Array (  => stdClass Object ( [ID] => 8685 [post_author] => 3589 [post_date] => 2013-11-01 00:58:22 [post_date_gmt] => 2013-11-01 00:58:22 [post_content] => Three hundred and twenty years before Columbus, it is said, a Welsh Prince sailed across the Atlantic and into the Gulf of Mexico. His voyage of discovery and two subsequent returns were not recorded outside of his own homeland, but nevertheless, they were recorded. Like the Vikings whose similar adventures were described in their Sagas, the Welsh voyages were almost always considered fiction. The Vikings sailed in search of new lands; others, including Basque and Breton fishermen, had fished the Grand Banks for cod long before Columbus, but the Welsh Prince sailed for peace. The Prince was Madoc ab Owain Gwynedd, or simply Prince Madoc. His adventure begins in Wales in 1170, after the death of his father Owain Gwynedd. Upon the ruler’s death his sons battled for the throne that might have gone to the eldest if he had not been regarded as unfit to rule. Another son had been born to an Irish mother and was thus also deemed disqualified. That particular son, David, had gathered those loyal to him and killed another of the brothers, so Madoc decided discretion was the better part of valor, and left Wales. Madoc ab Owain Gwynedd sailed westward until he came to the “country,” which the Spaniards would later claim as their own “discovering.” Richard Hakluyt, a late sixteenth century writer, who documented numerous ocean crossings, recorded his story. Besides his work as a historian, Hakluyt was also in the employ of Queen Elizabeth’s spymaster Francis Walsingham. He didn’t particularly enjoy his work as a spy, but it did give him access to documents not available to other historians. Hakluyt insists the Prince Madoc made it all the way across the Atlantic, and that he then returned, and more than once. After reaching the Gulf of Mexico, Madoc headed back to Wales where he described the beautiful lands he had seen. He then gathered a large group of followers and set about making a voyage of exploration and colonization. Again he crossed the sea but this time with ten ships and the company of both men and women. A Documented Voyage, Ignored Madoc’s story might have been entirely forgotten except for the fact that it had been written down by monks who had labored in the abbeys of Wales. The monasteries of the British Isles and Ireland preserved much of the medieval culture of the period although time and catastrophe, punctuated by periods of disinterest, seem to have prevented much of their lore from surviving to modern times. A Welsh bard, Gutton Owen, in the employ of King Henry VII, came across the story while researching the genealogy of the king. The tale of Madoc was found recorded in the Benedictine Abbeys of Conway and Strat Flur. These in turn had been used to revise Caradoc’s History of Wales. Welsh bards long before Columbus also sang the travels of Madoc. The Prince’s story was then recorded in Hakluyt’s Voyages compiled in the late sixteenth century in the era of John Dee and Queen Elizabeth I. Hakluyt is the most famous of early chroniclers of discoveries of Europe’s explorers. He is criticized because he often included what were considered the fanciful details which sailors brought home—many of which were later proven true—and were avoided by serious historians. Such details are not the only reasons the stories were doubted, though. Some believe they were concocted entirely as another English attempt to build a claim for a piece of the New World, despite having been preceded by Columbus. One criticism of Hakluyt is that he claims it was in what is now modern Mexico that the prospective colonists landed. If a Welshman had been to America before the Spaniards, it might have added weight to British claims on that territory. The author also suggested that it might account for the practices and sacraments carried on by the Aztecs, which included Christian symbols and elements. Montezuma, after all, said that white men had come before to bring education to his people. These bearded white men had left and promised to return. The Spaniards, as we know, would prove not to be the benevolent teachers he was expecting. In 1580, Dr. John Dee, alchemist and astronomer to Queen Elizabeth, would include the Madoc tale on his map. Dee believed Madoc had inhabited “Terra Florida or thereabouts.” He led Elizabeth to believe that because of King Arthur’s Avalon and Madoc’s colonization, England had a role to play in the New World. Elizabeth, for her part, was torn between keeping peace with Spain and sending Sir Francis Drake to pillage their treasure ships. In 1583, Dee’s map was followed by the publication of Sir George Peckham’s True Reporte. Peckham had relied on an account of a David Ingram who had been left behind by Sir John Hawkins’ fleet in 1568. He told of walking 2,000 miles and claimed to have encountered fantastic sites with pillars of gold and a tribe whose language contained Welsh words. He heard of birds that were referred to as penguins, the Welsh name for the Arctic birds. Penn meant Head and Gwyn meant white. A British historian, David Powel updated a much older Welsh document in 1584, called the Historia Cambria. The author of this History of Wales was a Caradoc of Llancarfan, and his writings included the three voyages of Madoc that culminated in the settlement of the New World with men, women, and livestock. Where Did Madoc Land? The favored theory is that he made it into the Gulf of Mexico and landed in the vicinity of Mobile, Alabama. He may have explored the Mobile Bay and sailed upriver, but then headed back to the Gulf and then found the Mississippi River more navigable. It is claimed that he “founded” the city of Paducah in Kentucky. In the Paducah area, the Native American tribes believed a white Indian tribe was once defeated by a red tribe. One writer in the early twentieth century described a battle between the two tribes along the Ohio River. On the site of the battle, he claimed that armor depicting the Welsh coat of arms was borne by skeletons of the dead. The Shawnee Chief Blackhoof also told of a white race that had lived in Florida and used iron tools. A Cherokee chief Oconostota spoke of white people that had crossed the ocean and landed in Mobile Bay. Despite building stone fortifications on the Highwassee River, they were forced to move on and finally settled in Kentucky. The tribe that did survive in the area is the Mandan. They were unusual, having members with red hair and blue eyes, not common traits among most Native American tribes. When the nineteenth century painter, George Catlin, returned from living with the Mandan, his portraits were considered fake because his Indians appeared more European than American. His published works about the tribe declare his belief that they were descended from Europeans. Their canoes were described as resembling the Welsh hide boats, rather than hollowed out logs. He even claimed that the name “Mandan” derived from Madawgys, which was given to the Prince’s followers. The Mandan people even have their own flood account. The story includes a leader Numank getting his people to build an ark and save themselves from impending disaster. In the annual celebration of this event, Numank is depicted as a white man. There is more evidence that the Mandan tales and the stories told by author and painter Catlin are truthful. Sir Walter Raleigh wrote that he met with a tribe whose language was clearly derived from Welsh. In the 1660s, a Welsh sailor shipwrecked on the American shores claimed that he met a group of Indians who spoke Welsh and had a tradition of having sailed from the east. In 1669, Rev. Morgan Jones, a chaplain to the governor of Virginia, met up with a Tuscaroan tribe called the Doeg who understood his Welsh tongue. He preached the Gospel in Welsh for a decade and wrote about his experience in 1686. In 1721, Father Charlevoiux, a Catholic priest, encountered the Iowa tribe. They claimed that three days away were the Omans who had white skin and fair hair. A French explorer, Sieur de la Verendrye, in 1735 described the language as resembling the Cornish language of Brittany, a language with similar roots to the Welsh language. Another French explorer Pierre Gautier de Varennes met up with Mandan people in North Dakota. He claimed they lived in domed houses on lined streets. They honored an ancestral spirit Madoc Maho and understood Welsh. Madahando actually means a “person of renown, a chief” so it may be a case of deciding which came first. A Revolutionary War captain, Isaac Stewart, traveling up the Red River from the Mississippi was captured, like the chaplain, and was ransomed from the Mandan. His name for the tribe was the McCedus. He described them as nearly white and red haired. They told him that they were from the east and showed him writing in a language he did not understand. Daniel Boone also spoke of a blue-eyed American Indian tribe. He believed that they were Welsh in origin although he admitted: “I have no means of assessing their language.” In 1804, then-president Thomas Jefferson sent out an expedition to view what the country had just bought as part of the Louisiana Purchase. Clark, of the Lewis and Clark expedition, later commented on blond-haired, blue-eyed native women. A Benjamin Sutton described Welsh speaking natives that owned a Bible. The list goes on. Archaeological Evidence In Tennessee, there is a fort built long before Columbus reached the American shores. When it was excavated, the walls were found to be 2,000 feet long, with one gate and a surrounding moat. Archaeologists discovered no signs of occupation of the fort and claim it to be older than either Madoc or the Vikings. Nevertheless, it is built in a fashion typical to Wales. The Old Stone fort is near the river city of Chattanooga. In De Soto Falls, Alabama, another ruined fort was found dating to the twelfth century. In Georgia, a third fort unlike anything constructed by Native Americans was found at what is now called Fort Mountain. The sites in Alabama and Georgia are described as being more representative of twelfth-century Great Britain than Native North American Indian. The Mandan were eventually victims of a European import, smallpox. They did not survive to confirm or deny their origin, so we are left with the testimony of a handful and the paintings and writings of George Catlin. In 1832, Catlin may have had the last word. He witnessed firsthand a people with light complexion, the women even more so. Their way of stretching hide around a wooden frame to build a boat was exactly like the Welsh oracle. He compiled a list of Welsh-Mandan word similarities, including pan—the Mandan word for head, which was pen in Welsh. The Welsh word for boat was corwyg, the Mandan word was koorig. The word for paddle in Welsh was pronounced “ree” and spelled rhywf. The Mandan word was ree. The color blue in both Welsh and Mandan was glas. Bread in Welsh was barra and in Mandan bara. The adjective great was mawr in Welsh and mah in Mandan. It was six years after Catlan’s visit that small pox nearly wiped out the tribe. Survivors banded together with Hidatsa and Arikara, which also had been hurt by the epidemics. An Unrecorded Migration It is possible that the three voyages of Madoc brought thousands of Welsh to the Americas. From the port of Mobile, Alabama, and the Florida Panhandle, they headed up rivers great and small leaving an imprint that was preserved in structures, language, and among blue-eyed peoples. Outnumbered they might have been assimilated in culture and occasionally defeated in battle. While Columbus sailed the ocean with the blessing of the King and Queen of Spain and the financial backing of Italian bankers, it is not remarkable that the results of the voyage became quickly known throughout Europe. Similarly the sagas of the Vikings left records of their early ocean crossings, and despite the criticism, the discovery of L’Anse aux Meadows and other evidence in Canada gave credence to their tale. Unofficial voyages however have a greater degree of skepticism to overcome. Written records of Madoc are discredited and seen as serving nationalistic goals despite dating to pre-Columbian times. Eyewitness accounts are not believed. Legends of American Indian tribes are simply regarded as tales. Had Madoc’s people not assimilated into the culture, we might be celebrating Madoc’s Day. In the harbor of Mobile Bay, Alabama, a plaque was dedicated to Madoc in 1953. It declared him, “Discoverer of America in AD 1170.” It was damaged by a hurricane in 2008 and later placed in storage by the Alabama Parks Services, who considered it an embarrassment. From that year on, there has been a movement to get it replaced, but so far there are no plans from the powers that be to follow through. [post_title] => Did the Welsh Discover America? [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => closed [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => did-the-welsh-discover-america [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2014-01-25 00:33:50 [post_modified_gmt] => 2014-01-25 00:33:50 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://atlantisrisingmagazine.com/?p=8685 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw )  => stdClass Object ( [ID] => 8679 [post_author] => 3589 [post_date] => 2013-11-01 00:53:06 [post_date_gmt] => 2013-11-01 00:53:06 [post_content] => On a brisk English day this past May, I found myself climbing Glastonbury Tor in the presence of none other than Anthony Thorley, an expert, indeed in my opinion perhaps the foremost living authority, on the Glastonbury Zodiac. A retired psychiatrist who for over three decades has been studying landscape traditions, histories, and energies, Thorley is currently pursuing a Ph.D. at the University of Wales (Trinity Saint David) focused on landscape zodiacs, such as the Zodiac found at Glastonbury. I had come to Glastonbury at the invitation of Hugh Newman to speak at the 2013 UK Megalithomania Conference, and I quickly fell in love with the village and became fascinated by the local history, particularly the Glastonbury Zodiac. As we climbed to the top of the tor, Mr. Thorley shared freely and enthusiastically his penetrating insights concerning the landscape zodiac that surrounded us. Later, at the parking lot in the center of Glastonbury near the bed and breakfast where Katie (my wife) and I were staying, I was honored when Thorley inscribed to us a copy of the recently released, large-format, multi-authored anthology titled Signs and Secrets of the Glastonbury Zodiac (edited by Yuri Leitch; Avalonian Aeon Publications, Glastonbury, 2013). Thorley contributed the opening and closing chapters to this massive tome. Thorley and I had had some deep and profound discussions during the better part of a day we had spent together, as Katie and I had joined a small group Thorley led on a tour of Glastonbury Abbey and Glastonbury Tor. He assured me that I would learn much more from this new publication, and he was right. Yet, like any good book, it only sparked my interest to read and research further! Soon I was in possession of secondhand copies of the original 1930s descriptions of the Glastonbury Zodiac by Katherine Maltwood. I was hooked, but it turns out not for the reasons that initially attracted me to this enigmatic Zodiac that stretches some ten miles in diameter across the landscape. I have always had a fascination for old things, for deep antiquity, and my initial interest in the Glastonbury Zodiac came from a passage I had read while researching the Elizabethan scientist, mathematician, astronomer, astrologer, geographer, occultist, alchemist, and general polymath Dr. John Dee (1527–1608/9). In his biography of Dee, Richard Deacon (the pseudonym of Donald McCormick, 1911–1998) wrote, “Certainly there is evidence that Dee mapped out some of the zodiacal effigies in this district, though the puzzle is how he found the key or code to locate them as they were purposefully designed to be invisible to all who did not possess the key.” (John Dee: Scientist, Geographer, Astrologer and Secret Agent to Elizabeth I, 1968, p. 174; quoted by Thorley, p. 7, and by Yuri Leitch, p. 195, in Signs and Secrets). Deacon claimed that Dee had drafted a map of the Glastonbury Zodiac, and in his biography Deacon published a direct quotation concerning the Zodiac purportedly transcribed from a Dee manuscript. As we climbed Glastonbury Tor, I asked Thorley about the Dee connection to the Zodiac. He responded quickly and definitively: there is no solid evidence that Dee ever visited or investigated the Zodiac. Indeed, in Dee’s time much of the current landscape that comprises the Zodiac was under water! This is not to say that Dee never had a connection with Glastonbury and the Abbey there, for he certainly did. Glastonbury was a well-known medieval pilgrimage site and center of esoteric and arcane knowledge (along the same lines, today Glastonbury is a focal point of the New Age movement). Glastonbury is located in Somerset in southwestern England—originally an area predominated by marshlands that were drained, even if again flooded at times and during certain seasons. Glastonbury Tor is a natural hill, although apparently artificially terraced in ancient or medieval times, which rose like an island above the flooded lowlands. This may be why some have identified Glastonbury as the legendary island of Avalon. Was this the site of the Arthurian legends? Here, too, it is said that Joseph of Arimathea came, bringing with him various relics, including the Holy Grail; in addition, Joseph brought the Holy Thorn Tree to Glastonbury. Perhaps even Jesus himself visited Glastonbury, according to some legends. Joseph (or Jesus) founded the earliest Christian church in the British Isles, which would become Glastonbury Abbey, a thriving community until it was dissolved in 1539 during the Reformation when the last Abbot, Richard Whiting (Whyting), was executed on Glastonbury Tor. The graves of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere reputedly were discovered within the confines of the Abbey. Returning to Dr. Dee and his Glastonbury connections, it was from or near Glastonbury that Dee’s assistant, Edward Kelley, purportedly acquired a rare alchemical text as well as a magical powder. Dee may have traveled to Glastonbury seeking out ancient books and manuscripts that had been abandoned with the closing of the Abbey. Before he passed away, Richard Deacon had been questioned about the “Dee connection” with the Glastonbury Zodiac, but he was evasive at best. He never produced the original manuscript from which he took the Dee quotation—had the manuscript disappeared? It has been suggested that the “Dee quotation” was actually a fabrication, plagiarized, and turned into pseudo-Elizabethan language, from a 1930s publication by Katherine Maltwood (see below). The general agreement seems to be that Deacon perpetuated a hoax in connecting Dee with the Glastonbury Zodiac. If so, the question is, why? Why did he compromise his scholarship in an otherwise laudable biography? I have read his entire book and the connection of Dee with the Zodiac is simply superfluous. As it turns out, no definitive evidence has been uncovered thus far to demonstrate that the Glastonbury Zodiac is anything other than an early twentieth century “creation” by its “discoverer” Katherine Maltwood (see the various articles in Signs and Secrets). On learning this, initially I was profoundly disappointed. I, like so many people, wanted the Zodiac to be a relic of the distant past, hoary with antiquity. I was almost ready to dismiss it as totally lacking in any real significance or interest, but as I spoke with Thorley at length about his research, I began to change my mind. Katherine Emma Maltwood née Sapsworth (1878–1961) was a well-to-do artist (best known for her sculptures), collector, and patron of the arts. She was born in a suburb of London and married the successful businessman John Maltwood. She had a keen interest in various arcane subjects such as theosophy (H. P. Blavatsky mentions the concept of a landscape zodiac in her writings, and this may have influenced Maltwood), Eastern religion and spirituality, ancient cultures, secret knowledge and rituals, and the Arthurian legends. One of the books Maltwood studied closely was The High History of the Holy Graal (translated by Sebastian Evans, originally from a thirteenth-century French manuscript; first published by J. M. Dent and Co., London, 1898). Maltwood became convinced, apparently by circa 1917 (see Thorley in Signs and Secrets), that the Arthurian legends had their setting in the Somerset landscape around Glastonbury. In 1917/1918, John and Katherine Maltwood moved to a small country mansion in Somerset that overlooked some of the landscape zodiac signs Katherine identified. From this vantage point, she continued to study and develop her theory of the local landscape zodiac. In 1935, she published anonymously, in a large-format edition (12 inches by 10 inches), A Guide to Glastonbury’s Temple of the Stars, Its Giant Effigies Described from Air Views Maps and from “The High History of the Holy Graal,” and two years later she published, under the name “K. E. Maltwood,” a large-format supplement, Air View Supplement to A Guide to Glastonbury’s Temple of the Stars, containing reproductions of aerial photographs showing the Zodiac features. In 1950 she published a small-format (8.75 inches by 6.5 inches) revised edition of her Guide. Maltwood describes her concept of the Glastonbury Zodiac as follows: “It is now possible to localize the Arthurian Grail legends by means of photographs taken from the air in conjunction with . . . Ordnance Survey maps of the district between Somerton and Glastonbury, because in this neighborhood of the Lake Villages there are prehistoric earthworks and artificial water courses which have at last given up Merlin’s secret. “Looking down from the air, with the aid of these maps, it can be seen that they delineate enormous effigies resembling Zodiacal creatures arranged in a circle . . ., as we shall find, they differ very little from the constellation figures and the corresponding stars fall within their boundaries. . . It is around these archaic Nature Giants that the Arthurian romance accumulated.” (Maltwood, 1950, p. 1) “William of Malmesbury’s [an English historian of the twelfth century] expression: ‘A Heavenly Sanctuary on Earth,’ where lies King Arthur, might certainly be taken to mean the constellations laid out on Earth, one of which represents King Arthur, for literally this is true. The pre-Christian Temple there was that of the hills and rivers, adapted in such a way as to resemble the Dome of Heaven inverted on Earth. “To understand, one has to study the traditional picture of the northern hemisphere..., and visualize it laid out on the earth, like an enormous garden—it is called in the High History the garden of Eden—and there is the setting of the Arthurian drama, the ‘System of the Round Table.’ ” (Maltwood, 1950, p. 4) “To realize at all the magnitude of the prehistoric ‘Round Table of the Grail,’ one is obliged to think in miles instead of inches, in thousands of years instead of hundreds; for the Temple is ten miles in diameter, it is about 5,000 years old, and this counterpart of the heavens, corresponds with the constellation figures recognized by astronomers today.” (Maltwood, 1950, p. 5) “No doubt our star-gazing ancestors thought by sympathetic magic to realise Heaven on Earth, when they fashioned, what Homer in the Eleventh Book of the Odyssey might have described as a ‘wondrous zone’ . . . ‘where woodland monsters grin’ . . . ‘inimitably wrought with skill divine.” (Maltwood, 1950, p. 5) Honestly, studying Maltwood’s maps and photographs, I have yet to be firmly convinced of the reality of her landscape zodiac. The various signs and constellations, as expressed in the landscape, range from a little over a mile to about five miles long. Not all of them correspond to the “standard” images of the zodiac, and they seem to be composed of a miscellaneous concatenation of ancient landscape features (hills and river courses), medieval constructions, and modern roads and other developments combined with a good dose of imagination, or might we say the insight of an artistic eye? A bird, said to be a phoenix or eagle, with outspread wings a mile and a half across outlined by hills and fields represents Aquarius; Glastonbury Tor is located on the bird’s head. It all seemed to me, at first glance, merely psychological projection onto a chaotic maze, like seeing images in the clouds, or simulacra on the scale of an entire landscape. Whether the Zodiac “objectively” exists in the landscape is, at some levels, perhaps rather beside the point. The case can be made that is does “exist” because people can feel it; people are influenced by it, even unknowingly. As I discussed these notions with Anthony Thorley (and read further about them in his contributions to Signs and Secrets), I gained a different perspective on, and appreciation of, the Glastonbury Zodiac. Each sign of the Zodiac, along with a thirteenth effigy commonly known as the Girt (Great) Dog of Langport (five miles long) located outside of the Zodiac circle, and seemingly guarding the other signs, when explored on the ground appears to embody key elements related to that constellation or sign, such as place names, local legends, and the experiences of those visiting, living, or working there. Thus in the case of the Girt Dog, the fields do indeed appear to outline the head of a canine, and the landscape fills in the body. Earlake is near the ear; Head Drove is near the head; Heals by the feet; Wagg, a long road forming the tail—these are just a few of the examples mentioned by Thorley (see Signs and Secrets). To explain these, Thorley has developed the concept of “Informational Coherence” wherein seemingly random activities of both nature and unrelated persons—farmers, business owners, village planners, and so on—produced together, but non-purposefully, the effigies “discovered” in the landscape. Thorley rejects the idea that there has been a secret conspiracy and covert transmission of a long-term plan to construct the landscape zodiac. But then what could be responsible for the Zodiac? What “ill-understood organizing principle” (to use Thorley’s phrase)? He tentatively suggests a couple of possibilities, which are not mutually exclusive. One idea is the concept of the “sentient landscape” and the “spirit of place.” Does each of the areas of the landscape effigies inherently have aspects, attributes, related to the constellation it represents? Can this influence people, even unconsciously? As but one example of this phenomenon, Thorley tells of a potter who established his shop within the bounds of the sign of Scorpio (in this case, in a landscape zodiac in Scotland) without any realization whatsoever that he was now working within a landscape zodiac. Upon moving there, the potter got the idea of creating dragons with Scorpion-like tails, and soon the Scorpion dragons became his best-selling items. Another idea, which I find particularly intriguing, is described by Thorley as follows: “. . . some years ago, I found myself speculating that if Maltwood’s eureka-type moment or period of incandescent personal realization [when she “discovered the Glastonbury Zodiac”] could be considered as a massive package of information, an intense flash of her consciousness, perhaps it could in some dimension unknown to myself and obscure to rational science, travel in all directions in time and space: forward to affect minds in the future . . ., sideways in the present to affect those around her, and most significantly, backwards in time to affect all those aggregative processes which form to make the Glastonbury Zodiac real.” (pp. 316–317 in Signs and Secrets). In this sense, Katherine Maltwood was not so much the discoverer of the Zodiac but its creator! But, and some would say it is a big BUT, this theory depends on the notion of retro-causality. However, there is good evidence on both a quantum level and on a macroscopic level that retro-causality can occur; the future can influence the past (see review and references in my 2012 book, Forgotten Civilization, pp. 244–249). One might view the Glastonbury Zodiac as a laboratory of deep psychic phenomena that collectively question our common notions of reality and what is even conceivable. This, perhaps, is the ultimate mystery and significance of the obscure and enigmatic series of effigies in the landscape of Somerset. Robert M. Schoch, a full-time faculty member at Boston University, earned his Ph.D. in geology and geophysics at Yale University. His most recent book is Forgotten Civilization: The Role of Solar Outbursts in Our Past and Future (Inner Traditions, 2012). Website: http://www.robertschoch.com. 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