
Mermaids and Tritons in the Age of Reason
For much of the eighteenth century, Western intellectuals chased after tritons and mermaids. Vaughn Scribner follows the hunt, revealing how humanityâs supposed aquatic ancestors became wondrous screens on which to project theories of geographical, racial, and taxonomical difference.
Published
September 29, 2021
Hand-coloured engraving from 1817 by John Paas, âMermaids Exhibited Successively in the Years 1758, 1775, & 1795â â Source.
On May 6, 1736, the polymath Benjamin Franklin informed readers of his Pennsylvania Gazette of a âSea Monsterâ recently spotted in Bermuda, âthe upper part of whose Body was in the Shape and about the Bigness of a Boy of 12 Years old, with long black Hair; the lower Part resembled a Fishâ. Apparently, the creatureâs âhuman Likenessâ inspired his captors to let it live. A 1769 issue of the Providence Gazette similarly reported that crew members of an English ship off the coast of Brest, France, watched as âa sea monster, like a manâ circled their ship, at one point viewing âfor some time the figure that was in our prow, which represented a beautiful womanâ. The captain, the pilot and âthe whole crew, consisting of two and thirty menâ verified this tale.1
The above examples are quite representative of what an early modern Briton would have found in the newspapers. That these interactions were even reported tells us much. Intelligent men like Benjamin Franklin considered such encounters legitimate enough to spend the time and money to print in their widely read newspapers. By doing so, printers and authors helped sustain a narrative of curiosity surrounding these wondrous creatures. As a Londoner sat down with his paper (perhaps in the aptly named Mermaid Tavern) and read of yet another instance of a mermaid or triton sighting, his doubt might have transformed into curiosity.2
Philosophersâ debates over mermaids and tritons in this period reveal their willingness to embrace wonder in their larger quest to understand the origins of humankind. Naturalists used a wide range of methodologies to critically study these odd hybrids and, in turn, assert the reality of merpeople as evidence of humanityâs aquatic roots. As with other creatures they encountered in their global travels, European philosophers utilized various theories â including those of racial, biological, taxonomical, and geographic difference â to understand merpeopleâs and, by proxy, humansâ place in the natural world.3
âA âcurious and surprising Nymph...taken in the Year 1784, in the Gulph of Stanchioâ, and exhibited at the Great Room, Spring Gardens, London, in 1795.â (Reproduced with permission of London Metropolitan Archives, City of London.)
Westernersâ combination of curiosity and imperial expansion is well reflected in the cultural relevance of merpeople. Wealthy individuals and philosophical societies funded naturalistsâ, botanistsâ, and cartographersâ expeditions to the New World in the hope that they might broaden humanityâs understanding of the world and their place in it. In an expanding number of investigations into mermaids and tritons, naturalists demonstrated a growing penchant for the wondrous. They also, importantly, revealed how the process of scientific research had drastically changed over the last two hundred years. Rather than relying strictly on ancient texts and hearsay, eighteenth-century naturalists mustered various âmodernâ resources â global correspondence networks, erudite publication opportunities, transatlantic travel, specimen procedures, and learned societies â to rationally examine what many considered fantastical. Thus, a growing body of gentlemen both carried on and eschewed the supposed narrative of enlightened logic by applying well-known, valid research methods to mysterious merpeople. In doing so, eighteenth-century philosophers such as Cotton Mather, Peter Collinson, Samuel Fallours, Carl Linnaeus, and Hans Sloane complicated our â and their contemporariesâ â conceptions of science, nature, and humanity. The smartest men in the Western world, in short, spent much of the eighteenth century chasing merpeople around the globe.4
The Royal Society of London proved key in this endeavour, acting as both a repository and producer of legitimate scientific investigation. Sir Robert Sibbald, a respected Scottish physician and geographer, well understood the Societyâs desire for ground-breaking research. On November 29, 1703 he wrote to Sir Hans Sloane, the president of the Society, to inform the London gentleman that Sibbald and his colleagues had been recording an account of Scotlandâs amphibious creatures, along with accompanying copper-plate images, which he hoped to dedicate to the Royal Society. Realizing the Societyâs interest in the most up-to-date studies, Sibbald told Sloane that he had âadded several accounts and the figures of some Amphibious Aquatic Animals, and of some of mixed Kinds, as the Mermaids or Syrens seen sometimes in our Seasâ.5 Here were two leading thinkers of the eighteenth century exchanging erudite missives on merpeople.
Illustration of âPesce Donnaâ from Giovanni Antonio Cavazzi's Istorica descrizione deâ treâ regni Congo, Matamba, et Angola (An historical description of three kingdoms: Congo, Matamba, and Angola), 1687 â Source.
On July 5, 1716, Cotton Mather also penned a letter to the Royal Society of London. This was not odd, as the Boston naturalist often detailed his scientific findings. Yet this letterâs subject was somewhat curious â titled âa Tritonâ, the missive demonstrated Matherâs sincere belief in the existence of merpeople. The Royal Society of London fellow began by explaining that, until recently, he considered merpeople no more real than âcentaurs or sphynxesâ. Mather found myriad historical accounts of merpeople, ranging from the ancient Greek Demostratus, who witnessed a âDried Triton . . . at ye Town of Tanagraâ, to Pliny the Elderâs assertions of mermaids and tritonsâ existence. Yet because âPlinyisums are of no great Reputation in our Dayesâ, Mather noted, he passed off much of these ancient accounts as false. Matherâs âsuspicionsâ of the existence of such creatures âhad got more Strength givenâ, however, when he read sundry ancient accounts via well-respected European thinkers like Boaistuau and Bellonius.6
Still, Mather was not totally convinced, at least until February 22, 1716, when âthree honest and credible men, coming in a boat from Milford to Brainford (Connecticut)â, encountered a triton. Having heard this news at first hand, Mather could only exclaim, ânow at last my credulity is entirely conquered, and I am compelled now to believe the existence of a tritonâ. As the creature fled the men, âthey had a full view of him and saw his head, and face, and neck, and shoulders, and arms, and elbows, and breast, and back all of a human shape . . . [the] lower parts were those of a fish, and colored like a mackerelâ. Though this âtritonâ escaped, it convinced Mather of merpeopleâs existence. Maintaining that his story was not false, Mather promised the Royal Society that he would continue to relay âall New occurrences of Natureâ.7
An illustration fo the âMartinique Tritonâ from The Universal Magazine of Knowledge and Pleasure, vol. XXIX (1761) â Source.
The famous naturalist Carl Linnaeus also threw himself into investigating mermaids and tritons. Having read newspaper articles detailing mermaid sightings in NykoÌping, Sweden, Linnaeus sent a letter to the Swedish Academy of Science in 1749 urging a hunt in which to âcatch this animal alive or preserved in spiritsâ. Linnaeus admitted, âscience does not have a certain answer of if the existence of mermaids is a fact or is a fable or imagination of some ocean fishâ. Yet in his mind, the reward outweighed the risk, as the discovery of such a rare phenomenon âcould result in one of the biggest discoveries that the Academy could possibly achieve and for which the whole world should thank the Academyâ. Perhaps these creatures could reveal humankindâs origins? For Linnaeus â world-renowned for his contributions to taxonomical classification â this ancient mystery must be solved.8
The Dutch artist Samuel Fallours also claimed to have discovered merpeople in a distant land, and in doing so set off a decades-long debate that spanned continents and media types. Fallours lived in Ambon, Indonesia, from 1706 to 1712 while serving as a clergyâs assistant for the Dutch East India Company. During Falloursâ tenure on a âSpice Islandâ, he drew various representations of native flora and fauna. One image happened to depict a mermaid, or âsirenneâ. Falloursâ âsirenneâ closely resembled the classic depiction of a mermaid, with long, sea-green hair, a pleasant face and a bare midsection that turned into a blue/green tail at the waist. This mermaidâ s skin, however, was dark (with a slight greenish tinge), implying a similarity with the local indigenous population.9
In the notes that accompanied Falloursâ original drawing, the Dutch artist contended that he âhad this Syrene alive for four days in my house at Ambon in a tub of waterâ. Falloursâ son had brought it to him from the nearby island of Buru âwhere he purchased it from the blacks for two ells of clothâ. Eventually, the whimpering creature died of hunger, ânot wishing to take any nourishment, neither fishes nor shell fishes, nor mosses or grassesâ. After the mermaidâs death, Fallours âhad the curiosity to lift its fins in front and in back and [found] it was shaped like a womanâ. Fallours claimed that the specimen was subsequently relayed to Holland and lost. The story of this Ambon siren, however, had only just begun.10
Watercolour of a âSirenneâ by Samuel Fallours, ca. 1706â1712 â Source.
âSirenneâ, after Fallours, and âEcrevisseâ (crayfish) from the second edition of Louis Renardâs Poissons, ecrevisses et crabes (1754) â Source.
Years before Louis Renard, a French-born book dealer living in Amsterdam, even published a version of Falloursâ âsirenneâ in his own Poissons, ecrevisses et crabes (1719), Falloursâ images had already enjoyed wide distribution. Yet, because of the unusually bright colours and fantastic creatures represented in Falloursâ drawings, many doubted their accuracy and veracity. Renard was especially worried about the validity of Falloursâ sirenne, exclaiming, âI am even afraid the monster represented under the name of mermaid . . . needs to be rectified.â11
Philosophers found both promise and disgust in Falloursâ painting and the subsequent dialogue that Renard initiated with his letters. In his preface to the 1754 version of Renardâs Poissons, ecrevisses et crabes, the Dutch collector and director of the menageries and âNatuur-en Kunstcabinetten des Stadhoudersâ Aernout Vosmaer called objections to merpeopleâs reality âweakâ, and contended that âthis monster, if we must call it by this name (although I do not see the reason for it)â was simply able to avoid humansâ traps better than any other creature (because of its hybrid nature) and was thus rarely seen. Because of merpeopleâs biological similarity to humans, furthermore, Vosmaer argued that they were âmore subject to decay after death than the body of other fishesâ. Such a lack of preservation not only diminished sightings, it also went towards explaining the lack of full specimens in cabinets of curiosities.12
By the mid-eighteenth century, a growing number of physicians not only believed in the existence of merpeople, but also began to wonder what sort of ramifications such creatures might have for understanding humanityâs origins and future. As G. Robinson noted in The Beauties of Nature and Art Displayed in a Tour Through the World (1764), âthough the generality of natural historians regard mermen and mermaids as fabulous animals . . . as far as the testimony of many writers for the reality of such creatures may be depended upon, so much reason there appears for believing their existence.â The Reverend Thomas Smith took Robinsonâs contention to an even more definitive note four years later, asserting that while âthere are many persons indeed who doubt the reality of mermen and mermaids . . . yet there seems to be sufficient testimony to establish it beyond disputeâ. But the problem remained: men like Robinson and Smith could rely only upon ancient, often ridiculed sightings or tenuous hypotheses for their âproofâ. They needed scientific research to back up their claims, and they got it.13
Two especially important articles â each approaching merpeople through unique scientific methodology â appeared in the Gentlemanâs Magazine between 1759 and 1775. The first piece, published in December 1759, accompanied a plate image of a âSyren, or Mermaid . . . said to have been shewn in the fair of St Germains [Paris]â in 1758. The author noted that this siren was âdrawn from life . . . by the celebrated Sieur Gautierâ. Jacques-Fabien Gautier, a French printer and member of the Dijon Academy, was widely recognized for his skill in printing accurate images of scientific subjects. Attaching Gautierâs name to the print garnered immediate credibility, even for such a strange image; but even without Gautierâs name attached to it, the print and its accompanying text were distinguished by their modern scientific methodology. Gautier had apparently interacted with the living creature, finding that it was âabout two feet long, alive, and very active, sporting about in the vessel of water in which it was kept with great seeming delight and agilityâ.14
Colour aquatint of Jacques Fabien Gautier d'Agoty's illustration of a mermaid, ca. 1758 â Source.
Gautier consequently recorded that âits positions, when it was at rest, was always erect. It was a female, and the features were hideously uglyâ. As displayed in detail by the accompanying print, Gautier found its skin âharsh, the ears very large, and the back-parts and tail were covered with scalesâ. According to the image, this was not the mermaid that had long graced cathedrals throughout Europe. Nor did it match the description relayed by so many other naturalists and discoverers throughout history. Where most had seen a striking female form, distinguished by flowing blue-green hair, Gautierâs mermaid was completely bald with âvery largeâ ears and âhideously uglyâ features. Gautierâs siren was also much smaller than traditional mermaids at only sixty centimetres (two feet) tall. More than anything, Gautierâs mermaid reflected the mid-eighteenth-century approach to studying the wondrous aspects of nature: the Frenchman employed well-respected scientific techniques â in this case a close inspection of the creatureâs anatomy and an accurate accompanying drawing (much resembling those of other illustrated creatures at the time) â to display as reality what many still considered fantasy.15
Scholars used the Gautier publication to reflect upon the legitimacy of merpeople. An anonymous contributor to the June 1762 issue of the Gentlemanâs Magazine exclaimed that Gautierâs image âseems to establish the fact incontrovertibly, that such monsters do exist in natureâ. But this author had further evidence. An April 1762 edition of the Mercure de France reported that in June the previous year two girls playing on a beach on the island of Noirmoutier (just off the southwest coast of France) âdiscovered, in a kind of natural grotto, an animal of a human form, leaning on its handsâ. In a rather morbid turn of events, one of the girls stabbed the creature with a knife and watched as it âgroaned like a human personâ. The two girls then proceeded to cut off the poor creatureâs hands âwhich had fingers and nails quite formed, with webs between the fingersâ, and sought the aid of the islandâs surgeon, who, upon seeing the creature, recorded:
it was as big as the largest man . . . its skin was white, resembling that of a drowned person . . . it had the breasts of a full-chested woman; a flat nose; a large mouth; the chin adorned with a kind of beard, formed of fine shells; and over the whole body, tufts of similar white shells. It had the tail of a fish, and at the extremity of it a kind of feet.
Such a story â when verified by a trained and trusted surgeon â only further proved Gautierâs research. For a growing number of eighteenth-century Britons, merpeople existed, bore a striking resemblance to humans, and needed to be studied at length.16
In May 1775 the Gentlemanâs Magazine published an account of a mermaid âtaken in the Gulph of Stanchio, in the Archipelago or Aegean Sea, by a merchantman trading to Natoliaâ in August 1774. Like Gautierâs 1759 âsyrenâ, this specimen was drawn and described in detail. Yet the author also distanced himself from Gautier, noting that his mermaid âdiffers materially from that shewn at the fair of St Germaine, some years agoâ. In an especially interesting turn of events, the author utilized a comparison of the two mermaid prints to speculate on issues of race and biology, contending that âthere is reason to believe, that there are two distinct genera, or, more properly, two species of the same genus, the one resembling the African blacks, the other the European whitesâ. While Gautierâs siren âhad, in every respect, the countenance of a Negroâ, the author found that his mermaid displayed âthe features and complexion of an European. Its face is like that of a young female; its eyes a fine light blue; its nose small and handsome; its mouth small; its lips thinâ.17
A miscellaneous plate featured in Gentlemanâs Magazine, and Historical Chronicle, vol. XLV (1775). The second illustration depicts the mermaid âtaken in the Gulph of Stanchio" â Source.
Early modern English writers leaned on two stereotypes to commodify and denigrate African female bodies, as the historian Jennifer L. Morgan has shown. First, they âconventionally set the black female figure against one that was white â and thus beautifulâ. Here this 1775 author follows perfectly in line, comparing Gautierâs âNegroâ and âhideously uglyâ mermaid to his own beautiful mermaid with the âfeatures and complexion of an Europeanâ. Second, early modern Europeans concentrated on African womenâs supposed âsexually and reproductively bound savageryâ in order to ultimately turn to âblack women as evidence of a cultural inferiority that ultimately became encoded as racial differenceâ. Not only were naturalists using the science of merpeople to gain a deeper understanding of the natural order of sea creatures, they were also utilizing their interpretations of these mysterious beings to reflect upon humansâ â especially white humansâ â place in an ever-changing racial, biological framework.18
Carl Linnaeus and his student Abraham Osterdam further complicated the narrative of classification and legitimacy. Though the Swedish Academy found nothing in their search for Linnaeusâ mermaid in 1749, Linnaeus and Osterdam took matters into their own hands by publishing a dissertation on the Siren lacertina (The Lizard Siren) in 1766. Having detailed a long list of mermaid sightings throughout history in the initial pages of this dissertation, they next relayed myriad instances of âmarvelous animals and amphibiansâ that closely resembled creatures of lore and, consequently, made classification tricky. Ultimately, they judged this mermaid-like creature âworthy of an animal, which should be shown to those who are curious, because it is a new formâ. The âfather of classificationâ had apparently discovered a âworthyâ piece of the natural puzzle, and it linked humans (even if distantly) to animals of the sea. The Siren lacertina also, importantly, further blurred the lines of classification that Linnaeus had so proudly developed, suggesting that perhaps human beings might find some distant relation to amphibious creatures.19
Illustration of âSiren lacertinaâ and âSiren Bartholiniâ from Carl Linnaeus' Amoenitates academicae, vol. VII (1789) â Source.
Eighteenth-century philosophersâ investigations of merpeople represented both the endurance of wonder and the emergence of rational science during the Enlightenment period. Once resting at the core of myth and on the very fringes of scientific research, now mermaids and tritons were steadily catching philosophersâ attention. Initially such research was relegated to newspaper articles, brief mentions in travellersâ narratives, or hearsay, but by the second half of the eighteenth century, naturalists began to approach merpeople with modern scientific methodology, dissecting, preserving and drawing these mysterious creatures with the utmost rigour. By the close of the eighteenth century, mermaids and tritons emerged as some of the most useful specimens for understanding humanityâs marine origins. The possibility (or, for some, reality) of merpeopleâs existence forced many philosophers to reconsider previous classification measures, racial parameters, and even evolutionary models. As more European thinkers believed â or at least entertained the possibility â that âsuch monsters do exist in natureâ, Enlightenment philosophers merged the wondrous and rational to understand the natural world and humanityâs place in it.
Vaughn Scribner is associate professor of British American history at the University of Central Arkansas. He is the author of Inn Civility: Urban Taverns and Early American Civil Society (2019) and Merpeople: A Human History (2020). He is currently at work on his third book â Under Alien Skies: The Climate of War in Revolutionary America â which will be the first monograph-length environmental history of the American Revolution.