In Spain Again

In Spain Again

For Columbus everything depended upon his reception by the Sovereigns at this time.

Unless he could re-establish his hold upon them and move to a still more secure position

in their confidence he was a ruined man and his career was finished; and one cannot but

sympathise with him as he sits there searching his mind for tempting and convincing

arguments, and speaking so calmly and gravely and confidently in spite of all the doubts

and flutterings in his heart. Like a tradesman setting out his wares, he brought forth every

inducement he could think of to convince the Sovereigns that the only way to make a

success of what they had already done was to do more; that the only way to make

profitable the money that had already been spent was to spend more; that the only way to

prove the wisdom of their trust in him was to trust him more. One of his transcendent

merits in a situation of this kind was that he always had something new and interesting to

propose. He did not spread out his hands and say, "This is what I have done: it is the best

I can do; how are you going to treat me?" He said in effect, "This is what I have done;

you will see that it will all come right in time; do not worry about it; but meanwhile I

have something else to propose which I think your Majesties will consider a good plan."

His new demand was for a fleet of six ships, two of which were to convey supplies to

Espanola, and the other four to be entrusted to him for the purpose of a voyage of

discovery towards the mainland to the south of Espanola, of which he had heard

consistent rumours; which was said to be rich in gold, and (a clever touch) to which the

King of Portugal was thinking of sending a fleet, as he thought that it might lie within the

limits of his domain of heathendom. And so well did he manage, and so deeply did he

impress the Sovereigns with his assurance that this time the thing amounted to what is

vulgarly called "a dead certainty," that they promised him he should have his ships.

But promise and performance, as no one knew better than Columbus, are different things;

and it was a long while before he got his ships. There was the usual scarcity of money,

and the extensive military and diplomatic operations in which the Crown was then

engaged absorbed every maravedi that Ferdinand could lay his hands on. There was an

army to be maintained under the Pyrenees to keep watch over France; fleets had to be

kept patrolling both the Mediterranean and Atlantic seaboards; and there was a whole

armada required to convey the princesses of Spain and Austria to their respective

husbands in connection with the double matrimonial alliance arranged between the two

countries. And when at last, in October 1496, six million maravedis were provided

wherewith Columbus might equip his fleet, they were withdrawn again under very

mortifying circumstances. The appropriation had just been made when a letter arrived

from Pedro Nino, who had been to Espanola and come back again, and now wrote from

Cadiz to the Sovereigns, saying that his ships were full of gold. He did not present

himself at Court, but went to visit his family at Huelva; but the good news of his letter

was accepted as an excuse for this oversight.

No one was better pleased than the Admiral. "What did I tell you?" he says; "you see the

mines of Hayna are paying already." King Ferdinand, equally pleased, and having an

urgent need of money in connection with his operations against France, took the

opportunity to cancel the appropriation of the six million maravedis, giving Columbus

instead an order for the amount to be paid out of the treasure brought home by Nino.

Alas, the mariner's boast of gold had been a figure of speech. There was no gold; there

was only a cargo of slaves, which Nino deemed the equivalent of gold; and when

Bartholomew's despatches came to be read he described the affairs of Espanola as being

in very much the same condition as before. This incident produced a most unfortunate

impression. Even Columbus was obliged to keep quiet for a little while; and it is likely

that the mention of six million maravedis was not welcomed by him for some time

afterwards.

After the wedding of Prince Juan in March 1497, when Queen Isabella had more time to

give to external affairs, the promise to Columbus was again remembered, and his position

was considered in detail. An order was made (April 23rd, 1497), restoring to the Admiral

the original privileges bestowed upon him at Santa Fe. He was offered a large tract of

land in Espanola, with the title of Duke; but much as he hankered after titular honours, he

was for once prudent enough to refuse this gift. His reason was that it would only further

damage his influence, and give apparent justification to those enemies who said that the

whole enterprise had been undertaken merely in his own interests; and it is possible also

that his many painful associations with Espanola, and the bloodshed and horrors that he

had witnessed there, had aroused in his superstitious mind a distaste for possessions and

titles in that devastated Paradise. Instead, he accepted a measure of relief from the

obligations incurred by his eighth share in the many unprofitable expeditions that had

been sent out during the last three years, agreeing for the next three years to receive an

eighth share of the gross income, and a tenth of the net profits, without contributing

anything to the cost. His appointment of Bartholomew to the office of Adelantado, which

had annoyed Ferdinand, was now confirmed; the universal license which had been

granted to Spanish subjects to settle in the new lands was revoked in so far as it infringed

the Admiral's privileges; and he was granted a force of 330 officers, soldiers, and

artificers to be at his personal disposal in the prosecution of his next voyage.

The death of Prince Juan in October 1497 once more distracted the attention of the Court

from all but personal matters; and Columbus employed the time of waiting in drafting a

testamentary document in which he was permitted to create an entail on his title and

estates in favour of his two sons and their heirs for ever. This did not represent his

complete or final testament, for he added codicils at various times, the latest being

executed the day before his death. The document is worth studying; it reveals something

of the laborious, painstaking mind reaching out down the rivers and streams of the future

that were to flow from the fountain of his own greatness; it reveals also his triple

conception of the obligations of human life in this world—the cultivation and retention of

temporal dignity, the performance of pious and charitable acts, and the recognition of

duty to one's family. It was in this document that Columbus formulated the curious cipher

which he always now used in signing his name, and of which various readings are given

in the Appendix. He also enjoined upon his heir the duty of using the simple title which

he himself loved and used most—"The Admiral."

After the death of Prince Juan, Queen Isabella honoured Columbus by attaching his two

sons to her own person as pages; and her friendship must at this time have gone far to

compensate him for the coolness shown towards him by the public at large. He might talk

as much as he pleased, but he had nothing to show for all his talk except a few trinkets, a

collection of interesting but valueless botanical specimens, and a handful of miserable

slaves. Lives and fortunes had been wrecked on the enterprise, which had so far brought

nothing to Spain but the promise of luxurious adventure that was not fulfilled and of a

wealth and glory that had not been realised. It must have been a very humiliating

circumstance to Columbus that in the preparations which he was now (February 1498)

making for the equipment of his new expedition a great difficulty was found in procuring

ships and men. Not even before the first voyage had so much reluctance been shown to

risk life and property in the enterprise. Merchants and sailors had then been frightened of

dangers which they did not know; now, it seemed, the evils of which they did know

proved a still greater deterrent. The Admiral was at this time the guest of his friend

Bernaldez, who has told us something of his difficulties; and the humiliating expedient of

seizing ships under a royal order had finally to be adopted. But it would never have done

to impress the colonists also; that would have been too open a confession of failure for

the proud Admiral to tolerate.

Instead he had recourse to the miserable plan of which he had made use in Palos; the

prisons were opened, and criminals under sentence invited to come forth and enjoy the

blessings of colonial life. Even then there was not that rush from the prison doors that

might have been expected, and some desperate characters apparently preferred the

mercies of a Spanish prison to what they had heard of the joys of the Earthly Paradise.

Still a number of criminals did doubtfully crawl forth and furnish a retinue for the great

Admiral and Viceroy. Trembling, suspicious, and with more than half a mind to go back

to their bonds, some part of the human vermin of Spain was eventually cajoled and

chivied on board the ships.

The needs of the colony being urgent, and recruiting being slow, two caravels laden with

provisions were sent off in advance; but even for this purpose there was a difficulty about

money, and good Isabella furnished the expense, at much inconvenience, from her private

purse.

Columbus had to supervise everything himself; and no wonder that by the end of May,

when he was ready to sail, his patience and temper were exhausted and his much-tried

endurance broke down under the petty gnatlike irritations of Fonseca and his myrmidons.

It was on the deck of his own ship, in the harbour of San Lucar, that he knocked down

and soundly kicked Ximeno de Breviesca, Fonseca's accountant, whose nagging

requisitions had driven the Admiral to fury.

After all these years of gravity and restraint and endurance, this momentary outbreak of

the old Adam in our hero is like a breath of wind through an open window.

To the portraits of Columbus hanging in the gallery of one's imagination this must surely

be added; in which Christopher, on the deck of his ship, with the royal standard and the

Admiral's flag flying from his masthead, is observed to be soundly kicking a prostrate

accountant. The incident is worthy of a date, which is accordingly here given, as near as

may be—May 29, 1498.