 | CHAPTER VII. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
And reared the dwelling of his thoughts so strong
As neither fear nor hope can shake the frame
Of his resolved powers.”
Daniel.
The following day the Alhambra was crowded with
courtiers as usual; applicants for favours, those who sought
their own, and those who solicited the redress of imaginary
wrongs. The antechambers were thronged, and the different
individuals in waiting jealously eyed each other, as
if to inquire how far their neighbours would be likely to
thwart their several views or to advance their wishes. Men
bowed, in general, coldly and with distrust; and the few
that did directly pass their greetings, met with the elaborated
civility that commonly characterizes the intercourse
of palaces.
While curiosity was active in guessing at the business
of the different individuals present, and whispers, nods,
shrugs of the shoulders, and meaning glances, passed
among the old stagers, as they communicated to each other
the little they knew, or thought they knew, on different
subjects, there stood in the corner of the principal apartment,
one, in particular, who might be distinguished from
all around him, by his stature, the gravity and dignity of
his air, and the peculiar sort of notice that he attracted.
their backs, cast those glances of self-sufficiency and ridicule
about them, that characterize the vulgar-minded when
they fancy that they are deriding or sneering in consonance
with popular opinion. This was Columbus, who was very
generally regarded by the multitude as a visionary schemer,
and who necessarily shared in that sort of contemptuous
obloquy that attaches itself to the character. But even the
wit and jokes of the crowd had been expended upon this
subject, and the patience of those who danced attendance
was getting to be exhausted, when a little stir at the door
announced the approach of some new courtier. The manner
in which the throng quickly gave way, denoted the presence
of some one of high rank, and presently Don Luis
de Bobadilla stood in the centre of the room.
“It is the nephew of Her Highness's favourite,” whispered
one.
“A noble of one of the most illustrious families of Castile,”
said another; “but a fitting associate of this Colon, as
neither the authority of his guardians, the wishes of the
queen, nor his high station, can keep him from the life of
a vagabond.”
“One of the best lances in Spain, if he had the prudence
and wisdom to turn his skill to profit,” observed a third.
“That is the youthful knight who hath so well deported
himself in this last campaign,” growled an inferior officer
of the infantry, “and who unhorsed Don Alonso de Ojeda
in the tourney; but his lance is as unsteady in its aim, as
it is good in the rest. They tell me he is a rover.”
As if purposely to justify this character, Luis looked
about him anxiously a moment, and then made his way
directly to the side of Colon. The smiles, nods, shrugs,
and half-suppressed whispers that followed, betrayed the
common feeling; but a door on the side of the closet opening,
all eyes were immediately bent in that direction, and
the little interruption just mentioned was as soon forgotten.
“I greet you, Señor,” said Luis, bowing respectfully to
Columbus. “Since our discourse of last evening I have
thought of little besides its subject, and have come hither
to renew it.”
That Columbus was pleased by this homage, appeared in
body, as if full of the grandeur of his own designs; but
he was compelled to defer the pleasure that it always gave
him to dilate on his enterprise.
“I am commanded hither, noble Señor,” he answered,
cordially, “by the holy Archbishop of Granada, who, it
seemeth, hath it in charge from their Highnesses, to bring
my affair to a speedy issue, and who hath named this very
morning for that purpose. We touch upon the verge of
great events: the day is not distant, when this conquest of
Granada will be forgotten, in the greater importance of the
mighty things that God hath held in reserve!”
“By San Pedro, my new patron! I do believe you, Senor.
Cathay must lie at or near the spot you have named,
and your own eyes shall not see it, and its gorgeous stores
of wealth, sooner than mine. Remember Pedro de Muños,
I pray you, Señor Colon.”
“He shall not be forgotten, I promise you, young lord;
and all the great deeds of your ancestors will be eclipsed
by the glory achieved by their son. But I hear my name
called; we will talk of this anon.”
“El Señor Christoval Colon!” was called by one of the
pages, in a loud authoritative voice, and the navigator hurried
forward, buoyed up with hope and joy.
The manner in which one so generally regarded with indifference,
if not with contempt, had been selected from all
that crowd of courtiers, excited some surprise; but as the
ordinary business of the antechamber went on, and the
subordinates of office soon appeared in the rooms, to hear
solicitations and answer questions, the affair was quickly
forgotten. Luis withdrew disappointed, for he had hoped
to enjoy another long discourse with Columbus, on a subject
which, as it was connected with his dearest hopes, now
occupied most of his thoughts. We shall leave him, however,
and all in the antechambers, to follow the great navigator
farther into the depths of the palace.
Fernando de Talavera had not been unmindful of his
orders. Instead, however, of associating with this prelate,
men known to be well disposed to listen to the prepositions
of Columbus, the king and queen had made the mistake of
choosing some six or eight of their courtiers, persons of
little accustomed to learned research, properly to appreciate
the magnitude of the proposed discoveries. Into the presence
of these distinguished nobles and churchmen was
Columbus now ushered, and among them is the reader to
suppose him seated. We pass over the customary ceremonies
of the introduction, and proceed at once to the material
part of the narrative. The Archbishop of Granada was
the principal speaker on the part of the commissioners.
“We understand, Señor Colon,” continued the prelate,
“should you be favoured by their Highnesses' power and
authority, that you propose to undertake a voyage into the
unknown Atlantic, in quest of the land of Cathay and the
celebrated island of Cipango?”
“That is my design, holy and illustrious prelate. The
matter hath been so often up between the agents of the two
sovereigns and myself, that there is little occasion to enlarge
on my views.”
“These were fully discussed at Salamanca, of a verity,
where many learned churchmen were of your way of
thinking, Señor, though more were against it. Our Lord
the King, and our Lady the Queen, however, are disposed
to view the matter favourably, and this commission hath
been commanded that we might arrange all previous principles,
and determine the rights of the respective parties.
What force in vessels and equipments do you demand, in
order to achieve the great objects you expect, under the
blessing of God, to accomplish?”
“You have well spoken, Lord Archbishop; it will be by
the blessing of God, and under his especial care, that all
will be done, for his glory and worship are involved in the
success. With so good an ally of my side, little worldly
means will be necessary. Two caravels of light burthen
are all I ask, with the flag of the sovereigns, and a sufficiency
of mariners.”
The commissioners turned towards each other in surprise,
and while some saw in the moderate request the enthusiastic
heedlessness of a visionary, others detected the
steady reliance of faith.
“That is not asking much, truly,” observed the prelate,
who was among the first; “and, though these wars have
compass that little without the aid of a miracle. The caravels
might be found, and the mariners levied, but there
are weighty points to determine before we reach that concession.
You expect, Señor, to be intrusted with the command
of the expedition, in your own person?”
“Without that confidence I could not be answerable for
success. I ask the full and complete authority of an admiral,
or a sea-commander, of their Highnesses. The force
employed will be trifling in appearance, but the risks will
be great, and the power of the two crowns must completely
sustain that of him on whose shoulders will rest the entire
weight of the responsibility.”
“This is but just, and none will gainsay it. But, Señor,
have you thought maturely on the advantages that are to
accrue to the sovereigns, should they sustain you in this
undertaking?”
“Lord Archbishop, for eighteen years hath this subject
occupied my thoughts, and employed my studies, both by
day and by night. In the whole of that long period have
I done little that hath not had a direct bearing on the success
of this mighty enterprise. The advantages to all
concerned, that will flow from it, have, therefore, scarce
been forgotten.”
“Name them, Señor.”
“First, then, as is due to his all-seeing and omnipotent
protection, glory will be given to the Almighty, by the
spreading of his church and the increase of his worshippers.”
Fernando de Talavera and all the churchmen present
piously crossed themselves, an act in which Columbus
himself joined. “Their Highnesses, as is meet, will reap
the next advantages, in the extension of their empire and
in the increase of their subjects. Wealth will flow in upon
Castile and Aragon, in a rapid stream, His Holiness freely
granting to Christian monarchs the thrones and territories
of all infidel princes whose possessions may be discovered,
or people converted to the faith, through their
means.”
“This is plausible, Señor,” returned the prelate, “and
founded on just principles. His Holiness certainly is intrusted
with that power, and hath been known to use it, for
Don John of Portugal hath paid great attention to these
matters already, and that he and his predecessors have
probably pushed discovery to the verge of its final limits.
His enterprise hath also obtained from Rome certain privileges
that may not be meddled with.”
“I am not ignorant of the Portuguese enterprise, holy
prelate, nor of the spirit with which Don John hath exercised
his power. His vessels voyage along the western
shore of Africa, and in a direction altogether different from
that I propose to take. My purpose is to launch forth, at
once, into the broad Atlantic, and by following the sun towards
his place of evening retirement, reach the eastern
bounds of the Indies, by a road that will lessen the journey
many months.”
Although the archbishop, and most of his coadjutors,
belonged to the numerous class of those who regarded Columbus
as a brain-heated visionary, the earnest, but lofty
dignity, with which he thus simply touched upon his projects;
the manner in which he quietly smoothed down his
white locks, when he had spoken; and the enthusiasm that
never failed to kindle in his eye, as he dwelt on his noble
designs, produced a deep impression on all present, and
there was a moment when the general feeling was to aid
him to the extent of the common means. It was a singular
and peculiar proof of the existence of this transient feeling
that one of the commissioners immediately inquired —
“Do you propose, Señor Colon, to seek the court of
Prestor John?”
“I know not, noble Señor, that such a potentate hath
even an existence,” answered Columbus, whose notions had
got the fixed and philosophical bias that is derived from
science, and who entered little into the popular fallacies of
the day, though necessarily subject to much of the ignorance
of the age; “I find nothing to establish the truth of
there being such a monarch at all, or such territories.”
This admission did not help the navigator's cause; for
to affirm that the earth was a sphere, and that Prestor John
was a creature of the imagination, was abandoning the
marvellous to fall back on demonstration and probabilities;
is not fond of taking.
“There are men who will be willing to put faith in the
truth of Prestor John's power and territories,” interrupted
one of the commissioners, who was indebted to his present
situation purely to King Ferdinand's policy, “who will
flatly deny that the earth is round; since we all know that
there are kings, and territories, and Christians, while we
all see that the earth and the ocean are plains.”
This opinion was received with an assenting smile by
most present, though Fernando de Talavera had doubts of
its justice.
“Señor,” answered Columbus, mildly, “if all, in this
world, was in truth what it seemeth, confessions would be
little needed, and penance would be much lighter.”
“I esteem you a good Christian, Señor Colon,” observed
the archbishop, sharply.
“I am such as the grace of God, and a weak nature
have made me, Lord Archbishop; though I humbly trust
that when I shall have achieved this great end, that I may
be deemed more worthy of the divine protection, as well as
of the divine favour.”
“It hath been said that thou deemest thyself especially
set apart by Providence for this work.”
“I feel that within me, holy prelate, that encourageth
such a hope; but I build nought on mysteries that exceed
my comprehension.”
It would be difficult to say whether Columbus lost or
gained in the opinions of his auditors, by this answer. The
religious feeling of the age was in perfect consonance with
the sentiment; but to the churchmen present it seemed arrogant
in a humble and unknown layman, even to believe
it possible that he could be the chosen vessel, when so many
who appeared to have higher claims were rejected. Still,
no expression of this feeling was permitted, for it was then
as it is now, he who seemed to rely on the power of God
carrying with him a weight and an influence that ordinarily
checked rebukes.
“You propose to endeavour to reach Cathay, by means
of sailing forth into the broad Atlantic,” resumed the archbishop,
“and yet you deny the existence of Prestor John!”
“Your pardon, holy prelate — I do propose to reach Cathay
and Cipango in the mode you mention, but I do not
absolutely deny the existence of the monarch you have
named. For the probability of the success of my enterprise,
I have already produced my proofs and reasons,
which have satisfied many learned churchmen; but evidence
is wanting to establish the last.”
“And yet Giovanni di Montecorvino, a pious bishop of
our holy church, is said to have converted such a prince to
the true faith, nearly two centuries since.”
“The power of God can do any thing, Lord Archbishop,
and I am not one to question the merits of his chosen
ministers. All I can answer to this point, is, to say that I
find no scientific or plausible reasons to justify me in pursuing
what may prove to be as deceptive as the light which
recedes before the hand that would touch it. As for Cathay
and its position and its wonders, we have the better established
evidence of the renowned Venetians, Marco and
Nicolo Polo, who not only travelled in those territories, but
sojourned years at the court of their monarch. But, noble
gentlemen, whether there is a Prestor John, or a Cathay,
there is certainly a limit to the western side of the Atlantic,
and that limit I am ready to seek.”
The archbishop betrayed his incredulity, in the upward
turn of his eyes; but having his commands from those
who were accustomed to be obeyed, and knowing that
the theory of Columbus had been gravely heard and reported
on, years before, at Salamanca, he determined prudently
to keep within his proper sphere, and to proceed at
once to that into which it was his duty to inquire.
“You have set forth the advantages that you think may
be derived to the sovereigns, should your project succeed,
Señor,” he said, “and truly they are not light, if all your
brilliant hopes may be realized; but it now remaineth to
know what conditions you reserve for yourself, as the reward
of all your risks and many years of anxious labour.”
“All that hath been duly considered, illustrious archbishop,
and you will find the substance of my wishes set
forth in this paper, though many of the smaller provisions
will remain to be enumerated.”
As Columbus spoke, he handed the paper in question to
hastily at first, but a second time with more deliberation,
and it would be difficult to say whether ridicule, or indignation,
was most strongly expressed in his countenance, as
he deridingly threw the document on a table. When this
act of contempt was performed, he turned towards Columbus,
as if to satisfy himself that the navigator was not mad.
“Art thou serious in demanding these terms, Señor?” he
asked sternly, and with a look that would have caused
most men, in the humble station of the applicant, to swerve
from their purpose.
“Lord Archbishop,” answered Columbus, with a dignity
that was not easily disturbed, “this matter hath now occupied
my mind quite eighteen years. During the whole of
this long period I have thought seriously of little else, and
it may be said to have engaged my mind sleeping and
waking. I saw the truth early and intensely, but every
day seems to bring it brighter and brighter before my eyes.
I feel a reliance on success, that cometh from dependence
on God. I think myself an agent chosen for the accomplishment
of great ends, and ends that will not be decided
by the success of this one enterprise. There is more beyond,
and I must retain the dignity and the means necessary
to accomplish it. I cannot abate, in the smallest
degree, the nature or the amount of these conditions.”
Although the manner in which these words were uttered
lent them weight, the prelate fancied that the mind of the
navigator had got to be unsettled by his long contemplation
of a single subject. The only things that left any doubt
concerning the accuracy of this opinion, were the method
and science with which he had often maintained, even in
his own presence, the reasonableness of his geographical
suppositions; arguments which, though they had failed to
convince one bent on believing the projector a visionary,
had nevertheless greatly puzzled the listener. Still, the demands
he had just read, seemed so extravagant, that, for a
single instant, a sentiment of pity repressed the burst of
indignation to which he felt disposed to give vent.
“How like ye, noble lords,” he cried, sarcastically, turning
to two or three of his fellow-commissioners who had
eagerly seized the paper and were endeavouring to read it,
of the Señor Christoval Colon, the celebrated navigator
who confounded the Council of Salamanca! Are
they not such as it becometh their Highnesses to accept on
bended knees, and with many thanks?”
“Read them, Lord Archbishop,” exclaimed several in a
breath; “let us first know their nature.”
“There are many minor conditions that might be granted
as unworthy of discussion,” resumed the prelate, taking the
paper; “but here are two that must give the sovereigns
infinite satisfaction. The Señor Colon actually satisfieth
himself with the rank of Admiral and Viceroy over all the
countries he may discover; and as for gains, one-tenth—
the church's share, my reverend brethren — yea, even one-tenth,
one humble tenth of the proceeds and customs will
content him!”
The general murmur that passed among the commissioners,
denoted a common dissatisfaction, and at that instant
Columbus had not a true supporter in the room.
“Nor is this all, illustrious nobles, and holy priests,”
continued the archbishop, following up his advantage as
soon as he believed his auditors ready to hear him — “nor
is this all; lest these high dignities should weary their
Highnesses' shoulders, and those of their royal progeny,
the liberal Genoese actually consenteth to transmit them to
his own posterity, in all time to come; converting the kingdom
of Cathay into a realm for the uses of the house of
Colon, to maintain the dignity of which, the tenth of all the
benefits are to be consigned to its especial care!”
There would have been an open laugh at this sally, had
not the noble bearing of Columbus checked its indulgence;
and even Ferdinand of Talavera, under the stern rebuke
of an eye and mien that carried with them a grave authority,
began to think he had gone too far.
“Your pardon, Señor Colon,” he immediately and more
courteously added; “but your conditions sounded so lofty
that they have quite taken me by surprise. You cannot
seriously mean to maintain them?”
“Not one jot will I abate, Lord Priest: that much will
be my due, and he that consenteth to less than he deserveth,
becometh an instrument of his own humiliation. I shall
value all their other possessions, and I claim my reward. I
tell you, moreover, reverend prelate, that there is much in
reserve, and that these conditions will be needed to fulfil
the future.”
“These are truly modest proposals for a nameless Genoese!”
exclaimed one of the courtiers, who had been gradually
swelling with disgust and contempt. “The Señor
Colon will be certain of commanding in the service of their
Highnesses, and if nothing is done he will have that high
honour without cost; whereas, should this most improbable
scheme lead to any benefits, he will become a vice-king,
humbly contenting himself with the church's revenue!”
This remark appeared to determine the wavering, and
the commissioners rose, in a body, as if the matter were
thought to be unworthy of further discussion. With the
view to preserve at least the appearance of impartiality and
discretion, however, the archbishop turned once more toward
Columbus, and now, certain of obtaining his ends, he
spoke to him in milder tones.
“For the last time, Señor,” he said, “I ask if you still
insist on these unheard-of terms?”
“On them and on no other,” said Columbus, firmly. “I
know the magnitude of the services I shall perform, and
will not degrade them, will in no manner lessen their dignity,
by accepting aught else. But, Lord Archbishop, and
you, too, noble Señor, that treateth my claims so lightly, I
am ready to add to the risk of person, life and name, that
of gold. I will furnish one-eighth of the needful sums, if
ye will increase my benefits in that proportion.”
“Enough — enough,” returned the prelate, preparing to
quit the room; “we will make our report to the sovereigns,
this instant, and thou shalt speedily know their pleasure.”
Thus terminated the conference. The courtiers left the
room, conversing earnestly among themselves, like men
who did not care to repress their indignation; while Columbus,
filled with the noble character of his own designs,
disappeared in another direction, with the bearing of one
whose self-respect was not to be lessened by clamour, and
who appreciated ignorance and narrowness of views too
justly to suffer them to change his own high purposes.
Ferdinand of Talavera was as good as his word. He
was the queen's confessor, and, in virtue of that holy office,
had at all times access to her presence. Full of the subject
of the late interview, he took his way directly to the private
apartments of the queen, and, as a matter of course, was
at once admitted. Isabella heard his representations with
mortification and regret, for she had begun to set her heart
on the sailing of this extraordinary expedition. But the
influence of the archbishop was very great, for his royal
penitent knew the sincerity and devotedness of his heart.
“This carrieth presumption to insolence, Señora,” continued
the irritated churchman: “have we not here a mendicant
adventurer demanding honours and authority that
belong only to God and his anointed, the princes of the
earth? Who is this Colon? — a nameless Genoese, without
rank, services, or modesty, and yet doth he carry his pretensions
to a height that might cause even a Guzman to
hesitate.”
“He is a good Christian, holy prelate,” Isabella meekly
answered, “and seemeth to delight in the service and glory
of God, and to wish to favour the extension of his visible
and Catholic church.”
“True, Señora, and yet may there be deceit in this”—
“Nay, Lord Archbishop, I do not think that deceit is the
man's failing, for franker speech and more manly bearing
it is not usual to see, even in the most powerful. He hath
solicited us for years, and yet no act of meanness may be
fairly laid to his charge.”
“I shall not judge the heart of this man harshly, Doña
Isabella, but we may judge of his actions and his pretensions,
and how far they may be suitable to the dignity of
the two crowns, freely and without censure. I confess him
grave, and plausible, and light of neither discourse nor
manner, virtues certainly as the world moveth in courts”
—Isabella smiled, but she said nothing, for her ghostly
counsellor was wont to rebuke with freedom, and she to
listen with humility—“where the age is not exhibiting its
purest models of sobriety of thought and devotion, but even
these may exist without the spirit that shall be fitted for
heaven. But what are gravity and decorum, if sustained
by an inflated pride, and inordinate rapacity? ambition
on the full nature of these demands. This Colon requireth to
be established, for ever, in the high state of a substitute for
a king, not only for his own person, but for those of his
descendants throughout all time, with the title and authority
of Admiral over all adjacent seas, should he discover any
of the lands he so much exalts, before he will consent to
enter into the command of certain of Your Highnesses' vessels,
a station of itself only too honourable for one of so
little note! Should his most extravagant pretensions be
realized — and the probabilities are that they will entirely
fail — his demands would exceed his services; whereas, in
the case of failure, the Castilian and Aragonese names
would be covered with ridicule, and a sore disrespect would
befal the royal dignity for having been thus duped by an
adventurer. Much of the glory of this late conquest would
be tarnished, by a mistake so unfortunate.”
“Daughter-Marchioness,” observed the queen, turning
towards the faithful and long-tried friend who was occupied
with her needle near her own side — “these conditions of
Colon do, truly, seem to exceed the bounds of reason.”
“The enterprise also exceedeth all the usual bounds of
risks and adventures, Señora,” was the steady reply of
Doña Beatriz, as she glanced towards the countenance of
Mercedes. “Noble efforts deserve noble rewards.”
The eye of Isabella followed the glance of her friend,
and it remained fixed for some time on the pale anxious
features of her favourite's ward. The beautiful girl herself
was unconscious of the attention she excited; but one
who knew her secret might easily detect the intense feeling
with which she awaited the issue. The opinions of her
confessor had seemed so reasonable, that Isabella was on
the point of assenting to the report of the commissioners,
and of abandoning altogether the secret hopes and expectations
she had begun to couple with the success of the navigator's
schemes, when a gentler feeling, one that belonged
peculiarly to her own feminine heart, interposed to give the
mariner another chance. It is seldom that woman is dead
to the sympathies connected with the affections, and the
wishes that sprang from the love of Mercedes de Valverde
Castile came to at that critical moment.
“We must be neither harsh nor hasty with this Genoese,
Lord Archbishop,” she said, turning again to the prelate.
“He hath the virtues of devoutness and fair-dealing, and
these are qualities that sovereigns learn to prize. His demands
no doubt have become somewhat exaggerated by
long brooding, in his thoughts, on a favourite and great
scheme; but kind words and reason may yet lead him to
more moderation. Let him, then, be tried with propositions
of our own, and doubtless his necessities, if not a sense of
justice, will cause him to accept them. The viceroyalty
doth, indeed, exceed the usual policy of princes, and, as
you say, holy prelate, the tenth is the church's share; but
the admiral's rank may be fairly claimed. Meet him, then,
with these moderated proposals, and substitute a fifteenth
for a tenth; let him be a viceroy in his own person,
during the pleasure of Don Fernando and myself, but let
him relinquish the claim for his posterity.”
Fernando de Talavera thought even these concessions
too considerable, but, while he exercised his sacred office
with a high authority he too well knew the character of
Isabella to presume to dispute an order she had once issued,
although it was in her own mild and feminine manner.
After receiving a few more instructions, therefore, and obtaining
the counsel of the king, who was at work in an
adjoining cabinet, the prelate went to execute this new commission.
Two or three days now passed before the subject was
finally disposed of, and Isabella was again seated in the
domestic circle, when admission was once more demanded
in behalf of her confessor. The archbishop entered with
a flushed face, and his whole appearance was so disturbed
that it must have been observed by the most indifferent
person.
“How now, holy archbishop,”— demanded Isabella —
“doth thy new flock vex thy spirit, and is it so very hard
to deal with an infidel?”
“'T is nought of that, Señora — 't is nought relating to
my new people. I find even the followers of the false prophet
more reasonable than some who exult in Christ's name
become a saint in Mussulmans' eyes, than even a pilot in
Your Highness's service.”
At this burst of indignation, the queen, the Marchioness
of Moya, and Doña Mercedes de Valverde, simultaneously
dropped their needle-work, and sate looking at the prelate,
with a common concern. They had all hoped that the difficulties
which stood in the way of a favourable termination
to the negotiation would be removed, and that the time was
at hand, when the being who, in spite of the boldness and
unusual character of his projects, had succeeded in so signally
commanding their respect, and in interesting their
feelings, was about to depart, and to furnish a practical solution
to problems that had as much puzzled their reasons
as they had excited their curiosity. But here was something
like a sudden and unlooked for termination to all their
expectations; and while Mercedes felt something like despair
chilling her heart, the queen and Doña Beatriz were
both displeased.
“Didst thou duly explain to the Señor Colon, the nature
of our proposals, Lord Archbishop?” the former asked,
with more severity of manner than she was accustomed to
betray; “and doth he still insist on the pretensions to a
vice-regal power, and on the offensive condition in behalf
of his posterity?”
“Even so, Your Highness; were it Isabella of Castile
treating with Henry of England or Louis of France,
the starving Genoese could not hold higher terms or more
inflexible conditions. He abateth nothing. The man
deemeth himself chosen of God, to answer certain ends,
and his language and conditions are such as one who felt a
holy impulse to his course, could scarcely feel warranted in
assuming.”
“This constancy hath its merit,” observed the queen;
“but there is a limit to concession. I shall urge no more
in the navigator's favour, but leave him to the fortune that
naturally followeth self-exaltation and all extravagance of
demand.”
This speech apparently sealed the fate of Columbus in
Castile. The archbishop was appeased, and, first holding
a short private conference with his royal penitent, he
was called by the Spaniards—Columbus, as he styled himself
in later life — received, for a definite answer, the information
that his conditions were rejected, and that the
negotiation for the projected voyage to the Indies was
finally at an end.
| CHAPTER VII. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay | |