Part 43 (1/2)
Mickle.
Notwithstanding the n.o.ble conceptions that lay at the bottom of the voyage we have just related, the perseverance and self-devotion that were necessary to its accomplishment, and the magnificence of the consequences that were dependent on its success, it attracted very little attention, amid the stirring incidents and active selfishness of the age, until the result was known. Only a month before the arrangement was made with Columbus, the memorable edict of the two sovereigns, for the expulsion of the Jews, had been signed; and this uprooting of so large a portion of the Spanish nation was, of itself, an event likely to draw off the eyes of the people from an enterprise deemed as doubtful, and which was sustained by means so insignificant, as that of the great navigator. The close of the month of July had been set as the latest period for the departure of these persecuted religionists; and thus, at the very time, almost on the very day, when Columbus sailed from Palos, was the attention of the nation directed toward what might be termed a great national calamity. The departure was like the setting forth from Egypt, the highways being thronged with the moving ma.s.ses, many of which were wandering they knew not whither.
The king and queen had left Granada in May, and after remaining two months in Castile, they pa.s.sed into Aragon, about the commencement of August, in which kingdom they happened to be when the expedition sailed.
Here they remained throughout the rest of the season, settling affairs of importance, and, quite probably, disposed to avoid the spectacle of the misery their Jewish edict had inflicted, Castile having contained much the greater portion of that cla.s.s of their subjects. In October, a visit was paid to the turbulent Catalans; the court pa.s.sing the entire winter in Barcelona. Nor did momentous events cease to occupy them while in this part of their territories. On the 7th of December an attempt was made on the life of Ferdinand; the a.s.sa.s.sin inflicting a severe, though not a fatal wound, by a blow on the neck. During the critical weeks in which the life of the king was deemed to be in danger, Isabella watched at his bed-side, with the untiring affection of a devoted wife; and her thoughts dwelt more on her affections than on any worldly aggrandis.e.m.e.nt. Then followed the investigation into the motives of the criminal; conspiracies ever being distrusted in such cases, although history would probably show that much the greater part of these wicked attempts on the lives of sovereigns, are more the results of individual fanaticism, than of any combined plans to destroy.
Isabella, whose gentle spirit grieved over the misery her religious submission had induced her to inflict on the Jews, was spared the additional sorrow of mourning for a husband, taken away by means so violent. Ferdinand gradually recovered. All these occurrences, together with the general cares of the state, had served to divide the thoughts of even the queen from the voyage; while the politic Ferdinand, in his mind, had long since set down the gold expended in the outfit as so much money lost.
The balmy spring of the south opened as usual, and the fertile province of Catalonia had already become delightful with the fresh verdure of the close of March. The king had, for some weeks, resumed his usual occupations, and Isabella, relieved from her conjugal fears, had again fallen into the quiet current of her duties and her usual acts of beneficence. Indisposed to the gorgeousness of her station by the recent events, and ever pining for the indulgence of the domestic affections, this estimable woman, notwithstanding the strong natural disposition she had always felt for that sort of life, had lived more among her children and confidants, of late, than had been even her wont. Her earliest friend, the Marchioness of Moya, as a matter of course, was ever near her person, and Mercedes pa.s.sed most of her time either in the immediate presence of her royal mistress, or in that of her children.
There had been a small reception one evening, near the close of the month; and Isabella, glad to escape from such scenes, had withdrawn to her private apartments, to indulge in conversation in the circle she so much loved. It was near the hour of midnight, the king being at work, as usual, in an adjoining closet. There were present, besides the members of the royal family and Dona Beatriz with her lovely niece, the Archbishop of Granada, Luis de St. Angel, and Alonzo de Quintanilla, the two last of whom had been summoned by the prelate, to discuss some question of clerical finance before their ill.u.s.trious mistress. All business, however, was over, and Isabella was rendering the circle agreeable, with the condescension of a princess and the gentle grace of a woman.
”Are there fresh tidings from the unfortunate and deluded Hebrews, Lord Archbishop?” demanded Isabella, whose kind feelings ever led her to regret the severity which religious dependence on her confessors had induced her to sanction. ”Our prayers should surely attend them, notwithstanding our policy and duty have demanded their expulsion.”
”Senora,” answered Fernando de Talavera, ”they are doubtless serving Mammon among the Moors and Turks, as they served him in Spain. Let not your Highness' gracious mind be disturbed on account of these descendants of the enemies and crucifiers of Christ, who, if they suffer at all, do but suffer justly, for the unutterable sin of their forefathers. Let us rather inquire, my gracious mistress, of the Senores St. Angel and Quintanilla here, what hath become of their favorite Colon, the Genoese; and when they look for his return, dragging the Great Khan, a captive, by the beard!”
”We know naught of him, holy prelate,” put in de St. Angel, briskly, ”since his departure from the Canaries.”
”The Canaries!” interrupted the queen, in a little surprise. ”Hath aught been received, that cometh from that quarter?”
”By report only, Senora. Letters have not reached any in Spain, that I can learn, but there is a rumor from Portugal, that the admiral touched at Gomera and the Grand Canary, where it would seem he had his difficulties, and whence he shortly after departed, holding a western course; since which time no tidings have been received from either of the caravels.”
”By which fact, Lord Archbishop,” added Quintanilla, ”we can perceive that trifles are not likely to turn the adventurers back.”
”I'll warrant ye, Senores, that a Genoese adventurer who holdeth their Highnesses' commission as an admiral, will be in no unseemly haste to get rid of the dignity!” rejoined the prelate, laughing, without much deference to his mistress' concessions in Columbus' favor. ”One does not see rank, authority, and emolument, carelessly thrown aside, when they may be retained by keeping aloof from the power whence they spring.”
”Thou art unjust to the Genoese, holy sir, and judgest him harshly,”
observed the queen. ”Truly, I did not know of these tidings from the Canaries, and I rejoice to hear that Colon hath got thus far in safety.
Hath not the past been esteemed a most boisterous winter among mariners, Senor de St. Angel?”
”So much so, your Highness, that I have heard the seamen here, in Barcelona, swear that, within the memory of man, there hath not been another like it. Should ill-luck wait upon Colon, I trust this circ.u.mstance may be remembered as his excuse; though I doubt if he be very near any of our tempests and storms.”
”Not he!” exclaimed the bishop, triumphantly. ”It will be seen that he hath been safely harbored in some river of Africa; and we shall have some question yet to settle about him with Don John of Portugal.”
”Here is the king to give us his opinion,” interposed Isabella. ”It is long since I have heard him mention the name of Colon. Have you entirely forgotten our Genoese admiral, Don Fernando?”
”Before I am questioned on subjects so remote,” returned the king, smiling, ”let me inquire into matters nearer home. How long is it that your Highness holdeth court, and giveth receptions, past the hour of midnight?”
”Call you this a court, Senor? Here are but our own dear children, Beatriz and her niece, with the good archbishop, and those two faithful servants of your own.”
”True; but you overlook the ante-chambers, and those who await your pleasure without.”
”None can await without at this unusual hour; surely you jest, my lord.”
”Then your own page, Diego de Ballesteros, hath reported falsely.
Unwilling to disturb your privacy, at this unseasonable hour, he hath come to me, saying that one of strange conduct and guise is in the palace, insisting on an interview with the queen, let it be late or early. The accounts of this man's deportment are so singular, that I have ordered him to be admitted, and have come myself to witness the interview. The page telleth me that he swears all hours are alike, and that night and day are equally made for our uses.”
”Dearest Don Fernando, there may be treason in this!”
”Fear not, Isabella; a.s.sa.s.sins are not so bold, and the trusty rapiers of these gentlemen will prove sufficient for our protection--Hist! there are footsteps, and we must appear calm, even though we apprehend a tumult.”