30 Quito, Kingdom of, 242 Quito, meridian, 232, 243 Raches (people), 144, 147 Racine River, 312 Radisson, Pierre-Esprit, 304, 391 Raffeix, Pierre, S.J., 14, 316–19, 392, 393, plate 44, plate 45
428
In de x
Ragueneau, Paul, S.J., 297, 298, 387, 388 Ráhum, 114 Raleigh, Walter, 245, 372, 375 Ramanos (people), 147 Ramirez, Gerónimo, S.J., 89 Rapides des Peres, 289 Ratio Studiorum, 14, 332 Rattkay, Ivan, S.J., 14, 23, 45, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 98, 101, 341, 342 Rechberg, Karl, S.J., 25, 62, 189, 190, 365 Recife, 66, 261 Recollects, 10, 293, 294, 317, 323, 377, 393 Reims ( Jesuit college), 14 Relation de ce qui s’est passé, 59, 305, 306, 389 Rémy de Courcelle, Daniel de (governor), 317 Renard River. See Fox River Renger, Friedrich Ewald, 5 Rensselaerwijk. See Ronsellaria Requena y Herrera, Francisco, 239, 240, 243, plate 29 Retz, Francisco, S.J., 184, 350 Ricci, Matteo, S.J., 4, 27 Riccioli, Giovanni Battista, S.J., 15, 24, 26, 28, 35, 99 Richelieu River, 297, 302, 308 Rimini, 25 Río Acaponeto, 116 Río Atengo, 116 Río Azul, 101, 106 Riobamba ( Jesuit college), 223 Río Barrancas, 173, 178 Río Casanare, 245, 247, 375, 376 Río Chico, 108 Río Colorado (Patagonia), 171, 173, 174, 178 Río Colorado de los Mártyres (Mexico), 106 Río Comondú, 129 Rio das Peste or Guarapiranga, 270 Rio das Velhas, 269, 270 Rio de Conta, 269 Rio de Janeiro, 6, 212, 258, 259, 269, 271, 274, 277, 278, 365, 379 Rio de Janeiro (captaincy), 258, 277 Rio de Janeiro (governorate), 258 Rio de Janeiro ( Jesuit college), 259, 271, 380 Rio de Janeiro (meridian), 24, 38, 40, 271, 272, 278, 265, 382 Río de la Plata, 57, 136, 171–75, 180, 184, 186–87, 192, 260, 273–74, 275, 276, 277–78 Río de la Plata (viceroyalty), 136 Río de La Purísima, 129
Río de los Cruzados Gentiles, 88 Río del Sauce, 171, 172, 173, 174 Río del Tizón, 101, 102 Río de Mayo, 88, 113, 114 Río Desaguadero, 160 Río de San Cristóbal, 125 Río de San Miguel de Horcasitas, 96, 120 Río de Santa María Madalena, 125 Río de Santo Tomás, 103, 126 Río Deseado, 160 Rio de Vicente Pinzón, 267 Rio do Ouro (Río del Oro), 223 Río Gallegos, 170, 171 Río Grande (Bolivia), 142, 153 Río Grande (US/Mexico), 88, 106 Río Grande del Coral, 101, 102 Río Grande del Norte. See Río Grande (US/ Mexico) Río Grande de los Apóstoles (Gila River), 106 Río Grande de Santiago, 116 Rio Grande do Sul, 40, 181, 198, 199, 203, 258, 277– 80 Rio Gualachos, 270 Río Guapay, 142, 144 Río Madiera, 150 Río Magdalena, 252 Río Manu. See Beni River Río Marañón, 47, 49, 150, 223, 228, 235, 236, 237, 370 Río Moctezuma, 108, 214 Rio Negro (Brazil), 21, 224, 225, 229, 238, 250, 251, 252, 255, 264, 265, 285 Río Negro (Patagonia), 173, 174, 178 Río Negro (Uruguay), 196, 197 Rio Oyapock (Oiapoque), 174, 223, 267, 364, 372 Rio Paraopeba, 270 Río Salado, 171, 172, 173, 174, 360 Rio Salado de Apaches. See Pecos River Río San Ignacio, 129 Río San Javier, 129 Río San José de Terrenate, 101, 106 Río San Migel. See Río Comondú Río San Pedro, 129 Río Santa Cruz, 160, 173 Rio São Francisco, 269 Rio Solimões, 265 Río Sonaca o de Hila. See Gila River Río Toltén, 156 Ripari, Antonio, S.J., 181, 362, 364 Rivadeneira, Pedro Juan de, S.J., 180
Rivera y Villalón, Pedro de, 81, 112, 113, 346 Robert de Vaugondy, 108, 135, plate 12 Rochester, NY, 318 Rocky Mountains, 289 Rogel, Juan, S.J., 82, 83 Rojas, Antonio de, S.J., 97, 342 Román, Manuel, S.J., 21, 238, 251, 252, 376, 377 Rome, 2, 6, 12, 25, 58, 62, 102, 103, 138, 158, 184, 189, 216, 238, 253 Rome ( Jesuit college), 13 Romero, Alberto, S.J., 364 Romero, Juan, S.J., 180, 361 Romero, Juan José, S.J., 247 Ronan, Charles E., S.J., 3 Ronsellaria (Rensselaerwijk), 302 Rosales, Diego de, S.J., 157, 160, 356 Rotalde, Francisco de, S.J., 51, 145 Rotella, Bernardo, S.J., 14, 45, 252, 255, 377, plate 31 Rouen ( Jesuit college), 14, 387, 390 Rubí, Marques de, 81 Ruiz de Montoya, Antonio, S.J., 181, 362 Ruscelli, Girolamo, 260 Ryukyu Islands, 27 Saa, Constantino de, 39 Sá e Faria, José Custódio de, 287, 385 Saeta, Francisco Xavier, S.J., 100, 102, plate 4, plate 5 Saginaw Bay, 297 Saguenay River, 61, 320–21, 322, 394, plate 46 Sainte Marie, Huron (mission), 294, 295, 302, 387 Sainte Marie II, Huron (mission), 295, 299 Sainte Marie de Gannentaha, Iroquois (mission), 302 Saint Esprit, Great Lakes (mission), 304–7, 309, 311, 313 Saint Francis Xavier, Great Lakes (mission), 305, 306, 307 Saint Ignace, Great Lakes (mission), 304, 305, 306, 307 Saint Ignace Island, 307 Saint Lawrence River, 289–91, 296–97, 302, 308, 320–21, 386, 394 Saint Maurice River, 297 Saint Simon, Great Lakes (mission), 305, 306 Sainz Ollero, Héctor, 207 Salamanca ( Jesuit college), 9, 14, 351 Salaupin (people), 172 Salto Grande, 195 Salvador da Bahia, 258, 259, 267 Index
429
Salvador da Bahia ( Jesuit college), 259 Salvatierra, Juan María, S.J., 103, 126 San Antonio de Carlos, Florida (mission), 83 San Bruno, Baja California (mission and fort), 98, 123, 125, 345 Sánchez Baquero, Juan, S.J., 86, 87, 340 Sánchez Labrador, José, S.J., 14, 24, 40, 70, 72, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 215–18, 221, 289, 368 San Cosme y San Damián, Paraguay (mission), 24, 25, 192, 208, 209, 359 San Cristóbal River, 86 Sandoval, Pedro de, S.J., 97 San Estanislao, Chiquitos (mission), 209, 363 San Felipe, 106 San Felipe y Santiago (presidio), 113 San Fernando de Abipones, Paraguay (mission), 215 San Ignacio (presidio), 117 San Ignacio de Cabórica, Sonora (mission), 98, 109 San Jean (portage), 321 San Jeronimo, Chile (fort), 157 San Jerónimo de Abipones, Paraguay (mission), 215 San Joaquín de Omagua, Quito (mission), 223 San Luis Gonzaga, Orinoco (mission), 253 San Luis Potosí ( Jesuit college), 339, 342, 346 San Martín, Sebastián de, S.J., 173, 174 San Pedro de Ixcatlán, 115 San Pedro de la Paz, Chile (fort), 157 San Pedro River (Mexico), 100, 101, 102, 106 San Pedro y San Pablo de Guasave, Sinaloa (mission), 114 San Pedro y San Pablo del Tubutama, Sonora (mission), 97, 98, 117, 118 Sanson, Nicolas, 38, 64, 89, 90, 139, 173, 227, 228, 293, 298, 299, 301, 302 Santa Barbara (mine), 87 Santa Catarina (region), 40, 268, 273, 277–78, plate 33, plate 35 Santa Catarina Island, 278 Santa Cruz, Alonso de, 76, 76, 78, 338, 340 Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Moxos (mission), 141, 142, 189, 206, 352 Santa Fe, Argentina, 25, 161, 180, 252, 259 Santa Fe, Argentina ( Jesuit college), 365 Santa Fe de Bogotá, 135, 136, 224 Santa Fe de Bogotá (audiencia), 135, 226 Santa Gertrudis (presidio), 117 430
In de x
Santa Inés Island, 107 Santa María de Loreto, Florida (mission), 84 Santa María del Pópulo, Sonora (mission), 94, 96, 97 Santa María River, 92 Santa María Soamca, Sonora (mission), 97, 99, 118 Santarén, Hernando, 87 Santa Tecla, 199 Santiago de Chile, 6, 156, 158, 159, 355, 357, 358 Santiago de Guayaquil, 240 Santiago del Estero ( Jesuit college), 180, 361 Santiago y Palomares, Francisco Javier de, 360 Santo Corazón, Chiquitos (mission), 208, 212, 213 Santo Domingo, 106 Santo Tomé de Guiana, 250 São Caetano, 272 São Francisco do Sul, 278 São Luís (captaincy), 258 São Luís do Maranhão, 268 São Miguel, meridian, 38, 227 São Paulo, 259, 269, 270, 278 São Paulo (captaincy), 259, 262, 278 São Paulo ( Jesuit college), 259 São Vicente (captaincy), 257, 258, 259 Sáric, Sonora (mission), 97, 118 Sault Sainte Marie, Great Lakes (mission), 304, 306, 310, 311, 386, 389, 393 Schall von Bell, Adam, S.J., 27 Scheiner, Christoph, S.J., 28, 29 Scherer, Heinrich, S.J., 15, 35, 36, 37, 66, 67, 98, 120, 121, 125, plate 1, plate 2 Schindler, Nicholas, S.J., 226, 232 Schwebel, João André, 285 Sea of Cortez, 110, 114, 123, 128, 348 Sedelmayr, Jacobo, S.J., 118, 121 Sedeño, Antonio, S.J., 83 Segura, Juan Bautista de, 83 selenograph, 26 Sencheilin (people), 172 Seneca (people), 303, 317, 318 Seri (people), 55, 59, 94, 97, 102, 107, 118, 119 Serra da Mantiqueira, 272, 278 Serra do Espinhaço, 269, 272, 273 Serra Geral, 278 Serranos (people), 170, 172, 173 Serro do Frio, 273 Sesusquis (people), 172 Seutter, Matthäus, 187 Seven Years’ War, 86, 289, 323 Seville, 6, 76, 89, 98, 158, 334
Seville ( Jesuit college), 14 Sheboygan River, 312 Siam, 28 Sierra, Vicente D., 4 Sierra Charamuscas, 92 Sierra de Casuatí, 171 Sierra del Volcán, 171, 360 Sierra El Alamo Mocho, 92 Sierra la Chechena, 92 Sierra Madre, 88, 89, 92, 97, 114 Sierra of Nayarit, 115 Sigüenza y Góngora, Carlos de, S.J., 21, 23, 79, 80, 81, 86, 98, 101, 338 Sillery, 302, 317 Silva, Ferreira da Valquiria, 5, 267, 268 Sinaloa, 39, 42, 79, 87, 88, 109, 110, 113–15, 117, 118, 123, 126, plate 9 Sinaloa River, 87, 88, 123 Sioux (people), 304, 307, 318, 393 Sisoguichic (mine), 93 Soares, Diogo, S.J., 5, 14, 34, 38, 40, 57, 58, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275–78, 279, 280, 281, 287, 381, plate 32, plate 34, plate 35, plate 36 Sobaíporis (people), 102 Sobas (people), 102 Society of Jesus, 1, 3, 6, 9–21, 43, 47–50, 57–58, 62, 64, 67, 68, 161, 230, 237, 239, 250, 259, 283, 286, 321, 323, 327, 329 Solinas, Juan Antonio, S.J., 364 Sonora, 39, 42, 47, 48, 55, 56, 79, 80, 87, 88, 93–109, 110, 113, 114, 117–18, 119, 120–21, 126, 135, plate 3, plate 4, plate 5, plate 6, plate 7, plate 8 Sonora and Pimería, missions of, 97–99 Sonora River, 88, 96, 97, 101, 102, 110, 125 Soto, Juan de, S.J., 142, 144 Sousa, Martim Alfonso de, 260 Sousa, Tomé de (governor), 258, 259 Spain, 6, 12, 14, 17, 18, 22, 57–58, 64–65, 69, 75, 81, 83, 86, 108, 141, 157, 179, 197, 199, 224, 237, 244, 250, 261, 265, 274, 280, 286, 323, 326–27 Spanish-Portuguese War, 265, 276 Spilbergen, Joris van, 122 Stansel, Valentin, S.J., 23 star atlas. See celestial globe star chart. See celestial chart St. Augustine, 82, 83, 340 Stöcklein, Joseph, S.J., 60, 103 Strabo, 14 Strait of Magellan, 160, 169, 171, 174, 177, 356, 358 Strasser, Melchior, S.J., 162, 163, 165, 357
Strobel, Matthias, S.J., 169, 170, 190, 359, 365 Sturgeon River, 294 Sturm, Felipe, 285, 384 Suárez, Buenaventura, S.J., 24, 25, 72, 202, 208, 210 Sulpicians, 308, 317 Sumas (people), 102 Sumidouro, 272 sundial, 25, 35, 99 suppression, French, 1, 68, 321–23 suppression, general, 1, 25, 60, 67, 81, 132, 175, 217 suppression, in German speaking countries, 69, 70–71, 161 suppression, Portuguese, 1, 67, 286, 321, 323 suppression, Spanish, 1, 68, 67–73, 93, 109, 117, 151, 152, 154, 164–67, 221, 223, 240, 253–54 Surville, Luis de, 255, 256, 378 syncretism, cartographic, 22, 32 Syracuse, NY, 318 Szentmártonyi, Ignatius, S.J., 40, 57, 284–86, 383, 384, plate 38 Szluha, János Nepomuk, S.J., 183, 282, 283, 284, 383 Tadoussac, 32, 302, 320, 394 Talon, Jean (intendant), 303, 304, 391, 392 Tamaral, Nicolas, S.J., 49, 131, 349 Tamburini, Michelangelo, S.J., 184, 364 Tanikoua (people), 312 Tapacuras (people), 144, 147 Tapajós River, 282, 283, 284 Tape (region), 181, 182, 208, 209 Tapia, Gonzalo de, S.J., 87 Tarahumara (people), 89–93 Tarahumara (province), 47, 79, 80, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 101, 108, 109 Tarahumara, missions of, 91–92 Tarahumara uprising, 90, 93, 108 Tarda, José, S.J., 90 Tarumá, 183, 209, 212, 218, 219, 363 Taschereau de Linières, Claude-Bertrand, S.J., 64 Tebicuary River, 181, 189, 195 Tehuelches (people), 174 Teixeira, Luís, 261, 262 Teixeira, Pedro, 223, 224, 226, 261, 265, 371 Teixeira Albernaz I, João, 261, 264 telescope, use by Jesuits, 24, 28, 35, 99, 225, 285 Tellez, Juan, S.J., 115 Temores (people), 92 Tenerife, meridian (Pico Teide), 38, 39, 92, 96, 120, 164, 171, 172, 173, 186, 335, 336 Index
431
Tenquehuen, Chile (fort), 166 Tepehuanes (people), 89, 116 Tepehuanes (province), 109 Tepocas (people), 97 Tepoztlán, 86 Tequesta, Florida (mission), 83 Teras (people), 88 Terrenate (presidio), 109, 188, 120 Texas, 106, 108, 112 Teycunquin (people), 172 theodolite, 285 Thévenot, Jean de, 61 Thunder Bay, 294 Thwaites, Reuben Gold, 59 Tiarayú, José Sepé, 197, 199 Tibiries (people), 125, 126 Tiburón Island, 97, 100, 107, 110, 345 Tierra del Fuego, 171, 173 Tigre River, 236, 237 Toape, Sonora (mission), 97 Tobas (people), 206 Tobi River, 199, 367 Tobosos (people), 92 Toledo ( Jesuit college), 14 Toledo, Francisco de (viceroy), 137, 352 Toledo, meridian, 335 Tomochic River, 82 Topia (province), 109, 110 Tordesillas line. See Treaty of Tordesillas Torocosies (people), 144 Toromonas (people), 147 Torre, Nicolás de la, S.J., 238 Tramandaí, 279 Transandine region, 156, 160, 161, 166 Treaty of Breda, 266 Treaty of El Pardo, 197, 199 Treaty of Madrid, 24, 40, 65, 70, 150, 151, 158, 170, 179, 189, 193, 194–99, 203, 209, 214, 238, 258, 265, 273, 280–83, 286, 287, 359 Treaty of Paris, 197, 199, 200, 203, 280, 289, 323 Treaty of Quillin, 33, 54, 159, 160 Treaty of San Ildefonso, 239, 280, 366 Treaty of Tordesillas, 78, 139, 141, 189, 193, 223, 257, 258, 262, 265, 267, 268, 273, 281, 365, 372, 378, 381 Treaty of Utrecht, 184, 186, 244, 250, 265, 274, 280, 289, 319, 320, 337, 364, 379, 380 triangulation, 24, 25, 232 Trois-Rivières, 296, 299, 302, 389 Trujillo ( Jesuit college), 141
432
In de x
Tubac (presidio), 109, 118, 120 Tubutama, Sonora (mission), 97, 98, 117, 118, 121 Tucson, AZ, 119 Tucumán ( Jesuit college), 180 Tucumán (province), 180, 183, 186, 203, 219, 221, 356, 361 Tumacácori, 100 Tupi (people), 259 Ucayali River, 43, 223, 228, 237, 240, 371 Udías, Agustín, S.J., 3 Ugarte, Juan de, S.J., 107, 110, 348 Ulloa, Antonio de, 131, 232, 251 Ulloa, Francisco, de, 121, 348 Urique, 106 Urubú River, 265 Uruguay (state), 3, 178, 275 Uruguay River, 139, 180, 183–89, 192–99, 203, 209, 211, 216, 275, 279 Vachon de Belmont, François, 308 Valdelirios, Marquis de, 195 Valdivia, 157 Valdivia (fort), 156 Valdivia, Luis de, S.J., 157, 335 Valdivia, Pedro de, 136, 155, 355 Valladolid (Spain) ( Jesuit college), 14, 351, 359 Vallard, Nicolas, 290 Valparaiso, 159 Vatican, 4, 68, 69, 371, 385 Vaugondy, Robert de, 108, 135, plate 12 Veiga, Eusébio da, S.J., 255, 256, 377 Veigl, Franz Xavier, S.J., 38, 43, 240, 241, 242, 374 Velarde, Luis, S.J., 111 Velasco, José Antonio Manso de, 150 Velasco, Juan de, S.J., 14, 22, 71, 241, 242–44, 253, 375, plate 30 Velasco, Luis de (viceroy), 86, 87 Venegas, Miguel, S.J., 42, 49, 61, 131, 132, 133, 135 Venezuela, 79, 136, 244, 246, 372 Vera Cruz, 86, 98, 358 Verbiest, Ferdinand, S.J., 4, 27 Verrazzano, Giovanni da, 30, 289, 290 Verrazzano, Girolamo da, 290, 385 Vicente Pinzón River. See Rio Oyapock Vieira, Antônio, S.J., 266 Vienna, 26, 151, 189, 215, 359, 369, 374, 383 Vietnam, Jesuits in, 28 Vila Bela da Santíssima Trindade, 152
Vila Nova de Cerveira, Count of (ambassador), 281 Villa Aguilar, Tarahumara, 92 Villa Ocampo, Tarahumara, 91 Villar del Val, Rafael, 126–35, 349, plate 11 Villareal, Francisco, S.J., 82, 83 Villarica, 157 Villaseñor y Sánchez, José Antonio, 62, 63, 81, 339 Virginia, 83, 302, 386 Visconti, Ignacio, S.J., 50 Vizcaíno, Sebastián, 122, 128, 340, 341 VOC (East India Company), 39, 66 War of Jenkins’ Ear, 83, 244, 250 War of the Spanish Succession, 47, 183, 229, 232, 267, 274, 319, 337, 363, 364 WIC (West India Company), 66, 261, 379 Willingham, Eileen, 5 Winkler, Johann Christoph, 189, 365 Wisconsin, 296, 310, 311, 313, 389 Wisconsin River, 313 Wolf River, 311
Wye River, 294 Wytfliet, Cornelius van, 65, 66, 137, 138 Xavier, Francis, St., 20 Xingu River, 282, 283, 284, 379, 380, 383 Yameos (people), 237 Yaqui (people), 92, 108 Yaqui River, 88, 114, 120, 121, 124 Yaqui uprising, 110, 113, 114, 117, 118, 120 Yarapey River, 196 Yavari River, 239, 283 Ygurey River, 195 Yuracaré (people), 144, 147 Zacatecas (mine), 87 Zacatecas (province), 87, 340 Zamucos (people), 186 Zea, Juan Bautista, S.J., 21 Zeballos, Francisco, S.J., 118 Zucchi, Niccolò, S.J., 28 Zúñiga, José de, S.J., 160
Index
433