Question

For centuries, the mapmakers of the early modern era did not merely plot coastlines; they embroidered them. In the margins of their charts, they drew whales, sea monsters, and wind-gods puffing cheeks of gale. Modern geographers often dismiss these embellishments as naive horror vacui—a fear of empty spaces. Yet to look closely at these maps is to realize they were not products of ignorance. The cartographers knew where the land ended and where their knowledge ceased. By filling the unknown ocean with monsters, they were not pretending to possess geographical facts; rather, they were marking the boundaries of their humility. The beast at the edge of the world was a warning, a visual acknowledgment of the limits of human mastery, rendered with a reverence that we, in our era of satellite precision, have largely forgotten.

Which of the following options best characterizes the author’s attitude toward the early modern cartographers?