‘The end of our foundation is the knowledge of causes, and secret motions of things; and the enlarging of the bounds of human Empire, to the effecting of all things possible.’ - Francis Bacon, the New Atlantis, 1626
Every Wednesday afternoon, the Atlantis Society met in Bloomsbury. They were among the many societies and clubs in the eighteenth century, sipping coffee and sharing ideas. Their most prized possession was a supposed map Mungo McFadden, an explorer, historian and Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries of London, had copied from his travels. They claimed it to be a map of Atlantis that, until proven otherwise, was legitimate.
For Commander Cyrus Chaddester, myths and legends were far away.
He stared out at the empty void that was the English Channel at night. His ship – a good ship – looked like a wasp in its yellow and black colours, its long bow out like a sting ready to attack. Yet for all its beauty and size, Chaddester felt small. His father had left him when he was ten. He never said why, nor did he ever return. These unanswered questions left Chaddester in an unbearable state of longing. Perhaps it was the same longing that lured his father to the Atlantic.
Erasmus Charles was among Balliol College’s most esteemed professors. He taught the Classics, with particular focus on the Greeks. He was a man who, despite studying the past, spoke little of his own.
When the lecture ended, he stacked his books under his arm and walked swifty down the hallway, his long black gown flowing behind him as his buckled shoes tapped on the marble floor. Students cleared the way and professors
doffed their caps as he passed. Returning to his office, he placed his books on one of many shelves that stored his collection. His annotated copy of Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall lay open on his desk, but next to that was a small leather book, worn and torn. He stopped at the sight of it, his stomach turning. He ran his fingers through his oily brown hair and scratched at the sudden itch on his wrist. He lifted the sleeve of his red tailcoat, revealing the scab of burnt flesh which had never healed.
“Are you in pain, sir?” his maid asked, standing at the door with his coffee.
He flinched. He quickly pierced his hands behind his back and invited the maid to place his coffee on his desk. As she did, she saw the leather book. When she picked it up, Erasmus bounded at her at such a speed that she gasped in fright. Erasmus regretted his actions immediately. “Sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“Sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.
There was a deadly silence.
“Mr McFadden wanted you to know that he is giving a lecture at Burlington House and he would like you to attend,” the maid said. “The lecture is on Atlantis.”
For Theodore Huxley, his professor’s silence was too much. Erasmus thought never speaking of his days in the Navy or the obvious burn on his wrist would draw attention away from himself, but Theodore thought it had done the opposite. Why was Erasmus so restrained? And why, when he spoke of Plato’s myth of Atlantis, did he order his students not to speak of it again? He told them that now they knew the myth, there was nothing else for it. He told them of the Atlantis Society and how he was ashamed of it, especially since his best friend was a Fellow.
In his hands, Theodore held a ticket to McFadden's lecture. He was a little embarrassed at how much it had cost him. Perhaps Erasmus would be there. Perhaps he would find out what his professor kept from everyone.
The Society of Antiquaries of London, granted the Royal Charter in 1751 for the advancement of historical knowledge, met in Burlington House in Piccadilly. McFadden was surprised to see so many Fellows of the Royal Society here. Professors and students had come from the universities and among them, he saw his friend Erasmus. They both nodded in acknowledgment. Of course, members of the Atlantis Society were here. Some naval men were here too, among them a commander chatting excitedly to his lieutenant who had clearly been dragged here.
The Society President introduced McFadden, who received a round of applause when he approached the stand.
“Gentlemen, the greatest discovery I made on my travels occurred when my Egyptian guide took me to his friend’s house for dinner. His grandfather, who I assert was at least ninety, wished to show me some ancient relics that apparently only he had. I discovered that these relics consisted of old books which were not written in any language I had seen before. I made copies of the text, which are being passed around now.
"Then, he showed me the most spectacular compass I had ever seen. It was pure gold, its rim and azimuth light blue. Carved at the back was a trident with wings growing from it, rising from the ocean. This compass, he said, was made by the Atlanteans. He asked me to look into his eyes, and I did. They were icy blue, almost grey. He was Atlantean. His name was Hesperus.
"This is not the first time you have heard me rave about Atlantis and you have seen me show other relics and documents. Hesperus is not the first person to call themselves Atlantean, but he is the first to warn me that we must be wary of the place, for it does indeed exist.
" After the tsunami engulfed much of their land, they are now but an island, but do not be fooled! We call ourselves enlightened, but we are not enlightened until we have found Atlantis and brought them to their senses. They have a navy and an army that could threaten our standing in the world, so we must form diplomatic relations and keep them from France’s influence.
"We must settle this mystery once and for all. If Atlantis is real, it will be the discovery of the century. If it is not, we can put my claims to rest, ultimately ending the cult fascination that is the myth of Atlantis.”
With that, he displayed the map the Atlantis Society held so dear. Burlington House gasped and after much passing around, observation and argument, it landed in the hands of the Admiralty.
Nobody knew what to make of McFadden’s lecture, but it could only be proved or disproved if an expedition to Atlantis was proposed. The Admiralty wanted to send a ship full of diplomats to settle any grievances. The Royal Society wanted to send astronomers and botanists over to investigate this new land. The Society of Antiquaries believed they were the authority, as it was McFadden who had put the suggestion forward. The universities wanted to send scholars over, but to the surprise of everyone, Erasmus Charles of Balliol stepped forward and said that if a scholar was to go, it would be him. He presented the leather book to the Admiralty which, upon inspection, revealed to be an account of a voyage.
In 1765, a ship called the Vengeance left for the Atlantic, commanded by Captain Roman Chaddester, the father of Cyrus Chaddester.
The first lieutenant was Erasmus Charles, who logged every detail, including when a foreign ship attacked the Vengeance and set it alight, giving Erasmus his burns. The attacking ship’s flag bore the same image McFadden described on the back of the compass. Erasmus and the other survivors abandoned ship and sailed to the Colonies on a small boat where Erasmus caught a fever that might have killed him, were it not for the kindness of the Governor of Massachusetts.
The purpose of the voyage had been to discover Atlantis, an embarrassing failure the Admiralty chose not to mention. “Atlantis is there,” Erasmus declared to the Admiralty. “I have no desire to relive my experience, but no other scholar knows the place like I do. I know what mistakes Captain Chaddester made, and I know how we can get there in peace.”
“If you are willing, Professor, we will put you on the voyage,” an admiral replied, leaning back in his chair. “But Cyrus Chaddester has requested command.”
Of course he had. “Nobody else offered?”
“Chaddester was most keen.”
The other admirals grunted.
Chaddester had not requested, but pleaded. The Admiralty accepted to keep him happy, but also to get him off British shores: he had been in trouble far too much while he was off duty.
“And if I may, Admiral, I would like to take a student with me,” Erasmus added.
“Theodore Huxley, the top of my class.”
“Very well.”
“I believe it is right that Mr McFadden comes along,” another admiral intervened. “Burlington House will be pleased.”
“Indeed,” the first admiral said with a nod. “Professor Charles, do you have any further questions?”
“When do we leave?”
Written by Ciara Griffiths, 3rd Year Philosophy, Issue 9 Myths, Fairytales and Legends, Autumn 2022.
Illustration by Jasmine Fry.
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