The Consent Of Spain - 2
The only explanation of it is to be found in the character of Columbus. We must try to see
him as he is in this forty-second year of his life, bargaining with notaries, bishops, and
treasurers; we must try to see where these forty years have brought him, and what they
have made of him. Remember the little boy that played in the Vico Dritto di Ponticello,
acquainted with poverty, but with a soul in him that could rise beyond it and acquire
something of the dignity of that Genoa, arrogant, splendid and devout, which surrounded
him during his early years. Remember his long life of obscurity at sea, and the slow
kindling of the light of faith in something beyond the familiar horizons; remember the
social inequality of his marriage, his long struggle with poverty, his long familiarity with
the position of one who asked and did not receive; the many rebuffs and indignities
which his Ligurian pride must have received at the hands of all those Spanish dignitaries
and grandees—remember all this, and then you will perhaps not wonder so much that
Columbus, who was beginning to believe himself appointed by Heaven to this task of
discovery, felt that he had much to pay himself back for. One must recognise him frankly
for what he was, and for no conventional hero of romance; a man who would reconcile
his conscience with anything, and would stop at nothing in the furtherance of what he
deemed a good object; and a man at the same time who had a conscience to reconcile,
and would, whenever it was necessary, laboriously and elaborately perform the act of
reconciliation. When he made these huge demands in Granada he was gambling with his
chances; but he was a calculating gambler, just about as cunning and crafty in the
weighing of one chance against another as a gambler with a conscience can be; and he
evidently realised that his own valuation of the services he proposed to render would not
be without its influence on his sovereign's estimate of them. At any rate he was justified
by the results, for on the 17th of April 1492, after a deal of talk and bargaining, but
apparently without any yielding on Columbus's part, articles of capitulation were drawn
up in which the following provisions were made:—
First, that Columbus and his heirs for ever should have the title and office of Admiral in
all the islands and continents of the ocean that he or they might discover, with similar
honours and prerogatives to those enjoyed by the High Admiral of Castile.
Second, that he and his heirs should be Viceroys and Governors-General over all the said
lands and continents, with the right of nominating three candidates for the governing of
each island or province, one of whom should be appointed by the Crown.
Third, that he end his heirs should be entitled to one-tenth of all precious stones, metals,
spices, and other merchandises, however acquired, within his Admiralty, the cost of
acquisition being first deducted.
Fourth, that he or his lieutenants in their districts, and the High Admiral of Castile in his
district, should be the sole judge in all disputes arising out of traffic between Spain and
the new countries.
Fifth, that he now, and he and his heirs at all times, should have the right to contribute the
eighth part of the expense of fitting out expeditions, and receive the eighth part of the
profits.
In addition to these articles there was another document drawn up on the 30th of April,
which after an infinite preamble about the nature of the Holy Trinity, of the Apostle Saint
James, and of the Saints of God generally in their relations to Princes, and with a splendid
trailing of gorgeous Spanish names and titles across the page, confers upon our hitherto
humble Christopher the right to call himself "Don," and finally raises him, in his own
estimation at any rate, to a social level with his proud Spanish friends. It is probably from
this time that he adopted the Spanish form of his name, Christoval Colon; but in this
narrative I shall retain the more universal form in which it has become familiar to the
English-speaking world.
He was now upon a Pisgah height, from which in imagination he could look forth and see
his Land of Promise. We also may climb up with him, and stand beside him as he looks
westward. We shall not see so clearly as he sees, for we have not his inner light; and it is
probable that even he does not see the road at all, but only the goal, a single point of light
shining across a gulf of darkness. But from Pisgah there is a view backward as well as
forward, and, we may look back for a moment on this last period of Christopher's life in
Spain, inwardly to him so full of trouble and difficulty and disappointment, outwardly so
brave and glittering, musical with high-sounding names and the clash of arms; gay with
sun and shine and colour. The brilliant Court moving from camp to camp with its
gorgeous retinues and silken pavilions and uniforms and dresses and armours; the
excitement of war, the intrigues of the antechamber—these are the bright fabric of the
latter years; and against it, as against a background, stand out the beautiful names of the
Spanish associates of Columbus at this time—Medina Celi, Alonso de Quintanilla,
Cabrero, Arana, DEA, Hernando de Talavera, Gonzales de Mendoza, Alonso de
Cardenas, Perez, Hernandez, Luis de Santangel, and Rodriguez de Maldonado—names
that now, in his hour of triumph, are like banners streaming in the wind against a summer
sky.
The only explanation of it is to be found in the character of Columbus. We must try to see
him as he is in this forty-second year of his life, bargaining with notaries, bishops, and
treasurers; we must try to see where these forty years have brought him, and what they
have made of him. Remember the little boy that played in the Vico Dritto di Ponticello,
acquainted with poverty, but with a soul in him that could rise beyond it and acquire
something of the dignity of that Genoa, arrogant, splendid and devout, which surrounded
him during his early years. Remember his long life of obscurity at sea, and the slow
kindling of the light of faith in something beyond the familiar horizons; remember the
social inequality of his marriage, his long struggle with poverty, his long familiarity with
the position of one who asked and did not receive; the many rebuffs and indignities
which his Ligurian pride must have received at the hands of all those Spanish dignitaries
and grandees—remember all this, and then you will perhaps not wonder so much that
Columbus, who was beginning to believe himself appointed by Heaven to this task of
discovery, felt that he had much to pay himself back for. One must recognise him frankly
for what he was, and for no conventional hero of romance; a man who would reconcile
his conscience with anything, and would stop at nothing in the furtherance of what he
deemed a good object; and a man at the same time who had a conscience to reconcile,
and would, whenever it was necessary, laboriously and elaborately perform the act of
reconciliation. When he made these huge demands in Granada he was gambling with his
chances; but he was a calculating gambler, just about as cunning and crafty in the
weighing of one chance against another as a gambler with a conscience can be; and he
evidently realised that his own valuation of the services he proposed to render would not
be without its influence on his sovereign's estimate of them. At any rate he was justified
by the results, for on the 17th of April 1492, after a deal of talk and bargaining, but
apparently without any yielding on Columbus's part, articles of capitulation were drawn
up in which the following provisions were made:—
First, that Columbus and his heirs for ever should have the title and office of Admiral in
all the islands and continents of the ocean that he or they might discover, with similar
honours and prerogatives to those enjoyed by the High Admiral of Castile.
Second, that he and his heirs should be Viceroys and Governors-General over all the said
lands and continents, with the right of nominating three candidates for the governing of
each island or province, one of whom should be appointed by the Crown.
Third, that he end his heirs should be entitled to one-tenth of all precious stones, metals,
spices, and other merchandises, however acquired, within his Admiralty, the cost of
acquisition being first deducted.
Fourth, that he or his lieutenants in their districts, and the High Admiral of Castile in his
district, should be the sole judge in all disputes arising out of traffic between Spain and
the new countries.
Fifth, that he now, and he and his heirs at all times, should have the right to contribute the
eighth part of the expense of fitting out expeditions, and receive the eighth part of the
profits.
In addition to these articles there was another document drawn up on the 30th of April,
which after an infinite preamble about the nature of the Holy Trinity, of the Apostle Saint
James, and of the Saints of God generally in their relations to Princes, and with a splendid
trailing of gorgeous Spanish names and titles across the page, confers upon our hitherto
humble Christopher the right to call himself "Don," and finally raises him, in his own
estimation at any rate, to a social level with his proud Spanish friends. It is probably from
this time that he adopted the Spanish form of his name, Christoval Colon; but in this
narrative I shall retain the more universal form in which it has become familiar to the
English-speaking world.
He was now upon a Pisgah height, from which in imagination he could look forth and see
his Land of Promise. We also may climb up with him, and stand beside him as he looks
westward. We shall not see so clearly as he sees, for we have not his inner light; and it is
probable that even he does not see the road at all, but only the goal, a single point of light
shining across a gulf of darkness. But from Pisgah there is a view backward as well as
forward, and, we may look back for a moment on this last period of Christopher's life in
Spain, inwardly to him so full of trouble and difficulty and disappointment, outwardly so
brave and glittering, musical with high-sounding names and the clash of arms; gay with
sun and shine and colour. The brilliant Court moving from camp to camp with its
gorgeous retinues and silken pavilions and uniforms and dresses and armours; the
excitement of war, the intrigues of the antechamber—these are the bright fabric of the
latter years; and against it, as against a background, stand out the beautiful names of the
Spanish associates of Columbus at this time—Medina Celi, Alonso de Quintanilla,
Cabrero, Arana, DEA, Hernando de Talavera, Gonzales de Mendoza, Alonso de
Cardenas, Perez, Hernandez, Luis de Santangel, and Rodriguez de Maldonado—names
that now, in his hour of triumph, are like banners streaming in the wind against a summer
sky.
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