Part 3 (1/2)
Martin Alonzo Pinzon, it turns out, is in Rome; so Christopher has to wait until his return. Another delay, but he is well used to that.
Meanwhile he turns it to profit by making trips to Palos, Huelva, Moguer, and other ports where he can question sailors newly returned from the west. For half a dozen years he has been out of touch with mariners and their doings, and these trips must have given him deep pleasure. For this is his true place,--among men who have known the rough hards.h.i.+ps of seafaring life, and not among grandees and courtiers.
He breathes in the salt air and chats with every man he meets. A pilot of Palos, Pedro de Velas...o...b.. name, tells him that he too once thought of going into the west, but after sailing one hundred and fifty leagues southwest of Fayal (one of the Azores), and seeing nothing but banks of seaweed, he turned north and then northwest, only to again turn back; but he is sure, he adds, that _if only he had kept on_ he would have found land.
Christopher, also, as we know, is quite sure of it, and says so. Another day, in a seaport near Cadiz, he meets another pilot who tells him that he sailed far west from the Irish coast and saw the sh.o.r.es of Tartary!
Christopher probably has some doubts of this, so he merely shrugs his shoulders and walks off. He is impatient for Martin Alonzo Pinzon to return. It is disturbing to learn that other men have been getting nearer and nearer to _his_ land.
At last Pinzon comes and announces, to add to Christopher's uneasiness, that he has been searching in the Pope's library, in Rome, for information regarding that enormously rich Asiatic island called c.i.p.ango. As they all sit in the little cell at La Rabida, talking about the proposed western voyage of discovery, Pinzon cannot help throwing in a word occasionally about c.i.p.ango. He has been reading Marco Polo, and j.a.pan, or c.i.p.ango, is very much on his mind. Perhaps on Christopher's, also, but _he_ is content to stick to his ”western lands.” About this scheme the two men of Palos, Pinzon and Doctor Fernandez, are as enthusiastic as ever; Martin Alonzo Pinzon repeats his offer to sail as captain of one of the s.h.i.+ps; he even goes further, for he offers to advance money for the venture in case the Crown is unwilling or unable to provide the entire sum necessary. All this sounds very promising to the good prior, who vows that he is willing to speak with the queen if Christopher will give up forever his idea of going to France. It is a last ray of hope to the discouraged man, and he agrees.
And so that very day a courier started out from the white monastery among the dark pine trees to find the queen at Granada, and give her Friar Juan's letter craving an interview on ”an important matter.” In those days it took two weeks, at least, for a courier to ride from Palos to Granada and back. On the fourteenth day, we may be sure, the prior and his guest kept scanning the eastern horizon anxiously. That very evening the man returned. He brought a royal letter granting the monk's request.
”Splendid!” cried the old monk. ”I shall start this very night! Find me a mule, some one.”
So everybody scurried around the neighborhood to see who would lend the prior a mule; and finally a man of Moguer said he would spare his beast awhile, though he never would have lent him to any other man than the good prior of La Rabida! Then he ventured to hope that the prior would not ride him too hard; as if any one, even an enthusiast helping to discover America, could ride a mule ”too hard”!
By midnight the mule was brought up, and off started the prior, followed by the good wishes of everybody who was in the secret. Queen Isabella received him the moment he arrived at her camp of Santa Fe (Holy Faith) below the walls of Granada. With intense fervor he pleaded Columbus's cause. The Marchioness of Moya--the lady who had been wounded by the Moor at Malaga in mistake for the queen--was present, and she added her persuasions. The result was that Isabella not only commanded Columbus to appear before her, but she sent him money to buy suitable court raiment and to travel to Granada in comfort. How happy Friar Juan must have been when he sent the following letter back by royal courier to the waiting guest in La Rabida:--
”All has turned out well. Far from despising your project, the queen has adopted it from this time. My heart swims in a sea of comfort and my spirit leaps with joy in the Lord. Start at once, for the queen waits for you, and I more than she. Commend me to the prayers of my good brethren and of your little boy Diego.”
What a dear, human, lovable old gentleman was that Rabida prior! May his spirit still ”leap with joy in the Lord!”
Columbus was buoyed up again. To be sure the queen promised nothing definite; but she had always told him that she would give him more attention when the war was over, and the courier declared that things were going very badly for the beleaguered Moorish city of Granada. It was the enemy's last citadel and, said he, it could not hold out much longer. Columbus, perhaps, took the news with moderation, for he was used to having things go wrong; but if only for the sake of the good brethren, he must have tried to look happy as he put on his new garments and rode out of La Rabida for Granada.
CHAPTER VII
ISABELLA DECIDES
We have now come to that famous Granada interview described in the first chapter,--a moment so important that Columbus, when he decided to keep a journal, opened it with this paragraph:--
”In the present year, 1492, after Your Highnesses had concluded that warfare in the great city of Granada where I saw the royal banners of Your Highnesses placed by force of arms on the towers of the Alhambra, and where I beheld the Moorish King go forth from the gates of his city....”
How Columbus arrived during the surrender we have already seen; how everybody of importance at the Spanish court--priests, military leaders, and government officials--gathered to hear him speak; and how, for the first time, the majority of his listeners were won over to his unpopular ideas. We know, too, how their admiration turned to distrust when he demanded large rewards should his voyage of discovery be successful; and we know how he was obstinate, and rode away, only to be overtaken by the queen's messenger at Pinos bridge below the high Elvira Mountains and brought back. And this is how Queen Isabella happened to recall him.
Those friends who had been encouraging him for the last few years were deeply distressed over his departure and over the bad impression he had left at court. They felt that their beloved country was losing a wonderful opportunity of becoming the foremost power in Europe. England, France, Italy, all were greater than Spain because they had been forging ahead while Spain had been hampered by Moorish wars. Even Portugal, Spain's very small neighbor, had forged ahead by reason of her unequaled maritime enterprise. One of these countries was sure to grow even more important through giving Columbus a few s.h.i.+ps and a few t.i.tles. Said this little group to each other, ”No matter what the man's price, Spain will have to pay it!”
Luis de Santangel, treasurer of King Ferdinand's realm of Aragon, determined to go and talk it over with the queen who, apparently, had not been present at the recent hearing of Columbus. To apply further to Ferdinand would have been useless, for he had vowed he would have nothing more to do with the matter. Isabella possessed more imagination than her husband, and to this imagination Santangel thought he could appeal.
First he pointed out that Columbus's very stubbornness about rewards might be taken as proof that he was certain to find whatever he promised to find; then he reminded her that the navigator was a very devout man, and that in his enterprise there was a strong religious motive; should he discover new lands, not only would their heathen population be converted to Christianity, but their commerce would make Spain so wealthy that she could undertake a new crusade and conquer the infidels who held the Holy Sepulchre. This possibility impressed Isabella profoundly, for she and her husband were the stanchest defenders of Christianity in all Europe. Now that Santangel had roused her imagination, he proceeded to make the whole matter clear by a practical suggestion as to ways and means. He reminded his royal listener that Columbus had offered to raise one eighth of the expense of the expedition (Columbus having repeated the offer made at La Rabida by Pinzon); and as for the remainder, he, Santangel, would be responsible for it. Either he would lend it himself (he belonged to one of the rich Jewish families that had become Christian) or he would induce King Ferdinand to allow it to be taken from the Aragon treasury and repaid later. (Ferdinand, apparently, was not such an unmanageable person, after all.)
Right here is where the story of Isabella pledging her jewels would come in if there were sufficient reasons for believing it, but there is little proof of it; indeed, rather more against it. Not only did Santangel show the queen how the money could be obtained otherwise, but, as she had already pledged much of her jewelry in Valencia and Barcelona in order to aid the Moorish war, her husband's treasurer would surely have deterred her from parting with more. However, she was now so enthusiastic over Columbus's affair that she undoubtedly would have made some such offer had no other means of raising the money been found.
The queen knew that her husband disapproved of the would-be discoverer's high terms; she knew that all the grandees of the kingdom disapproved; she knew that the expedition might end in failure and bring down ridicule on her head; and yet she rose and cried in ringing tones, ”Bring the man back! I will undertake this thing for my own crown of Castile.”
Isabella, we must remember, was queen of Castile and Leon, and Ferdinand was king of Aragon, each still ruling his own portion, although their marriage had united these portions into one kingdom. Hence, though Ferdinand had lost interest in Columbus's affair, Isabella was quite free to aid him. It was to commemorate her personal venture that later, after they had allowed Columbus to adopt a coat of arms, some poet wrote on its reverse side the famous couplet which excluded Aragon from a share in the discovery:--
A Castilla y a Leon Nuevo mundo dio Colon.