Exploration History Scholarship: An “Untamable Beast”

We are pleased to present a very full issue that begins with a Special Anniversary section to mark milestones, which includes pieces to commemorate the Fiftieth Anniversary of Terrae Incognitae (TI), by long-time TI Editor and SHD Fellow David Buisseret, and the Sixtieth Anniversary of the Society of the History for Discoveries (SHD), by current SHD President Mirela Altić. Additionally, the section includes biographies of SHD founders, Thomas Goldstein, John Parker, and Vsevolod Slessarev, by SHD Fellow Carol Urness, and of another important SHD member, Barbara Backus McCorkle, by long-time and essential SHD member Ed Dahl, holistic profiles that effectively place these significant figures into historical context and explore the connections between their personal and professional lives, including a discussion of their scholarship. Next, we have a substantial Articles section that consists of three engaging pieces, which is followed by Recent Literature and, finally, Reviews.

The Special Anniversary section provides insights into the origins and development of the SHD and TI from a historical vantagepoint. Reading through these pieces and preparing the section for publication has inspired me to do a bit of reflection. I share these thoughts with full awareness that since I’m new to the SHD and TI I lack the long-term perspective of most members.

I took the subtitle of my introduction, “Untamable Beast,” from Buisseret’s piece in this issue of TI because it seemed to get to the essence. He utilizes the phrase to express what he characterizes as the “uncoordinated” efforts of TI over the years, suggesting that scholarship, an “untamable beast” by its very nature, sort of has a will of its own and cannot be fully disciplined, controlled, or coordinated by the SHD or TI. SHD Fellow Norman Thrower, in his 2008 “Personal Reminiscences,” characterizes the SHD and TI in a fashion that resonates with Buisseret’s description, albeit with distinct terminology: “I found it impossible to generalize about the subjects of the contributions at SHD meetings and in TI; eclectic, varied, and interesting are the words that come to mind. Subjects range over all fields of geographical discovery history, without any pattern, as far as I could discern.”¹

Along with the nature of scholarship itself, perhaps another contributing factor that explains this (what I will call here) diversity are the cultures of the SHD and TI. As the pieces in the Special Anniversary section show (especially Altić’s “Brief History”), the SHD has been characterized by openness and inclusivity; its members include men and women, academics and laypeople, and the members have a wide range of specializations, making it a multidisciplinary society. It makes sense that this culture of openness would translate into diversity in terms of scholarship, both at SHD annual meetings and in TI. This open culture creates space for investigating a range of topics with assorted methodologies, a research agenda informed by individual members' interests that produces a scholarship that organically branches out into different areas.

Subject matter may be another factor. Indeed, while Buisseret’s “untamable beast” characterization applies to scholarship in general, it is perhaps particularly apt for research on exploration and discovery. The fact that scholars even debate about what constitutes the field of exploration studies (see Buisseret’s article in this issue) is a testament to its vitality and sprawling nature. Scholars point to the 1960s, an era of decolonization, as a fertile period when new approaches and perspectives emerged. Postcolonial studies, which had a critical perspective, proved influential. Postmodernism, which inspired new interpretations of classic exploration texts and travelogues, also had an impact (and not only on studies of exploration and discovery, but also travel literature/studies, an interconnected field). Perhaps one of the hallmarks of the new approaches that emerged was an effort to look at exploration from more perspectives, thereby bringing more actors into the narrative. In a relatively recent (2014) publication, Harry Liebersohn asserts that “During the past half century, scholars have experimented with a great many different points of view and have also tried to shape them into a larger narrative that can encompass more than one perspective. There have been many attempts to rethink and retell the story of exploration, many of them vivid and valuable.”²

Luca Codignola, in his 2001 survey of exploration and discoveries scholarship, also maintains that new studies that emerged in the 1960s took a broader view.³ He makes a connection between earlier innovative works and James Axtell’s approach, utilizing an excerpt from a 1995 article by Axtell to define this scholarship:

If [the Columbus Quincentenary] has taught anything, it has demonstrated that … we should no longer restrict our attention to the Admiral of the Ocean Sea … but should try to understand the cultural and intellectual world from which he came and in which he continued to operate. We should attend particularly to the short- and long-range consequences of the unification of the globe and of the human, biological, and cultural encounters he inaugurated.⁴

Codignola terms this a “global history of the encounter” approach, contrasting it with what he terms “traditional exploration studies.” While he never explains what exactly constitutes the latter, he does create these two distinct approaches: “traditional, old-fashioned discovery and exploration studies or works reflecting Axtell’s call for a global history of the encounter.”⁵

One of the important points of Codignola’s survey of the literature is his contention that the emergence of a “global history of the encounter” hasn’t eclipsed “traditional exploration studies,” which, he maintains, remain vibrant. He attributes the persistence of “traditional” approaches to anniversaries (that inspire conferences, publications, etc.) and “scholarly curiosity.”⁶ Of course, academic debates have generated Codignola’s “traditional” scholarship too. Perhaps Codignola would place some of the debates that SHD and TI have made important contributions to (and are discussed in the Special Anniversary section) into his “traditional” category. Codignola’s observation that different approaches coexist underscores the vastness and diversity of exploration scholarship—put differently, its “untamable” nature—and helps explain why scholars still debate about what fits under the heading of “exploration and discovery.”

Of course, the reality is more complicated than Codignola’s (somewhat arbitrary) two approaches suggest. Scholarship does not necessarily fit neatly into one of Codignola’s (vaguely defined) approaches or the other; some research is broader in scope and incorporates different approaches. In fact, one could argue that Liebersohn’s “larger narrative that can encompass more than one perspective” is more of an attempt to add new “stories” than to erase older ones, thereby creating a more comprehensive narrative that may modify, not obliterate, earlier scholarship. Indeed, while Liebersohn acknowledges that certain types of stories (e.g., “heroic stories that great men like to tell about themselves”; or “stories of women and ordinary people”) are more in vogue with scholars at certain historical moments than others, his embrace of a “larger narrative” suggests a scholarship that incorporates multiple stories.⁷ An example of a comprehensive work along these lines, one that incorporates Axtell’s “global history of encounter,” but also broaches topics and issues that might fit into Codignola’s “traditional” exploration studies is A Cultural History of Exploration, edited by (previous TI editor) Lauren Beck and Fabio López Lázaro, a 6-volume work (currently being completed) that will be published by Bloomsbury Press. The thematic chapter structure for each volume—technologies; motivations; finance; explorers; the peoples explorers encountered; and ways the exploration was represented in texts and images—show that the work will be comprehensive, not only addressing both of Codignola’s categories, but also examining the ways that contemporaries portrayed—or, put differently, constructed—exploration.⁸

TI and SHD members, in keeping with the spirit of diversity in scholarship, have engaged in a wide range of research topics, utilizing some of the approaches discussed by Codignola, Axtell, and Liebersohn. Pieces in the Special Anniversary section of this issue suggest this: Buisseret notes that TI editorials survey to new directions in research and the journal has occasional thematic issues, and Altić asserts that at recent SHD meetings papers have examined topics such as indigenous cultures, the impact of encounters on local societies, women, and have utilized new mapping research technologies.

The fact that SHD Fellow Sanford H. Bederman’s call for research into new areas, made at the 2004 SHD annual meeting, has been answered also illustrates that the SHD and TI have continued to explore new topics. Bederman lamented the absence of research on women and proposed a “special sessions devoted to women explorers, and even a special issue of Terrae Incognitae.” Turning to another subject, he stated that Felix “Driver introduces the concept, ‘Cultures of Exploration,’ a topic I have never seen discussed in Terrae Incognitae.” Bederman explained that “Driver is concerned with how exploration narratives were ‘produced and consumed,’ who aided explorers, who benefited from their accomplishments, and how their exploits were publicized.”⁹ Since Bederman gave the talk, TI has published a special issue on women¹⁰ and published articles in the spirit of Driver’s “Cultures of Exploration.”¹¹

The three engaging articles that appear in this issue fit into different trends in the scholarship discussed in this introduction. Juliet Wiersema’s article, “The Map of the Yurumanguí Indians. Charting the Erasure of the Pacific Lowlands’ Indigenous Inhabitants, 1742–1780,” effectively places a Spanish map and its accompanying documents into to a historical context, thereby providing new and valuable insights into a Spanish periphery and its indigenous inhabitants during the eighteenth century. Along with featuring indigenous peoples, the article shows the difficulties Spaniards faced in establishing settlements on the periphery, the role of missionaries and miners on this Spanish frontier, the contradictory nature of the Bourbon Reforms, and more. Thus, this insightful and lucidly written article provides a detailed picture of a variety of groups and shows their impact on the region. From the framework of this introduction to TI, Wiersema’s article is an example of Liebersohn’s characterization of exploration studies as incorporating multiple perspectives and (especially) Codignola’s “global history of the encounter” approach, particularly Axtell’s emphasis on the “consequences of the unification of the globe.”¹² Indeed, Wiersema ingeniously utilizes the map and accompanying documents to gain insights into indigenous culture, especially the consequences that the Spanish intrusion had on the Yurumanguí Indians.

Matthew H. Edney’s elegant and compelling article, “‘Creating Discovery’: The Myth of Columbus, 1777–1828,” utilizing the example of Columbus, serves as an illustration of Liebersohn’s assertion that, amongst historians, specific types of stories about explorers are in vogue at certain historical moments.¹³ Edney shows that a heroic scientist-discoverer Columbus only emerged in late eighteenth-century historical narratives, when Anglophone historians, whose writings were shaped by the ideological currents of the Romantic era, depicted Columbus in a novel way. The fact that Columbus has been under attack in recent decades further illustrates Liebersohn’s claim about how predilections change over time (clearly, a different narrative about Columbus is in fashion today), and underscores the importance of Edney’s article, which shows that explorers and discovery itself were refashioned during the Romantic era.

Lydia Towns’s article, “Merchants, Monarchs and Sixteenth-Century Atlantic Exploration: New Insight into Henry VIII’s Planned Voyage of 1521,” contests conventional wisdom by persuasively arguing that Henry VIII, failed voyage notwithstanding, was very interested in Atlantic exploration. Towns’s emphasis on Henry’s motivations and worldview resonates with Axtell’s plea that “we [scholars] should no longer restrict our attention to the Admiral of the Ocean Sea … but should try to understand the cultural and intellectual world from which he came and which he would continue to operate.”¹⁴ As Towns explains, until recently unsuccessful voyages have been mostly neglected by scholars. But Towns shows that studying them can provide valuable insights into attitudes about exploration. By looking at motivations, her article provides a window into a fractured intellectual culture, for while Henry supported Atlantic exploration others did not, revealing an elite culture comprised of competing interests and attitudes.

I would like to thank all the people who helped produce this issue of TI; I would not have been able to complete it without their support. Karl Rast, my new editorial assistant, helped with copyediting. Laurie Corbin translated abstracts into French and Luis Robles Macías translated them into Spanish. Associate editors Anthony Mullan and Alistair Maeer reviewed manuscripts. With the support of Austin Miller, our new assistant book review editor, who built an inventory of books, book review editor David Buisseret has curated a fine section of reviews for this issue. (He had a dozen reviews ready; some will appear later because we could only publish four in this issue due to space constraints.) Austin Miller helped compile and organize the titles for the “Recent Literature and Discovery” section. Finally, I would like to thank all the authors: Mirela Altić, David Buisseret, Ed Dahl, Matthew Edney, Lydia Towns, Carol Urness, and Juliet Wiersema. It was a pleasure to work with them; their contributions were essential to the success of this Special Anniversary issue.

Notes

¹ Norman J. Thrower, “About Eight Decades in the History of Discoveries: Some Personal Reminiscences,” 49th Annual Meeting of the Society for the History of Discoveries, Arlington, Texas, 2008.

² Harry Liebersohn, “A Half Century of Shifting Narrative Perspectives on Encounters,” in Reinterpreting Exploration: The West in the World, ed. Dane Kennedy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), pp. 38–79, esp. 39.

³ Luca Codignola, “North American Discovery and Exploration Historiography, 1993–2001: From Old-Fashioned Anniversaries to the Tall Order of Global History?” Acadiensis 31, no. 2 (Spring, 2002), pp. 185–206.

⁴ Quoted in Codignola, “North American Discovery,” p. 187; the original source: James Axtell, “Columbian Encounters: 1992–1995,” The William and Mary Quarterly 52, no. 4 (October, 1995), pp. 650–1.

⁵ Luca Codignola, “North American Discovery,” p. 187.

⁶ Ibid., p. 188.

⁷ Liebersohn, “Shifting Narratives,” p. 38.

⁸ Some chapters haven’t been assigned yet; those interested in participating should contact the editors.

⁹ Sanford H. Bederman, “A Geographer’s Reflections on Exploration and Discovery,” presented at the 45th Annual Meeting of the Society for the History of Discoveries, Cody, Wyoming, 2004. Bederman was referring to Driver’s Geography Militant: Cultures of Exploration and Empire (Malden: Blackwell Publishers, 2001).

¹⁰ Terrae Incognitae 48, no. 1 (2016).

¹¹ See, for example, Alberto Cauli, “The Duke of Abruzzi’s Noble Idea of Winning the North Pole for Italy: Popularization of the Arctic Expedition led by Luigi Amedeo of Savoia,” Terrae Incognitae 51, no. 2 (August, 2019), pp. 153–69; and Ricarda Ledesma Alonso, “‘Accidental Nations,’ ‘Nations in the Making’: James Bryce’s Colonialist Interpretation of Latin American Nations,” Terrae Incognitae 52, no. 1 (April, 2020), pp. 65–85.

¹² Axtell, “Columbian Encounters,” pp. 650–1.

¹³ Liebersohn, “Shifting Narratives,” p. 38.

¹⁴ Axtell, “Columbian Encounters,” p. 651.