But there are very few of the first drafts of the early maps left. The rolls of parchment which originated in the rough pilot house of an early sailing vessel were often damaged by ocean spray and rats’ teeth; under such conditions they could last but a short while. Probably not five, altogether, survive. Yet lately I have had the unexampled good fortune to obtain two actual pilots’ charts; the first one was used on the voyage of Cortés, the other must have accompanied Pizarro on his magnificent conquest of Peru. The former shows but the barest outline of the coasts of the two Americas; the second, only fifteen years later, presents a much more detailed diagram of the shores, indicating the advance in geographical knowledge during this brief period.
Probably the two finest and most highly finished examples of the map-maker’s art are two table books: the Spitzer chart in the John Carter Brown Library at Providence and the famous Jacques Cartier atlas in the collection of the late Henry E. Huntington. Another magnificent collection of portolano charts is in the library of the Hispanic Society in New York City, formed by the great student and collector, Mr. Archer M. Huntington.
Now the young book enthusiast, if he has a limited amount of money, must not feel out of the running when he sees that many of the rarer examples of Americana are beyond his means. Indeed, the discriminating collector seeks not only the great and costly pieces, such as Richard Hakluyt’s Divers Voyages Touching the Discoverie of America, 1582 (complete with both maps); Thomas Hariot’s Briefe and True Report of the New Found Land of Virginia, 1588; Francis Drake’s West Indian Voyage, 1589; or that wonderful collection, the most elaborate ever compiled about America, known as De Bry’s Voyages. Of course, everyone would like to secure these descriptions of the early discoveries. Such fascinating accounts as those bequeathed to posterity by Fray Bartolomé de las Casas, the first real historian of the Spanish conquest, and his successor, Cieza de Leon—these will always be coveted, it goes without saying.
It is the little things, however, that I think most appealing.
For instance, within the past few months I found and purchased the first tailor bill in the New World. It was the original invoice sent to Hernando de Soto in 1536, several years before he made his momentous discovery of the Mississippi River. The bill was dated from Lima, the City of the Kings, which had only been founded in 1535. There were forty items listed: bolts of the finest black velvets and satins, yards and yards of scarlet taffeta for linings. Can you see the great conquistador flashing his way through some primeval jungle, clad like the king’s courtier that he was, even in the wilderness? But to me the most startling thing about this bill of $1400 for one month’s raiment is that it was—receipted! How the tailors on Fifth Avenue would gloat over this relic of their earliest predecessor! Perhaps some way will be found to make a facsimile of the first receipted weapon of their trade. It should be hung in every tailoring establishment along the Avenue as a gentle reminder to tardy patrons. Although the clothes and the tailor who made them, as well as the customer who wore them, have all long since evaporated, Juan Ruiz, the tailor’s name, will live. It is forever connected with the distinguished name of Hernando de Soto, the discoverer of the Mississippi.
Virginia in the early days included practically all the English possessions in America. Consequently New England was part of Virginia. The first books relating to this English colony in the New World are all of abounding interest. The history of settlements such as these, of fierce and frequent fights with Indians, or the gentler tale of Raleigh and his pipe of tobacco, reads like a dime novel. Of course all these descriptions are entrancingly rare and the acquisition of any one of them will make a dent in the most astute pocketbook. As a rule, these tracts were ephemeral publications not unlike much of the pamphlet literature that is issued to-day. They were small quarto volumes, sometimes comprising only eight or ten leaves. After they were read they doubtless were cast into the seventeenth-century equivalent of the waste-paper basket, and that is why so few are in existence to-day. The cherished survivors have been preserved because they were bound together in volumes at the time they were issued.
Recently, in the library of an old London house, I came across one of these precious collections containing twenty-three of the rarest pamphlets relating to America. Bound therein were such collectors’ darlings as Brereton’s Brief and true Relation of the Discovery of the Northern Part of Virginia, 1602; James Rosier’s A True Relation of the most prosperous Voyage made this present year 1605 in the Discovery of the Land of Virginia, published in London in 1605. And embedded in the centre of the volume, like a choice nugget, was the first work of the redoubtable Captain John Smith, entitled A True Relation of such Occurrences and Accidents of Noate as hath hapned in Virginia, London, 1608.
“Have you any other books or pamphlets relating to America?” I asked the distinguished owner after I had purchased this volume, which was worth many thousands of pounds. He thought for so long before answering that I was afraid he had nothing. When I had almost given up hope, he said suddenly, “Would you be interested in a presentation copy of Captain Smith’s Generall Historie of Virginia, 1624?”
“What are you trying to do? Pull my leg?”
“No, really,” he replied. “Here it is.” He walked the length of the great room to an enormous bookcase with glass doors, and tenderly extracted a tall slim book. The arms of England were impressed in gold upon the covers. To say I was astounded is to express it mildly. And there, covering the whole flyleaf in front of the beautifully engraved title page, was the only known specimen of handwriting of the celebrated “Governour and Admirall of New England,” as Captain Smith was dubbed thereon. Since this dedication is entirely unknown, I give it here to be printed for the first time:—