CORRESPONDENCE
Regarding Christopher Columbus

Dear Director, Do you have a small corner in your kind Journal to include a few more words on the discovery of America? Perhaps they will shed a little more light on this obscure debate.
If, as I believe, words have meaning, America was certainly known to the ancients. The primitive Peruvians, for example, before the conquest, called themselves the Aymara, as evidenced by the chronicles of the time, which is merely a corruption by ignorant scribes of the Greek amayros, "in the shadows"; which, moreover, agrees with the word Peru, from the Greek péra-au, "which is at the edge of the light, at sunset." In Greek, the verb amayriskó (present indicative) and amayriskein (in the infinitive) mean "to be in the dark," that is, opposed to light, at the antipodes. In this case, the latter expression can only come from anti-photos, "opposed to light" (and we should say anti-phote) instead of anti-podos, "those who walk with their feet opposite ours," according to lexicographers. The image is on a completely different scale. If so—despite tradition (traditio = treason)—the patronage of Americus Vespuce would be just one legend, among many others...
In the Middle Ages, people already spoke of the island of Antilia, whose name was supposedly given to the so-called Leeward Islands by Christopher Columbus, who supposedly named them in this way, from the Spanish ante-isla, "before the island," or "which precedes the large island," America; this is one version.
Here's another, just as good: Antillia does not come from the Spanish "ante-isla," but from the Greek anti-Helias, "opposite the rising sun." And it was as a result of a bad lesson that the Antilles were called "the Leeward Islands," instead of the Islands under the Levant, which is the exact translation of Anti-Helias, and means the antipodean islands, which were made antipodes. This thesis lacks the consecration of history, I agree; but isn't history often a sort of official pro-populo barbaro communiqué? On this subject, I would pose this simple question to scholars: "What is this famous Island of Thule, which has never been defined by anyone and whose exact location has always been unknown to modern geographers?" Now, what does the word Thule mean? If we ask the Greek, Thule comes from due and Hélé, "the place where the sun sets." Dú is the root of the verb duomai, which means "to lie down while speaking of the stars." Dû Hélé, pronounced with a harsh accent in the Germanic fashion, gave rise to the contraction Tu-lé, "the point opposite the Levant," "under the Levant," or anti-phote. These presumptions are further strengthened by another happy encounter: The ancient primitive peoples of Mexico were called Toltecs, and this name is composed of Thule and teuchos, the natives, the originators or indigenous people of Thule; for the Greek verb Teuchein expresses the action of creating, bringing into being. The name of Mexico itself, originally mejico, is the Greek Mesig-uô, "in the middle of the water," in other words the Island. This word therefore does not come from an ancient indigenous God as is said. There is in all these stories of Spanish brilliance that one would be wrong to accept without control. And the Aztecs? Isn't it, from the Greek astékos, the city dwellers, the polite, civilized people? And the Tarascos, the troublemakers, the revolutionaries, even the invaders, from the Greek Tarachos? Are not all these singular relationships already suggestive? I will add factual articulations to these etymological hypotheses. In Mexico, idol statues identical to those of the Egyptians have been discovered, as well as terracotta vases reminiscent of those of the Etruscans and covered with figures representing Greek, Roman, and Egyptian deities. These documents aptly illustrate the linguistic argument. And all this would be without any significance?
These are, of course, only puns and archaeological coincidences; but didn't the scholar Thiers say: "Give me the meaning of words, and I will rewrite the history of the world?" And didn't Cuvier reconstruct the mastodon with a single one of its bones?
I don't claim to solve the problem. It simply seems to me that this point of view is likely to broaden our horizons and guide minds toward new research. The world thirsts for truth! Please accept, Mr. Director, the assurance of my distinguished regards.

L. P. Dujols. Former Professor of Literature.