 | CHAPTER XII. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay |  |
12. CHAPTER XII.
A dark delight, and every wild a home,
Still urges onward — undismayed to tread
Where life's fond lovers would recoil with dread.”
The Abencerrage.
The intelligence that Martin Alonzo Pinzon was to make
one of the followers of Colon, spread through the village of
Palos like wild-fire. Volunteers were no longer wanting;
the example of one known and respected in the vicinity,
operating far more efficiently on the minds of the mariners,
Martin Alonzo they knew; they were accustomed to
submit to his influence; they could follow in his footsteps,
and had confidence in his judgment; whereas the naked
orders of an unseen sovereign, however much beloved, had
more of the character of a severe judgment than of a generous
enterprise; and, as for Columbus, though most men
were awed by his dignified appearance and grave manner,
when out of sight, he was as much regarded as an adventurer
at Palos, as he had been at Santa Fé.
The Pinzons set about their share of the expedition after
the manner of those who were more accustomed to execute,
than to plan. Several of the family entered cordially into
the work; and a brother of Martin Alonzo's, whose name
was Vicente Yañez, also a mariner by profession, joined the
adventurers as commander of one of the vessels, while another
took service as a pilot. In short, the month that succeeded
the incidents just mentioned, was actively employed,
and more was done, in that short space of time, towards
bringing about a solution of the great problem of Columbus,
than had been accomplished, in a practical way, during the
seventeen long years that the subject had occupied his time,
and engrossed his thoughts.
Notwithstanding the local influence of the Pinzons, a
vigorous opposition to the project, still existed in the heart
of the little community that had been chosen for the place
of equipment of the different vessels required. This family
had its enemies, as well as its friends, and, as is usual with
most human undertakings, two parties sprang up, one of
which was quite as busily occupied in thwarting the plans
of the navigator, as the other was engaged in promoting
them. One vessel had been seized for the service, under
the order of the court, and her owners became leaders of
the dissatisfied faction. Many seamen, according to the
usage of that day, had been impressed for duty on this extraordinary
and mysterious voyage; and, as a matter of
course, they and their friends were not slow to join the
ranks of the disaffected. Much of the necessary work was
found to be imperfectly done; and when the mechanics were
called on to repair these omissions, they absconded in a
body. As the time for sailing approached, the contention
mortification of discovering that many of those who had
volunteered to follow their fortunes, began to waver, and
that some had unequivocally deserted.
Such was the state of things, towards the close of the
month of July, when Martin Alonzo Pinzon again repaired
to the convent of Santa Maria de Rabida, where Columbus
continued to pass most of the time that was not given to a
direct personal superintendence of the preparations, and
where Luis de Bobadilla, who was altogether useless in the
actual condition of affairs, also passed many a weary hour,
chafing for active duty, and musing on the loveliness, truth
and virtues of Mercedes de Valverde. Fray Juan Perez
was earnest in his endeavours to facilitate the execution of
the objects of his friends, and he had actually succeeded,
if not in absolutely suppressing the expression of all injurious
opinions on the part of the less enlightened of the brotherhood,
at least in rendering the promulgation of them
more cautious and private.
When Columbus and the prior were told that the Señor
Pinzon sought an interview, neither was slow in granting
the favour. As the hour of departure drew nigh, the importance
of this man's exertions became more and more
apparent, and both well knew that the royal protection of
Isabella herself, just at that moment and in that place, was
of less account than that of this active mariner. The
Señor Pinzon, therefore, had not long to wait for his audience,
having been ushered into the room that was commonly
occupied by the zealous Franciscan, almost as soon as
his request was preferred.
“Thou art right welcome, worthy Martin Alonzo!” exclaimed
the prior, the moment he caught a glimpse of the
features of his old acquaintance—“How get on matters at
Palos, and when shall we have this holy undertaking in a
fair direction for success?”
“By San Francisco, reverend prior, that is more than it
will be safe for any man to answer. I have thought we
were in a fair way to make sail, a score of times, when
some unforeseen difficulty hath arisen. The Santa Maria,
on board which the admiral and the Señor Gutierrez, or de
Muños, if he will have it so, will embark, is already fitted.
a hundred tons in burthen, so that I trust his excellency,
and all the gallant cavaliers who may accompany
him, will be as comfortable as the holy monks of Rabida,—more
especially as the good caravel hath a deck.”
“These are, truly, glad tidings,” returned the prior, rubbing
his hands with delight—“and the excellent craft hath
really a deck! Señor Almirante, thou may'st not be in a
vessel that is altogether worthy of thy high aim, but, on
the whole, thou wilt be both safe and comfortable, keeping
in view, in particular, this convenient and sheltering deck.”
“Neither my safety nor my convenience is a consideration
to be mentioned, friend Juan Perez, when there is
question of so much graver matters. I rejoice that
thou hast come to the convent this morning, Señor Martin
Alonzo, as being about to address letters to the court, by
means of an especial courier, I desire to know the actual
condition of things. Thou thinkest the Santa Maria will
be in a state for service by the end of the month?”
“Señor, I do. The ship hath been prepared with due
diligence, and will conveniently hold some three score,
should the panic that hath seized on so many of the besotted
fools of Palos, leave us that number, who may still be
disposed to embark. I trust that the saints look upon our
many efforts, and will remember our zeal when we shall
come to a joint division of the benefits of this undertaking,
which hath had no equal in the history of navigation!”
“The benefits, honest Martin Alonzo, will be found in
the spread of the church's dominion, and the increased
glory of God!” put in the prior, significantly.
“Out of all question, holy Fray Juan Perez—this is the
common aim; though I trust it is permitted to a painstaking
mariner to bethink him of his wife and children, in
discreet subordination to those greater ends. I have much
mistaken the Señor Colon, if he do not look for some little
advantage, in the way of gold, from this visit to Cathay.”
“Thou hast not mistaken me, honest Martin Alonzo,”
returned Columbus, gravely. “I do, indeed, expect to see
the wealth of the Indies pouring into the coffers of Castile,
in consequence of this voyage. In sooth, excellent prior,
in my view, the recovery of the holy sepulchre is dependent
way of a substantial worldly success.”
“This is well, Señor Admiral,” put in Martin Alonzo, a
little hastily, “and ought to gain us great favour in the eyes
of all good christians—more especially with the monks of
la Rabida. But it is hard enough to persuade the mariners
of the port to obey the queen, in this matter, and to fulfil
their engagements with ourselves, without preaching a crusade,
as the best means of throwing away the few maravedis
they may happen to gain by their hardships and courage.
The worthy pilots, Francisco Martin Pinzon, mine own brother,
Sancho Ruiz, Pedro Alonzo Niño, and Bartolemeo
Roldan, are all now firmly tied to us by the ropes of the
law; but should they happen to find a crusade at their end,
all the saints in the calendar would scarce have influence to
make them hesitate about loosening themselves from the
agreement.”
“I hold no one but myself bound to this object,” returned
Columbus, calmly. “Each man, friend Martin Alonzo,
will be judged by his own deeds, and called on to fulfil his
own vows. Of those who pledge nought, nought will be
exacted, and nought given at the great final account of the
human race. But what are the tidings of the Pinta, thine
own vessel? Hath she been finally put into a condition to
buffet the Atlantic?”
“As ever happeneth with a vessel pressed into the royal
service, Señor, work hath gone on heavily, and things in
general have not borne that merry activity which accompanieth
the labour of those who toil of a free will, and for
their own benefit.”
“The silly mariners have toiled in their own behalf,
without knowing it,” observed Columbus. “It is the duty
of the ignorant to submit to be led by the more enlightened,
and to be grateful for the advantages they derive from a
borrowed knowledge, albeit it is obtained contrary to their
own wishes.”
“That is it, truly,” added the prior; “else would the
office of us churchmen be reduced to very narrow limits.
Faith—faith in the church—is the Christian's earliest and
latest duty.”
“This seemeth reasonable, excellent sirs,” returned
comprehend matters that they do not understand. When
a man fancieth himself condemned to an unheard-of death,
he is little apt to see the benefit that lieth beyond the grave.
Nevertheless, the Pinta is more nearly ready for the voyage,
than any other of our craft, and hath her crew engaged
to a man, and that under contracts that will not
permit much dispute before a notary.”
“There remaineth only the Niña, then,” added Columbus;
“with her prepared, and our religious duties observed,
we may hope finally to commence the enterprise!”
“Señor, you may. My brother, Vicente Yañez, hath
finally consented to take charge of this little craft; and
that which a Pinzon promiseth, a Pinzon performeth. She
will be ready to depart with the Santa Maria and the Pinta,
and Cathay must be distant, indeed, if we do not reach it
with one or the other of our vessels.”
“This is right encouraging, neighbour Martin Alonzo,”
returned the friar, rubbing his hands with delight, “and I
make no question all will come round in the end. What
say the crones and loose talkers of Moguer, and of the
other ports, touching the shape of the earth, and the chances
of the admiral's reaching the Indies, now-a-days?”
“They discourse much as they did, Fray Juan Perez,
idly and without knowledge. Although there is not a
mariner in any of the havens who doth not admit that the
upper sails, though so much the smallest, are the first seen
on the ocean, yet do they deny that this cometh of the
shape of the earth, but, as they affirm, of the movements
of the waters.”
“Have none of them ever observed the shadows cast by
the earth, in the eclipses of the moon?” asked Columbus,
in his calm manner, though he smiled, even in putting the
question, as one smiles who, having dipped deeply into a
natural problem himself, carelessly lays one of its more
popular proofs before those who are less disposed to go beneath
the surface. “Do they not see that these shadows
are round, and do they not know that a shadow which is
round can only be cast by a body that is round?”
“This is conclusive, good Martin Alonzo,” put in the
prior, “and it ought to remove the doubts of the silliest
beginning to the right, and see if, by following the walls,
they do not return to the spot from which they started,
coming in from the left.”
“Ay, reverend prior, if we could bring our distant voyage
down to these familiar examples, there is not a crone
in Moguer, or a courtier at Seville, that might not be made
to comprehend the mystery. But it is one thing to state a
problem fairly, and another to find those who can understand
it. Now, I did give some such reasoning to the
Alguiazil, in Palos here, and the worthy Señor asked me if
I expected to return from this voyage by the way of the
lately captured town of Granada. I fancy that the easiest
method of persuading these good people to believe that
Cathay can be reached by the western voyage, will be by
going there and returning.”
“Which we will shortly do, Master Martin Alonzo,” observed
Columbus, cheerfully —“But the time of our departure
draweth near, and it is meet that none of us neglect
the duties of religion. I commend thee to thy confessor,
Señor Pinzon, and expect that all who sail with me, in this
great enterprise, will receive the holy communion in my
company, before we quit the haven. This excellent prior
will shrive Pedro de Muños and myself, and let each man
seek such other holy counsellor and monitor as hath been
his practice.”
With this intimation of his intention to pay a due regard
to the rites of the church before he departed—rites that
were seldom neglected in that day—the conversation turned,
for the moment, on the details of the preparations. After
this the parties separated, and a few more days passed
away in active exertions.
On the morning of Thursday, August the second, 1492,
Columbus entered the private apartment of Fray Juan Perez,
habited like a penitent, and with an air so devout, and yet
so calm, that it was evident his thoughts were altogether
bent on his own transgressions and on the goodness of God.
The zealous priest was in waiting, and the great navigator
knelt at the feet of him, before whom Isabella had often
knelt, in the fulfilment of the same solemnity. The religion
of this extraordinary man was coloured by the habits
must be the religion of every man; his confession,
consequently, had that admixture of deep piety with inconsistent
error, that so often meets the moralist in his investigations
into the philosophy of the human mind. The truth
of this peculiarity will be seen, by adverting to one or two
of the admissions of the great navigator, as he laid before
his ghostly counsellor the catalogue of his sins.
“Then, I fear, holy father,” Columbus continued, after
having made most of the usual confessions touching the
more familiar weaknesses of the human race, “that my
mind hath become too much exalted in this matter of the
voyage, and that I may have thought myself more directly
set apart by God, for some good end, than it might please
his infinite knowledge and wisdom to grant.”
“That would be a dangerous error, my son, and I carefully
admonish thee against the evils of self-righteousness.
That God selecteth his agents, is beyond dispute; but it is
a fearful error to mistake the impulses of self-love, for the
movements of his Divine Spirit! It is hardly safe for any
who have not received the church's ordination, to deem
themselves chosen vessels.”
“I endeavour so to consider it, holy friar,” answered
Columbus, meekly; “and, yet, there is that within, which
constantly urgeth to this belief, be it a delusion, or come it
directly from heaven. I strive, father, to keep the feeling
in subjection, and most of all do I endeavour to see that it
taketh a direction that may glorify the name of God and
serve the interests of his visible church.”
“This is well, and yet do I feel it a duty to admonish
thee against too much credence in these inward impulses.
So long as they tend, solely, to increase thy love for the
Supreme Father of all, to magnify his holiness and glorify
his nature, thou mayest be certain it is the offspring of
good; but when self-exaltation seemeth to be its aim, beware
the impulse, as thou would eschew the dictation of
the great father of evil.”
“I so consider it; and now having truly and sincerely
disburthened my conscience, father, so far as in me lieth,
may I hope for the church's consolation, with its absolution?”
“Canst thou think of nought else, son, that should not
lie hid from before the keeper of all consciences?”
“My sins are many, holy prior, and cannot be too often
or too keenly rebuked; but I do think that they may be
fairly included in the general heads that I have endeavoured
to recal.”
“Hast thou nothing to charge thyself with, in connection
with that sex that the devil as often useth as his tempters
to evil, as the angels would fain employ them as the ministers
of grace?”
“I have erred as a man, father; but do not my confessions
already meet those sins?”
“Hast thou bethought thee of Doña Beatriz Enriquez?
of thy son Fernando, who tarrieth, at this moment, in our
convent of La Rabida?”
Columbus bowed his head in submission, and the heavy
sigh, amounting almost to a groan, that broke out of his
bosom, betrayed the weight of his momentary contrition.
“Thou sayest true, father; that is an offence which
should never be forgotten, though so often shrived since its
commission. Heap on me the penance that I feel is due,
and thou shalt see how a Christian can bend and kiss the
rod that he is conscious of having merited.”
“The spirit thus to do, is all that the church requireth;
and thou art now bent on a service too important to her interests,
to be drawn aside from thy great intentions, for any
minor considerations. Still may not a minister of th altar
overlook the offence. Thou wilt say a pater, daily, on account
of this great sin, for the next twenty days, all of
which will be for the good of thy soul; after which the
church releaseth thee from this especial duty, as thou wilt,
then, be drawing near to the land of Cathay, and may have
occasion for all thy thoughts and efforts to effect thy
object.”
The worthy prior then proceeded to prescribe several
light penances, most of which were confined to moderate
increases of the daily duties of religion; after which he
shrived the navigator. The turn of Luis came next, and
more than once the prior smiled involuntarily, as he listened
to this hot-blooded and impetuous youth, whose language
irresistibly carried back his thoughts to the more
pure-minded Mercedes. The penance prescribed to Luis
was not entirely free from severity, though, on the whole,
the young man, who was not much addicted to the duties
of the confessional, fancied himself well quit of the affair,
considering the length of the account he was obliged to
render, and the weight of the balance against him.
These duties performed in the persons of the two principal
adventurers, Martin Alonzo Pinzon, and the ruder
mariners of the expedition, appeared before different priests
and gave in the usual reckoning of their sins. After this,
came a scene that was strictly characteristic of the age,
and which would be impressive and proper, in all times and
seasons, for men about to embark in an undertaking of a
result so questionable.
High mass was said in the chapel of the convent, and
Columbus received the consecrated bread from the hands
of Fray Juan Perez, in humble reliance on the all-seeing
providence of God, and with a devout dependence on his
fostering protection. All who were about to embark with
the admiral imitated his example, communing in his company;
for that was a period when the wire-drawn conclusions
of man had not yet begun so far to supplant the faith
and practices of the earlier church as to consider its rites
as the end of religion, but he was still content to regard
them as its means. Many a rude sailor, whose ordinary
life might not have been either saintly or even free from
severe censure, knelt that day at the altar, in devout dependence
on God, with feelings, for the moment, that at
least placed him on the high-way to grace; and it would be
presumptuous to suppose that the omniscient Being to whom
his offerings were made, did not regard his ignorance with
commiseration and even look upon his superstition with
pity. We scoff at the prayers of those who are in danger,
without reflecting that they are a homage to the power of
God, and are apt to fancy that these passages in devotion
are mere mockery, because the daily mind and the ordinary
life are not always elevated to the same standard
of godliness and purity. It would be more humble to
remember the general infirmities of the race; to recollect,
that as none are perfect, the question is reduced
reads the heart, may accept of any devout petitions, even
though they come from those who are not disposed habitually
to walk in his laws. These passing but pious emotions
are the workings of the Spirit, since good can come
from no other source; and it is as unreasonable as it is irreverent
to imagine that the Deity will disregard, altogether,
the effects of his own grace, however humble.
Whatever may have been the general disposition of most
of the communicants on this occasion, there is little doubt
that there knelt at the altar of La Rabida, that day, one in
the person of the great navigator himself, who, as far as
the eye could perceive, lived habitually in profound deference
to the dogmas of religion, and who paid an undeviating
respect to all its rites. Columbus was not strictly a
devotee; but a quiet, deeply seated enthusiasm, which had
taken the direction of Christianity, pervaded his moral system,
and at all times disposed him to look up to the protecting
hand of the Deity and to expect its aid. The high
aims that he entertained for the future have already been
mentioned, and there is little doubt of his having persuaded
himself that he had been set apart by Providence as the instrument
it designed to employ in making the great discovery
on which his mind was so intently engaged, as well
as in accomplishing other and ulterior purposes. If, indeed,
an overruling Power directs all the events of this world,
who will presume to say that this conviction of Columbus
was erroneous, now that it has been justified by the result?
That he felt this sentiment, sustaining his courage and
constantly urging him onward, is so much additional evidence
in favour of his impression, since, under such circumstances,
nothing is more probable than that an earnest
belief in his destiny would be one of the means most likely
to be employed by a supernatural power in inducing its
human agent to accomplish the work for which he had
actually been selected.
Let this be as it might, there is no doubt that Colon observed
the rites of the church, on the occasion named, with
a most devout reliance on the truth of his mission, and
with the brightest hopes as to its successful termination.
Not so, however, with all of his intended followers. Their
advanced; and the last month had seen them eager to depart,
and dejected with misgivings and doubts. Although
there were days of hope and brightness, despondency
perhaps prevailed, and this so much the more because the
apprehensions of mothers, wives, and of those who felt an
equally tender interest in the mariners, though less inclined
to avow it openly, were thrown into the scale by the side
of their own distrust. Gold, unquestionably, was the great
aim of their wishes, and there were moments when visions
of inexhaustible mines and of oriental treasures floated before
their imaginations; at which times none could be more
eager to engage in the mysterious undertaking, or more
ready to risk their lives and hopes on its success. But
these were fleeting impressions, and, as has just been said,
despondency was the prevalent feeling among those who
were about to embark. It heightened the devotion of the
communicants, and threw a gloom over the chastened sobriety
of the altar, that weighed heavily on the hearts of
most assembled there.
“Our people seem none of the most cheerful, Señor Almirante,”
said Luis, as they left the convent-chapel in company,
“and, if truth must be spoken, one could wish to set
forth on an expedition of this magnitude, better sustained
by merry hearts and smiling countenances.”
“Dost thou imagine, young count, that he hath the firmest
mind, who weareth the most smiling visage, or that the
heart is weak because the countenance is sobered? These
honest mariners bethink them of their sins, and no doubt
are desirous that so holy an enterprise be not tainted by the
corruption of their own hearts, but rather purified and rendered
fitting, by their longings to obey the will of God. I
trust Luis”—intercourse had given Columbus a sort of
paternal interest in the welfare of the young grandee, that
lessened the distance made by rank between them — “I
trust, Luis, thou art not, altogether, without these pious
longings in thine own person.”
“By San Pedro, my new patron! Señor Almirante, I
think more of Mercedes de Valverde, than of aught else, in
this great affair. She is my polar star, my religion, my
Cathay. Go on, in Heaven's name, and discover what thou
great Khan on his throne, and I will follow in thy train,
with a poor lance and an indifferent sword, swearing that
the maid of Castile hath no equal, and ransacking the east,
merely to prove in the face of the universe, that she is peerless,
let her rivals come from what part of the earth they
may.”
Although Columbus permitted his grave countenance
slightly to relax at this rhapsody, he did not the less deem
it prudent to rebuke the spirit in which it was uttered.
“I grieve, my young friend,” he said, “to find that thou
hast not the feelings proper for one who is engaged, as it
might be, in a work of Heaven's own ordering. Canst thou
not foresee the long train of mighty and wonderful events
that are likely to follow from this voyage—the spread of
religion, through the holy church; the conquest of distant
empires, with their submission to the sway of Castile; the
settling of disputed points in science and philosophy, and
the attainment of inexhaustible wealth; with the last and
most honourable consequence of all, the recovery of the
sepulchre of the Son of God, from the hands of the Infidels!”
“No doubt, Señor Colon — no doubt, I see them all, but
I see the Doñas Mercedes at their end. What care I for
gold, who already possess—or shall so soon possess—more
than I need;—what is the extension of the sway of Castile
to me, who can never be its king; and as for the Holy
Sepulchre, give me but Mercedes, and, like my ancestors
that are gone, I am ready to break a lance with the stoutest
Infidel who ever wore a turban, be it in that, or in any
other quarrel. In short, Señor Almirante, lead on; and
though we go forth with different objects and different hopes,
doubt not that they will lead us to the same goal. I feel that
you ought to be supported in this great and noble design,
and it matters not what may bring me in your train.”
“Thou art a mad-brained youth, Luis, and must be humoured,
if it were only for the sake of the sweet and pious
young maiden who seemeth to engross all thy thoughts.”
“You have seen her, Señor, and can say whether she be
not worthy to occupy the minds of all the youth of Spain?”
“She is fair, and virtuous, and noble, and a zealous
may'st be pardoned for thy enthusiasm in her behalf. But,
forget not, that, to win her, thou must first win a sight of
Cathay.”
“In the reality, you must mean, Señor Almirante; for,
with the mind's eye, I see it keenly, constantly, and see
little else, with Mercedes standing on its shores, smiling a
welcome, and, by St. Paul! sometimes backoning me on,
with that smile that fires the soul with its witchery, even
while it subdues the temper with its modesty. The blessed
Maria send us a wind, right speedily, that we may quit this
irksome river, and wearying convent!”
Columbus made no answer; for, while he had all consideration
for a lover's impatience, his thoughts turned to
subjects too grave, to be long amused even by a lover's
follies.
| CHAPTER XII. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay | |