Admiral of the Ocean Sea: Ii. Triumphant Return
I
THE first homeward passage from America to Europe was far more difficult and dangerous than the outward voyage of discovery. As Santa María had been wrecked near Cape Haitien, at a time when Martín Alonso Pinzón was off on an unauthorized gold hunt in Pinta, Columbus ran up his admiral’s pendant aboard Niña, and sailed her home. He overtook Pinta near Monte Cristi. The two caravels shoved off on January 16, 1493, and stayed within hailing distance of each other until February 13, when a severe cyclone blew them apart. When that storm was almost spent, Columbus sighted the island of Santa Maria in the Azores, stayed in and about it for ten days, and then proceeded toward Spain. Off the Portuguese coast another twister overtook Niña, blew out all her sails but one, and forced Columbus to put in at Lisbon. After refitting, he sailed for Palos, the original port of departure, on March 13, 1493.
Pinta in the meantime had sailed steadily to the east and north, making port in the last week of February before the second cyclone overtook her. Owing to Pinzón’s miscalculation of his position, the harbor he made was Bayona in Galicia, over 300 miles north of his intended landfall. Martín Alonso had been insubordinate during the voyage, and Columbus feared lest he should beat him home with the news. That is exactly what Pinta’s captain had in mind. He sent a message across Spain to Ferdinand and Isabella at Barcelona, begging permission to proceed thither and acquaint their Highnesses with the discovery. The Sovereigns replied with a complete snub, declaring that they chose to hear the news from the Admiral himself. So Martín Alonso set sail from Bayona with his tail between his legs, as it were, and doubtless torn between the hope that Niña had gone down and fear for the safety of his younger brother, her captain.
In the meantime, during the night of March 13-14 Niña was rolling southward, covering the 85 miles between Cape Espichel and Cape St. Vincent in her usual gallant manner. Before sunrise the dark profile of the Sacred Promontory loomed up on the port bow. As Columbus wore ship, turned eastward under the lee of the cliffs, and fired the traditional salute, he must have thought of the famous Portuguese infante Dom Henrique, who had made that wind-swept cape his home, and wished that he could have reported his discovery to a sailor prince who would appreciate his dangers and difficulties. In any case, the Admiral sighted the beach where he had swum ashore with an oar as a common seaman seventeen years before. Wind came light on March 14, and sunset found Niña off Faro, southernmost harbor of the Algarves. Pinta was then rounding Cape St. Vincent.
At sunrise on the fifteenth day of March the Admiral ‘found himself off Saltés,’ took his bearings on the pineclad summit of the Cerro del Puntal, stood off and on until the ebb was spent, ‘and at midday with a flood tide entered by the bar of Saltés within the harbor whence he had departed on August 3 the preceding year.’ The round voyage was completed in exactly thirty-two weeks.
‘Of this voyage I observe,’ says the Admiral, ‘that it hath miraculously been shown ... by the many signal miracles that He hath shown on the voyage and for me, who for so great a time was in the court of Your Highnesses with the opposition and against the opinion of so many high personages of your household, who were all against me, alleging this undertaking to be folly, which I hope in Our Lord will be to the greater glory of Christianity, which to some slight extent already has occurred.’
Thus, with a pardonable pride and a characteristic lack of grammar, Columbus concluded his Journal of the most momentous voyage in the world’s history, when Niña was fairly anchored in the Rio Tinto off the town of Palos.
Close in her wake sailed Pinta; the same tide took both caravels across the bar and up the river. As Pinta rounded the promontory where La Rábida stands guard, and Martín Alonso was straining his tired eyes for the first sight of his native town, someone forward pointed ahead and shouted, ‘La Niña, señor Capitán!’ And, by Saint Iago, there she was, snugged down as pretty as you please, might have been there a month. Thought we had shaken off that Genoese upstart forever near the Azores; but he beat us homo with the news after all. Queen Isabella’s pet foreigner — probably kissing her hand now, and basking in the royal sunshine.
That finished poor old Martín Alonso. Already a sick man from the hardships and exposure of the voyage, mortified by his snub from the Sovereigns, he could bear no more. Without waiting for Pinta’s sails to be furled, without reporting to the flagship, or so much as hailing his brother, Martín Alonso Pinzón had himself rowed ashore, went to his country house near Palos, crawled into bed, and died.
Both caravels and their passengers and crews were the objects of much admiring curiosity on the part of the people of Palos and Moguer. Many years later one Juan Roldán remembered well the bodas y banquetes, the parties and banquets, that were held there in honor of the heroes. Another citizen recalled how he had visited Niña with a committee of inquisitors who at that time were combing Palos for Jews and heretics; how they saw the Indians aboard, to whom doubtless the inquisitors would have given the ‘third degree’ had they been able to make themselves understood; how the Admiral had shown them some of the gold masks presented by an Indian cacique, and taken a knife and cut off a bit of pure gold and presented it to him. A highly tactful way to treat an inquisitor!
Columbus, who had already dispatched the Letter on the First Voyage to his Sovereigns overland from Lisbon, now sent another copy by way of Seville, where there was an official courier who spent his time traveling back and forth from the court. A special messenger delivered a letter to the Admiral’s mistress at Cordova, together with a report to the municipality ‘concerning the islands that he had found.’ The city fathers were so pleased with this attention that they tipped the messenger nine golden ducats — but, unfortunately for us, they lost the letter.
The Sovereigns were holding court at Barcelona diagonally across the peninsula, an overland journey of some 800 miles. Columbus, with painful memories of muleback riding in Portugal, at first intended to go there by sea. But the arrival of Martín Alonso the same afternoon put a different complexion on the matter. Haste was a consideration. Yet he could not start by land until a messenger returned from Barcelona with the desired permission to proceed. Accordingly in his letter to the Sovereigns, which was dispatched immediately, Columbus requested that the reply be sent to Seville.
After spending almost two weeks with Fray Juan Pérez and his other friends at La Rábida, Columbus proceeded with ten Indian captives to Seville. He entered the city ‘with much honor on the 31st day of March, Palm Sunday, having fully realized his object, and there was very well received.’ The Indians were lodged near the Gate of the Imágines, where Bartolomé de las Casas remembered staring at them as a boy; the Admiral probably put up at the Monastery of Las Cuevas, where he always stayed on subsequent visits to Seville.
Holy Week in Seville, with its alternation of abject humility and superb pride, penance and pardon, death and victory, seemed at once a symbol and a fitting conclusion to his great adventure. The daily processions of the brotherhoods with their gorgeously bedecked statues of saints, the ancient ceremonies in the Cathedral — rending of the temple veil, knocking at the great door, candles on the great tenebrario extinguished until only the one representing the Light of the World remained, the washing of feet on Maundy Thursday, the supreme passion on Good Friday when the clacking of the matraca replaced the cheerful bells, the consecration of the paschal candle, and the supreme ecstasy of Easter morning — all that moved Columbus as no worldly honors could, and strengthened the conviction that his own toils and triumphs fitted the framework of the Passion. And it was pleasant to receive the congratulations of old friends (we always knew you would make it, old man!), to be presented to nobles and bishops, to dine with the alcalde and the archbishop and the Duke of Medina Sidonia, and to be pointed out in the crowd as the man who had sailed to the Indies and back; to have choice young Caballeros introduced by their fathers in order to plead with Señor Almirante to take them to the Indies, and they would scrub decks or do anything he asked.
What the Indian captives thought of it all we are not told.
On or shortly after Easter Sunday, which fell on April 7, Columbus’s cup of happiness overflowed on receiving a letter from the Sovereigns, addressed to ‘Don Cristóbal Colón, their Admiral of the Ocean Sea, Viceroy and Governor of the Islands that he hath discovered in the Indies.’ No quibbling about titles, no proofs of discovery required, but all that had been promised, promptly and generously conceded. It was short and to the point, with not a word too much or too little; titles and privileges confirmed, royal command to attend court, and a blanket order to prepare a new expedition to the Indies.
Immediately after receiving this, Columbus drew up a memorial to the Sovereigns containing his ideas of how the colonization of Hispaniola should be effected and managed. This document, highly realistic in so far as it recognized that gold was the only object to draw colonists to Hispaniola, shows the Admiral in a new rôle, that of pioneer lawgiver to the New World.
Sending this letter ahead by a swift courier, the Admiral set forth from Seville clad in the garments and using the state suitable to his new rank. With him traveled Juan Niño, the loyal master of Niña, a few servants, and six Indians. These carried brightly colored parrots in cages, and wore their native guayças, ornaments and belts studded with polished fishbones ‘fashioned with admirable art, together with a great quantity and samples of finest gold, and many other things never before seen or heard tell of in Spain.’ The rumor had gone before that Columbus had discovered new lands called ‘Las Indias’ with a strange race of heathen and amazing things; so all along the way to Barcelona the people flocked from far and near to see the show. Nobody — not even an Irishman — loves a parade as does a Spaniard; the Admiral did not lack popular attention and applause to enliven his long journey. In early April, moreover, Andalusia is at her fairest, with trees in full leaf, fruit in blossom, the fields green with young grain, and the pastures fresh with young grass.
Traversing the great rolling plain of Andalusia, the cortège on the second or third day entered Cordova by the Moorish stone bridge over the Quadalquivir. Here Columbus saw his two sons Diego and Ferdinand, visited his mistress Beatriz Enríquez de Harana and his old friends; here too he was entertained by the municipality, whom he had especially informed of the discovery. The cavalcade then crossed the Sierra Morena into Murcia, reached the coast at Valencia, and followed the coastal road through Tarragona to Barcelona, where it arrived between April 15 and 20. ‘All the court and the city came out’ to meet the Admiral, says his son.
Next day Columbus was publicly received in the Alcazar with appropriate pomp and solemnity by the King and Queen. He entered the hall where the Sovereigns held court with a multitude of caballeros and nobles; and among the best blood of Spain his fine stature and air of authority, his noble countenance and gray hair, gave him the appearance of a Roman Senator, as he advanced with a modest smile to make his obeisance. As he approached Ferdinand and Isabella they arose from their thrones, and when he knelt to kiss their hands they graciously bade him rise and be seated between them and the Infante Don Juan. An hour or more passed quickly while the Sovereigns examined his plunder and the Indians and their trappings, asked him a multitude of questions about the islands, and discussed plans for the next expedition. Then all adjourned to the chapel royal, where the Te Deum was chanted in honor of the Great Discovery, while tears of joy streamed from the Sovereigns’ and the Admiral’s eyes. At the close of the service, Columbus was ceremoniously conducted as a royal guest to the lodgings that had been provided for him.
This was the height of his fortunes. Never again would he know such glory, receive such praise, enjoy such favor from his Sovereigns. A more subtle man, one who worked only for material reward, would have taken it forthwith and retired, leaving others to colonize. But Columbus was not that sort of man, or he would not have made his discovery. He must hold the islands gained for Spain, extend his discoveries, make contact with the Grand Khan, find the mines of gold, begin the work of conversion. The task that God intended him to perform had only begun.
II
For five or six weeks Columbus remained with the court at Barcelona, taking a prominent part in the great festivals of Whitsuntide, Trinity Sunday, and Corpus Christi, attending state dinners, receiving people who wished to go to the Indies, advising the Sovereigns on diplomatic matters, and making plans for the Second Voyage. Unique and memorable was the ceremony of baptizing the six Indians. King, Queen, and Infante Don Juan acted as godparents; to the Indian first in rank, cousin of a cacique, they gave the name Fernando de Aragon; to another, Don Juan de Castilla, and to a third, Don Diego Colon. ‘Don Juan’ remained attached to the royal household, ‘where he was as well behaved and circumspect,’ says Oviedo, ‘as if he had been the son of an important caballero’; but he died in two years’ time. The others accompanied Columbus on his Second Voyage, but only two survived it.
The most important man in the kingdom after Ferdinand was Don Pedro Gonzáles de Mendoza, Archbishop of Toledo and Grand Cardinal of Spain. Las Casas extols his wisdom and ability, his warm and generous nature, the splendor and munificence of his state, and the favor that he enjoyed with the Sovereigns; indeed his character was such that no one was jealous of his power, and it was said ‘that the Cardinal carried the court with him; for when he was in the court, court was held, and when he was absent there was no court.’ At a banquet given by this great man, Columbus was accorded the place of honor, and treated with the ceremony of the salva, usually reserved for royalty — which meant that every dish offered to him was first tasted by the host, and then served covered.
To this ceremonial occasion was attributed the famous egg story, the only anecdote about Columbus that everybody knows. We may as well translate the ‘original source’ of it, Benzoni’s Historia del Mondo Nuovo, the first Italian history of the New World, which came out in 1565: —
Columbus being at a party with many noble Spaniards, where, as was customary, the subject of the conversation was the Indies: one of them undertook to say: ‘Señor Cristóbal, even if you had not undertaken this great enterprise, we should not have lacked a man who would have made the same discovery that you did, here in our own country of Spain, as it is full of great men clever in cosmography and literature.’ Columbus made no reply, but took an egg and had it placed on the table saying: ‘Gentlemen, you make it stand here, not with crumbs, salt, etc. (for anyone knows how to do it with meal or sand), but naked and without anything at all, as I will, who was the first to discover the Indies.’ They all tried, and no one succeeded in making it stand up. When the egg came round to the hands of Columbus, by beating it down on the table he fixed it, having thus crushed a little of one end; wherefore all remained confused, understanding what he meant: that after the deed is done everybody knows how to do it; that they ought first to have sought for the Indies, and not laugh at him who had sought for them first.
Unfortunately this egg story had already done duty in an Italian biography of the architect Brunelleschi. Moreover, a Spanish courtier, unless very drunk, would hardly dare address an insolent query to the guest of honor of the Grand Cardinal of Spain; and a selfmade admiral at his first gastronomic dinner would probably have found something better to do than juggle a hard-boiled egg. Benzoni used the tale, I feel certain, simply to illustrate a point about Columbus that the belittlers in his own time, like the detractors of ours, always evade. If the voyage was easy and obvious or based on previous information of America, why did Columbus have such difficulty in obtaining the meagre equipment and few men that he needed? His ‘Enterprise of the Indies’ had been rejected by the kings of England and France, twice by the king of Portugal, and at least twice by Ferdinand and Isabella, before they consented to support it. Furthermore, Columbus had taken out no patent on the enterprise. His advocacy over a period of at least eight years had made it public property. Europe had thousands of ships, tens of thousands of seamen, capable of making the voyage. Why, then, did not someone else beat him to it? Obviously because the faith and the will were lacking, save in the stout heart of Columbus. So the egg story has merit, like a fable of La Fontaine, even if it is not true.
Columbus as a newly created nobleman required a grant of arms as outward and visible sign of his rank; and on May 20, 1493, the Sovereigns issued letters patent conferring the right to augment his father’s simple arms (blue bend on gold field with a red chief) by the gold castle of Castile, the purple lion of Leon, and ‘some gold islands in waves of the sea.’ Later he added, as a fourth quarter, five gold anchors on a blue field, and relegated the Colombo family arms to an arched point in the base.
It was also necessary, from Columbus’s point of view, that the rights and privileges granted him conditionally at Granada on April 30, 1492, should be expressly and formally confirmed, now that the conditions had been fulfilled. He was, accordingly, confirmed in his right to appoint and remove all judges and other officials in the Indies; to hear, judge, and determine all suits civil or criminal, and to enjoy all other things properly appertaining to the offices of viceroy and governor, including the obedience of all persons living within the said islands and terra firma; whilst all who sailed upon the Ocean Sea, defined as the ocean west and south of a line drawn from the Azores to the Cape Verde Islands, were required to obey him as Admiral.
Almirante was a title of Moorish origin, meaning simply ‘the sea lord,’ which the mediæval kings of Castile used to designate a great officer of state whose business it was to administer the royal fleets and dockyards, and to exercise what is still known as admiralty jurisdiction. It was his duty to settle disputes among fishermen and in the merchant marine between owners, mariners, and merchants, and to take cognizance of piracy, mutiny, and all other crimes committed on the high seas or on tidal rivers. All these matters, for the narrow seas and the Canaries, were exercised by the Admiral of Castile or High Admiral, who held court at Seville. What Columbus wanted was jurisdiction over his own discoveries and the route thither, where he did not wish the Admiral of Castile to interfere. The Almirantazgo, or office of admiral, was as necessary for the control of men afloat as the viceroyalty for the government of men ashore. That is why Columbus was created Admiral ‘of the Ocean Sea’ or ‘of the Indies’ — both titles were used in official documents. At a line drawn from the Azores to the Cape Verdes, where the High Admiral’s jurisdiction ended, that of Columbus began. I imagine that whenever his fleet crossed that meridian outward bound on the three last voyages, Columbus caused a gun to be fired and had some officer tell the seamen that they’d better behave themselves, since the Admiral now had power of life and death over them from that point on. But the office and title of Admiral had then no implication of commanding a fleet.
Columbus would have been more than human if he had not relished the favor of the Sovereigns, the friendship of the great and the admiration of lesser people, at Barcelona. But he did not tarry there merely to bask in social sunshine, to have his privileges confirmed, and to indulge in his unpopular habit of saying ‘I told you!’ to the courtiers who had made fun of the Great Enterprise. Ferdinand and Isabella wanted him on hand in order to give information and advice on delicate negotiations with Portugal and with the Holy See. They must secure Spain’s title to his discoveries, and to whatever future discoveries he or others might make in the same ‘region of the Indies.’
We need not dwell on the complicated diplomatic history of the four bulls issued by Pope Alexander VI in 1493, at the behest of his good friends Ferdinand and Isabella. The most important, the second bull Inter œtera, drew the famous line of demarcation between Spain and Portugal: the meridian 100 leagues (318 nautical miles) west of the Azores and Cape Verde Islands. West of this meridian all future discoveries should belong to Spain; east of it the king of Portugal might enlarge his empire.
Columbus undoubtedly suggested the demarcation line. In his Letter to the Sovereigns on the Third Voyage, he says, ‘When I sailed from Spain to the Indies, I found straightway on passing 100 leagues to the west of the Azores a very great change in the sky, the stars, the air temperature and the ocean; and I used much care in verifying this. I find that from North to South in passing the said meridian of 100 leagues beyond those islands, the compass needles that formerly varied to the eastward, now varied to the westward a full point. . . . And also I found the sea there full of weed, whilst up to this meridian not a single spray of it was encountered. I also found the sea, on arriving there, to be very soft and smooth; it never made up even when the wind was stiff. Also, I found westward of the said meridian the temperature of the air to be very mild, and no change in the quality winter or summer.’
In other words, the meridian 100 leagues west of the Azores marked the division between European and American conditions, between boisterous winds with high seas and gentle trades blowing over a ‘sea like the river of Seville,’ between cold weather and perpetual springtime. So the Inter œtera bull, prompted by Columbus, took an imaginary meteorological boundary and made it a political one.
According to Las Casas, it was an entomological boundary as well. Speaking of the fauna of the Indies, he remarks on the absence of lice and fleas. ‘As a general rule the ships and people who follow the sea are so crawling with this “fruit,” that for him who goeth to sea for the first time it is no small anxiety and travail; but for the Indies voyage we have a singular thing to remark: that up to the Canaries and 100 leagues beyond, or in the region of the Azores, many are the lice that breed; but from there on they all commence to die, so that upon raising the first islands of the Indies there be no man that breedeth or seeth one. On the homeward passage to Castile, every ship and person proceedeth clean of these creatures, until they attain the aforesaid region of the ocean, whenceforward, as if they waited upon us, they presently return in great and disturbing numbers.’ Undoubtedly it was an advantage to leave such ‘fruit’ on the Portuguese side of the line.
By the time Cervantes wrote Don Quixote, it had been demonstrated that the mariners’ little insect companions had overcome their prejudice against a voyage to ‘the Indies,’ but were reluctant to pass the Equator. During the adventure of the Enchanted Barque on the river Ebro, the Knight of the Woeful Countenance, imagining that he is sailing over the ocean sea, bids Sancho Panza search himself for vermin, in order to ascertain whether or not they have crossed the line. Sancho finds ‘more things than one’ on his neck, from which Don Quixote is forced to conclude that the Enchanted Barque still sails in north latitude!
III
Now let us see how the greatest piece of news since the coronation of Charlemagne was spread throughout Europe, and what people thought of it.
Apart from the ancient and universal method of mouth-to-mouth, news of Columbus’s First Voyage spread in two ways: by copies of his own Letter to the Sovereigns, and by private letters. The Letter to the Sovereigns, composed partly at sea before rough weather set in, concluded at anchor in the Azores, and postscripted at Lisbon, was a succinct and accurate digest of the voyage, except for the identification of the lands he had discovered. Columbus claimed that he had discovered certain islands ‘in the region of the Indies,’ and believed Cuba to be a promontory of China. He related, accurately enough, the sort of climate he had encountered, the gentle and hospitable nature of the Arawak Indians, their complete ‘state of nature,’ their possession of gold ornaments indicating near-by mines, and the likelihood that some of the new woods and plants of which he had taken samples were exceedingly valuable. He reported the presence of cannibals on islands that he had not seen. Disagreeable incidents such as the near-mutiny and the insubordination of Pinzón were not alluded to, and no mention was made of the loss of Santa María.
This letter, dispatched overland from Lisbon in early March 1493, reached the Sovereigns at Barcelona well ahead of Columbus, and they took every measure to give it full publicity. Several copies were made for important members of the royal household. One of these, endorsed to Luis de Santangel, the official who had persuaded the Queen to order the Voyage, was printed in Spanish at Barcelona, very badly, as a four-page folio pamphlet. Another manuscript copy, endorsed to Gabriel Sánchez, the Treasurer of Aragon, was translated into Latin and printed at Borne about the end of April, 1493, as a small eightpage pamphlet entitled Epistola Cristoferi Colom. It rapidly became a ‘best seller.’ Nine different editions of the Columbus Letter, printed in Latin in 1493 or 1494, have been found by bibliographers; and there were several editions of a metrical paraphrase in Italian verse.
Many Italians were then established in Spain as merchants, diplomats, or churchmen, and a number of their letters written to friends and patrons in Italy about the great discovery have been preserved. As early as the last week of March, 1493, the Signory of Florence received a letter from Spain stating that certain youths (giovani, probably a scribe’s error for genovesi, Genoese) with three caravels had gone in search of new countries ‘not already seen by the King of Portugal,’ and had discovered a very great island inhabited by naked people. They found considerable gold and a river whose sand was mixed with gold, as well as cotton, pines, cypress trees, and spicery.
The earliest Italian letter about the voyage to be preserved intact was written by an Italian merchant of Barcelona named Hannibal Zenaro to his brother at Milan on April 9, 1493. Zenaro says, in part, that ‘a certain Colomba with four caravels in 34 days arrived at a great island inhabited by naked people of olive complexion, without any skill in fighting and very timorous. . . . from this island they then passed on to other islands . . . two of which are each of greater extent than England or Scotland, and the other greater than all Spain. The aforesaid Colomba has left there some of his men. ... In that island they say they have found pepper, lignum aloes, and a mine of gold in the rivers, i.e., a river which has sand with many grains of gold. And the people there, it is said, navigate with canne (canoes) which are so big that the largest hold 70 and 80 men.’
The recipient of Zenaro’s letter gave a copy of it to the Ferraran envoy at Milan, who sent it on April 21 to his master, the famous Ercole d’Este, who was keenly interested in voyages and discoveries. As his court was a centre of scientific inquiry as well as of humanist learning, we may be certain that news of the discovery spread fast among the virtuosi of Northern Italy.
On April 22 an architect named Luca Fancelli writes from Florence about the discovery to his patron, the Marquis of Mantua. Fancelli does not mention the name of Columbus. He says that in sixteen (!) days vessels of the King of Spain ‘discovered certain islands, among others a very large island toward the Orient which had very great rivers and terrible mountains and a most fertile country, inhabited by handsome men and women, but they all go naked, except that some wear a leaf of cotton.
. . . The country is most abounding in gold.’ Allegretto Allegretti, a Sienese diarist, noted on April 25 that he had heard ‘from many letters of our merchants in Spain, and from the lips of many people,’ that Cristoforo Colombo (the first time his name is given correctly) had found islands with gold, spicery, and people of strange customs, and had left a garrison of eighty men on one island; ‘they consider our men as gods.’ The Duke of Milan’s agent at Bologna reported on June 17 that Columbo had found some ‘southern islands in the crossing of the Indian Ocean’ inhabited by ‘simple and naked people whom they tried to capture, treating them with liberality and humanity.’ Battista Fregoso, a former doge of Genoa, noted in his ‘Chronicle of Memorable Words and Deeds’ for 1493 that Christophorus Columbus nations Genuensis had safely returned from India, having reached it in 31 days from Cádiz, as he proposed to do.
In contrast to the celerity with which the news spread in Italy, it seems to have reached Northern Europe very slowly. The great Nuremberg Chronicle was printed on July 12, 1493, without any mention of the discovery; and two days later a Nuremberg scientist wrote to the king of Portugal, urging him to undertake a western voyage to the Indies, in complete ignorance that Columbus had taken the trick. As for England, the earliest evidence that anyone there had heard about Columbus’s First Voyage is in a letter from Ferdinand and Isabella of March 28, 1496, to their ambassador at London, referring to news from him that ‘one like Columbus’ (John Cabot) was trying to persuade the king ‘to enter upon another undertaking like that of the Indies.’ One would suppose that Ferdinand and Isabella would have seen that copies of the Pope’s bulls reached the court of every seafaring nation; but no copies of any such communications have been found in the archives of any European state except Portugal.
From such letters and chronicles as have been unearthed it is clear that Columbus’s discovery struck the European imagination as a unique combination of the marvelous united to the truth. Scientific and literary curiosity was equally aroused. The points in Columbus’s discovery that chiefly interested people were the new things that recalled something very old, like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. The one touch of nature that made all newsmongers kin was the naked natives, especially the women who wore nothing but a leaf. Naked women were much less common in 1493 than today. All Europeans of that era were overdressed, according to our notions; and women were not accustomed to strip or bathe in public. Completely naked Negroes had been seen by the Portuguese discoverers in equatorial Africa; but whatever the Portuguese saw in the Dark Continent they did not tell. So Columbus’s story of men and women going winter and summer without clothes was news indeed.
Another group of facts that aroused comment were the lack of religion among these natives, their timid and generous nature, and their ignorance of lethal weapons; these characteristics, combined with their prelapsarian innocence, suggested to anyone with a classical education that the Golden Age still existed in far-off corners of the globe. Fascinating to all was Columbus’s statement that ‘most of the rivers’ in Hispaniola ‘yield gold,’ for everyone knew the legend of King Midas and the River Pactolus, for which the Portuguese had been vainly searching the west coast of Africa. Europe was short of specie, and any new gold strike, as in our own day, made a story of universal appeal. The exact location of these marvelous discoveries apparently interested nobody; the possibility that Columbus had opened up a new sea route to the Indies, and thus damaged the commerce of Italian seaports, did not occur to any letter writer of that nation.
Supposing there had been a popular press in 1493, and reporters with a scent for ‘human-interest stuff,’ one can imagine that Columbus’s Letter on his First Voyage, when ‘released to the press,’ would have been promptly cabled to Italy and written up something like this in the rewrite room of the Corriere de Genova:—
GENOA MAN SEES NAKED NATIVES FINDS GOLD IN RIVER SANDS RICH STRIKE FOR KING OF SPAIN
Colombo with Three Ships reaches Golden Islands near India — Men Bear No Arms and Women Wear No Clothes
BARCELONA, March 20. Our correspondent has heard a strange story of a discovery made for King Ferdinand. Captain Colon, said to be Genoese, reached new islands near India sailing 33 days across the Ocean Sea from the Canaries, in fleet of 3 caravels. Reports climate always summer, people living in state of nature; women show no shame although wearing only small fig leaf; men wear nothing but birds’ feathers in hair and gold jewelry on arms and legs. The Christians were received as gods from Heaven, on an island bigger than all Spain, says Colon, and given all they wanted. The natives have no priests or lawyers, having neither religion nor laws, and their only weapon is wooden spears. Their boats are made of a single tree and carry 70 to 80 men. Rivers in this country are full of gold, asserts discoverer, who has put in at Lisbon and is on his way to this city to see our King. The royal press bureau refused to affirm or deny the report.
Hon. G. Sanchez, Secretary of the Treasury, when interviewed, said, ‘This is good news, if true. It will justify public confidence in the administration and bring back prosperity.’ His Eminence, the Grand Cardinal of Spain, gave out this statement: ‘God alone should be thanked for so great a blessing to Spain. I hope that this glorious opportunity to extend the Catholic Faith will appeal to our frivolous college students, and turn their minds to higher things.’ Dr. Gomez, well-known professor of geography in the University of Salamanca, when informed, expressed doubt, said he knew Colon years ago, and considered him an impostor. India cannot be reached in 33 days, says Prof. Gomez. Most well-informed people believe the story, and a public reception is being planned for Captain Colon when he arrives at Barcelona. The Navy Department refused to confirm or deny a report that the King would promote him to Rear Admiral.
Our reporter, after research in old city directories, identified the discoverer as Cristoforo Colombo, son of Mr. Domencio Colombo of this city. Fr. Luigi, former teacher of the discoverer, looked up the school records in the presence of our reporter and said he remembered Cristoforo as a good boy, strict in his religious duties, who failed to receive a diploma because he was weak in geography. The father of our distinguished fellow citizen is a retired wool weaver living in the St. John Baptist ward. Contacted at his home, Mr. Colombo was told the news. He said, ‘It does not surprise me at all. Chris was always a boy for the girls and the money. I said he would come to no good leaving Genoa and going to Spain.’
(To be concluded)