CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS
His Life and His Work

THE LOTTO PORTRAIT OF COLUMBUS.

“MAKERS OF AMERICA”

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS

His Life and His Work

BY
CHARLES KENDALL ADAMS, LL.D.

PRESIDENT OF CORNELL UNIVERSITY

NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1892

Copyright, 1892,
By Dodd, Mead and Co.
All rights reserved.

University Press:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.

TO
J. J. HAGERMAN,
Nobleman and Friend,
THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
By the Author.

PREFACE.

In this little volume I have made an attempt to present in popular form the results of the latest researches in regard to the life and work of Columbus.

While constant use has been made of the original authorities, it has been my effort to interpret the conflicting statements with which these sources abound, in the spirit of modern criticism. The principal authorities used have been the Letters and the Journal of Columbus, the History of the Admiral purporting to be by his son Fernando, the histories of the time by Las Casas, Bernaldez, Oviedo, Peter Martyr, and Herrera, and the invaluable collection of documents by Navarrete. Of the greatest importance are the writings of Columbus and Las Casas.

As will appear in the course of the volume, the writings of the Admiral abound in passages that are contradictory or irreconcilable. In the interpretation of conflicting statements, assistance has been received from the numerous writings of Henry Harrisse. The researches of this acute critic in the manuscript records, as well as in the published writings of Italy and Spain, make his works indispensable to a correct understanding of the age of Columbus.

I have not, however, been able to adopt without reservation his views in regard to the work attributed to the son of the Admiral. The force of Harrisse’s reasoning is unquestionable; but, as it seems to me, there is internal evidence that the author of the book, whether Fernando or not, had unusual opportunities for knowledge in regard to the matters about which he wrote. While, therefore, I have used the work with great caution, I have not felt justified in rejecting it as altogether spurious.

The reader will not go far in the perusal of this volume without perceiving that I have endeavoured to emancipate myself from the thraldom of that uncritical admiration in which it has been fashionable to hold the Discoverer, ever since Washington Irving threw over the subject the romantic and bewitching charm of his literary skill. Irving revealed the spirit with which he wrote when he decried what he was pleased to call “that pernicious erudition which busies itself with undermining the pedestals of our national monuments.” Irving’s was not the spirit of modern scholarship. We should seek the truth at whatever hazard. While directed by this motive in the course of all my investigations into the life and work of Columbus, I have tried, on the one hand, to avoid the common error of bringing him to the bar of the present age for trial, and, on the other, not to shrink from judging him in accordance with those canons of justice which are applicable alike to all time.

C. K. A.

Cornell University,
March 10, 1892.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.

CHAPTER I.
EARLY YEARS.

At the northwest corner of the Italian peninsula the coast-line, as it approaches the French border, bends around to the west in such a way as to form a kind of rounded angle, which, according to the fertile fancy of the Greeks, resembles the human knee. It was probably in recognition of this geographical peculiarity that the hamlet established at this point received some centuries before the Christian era the name which has since been evolved into Genoa. The situation is not only one of the most picturesque in Europe, but it is peculiarly adapted to the development of a small maritime city. For many miles it is the only point at which Nature has afforded a good opportunity for a harbor. Its geographical relations with the region of the Alps and the plains of northern Italy seem to have designated it as the natural point where a common desire for gain should bring into profitable relations the trading propensities of the people along the shores of the Mediterranean. During nearly two thousand years the situation was made all the more favourable by the ease with which it might be defended; for the range of mountains, which encircles it at a distance of only a few miles, made it easy for the inhabitants to protect themselves against the assaults of their enemies.

The favouring conditions thus afforded gave to Genoa early in the Christian era a commercial prestige of some importance. The turbulence of the Middle Ages made rapidity of growth quite impossible; but in the time of the Crusades this picturesque city received a large share of that impulse which gave so much life to Venice and the other maritime towns of Italy. Like other cities of its kind, it was filled with seafaring men. It is easy to believe that the boys who grew up in Genoa during the centuries of the Crusades and immediately after, had their imaginations and memories filled to overflowing with accounts of such wonderful adventures as those which, about that time, found expression in the writings of Marco Polo and John de Mandeville. The tales of seafaring adventurers always have a wonderful attraction for boys; and we can well imagine that the yarns spun by the returning sailors of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries had an altogether peculiar and exceptional fascination.

It was probably in this city of Genoa that Christopher Columbus was born. It is certain that his parents lived there at the middle of the fifteenth century. Whether his father had been in Genoa very many years is doubtful; for there is one bit of record that seems to indicate his moving into the city at some time between 1448 and 1451. That the ancestors of the family had lived in that vicinity ever since the twelfth or thirteenth century may be regarded as certain. But beyond this fact very little rests upon strict historical evidence. This uncertainty, springing as it does from the fact that the name Columbus appears very often in the records of northern Italy during the century before the birth of Christopher, has brought into controversy a multitude of importunate claimants. If a kind of selfish pride was indicated by the fact that—

“Seven cities claimed the Homer dead,
In which the living Homer begged his bread,”—

the same characteristic of human nature was shown in northern Italy in more than twofold measure; for no less than sixteen Italian towns have tried to lift themselves into greater importance by setting up a claim to the distinction of having been the birthplace of the Great Discoverer. But these several claims have not succeeded in producing any conclusive evidence. The question is still in some doubt. At least twice in his writings Columbus speaks of himself as having been born at Genoa; and he was generally recognized as a Genoese by his contemporaries. But his parents seem to have been somewhat migratory in their habits. The records show that the father of Christopher was the owner of some property in several of the towns along the foot of the Alps. Besides his other estates, which for the most part came from his wife, he had a house in one of the suburbs of the city of Genoa, and also one in the city itself. Within a few years the Marquis Marcello Staglieno, a learned Genoese antiquary, has established the fact that No. 37 Vico Dritto Ponticello in Genoa was owned by Dominico Columbus, the father of Christopher, during the early years of Christopher’s life. But it has not yet been shown by any documentary evidence that he ever lived there. The ownership of this house, and of one in the suburbs, establishes a very strong probability that in one of them Christopher Columbus was born. It cannot be said, however, that the exact spot has been determined with certainty; and in view of the conflicting evidence, Genoa is to be regarded as the place of his birth only in that broad sense which would include a considerable number of the surrounding dependencies. Bernaldez, Peter Martyr, Oviedo, and Las Casas speak of his birthplace as being, not the city, but the province of Genoa.

The original authorities, moreover, are as conflicting in regard to time as in regard to place. The most definite statement we have is that of Bernaldez, the contemporary and friend as well as the historian of the discoverer. Columbus at one time was an inmate of the house of Bernaldez, and hence it would seem that the historian had good opportunities for ascertaining the truth. But the information he gives in regard to the date of Columbus’s birth is only inferential, and is far from satisfactory. He says that the Admiral died in 1506, “at the age of seventy, a little more or a little less.” This is the statement which has led Humboldt, Navarrete, and Irving, as well as other careful writers, to believe that the date of his birth should be fixed at 1436. But the acceptance of this date is involved in serious difficulties. The discoverer, it is true, nowhere tells us his exact age; but frequently in his writings he not only mentions the number of years he had followed the sea, but he says he began his nautical career at the age of fourteen. These several statements, put together, point very definitely and consistently to a date nearly or quite ten years later than that indicated by Bernaldez. It cannot be claimed that the statements of Columbus are so exact as to be absolutely free from doubt; but in the absence of any record of his birth, they are at least entitled to careful consideration. In a letter written in 1503 the Admiral says that he was thirty-eight when he entered the service of Spain. As he first went to Spain in 1484 or 1485, we are obliged to infer that the service he referred to began either in that year or at a later period. This would indicate that he was born in 1446 or later. In 1501, moreover, he wrote that it was forty years since at the age of fourteen he entered upon a seafaring life. This, too, would point to about 1447 as the date of his birth. These, and other statements of a similar nature, are at least enough to justify the inquiry whether the error is probably with Columbus or with Bernaldez. In the case of the historian, the very phrase “seventy, a little more or a little less,” carries with it an implication of uncertainty. It seemed to imply that the author judged of the age of Columbus simply from his appearance. Now, there is abundant evidence that the superabounding anxieties and perplexities of his career had the natural effect of making him prematurely old. We have the statement of his son that his hair was gray at the age of thirty; and it is easy to believe that the perplexing vicissitudes of his career deepened and intensified the evidences of age with unnatural rapidity. If, as we have so often and so justly heard, it is anxiety and perplexity that bring on premature age and decay, surely Columbus of all men must have been old long before he reached the goal of threescore and ten. In view of all these facts, it is probable that the conjecture of Bernaldez was incorrect, though very naturally so, and that the date indicated by the figures of Columbus himself is the one that is entitled to most credence. But all we can say on the subject is that Christopher Columbus was probably born in or about the year 1446. Harrisse, who has scrutinized all the evidence with characteristic acumen, has reached the conclusion that Columbus was born between the 25th of March, 1446, and the 20th of March, 1447.

He was the eldest son of Dominico Columbus and Susannah Fontanarossa, his wife. The other children were Bartholomew and Giacomo, or, as the Spanish call it, Diego, and a sister, of whom nothing of importance is known. The kith and kin of the family for some generations devoted themselves to the humble vocation of wool-combers. The property of the family, of which at the time Columbus was born there was barely enough for a modest competency, appears to have come chiefly from the mother. That the father was a man of exceptional energy, is evinced by the vigour with which he undertook and carried on the various enterprises with which he was connected. In his business, however, he was only moderately prosperous; and so the family was obliged to content itself with a small income.

The early life of Columbus is still quite thickly enshrouded with uncertainty. His education included a reading knowledge of Latin, but his training could have been neither comprehensive nor thorough. Many of the historians, resting upon the statement of Fernando Columbus, assert that he spent a year in the study of cosmogony at the University of Pavia. But the statement is inherently improbable, and rests upon evidence that is altogether inadequate. His father was not in condition to send him to the university without inconvenience. It was the custom of those times for the son to be trained for the vocation of the father. Such a training the young Christopher had, and a formal knowledge of geography, or cosmogony, as the study was then more generally called, would not have added much to his chances of business success. If he went to the university at all, he must have concluded his studies before he was fourteen. Pavia at the time afforded no special advantages for the prosecution of this study,—indeed, it cannot now be discovered that it possessed any advantages whatever. On the contrary, that celebrated university was devoted with singular exclusiveness to the teaching of philosophy, law, and medicine. There is no evidence in the records of the university that Columbus was ever there. The explorer himself, though he often refers to his early studies, nowhere intimates that he was ever at the university. It was not till more than fifty years after the death of Columbus that his son made the statement on which all subsequent assertions on the subject rest for authority. That the explorer was ever at the university is overwhelmingly improbable.

We know, however, from the best of evidence that he early became interested in geographical studies. His father’s business does not seem to have been very prosperous,—at least, we find him about this time selling out his little property in Genoa and establishing himself at Savona. Meantime, the youthful Christopher found himself yielding to the strong current which in those years carried so many of the Genoese into a life of maritime adventure. If our conjecture in regard to the time of his birth is correct, it was about 1460 when he took his first voyage. From that initiative experience for about ten years, that is to say until 1470, we have only glimpses here and there of the events of his life. Nor can we regard the details of this experience as important, except as they throw light upon the development of his intelligence and character. Fortunately for this purpose evidence is not altogether wanting. Bits of information have been picked up here and there, which, though it is impossible to weave them very confidently into a connected whole, still show, in a general way, the nature of the training he received during those important years. If we condense into a useful form all that is positively known of his life during the ten years from the time he was fourteen until he was twenty-four, we shall perhaps conclude that there are only three results that are worthy of note.

The first is the fact that he had considerable maritime experience of a very turbulent nature. There is some reason to believe that he accompanied the unsuccessful expedition of John of Anjou against Naples in 1459. However this may have been, it is certain that he joined several of the expeditions of the celebrated corsairs bearing the same family name of Columbus. Modern eulogists of the great discoverer have hesitated to write the ugly word which indicates the nature of the business in which these much-dreaded fleets were engaged; but the state papers of the time uniformly refer to the elder of these commanders as “the Pirate Columbus.” To the younger they also refer in no more complimentary terms. Fernando Columbus is authority for the statement that his father accompanied the celebrated expedition that fought the great battle off Cape St. Vincent. But the statement is a curious illustration of the necessity of accepting the assurances of this historian with extreme caution. He says that it was by escaping from the wreck of the fleet that his father came for the first time to his new home in Portugal. Now, we know that the battle alluded to did not take place until 1485, the year after Columbus left Portugal and went to Spain; and as he was otherwise occupied ever after he reached Spanish soil, it is not possible that the young navigator was even with the fleet during the engagement. We know, moreover, that he moved to Lisbon before 1473.

But the evidence is conclusive that the Admiral had accompanied the piratical fleets on several former expeditions. The records of Venice show that a decree was passed against the elder pirate Columbus, July 20, 1469, and another against the younger on the 17th of March, 1470. Although these fulminations did not put an end to this peculiar warfare, they are of interest in this connnection as showing the school in which Columbus received a considerable part of his early nautical training and experience.

There may be some doubt as to how much importance should be attached to the circumstantial statement of Fernando in regard to his father’s connection with these celebrated freebooters. The narrative certainly contains some irreconcilable contradictions; but although Fernando may have been mistaken in the details, he can hardly have been mistaken in the fact that his father accompanied several of these expeditions. A matter of that kind could hardly fail to have been talked about in the presence of the children. The boys may have received erroneous impressions in reference to details. As time went on, it was naturally easy for events with which the father was definitely connected to become confused with those with which he had nothing whatever to do. But the great fact of his connection with the fleet, of his experience on the piratical ships, can hardly have been an invention of the son. There were two pirates by the name of Columbus,—the younger being, according to one authority, the son, according to another, the nephew of the elder. Fernando gives us to understand distinctly that his father was engaged in the service of both. He moreover considers this so much a matter of pride that he endeavours to establish the fact of a relationship between the two families. The nature of the school in which the young Columbus received a part of his training may be inferred by the fact that the younger of the corsairs in the course of a few years captured as many as eighty fleets,—a part of them in the Mediterranean, and a part in the open sea. During a large portion of the latter half of the fifteenth century, these daring corsairs were the dread of every fleet against whom they were employed.

There is also evidence of another schooling of a somewhat similar nature. During the fifteenth century the Portuguese were engaged in the slave-trade on the coast of Africa; and we are told that Columbus sailed several times with them to the coast of Guinea as if he had been one of them.

It must have been during this period also that the events occurred which Columbus described in a letter written to one of the Spanish monarchs in 1495. He says,—

“King René (whom God has taken to himself) sent me to Tunis to capture the galley ‘Fernandina.’ Arriving at the island of San Pedro in Sardinia, I learned that there were two ships and a caracca with the galley, which so alarmed the crew that they resolved to proceed no farther, but to go to Marseilles for another vessel and a larger crew. Upon which, being unable to force their inclinations, I apparently yielded to their wish, and, having first changed the points of the compass, spread all sail (for it was evening), and at daybreak we were within the cape of Carthagena, when all believed for a certainty that we were nearing Marseilles.”

This incident shows that the schooling had given him a full competency of intrepidity. It also shows that the ethics of the school had had the natural effect of relieving him of all unnecessary scruples of conscience.

Another voyage of a very different nature was probably made at a little later period. Unfortunately we are indebted for our knowledge of it entirely to Fernando. This is the celebrated voyage to the north, of which so much has been made in setting up the claim that Columbus was indebted for his idea of America to information obtained in Iceland. It would be a great satisfaction to know just what occurred in the course of that voyage; but this now seems impossible. The only record we have of the event is that contained in a letter of Columbus quoted by Fernando. The letter is not now known to be in existence; but the event alluded to seems to have taken place in the year 1477, about four or five years after Columbus went to Lisbon, and seven years before he went to Spain.

Columbus is quoted as saying that he “sailed one hundred leagues beyond the island of Tile, the south part of which was distant from the equinoctial line seventy-three leagues, and not sixty-three, as some have asserted; neither does it lie within the line which includes the west of that referred to by Ptolemy, but is much more westerly. To this island, which is as large as England, the English, especially from Bristol, came with their merchandise. At the time he was there, the sea was not frozen, but the tides were so great as to rise and fall twenty-six fathoms.”

Nothing more is known of this voyage than is contained in this letter; but notwithstanding the gross inaccuracies of the statement, it seems sufficient ground for believing that Columbus visited Iceland, or at least went beyond it. The size of the island indicates that it could have been no other. Whether he landed there, and if so, whether he obtained from the natives any knowledge of the continent lying far to the west and southwest, must, perhaps, forever be a matter of mere conjecture. It is, however, hardly probable that in the year 1477 Columbus would go to Iceland without making inquiries in regard to lands lying beyond. The Icelanders had long been the great explorers of the north. As we shall presently see, Columbus had already received the famous letter of Toscanelli, in which the practicability of reaching Asia by sailing due west was fully set forth; and we know in other ways that the mind of Columbus was already fully imbued with the idea of the westward voyage of discovery. It is certain, moreover, that the Icelanders could have given him considerable valuable information. The voyages that had been made by the Norwegians from time to time during the eleventh and twelfth centuries must have been known at least by the more intelligent of the people of Iceland. It seems highly improbable, moreover, that Columbus, already thirsting for more geographical knowledge, would visit such an island without availing himself of every opportunity of securing further information.

But on the other hand, we must not exaggerate the importance of this conjecture. There is no evidence whatever that he even landed. In all of the writings of Columbus there is nowhere any hint of any knowledge gained from these sources; and this very important truth should not be lost sight of in the weighing of probabilities. In view of all the facts, it seems hardly possible that Columbus can have gained from this expedition anything more than at best a somewhat vague confirmation of the ideas and purposes that had already taken definite shape in his mind.

Another fact worthy of note during these earlier years was his vocation during the intervals between his voyages. He seems to have interlarded his more or less piratical expeditions on the sea with the gentle experiences of a bookseller and map-maker on the land. The art of printing had but recently been invented, and few books had been issued from the press; but there was some trade in books for all that. There is abundant evidence that this youthful enthusiast, at the period of his life between fifteen and twenty-four, availed himself of whatever knowledge came in his way in regard to the subject that was beginning to fill and monopolize his mind. During the fifteenth century, as hereafter we shall have occasion to see, a large number of books on geography became generally known. Many of the classics, after lying dormant for a thousand years, sprang suddenly into life; and it is quite within the scope of a reasonable historical imagination to conjecture that, even during his years at Genoa, many of the leisure hours of what could hardly have been a very absorbing vocation as a bookseller were spent in gaining such knowledge as was possible concerning the shape and size of the earth. It would be out of place in this connection to consider details; it is enough to know that even in his earliest writings on the subject, he alluded freely to the geographical writers whose works he had read.

At some time between 1470 and 1473, Columbus changed his abode from Genoa to Lisbon. There were two facts that made this transfer of his activities both natural and beneficial. The first was that during the early part of the fifteenth century Portugal had placed herself far in advance of other nations, by her maritime expeditions and achievements. Prince Henry, with a courage and enterprise that have secured for him imperishable renown, had pushed out the boundaries of geographical knowledge, and had awakened an enthusiastic zeal for further discoveries. The fleets of Portugal had made themselves at length familiar with the west coast of Africa; and the bugbear of a tropical sea whose slimy depths were supposed to make navigation impossible, had been dispelled. The interest of every geographical explorer had been aroused and excited. Lisbon was the centre of this new ferment.

The second consideration of importance was the fact that Bartholomew, a younger brother of Columbus, had established himself at the Portuguese capital as a maker and publisher of maps and charts. For the products of this handicraft there had been created an active demand. Nothing was more natural, then, than that this young enthusiast, in whom there were already welling up all kinds of maritime ambitions, should remove to that centre of geographical knowledge and interest, and ally himself with his brother in so congenial and promising a vocation.

It was during the years between 1473 and 1484 that a large part of the maritime experiences of Columbus already adverted to took place. The most of them, perhaps all of them, occurred after Columbus established himself at Lisbon. But unfortunately, there is no contemporaneous evidence to show the course of his life. In the records of the time we find his name here and there in connection with such events as those we have already mentioned; but, as yet, it is impossible to weave these scattered statements into a connected narrative that will bear the test of critical examination. We are obliged, therefore, to be content with mere glimpses of individual events and experiences.

If we have judged correctly as to the year of the Admiral’s birth, he was about twenty-six or seven when he took up his abode in Lisbon. Not long after this change of residence, but in what year we cannot ascertain, an event took place which must have had an important influence, not only on his private life, but also on the development of his maritime plans. It was at about this time that he was married; but when, under what circumstances, and with whom, are questions which, notwithstanding all that has been written on the subject, cannot now be confidently determined. Following the statement of Fernando, it has been customary for historians to say that Columbus married the daughter of an old navigator of Porto Santo, Perestrello by name, to whom Prince Henry had given the governorship of the island in recognition of explorations and discoveries on the coast of Africa. But like so many other of the statements of Fernando, this turns out on examination to be extremely improbable. Harrisse is entitled to the credit of having traced the history of the Perestrello family, and of having found the names of the daughters, and even of their husbands. Not only is the name Columbus lacking in these lists, but it contains no one of the three sisters of Columbus’s wife. This, it is true, is negative evidence only, but it is quite enough to shake our confidence in the statement of Fernando. Of positive evidence there is none whatever. The first mention of his having been married at all occurs in a letter presently to be quoted; and the second was in the clause of his will providing for the saying of masses for his soul and for the souls of his father, mother, and wife. This document bears date of Aug. 25, 1505, and contains no mention of his wife’s name. A name first appears eighteen years later, in the will of Diego, who calls himself the son of Christopher Columbus and his wife Donna Philippa Moñiz. Elsewhere in the same will he refers to himself as the son of Felipa Muñiz, the wife of Columbus, whose ashes repose in the monastery of Carmen at Lisbon. It is possible that Moñiz, or Muñiz, was not the father’s name; but the giving of the maiden name alone in such a connection was not usual at that time, and therefore, in the absence of other evidence, it would seem improbable that the name given was the surname of the father. It was not until nearly fifty years later that the narrative of Fernando first mentions the name of Perestrello. Las Casas and other later writers have done nothing but copy the statement of Fernando, without further investigation. The matter would be of trifling significance but for the fact that later historians have magnified this supposed marriage into a matter of considerable professional importance. Las Casas tells us that he had learned from Diego Columbus that the Admiral and his wife lived for some time with the widow of Perestrello at Porto Santo, and that “all the papers, charts, journals, and maritime instruments” of the old navigators were placed at his disposal. But all the evidence of this fact now obtainable consists simply of repetitions of this statement. The most careful search of all the records has failed to discover a scrap of testimony that Columbus ever lived at Porto Santo or on any of the other islands off the coast of Africa. Harrisse has devoted more than thirty octavo pages to a very critical examination of all the evidence on the marriage of Columbus; but he is unable to reach any other positive conclusion than that very many of the early statements in regard to the matter cannot possibly be correct. As the result of his investigations, he inclines to the belief that the story of the Admiral’s living at Porto Santo and profiting by the maritime possessions and experiences of Perestrello must be abandoned. Beyond the fact that the Admiral’s wife bore the name of Philippa Moñiz, nothing on the subject can be regarded as absolutely known. It seems probable that Columbus was not married till after 1474; but the exact date cannot be established.

As we shall not have occasion to refer to Columbus’s married life again, one fact more should here be noted. Fernando asserts that his father left Portugal in 1484 on account of the grief he experienced at the death of his wife. That the statement was incorrect, is shown by a letter, still in existence, in the handwriting of the Admiral himself. This letter, which was written to Donna Juanna de la Torre, a noble lady at the Spanish court, for the purpose of presenting his cause and arguing it with the evident expectation that his plea would reach the attention of the sovereigns, finally uses these words:—

“I beg you to take into consideration all I have written, and how I came from afar to serve these princes,—abandoning wife and children, whom for this reason I never afterward saw.”

This lamentable recital, written sixteen years after Columbus left Portugal for Spain, and at least nine years after he presented himself with his son Diego at La Rabida, leaves upon our minds the inevitable inference that when he fled from Portugal in 1484, he left behind him a wife and at least two children. Of his legitimate offspring, his heir and successor Diego is the only one of whom any record has been preserved. As we shall hereafter have occasion to note, Columbus left Portugal, not only in poverty, but under circumstances which made it imprudent for him to return. We are obliged to infer that his wife and children were left in indigence. Neither in the numerous writings of Columbus nor in any of the records of the time is there any allusion to the death of the wife or of the children. No letter that passed between husband and wife has ever been found. It remains only to add, on the subject of his conjugal life, that Fernando, the historian, was the natural son of Columbus by a Spanish woman, Beatriz Enriquez by name, and was born on the 15th of August, 1488.

Of the current life of Columbus at Lisbon we know very little. He seems to have been a skilful draughtsman and map-maker,—at least, in one of his letters to the Spanish king he says that God had endowed him with “ingenuity and manual skill in designing spheres and inscribing upon them in the proper places cities, rivers and mountains, isles and ports.” Las Casas and Lopez de Gomera both assure us that Columbus made use of his skill as a means of livelihood.

There is also evidence that he was engaged to some extent in commercial enterprise or speculation. In his will he ordered considerable sums paid to the heirs of certain noble and rich Genoese established in Lisbon in 1482,—giving specific direction that they should not be informed from whom the money came. We know that he left Portugal secretly, and that the king, when inviting him to return, assured him immunity from civil and criminal prosecution. It has been plausibly conjectured that in the course of his commercial transactions he had incurred debts to his rich countrymen which he had never paid, and that at the last moment his conscience demanded absolution from these obligations.

Though the occasion of such debts is purely hypothetical, it is not difficult to conjecture how they may have occurred. In the fifteenth century the commercial enterprise and opportunities of Lisbon attracted thither a large number of wealthy Florentine and Genoese merchants. We are informed that they were engaged in various commercial ventures; and nothing could be more natural than that they should be ready to avail themselves of the maritime skill of their young countryman. In the journal of Columbus, under the date of Dec. 21, 1492, he wrote:—

“I have navigated the sea during twenty-three years, without noteworthy interruption; I have seen all the Levant and the Ponent; what is called the Northern Way,—that is England; and I have sailed to Guinea.”

As there is no other evidence that he went to England, it is probable that the allusion here is to that northern voyage, which, as we have already seen, had had the seas about Iceland as its destination. Though it is not easy to conjecture how the phrase, “twenty-three years without noteworthy interruption,” is to be reconciled with what we elsewhere learn of the years just before 1492, yet it is not difficult to understand how all the voyages referred to may have been made during that period. Before the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope by Bartholomew Diaz in December of 1487, the remotest navigable sea was not far away. To visit the North, the West, or the South was not an enterprise of long duration; and the mariner who had explored the Black Sea, the Mediterranean, the Atlantic from the equator to Iceland and the Baltic, might well claim to be familiar with all the seas that were navigable to a European.

Such were the most important of the experiences, which, so far as we can now know, gave form and fibre to the character of Columbus. If the years were full of turbulent experiences, it is evident that they were also years full of absorbing thought.

Soon after Columbus reached Lisbon, even if not before, he became possessed with the great idea that important discoveries could be made by sailing due west. Was the idea original with him? Was such a notion entertained by others? These questions, on which so much of the credit of Columbus depends, can only be answered after we take at least a brief survey of the geographical knowledge of the time.

It will perhaps never be known who first propounded the theory of the sphericity of the earth; but we are certain that it was systematically taught by the Pythagoreans of southern Italy in the sixth century before Christ. With the writings of Pythagoras, Plato was familiar, and perhaps it was from this bold western speculator that the great Athenian philosopher received the impression that finally ripened into an unquestioning belief. Pythagoras believed the earth to be a sphere, and his views and theories are set forth in two of Plato’s works.

But it was the great successor of Plato who was to have the credit of giving these views systematic form. In a treatise “On the Heavens” Aristotle gave a formal summary of the grounds leading to a belief in the earth’s sphericity.

Greece bequeathed this doctrine to Rome, where it was specifically taught by Pliny and Hyginus, and was referred to with seeming approval by Cicero and Ovid. From the literature of Rome it passed into many of the school-books of the Middle Ages.

The Greeks and Romans were fertile as speculators, but as navigators they really did very little. Not until the last days of the Republic did the existence of lands beyond the sea become generally known. It was in the time of Sulla that Sertorius brought back the curious story that, when on an expedition to Bætica, he fell in with certain sailors, who declared that they had just returned from the Atlantic islands, which they described as distant ten thousand stadia, or about twelve hundred and fifty miles, from Africa, and as having a wonderful flora and a still more wonderful climate. It was not until a few years later that the Canaries became known as the Fortunate Islands. Notwithstanding all that had been done by the Tyrians and Carthaginians, Pliny refers to the Pillars of Hercules as the limit of navigation.

No systematic effort to extend the boundaries of geographical knowledge can be attributed to the Romans. There was no international competition in trade, for the reason that Rome had come to be self-reliant, and, in theory at least, to possess everything that was of value. Interest therefore was purely speculative. There was no compass; there were none but small ships.

Added to this, it must be said that there was a general and vivid horror of the western ocean. Pindar declared that no one, however brave, could pass beyond Gades; “for only a god,” he said, “might voyage in those waters.”

The views of the Romans were set forth in somewhat systematic form by Strabo and Pomponius Mela. The work of Mela, written during the first half of the first century, had considerable influence throughout the Middle Ages. The first edition was printed in 1471 at Milan, and this was followed by editions at Venice in 1478 and 1482.

Of far greater importance were the writings of Ptolemy. Near the end of the second century he not only brought together in systematic form the ideas of those who had gone before him, but he elaborated and set forth a system of his own. His work thus became a great source of geographical information throughout the twelve centuries that were to follow. The book, however, scarcely had any popular significance before the fifteenth century; for until that time it was locked up within the mysteries of the Greek language. But in 1409, a version in Latin disseminated his views throughout Europe.

In one respect the theories of Ptolemy were exceptionally important in their bearing upon the western discoveries. It was his belief that the further extension of geographical knowledge was to be obtained by pushing the lines of investigation toward the west rather than toward the north or toward the south. It is of significance in the life of Columbus that the first edition of Ptolemy was printed in 1475, and that several other editions were issued from the press before 1492. It is also of interest to note that the views promulgated by the Alexandrian geographer were essentially the views held and advocated by Columbus.

The theologians generally rejected the idea of sphericity. There were, however, some very notable exceptions. The doctrine was positively taught by Saint Isadore of Seville, and was somewhat elaborately set forth by the Venerable Bede. Of still more importance was the unquestioning acceptance of this doctrine by that great protagonist of the faith, Saint Thomas Aquinas. Albertus Magnus, Roger Bacon, and Dante seem also, in a more or less definite form, to have accepted the same doctrine.

In any account, however brief, of the early years of Columbus, a statement should also be made concerning some of the explorers who had performed an important part in pushing out the boundaries of knowledge.

One of the most remarkable of these was John de Mandeville. It is very properly the fashion to regard this audacious romancer as one of the most unscrupulous of all explorers. It is certain that he did not see a quarter or perhaps even a tenth part of the things which he affects to describe. But in spite of all these characteristics, there is one passage in the book that can hardly fail to have made a deep impression on the mind of Columbus. In this remarkable passage the author relates, in the quaint language of the time, how he himself came to the conclusion that the earth was a sphere. His words are,—

“In the north the south lodestar is not seen; and in the south, the north is not seen.... By which say you certainly that men may environ all the earth, as well under as above, and turn again to his country, and always find men as well as in this country.... For ye witten well that they that turn toward the antarctic, be straight feet against feet of them that dwell under the transmontayne, as well as we and they that dwell under us be feet against feet.”

Of still more importance in shaping directly or indirectly the opinions of Columbus was the great work of Marco Polo. This Venetian traveller, after spending many years in China and Japan, and having the best of opportunities for observation, published the great work on which his reputation as a traveller and writer is founded. He not only described with considerable minuteness the countries which he visited, but he pictured, though with gross exaggerations, the great wealth of many of the eastern cities. Columbus supposed that these regions, still in the hands of infidels, could be reached by sailing westward across the Atlantic.

But there was another book that had more influence upon Columbus than all the others; and this was the “Imago Mundi” of Cardinal d’Ailly. It was a kind of encyclopædia of geographical knowledge, in which the author had endeavoured to bring together all the prevailing views in regard to the form of the earth. In the copy of this remarkable book, still preserved in the Columbian Library at Seville, there are still to be seen numerous marginal annotations by Columbus himself. These notes make us absolutely certain that the navigator studied very carefully and early became familiar with the beliefs of all the geographical writers of antiquity and of the Middle Ages.

It is natural to ask the question why, if the earth was known to be spherical, and if the compass was already in existence, voyages of discovery were so long delayed? If one looks at the geographical works of the time, one sees everywhere taught the notion that the unknown regions were peopled with monsters ready to devour any who approached. One of the pictures in the Nuremberg Chronicle, for illustration, represents the Atlantic as filled with monsters so huge as to be able and ready to lift any ship easily upon its back and dash it to destruction. The Arabs believed and taught that in the torrid zone the moisture was so much sucked up by the heat of the sun that the residue was impervious to the passage of ships. Popular credulity everywhere seemed to gain the mastery over science. The early Anglo-Saxon scholars believed that the earth was a globe; but in spite of all their teaching, we find in an early Anglo-Saxon tract, intended to convey abstruse information in the form of a dialogue, the following question and answer:—

“Question: Tell me, my son, why the sun is so red in the evening?

“Answer: Because it looketh down upon hell.”

It must be conceded that this doctrine was sufficiently discouraging to western navigation.

It should not, however, be forgotten that while views concerning the sphericity of the earth were gradually making their impression, geographical knowledge was extending itself through the efforts of explorers. The boldest adventurers were gradually pressing their way into the far north. The inhabitants of Iceland—perhaps from their geographical isolation—were especially adventurous. Within the present century the evidence has been made complete that America was visited and explored in the eleventh century, and that accounts of these explorations in detail became a part of the national literature. But Iceland was so isolated from the rest of Europe that these explorations seem to have made no impression, even if they were at all known. The first allusion to the discovery of America by the Scandinavians ever printed was that of Adam von Bremen, in his work issued from the press at Copenhagen in 1579. Although the work had been in manuscript for centuries, there is no evidence that these explorations made any impression upon the literature or knowledge of the time. If Columbus visited Iceland, it is probable that he became acquainted with the traditions of these western voyages. It is of course possible that he obtained positive information from the stories that may have been current among the seafaring men of Iceland in the fifteenth century. But the matter is left in doubt by the fact that no such knowledge was ever revealed by Columbus after his return; and it hardly seems probable that he would have kept such an item of information locked up in his own brain at a time when he was trying to bring every argument to bear upon the Portuguese and Spanish courts.

While these numerous intellectual purveyors were bringing to the mind of Columbus their varied stores of information, an event occurred which must have had a powerful influence in shaping and intensifying his purpose.

In the year 1474 there was living at Florence the venerable astronomer and geographer Toscanelli. This eminent savant, now seventy-eight years of age, after having enjoyed the honours of connection with nearly all the learned societies of that day, had been greatly interested in the recently published book of Marco Polo. From the account given by this Venetian traveller, Toscanelli had arrived at certain interesting views in regard to the size of the earth. He had satisfied himself that the open water between western Europe and eastern Asia could be crossed in a voyage of not more than three thousand miles. The letters of Toscanelli have been preserved, and they form a most interesting part of the history of this period. We cannot quote from them at any length, but the importance of the correspondence is sufficient to justify a concise statement of the particular significance of the letters.

In the first place, in one of the letters, dated in 1474, Toscanelli says that he had already written to the king of Portugal, urging upon him the practicability of reaching Japan and China by sailing directly west. He had accompanied this statement, moreover, with a map showing what, in his opinion, would be found in the course of the proposed voyage. Unfortunately, the original map of Toscanelli, so far as we know, has not been preserved. Copies of it, which we may presume to be substantially accurate, however, enable us to form a sufficient impression as to the general nature of his geographical views. He had no conception of another continent. On the contrary, he believed that the eastern part of Asia, excepting as it was fringed with Cipango (Japan) and other islands, presented its broad and hospitable front to any navigator bold enough to sail two or three thousand miles directly west from Portugal or Spain. These beliefs are important, because they are the identical ones afterward held by Columbus, not only at the time of his first voyage, but also even until the day of his death.

Another fact indicated in the Toscanelli letters is the desire expressed by Columbus, showing clearly that as early as 1474, three years before the reputed visit to Iceland, he had formed a definite purpose, if possible, to visit and explore the unknown regions of the east by sailing west.

Another peculiarity of Toscanelli’s letters relates to the wealth of the countries to be explored. On this point he not only refers to Marco Polo, but also speaks of the descriptions given by an ambassador in the time of Pope Eugenius IV. He says: “I was a great deal in his company, and he gave me descriptions of the munificence of his king, and of the immense rivers in that territory, which contained, as he stated, two hundred cities with marble bridges upon the banks of a single stream.” “The city of Quinsay,” Toscanelli continues, “is thirty-five leagues in circuit, and it contains ten large marble bridges, built upon immense columns of singular magnificence.” Of Cipango, he says: “This island possesses such an abundance of precious stones and metals that the temples and royal palaces are covered with plates of gold.”

We have now seen—briefly, it is true, but perhaps with sufficient fulness—how Columbus in various ways had received his education. If called upon to sum up the impressions that he had gained in the course of his experience at Genoa and Lisbon before 1484, the result would be something like the following: First, he acquired a very definite and positive belief in the sphericity of the earth. Secondly, through Toscanelli, Cardinal d’Ailly, and others, he had likewise received an equally definite and positive impression that the size of the earth was much less than it actually is. His belief was that Japan would be reached by sailing west a distance not greater than the distance which actually intervenes between Portugal and the eastern coasts of America. In the third place, these beliefs were confirmed by certain vague reports of sailors that had been driven to the far west, and by such articles as had been thrown by the waters upon the islands lying west of Portugal and northern Africa.

What may be called the approaches to the discovery of America were, in their general characteristics, not unlike those which have generally preceded other great discoveries and inventions. Seldom in the history of the human race has the conception and the consummation of a great discovery been the product of a single brain. The final achievement is ordinarily only the culminating act of the more logical mind and the more dauntless courage. Such was the case with Columbus. The more one becomes familiar with the thought and the enterprise of the fifteenth century, the more clearly one sees how impossible it would have been for America to have long remained undiscovered, even if there had been no Columbus. We shall hereafter see how a Portuguese fleet, in the year 1500, when sailing for Good Hope, and with no thought of a western continent, was driven by storms to the coast of Brazil. But none of these facts should detract from the credit of Columbus. The great man of such a time is the one who shows that he knows the law of development, and, bringing all possible knowledge to his service, works, with a lofty courage and an unflagging persistency and enthusiasm, for the object of his devotion in accordance with the strict laws of historical sequence. Such was the method of Columbus. Others, perhaps, were as familiar with all the geographical facts and theories with which he had so long been storing his mind; others even saw as clearly the conclusions to which these facts and theories so distinctly pointed: but he alone, of all the men of his generation, was possessed with the lofty enthusiasm, the ardent prescience, the unhasting and unresting courage, that were the harbingers of glorious success.

CHAPTER II.
ATTEMPTS TO SECURE ASSISTANCE.

An enterprise so vast and hazardous as that proposed by Columbus was not likely to receive adequate assistance from any private benefactor. Though the Portuguese had long been considered daring navigators, no one of them had yet undertaken an expedition in any way comparable in point of novelty and boldness with that now proposed. The explorers of Prince Henry had skirted along the coasts of Africa, following out lines of discovery that had already been somewhat plainly marked out. But what Columbus now proposed was the bolder course of cutting loose from old traditions and methods, and sailing directly west into an unknown space. Capital was even more conservative and timid in the fifteenth century than it is at the present time; and therefore great expeditions were much more dependent upon governmental assistance. It was not singular, therefore, that Columbus found himself obliged to seek for governmental support and protection.

But in this, as in so many other details in the life of Columbus, it is impossible at the present time to be confident that we have ascertained the exact truth. Many of the early accounts are conflicting; and not a few of the prevailing impressions are founded on evidence that will not bear the test of critical examination. For example, nearly all of the historians assert that Columbus made application for assistance to the governments of Genoa and Venice.

The only authority for belief that the Admiral applied to Genoa is a statement of Ramusio, who affirms that he received his information from Peter Martyr. In the course of the narrative he says that when the application was rejected, Columbus, at the age of forty, determined to go to Portugal. Unfortunately, to our acceptance of this circumstantial statement there are several very serious obstacles. In the first place, no authority for such an assertion can be found in all the writings of Peter Martyr. Again, the archives of Genoa have been thoroughly explored in vain for any evidence of such an application. But most important of all, the assertion, if true, would prove that Columbus was born as early as 1430. We should also be obliged to infer that two of his children by the same mother differed in age by at least thirty-six years. The impression that Columbus made application for assistance to Genoa may therefore safely be dismissed as apocryphal.

The evidence in regard to an application to Venice, though less positive in its nature, is also inconclusive. The Venetian historian Carlo Antonio Marin, whose history of Venetian commerce was not published till the year 1800, was the first to give currency to the story. His authority is this. He says that Francesco Pesaro said to him some ten or twelve years before,—that is, about 1780,—that in making some researches in the archives of the Council of Ten, he had seen and read a letter of Columbus making application to the Venetian Government for assistance. But although diligent search has since been made at two different times throughout the archives for the years between 1470 and 1492, no trace of such a letter has ever been found. It is possible that this important document may have been destroyed when, just before the preliminaries of Leoben, in May, 1797, a mob invaded the hall of the Council of Ten and dispersed such of the papers as could be found. But until some further evidence comes to light, it must be considered doubtful whether application to Venice was ever made.

In regard to applications to Portugal, England, and France, the evidence is less incomplete, though here, too, we meet with not a few conflicting statements.

In one of his letters to the Spanish sovereigns Columbus says: “For twenty-seven years I had been trying to get recognition, but at the end of that period all my projects were turned to ridicule.... But notwithstanding this fact,” he continues, “I pressed on with zeal, and responded to France, Portugal, and England that I reserved for the king and queen those countries and those domains.” Elsewhere he says: “In order to serve your Highnesses, I listened to neither England nor Portugal nor France, whose princes wrote me letters which your Highnesses can see in the hands of Dr. Villalono.”

There is another bit of evidence on this subject that is not less interesting. On the 19th of March, 1493, Duke of Medina Celi wrote to Cardinal de Mendoza asking that he might be permitted to send vessels every year to trade in America, and urging as a reason for this special favor the fact that he had prevented Columbus from going to the service of France and had held him to the service of Spain, at a time when he had opportunities for going elsewhere.

But as if to prevent us from being too confident that we have arrived at the exact truth, Columbus in another of his letters gives us a statement which, if it stood alone, would seem to prove that John II. not only made no offer, but stubbornly refused all assistance. He says: “The king of Portugal refused with blindness to second me in my projects of maritime discovery, for God closed his eyes, ears, and all his senses, so that in fourteen years I was not able to make him listen to what I advanced.”

From this it would seem to be certain that the offer of Portugal alluded to in the letter above quoted was not made earlier than 1487, fully two years after Columbus had arrived in Spain.

That Columbus’s application was made as early as 1474, the Toscanelli correspondence is sufficient proof. But the moment was not auspicious. John II., who was then reigning, appears to have had no aversion to giving aid to such an enterprise; but he was involved in expensive wars, and any additional drafts upon the treasury would have met with exceptional difficulty.

But there was another reason that ought not to be overlooked. The recent maritime history of Portugal had given the Government a very natural feeling of self-reliance. The extraordinary efforts and successes of Prince Henry had borne fruit. Portugal had not only raised up a large number of skilful explorers, but had attracted to Lisbon all the great navigators of the time. Diego Cam and Behaim had gone beyond the Congo. Affonso de Aviero had visited the kingdom of Benin, and Pedro de Covilham had advanced to Calicut by way of the Red Sea. Affonso de Pavia had reached Abyssinia, and Bartholomew Diaz was at the point of doubling the Cape of Good Hope. Thus a vast number of expeditions had been sent out, not only to the coasts of Africa, but also to the open sea. In 1513 De Mafra testified that the king of Portugal had sent out two exploring expeditions that had returned without results. In view of all these facts the refusal of the Portuguese monarch might easily be explained on the ground of anterior engagements to his own subjects.

But notwithstanding the assurances of Columbus himself, it is certain that there was no absolute refusal. On the contrary, there is positive proof that the king took the matter into most careful consideration. He not only listened with attention to the scheme, but, if we may believe the testimony of Fernando, gave a qualified promise of support. Columbus accepted an invitation of the monarch to unfold his hypothesis in reference to the extent of Asia, the splendors of the region described by Marco Polo, the shortness of the distance across the Atlantic, and the entire practicability of reaching the East Indies by a directly westward course.

Of this interview we have two accounts, one written by the Admiral’s son Fernando, and the other by De Barros, the Portuguese historiographer. According to Fernando, his father supported the prosecution of the plan by such excellent reasons that the king did not hesitate to give his consent. But when Columbus, being a man of lofty and noble ideals, demanded honorable titles and rewards, the king found the matter quite beyond the means then at his disposal. De Barros, on the other hand, assures us that the seeming acquiescence of the king was simply his manner of answering what he regarded as the unreasonable importunities of Columbus. He considered the navigator as a vainglorious man, fond of displaying his abilities and given to fantastic notions, such as those respecting the island of Cipango. According to this same authority, it was but another way of getting rid of Columbus that the king referred the whole subject to a committee of the Council for Geographical Affairs.

It is said that councils of war never fight, and that advisory boards regard the promoters of new schemes as their natural enemies. The committee to whom the king referred the proposal of Columbus was made up of two Jewish physicians and a bishop. Although the physicians, Roderigo and Joseph, were reputed as the most able cosmographers of the realm, they had not much hesitation in deciding that the project was extravagant and visionary. With this judgment the ecclesiastical member of the council seems to have agreed.

The king, however, as if unwilling to lose any valuable opportunity, does not appear to have been satisfied with this answer. As the story goes, he convoked his royal council, and asked their advice whether to adopt this new route, or to pursue that which had already been opened.

Von Concelos, the historian of King John II., has given a graphic account of the discussion held before this council. The Bishop of Ceuta, the same important dignitary that had been a member of the committee of three, opposed this scheme in a cool and deliberate speech. The opposite side was presented by Dom Pedro de Meneses with so much eloquence and power that the impression he made quite surpassed that of the colder reasonings of the bishop. What followed was apparently prompted by a consciousness that the advocates of the scheme were likely to be successful. The bishop now proposed a very unworthy scheme. He asked that Columbus might be kept in suspense while a vessel should be secretly despatched by the king to discover whether there was any foundation for his theory. The king appears not to have been above the adoption of so base a proposition. Columbus was required to furnish for the consideration of the council a plan of his proposed voyage, together with the charts and maps with which he intended to guide his course. A small vessel was despatched, ostensibly to the Cape de Verde islands, but with private instructions to proceed on the route pointed out by Columbus. The officer had no heart in the enterprise, and it was a complete failure. Sailing westward for several days, they encountered storms, and the sailors, losing their courage, returned to ridicule the project as impossible.

When these facts came to be known, they produced a very natural impression on the mind of Columbus. Disgusted with the treatment he had received from the Portuguese, he quitted Lisbon for Spain at a date which cannot be determined with precision, but probably in the latter part of the year 1484 or in the early part of 1485. His departure had to be secret, lest he should be detained either by the king or his creditors. Color is given to the supposition that he was under grave charges of some kind by the fact that King John, when, some years later, inviting him to return to Portugal, deemed it necessary to insure him “against arrest on account of any process, civil or criminal, that might be pending against him.”

Now, in considering all these accounts, it is not difficult to imagine that in his efforts to promote his great schemes, Columbus had been kept in poverty. But the reasons for his leaving in secret, and even his movements on leaving Portugal, are involved in uncertainty.

It has also very often been held by modern historians that Columbus, immediately after entering Spain, found his way to the monastery of La Rabida, near Palos. The authority for this belief, moreover, is nothing less than a circumstantial account given by Fernando. But the assertion has been proved to be incorrect. In the trial of 1513, in which Diego Columbus attempted to establish certain claims against the Government, two witnesses gave sworn testimony in regard to the meeting at La Rabida. This testimony is still to be seen in the records of the trial; and the details of the evidence make it almost absolutely certain that the visit of Columbus to that famous monastery was not when he first entered Spain in 1484 or 1485, but as late as September or October of 1491.

Of another interesting effort, however, we have more positive information. It was probably before leaving Portugal that he despatched his brother Bartholomew to make application to the king of England. But whatever the date of the application, it was not successful. Whether the presentation of the case was made orally or in writing can perhaps never be determined. It is known that he was in England for a considerable period; but no trace of the application itself has ever been found in the English authorities of the time. After remaining in England probably until 1488, Bartholomew went to France, where he remained until 1494. Though it seems probable that he received some encouragement at the French court, even the probability rests upon no documentary evidence except the assertion of Columbus, already quoted. That hopes were held out, may perhaps be inferred from the fact that when, almost at the last moment, Columbus turned his back upon the Spanish court, he decided to go to France.

As to the course pursued by Columbus after he reached Spain, there is also some uncertainty. This is owing to the impossibility of reconciling some of the statements of Fernando with many of the other statements found in the contemporaneous records. If the narrative of the son in regard to the course of the father is followed, the student will find himself in a labyrinth of difficulties. Fernando would have us believe that immediately after entering Spain his father went to the court of Medina Celi, and a little later had his famous experience at the monastery of La Rabida. But it is impossible to reconcile such a statement with the subsequent current of events. We know, as we shall presently see, that Columbus was two years in the house of the Duke of Medina Celi, and that at the end of that period he took a letter of introduction and commendation to Cardinal Mendoza at the court of Ferdinand and Isabella. We know also that the visit to La Rabida was the cause of a letter being written which induced Columbus to take that journey to the court, which resulted in the ultimate adoption of his cause. The letter of Medina, moreover, assured the monarch that Columbus was on the point of taking his enterprise to the court of France. This assertion appears to be altogether incompatible with the supposition that the abode of Columbus with Medina Celi was in the early part of his residence in Spain. Not to present a tedious array of irreconcilable details, it is perhaps enough to say that if the statement of Fernando is once rejected, the way is, for the most part, easy and clear. If we once adopt the supposition that the abode with Medina Celi began in 1489, and that the visit to La Rabida was in September or October of 1491, we shall rest on the authority of Las Casas, and shall find that the difficulties in the way of accounting for the movements of Columbus are chiefly removed. Against this supposition, moreover, there is no evidence except the statement of Fernando, published not less than eighty years after the events it purports to describe.

With this explanation let us endeavour to point out the course of Columbus in the light of the original evidence.

Before we can understand the course that was taken, we must glance at the general condition of Spain.

The modern Inquisition was established in Castile by royal decree in September of 1480. It proceeded with so much energy that in the course of the following year, it is estimated that no less than two thousand persons were burned at the stake. The queen appears to have had some scruples in regard to this wholesale slaughter; but these were allayed by Pope Sixtus the Fourth, who encouraged her by an audacious reference to the example of Christ, who, he said, established his kingdom by the destruction of idolatry. This teaching was effective. In the autumn of 1483 the terrible Torquemada was appointed Inquisitor-General, and clothed with full powers to reorganize the Holy Office and exterminate heresy. From that time until the end of this inquisitor’s term of office, according to the estimation of Llorente, the annual number of persons condemned to torture was more than six thousand, and in the course of the whole period more than ten thousand were burned alive. The success of the Inquisition in Castile was so satisfactory that Ferdinand resolved to introduce it into Aragon. Notwithstanding a remonstrance of the Cortes, the auto-da-fé, with all its horrors, was set up at Saragossa in the month of May, 1485. The Aragonese, despairing of any other way of protecting themselves, resolved upon an appalling act of violence. Arbues, the most odious of the inquisitors, was attacked by a band of conspirators and assassinated on his knees before the great altar of the cathedral, in a manner that reminds us of the death of Thomas à Becket at Canterbury. The whole kingdom was consequently thrown into turmoil.

But there were other causes of anxiety. This very year the prevalence of the plague added to the general solicitude. In some of the southern districts of the kingdom the ravages of the pestilence showed not only the appalling condition of the people, but also the necessity of governmental assistance. In several of the cities as many as eight or ten thousand of the inhabitants were swept away. In Seville alone the number that perished this very year was no less than fifteen thousand.

Just at this juncture, moreover, the coin of the realm was adulterated, and a fatal shock was given to commercial credit. The people very generally refused to receive the debased money in payment of debts. Prices of ordinary articles rose to such a height as to be above the reach of the poorer classes of the community. Great destitution prevailed, and the resources of the Government were put to the severest strain. Even if there had been no other tax upon the treasures of the king and queen, the time would not have been propitious for an application like that of Columbus.

But there was another and a still more important reason. For more than three years the terrible war against the Moors had been taxing the resources of the united armies of Ferdinand and Isabella. When the Genoese navigator entered Spain, the court was making active preparations for a vigorous continuation of that titanic struggle. The rival kings of Granada had formed a coalition that now called for the most prompt and vigorous action. The headquarters of the king and queen were established at Cordova, where the active operations in the field could be most easily and successfully directed; and all the resources of Castile and Aragon were called into requisition to meet these emergencies in the famous contest of the Cross against the Crescent.

No one can fairly judge either of the generosity or of the justice of the monarchs in dealing with Columbus, without taking into consideration all these prior obligations. At the very moment when this enterprising navigator applied for assistance, there must have arisen to the minds of Ferdinand and Isabella a vivid consciousness of the ominous ferment caused by the work of the Inquisition; of the suffering occasioned by the plague; of the starvation that everywhere appealed for help in consequence of the debasement of the currency and the rise in prices; and, finally, of the all-absorbing necessity of bringing every resource of the country to bear upon the ending of this terrible war against Granada. Nor can it be forgotten that the war was still to make its demands upon the country for six years. In view of all the facts, it is difficult to imagine a concurrence of circumstances more unfavorable to the application. The monarchs could not have been justly blamed if they had summarily declared that a granting of the application was impossible. And yet, that they were unwilling to reject the application outright, the course of events abundantly shows.

Columbus, in a letter dated the 14th of January, 1493, says that seven years the twentieth of that month had rolled away since he entered the service of the Spanish monarchs. This exact statement, corroborated in substance as it is by others, would seem to fix the date of his entering the Spanish service as the 20th of January, 1486. What the nature of this service was, cannot now be determined. Nor do we know whether from this time he received pecuniary support. The first record of such assistance, indeed the first authentic documentary evidence of his being in Spain, occurs in an entry in the books of the royal treasurer for the 5th of May, 1487. Under this date is found the following entry: “To-day paid three thousand maravedis [about twenty dollars] to Christopher Columbus, stranger, who is here employed in certain things for their Highnesses, under the direction of Alphonso de Quintanilla, by order of the bishop.” In one of his letters to Ferdinand, Columbus says: “As soon as your Highness had knowledge of my desire [to visit the Indies], you protected me and honored me with favors.”

While there is nothing in these assertions to indicate the exact date when Columbus began to receive pecuniary assistance, we are justified in the inference that it was in January of 1486.

There is no evidence, however, that Columbus presented himself at the Spanish capital before the following spring. Surely the times must have seemed to him inauspicious. The monarchs had established themselves at Cordova as the most convenient place for the headquarters of the army. Early in the year, the king marched off to lay siege to the Moorish city of Illora, while Isabella remained at Cordova to forward the necessary troops and supplies. A little later we find both monarchs, in person, carrying on the siege of Moclin. Scarcely had they returned to Cordova, however, when they were obliged to set out for Galicia to suppress the rebellion of the Count of Lemos.

During this summer of military turmoil, Columbus remained at Cordova vainly waiting for an opportunity to present his cause. Fortunately he was not without some encouragement; for he had gained the favor of Alonzo de Quintanilla, whose guest he became, and through whom he made the acquaintance of Geraldini, the preceptor of the younger children of Ferdinand and Isabella.

When the monarchs repaired to the northern town of Salamanca for the winter, Columbus also went thither with his friends Quintanilla and Geraldini. Here it was that the cause of the explorer first had a formal hearing.

At this audience it is not probable that Queen Isabella was present; at least, the only part of the discussion taken by the monarchs seems to have been that of the king. It is said that Columbus unfolded his scheme with entire self-possession. He appears to have been neither dazzled nor daunted; for in a letter to the sovereign, in 1501, he declares that on this occasion “he felt himself kindled as with a fire from on high, and considered himself as an agent chosen by Heaven to accomplish a grand design.”

But so important a matter as that now urged upon the sovereigns was not to be entered upon lightly or in haste. However willing the king may have been to be the promoter of discoveries far more important than those which had shed glory upon Portugal, he was too cool and shrewd a man to decide a matter hastily which involved so many scientific principles. Of the details of what followed we have no authentic account. After more than a hundred years had passed away, and the glory of the discovery had come in some measure to be appreciated, the claim was set up that a congress or junta of learned men was called together, and that the whole subject was submitted to their consideration. The account, however, is accompanied with many suspicious circumstances. The historian Remesal was a Dominican monk and a member of the monastery of St. Stephen at Salamanca, where, it is said, the junta was held. In his narrative he claims that the ecclesiastical members, for the most part monks of St. Stephen, listened with approval to the presentation of the case, while those who might be called the scientific members strenuously opposed it. This statement, which is the basis of Irving’s account, is not only inherently improbable, but is supported by no contemporaneous evidence whatever. The absence of such evidence, moreover, is enough to condemn the whole story. The records of the monastery, which are supposed to be complete, contain no reference to any such meeting. Las Casas, himself a Dominican, would have been sure to introduce the account into his narrative if it had rested upon any basis of fact. He makes no allusion to any such meeting, and we are forced to conclude that the story was fabricated for ecclesiastical purposes. But although no such formal meeting was ever held, there is evidence that Ferdinand obtained, in an informal way, the opinions of some of the most learned men of the time.

The city of Salamanca, where this order was issued, seemed in every way favourable for such a hearing; for at this ancient capital was situated one of the most renowned universities of Spain. It is difficult to suppose that the professors of that venerable institution were not familiar with the latest theories in regard to the sphericity of the earth; but notwithstanding this fact, Columbus had to confront, not only the prudent conservatism of learning, but also the obstinate conservatism of the Church. The faculties were made up partly of ecclesiastics, and partly of others who soon became fully imbued with the ecclesiastical spirit. It was at a time when there was no more thought of tolerating heresy than there was of tolerating arson. The Inquisition, as we have just seen, had recently been established. In both the king and the queen an ardent religious zeal was united with great political and military skill, as well as great personal popularity. Heresy was the most dangerous of crimes, and the strictest adherence to traditional doctrines was encouraged by all the considerations of loyalty, of interest, and of prudence. To the dark colours in which heresy was painted by the Church in the fifteenth century, a still deeper hue was now added by the horrors of the Moorish wars. It is therefore easy to explain why the people of Spain surpassed the people of other countries in the fervour of religious intolerance. Columbus was obliged to plead the cause of his departure from traditional methods in an atmosphere charged with all these predispositions, prejudices, and motives. By the vulgar crowd the navigator had persistently been scoffed at as a visionary; but with something of the hopeful enthusiasm of an adventurer, he had steadily maintained the belief that it was only necessary to meet a body of enlightened men to insure their conversion to his cause.

But his hopefulness was destined to be disabused. We can well believe that his project appeared in a somewhat unfavourable light before the learned men of the day. To them he was simply an obscure navigator, and a foreigner at that, depending upon nothing more than the force of the reasons he might be able to present. Some of them, no doubt, looked upon him simply as an adventurer, while others were disposed to manifest their impatience at any doctrinal innovation. The predominance of opinion seemed to intrench itself in the belief that after so many cosmographers and navigators had been studying and exploring the globe for centuries, it was simply an absurd presumption to suppose that any new discoveries of importance were now to be made.

The discussion, almost at the very first, was taken out of the domain of science. Instead of attempting to present astronomical and geographical objections to the proposed voyage, the objectors assailed the scheme with citations from the Bible and from the Fathers of the Church. The book of Genesis, the Psalms of David, the Prophets, and the Gospels were all put upon the witness-stand and made to testify to the impossibility of success. Saint Chrysostom, Saint Augustine, Lactantius, Saint Jerome, Saint Gregory, and a host of others, were cited as confirmatory witnesses. Philosophical and mathematical demonstrations received no consideration. The simple proposition of Columbus that the earth was spherical was met with texts of Scripture in a manner that was worthy of Father Jasper.

These various presentations, however, were by no means in vain; for there was far from unanimity of opinion. There were a few who admitted that Saint Thomas Aquinas and Saint Isadore might be right in believing the earth to be globular in form; though even these were inclined to deny that circumnavigation was possible. It is a pleasure to note, however, that there was one conspicuous exception to the general current of opposition and resistance. Whether dating from this period we do not know, but it is certain that an early interest was taken in the cause by Diego de Deza, a learned friar of the order of St. Dominic, who afterward became archbishop of Seville, one of the highest ecclesiastical dignitaries of the realm. Deza appears to have risen quite above the limitations of mere ecclesiastical lore; for he not only took a generous interest in the cause of the explorer, but he seconded and encouraged his efforts with all the means at his command. Perhaps it was by his efforts that so deep an impression was made on the most learned men of the conference. However this may have been, the ignorant and the prejudiced remained obstinate in their opposition, and so the season at Salamanca passed away without bringing the monarchs to any decision.

After the winter of 1486–87, there occurred a long and painful period of delays. In the following spring the court departed from Salamanca and went to Cordova to prepare for the memorable campaign against Malaga. Columbus accompanied the expedition in the vain hope that there would be an opportunity for a further hearing. At one time when the Spanish armies were encamped on the hills and plains surrounding the beleaguered city, Columbus was summoned to court; but amid the din of a terrible contest there was no place for a calm consideration of the great maritime project. The summer was full of incident and peril. At one time the king was surprised and nearly cut off by the craft of the old Moorish monarch; at another a Moorish fanatic attempted to assassinate both king and queen, only to be cut to pieces after he had wounded the prince of Portugal and the Marchioness de Moya, supposing them to be Ferdinand and Isabella.

But it is easy to imagine that this seemingly untoward event contributed to help on the cause of Columbus. The Marchioness de Moya had warmly espoused his cause, and the attempt upon her life can hardly have failed to appeal to the interest of Queen Isabella.

Malaga surrendered in August, and the king and queen almost immediately returned to Cordova. The pestilence, however, very soon made that old city an unsafe abode. For a while the court was in what might be called the turmoil of migration. At one time it was in Valladolid, at another in Saragossa, at another in Medina de Campo. But during all this period its ardent business was the pressing forward of the Spanish armies into the Moorish territories. As every reader of Irving knows, the ground was stubbornly contested, inch by inch. Columbus remained for the most part with the army; but he sought in vain for the quiet necessary for a dispassionate hearing.

It could hardly have been otherwise. Ferdinand and Isabella have often been reproached with needless delays in the matter of rendering the required assistance; but such a reproach cannot be justified. The custom of the time sanctioned, even if it did not require, that the court should accompany the military camp. The Government was not only at the head of the army, but it was actually and continuously in the field. All other questions were absorbed by the military interests of the moment; and it would have been singular indeed, if, in such a situation, the resources of the treasury had been called upon to subsidize an expedition that as yet had been unable to secure the approval of the learned men who had been asked to consider its merits. It would be difficult to show that the course taken by the monarchs was not both wise and natural. The period of the war was a fit time in which to ascertain the merits of the proposal; and if after the contest should be brought to an end, the reports should be found favorable, the expedition could be fitted out with such assistance as might comport with the condition of the treasury and the necessities of the case.

But, on the other hand, it was not singular that Columbus was at this time wearied and discouraged by the delays. The end of the war was still involved in great uncertainty, and there was no assurance that even at the return of peace his proposals would receive the royal approval and support. It was not unnatural, then, that he began to think of applying elsewhere for assistance. In the spring of 1488 he wrote to the king of Portugal, asking permission to return to that country. The reply, received on the 20th of March, not only extended the desired invitation, but also gave him the significant assurance of protection against any suits of a criminal or civil nature that might be pending against him. About the same time he seems also to have received a letter from Henry VII. of England, inviting him to that country, and holding out certain vague promises of encouragement. Though this letter was doubtless the fruit of the efforts made by his brother Bartholomew, there is no evidence that Columbus ever thought favourably of accepting the invitation. Why it was that he delayed going to Portugal until late in the autumn cannot be determined with certainty. It is, however, not difficult to conjecture. Harrisse has found in the treasury-books memoranda of small amounts of money paid to Columbus from time to time during his stay in the vicinity of the Spanish court. Ferdinand and Isabella were sufficiently interested in the project to be unwilling that he should carry his proposition to another monarch. At least, they were anxious that he should not commit himself elsewhere until they should have had opportunity to examine into the project with care; and then, at the close of the war, if it seemed best, they would give him the needed support. Accordingly, elaborate preparations for a new hearing were at once made. No less than three royal orders were issued,—one summoning Columbus to a council of learned men at Seville; one directing the city authorities to provide lodgings for the navigator, as for an officer of the government; another commanding the magistrates of the cities along the way to furnish accommodations for him and for his attendants.

These orders were all carried out; but the conference was postponed, and finally interrupted by the opening of the campaign for the summer. The annals of Seville contain a statement that in this campaign Columbus was found fighting and “giving proofs of the distinguishing valor which accompanied his wisdom and his lofty desires.” What we positively know of the course of events may be summed up as follows. On the 3d of July, 1487, he received the second stipend in money. At the end of the following August we find him at the siege of Malaga. In the winter of 1487–88 he was at Cordova, when his relations with Beatriz Enriquez resulted in the birth of his son Fernando on the 15th of August, 1488. On the 16th of June of this year Columbus received the third allowance of money. Early in the spring he had asked for permission to return to Portugal, and the letter granting his request bears date of the 20th of March. The journey was not undertaken, however, until after the birth of his son. When he went, and how long he remained in Portugal, are uncertain; for the only positive proof that he took the journey at all is a memorandum in his own handwriting, dated at Lisbon in December of 1488. It is, however, interesting to note that this memorandum, made in his copy of Cardinal d’Ailly’s “Imago Mundi,” calls attention to the return of Diaz from his voyage to the Cape of Good Hope. It is, however, definitely ascertained that he returned in the spring of 1489; for on the 12th of May of that year an order was issued to all the authorities of the cities through which he passed, to furnish him all needed support and assistance at the royal expense.

The fact that this is the last time that Columbus figures in the order-books of the treasury has led Harrisse to infer that the navigator saw no immediate chance of success, and so for a time abstained from the further pressing of his suit.

We are thus brought to the autumn of 1489, when Columbus, seeing little reason for hope, but still not so discouraged as to abandon his cause, formed an acquaintance which proved to be of incalculable value. How the acquaintance came about, we have no means of knowing. The authorities are so at variance with one another on the subject that there has been much difference of opinion as to the time when the acquaintance was formed. Irving and the larger number of modern writers have supposed that the events which resulted from this connection occurred soon after Columbus entered Spain. Harrisse, however, has pointed out with great acumen the difficulties in the way of accepting this supposition, and has established at least an overwhelming probability that the residence of the navigator with the Duke of Medina Celi extended from the early months of 1490 to the end of 1491.

At the beginning of the fifteenth century Spain was still very largely made up of principalities that were practically independent. Two of these were possessed and governed by the Dukes of Medina Sidonia and Medina Celi. In the wars against Naples, as well as in the long struggle against the Moors, these noblemen fitted out expeditions and conducted campaigns with something like regal independence and magnitude. They lived in royal splendour, and dispensed a royal hospitality. As their vast states lay along the sea-coast at the southwest of Spain, where they had ships and ports, as well as hosts of retainers, it is not singular that this enterprising refugee from the Spanish camp found his way into their domains.

With Medina Sidonia, Columbus seems to have had no special success, though the nobleman is reported to have given him many interviews. The very splendour of the project may have thrown over it such a colouring of improbability as to raise a feeling of distrust. To the hard-headed old hero of so many campaigns, the proposal was simply the undertaking of an Italian visionary.

But upon Medina Celi the navigator made a more favourable impression. Unfortunately, we are dependent for information almost solely upon the statements of the duke. But the narrative has the air of probability. He says that he entertained Columbus for two years at his house. At one time he had gone so far as to set apart and fit out several of his own ships for the purposes of an expedition; but it suddenly occurred to him that an enterprise of such magnitude and importance should go forth under no less sanction than that of the sovereign power. Finding that Columbus in his disappointment had decided to turn next to the king of France, the duke determined to write to Queen Isabella and recommend him strongly to her favourable consideration. Among other things, he wrote that the glory of such an enterprise, if successful, should be kept by the monarchs of Spain. Of the kind favour of the duke there can be no question; for the letter of introduction carried by Columbus is still preserved. This important document not only commends the bearer to favourable consideration, but it also asks that in case the favour should be granted, the duke himself might have the privilege of a share in the enterprise, and that the expedition might be fitted out at his own port of St. Marie, as a recompense for having waived his privilege in favour of the grant.

During the next year and a half the prospect seemed in no way more propitious. Columbus, even though he now had the support of Medina Celi, must have been reduced to something like desperation. The court was making preparations for a final campaign against Granada, with a full determination never to raise the siege until the Spanish flag should float above the last Moorish citadel. Columbus knew that when once the campaign should be entered upon, it would be vain to expect any attention to his cause. Accordingly, he pressed for an immediate answer. The sovereigns called upon the queen’s confessor, Talavera, to obtain the opinions of the scientific men and to report their decision. This order was complied with; but after due consideration, a majority decided that the proposed scheme was vain and impossible.

This answer would seem to have been, for the time at least, conclusive; but the men consulted were by no means unanimous. On the contrary, several of the learned members strenuously exerted themselves in favour of the enterprise. Of these the most earnest and influential was the friar Diego de Deza, who, owing to his influential position as tutor of Prince John, had ready access to the royal ear. The matter, therefore, was not peremptorily dismissed. The monarchs, instead of rejecting the application outright, ordered Talavera to inform Columbus that the expense of the war and the cares attending it made it impossible to undertake any new enterprise; but that when peace should be assured, the sovereigns would have leisure and inclination to reconsider the whole question.

Disheartened and indignant at what he considered nothing more than a courtly method of evading and dismissing his suit, Columbus resolved immediately to turn his back upon the Spanish court. For six years he had now pleaded his cause, apparently in vain. Hoping for nothing further, he determined to seek the patronage of the king of France.

It is interesting to note that, taking his boy Diego with him, he made his way to that very seaport town upon which a little later he was to bestow an undying fame by embarking from it on his memorable expedition. Notwithstanding the fact that Medina Celi had given him a home, he must have been reduced to extreme poverty. He seems not only to have travelled on foot, but also to have been under the necessity of begging even for a crust of bread.

Just before he was to reach the port at Palos, Columbus stopped at the gate of the convent of Santa Maria de la Rabida to ask for food and water for himself and his little boy. It happened that the prior of the convent was Juan Parez de Marchena, a friar who had once been the confessor of Queen Isabella. He appears to have had some geographical knowledge; for he at once interested himself in the conversation of Columbus, and was greatly impressed with the grandeur of his views. On hearing that the navigator was to abandon Spain and turn to the court of France, his patriotism was aroused. He not only urged the hospitality of the convent upon the traveller until further advice could be taken, but within a few days he enlisted two or three persons of influence for his cause. One of these was Garcia Fernandez, a physician; another was Martin Alonzo Pinzon, an experienced navigator of Palos. Pinzon, on hearing what was proposed, was so fully convinced of the feasibility of the plan that he offered to bear the expense of the new application, and, if successful, to assist the expedition with his purse and his person.

But it was to the prior of the convent that Columbus was to be most indebted. The result of their several interviews was the determination that the queen’s old confessor should make one further appeal. With this end in view, a courier was despatched with a letter. It was successful. After a wearisome journey of fourteen days, the messenger returned with a note summoning Perez to the royal court, then encamped about Granada. At midnight of the same day the prior mounted his mule and set out on his mission of persuasion.

On arriving at the camp, Perez was received with a welcome that gave him great freedom. As the queen’s old confessor, he had immediate access to the royal presence, and he pleaded the project of the navigator with fervid enthusiasm. He defended the scientific principles on which it was founded; he urged the unquestionable capacity of Columbus to carry out the undertaking; he pictured not only the advantages that must come from success, but also the glory that would accrue to the Government under whose patronage success should be achieved.

The queen listened with attention. It is interesting to note that the cause was warmly seconded by the queen’s favourite, the same Marchioness de Moya whose life had been imperilled by the dagger of the Moorish fanatic. A decision was reached without much delay. The queen not only requested that Columbus might be sent to her, but she gave the messengers a purse to bear the necessary expenses, and to enable the maritime suitor to travel and present himself with decency and comfort.

The successful friar at once returned to the convent, and reported the result of his mission to his waiting friends. Without delay, Columbus exchanged his garb for one suited to the atmosphere of the court, and set out for the royal presence.

In his journal, as quoted by Las Casas, Columbus tells us that he arrived at Granada in time to see the end of that memorable war. After a struggle of nearly eight hundred years, the Crescent had at length succumbed to the Cross, and the banners of Spain were planted on the highest tower of the Alhambra. The jubilee that followed had all the characteristics of Spanish magnificence. But in these festivities Columbus probably took only the part of an observer. By one of the Spanish historians he is represented as “melancholy and dejected in the midst of general rejoicings.”

As soon as the festivities were over, his cause had a hearing. Fernando de Talavera, now elevated to the archbishopric of Granada, was appointed to carry on the negotiations. At the very outset, however, difficulties arose that seemed to be insuperable. Columbus would listen to none but princely conditions. He made the stupendous mistake of demanding that he should be admiral and viceroy over all the countries he might discover. As pecuniary compensation, he also asked for a tenth of all gains either by trade or conquest.

It can hardly be considered singular that the courtiers were indignant at what they regarded as his extravagant requirements. Though Columbus had seen much and hard service at sea, his experience hitherto had not been of a nature to reveal any extraordinary ability. For six years he had been simply a wandering suppliant for royal favour. What he now demanded was to be put into the very highest rank in the realm. As admiral and viceroy he would stand next to the sovereigns on land, as well as on sea. What he asked as compensation, though it would stimulate every temptation to abuse, was not of so unreasonable a nature. But to promote this obscure navigator, and a foreigner at that, over all the veterans who had for perhaps half a century been faithfully earning recognition, seemed very naturally to the archbishop preposterous indeed. One of the courtiers observed with a sneer that it was a shrewd arrangement that he proposed, whereby in any event he would have the honor of the command and the rank, while he had nothing whatever to lose in case of failure. Though Columbus, doubtless remembering the offer of Pinzon, offered to furnish one eighth of the cost, on condition of having one eighth of the profits, his terms were pronounced inadmissible. The commission represented to the queen that, even in case of success, the demands would be exorbitant, while in case of failure, as evidence of extraordinary credulity, they would subject the Crown to ridicule.

More than all this, the terms demanded were of such a nature as to stir the jealousy and hostility of all the less fortunate naval commanders. Columbus has been represented by Irving and many of the other biographers as having shown in these demands a loftiness of spirit and a firmness of purpose that are worthy of the highest commendation. But when one looks at the far-reaching consequences of the terms insisted upon, one can hardly fail to see in them the source of very much of the unhappiness and opposition that followed him throughout his career. The strenuousness of his terms, by throwing wide open the door to every form of abuse, detracted from his happiness and diminished his claim to greatness.

But Columbus would listen to nothing less than all these conditions. More moderate terms were offered, and such as now seem in every way to have been honourable and advantageous. But all was in vain. He would not cede a single point in his demands. The negotiations accordingly had to be broken off. He determined to abandon the court of Spain forever rather than detract one iota from the dignity of the great enterprise he had in view. We are told that, taking leave of his friends, he mounted his mule and sallied forth from Santa Fé, intending immediately to present his cause at the court of France.

But no sooner had he gone than the friends who had ardently supported him were filled with something like consternation. They determined to make one last appeal directly to the queen. The agents of this movement were the royal treasurer, Luis de Santangel, and Alonzo de Quintanilla. Santangel was the one who presented the cause. On two points he placed special stress, and he urged them with great power and eloquence. The first may be condensed into the phrase that while the loss would, in any event, be but trifling, the gain, in case of success, would be incalculable. In the second place he urged that if the enterprise were not undertaken by Spain, it would doubtless be taken up by one of the rival nations and carried to triumphant success. He then appealed to what the queen was in the habit of doing for the glory of God, the exaltation of the Church, and the extension of her own power and dominion. Here, it was urged, was an opportunity to surpass them all. He called attention to the offer of Columbus to bear an eighth of the expense, and advised her that the requisites for the enterprise would not exceed three thousand crowns. The Marchioness de Moya was present, and added her eloquence to that of Santangel.

These representations had the desired effect, and the queen resolved on the spot to undertake the enterprise. The story, so often repeated, that the queen pledged her jewels for the necessary expense, rests upon no contemporaneous evidence, and has recently been shown to be extremely improbable. It was not necessary, for Santangel declared that he was ready to supply the money out of the treasury of Aragon. The adoption of the cause by the queen was complete and unconditional.

It was in the narrow pass at the foot of Mount Elvira, a few miles from Granada, that the swift messenger of this good news overtook Columbus on his dejected retreat. No very fertile fancy is required to imagine with some confidence the emotions of the explorer as he listened to the story of the queen’s new decision. Turning the rein, he hastened his jaded mule with all possible speed to the royal court at Santa Fé.

For reasons which it is not easy to understand, there were still considerable delays before the requisite papers received their final signature. Whether there were disagreements still to be adjusted cannot now be known. Columbus returned to the court early in February, but it was not until the 17th of April that the stipulations had been duly made out and signed.

In form the papers were the work of the royal secretary, but they received the assent and signature of both monarchs. The principal commission is of so much importance that it is here given in full:—

1. First, your Highnesses, in virtue of your dominion over the said seas, shall constitute from this time forth the said Don Christopher Columbus your admiral in all the islands and territories which he may discover or acquire in the said seas, this power to continue in him during his life, and at his death to descend to his heirs and successors from one to another perpetually, with all the dignities and prerogatives appertaining to the said office, and according to the manner in which this dignity has been held by Don Alonzo Henriquez, your High Admiral of Castile, and by the other admirals in their several districts.

2. Furthermore, your Highnesses shall constitute the said Don Christopher Columbus your viceroy and governor-general in all the said islands and territories to be discovered in the said seas; and for the government of each place three persons shall be named by him, out of which number your Highnesses shall select one to hold the office in question.

3. Furthermore, in the acquisition by trade, discovery, or any other method, of all goods, merchandise, pearls, precious stones, gold, silver, spices, and all other articles, within the limits of the said admiralty, the tenth part of their value shall be the property of the said Don Christopher Columbus, after deducting the amount expended in obtaining them, and the other nine tenths shall be the property of your Highnesses.

4. Furthermore, if any controversy or law-suit should arise in these territories relating to the goods which he may obtain there, or relating to any goods which others may obtain by trade in the same places, the jurisdiction in the said cases shall, by virtue of his office of admiral, pertain to him alone or his deputy, provided the said prerogative belong to the office of admiral, according as that dignity has been held by the above-mentioned Admiral Don Alonzo Henriquez, and the others of that rank in their several districts, and provided the said regulation be just.

5. Furthermore, in the fitting out of any fleets for the purpose of trade in the said territories, the said Don Christopher Columbus shall on every such occasion be allowed the privilege of furnishing one eighth of the expenses of the expedition, and shall at such times receive an eighth part of the profits arising therefrom.

In the formal commission we find these words:

“We therefore by this commission confer on you the office of admiral, viceroy, and governor, to be held in hereditary possession forever, with all the privileges and salaries pertaining thereto.”

Surely these were extraordinary powers. From any unjust exercise of supreme authority in the lands Columbus might discover, there was to be no appeal. The authority was limited, moreover, by neither custom nor method. In the matter of governorships he was to have the sole right of nomination, and in all questions of dispute in regard to his own interest in goods obtained either by himself or by anybody else, he or his deputy was to have sole jurisdiction.

The temptation to exercise these powers for the oppression of a barbarous people would seem, even under the most favourable circumstances, to be quite as much as human nature could bear. But the circumstances were not favourable. The danger was in the fact that a high pecuniary premium was put upon the abuse of authority.

The promise of a tenth of all that the Admiral might acquire by trade, discovery, “or any other method,” was a powerful stimulant to cruelty and cupidity. Unfortunately, the age was one when every people that did not avow Christianity was regarded as legitimate spoil for the Christian invader. This fact took away the last feeble guarantee of public opinion. In estimating the character of Columbus we must remember that he was subjected to the temptations of unlimited authority, of immeasurable opportunity, and of exemption from all accountability, either to the Government or to public opinion. His place in history must ultimately be determined by the manner in which it shall be shown that he administered this trust.

The fact should not be overlooked that there was always a powerful religious motive in all the plans of Columbus. One of his purposes in seeking to reach eastern Asia by sailing westward was an opening of the way for the conversion of the people to Christianity. His writings abound in expressions of this desire. In all his plans for his expedition he made prominent his wish to gain the means necessary for the conquest of the Holy Land. In his nature and his faith there was much of the religious zeal of the mediæval Crusader, united with a tendency to indulge in the fervid religious rhetoric of the seventeenth-century Puritan. Columbus hoped, by these explorations in the west, to acquire the means of succeeding in that enterprise of bringing Jerusalem back into the control of Christianity, which for three centuries had baffled the efforts of all Christendom.

During the six long years of Columbus’s waiting in Spain, the relations of Ferdinand and Isabella to the projects of Columbus were such as to merit our high commendation. We have seen that immediately after his cause was presented to the sovereigns for consideration, it was referred to the most learned men in the vicinity of the court. It is difficult to conjecture how any disposition of the question could, at that time, have been more appropriate. Whenever the subject was presented anew, a similar reference of the subject was made. From no one of these references was there received a favourable report. But when the war had been brought to a close, and when, in consequence, there was opportunity for a personal examination of the matter, the whole subject was taken into sympathetic consideration. The romantic and religious elements of the project appealed strongly to Isabella. Ferdinand acted with characteristic caution. The needed money appears to have been taken from the chest of the king, but only on condition that in due time it should be restored, if need be, from the chest of the queen. Thus it may be said that the husband loaned the trifling subsidy necessary for the enterprise, on the security of his wife. This arrangement suited both monarchs, and therefore both signed the commissions of the Admiral.

If we were asked for the names of those who rendered the highest service to Columbus during this trying period, the answer would not be easy. In the immediate vicinity of the court Alfonso de Quintanilla was the first to espouse his cause with ardour, and he remained an unswerving advocate. Among those to whom the cause was submitted for advice, the ecclesiastic, Diego de Deza, is entitled to the credit of having been the first and the most faithful of supporters. The Duke of Medina Celi gave to the navigator the support which detained him at a moment when he seemed to be on the point of abandoning Spain forever. The friar of La Rabida, Juan Parez de Marchena, the old confessor of the queen, made a successful effort to renew the suit after all hope had been abandoned. And finally, when the demands of Columbus seemed preposterous for their magnitude, the united efforts of Santangel, the Marchioness de Moya, Quintanilla, and Talavera succeeded in bringing the queen up to the point of a favourable decision. To all of these advocates no small quota of the credit for success is due. But in distributing this credit there must be no forgetting or obscuring of the work of Columbus himself. We have seen that the advocacy of the navigator was full of inconsistencies and extravagances. He was a foreigner, and one that looked very much like an adventurer. The time and the circumstances seemed the most inopportune. All these facts argued strongly against his cause. But in spite of them all, his knowledge, his courage, his faith, his tact, and his persistency were enough to hold a band of powerful advocates firmly to his great cause, and, in the end, bring it to success. Whatever abatements from an unreasonable glorification of Columbus modern research may feel compelled to make, these are great qualities, which the progress of time can never efface or obscure.

CHAPTER III.
THE FIRST VOYAGE.

The commission of Columbus bore date of April 30, 1492. On the same day was signed a royal requisition on the inhabitants of the town of Palos, requiring them to furnish at their own expense two caravels for the expedition. This singular proceeding was in consequence of some offence which the town had given the king and queen, for which the people had been condemned to render the service of two vessels for the period of twelve months, whenever the royal pleasure should call for them. The vessels moreover were to be armed at the expense of the town. Within ten days from the sight of the letter the authorities were required to have the two vessels in complete readiness for the enterprise. The royal treasury was also further relieved by the fact that they were required to furnish the money for the wages of the crew during a period of four months.

Another royal order bearing the same date was of greater importance in its influence on the character of the expedition. All the magistrates in the realm were informed that “every person belonging to the crews of the fleet of said Christopher Columbus” were “exempt from all hindrance or incommodity either in their persons or goods;” and that they were “privileged from arrest or detention on account of any offence or crime which may have been committed by them up to the date of this instrument, and during the time they may be on the voyage, and for two months after their return to their homes.”

This remarkable order must have been inspired by the fear that the requisite crews for the vessels could not readily be obtained. The special inducements held out to the criminal classes appealed to every debtor, to every defaulter, and to every criminal. Here was immunity from the pursuit of justice. Such an order could hardly have failed to have a powerful influence on the character of the crew. The fleet became a refuge for runaway criminals and debtors; and accordingly it was not singular that sailors of respectability were slow to enlist. Popular opinion at Palos was violently opposed to the expedition. Though the town was required to furnish two caravels within ten days after receiving the royal order, weeks passed before the necessary vessels could be procured. A third ship was provided for out of the funds furnished for the expedition. Every shipowner refused to lend his vessel for the enterprise. Another royal order had to be issued, authorizing Columbus to press the ships and men into the service. Meanwhile the mariners of Palos held aloof, partly in the belief that the proposed expedition was simply the work of a monomaniac, and partly from the fact that the ships had been made a refuge for criminals. But Juan Parez, the friar whose influence had already made itself so powerfully felt, was active in persuading men to embark. The Pinzons, who, it will be remembered, had offered to defray one eighth of the expense, now came forward to aid the enterprise with their money and their personal service. Agreeing to take command of two of the vessels, their wealth and their influence gave a new impulse to the undertaking. But enlistments went forward very slowly; and even after men had been enrolled, the least cause of dissatisfaction induced them to desert. In the putting of the ships in order, the work was so badly done as to justify the suspicion that a deliberate effort was put forth to make them unseaworthy.

Though the sovereigns had supposed that ten days would be time enough to put the fleet in readiness for the voyage, it was with the utmost difficulty that the work was accomplished in ten weeks. Columbus had chosen small vessels of less than a hundred tons’ burden each, believing that they would be better adapted for service along the coast and in the rivers. It has been estimated that even the longest of them was only sixty-five feet in length, and not more than twenty feet in breadth. The “Santa Maria,” commanded by the Admiral himself, was the only one that was decked midships. The others, the “Pinta” and the “Nina,” were built high in the prow and stern, that they might the more easily mount the waves, and were covered only at the ends. The “Pinta” was commanded by Columbus’s old friend Martin Alonzo Pinzon, while his brother, Vincente Yañez Pinzon, was captain of the “Nina.” On all the ships there were a hundred and twenty souls, ninety of them being mariners.

Harrisse has computed the sum provided for the expedition at 1,640,000 maravedis, or about $3640. Of this amount Santangel, as the agent of the monarchs, furnished 1,140,000 maravedis, while Columbus, aided by the Pinzons, provided the remaining five hundred thousand. The fleet’s contingent contained a notary for drawing up necessary papers, and a historiographer to put the story in formal order. There was an interpreter learned in all Asiatic tongues, and a metallurgist to examine the ores. Though the fleet was equipped with a physician and a surgeon, it does not appear that it had a priest. The squadron was at length ready to put to sea. We are told that on the last days before sailing, everybody in Palos was impressed with the solemnity of the undertaking. Officers and crew united in going to the church in the most formal manner and confessing themselves, and after partaking of the sacrament, in committing themselves to the special guidance and protection of Heaven. It was an hour before sunrise, on Friday, the 3d of August, when the ships were cut from their moorings and entered upon their perilous adventure.

Fortunately we are not without Columbus’s own account of this voyage. The Admiral kept a diary, which, though it is not now known to be in existence, was carefully epitomized by Las Casas, and the abstract, very largely in Columbus’s own words, is preserved. There are also still in existence the two letters of Columbus by means of which the great discovery was formally announced to the world. It is to these three priceless documents that we are chiefly indebted for our knowledge of the voyage. In the introduction to the diary Columbus says: “I determined to keep an account of the voyage, and to write down punctually everything we performed or saw from day to day.” He also adds: “Moreover, besides describing every night the occurrences of the day, and every day those of the preceding night, I intend to draw up a nautical chart which shall contain the several parts of the ocean and land in their proper situations; and also to compose a book to represent the whole by pictures, with latitudes and longitudes, on all which accounts it behooves me to abstain from sleep and make many efforts in navigation, which things will demand much labour.”

The contemplated geographical work was never written; but the purpose of the navigator is of interest, as it creates a presumption in favor of carefulness in the preparation of the diary.

The general course of the fleet was in a southwesterly direction, the purpose being to touch at the Canary Islands. This intention was fortunate; for on Monday, the fourth day out, the rudder of the “Pinta” become loose, and threatened to make a continuance of the voyage with this vessel impossible. The Admiral suspected that the accident happened with the connivance of disaffected members of the crew. Many of the men had shown an uncompromising opposition to the expedition before setting out, and there could be no doubt that any accident that would interrupt the voyage would be most welcome. The “Pinta,” however, was in command of Martin Alonzo Pinzon, an officer of capacity and courage, to whose faith in the enterprise Columbus had already been largely indebted while fitting out the fleet and securing the crew. The skill and vigour of the commander caused the rudder to be put in place; but it was again unshipped on the following day, and it was necessary to put into port for repairs.

Owing to delays occasioned by the condition of the “Pinta,” it was not until the 12th of August that the little fleet reached port in one of the Canary Islands. Here it was found that the condition of the disabled caravel was worse than had been supposed. Besides having her rudder out of order, she was leaky, and the form of her sails seemed not to be adapted to the perils of an Atlantic voyage. Columbus tried to find another vessel for which he could effect an exchange; however, he was not successful, and so it was found necessary to delay the voyage until the little ship could be put into seaworthy condition. The rudder was made secure, the form of the sails was changed, and every practicable precaution was taken to prevent leakage. But it was not until the 6th of September—more than a month from the day of leaving the port at Palos—that the fleet was once more ready to sail.

During the stay at the Canaries two or three interesting things happened. Columbus reports that they “saw a great eruption of flames from the Peak of Teneriffe, which is a lofty mountain.” But more important to the matter in hand were the several reports he heard in regard to the existence of land in the west. The Admiral says he “was assured by many respectable Spaniards inhabiting the island of Ferro that they every year saw land to the west of the Canaries,” and also that “others of Gomera affirmed the same with the like assurances.” He also makes note of the fact that when he was “in Portugal in 1484 there came a person to the king from the island of Madeira soliciting a vessel to go in quest of land, which he affirmed he saw every year, and always of the same appearance.” Still further he says that “he remembers the same was said by the inhabitants of the Azores, and described as in a similar direction, and of the same shape and size.”

This interesting delusion, which is supposed to have had its origin in certain meteoric appearances, had taken a firm hold of the credulity of the people. The country which they imagined they saw in the west bore the name of the isle of Brandon, in commemoration of Saint Brandon, a Benedictine monk of the sixth century, who, it was believed, spent seven years in the region to which his name was finally given. Belief in the existence of land not very far west of the Canary group was current in the fifteenth century, and several expeditions were undertaken, by order of the king of Portugal, for the discovery of this mystical continent. As yet, however, the repeated failures of these efforts had not convinced the inhabitants of the islands west of Africa that land within any possible range of vision from the Canaries had no existence except in the imaginations of the beholders. The special connection of this credulity with the expedition of Columbus is in the influence which it must have had upon the spirits of the crew. While there was an air of mystery about it that may have been depressing to certain temperaments, to the mass of the crew it can hardly have failed to give some encouragement. But at the same time it undoubtedly provided the way for a depressing reaction when, after days of fruitless sailing, no land was discovered.

On the morning of the 6th of September the little fleet put out from the harbour of Gomera and entered again upon its course. A report was brought by a vessel from the neighbouring island of Ferro that there were three Portuguese caravels cruising in search of Columbus. This circumstance was interpreted to mean a hostile intent on the part of the king of Portugal, owing to the fact that the Admiral had abandoned his service and resorted to the patronage of Spain. But if the report was true, the Spanish squadron was successful in evading its enemies. The course now taken was due west; but owing to a strong head-sea, progress for several days was very slow.

We have already had occasion to see that Columbus never attached very great importance to the matter of precision in the statement of fact. The recent scrutiny to which his writings have been subjected has revealed so many contradictions and inaccuracies that we are forced into the belief that he often used words in a very general rather than in a specific and strictly accurate sense. We shall not infrequently have occasion to note this habit of mind,—a peculiarity which it will be necessary to remember if we would form an accurate conclusion as to the value of his testimony. He seems not to have been without conscience; but it is not too much to say that whenever there was a powerful motive for misrepresentation, Columbus did not hesitate to ask himself whether the end would not justify the means. The modern ethical standard, which requires absolute truthfulness at all hazards, did not prevail at the end of the fifteenth century; but it is not without much regret that even at that period we find one whom we would gladly rank as a moral hero admitting frankly that he systematically prevaricated in order to convey a false impression. If, on the one hand, there are those who will succeed in finding adequate excuse for the misrepresentation indulged in, on the other it will be hard to find any one who will regard such misrepresentation as a characteristic of lofty conscientiousness.

In the journal of September 9 we find this entry:—

“Sailed this day nineteen leagues, and determined to count less than the true number, that the crew might not be dismayed if the voyage should prove long.”

On the following day Columbus says,—

“This day and night sailed sixty leagues, at the rate of ten miles an hour, which are two leagues and a half. Reckoned only forty-eight leagues, that the crew might not be terrified if they should be long upon the voyage.”

In the days following, similar entries were made, always with the same end in view. Interesting evidences of life were often observed. On the 13th of September one of the crew saw a tropical bird, which, it was believed, never goes farther than twenty-five leagues from land. On the 16th large patches of weed were found which appeared to have been recently washed away from land; on account of which the Admiral writes that “they judged themselves to be near some island;” “the continent,” continues the narrator, “we shall find farther ahead.” These indications multiplied from day to day. On the 18th the “Pinta,” which, notwithstanding her bad condition, was a swift sailer, ran ahead of the other vessels, the captain having informed the Admiral that he had seen large flocks of birds toward the west, and that he expected that night to reach land. Though as yet they had only reached the centre of the Atlantic, on the 19th the ships were visited by two pelicans,—birds which, it was said, were not accustomed to go twenty leagues from land. On the 21st the ocean seemed to be covered with weeds; and the same day a whale was seen,—“an indication of land,” says the journal, “as whales always keep near the coast.” The next day a wind sprang up, whereupon the Admiral observes: “This head-wind was very necessary to me, for my crew had grown much alarmed, dreading that they never should meet in these seas with a fair wind to return to Spain.”

On September 25 the disappointing monotony of these indications was interrupted. At sunset Pinzon called out from his vessel that he saw land. The Admiral says, when he heard him declare this, he fell down on his knees and returned thanks to God. Pinzon and his crew repeated “Gloria in excelsis Deo,” as did the crew of the Admiral. Those on board the “Nina” ascended the rigging, and all declared that they saw land. The Admiral judged that the land was distant about twenty-five leagues. It was not until the afternoon of the 26th that they discovered that what they had taken for land was nothing but clouds.

As revealed by the journal, the events of each day were much like those of every other. The most striking feature of the voyage was the constantly occurring indications of land. After the little fleet passed mid-ocean there was scarcely a day that did not bring some sign that beckoned them on. Seaweed abounded, and as a sounding of two hundred fathoms revealed nothing but a steady undercurrent of the ocean, the weeds could not have come from the bottom of the sea. At one time a green rush was found, which, the commanders thought, must have grown in the open air, with its roots in the soil. At another, a piece of wood was taken aboard that gave unmistakable signs of having been somewhat curiously wrought by the hand of man. But the most significant tokens were the birds. They appeared in considerable numbers almost, if not quite, every day, many of them known to be unaccustomed to wander for any very great distance from land. To every thinking man on board the squadron they seemed to give evidence absolutely unmistakable that they were not far from land, and that the object of their expedition was likely to be successful. The birds, moreover, so far as any general direction of their flying could be regarded as an indication, seemed to have their home in a southwesterly direction. This fact led the commander of the “Pinta” to urge the Admiral to change his course. At first Columbus thought it best, in spite of the course of the birds, to keep on due west. But at length the indications were so unmistakable and so persistent that he yielded, and set the rudders for a southwesterly course. But for this incident, seemingly very trifling in itself, the fleet, as Humboldt has remarked, would have entered the Gulf Stream before touching land, and would have been borne to a landfall somewhere on the coast of the future United States.

Many of the later historians of Columbus, taking the hint from Oviedo, have given graphic pictures of the way in which the skill and the tact of the Admiral prevented the crew of the fleet from breaking out into mutinous revolt and turning the vessels toward home. It has been said that at one time there was a serious purpose of throwing the Admiral into the sea, and declaring that he fell overboard while making an observation; at another, that Columbus found himself compelled to promise that unless land was discovered within three days, he would abandon the expedition, turn about, and sail for home. But these stories must now, for the most part, be regarded as apocryphal. None of them are mentioned by Columbus himself, nor do they appear in the other early accounts of the voyage. No hint of mutiny or even of any lack of due subordination appears in the searching trials of 1513 and 1515, when every event that could possibly have a bearing upon the methods of Columbus was brought upon the witness-stand. As a matter of fact, the voyage was for the most part an uneventful one, save as its placid progress was occasionally excited by the variations of the compass, an unusual amount of seaweed, or an unwonted flight of birds. That the hopes and fears of the crews were alert cannot of course be doubted, but there is no evidence sufficient to justify the belief that the life of the Admiral or the advance of the expedition was ever in serious danger.

In the evening of the 11th of October, Columbus thought that he discovered a light moving with fitful gleams in the darkness. He called to him two of his companions, one of whom confirmed his impression, while the other could not. The journal says that “The Admiral again perceived it once or twice, appearing like the light of a candle moving up and down, which some thought an indication of land.” But evidently Columbus did not regard this as a discovery, for he not only reminded the crew of the reward of a pension that awaited the one who should first see land, but he also offered a silk doublet as an additional inducement to the search. They were still some forty-two miles from the coast, which lies so low that it could hardly have been seen at a distance of twenty. It was four hours later that land was first unmistakably seen in the moonlight, at a distance of about two leagues. There can be no question that if a light was really seen at all, it was on a boat at some distance from the shore. A reward of ten thousand maravedis per year had been promised by the king and queen to the person on the expedition who should first descry land. Columbus in his journal admits that land was first seen and announced by Rodrigo de Triana of the “Pinta” at two o’clock on the morning of October 12th; and it would be a pleasure to record that he subsequently had sufficient magnanimity to waive his own very absurd claim in favour of the poor sailor to whom it was so justly due. But after his return he set up the demand for himself; and to him it was promptly adjudged and paid by the king and queen. It is said that the poor sailor, thinking himself ignobly defrauded, renounced Christianity and went to live among the Mohammedans, whom he regarded as a juster people.

It was then on Friday, October 12, that the fleet first came to land upon an island which the natives called Guanahani. Early in the morning Columbus and the brothers Pinzon and the notary entered a boat with the royal standard and made for the shore. The rest of the crews immediately followed. As soon as they had landed, the requisite formalities were performed, and witnesses were summoned to note that, before all others, Columbus took possession of the island for the king and queen, his sovereigns. He gave it the name of San Salvador.

Over the question as to the spot where Columbus first landed there has been much difference of opinion. The narrative of the Admiral concerning this important part of his voyage, though it has been preserved entire, is not so free from ambiguities, or so definite in its positive statements, as to relieve the subject of doubt. The reckoning of Columbus, moreover, on the matter of longitude and latitude was not sufficiently accurate to throw much light on the subject. Accordingly, several of the Bahamas have had their advocates. The modern San Salvador, or Cat Island, was believed to be the place of landing by Humboldt and Irving. South of Cat Island lie Watling’s, Samana, Acklin, and the Grand Turk; and no one of them has been without its ardent supporters. Recently, however, the most careful students of the problem have unmistakably drifted toward the belief that the spot of the landfall should be confidently fixed upon Watling’s Island.

The arguments in favour of this locality were first elaborately set forth by Captain Becher in a volume published in 1856, and were followed by Peschel two years later in his “History of Modern Discovery.” Mr. R. H. Major, a careful student of the subject, was for many years inclined to favour Turk’s Island; but in 1870 he conceded that the weight of evidence was in favour of Watling’s. Lieutenant Murdock of the American navy and Mr. Charles A. Schott of the United States Coast Survey reached the same conclusion by independent studies in 1884, as did also Mr. Clements R. Markham in 1889. Finally, and perhaps most important of all, the Bahamas were visited and this problem was carefully studied in November of 1890 by the German explorer Herr Rudolf Cronau, with the result of establishing Watling’s Island as the site of the landfall beyond any reasonable doubt.

Cronau’s investigations are twofold in their nature: the first point of his inquiry being devoted to the reasons for thinking Watling’s the island on which Columbus landed; the second, to establishing the point at which the landfall took place. Though it is on this last point that special significance is to be attached to his investigations, it may not be out of place to give a brief summary of the argument as a whole.

Columbus describes the island as low, covered with abundant and luxuriant vegetation, and as having a large body of water in the interior. In one place he speaks of the island as “small,” at another as “pretty large.” After the first landing, he goes N. N. E. in the small boats, and soon passes through a narrow entrance into a harbour “large enough to accommodate the fleets of Christendom.” In this harbour he discovers an admirable site of a fort, which he describes with minute care. He says, moreover, that the part of the island visited is protected by an outlying reef of rocks not far from the shore. Las Casas, who became very familiar with the islands during the life of Columbus, and who probably knew where the first landing was made, states that the form of the island was oblong, or “bean-shaped.” The length of Watling’s Island is about twelve English miles, the breadth between four and six. All these characteristics apply to Watling’s, and in their entirety they apply to no other.

There are, however, certain difficulties in the way of accepting this theory. The most serious is the fact that the rocks off the northern, eastern, and southern parts of the island are so formidable as to offer no safe place for anchorage, and that an approach from none of these directions could afford the view described by Columbus. It is in meeting this difficulty that the ingenious theory of Cronau is of importance. It is in substance as follows.

The journal of Columbus tells us that on Thursday, October 11, the ships “encountered a heavier sea than they had met with before in the whole voyage.” It also states that in the course of twenty-four hours they made the remarkable run of fifty-nine leagues, running at times “ten miles an hour, at others twelve, at others seven.” In the evening of the 11th, “from sunset till two hours after midnight,” the average rate was “twelve miles an hour.” It was at ten o’clock that Columbus reports that he saw the light, and consequently the vessel must have advanced forty-eight miles before two o’clock on the morning of the 12th, when land was seen by Triana from the “Pinta.” These facts, together with the extraordinary length of the run on the 11th, indicate unmistakably that the roughness of the sea was caused by a strong easterly wind, for by no other means could so rapid an advance have been made. At “two o’clock,” says the Admiral, “land was discovered at a distance of two leagues.” In which direction the land lay is not indicated. All sails “except the square sail” were taken in, and the vessels “lay to” till day,—probably about four or five hours. The supposition of Cronau is that a wind which up to two o’clock carried them when under full sail twelve miles an hour, must have borne the ships, when under square sail, at least ten or fifteen miles before dawn. It would have been impossible in a heavy sea to land on the rocky coast of the east side; and whatever the advance, it must have been either on the north or on the south. It seems reasonable to suppose that the fleet found itself at the break of day west of the island. In any case, good seamanship required that they should seek anchorage in a high wind on the lee, or west side; and accordingly, the only natural course was for them to turn about and approach the island from the west. On the supposition that this course was pursued, no difficulties whatever are found in reconciling Columbus’s narrative with the present condition of the island. At about the middle of the west coast the locality at present known as Riding Rocks must have presented then, as it does now, an inviting anchorage. All the features of the coast as described by Columbus are now easily identified. The sail to the N. E. E., which under any other hypothesis presents insurmountable difficulties, is now easily explained. Taking a boat and following along the same course, Cronau entered the mouth of the harbour, and readily distinguished all the characteristics described by the Admiral.

If the data given by Columbus afford no very definite clew to the spot on which the landing took place, his account of what he saw, especially of the people, is so replete with interest as to justify a quotation of some length. After describing the formalities of the taking possession of the island, and noting that the trees seemed very green, that there were many streams of water and divers sorts of fruits, Columbus gives the following graphic account of the natives:—

“As I saw that they were very friendly to us, and perceived that they could be much more easily converted to our holy faith by gentle means than by force, I presented them with some red caps, and strings of beads to wear upon the neck, and many other trifles of small value, wherewith they were much delighted, and became wonderfully attached to us. Afterwards they came swimming to the boats, bringing parrots, balls of cotton thread, javelins, and many other things, which they exchanged for articles we gave them, such as glass beads and hawk’s bells, which trade was carried on with the utmost good will. But they seemed on the whole to me to be a very poor people. They all go completely naked, even the women, though I saw but one girl. All whom I saw were young, not above thirty years of age, well made, with fine shapes and faces; their hair short and coarse like that of a horse’s tail, combed toward the forehead, except a small portion which they suffer to hang down behind, and never cut. Some paint themselves with black, which makes them appear like those of the Canaries, neither black nor white; others with white, others with red, and others with such colours as they can find. Some paint the face, and some the whole body; others only the eyes, and others the nose. Weapons they have none, nor are they acquainted with them; for I showed them swords, which they grasped by the blades, and cut themselves through ignorance. They have no iron, their javelins being without it, and nothing more than sticks, though some have fish-bones or other things at the ends. They are all of a good size and stature, and handsomely formed. I saw some with scars of wounds upon their bodies, and demanded by signs the cause of them. They answered me in the same way, that there came people from the other islands in the neighbourhood who endeavoured to make prisoners of them, and they defended themselves. I thought then, and still believe, that these were from the continent. It appears to me that the people are ingenious, and would be very good servants; and I am of the opinion that they would readily become Christians, as they appear to have no religion. They very quickly learn such words as are spoken to them. If it please our Lord, I intend at my return to carry home six of them to your Highnesses, that they may learn our language. I saw no beasts in the island, nor any sort of animals except parrots.”

The next three months of this renowned expedition were spent in going from island to island, in making brief visits to the various places that seemed to promise any interesting or important revelation, and in seeking for objects of interest and value. The Admiral was in constant hope of learning something that would direct him to Cipango. In all the islands the people were found to speak the same language and to have the same general characteristics. After visiting and exploring Long Island and Saometo, which he respectively named Fernandina and Isabella, he at length, on the 21st day of October, landed on the northern coast of a large island which the natives called Colba. This was the modern Cuba. He explored the picturesque region far to the west, and found it so large that he supposed it to be a continent. The Indians, however, informed him that it was only an island. As he perceived neither towns nor villages near the sea-coast, but only scattered habitations, the people of which fled at his approach, he sent two of his men into the interior to learn whether the inhabitants had either king or chief. The men, after an absence of three days, reported that they found a vast number of settlements built of wood and straw, with “innumerable people.” Yet they were able to discover no indications of any kind of government. To the island the name Juana was given, in honor of Don Juan.

Columbus did not attempt to circumnavigate the island. After coasting far to the west, and noting carefully the rivers and harbours, he resolved to retrace his course. From the point where the first landing was made, he sailed a hundred and seven leagues toward the east, when he came to a cape from which he reports that he saw another island, about eighteen leagues away. This was the island now known as San Domingo, or Hayti, to which Columbus gave the name Hispaniola. Sailing thither, and skirting along its northern coast, the explorers found it more beautiful even than any of the others they had seen. The journal describes the harbours as far more safe and commodious than any to be found in Christian countries; the rivers were large and noble, the land was high, with beautiful mountains and lofty ridges covered with a thousand varieties of beautiful trees that “seemed to reach to heaven.” Most gratifying of all, they learned from the Indians that there were “large mines of fine gold.”

It was here that Columbus decided to establish the first permanent settlement. Through the carelessness of the pilot, however, the Admiral’s own vessel struck upon a rock off the northwestern coast of the island, and, finally, in spite of all the efforts of the crew, had gone to pieces. The assistance rendered by the natives in rescuing the stores of the wreck afforded touching evidence of their friendly feeling. The timbers of the ship furnished the material for a structure that should at once be a storehouse and a fort. It was resolved to leave provisions for a year, together with seeds and implements for the cultivation of the soil.

As to the number of the crew that were left at this new settlement, the authorities do not agree. It is probable, however, that there were about forty. In the narrative of Columbus, the words are these: “I have directed that there shall be provided a store of timber for the construction of the fort, with a provision of bread and wine for more than a year, seed for planting, the long boat of the ship, a calker, a carpenter, a gunner, a cooper, and many other persons among the number of those who have earnestly desired to serve your Highnesses and oblige me by remaining here, and searching for the gold mine.” As the wreck and the consequent determination to build a fort and establish a colony occurred on Christmas Day, the Admiral named the new settlement “La Navidad.”

The people of the island manifested a most friendly disposition. The abode of the king was about a league and a half distant from the shoal where the wreck had taken place. Columbus relates that when the Spanish messengers informed the cacique of the misfortune, he “shed tears and despatched all the people of the town with large canoes to unload the ship.” Again he says that the king, “with his brothers and relations, came to the shore and took every care that the goods should be brought safely to land and carefully preserved. From time to time, he sent his relations to the Admiral, weeping and consoling him, and entreating him not to be afflicted at his loss, for he would give him all he had.” The Admiral still further observes that “in no part of Castile would more strict care have been taken of the goods, that the smallest trifle be not lost.” And again: “The king ordered several houses to be cleared for the purpose of storing the goods.” On the following day, Wednesday, December 26, the Admiral’s journal contains this memorandum: “At sunrise the king of the country visited the Admiral on board the ‘Nina,’ and with tears in his eyes entreated him not to indulge in grief, for he would give him all he had; that he had already assigned the Spaniards on shore two large houses, and, if necessary, would grant others, and as many canoes as could be used in bringing the goods and crew to land,—which, in fact, he had done the day before, without the smallest trifle being purloined.” In forming an opinion of a policy which in a few years completely annihilated the inhabitants of these islands, this estimate of their character ought not to be forgotten.

Before leaving this settlement, Columbus took the precaution to give to the natives an exhibition of the force of fire-arms. A lombard was loaded and fired against the side of the stranded ship. The shot, much to the amazement of the natives, passed through the hull of the vessel, and struck the water on the farther side. He also gave them a representation of a battle fought by parties of the crew, and conducted in accordance with Christian methods. This was done, as he informs us, “to strike terror into the inhabitants and make them friendly to the Spaniards left behind.”

Having left the settlement in charge of Diego de Arana, and three others as subordinate officers, and having conferred upon them all the powers he had himself received from the king and queen, Columbus prepared to enter upon his homeward voyage. The commander of the “Pinta,” who, as we shall presently see, had entered upon an exploring expedition of his own, had now rejoined the Admiral; and on the 4th of January the two little ships turned their rudders and set sail for home.

In the study of the journal and the letters of Columbus, in so far as they relate to the first voyage, a number of impressions are strongly, and, it should perhaps be said, painfully, stamped upon the mind of the reader.

While the desire of the explorer to Christianize the island was never lost sight of, he was prevented from any missionary work, not only by the fact that the expedition was unaccompanied by priests, but also by the nature of the expedition itself. It was simply a voyage of discovery; and the movements from one island to another were necessarily too rapid to admit of anything more than a temporary impression. Nothing more, therefore, was done to propagate Christianity than to leave here and there upon the islands the mysterious emblems of the new faith. The preaching of the Gospel was reserved for future expeditions.

But the ultimate Christianizing of the natives was only one of the religious motives that inspired the expedition. For many years Columbus had entertained the hope that gold might be found in quantity sufficient to enable the Spanish Government to rescue the Holy Sepulchre from the possession of infidels. The project inspired him throughout his life. From these, as well as from personal motives, he was therefore particularly desirous of finding gold. Nothing is more painfully obvious in his journal than the power of this pecuniary motive. The quest for gold lured him on from one island to another, and from the sea-coast to the interior. He everywhere makes inquiries for gold, and again and again he hears reports of gold mines; but his efforts in search of them are always unsuccessful. However, he never abandons hope. The journal abounds in expression of optimistic expectation that gold in vast quantities will yet be found, and that the object of this search will yet be fully realized. But the gold-bearing mines everywhere eluded him, and indeed the natives appear to have possessed the precious metal in no more than very trifling quantities. Still, the hopes of Columbus were kept sanguine to the last. It was only ten days before the expedition sailed for home that he entered upon his journal the expression of a most sanguine expectation. Las Casas tells us that in his journal for December 26th, Columbus “adds that he hopes to find on his return from Castile a ton of gold collected by them in trading with the natives, and that they will have succeeded in discovering the mine and the spices, and all these in such abundance that before three years the king and queen may undertake the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre. ‘For I have before protested to your Highnesses,’ continues Columbus, ‘that the profits of this enterprise shall be employed in the conquest of Jerusalem, at which your Highnesses smiled, and said you were pleased, and had the same inclination.’”

In one of the letters of the Admiral announcing the discovery, known as the Sanchez Letter, the Admiral writes in still more sanguine terms. He says: “To sum up the whole, and state briefly the great profits of this voyage, I am able to promise the acquisition, by a trifling assistance from their Majesties, of any quantity of gold, drugs, cotton, and mastick, which last article is found only in the island of Scio; also any quantity of aloe, and as many slaves for the service of the marine as their Majesties may stand in need of.”

In the letter written to the royal treasurer, Santangel, Columbus invariably speaks in terms of similar confidence. “In conclusion, and to speak only of what I have performed,” says he, “this voyage, so hastily despatched, will, as their Highnesses may see, enable any desirable quantity of gold to be obtained, by a very small assistance afforded me on their part.” On the eve of sailing for Spain, after referring to the opposition he had received from the clergy and others about the court, he says: “These last have been the cause that the royal crown of your Highnesses does not possess this day a hundred millions of reals more than when I entered your service, from which time it will be seven years the 20th day of this month of January.”

The reader will hardly fail to observe that these promises, so comprehensive in their nature, rested upon a very slender foundation. Very little gold had been seen by the explorers, and the mines had all baffled their most diligent search. The ardent nature of Columbus found no difficulty in converting hopes into confident expectations. How painfully these were destined to be disappointed, we shall have occasion hereafter to see.

Another matter that is worthy of notice is the general attitude of Columbus toward his crew and toward the islanders. It may be difficult to determine how far it was Columbus’s fault; but the fact is unmistakable that there are no indications of any attachment to him by any of the members of his crew. His habit of deceiving them in regard to the distance passed over, and in regard to the needle, is likely to have occasioned general distrust. Certain it is that Martin Alonzo Pinzon, the ardent friend whose support at Palos made the expedition possible, deserted him without warning soon after the fleet reached the first land. The Admiral himself says, in his journal of November 21st, that Pinzon, “incited by cupidity,” sailed away with the “Pinta” “without leave of the Admiral,” and that “by his language and action he occasioned many other troubles.”

But the conduct of Pinzon was even to Columbus something of a mystery; for elsewhere in his journal he “confesses himself unable to learn the cause of the unfavorable disposition which this man had manifested toward him throughout the voyage.” Elsewhere the Admiral says Pinzon “was actuated solely by haughtiness and cupidity in abandoning him.” Again he says that both of the Pinzon brothers “had a party attached to them, the whole of whom had displayed great haughtiness and avarice, disobeying his commands, regardless of the honours he had conferred upon them.”

It is evident that Columbus was quite devoid of tact in the management of men; for the bitterness that at a later period manifested itself could not otherwise be accounted for.

Toward the natives Columbus seems not to have been actuated by any motives of cruelty. He is not to be harshly judged, moreover, if his methods were simply those of the fifteenth rather than those of the nineteenth century. But human nature is ever essentially the same, and it is therefore easy to understand the history of the change that rapidly came over the spirit of the natives. Immediately after he arrived at the islands, Columbus took a number of the natives by force, and kept them upon the ship. On the 12th day of November he writes: “Yesterday a canoe came to the ship with six young men; five of them came on board, whom I ordered to be detained, in order to have them with me. I then sent ashore to one of the houses and took seven women and three children; this I did that the Indians might tolerate their captivity better with their company.” In the same connection the Admiral adds: “These women will be of great help to us in acquiring their language, which is the same throughout all these countries, the inhabitants keeping up a communication among the islands by means of their canoes.” Again, on the 14th of January, only two days before taking final leave, Las Casas says that, “wishing to make prisoners of some Indians, he intended to despatch a boat in the night to visit their houses for this purpose; but the wind blowing strong from the east and northeast occasioned a rough sea, which prevented it.” On the following day he says: “There came four young Indians on board the caravel, where they gave so good an account to the Admiral of the island to the east that he determined to take them along with him.”

It is impossible to reflect upon this habit of the Admiral without realizing that, however friendly and hospitable the natives had shown themselves at first, the impression soon made upon their minds must have been one of the utmost repugnance and enmity. To indulge in any other supposition would be to suppose that the natives were not human beings. The captives seem for the most part to have been kindly treated, and they may not have manifested an unconquerable aversion to their captivity; but this unscrupulous policy of kidnapping the natives whenever opportunity offered, could not have been otherwise than disastrous to all friendly relations. It is impossible to conceive that the islanders were so devoid of all human sensibilities as to see with indifference their husbands and wives, their sons and daughters, stolen from them for the gratification of the lust and the cupidity of their visitors. Nor, aside from all moral considerations, on the part of the wisest historian of the time was there any failure to understand the disastrous consequences of such a policy. Las Casas was fully alive to all the political significance of this course of action. While this great moralist, whose nobility of character raises him far above all the other public men of his time, fully acquits Columbus of any wrong intent, he does not hesitate to indict him for initiating a policy that was the cause of all the crimes and disasters that ensued. The right to kidnap was of course resented by the natives. The consequence was a war of extermination. The sad fate of the colony of La Navidad can never be fully understood, for reasons which in due time we shall see; but it would have been strange indeed if men, endowed with even the feeblest attributes of human nature, had not been desirous of exterminating a race actuated by such a policy. The words of Las Casas are at once so judicious and so just that they ought not to be abridged. After speaking of the ardent desire of Columbus to bring as much profit as possible to Ferdinand and Isabella, he uses these admirable words:—

“For this cause the Admiral thought and watched and worked for nothing more than to contrive that there might come advantage and income to the sovereigns.... Ignoring that which ought not to be ignored concerning divine and natural right and the right judgment of reason, he introduced and commenced to establish such principles and to sow such seeds that there originated and grew from them such a deadly and pestilential herb, and one which produced such deep roots, that it has been sufficient to destroy and devastate all these Indies, without human power sufficing to impede or intercept such great and irreparable evils.”

And then, with a charming discrimination and charity, the same benignant author continues,—

“I do not doubt that if the Admiral had believed there would succeed such pernicious detriment as did succeed, and had known as much of the primary and secondary conclusions of natural and divine right as he knew of cosmography and other human doctrines, he would never have dared to introduce or establish a thing which was to produce such calamitous evils; for no one can say that he was not a good and Christian man.”

The course taken by Columbus does not show that he was exceptionally immoral; for morality is at least so conventional as to be entitled to be judged in the light of the age under consideration. But his course does show that he was not above the moral debasement of the age in which he lived, on the one hand, and, on the other, that he was destitute, not only of the characteristics of what we call statesmanship, but also of ordinary tact and good judgment. Nothing could have been easier than by a judicious use of rewards and inducements to persuade a sufficient number of the natives to accompany the fleet in a most friendly spirit. Either this was not perceived, or it was not desired. In either case, the whole history is a sad commentary on the management of the Admiral.

In spite of the popular superstition, Columbus did not hesitate to set sail for home on Friday. It had been on Friday that he left Palos; on Friday that he left the Canaries; and now on Friday, the 4th of January, he took leave of the colony at La Navidad and ordered the pilots to set the rudder for home. On the 9th day of January they proceeded thirty-six leagues, as far as Punta Roxa, or Red Point, where the Admiral records that they found tortoises as big as bucklers, and where also he saw three mermaids that raised themselves far above the water. Of the latter the Admiral has the frankness to say that although they had something like a human face, they were not so handsome as they are painted. Two days later Columbus came to a mountain covered with snow, which he named Monte de Plata; and, a little beyond, after passing a succession of capes, which were duly named, he came to a vast bay in which he determined to remain to observe the conjunction that was to be seen on the 17th. Here for the first time he found men with bows and arrows, and not only bought a bow and some arrows, but learned from one of the natives that the Caribs were to the eastward, and that gold was to be found on an island not far away, which he called the island of St. John. Bernaldez says that “in the islands of these Caribs, as well as in the neighbouring ones, there is gold in incalculable quantity, cotton in vast abundance, and especially spices, such as pepper, which is four times as strong and pungent as the pepper that we use in Spain.”

It soon became evident that these people were of a less pacific nature than the other islanders whom Columbus had met. A band of fifty-five of the natives, armed with bows and arrows and swords of hard wood, as well as heavy spears, attempted to seize seven of the Spaniards. An altercation ensued. Two of the Indians were wounded, whereupon they all fled, leaving their arms behind them. The incident is worthy of note from the fact that it was the only time during this expedition that the Spaniards and the natives came to blows. The breach was easily healed, however, for on the following day the Indians returned as though nothing had happened, and a complete reconciliation took place. The Admiral gave the native king a red cap, and the next day “the king sent his gold crown and provisions.”

On the 15th, Columbus entered the port of a little island where there were good salt pits. The soil, the woods, and the plains convinced him that at last he had come to the island of Cipango. Perhaps he was confirmed in this impression by the current reports that the gold mines of Cibao were not far distant. On the next day the Spaniards discovered the caravel “Pinta” sailing toward them. Twenty days before, Pinzon, apparently moved by a resistless ambition, had gone off on an independent cruise. Columbus now received the excuse of the captain,—that he acted under necessity; and though he thought it by no means satisfactory, he was willing to condone the offence.

The Admiral now decided to sail directly for Spain; and accordingly the Spaniards prepared at once to leave the bay, which they called De las Flechas, or the Bay of Arrows. When they had advanced about sixteen leagues, the Indians pointed to the island of St. John, which, they said, was the home of the Caribs, or cannibals. Columbus did not think it wise, however, to delay for further investigation or inquiry. Sails were set, and the prows of the two little ships were turned toward home. It was on the 16th of January that the last of the Bahamas passed to the rearward out of sight.

During several days the navigators had no adverse fortune. The killing of a tunny-fish and a shark afforded a welcome addition to their larder, as they were now reduced to bread and wine. The “Pinta” soon proved to be in poor condition for the voyage, as her mizzen-mast was out of order and could carry but little sail. The sea was calm and the course was east by northeast until February 4, when it was changed to east. On the 10th the pilots and the captains took observations to determine their bearings, but with very unsatisfactory results. The imperfect condition of the science of navigation was well illustrated by the fact that their reckonings differed by a hundred and fifty leagues.

The calm monotony of the voyage was broken on the 13th. All night they laboured with a high wind and furious sea. On the next day the storm increased, “the waves crossing and dashing against one another, so that the vessel was overwhelmed.” In the following night the two little ships made signals by lights as long as one could see the other. At sunrise the wind increased, and the sea became more and more terrible. The “Pinta” was nowhere to be seen, and the Admiral thought her lost. The journal records that he ordered lots to be cast for one of them to go on a pilgrimage to St. Mary of Guadaloupe, and carry a wax taper of five pounds weight, and that he caused them all to take oath that the one on whom the lot fell should make the pilgrimage. For this purpose as many peas were put into a hat as there were persons on board, one of the peas being marked with a cross. The first person to put his hand in the hat was the Admiral, and he drew the crossed pea. Two other lots were taken, one of these also falling to Columbus. They then made a vow to go in procession in penitential garments to the first church dedicated to Our Lady which they might meet with on arriving at land, and there pay their devotions.

But notwithstanding these vows the danger continued to increase. Lack of ballast was partially supplied by filling with sea-water such casks as they could make available. It is easy to conjecture what the anxiety of the Admiral must have been. One of the vessels had been lost in the Indies; the “Pinta” had also probably perished; and now the fury of the hurricane was such as to make it extremely improbable that even the “Nina” would survive. In such a calamitous event no word of the discovery would ever reach Europe, and all the worst conjectures of the opponents of the expedition would seem to have been fulfilled.

As a possible means of preventing so disastrous a result, Columbus wrote upon parchment an account of the voyage and of the discoveries he had made, and after rolling it up in waxed cloth, well tied, and putting it into a large wooden cask, he threw it into the sea. Another he placed upon the deck of the vessel, in order that in case all upon the vessel should be lost, there might be a chance that the results of the voyage might still be made known.

At sunrise of the 15th, land was discovered, which some thought to be Madeira, and others the rock of Cintra, near Lisbon. According to the Admiral’s reckoning, however, they were nearer the Azores. But the power of the storm was still so great that it was not until the morning of the 18th that they were able to come to an anchorage, and to find that they were in the group of the Azores, at the island of St. Mary.

Columbus now sent a half of the crew on shore to fulfil their vows, intending on their return to go himself with the other half, for the same purpose. But the first company of pilgrims were set upon by the Portuguese and taken prisoners. An attempt, though unsuccessful, was also made to capture the Admiral. A severe altercation occurred, in which the captain of the island ordered the Admiral on shore, and the Admiral in turn displayed his commission and threatened the island with devastation. It was not until the 22d that the parleyings came to an end and the captured portion of the crew was restored.

Though for a few days the weather was propitious, on the 27th another storm came on, which continued for several days. On the 3d day of March a violent squall struck the vessel and split all the sails. They were again in such imminent danger that another pilgrimage was promised, and the crew all made a vow to fast on bread and water on the first Saturday after their landing. Having lost its sails, the vessel was now driven under bare poles before the wind. Through the night Columbus says that the “Nina” was kept afloat “with infinite labor and apprehension.” But at the dawn of the 4th of March the Spaniards found they were off the rock of Cintra. Though from what had occurred, the Admiral entertained a strong distrust of the Portuguese Government, there was no alternative but to run into the port for shelter.

In view of his experience during the returning voyage, Columbus can hardly have been surprised to learn from some of the oldest mariners of the place that so tempestuous a winter had never been known. He received numerous congratulations on what was regarded as a miraculous preservation.

Immediately on reaching the port the Admiral made formal announcement of his discoveries. A courier was despatched to the king and queen of Spain with the tidings. To the king of Portugal a letter was also sent requesting permission and authority to land at Lisbon, as a report that his vessel was laden with treasure had spread abroad and gave him a feeling of insecurity at the mouth of the Tagus, where he was surrounded by needy and unscrupulous adventurers. Accompanying this request was the assurance that the vessel had not visited any of the Portuguese colonies, but had come from Cipango and India, which he had discovered in the course of his westward voyage.

For some days after his arrival Columbus seemed to be in some danger. For nearly a century Lisbon had derived its highest glory from maritime discovery, and it was therefore not singular that the advent of a vessel with such tidings should have filled the people with wonder and surprise. From morning till night the little ship was thronged with visitors piqued with curiosity. On the day after his arrival, the captain of a large Portuguese man-of-war summoned Columbus on board his ship to give an account of himself and his voyage. The explorer replied that he held a commission as admiral from the sovereigns of Spain, and, as such, he must refuse to leave his vessel, or to send any one in his place. This attitude of lofty dignity was successful. The Portuguese commander visited the caravel with sound of drums and trumpets, and made the most generous offers of protection and service.

On the 8th of March Columbus received an invitation to visit the king at Valparaiso. Complying with this invitation, he received a friendly greeting. King John did not scruple to say that in his opinion, according to the articles stipulated with the Spanish monarchs, the new discovery belonged to him rather than to Castile.

This claim was not without some show of reason. In the time of the Crusades the doctrine had been promulgated and generally accepted that Christian princes had a right to invade and seize upon the territories of infidels under the plea of defeating the enemies of Christ and of extending the sway of the Church. What particular Christian monarch was to have the right to a given territory was to be determined by papal decision. Under this authority Pope Martin V. conceded to the Crown of Portugal all the lands that might be discovered between Cape Bojador and the Indies. This concession was formally consented to and ratified by Spain and Portugal in the treaty of 1479. Though it was evident that the intent of the treaty only related to such lands as might be discovered in a passage to the Indies by an easterly course, there was no verbal limitation, and therefore it can hardly be regarded as singular that the Portuguese monarch should now claim that it included within its provisions any lands that might be discovered in even a westerly voyage.

But it is evident that Columbus regarded this question as one to be determined by the monarchs themselves rather than by any discussion between his royal host and himself. Accordingly, he was content merely to observe that he had not been aware of the agreement to which allusion had been made, and that when setting out on his voyage, he had received explicit instructions not to interfere with any of the Portuguese settlements.

Perhaps the only importance to be attached to this visit to the Portuguese port is the fact that by it Columbus was made fully aware that the king of Portugal intended to contest the rights of Spain to the newly discovered lands. The claim of the king was eagerly taken up and seconded by his courtiers, some of whom were the very men who, ten years before, had advised against giving Columbus the assistance he needed, and consequently were piqued at the success that had finally crowned his efforts. They assured the monarch that the new lands, even if they were not the identical ones that had been reached by the Portuguese navigators who had sailed toward the east, were at least so near them as to make an independent title invalid. From one absurdity they went on to another, until they reached the conclusion that the claims of the discoverer were absurd and preposterous, and that they were entitled to no consideration whatever. Spanish and Portuguese historians agree that the king’s advisers even went so far as to propose the assassination of the Admiral, in order to prevent any future complications.

It is to the credit of the monarch that, notwithstanding these ignoble proposals of his ministers, he treated Columbus with distinguished personal consideration. The hospitality extended was scarcely less than princely, and on the departure of the navigator the king gave him a royal escort that was commanded to show him every kindness. On his way back to Lisbon the Admiral accepted an invitation to visit the queen at the monastery of Villa Franca, where he regaled her with a glowing and circumstantial account of the expedition and the islands he had discovered.

It must not be supposed, however, that the king was ingenuous. On the contrary, he listened with favour to some of the more subtle and sinister suggestions of his courtiers. The proposal that met with most countenance was the advice that they should fit out a strong fleet at once, and despatch it under command of one of the foremost captains of the Portuguese service, to take possession of the newly discovered country before a second Spanish expedition could reach its destination.

After thus passing nine days within the domain of Portugal, Columbus hoisted anchor on the 13th of March, and reached the port of Palos on Friday, the 15th, where he was received with great demonstrations of joy.

By the people of this little Spanish port the expedition had been regarded as chimerical and desperate. But the crews had formed no very small portion of the able-bodied men of the town. Many, therefore, had given up their friends as abandoned to the mysterious horrors with which credulity had always peopled the unknown seas. But now, many of their friends had not only returned, but they brought back accounts of the discovery of a new world. The bells were rung, the shops were closed, business of all kinds was suspended, a solemn procession was formed, and wherever Columbus was observed, he was hailed with acclamations.

The court was at Barcelona. The Admiral at once despatched a letter to the king and queen, announcing his arrival, and informing them that he would await their orders at Seville. Before he departed from Palos, however, an event of great interest occurred. On the very evening of the arrival of Columbus, and while the bells of triumph were still ringing, the “Pinta,” commanded by Martin Alonzo Pinzon, entered the river. The two little vessels had parted company in the terrible storm off the Azores; and each, supposing that the other was lost, by a singular coincidence now, on the same day, reached the port from which they had together set out more than six months before.

The connection of Martin Alonzo Pinzon with the first voyage of Columbus is a subject which has received more or less of the attention of every historian of that remarkable event. Unfortunately, the ending of his career was one that threw an indelible stain upon the credit of his name. The concluding facts of his life may be briefly stated. After parting from the “Nina,” the “Pinta,” driven by the storm far to the north, and finding its way with infinite difficulty into the Bay of Biscay, took refuge in the port of Bayonne. Pinzon seems to have deemed it safe to presume that the “Nina” and all its crew had been lost. Accordingly, he wrote to the monarchs of Spain, announcing the discoveries he had made, and asking permission to wait upon the court and give the particulars in person. As soon as the storm abated, he set out for the port of Palos, evidently anticipating a triumphant entry; but when, on nearing the harbour, he beheld the ship of the Admiral, and heard the joyful acclamations with which Columbus had been received, his heart must have failed him. It is said that he feared to go ashore, lest Columbus should put him under arrest for having deserted him on the coast of Cuba,—at least he landed privately, and kept out of sight till the Admiral had taken his departure for the Spanish court. Deeply dejected, and broken in health, he betook himself to his home, to await the answer to the letter he had written to the king and queen. At length the answer came. It was reproachful in tone, and even forbade the appearance of Pinzon at court. This seemed to complete the humiliation of the old sailor, for he sank rapidly into a species of despair, and a few days later died, the victim of chagrin.

Nevertheless the services that Pinzon rendered to the expedition ought not to go unrecognized. As we have already seen, his generosity had enabled Columbus to offer to defray one eighth of the expense of the expedition. More important still, at the moment when it seemed impossible to recruit, or even conscript, a crew, it was no other than Martin Alonzo Pinzon that came forward as the earnest and successful champion of the expedition. He had been a navigator of distinction, and his wealth, his social rank, and his experience gave him an influence that withstood the tide of prejudice and made the securing of a crew possible. He not only offered to give the enterprise his moral and pecuniary support, but he gave proof of the integrity of his declarations by offering to command one of the vessels in person, while his brother was to command another. It cannot be denied that these were great and important services, without which it would have been far more difficult, if not, indeed, impossible, to put the expedition into sailing condition. But the extent of these services seems to have poisoned his mind in regard to his relations to his chief. During the voyage there were symptoms of an insubordinate spirit. The commission under which the fleet sailed gave to Columbus unquestionable authority; but Pinzon chafed under his restraints, and no sooner had they reached the coast of Cuba than he deserted his commander and undertook a voyage of discovery of his own. The sequel unfortunately showed that in spirit he was not above ignoring entirely the work of Columbus, and arrogating to himself the credit of the discovery.

Columbus, on the other hand, received in answer to his letter of announcement a most gracious reply from the Spanish sovereigns. That he was held in high favour, was shown by the simple form of the letter, which addressed him as “Don Christopher Columbus, our Admiral of the Ocean Sea, and Viceroy and Governor of the Islands discovered in the Indies.” The letter expressed the great satisfaction of the monarchs with his achievement, and requested him not only to repair immediately to court, but also to inform them by return of courier what was to be done on their part to prepare the way immediately for a second expedition. Columbus lost no time in complying with their commands. He sent a memorandum of the ships, munitions, and men needed, and taking the six Indians and various curiosities he had brought with him, set out for an audience at Barcelona.

The fame of the discovery had been noised abroad, and even grossly exaggerated reports of the wonderful curiosities brought back had obtained currency. The people, therefore, everywhere thronged into the streets to get sight of Columbus and of his Indians, as they made the long journey from Palos to the court.

On reaching Barcelona the Admiral found that every preparation had been made to receive him with the most imposing ceremonials. It has been customary to compare his entrance into the city with a Roman triumph. Certainly there was not a little to justify such a comparison. The Indians, painted and decorated in savage fashion, birds and animals of unknown species, rare plants supposed to possess great healing qualities, Indian coronets, bracelets, and other decorations of gold,—all these were paraded and displayed in order to convey an idea of the importance and the wealth of the newly discovered country. At the rear of the train, Columbus, on horseback, was escorted by a brilliant cavalcade of Spanish hidalgos.

The sovereigns had determined to receive him with a stately ceremony worthy of his discovery. Upon a throne specially set up for the purpose the king and queen, with Prince Juan at their side, and surrounded with noble lords and ladies, awaited his coming into their presence. Columbus, also surrounded with a brilliant retinue, entered the hall and approached the throne. Las Casas, who was present, tells us that the Admiral was stately and commanding in person, and that the modest smile that played upon his countenance showed that “he enjoyed the state and glory in which he came.” Though he was probably only forty-eight years of age, his prematurely gray hairs had already given him a venerable appearance. The sovereigns had made it evident that they desired to bestow upon him the admiration and gratitude of the nation. As he approached, they arose and saluted him as if receiving a person of the highest rank. When he was about to kneel, for the purpose of kissing the hands of the sovereigns, in accordance with the conventional ceremonies of that proud court, they ordered him in the most gracious manner to arise, and then to seat himself in their presence.

At their bidding, Columbus then proceeded to give an account of his voyage and of his discoveries. The authorities agree that this was done in a sedate and discreet manner, though it is difficult to avoid the conviction that the Admiral promised for the future far more than was warranted by anything that had as yet been discovered. But the thought was never absent from his mind that the islands were just off the coast of Asia, and that they were not far from all the wealth of Cipango and Cathay. With this belief he did not hesitate to assure their Majesties that what he had already discovered was but a harbinger of incalculable wealth, and that by further explorations whole nations and peoples would be brought to the true faith.

The contemporaneous historians tell us that at the conclusion of this account the sovereigns were so affected that their eyes filled with tears of gratitude, and that they fell upon their knees and poured forth their thanks to God for the great blessing of this discovery. The Te Deum was sung by the choir of the chapel, and Las Casas remarks that it seemed as if “in that hour they communicated with celestial delights.”

It is not strange that in this mood the monarchs were ready, not only to continue, but even to extend the authority already bestowed upon Columbus. Accordingly, they confirmed the grants made at Santa Fé the year before, they granted him the royal arms of Castile and Leon, and for his sake they conferred special honours on his brothers Bartholomew and Diego. Columbus in turn committed himself to great things in the future. His ordinary religious fervour seems to have been greatly reinforced by the ceremonies of the day. In his desire to promote the conquest of the Holy Sepulchre he now went so far as to make a solemn vow that for this purpose he would furnish within seven years an army consisting of four thousand horse and fifty thousand foot, and that he would also provide a similar force within the next five years that should follow.

It was unquestionably a weakness of Columbus that he was always prone to promise more than he could fulfil. This is perhaps the besetting fault of very fervid natures. But the consequences are often far reaching. Columbus thus prepared the way, or at least gave the opportunity, for virulent criticism and even hostility. Not a few of the old nobility had been piqued by the honours conferred upon a parvenu and a foreigner. All such were ready to organize an attack if the new favourite should show any weakness or fail to fulfil any of his promises. This important element in the situation should prepare us to understand much of what is to follow.

In all affairs of international interest in the fifteenth century the Roman pontiff played a conspicuous part. There were unusual reasons why a formal announcement to the Pope of the success of Columbus should be made without delay. Such announcement was prompted, not only by the importance of the discovery, but also by the religious motive that formed so large an element in the purpose of the discoverer. But there was an additional reason. As we have already seen, the king of Portugal had hinted that the newly discovered lands, in view of the treaty of 1479, would be found to belong to himself rather than to the monarchs of Castile and Aragon. The Pope was the international mediator in all questions of this kind. The Spanish sovereigns accordingly determined to turn to the Pope without delay.

The pontiff at that time was Alexander VI., who, though he has been stigmatized as having been guilty of nearly every vice, was not unmindful of the political significance of his position. Born a subject of Aragon, he might be supposed to think favourably of the claims of Spain; but Ferdinand judged his character accurately, and therefore thought it not wise to trust anything to chance or accident. Accordingly, he despatched ambassadors to the court of Rome to announce the new discovery with due formality, and to set forth the gain that must accrue to the Church from the acquisition of so vast a new territory. The ambassadors were charged to say that great care had been taken not to trench upon the possessions that had been ceded to Portugal. On one further point the instructions of Ferdinand were characteristic of his great political acumen. He desired to intimate as delicately as possible, but at the same time with unequivocal distinctness, that whatever the papal pleasure might be, he should maintain and defend his newly acquired possessions at all hazards. This he did by instructing his ambassadors to say that in the opinion of many learned men it was not necessary that he should obtain the papal sanction for the title of the newly discovered lands, but that notwithstanding this fact, as pious and devoted princes, the king and queen supplicated his Holiness to issue a papal bull conceding the lands which Columbus had discovered, or hereafter might discover, to the Crown of Castile.

The news was received by Alexander with great joy; and the request was the more readily granted because of the favour which the Spanish sovereigns had recently acquired at Rome by the successful termination of the terrible conflict with the Moors. Indeed, these new discoveries appear to have been regarded as in some sense an appropriate reward for the vigorous prosecution of that crusade against the infidels. A bull was accordingly issued on the 2d of May, 1493, conceding to the Spanish sovereigns the same rights and privileges in respect to the newly discovered lands in the West as had previously been granted to the king of Portugal in regard to their discoveries in Africa. In order to prevent the liability of dispute as to jurisdiction, this bull was accompanied with another to determine a line of demarcation. The pope established an imaginary line “one hundred leagues west of the Azores and Cape de Verde Islands,” extending from pole to pole. All lands west of this line that had not been discovered by some other Christian power before the preceding Christmas, and that had been or might hereafter be discovered by Spanish navigators, should belong to the Crown of Spain; all east of that line, to the Crown of Portugal.

While these negotiations were going on with the Pope, great activity was displayed in preparation for the next voyage. In order to further the interests of Spain in the West, what in these days we should perhaps call a bureau of discovery was now established. This was placed under the superintendence of Fonseca, archdeacon of Seville, who afterward received several high ecclesiastical honours, including the patriarchate of the Indies. He was already a man of position and influence; but the writers of the time agree that he was possessed of a worldly spirit, and was devoted to temporal rather than to spiritual affairs. He seemed, however, to be so well adapted to the forming and the fitting out of armadas that, notwithstanding his high ecclesiastical dignities, the monarchs saw fit to keep him in virtual control of Indian affairs for about thirty years. Though he had great business abilities, he was capable of intense animosity, and was by no means above gratifying his private resentments in the most malignant and vindictive spirit. To assist Fonseca, Francisco Pinelo was appointed treasurer, and Juan de Soria comptroller. Their office was fixed at Seville, but the jurisdiction of the company, as we shall see, extended over a wide territory. Cadiz was made the special port of entry, with a custom-house for the new branch of maritime service.

The despotic rigour with which affairs were then kept in the hands of the government is well illustrated by the character of the orders that were issued. No one was permitted to go to the New World, either to trade or to form an establishment for other reasons, without an express license from the sovereigns, from Fonseca, or from Columbus. A still more despotic spirit was shown in the royal order commanding that “all ships in the ports of Andalusia, with their captains, pilots, and crews,” should hold themselves in readiness to serve in the new expedition. Columbus and Fonseca were authorized to purchase, at their own price, any vessel that was needed, and, in case of necessity, to take it by force. They were also authorized to seize the requisite arms, provisions, and ammunitions “at any place or in any vessel in which they might be found,” paying therefor such a price as they themselves might fix upon as fair and just. They were also authorized to compel, not mariners alone, but officers holding any rank or station whatsoever, to embark on their fleet, under such conditions and pay as they might deem reasonable. Finally, all civil authorities were called upon to render every assistance in expediting the armament, and were warned not to allow any impediment to be thrown in the way, on penalty of loss of office and confiscation of estate. To provide the necessary expenses, the Crown pledged two thirds of the church tithes and the sequestered property of the Jews, who, by the edict of the preceding year, had been deprived of their jewels and other possessions and ordered out of the realm. If, notwithstanding these somewhat ample resources, there should still be a lack of funds, the treasurer was authorized to contract a loan. These orders were issued while Columbus was still at Barcelona, and presumably with his approval.

Under these rigorous instructions, and in view of the popular interest in the enterprise, preparations for the new voyage went forward without delay. Fonseca gave himself to the collecting of vessels and their equipment with great energy. But notwithstanding the great resources placed at his disposal, the preparation of the fleet necessarily made slow progress. Confronting these great powers, there were the perpetual obstacles of human nature and individual interest. Even despotism has its limitations. So much opposition was found to be in the way of the practical confiscation of ships and munitions that it was not until the summer was far gone that the fleet was ready to sail. Columbus had left Barcelona on the 28th day of May; it was not till the 25th of September that the fleet were ready to weigh anchor and turn their prows to the west.

There were special reasons why the Spanish sovereigns desired Columbus to hasten his departure on the second voyage. A diplomatic controversy of more than usual subtilty had sprung up between Ferdinand and Isabella and King John of Portugal. The Portuguese monarch, probably moved by chagrin as well as by envy, entertained a firm determination not to abandon his claims to the new discoveries, except from the most absolute necessity. One of the historians of King John’s reign admits that this monarch distributed bribes freely among the courtiers of Ferdinand, and that by this means he had no difficulty in learning of the secret purposes of the Spanish court. Ambassadors were freely interchanged for the purpose of settling the questions of jurisdiction that had been raised. At one time the envoy of Ferdinand was intrusted with two communications, one of which was friendly, while the other was stern and imperative in its nature. In case he should find a pacific disposition on the part of the Portuguese king, he was to deliver the former; but if he should learn of any hostile intent to seize upon or disturb the newly discovered lands, he was to present the communication couched in peremptory terms, forbidding him to undertake any enterprise of the kind.

The import of both these communications was made known to John by his spies at the Spanish court. Accordingly, he conducted himself in such a way as to draw forth only the more pacific despatch. But notwithstanding this show of courtesy, Ferdinand had little difficulty in learning that the Portuguese monarch was planning to seize upon the new possessions before the second expedition of Columbus could reach its destination. His policy, therefore, was not only to hasten the preparations of the new expedition, but also to delay as much as possible by dilatory negotiations the movements of King John. In this latter purpose his great diplomatic acumen had full scope, and was entirely successful. He proposed that the question of their respective rights should be submitted for arbitration. The envoys consumed much time in passing with great ceremony between the two courts. King John considered it prudent neither to accept nor to decline this proposition until he had taken the precaution to make due inquiries of the Pope. The answer was what, in view of the papal bull above referred to, might have been expected. The Portuguese ambassador was informed that his Holiness would adhere to his decision establishing the line of demarcation at a hundred leagues west of the Azores. Thus Ferdinand secured a twofold triumph. The Pope had confirmed his title, and time enough had elapsed to enable the Spanish fleet to reach the disputed ground before the fleet of King John could be put in readiness to sail.

It remains to be added on this subject that King John, finding himself defeated in his attempts to gain possession of the newly discovered territories, now addressed himself to the task of having the line of demarcation extended farther to the west. In this he was more successful. After prolonged negotiations, it was finally agreed, and the agreement was embodied in the treaty of Tordesillas, June 7, 1494, that the papal line of partition should be moved to three hundred and seventy leagues west of the Cape de Verde Islands. This treaty remained in force during the age of discovery, and its importance is attested by the fact that it prevented all further discussions.

CHAPTER IV.
THE SECOND VOYAGE.

On the morning of the 25th of September, 1493, all was in readiness for the second voyage. The fleet, consisting of seventeen vessels, large and small, was at anchor in the bay of Cadiz. The scene presented a sharp contrast to that of the modest embarkation at Palos the year before. Now there was no difficulty in recruiting men; on the contrary, those who were permitted to accompany the expedition were regarded as peculiarly fortunate. Stories of the untold wealth of the new regions had been freely circulated and were very generally believed. It was the wellnigh fatal misfortune of the expedition that the men who embarked on this second voyage believed they were bound for golden regions, where nothing but wealth and the indolent pleasures of the tropics awaited them. This current but unfortunate belief determined, in large measure, the personal character of the passengers and the crew. Many of them were adventurers pure and simple; some were high-spirited hidalgos seeking romantic experiences; some were hardy mariners looking for new laurels in unknown seas; some were visionary explorers going out simply for novelty and excitement; some were scheming speculators eager for profit at the expense of innocent natives; some were priests more or less devoutly solicitous for the conversion of the Indians and the propagation of the Catholic faith. Unfortunately, among them all there was nothing of that sturdy yeomanry which has ever been found so useful in making colonization successful.

Before sunrise the whole fleet was in motion. Steering to the southwest, in order to avoid the domains of Portugal, they arrived at the Grand Canary on the 1st of October. Here they were detained a few days in order to take in a quantity of swine, calves, goats, and sheep, with which to stock the newly discovered lands. The Admiral took the precaution of giving to each of the captains sealed orders, indicating the route to be taken,—which, however, were not to be opened except in case a vessel should lose sight of the fleet. Happily this precaution proved not to have been necessary. Weighing anchor again, the fleet, on the 7th of October, took a southwesterly course, with the purpose of making the Caribbees. After a prosperous voyage, they came upon land on the morning of the 3d of November.

The group of islands among which Columbus now found himself was the beautiful cluster which, from the eastern end of Porto Rico, bends around in the shape of a crescent toward the south, and forms a broken barrier between the main ocean and the Caribbean Sea. The first island they reached he called Dominica, in recognition of the fact that it was discovered on Sunday; but the group as a whole, at a later period, he somewhat humorously denominated St. Ursula and the Eleven Thousand Virgins.

After cruising around several of the smaller islands, the Admiral discovered a place for safe anchorage, and went ashore. As the natives fled in confusion, the Spaniards had excellent opportunities of inspecting their ways of living. A village was found, consisting of twenty or thirty houses arranged about a hollow square. Each had its portico for shelter from the sun. Within were found hammocks of netting, utensils of earthenware, and a rude form of cotton cloth. In one of the houses was discovered a cooking utensil, apparently of iron, but probably of some kind of stone which, when burned, has a metallic lustre. But what struck the Spaniards with special interest, and even with horror, was the sight of human bones,—giving evidence, as the discoverers supposed, that they were indeed in the land of cannibals.

On the following day the boats again made a landing,—this time on an island which was named Guadaloupe,—and succeeded in capturing a boy and several women. From these Columbus learned that the inhabitants of the island were in league with the peoples of two other islands, and that this rude confederacy made war on all the rest. Its habit was to go on predatory excursions to neighbouring islands, to make prisoners of the youngest and handsomest of the women as servants and companions, and to capture men and children to be killed and eaten. It was also learned that nearly all the warriors of the island were absent. At the time of the arrival, the king, with three hundred men, was on a cruise in quest of prisoners; the women meantime, being expert archers, were left to defend their homes from invasion.

The fleet was detained for several days by the temporary loss of one of the captains and eight of his men. The commander of one of the caravels had gone on an exploring expedition, and penetrated into the forest with a part of his crew. The night passed without their return, and the greatest apprehensions were felt for their safety. Several parties were sent out in various directions in quest of them; but no tidings could be obtained. It was not until several days had elapsed, and the fleet was about to sail, that, to the joy of all, they made a signal from the shore. Their abject appearance immediately revealed how terribly they had suffered. For days they had wandered about in a vast and trackless forest, climbing mountains, fording streams, utterly bewildered, and almost in despair lest the Admiral, thinking them dead, should set sail and leave them to perish. Notwithstanding the universal joy over their return, the Admiral, with very questionable judgment, put the captain under arrest, and stopped a part of the rations of the other men. As they had strayed away without permission, Columbus thought so gross a breach of discipline should not go unpunished. It seems not to have occurred to him that the penalty had already been inflicted, and that he now had an opportunity to secure the loyalty instead of the enmity of the offenders.

On the 10th of November the Admiral hoisted anchor, and with all on board turned the ships to the northwest for La Navidad. After a few days at one of the intermediate islands, he sent a boat on shore for water and for information. The boat’s crew found a village occupied exclusively by women and children. A few of these were seized and taken on board the ships. In one of the affrays, however, it was learned that the Carib women could ply their bows and arrows with amazing vigour and skill. Though the Spaniards generally covered themselves successfully with their bucklers, two of them were severely wounded. On their return to the ships, a canoe containing Carib women was upset, when, to the amazement of the Spaniards, it was found that the natives could discharge their arrows while swimming, as skilfully as though they had been upon land. One of the arrows thus discharged penetrated quite through a Spanish buckler.

It is difficult to read the original accounts of this expedition without receiving from it a very painful impression. Wherever the Spaniards landed, they must have left a remembrance of bitter enmity. Their inquiries everywhere were for gold, and their exploits were little less or more than the capture of women and children. The natives may have been cannibals indeed; but aside from all question of moral obligation, one cannot overlook the fact that they were capable of animosities, and that in consequence they were in position to help or to hinder the success of the Spanish expedition. It is not easy to understand how, as a matter of policy alone, any course could have been more unwise than that which was pursued.

It was the 22d of November before the fleet arrived off the eastern extremity of Hispaniola. Great excitement prevailed among the crew in anticipation of meeting the colonists at La Navidad. Arriving at the Gulf of Las Flechas, or, as it is now called, Semana Bay, Columbus thought it wise to send ashore one of the Indians whom the year before he had captured at this place and taken with him to Spain. The Indian had been converted to Christianity, and had learned so much of the Spanish language that the Admiral had confident hopes of his rendering important service. The native was gorgeously dressed, and loaded with trinkets with which to make a favourable impression on his countrymen. It is a significant fact that, although he made fair promises of every kind, he was never seen or heard of again. The loss was all the more important as now there was remaining with the fleet only one of the Indians that had been taken to Spain, and there was no certainty that even this one would not escape at the first opportunity.

On the 25th the Admiral cast anchor in the harbour of Monte Christi, desirous of taking further observations about the mouth of the stream which, in the former voyage, he had called the Rio del Oro, or the Golden River. But all the pleasant anticipations of the adventurers now began to be overcast with gloomy forebodings. On the banks they discovered two dead bodies, with arms extended and bound by the wrists to a wooden stake in the form of a cross. Other evidences were not wanting to warrant the fear that some misfortune had befallen Arana and his companions. Two days later, anchors were dropped off the harbour of Navidad. Cannon were fired; but there came back no welcoming response. There was no sign of life,—nothing but a deathlike silence. It was now evident that disaster had overtaken the colony. On the following day the terrible fact was revealed that every member had perished.

The first shock occasioned by this information was, however, slightly alleviated by the friendly bearing of the natives. At first it was feared that there had been treachery on the part of the Indians in whom the Admiral had reposed confidence and friendship; but the accounts given by the natives tended to dispel this fear, and to convince the Spaniards that the colonists had perished from other causes. Some of them, it was said, had died of sickness; some had fallen in quarrels among themselves; and some, having gone to other parts of the island, had taken Indian wives and adopted the customs of the natives. These accounts justified the hope that some of the garrison were yet alive, and might return to the fleet and give an account, not only of the disaster, but also of the interior of the island.

But on going ashore to reconnoitre, Columbus found very little reason for comfort or hope. The fortress was a ruin, the palisades were beaten down, the chests were broken open, the provisions were spoiled,—in short, the whole settlement presented the appearance of having been sacked and destroyed. Here and there were to be found broken utensils and torn garments, but no traces of the garrison were to be seen. Cannon were fired, but no response was awakened, and nothing but a mournful silence reigned over the desolation.

Columbus had ordered Arana, in case of attack or danger, to secrete the treasure in a well; but all their efforts to discover where anything had been concealed were now in vain. It was not until the search had been kept up for several days that even dead bodies were found. Suspicions were revived that there had been treachery on the part of the cacique; but a little exploration resulted in the discovery that the tribal village of that official had also shared in the disaster that had befallen the garrison.

Little by little the general facts of the calamity came to be known. The colony, with the exception of the commander, was made up of men of the lowest order. The list included a considerable number of mariners that were given to every kind of excess and turbulence. Surrounded by savage tribes, they were dependent on the good-will of the natives, as well as on their own prudence and good conduct. Oviedo assures us that they soon fell into every species of wanton abuse. Some were prompted by unrestrained avarice, and some by gross sensuality. Not content with the two or three wives apiece which the good-natured cacique allowed them, they gave themselves up to the most unbridled license with the wives and daughters of the Indians. The natural consequences followed. Fierce brawls ensued over their ill-gotten spoils and the favours of the Indian women. The injunctions of Columbus that they should keep together in the fortress and maintain military order were neglected and forgotten. Many deserted the garrison, and lived at random among the natives. These were gradually formed into groups, to protect themselves and despoil the rest. Violent affrays ensued. One company, under the command of a subordinate officer, set out for the mines of Cibao, of which, from the first, they had heard marvellous accounts. The region to which they went was in the eastern part of the island,—a territory governed by Caonabo, a Carib chieftain famous for his fierce and warlike exploits. He was the hero of the island; and the departure of Columbus gave him an opportunity to rid the country of those who threatened to eclipse his authority. When now his territory was actually invaded, he determined to exterminate the colony. The campaign appears not to have been a long or difficult one. The cacique of the region surrounding La Navidad was faithful to his promises, and fought with the Spaniards against the Carib chieftain. But even their united efforts were unsuccessful. The local cacique, Guacanagari, and his subjects fought faithfully in defence of their guests, but they were soon overpowered. Some of the Spaniards were killed in the struggle, some were driven into the sea and drowned, some were massacred on shore; not a single one was ever heard of again alive.

The cacique Guacanagari continued to manifest his friendly interest in Columbus and his crew, though it was evident that his belief in the heavenly origin and character of the Spaniards had been sadly shaken. It is said that the gross licentiousness of the garrison had already impaired his veneration for the heaven-born visitors. When, therefore, Columbus proposed to establish a permanent settlement in the region, Guacanagari expressed his satisfaction, but observed that the region was unhealthy, and that perhaps the Spaniards could do better in some other locality.

While these parleyings were going on, an event occurred of interesting and even romantic significance. The cacique visited the ship of the Admiral, and was greatly interested in all that he saw. Among other objects of curiosity were the women whom the visitors had taken as prisoners on the Caribbean Islands. One of these, who by reason of her stately beauty had been named Catilina, particularly attracted the interest and admiration of the chieftain. Several days later, a brother of the cacique came on board under pretence of bargaining gold for Spanish trinkets. In the course of his visit he succeeded in having an interview with Catilina. At midnight, just before the fleet was about to sail, the tropical beauty awakened her companions. Though the ship was anchored three miles from land and the sea was rough, they let themselves down by the sides of the vessel, and swam vigorously for the shore. The watchmen, however, were awakened, and a boat was quickly sent out in pursuit. But the skill and vigour of the women were such that they reached the land in safety. Though four of them were retaken on the beach, Catilina and the rest of her companions made good their escape to the forest. On the following day, when Columbus sent to demand of Guacanagari the return of the fugitives, it was found that the cacique had removed his effects and his followers to the interior. This sudden departure confirmed the suspicion in the mind of Columbus that Guacanagari was a traitor to the Spaniards; he even thought that the chief had been the perfidious betrayer of the garrison.

This suspicion made Columbus all the more willing to seek another spot for a permanent settlement. After some days spent in explorations, it was determined to establish a post at about ten leagues east of La Navidad, where they found a spacious harbour, protected on one side by a natural rampart of rocks, and on the other by an impervious forest, as Bernaldez says, “so close that a rabbit could hardly make his way through it.” A green and beautiful plain, extending back from the sea, was watered by two rivers, which promised to furnish the needed power for mills. The streams abounded in fish, the soil was covered with an exuberant vegetation, and the climate appeared to be temperate and genial. This site had the further advantage of proximity to the gold mines in the mountains of Cibao.

Here the first American city was projected, to which Columbus, in honour of the queen, gave the name of Isabella. Streets and squares were promptly laid out; a church, a public storehouse, and a residence for the Admiral were begun without delay. The public houses were built of stone, while those intended for private occupation were constructed of wood, plaster, and such other materials as the situation afforded.

It was not long, however, before there was abundant evidence that the colony was made up of men very ill adapted to the peculiar hardships of the situation. The labour of clearing lands, building houses, and planting orchards and gardens can be successfully carried on only by men accustomed to vigorous manual labour. The stagnant and malarious atmosphere bore hard upon those who had been accustomed to old and highly cultivated lands. Long after landing, moreover, the Spaniards were obliged to subsist very largely upon salt food and mouldy bread. It is not strange that the maladies peculiar to new countries broke out with violence. Disaffections of mind also became wellnigh universal. Many of the adventurers had embarked with the expectation of finding the golden regions of Cipango and Cathay, where fortunes were to be accumulated without effort. Instead of the realization of these hopes, they now found that they were doomed to struggle with the hard conditions of Nature, and to toil painfully for the merest subsistence. What with the ravages of disease and the general gloom of despondency, the situation soon became painful indeed. Even the strength of Columbus himself was obliged finally to succumb to the cares and anxieties of the situation. But though for several weeks he was confined to his bed by illness, he still had the fortitude to give directions about the building of the city and the superintending of the general affairs of the colony.

The situation was indeed depressing. Columbus had hoped that soon after reaching his destination he should be able to send back to Spain glowing reports of what had been accomplished by the settlers at La Navidad, as well as in regard to his own discoveries. But the destruction of the colony had now rendered such a report impossible. In order, however, to relieve the disappointment at home as much as possible, he determined to send out two exploring expeditions, in the hope that the cities and mines, of which he had heard and dreamed so much, might be discovered. He was still ardent in the belief that the island of Hispaniola was none other than Cipango, and that somewhere not far away would be found the cities of boundless wealth of which Marco Polo and Toscanelli had written.

To lead the two expeditions of discovery, Columbus selected two cavaliers by the name of Ojeda and Gorvalan. The former had already, before leaving Spain, made himself famous for his daring spirit and great vigour and agility of body. The latter seems also to have been well adapted to the task before him. The expeditions pressed southward into the very heart of the island. That of Ojeda was the more interesting and the more important. After climbing the adjacent mountain range, the explorers found themselves on the edge of a vast plain, or vega, that was studded with villages and hamlets. The inhabitants were everywhere hospitable. Five or six days were needed to cross the plain and reach the chain of mountains that were said to enclose the golden region of Cibao. Caonabo, the redoubtable chief of the region, nowhere appeared to dispute their passage. The natives everywhere received the explorers with kindness, and pointed out to them numerous evidences of natural wealth. Particles of shining gold were seen in the mountain-streams, and if we may believe the chroniclers of the time, Ojeda himself, in one of the brooks, picked up a large mass of native metal. As the object of the expedition was merely to explore the nature of the country, Ojeda was now satisfied with the result, and accordingly he led back his band of explorers to the fleet. He gave a glowing account of the golden resources of the island, and his story was corroborated by the report of Gorvalan. Columbus decided at once to send back a report to the Spanish monarchs. Twelve of the ships were ordered to put themselves in readiness for the return voyage.

The report sent by Columbus was one of great importance. He described the exploring expeditions in glowing terms, and repeated his former hopes of being able soon to make abundant shipments of gold and other articles of value. Special stress was laid on the beauty and fertility of the land, including its adaptation to the raising of the various grains and vegetables produced in Europe. Time, however, would be required, he said, to obtain the provisions necessary for subsistence from the fields and gardens; and therefore the colonists must rely, for a considerable time to come, upon shipments from home. He then enumerated the articles that would be especially needed. He censured the contractors that had furnished the wine, charging them with using leaky casks, and then called for an additional number of workmen and mechanics and men skilled in the working of ores.

This interesting report is still preserved, with the comments of the Spanish sovereigns written on the margins. To the descriptions of what had been done, as well as to the recommendations for the future, commendation and assent were given in generous and complimentary terms. One or two passages are of exceptional interest. In regard to the wine, Columbus writes,—

“A large portion of the wine that we brought with us has run away, in consequence, as most of the men say, of the bad cooperage of the butts made at Seville; the article that we stand most in need of now, and shall stand in need of, is wine.”