Christopher Columbus and the New World - Book 8



BOOK 8

CHAPTER VI.
RELIEF OF THE ADMIRAL 

There was no further difficulty about provisions, which were punctually 
brought by the natives on the old terms; but the familiar, spirit of 
sedition began to work again among the unhappy Spaniards, and once more a 
mutiny, led this time by the apothecary Bernardo, took form--the intention 
being to seize the remaining canoes and attempt to reach Espanola. This 
was the point at which matters had arrived, in March 1504, when as the 
twilight was falling one evening a cry was raised that there was a ship in 
sight; and presently a small caravel was seen standing in towards the 
shore. All ideas of mutiny were forgotten, and the crew assembled in 
joyful anticipation to await, as they thought, the coming of their 
deliverers. The caravel came on with the evening breeze; but while it was 
yet a long way off the shore it was seen to be lying to; a boat was 
lowered and rowed towards the harbour. 

As the boat drew near Columbus could recognise in it Diego de Escobar, 
whom he remembered having condemned to death for his share in the 
rebellion of Roldan. He was not the man whom Columbus would have most 
wished to see at that moment. The boat came alongside the hulks, and a 
barrel of wine and a side of bacon, the sea-compliment customary on such 
occasions, was handed up. Greatly to the Admiral's surprise, however, 
Escobar did not come on board, but pushed his boat off and began to speak 
to Columbus from a little distance. He told him that Ovando was greatly 
distressed at the Admiral's misfortunes; that he had been much occupied by 
wars in Espanola, and had not been able to send a message to him before; 
that he greatly regretted he had no ship at present large enough to bring 
off the Admiral and his people, but that he would send one as soon as he 
had it. In the meantime the Admiral was to be assured that all his affairs 
in Espanola were being attended to faithfully, and that Escobar was 
instructed to bring back at once any letters which the Admiral might wish 
to write. 

The coolness and unexpectedness of this message completely took away the 
breath of the unhappy Spaniards, who doubtless stood looking in 
bewilderment from Escobar to Columbus, unable to believe that the caravel 
had not been sent for their relief. Columbus, however, with a self- 
restraint which cannot be too highly praised, realised that Escobar meant 
what he said, and that by protesting against his action or trying to 
interfere with it he would only be putting himself in the wrong. He 
therefore retired immediately to his cabin and wrote a letter to Ovando, 
in which he drew a vivid picture of the distress of his people, reported 
the rebellion of the Porras brothers, and reminded Ovando that he relied 
upon the fulfilment of his promise to send relief. The letter was handed 
over to Escobar, who rowed back with it to his caravel and immediately 
sailed away with it into the night. 

Before he could retire to commune with his own thoughts or to talk with 
his faithful brother, Columbus had the painful duty of speaking to his 
peoplozled and disappointed faces must have cost him some extra pangs. He 
told them that he was quite satisfied with the message from Ovando, that 
it was a sign kindness on his part thus to send them news in advance that 
relief was coming, that their situation was now known in San Domingo, and 
that vessels would soon be here to take them away. He added that he 
himself was so sure of these things that he had refused to go back with 
Escobar, but had preferred to remain with them and share their lot until 
relief should come. This had the desired effect of cheering the Spaniards; 
but it was far from representing the real sentiments of Columbus on the 
subject. The fact that Escobar had been chosen to convey this strange 
empty message of sympathy seemed to him suspicious, and with his profound 
distrust of Ovando Columbus began to wonder whether some further scheme 
might not be on foot to damage him in the eyes of the Sovereigns. He was 
convinced that Ovando had meant to let him starve on the island, and that 
the real purpose of Escobar's visit had been to find out what condition 
the Admiral was in, so that Ovando might know how to act. It is very hard 
to get at the truth of what these two men thought of each other. They were 
both suspicious, each was playing for his own hand, and Ovando was only a 
little more unscrupulous than Columbus; but there can be no doubt that 
whatever his motives may have been Ovando acted with abominable treachery 
and cruelty in leaving the Admiral unrelieved for nearly nine months. 

Columbus now tried to make use of the visit of Escobar to restore to 
allegiance the band of rebels that were wandering about in the 
neighbourhood under the leadership of the Porras brothers. Why he should 
have wished to bring them back to the ships is not clear, for by all 
accounts he was very well rid of them; but probably his pride as a 
commander was hurt by the thought that half of his company had defied his 
authority and were in a state of mutiny. At any rate he sent out an 
ambassador to Porras, offering to receive the mutineers back without any 
punishment, and to give them a free passage to Espanola in the vessels 
which were shortly expected, if they would return to their allegiance with 
him. 

The folly of this overture was made manifest by the treatment which it 
received. It was bad enough to make advances to the Porras brothers, but 
it was still worse to have those advances repulsed, and that is what 
happened. The Porras brothers, being themselves incapable of any single- 
mindedness, affected not to believe in the sincerity of the Admiral's 
offer; they feared that he was laying some kind of trap for them; 
moreover, they were doing very well in their lawless way, and living very 
comfortably on the natives; so they told Columbus's ambassadors that his 
offer was declined. At the same time they undertook to conduct themselves 
in an amicable and orderly manner on condition that, when the vessels 
arrived, one of them should be apportioned to the exclusive use of the 
mutineers; and that in the meantime the Admiral should share with them his 
store of provisions and trinkets, as theirs were exhausted. 

This was the impertinent decision of the Porras brothers; but it did not 
quite commend itself to their followers, who were fearful of the possible 
results if they should persist in their mutinous conduct. They were very 
much afraid of being left behind in the island, and in any case, having 
attempted and failed in the main object of their mutiny, they saw no 
reason why they should refuse a free pardon. But the Porras brothers lied 
busily. They said that the Admiral was merely laying a trap in order to 
get them into his power, and that he would send them home to Spain in 
chains; and they even went so far as to assure their fellow- rebels that 
the story of a caravel having arrived was not really true; but that 
Columbus, who was an adept in the arts of necromancy, had really made his 
people believe that they had seen a caravel in the dusk; and that if one 
had really arrived it would not have gone away so suddenly, nor would the 
Admiral and his brother and son have failed to take their passage in it. 

To consolidate the effect of these remarkable statements on the still 
wavering mutineers, the Porras brothers decided to commit them to an open 
act of violence which would successfully alienate them from the Admiral. 
They formed them, therefore, into an armed expedition, with the idea of 
seizing the stores remaining on the wreck and taking the Admiral 
personally. Columbus fortunately got news of this, as he nearly always did 
when there was treachery in the wind; and he sent Bartholomew to try to 
persuade them once more to return to their duty--a vain and foolish 
mission, the vanity and folly of which were fully apparent to Bartholomew. 
He duly set out upon it; but instead of mild words he took with him fifty 
armed men--the whole available able-bodied force, in fact- and drew near 
to the position occupied by the rebels. 

The exhortation of the Porras brothers had meanwhile produced its effect, 
and it was decided that six of the strongest men among the mutineers 
should make for Bartholomew himself and try to capture or kill him. The 
fierce Adelantado, finding himself surrounded by six assailants, who 
seemed to be directing their whole effort against his life, swung his 
sword in a berserk rage and slashed about him, to such good purpose that 
four or five of his assailants soon lay round him killed or wounded. At 
this point Francisco de Porras rushed in and cleft the shield held by 
Bartholomew, severely wounding the hand that held it; but the sword. stuck 
in the shield, and while Porras was endeavouring to draw it out 
Bartholomew and some others closed upon him, and after a sharp struggle 
took him prisoner. The battle, which was a short one, had been meanwhile 
raging fiercely among the rest of the forces; but when the mutineers saw 
their leader taken prisoner, and many of their number lying dead or 
wounded, they scattered and fled, but not before Bartholomew's force had 
taken several prisoners. It was then found that, although the rebels had 
suffered heavily, none of Bartholomew's men were killed, and only one 
other besides himself was wounded. The next day the mutineers all came in 
to surrender, submitting an abject oath of allegiance; and Columbus, 
always strangely magnanimous to rebels and insurgents, pardoned them all 
with the exception of Francisco de Porras, who, one is glad to know, was 
confined in irons to be sent to Spain for trial. 

This submission, which was due to the prompt action of Bartholomew rather 
than to the somewhat feeble diplomacy of the Admiral, took place on March 
20th, and proved somewhat embarrassing to Columbus. He could put no faith 
in the oaths and protestations of the mutineers; and he was very doubtful 
about the wisdom of establishing them once more on the wrecks with the 
hitherto orderly remnant. He therefore divided them up into several bands, 
and placing each under the command of an officer whom he could trust, he 
supplied them with trinkets and despatched them to different parts of the 
island, for the purpose of collecting provisions and carrying on barter 
with the natives. By this means the last month or two of this most trying 
and exciting sojourn on the island of Jamaica were passed in some measure 
of peace; and towards the end of June it was brought to an end by the 
arrival of two caravels. One of them was the ship purchased by Diego 
Mendez out of the three which had arrived from Spain; and the other had 
been despatched by Ovando in deference, it is said, to public feeling in 
San Domingo, which had been so influenced by Mendez's account of the 
Admiral's heroic adventures that Ovando dared not neglect him any longer. 
Moreover, if it had ever been his hope that the Admiral would perish on 
the island of Jamaica, that hope was now doomed to frustration, and, as he 
was to be rescued in spite of all, Ovando no doubt thought that he might 
as well, for the sake of appearances, have a hand in the rescue. 

The two caravels, laden with what was worth saving from the two abandoned 
hulks, and carrying what was left of the Admiral's company, sailed from 
Jamaica on June 28, 1504. Columbus's joy, as we may imagine, was deep and 
heartfelt. He said afterwards to Mendez that it was the happiest day of 
his life, for that he had never hoped to leave the place alive. 

The mission of Mendez, then, had been successful, although he had had to 
wait for eight months to fulfil it. He himself, in accordance with 
Columbus's instructions, had gone to Spain in another caravel of the fleet 
out of which he had purchased the relieving ship; and as he passes out of 
our narrative we may now take our farewell of him. Among the many men 
employed in the Admiral's service no figure stands out so brightly as that 
of Diego Mendez; and his record, almost alone of those whose service of 
the Admiral earned them office and distinction, is unblotted by any stain 
of crime or treachery. He was as brave as a lion and as faithful as a dog, 
and throughout his life remained true to his ideal of service to the 
Admiral and his descendants. He was rewarded by King Ferdinand for his 
distinguished services, and allowed to bear a canoe on his coat- of-arms; 
he was with the Admiral at his death-bed at Valladolid, and when he 
himself came to die thirty years afterwards in the same place he made a 
will in which he incorporated a brief record of the events of the 
adventurous voyage in which he had borne the principal part, and also 
enshrined his devotion to the name and family of Columbus. His demands for 
himself were very modest, although there is reason to fear that they were 
never properly fulfilled. He was curiously anxious to be remembered 
chiefly by his plucky canoe voyage; and in giving directions for his tomb, 
and ordering that a stone should be placed over his remains, he wrote: "In 
the centre of the said stone let a canoe be carved, which is a piece of 
wood hollowed out in which the Indians navigate, because in such a boat I 
navigated three hundred leagues, and let some letters be placed above it 
saying: Canoa." The epitaph that he chose for himself was in the following 
sense: 

Here lies the Honourable Gentleman 

DIEGO MENDEZ 

He greatly served the royal crown of Spain in
the discovery and conquest of the Indies with
the Admiral Don Christopher Columbus of
glorious memory who discovered them, and
afterwards by himself, with his own ships,
at his own expense.
He died, etc.
He begs from charity a PATERNOSTER
and an AVE MARIA. 

Surely he deserves them, if ever an honourable gentleman did.



CHAPTER VII.
THE HERITAGE OF HATRED 

Although the journey from Jamaica to Espanola had been accomplished in 
four days by Mendez in his canoe, the caravels conveying the party rescued 
from Puerto Santa Gloria were seven weary weeks on this short voyage; a 
strong north-west wind combining with the west-going current to make their 
progress to the north-west impossible for weeks at a time. It was not 
until the 13th of August 1503 that they anchored in the harbour of San 
Domingo, and Columbus once more set foot, after an absence of more than 
two years, on the territory from the governorship of which he had been 
deposed. 

He was well enough received by Ovando, who came down in state to meet him, 
lodged him in his own house, and saw that he was treated with the 
distinction suitable to his high station. The Spanish colony, moreover, 
seemed to have made something of a hero of Columbus during his long 
absence, and they received him with enthusiasm. But his satisfaction in 
being in San Domingo ended with that. He was constantly made to feel that 
it was Ovando and not he who was the ruler there;--and Ovando emphasised 
the difference between them by numerous acts of highhanded authority, some 
of them of a kind calculated to be extremely mortifying to the Admiral. 
Among these things he insisted upon releasing Porras, whom Columbus had 
confined in chains; and he talked of punishing those faithful followers of 
Columbus who had taken part in the battle between Bartholomew and the 
rebels, because in this fight some of the followers of Porras had been 
killed. Acts like these produced weary bickerings and arguments between 
Ovando and Columbus, unprofitable to them, unprofitable to us. The Admiral 
seems now to have relapsed into a condition in which he cared only for two 
things, his honours and his emoluments. Over every authoritative act of 
Ovando's there was a weary squabble between him and the Admiral, Ovando 
claiming his right of jurisdiction over the whole territory of the New 
World, including Jamaica, and Columbus insisting that by his commission 
and letters of authority he had been placed in sole charge of the members 
of his own expedition. 

And then, as regards his emoluments, the Admiral considered himself (and 
not without justice) to have been treated most unfairly. By the 
extravagant terms of his original agreement he was, as we know, entitled 
to a share of all rents and dues, as well as of the gold collected; but it 
had been no one's business to collect these for him, and every one's 
business to neglect them. No one had cared; no one had kept any accounts 
of what was due to the Admiral; he could not find out what had been paid 
and what had not been paid. He accused Ovando of having impeded his agent 
Carvajal in his duty of collecting the Admiral's revenues, and of 
disobeying the express orders of Queen Isabella in that matter; and so on-
a state of affairs the most wearisome, sordid, and unprofitable in which 
any man could be involved. 

And if Columbus turned his eyes from the office in San Domingo inland to 
that Paradise which he had entered twelve years before, what change and 
ruin, dreary, horrible and complete, did he not discover! The birds still 
sang, and the nights were still like May in Cordova; but upon that happy 
harmony the sound of piteous cries and shrieks had long since broken, and 
along and black December night of misery had spread its pall over the 
island. Wherever he went, Columbus found the same evidence of ruin and 
desolation. Where once innumerable handsome natives had thronged the 
forests and the villages, there were now silence and smoking ruin, and the 
few natives that he met were emaciated, terrified, dying. Did he reflect, 
I wonder, that some part of the responsibility of all this horror rested 
on him? That many a system of island government, the machinery of which 
was now fed by a steady stream of human lives, had been set going by him 
in ignorance, or greed of quick commercial returns? It is probable that he 
did not; for he now permanently regarded himself as a much-injured man, 
and was far too much occupied with his own wrongs to realise that they 
were as nothing compared with the monstrous stream of wrong and suffering 
that he had unwittingly sent flowing into the world. 

In the island under Ovando's rule Columbus saw the logical results of his 
own original principles of government, which had recognised the right of 
the Christians to possess the persons and labours of the heathen natives. 
Las Casas, who was living in Espanola as a young priest at this time, and 
was destined by long residence there and in the West Indies to qualify 
himself as their first historian, saw what Columbus saw, and saw also the 
even worse things that happened in after years in Cuba and Jamaica; and it 
is to him that we owe our knowledge of the condition of island affairs at 
this time. The colonists whom Ovando had brought out had come very much in 
the spirit that in our own day characterised the rush to the north-western 
goldfields of America. They brought only the slightest equipment, and were 
no sooner landed at San Domingo than they set out into the island like so 
many picnic parties, being more careful to carry vessels in which to bring 
back the gold they were to find than proper provisions and equipment to 
support them in the labour of finding it. The roads, says Las Casas, 
swarmed like ant-hills with these adventurers rushing forth to the mines, 
which were about twenty-five miles distant from San Domingo; they were in 
the highest spirits, and they made it a kind of race as to who should get 
there first. They thought they had nothing to do but to pick up shining 
lumps of gold; and when they found that they had to dig and delve in the 
hard earth, and to dig systematically and continuously, with a great deal 
of digging for very little gold, their spirits fell. They were not used to 
dig; and it happened that most of them began in an unprofitable spot, 
where they digged for eight days without finding any gold. Their 
provisions were soon exhausted; and in a week they were back again in San 
Domingo, tired, famished, and bitterly disappointed. They had no genius 
for steady labour; most of them were virtually without means; and although 
they lived in San Domingo, on what they had as long as possible, they were 
soon starving there, and selling the clothes off their backs to procure 
food. Some of them took situations with the other settlers, more fell 
victims to the climate of the island and their own imprudences and 
distresses; and a thousand of them had died within two years. 

Ovando had revived the enthusiasm for mining by two enactments. He reduced 
the share of discovered gold payable to the Crown, and he developed 
Columbus's system of forced labour to such an extent that the mines were 
entirely worked by it. To each Spaniard, whether mining or farming, so 
many natives were allotted. It was not called slavery; the natives were 
supposed to be paid a minute sum, and their employers were also expected 
to teach them the Christian religion. That was the plan. The way in which 
it worked was that, a body of native men being allotted to a Spanish 
settler for a period, say, of six or eight months--for the enactment was 
precise in putting a period to the term of slavery--the natives would be 
marched off, probably many days' journey from their homes and families, 
and set to work under a Spanish foreman. The work, as we have already 
seen, was infinitely harder than that to which they were accustomed; and 
most serious of all, it was done under conditions that took all the heart 
out of the labour. A man will toil in his own garden or in tilling his own 
land with interest and happiness, not counting the hours which he spends 
there; knowing in fact that his work is worth doing, because he is doing 
it for a good reason. But put the same man to work in a gang merely for 
the aggrandisement of some other over-man; and the heart and cheerfulness 
will soon die out of him. 

It was so with these children of the sun. They were put to work ten times 
harder than any they had ever done before, and they were put to it under 
the lash. The light diet of their habit had been sufficient to support 
them in their former existence of happy idleness and dalliance, and they 
had not wanted anything more than their cassava bread and a little fish 
and fruit; now, however, they were put to work at a pressure which made a 
very different kind of feeding necessary to them, and this they did not 
get. Now and then a handful of pork would be divided among a dozen of 
them, but they were literally starved, and were accustomed to scramble 
like dogs for the bones that were thrown from the tables of the Spaniards, 
which bones they ground up and mixed with their, bread so that no portion 
of them might be lost. They died in numbers under these hard conditions, 
and, compared with their lives, their deaths must often have been happy. 
When the time came for them to go home they were generally utterly worn 
out and crippled, and had to face a long journey of many days with no food 
to support them but what they could get on the journey; and the roads were 
strewn with the dead bodies of those who fell by the way. 

And far worse things happened to them than labour and exhaustion. It 
became the custom among the Spaniards to regard the lives of the natives 
as of far less value than those of the dogs that were sometimes set upon 
them in sport. A Spaniard riding along would make a wager with his fellow 
that he would cut the head off a native with one stroke of his sword; and 
many attempts would be laughingly made, and many living bodies hideously 
mutilated and destroyed, before the feat would be accomplished. Another 
sport was one similar to pigsticking as it is practised in India, except 
that instead of pigs native women and children were stuck with the lances. 
There was no kind of mutilation and monstrous cruelty that was not 
practised. If there be any powers of hell, they stalked at large through 
the forests and valleys of Espanola. Lust and bloody cruelty, of a kind 
not merely indescribable but unrealisable by sane men and women, drenched 
the once happy island with anguish and terror. And in payment for it the 
Spaniards undertook to teach the heathen the Christian religion. 

The five chiefs who had ruled with justice and wisdom over the island of 
Espanola in the early days of Columbus were all dead, wiped out by the 
wave of wild death and cruelty that had swept over the island. The gentle 
Guacanagari, when he saw the desolation that was beginning to overwhelm 
human existence, had fled into the mountains, hiding his face in shame 
from the sons of men, and had miserably died there. Caonabo, Lord of the 
House of Gold, fiercest and bravest of them all, who first realised that 
the Spaniards were enemies to the native peace, after languishing in 
prison in the house of Columbus at Isabella for some time, had died in 
captivity during the voyage to Spain. Anacaona his wife, the Bloom of the 
Gold, that brave and beautiful woman, whose admiration of the Spaniards 
had by their bloody cruelties been turned into detestation, had been 
shamefully betrayed and ignominiously hanged. Behechio, her brother, the 
only cacique who did not sue for peace after the first conquest of the 
island by Christopher and Bartholomew Columbus, was dead long ago of 
wounds and sorrow. Guarionex, the Lord of the Vega Real, who had once been 
friendly enough, who had danced to the Spanish pipe and learned the 
Paternoster and Ave Maria, and whose progress in conversion to 
Christianity the seduction of his wives by those who were converting him 
had interrupted, after wandering in the mountains of Ciguay had been 
imprisoned in chains, and drowned in the hurricane of June 30, 1502. 

The fifth chief, Cotabanama, Lord of the province of Higua, made the last 
stand against Ovando in defence of the native right to existence, and was 
only defeated after severe battles and dreadful slaughters. His territory 
was among the mountains, and his last insurrection was caused, as so many 
others had been, by the intolerable conduct of the Spaniards towards the 
wives and daughters of the Indians. Collecting all his warriors, 
Cotabanama attacked the Spanish posts in his neighbourhood. At every 
engagement his troops were defeated and dispersed, but only to collect 
again, fight again with even greater fury, be defeated and dispersed 
again, and rally again against the Spaniards. They literally fought to the 
death. After every battle the Spaniards made a massacre of all the natives 
they could find, old men, children, and pregnant women being alike put to 
the sword or burned in their houses. When their companions fell beside 
them, instead of being frightened they became more furious; and when they 
were wounded they would pluck the arrows out of their bodies and hurl them 
back at the Spaniards, falling dead in the very act. After one such severe 
defeat and massacre the natives scattered for many months, hiding among 
the mountains and trying to collect and succour their decimated families; 
but the Spaniards, who with their dogs grew skilful at tracking the 
Indians and found it pleasant sport, came upon them in the places of 
refuge where little groups of them were sheltering their women and 
children, and there slowly and cruelly slaughtered them, often with the 
addition of tortures and torments in order to induce them to reveal the 
whereabouts of other bands. When it was possible the Spaniards sometimes 
hanged thirteen of them in a row in commemoration of their Blessed Saviour 
and the Twelve Apostles; and while they were hanging, and before they had 
quite died, they would hack at them with their swords in order to test the 
edge of the steel. At the last stand, when the fierceness and bitterness 
of the contest rose to a height on both sides, Cotabanama was captured and 
a plan made to broil him slowly to death; but for some reason this plan 
was not carried out, and the brave chief was taken to San Domingo and 
publicly hanged like a thief. 

After that there was never any more resistance; it was simply a case of 
extermination, which the Spaniards easily accomplished by cutting of the 
heads of women as they passed by, and impaling infants and little children 
on their lances as they rode through the villages. Thus, in the twelve 
years since the discovery of Columbus, between half a million and a 
million natives, perished; and as the Spanish colonisation spread 
afterwards from island to island, and the banner of civilisation and 
Christianity was borne farther abroad throughout the Indies, the same 
hideous process was continued. In Cuba, in Jamaica, throughout the 
Antilles, the cross and the sword, the whip-lash and the Gospel advanced 
together; wherever the Host was consecrated, hideous cries of agony and 
suffering broke forth; until happily, in the fulness of time, the dire 
business was complete, and the whole of the people who had inhabited this 
garden of the world were exterminated and their blood and race wiped from 
the face of the earth . . . . Unless, indeed, blood and race and hatred be 
imperishable things; unless the faithful Earth that bred and reared the 
race still keeps in her soil, and in the waving branches of the trees and 
the green grasses, the sacred essences of its blood and hatred; unless in 
the full cycle of Time, when that suffering flesh and blood shall have 
gone through all the changes of substance and condition, from corruption 
and dust through flowers and grasses and trees and animals back into the 
living body of mankind again, it shall one day rise up terribly to avenge 
that horror of the past. Unless Earth and Time remember, O Children of the 
Sun! for men have forgotten, and on the soil of your Paradise the African 
negro, learned in the vices of Europe, erects his monstrous effigy of 
civilisation and his grotesque mockery of freedom; unless it be through 
his brutish body, into which the blood and hatred with which the soil of 
Espanola was soaked have now passed, that they shall dreadfully strike at 
the world again.



CHAPTER VIII.
THE ADMIRAL COMES HOME 

On September 12, 1504, Christopher Columbus did many things for the last 
time. He who had so often occupied himself in ports and harbours with the 
fitting out of ships and preparations for a voyage now completed at San 
Domingo the simple preparations for the last voyage he was to take. The 
ship he had come in from Jamaica had been refitted and placed under the 
command of Bartholomew, and he had bought another small caravel in which 
he and his son were to sail. For the last time he superintended those 
details of fitting out and provisioning which were now so familiar to him; 
for the last time he walked in the streets of San Domingo and mingled with 
the direful activities of his colony; he looked his last upon the place 
where the vital scenes of his life had been set, for the last time weighed 
anchor, and took his last farewell of the seas and islands of his 
discovery. A little steadfast looking, a little straining of the eyes, a 
little heart-aching no doubt, and Espanola has sunk down into the sea 
behind the white wake of the ships; and with its fading away the span of 
active life allotted to this man shuts down, and his powerful 
opportunities for good or evil are withdrawn. 

There was something great and heroic about the Admiral's last voyage. Wind 
and sea rose up as though to make a last bitter attack upon the man who 
had disclosed their mysteries and betrayed their secrets. He had hardly 
cleared the island before the first gale came down upon him and dismasted 
his ship, so that he was obliged to transfer himself and his son to 
Bartholomew's caravel and send the disabled vessel back to Espanola. The 
shouting sea, as though encouraged by this triumph, hurled tempest after 
tempest upon the one lonely small ship that was staggering on its way to 
Spain; and the duel between this great seaman and the vast elemental power 
that he had so often outwitted began in earnest. One little ship, one 
enfeebled man to be destroyed by the power of the sea: that was the 
problem, and there were thousands of miles of sea-room, and two months of 
time to solve it in! Tempest after tempest rose and drove unceasingly 
against the ship. A mast was sprung and had to be cut away; another, and 
the woodwork from the forecastles and high stern works had to be stripped 
and lashed round the crazy mainmast to preserve it from wholesale 
destruction. Another gale, and the mast had to be shortened, for even 
reinforced as it was it would not bear the strain; and so crippled, so 
buffeted, this very small ship leapt and staggered on her way across the 
Atlantic, keeping her bowsprit pointed to that region of the foamy 
emptiness where Spain was. 

The Admiral lay crippled in his cabin listening to the rush and bubble of 
the water, feeling the blows and recoils of the unending battle, 
hearkening anxiously to the straining of the timbers and the vessel's 
agonised complainings under the pounding of the seas. We do not know what 
his thoughts were; but we may guess that they looked backward rather than 
forward, and that often they must have been prayers that the present 
misery would come somehow or other to an end. Up on deck brother 
Bartholomew, who has developed some grievous complaint of the jaws and 
teeth--complaint not known to us more particularly, but dreadful enough 
from that description--does his duty also, with that heroic manfulness 
that has marked his whole career; and somewhere in the ship young 
Ferdinand is sheltering from the sprays and breaking seas, finding his 
world of adventure grown somewhat gloomy and sordid of late, and feeling 
that he has now had his fill of the sea . . . . Shut your eyes and let the 
illusions of time and place fade from you; be with them for a moment on 
this last voyage; hear that eternal foaming and crashing of great waves, 
the shrieking of wind in cordage, the cracking and slatting of the sails, 
the mad lashing of loose ropes; the painful swinging, and climbing up and 
diving down, and sinking and staggering and helpless strivings of the 
small ship in the waste of water. The sea is as empty as chaos, nothing 
for days and weeks but that infinite tumbling surface and heaven of grey 
storm-clouds; a world of salt surges encircled by horizons of dim foam. 
Time and place are nothing; the agony and pain of such moments are 
eternal. 

But the two brothers, grim and gigantic in their sea power, subtle as the 
wind itself in their sea wit, win the battle. Over the thousands of miles 
of angry surges they urge that small ship towards calm and safety; until 
one day the sea begins to abate a little, and through the spray and tumult 
of waters the dim loom of land is seen. The sea falls back disappointed 
and finally conquered by Christopher Columbus, whose ship, battered, 
crippled, and strained, comes back out of the wilderness of waters and 
glides quietly into the smooth harbour of San Lucar, November 7, 1504. 
There were no guns or bells to greet the Admiral; his only salute was in 
the thunder of the conquered seas; and he was carried ashore to San Lucar, 
and thence to Seville, a sick and broken man.



CHAPTER IX.
THE LAST DAYS 

Columbus, for whom rest and quiet were the first essentials, remained in 
Seville from November 1504 to May 1505, when he joined the Court at 
Segovia and afterwards at Salamanca and Valladolid, where he remained till 
his death in May 1506. During this last period, when all other activities 
were practically impossible to him, he fell into a state of letter-
writing--for the most part long, wearisome complainings and explainings in 
which he poured out a copious flood of tears and self-pity for the loss of 
his gold. 

It has generally been claimed that Columbus was in bitter penury and want 
of money, but a close examination of the letters and other documents 
relating to this time show that in his last days he was not poor in any 
true sense of the word. He was probably a hundred times richer than any of 
his ancestors had ever been; he had, money to give and money to spend; the 
banks honoured his drafts; his credit was apparently indisputable. But 
compared with the fabulous wealth to which he would by this time have been 
entitled if his original agreement with the Crown of Spain had been 
faithfully carried out he was no doubt poor. There is no evidence that he 
lacked any comfort or alleviation that money could buy; indeed he never 
had any great craving for the things that money can buy--only for money 
itself. There must have been many rich people in Spain who would gladly 
have entertained him in luxury and dignity; but he was not the kind of man 
to set much store by such things except in so far as they were a 
decoration and advertisement of his position as a great man. He had set 
himself to the single task of securing what he called his rights; and in 
these days of sunset he seems to have been illumined by some glimmer of 
the early glory of his first inspiration. He wanted the payment of his 
dues now, not so much for his own enrichment, but as a sign to the world 
that his great position as Admiral and Viceroy was recognised, so that his 
dignities and estates might be established and consolidated in a form 
which he would be able to transmit to his remote posterity. 

Since he wrote so copiously and so constantly in these last days, the best 
picture of his mood and condition is afforded in his letters to his son 
Diego; letters which, in spite of their infinitely wearisome 
recapitulation and querulous complaint, should be carefully read by those 
who wish to keep in touch with the Admiral to the end. 

Letter written by CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS to DON DIEGO, his Son, November 21, 
1504. 

"VERY DEAR SON,--I received your letter by the courier. You did well in 
remaining yonder to remedy our affairs somewhat and to employ yourself now 
in our business. Ever since I came to Castile, the Lord Bishop of Palencia 
has shown me favour and has desired that I should be honoured. Now he must 
be entreated that it may please him to occupy himself in remedying my many 
grievances and in ordering that the agreement and letters of concession 
which their Highnesses gave me be fulfilled, and that I be indemnified for 
so many damages. And he may be certain that if their Highnesses do this, 
their estate and greatness will be multiplied to them in an incredible 
degree. And it must not appear to him that forty thousand pesos in gold is 
more than a representation of it; because they might have had a much 
greater quantity if Satan had not hindered it by impeding my design; for, 
when I was taken away from the Indies, I was prepared to give them a sum 
of gold incomparable to forty thousand pesos. I make oath, and this may be 
for thee alone, that the damage to me in the matter of the concessions 
their Highnesses have made to me, amounts to ten millions each year, and 
never can be made good. You see what will be, or is, the injury to their 
Highnesses in what belongs to them, and they do not perceive it. I write 
at their disposal and will strive to start yonder. My arrival and the rest 
is in the hands of our Lord. His mercy is infinite. What is done and is to 
be done, St. Augustine says is already done before the creation of the 
world. I write also to these other Lords named in the letter of Diego 
Mendez. Commend me to their mercy and tell them of my going as I have said 
above. For certainly I feel great fear, as the cold is so inimical to 
this, my infirmity, that I may have to remain on the road. 

"I was very much pleased to hear the contents of your letter and what the 
King our Lord said, for which you kissed his royal hands. It is certain 
that I have served their Highnesses with as much diligence and love as 
though it had been to gain Paradise, and more, and if I have been at fault 
in anything it has been because it was impossible or because my knowledge 
and strength were not sufficient. God, our Lord, in such a case, does not 
require more from persons than the will. 

"At the request of the Treasurer Morales, I left two brothers in the 
Indies, who are called Porras. The one was captain and the other auditor. 
Both were without capacity for these positions: and I was confident that 
they could fill them, because of love for the person who sent them to me. 
They both became more vain than they had been. I forgave them many 
incivilities, more than I would do with a relation, and their offences 
were such that they merited another punishment than a verbal reprimand. 
Finally they reached such a point that even had I desired, I could not 
have avoided doing what I did. The records of the case will prove whether 
I lie or not. They rebelled on the island of Jamaica, at which I was as 
much astonished as I would be if the sun's rays should cast darkness. I 
was at the point of death, and they martyrised me with extreme cruelty 
during five months and without cause. Finally I took them all prisoners, 
and immediately set them free, except the captain, whom I was bringing as 
a prisoner to their Highnesses. A petition which they made to me under 
oath, and which I send you with this letter, will inform you at length in 
regard to this matter, although the records of the case explain it fully. 
These records and the Notary are coming on another vessel, which I am 
expecting from day to day. The Governor in Santo Domingo took this 
prisoner.--His courtesy constrained him to do this. I had a chapter in my 
instructions in which their Highnesses ordered all to obey me, and that I 
should exercise civil and criminal justice over all those who were with 
me: but this was of no avail with the Governor, who said that it was not 
understood as applying in his territory. He sent the prisoner to these 
Lords who have charge of the Indies without inquiry or record or writing. 
They did not receive him, and both brothers go free. It is not wonderful 
to me that our Lord punishes. They went there with shameless faces. Such 
wickedness or such cruel treason were never heard of. I wrote to their 
Highnesses about this matter in the other letter, and said that it was not 
right for them to consent to this offence. I also wrote to the Lord 
Treasurer that I begged him as a favour not to pass sentence on the 
testimony given by these men until he heard me. Now it will be well for 
you to remind him of it anew. I do, not know how they dare to go before 
him with such an undertaking. I have written to him about it again and 
have sent him the copy of the oath, the same as I send to you and likewise 
to Doctor Angulo and the Licentiate Zapata. I commend myself to the mercy 
of all, with the information that my departure yonder will take place in a 
short time. 

"I would be glad to receive a letter from their Highnesses and to know 
what they order. You must procure such a letter if you see the means of so 
doing. I also commend myself to the Lord Bishop and to Juan Lopez, with 
the reminder of illness and of the reward for my services. 

"You must read the letters which go with this one in order to act in 
conformity with what they say. Acknowledge the receipt of his letter to 
Diego Mendez. I do not write him as he will learn everything from you, and 
also because my illness prevents it. 

"It would be well for Carbajal and Jeronimo --[Jeronimo de Aguero, a 
landowner in Espanola and a friend of Columbus]-- to be at the-Court at 
this time, and talk of our affairs with these Lords and with the 
Secretary. 

"Done in Seville, November 21. 

"Your father who loves you more than himself. 
".S. .S.A.S. XMY Xpo FERENS." 

"I wrote again to their Highnesses entreating them to order that these 
people who went with me should be paid, because they are poor and it is 
three years since they left their homes. The news which they bring is more 
than extraordinary. They have endured infinite dangers and hardships. I 
did not wish to rob the country, so as not to cause scandal, because 
reason advises its being populated, and then gold will be obtained freely 
without scandal. Speak of this to the Secretary and to the Lord Bishop and 
to Juan Lopez and to whomever you think it advisable to do so." 

The Bishop of Palencia referred to in this letter is probably Bishop 
Fonseca--probably, because it is known that he did become Bishop of 
Palencia, although there is a difference of opinion among historians as to 
whether the date of his translation to that see was before or after this 
letter. No matter, except that one is glad to think that an old enemy--for 
Fonseca and Columbus had bitter disagreements over the fitting out of 
various expeditions--had shown himself friendly at last. 

Letter written by CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS to DON DIEGO, November 28, 1504. 

"VERY DEAR SON,--I received your letters of the 15th of this month. It is 
eight days since I wrote you and sent the letter by a courier. I enclosed 
unsealed letters to many other persons, in order that you might see them, 
and having read them, seal and deliver them. Although this illness of mine 
troubles me greatly, I am preparing for my departure in every way. I would 
very much like to receive the reply from their Highnesses and wish you 
might procure it: and also I wish that their Highnesses would provide for 
the payment of these poor people, who have passed through incredible 
hardships and have brought them such great news that infinite thanks 
should be given to God, our Lord, and they should rejoice greatly over it. 
If I [lie?] the 'Paralipomenon'--[ The Book of Chronicles]-- and the Book 
of Kings and the Antiquities of Josephus, with very many others, will tell 
what they know of this. I hope in our Lord to depart this coming week, but 
you must not write less often on that account. I have not heard from 
Carbajal and Jeronimo. If they are there, commend me to them. The time is 
such that both Carbajals ought to be at Court, if illness does not prevent 
them. My regards to Diego Mendez. 

"I believe that his truth and efforts will be worth as much as the lies of 
the Porras brothers. The bearer of this letter is Martin de Gamboa. I am 
sending by him a letter to Juan Lopez and a letter of credit. Read the 
letter to Lopez and then give it to him. If you write me, send the letters 
to Luis de Soria that he may send them wherever I am, because if I go in a 
litter, I believe it will be by La Plata.--[The old Roman road from Merida 
to Salamanca.]-- May our Lord have you in His holy keeping. Your uncle has 
been very sick and is now, from trouble with his jaws and his teeth. 

"Done in Seville, November 28. 
"Your father who loves you more than himself. 
".S. .S.A.S. XMY Xpo FERENS." 

Bartholomew Columbus and Ferdinand were remaining with Christopher at 
Seville; Bartholomew probably very nearly as ill as the Admiral, although 
we do not hear so many complaints about it. At any rate Diego, being ay 
Court, was the great mainstay of his father; and you can see the sick man 
sitting there alone with his grievances, and looking to the next 
generation for help in getting them redressed. Diego, it is to be feared, 
did not receive these letters with so much patience and attention as he 
might have shown, nor did he write back to his invalid father with the 
fulness and regularity which the old man craved. It is a fault common to 
sons. Those who are sons will know that it does not necessarily imply lack 
of affection on Diego's part; those who are fathers will realise how much 
Christopher longed for verbal assurance of interest and affection, even 
though he did not doubt their reality. News of the serious illness of 
Queen Isabella had evidently reached Columbus, and was the chief topic of 
public interest. 

Letter written by CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS to DON DIEGO, his Son, December 1, 
1504. 

"VERY DEAR SON,--Since I received your letter of November 15 I have heard 
nothing from you. I wish that you would write me more frequently. I would 
like to receive a letter from you each hour. Reason must tell you that now 
I have no other repose. Many couriers come each day, and the news is of 
such a nature and so abundant that on hearing it all my hair stands on 
end; it is so contrary to what my soul desires. May it please the Holy 
Trinity to give health to the Queen, our Lady, that she may settle what 
has already been placed under discussion. I wrote you by another courier 
Thursday, eight days ago. The courier must already be on his way back 
here. I told you in that letter that my departure was certain, but that 
the hope of my arrival there, according to experience, was very uncertain, 
because my sickness is so bad, and the cold is so well suited to aggravate 
it, that I could not well avoid remaining in some inn on the road. The 
litter and everything were ready. The weather became so violent that it 
appeared impossible to every one to start when it was getting so bad, and 
that it was better for so well-known a person as myself to take care of 
myself and try to regain my health rather than place myself in danger. I 
told you in those letters what I now say, that you decided well in 
remaining there (at such a time), and that it was right to commence 
occupying yourself with our affairs; and reason strongly urges this. It 
appears to me that a good copy should be made of the chapter of that 
letter which their Highnesses wrote me where they say they will fulfil 
their promises to me and will place you in possession of everything: and 
that this copy should be given to them with another writing telling of my 
sickness, and that it is now impossible for me to go and kiss their Royal 
feet and hands, and that the Indies are being lost, and are on fire in a 
thousand places, and that I have received nothing, and am receiving 
nothing, from the revenues derived from them, and that no one dares to 
accept or demand anything there for me, and I am living upon borrowed 
funds. I spent the money which I got there in bringing those people who 
went with me back to their homes, for it would be a great burden upon my 
conscience to have left them there and to have abandoned them. This must 
be made known to the Lord Bishop of Palencia, in whose favour I have so 
much confidence, and also to the Lord Chamberlain. I believed that 
Carbajal and Jeronimo would be there at such a time. Our Lord is there, 
and He will order everything as He knows it to be best for us. 

"Carbajal reached here yesterday. I wished to send him immediately with 
this same order, but he excused himself profusely, saying that his wife 
was at the point of death. I shall see that he goes, because he knows a 
great deal about these affairs. I will also endeavour to have your brother 
and your uncle go to kiss the hands of Their Highnesses, and give them an 
account of the voyage if my letters are not sufficient. Take good care of 
your brother. He has a good disposition, and is no longer a boy. Ten 
brothers would not be too many for you. I never found better friends to 
right or to left than my brothers. We must strive to obtain the government 
of the Indies and then the adjustment of the revenues. I gave you a 
memorandum which told you what part of them belongs to me. What they gave 
to Carbajal was nothing and has turned to nothing. Whoever desires to do 
so takes merchandise there, and so the eighth is nothing, because, without 
contributing the eighth, I could send to trade there without rendering 
account or going in company with any one. I said a great many times in the 
past that the contribution of the eighth would come to nothing. The eighth 
and the rest belongs to me by reason of the concession which their 
Highnesses made to me, as set forth in the book of my Privileges, and also 
the third and the tenth. Of the tenth I received nothing, except the tenth 
of what their Highnesses receive; and it must be the tenth of all the gold 
and other things which are found and obtained, in whatever manner it may 
be, within this Admiralship, and the tenth of all the merchandise which 
goes and comes from there, after the expenses are deducted. I have already 
said that in the Book of Privileges the reason for this and for the rest 
which is before the Tribunal of the Indies here in Seville, is clearly set 
forth. 

"We must strive to obtain a reply to my letter from their Highnesses, and 
to have them order that these people be paid. I wrote in regard to this 
subject four days ago, and sent the letter by Martin de Gamboa, and you 
must have seen the letter of Juan Lopez with your own. 

"It is said here that it has been ordered that three or four Bishops of 
the Indies shall be sent or created, and that this matter is referred to 
the Lord Bishop of Palencia. After having commended me to his Worship, 
tell him that I believe it will best serve their Highnesses for me to talk 
with him before this matter is settled. 

"Commend me to Diego Mendez, and show him this letter. My illness permits 
me to write only at night, because in the daytime my hands are deprived of 
strength. I believe that a son of Francisco Pinelo will carry this letter. 
Entertain him well, because he does everything for me that he can, with 
much love and a cheerful goodwill. The caravel which broke her mast in 
starting from Santo Domingo has arrived in the Algarves. She brings the 
records of the case of the Porras brothers. Such ugly things and such 
grievous cruelty as appear in this matter never were seen. If their 
Highnesses do not punish it, I do not know who will dare to go out in 
their service with people. 

"To-day is Monday. I will endeavour to have your uncle and brother start 
to-morrow. Remember to write me very often, and tell Diego Mendez to write 
at length. Each day messengers go from here yonder. May our Lord have you 
in His Holy keeping. 

"Done in Seville, December 1. 
"Your father who loves you as himself. 
".S. .S.A.S. XMY Xpo FERENS." 

The gout from which the Admiral suffered made riding impossible to him, 
and he had arranged to have himself carried to Court on a litter when he 
was able to move. There is a grim and dismal significance in the 
particular litter that had been chosen: it was no other than the funeral 
bier which belonged to the Cathedral of Seville and had been built for 
Cardinal Mendoza. A minute of the Cathedral Chapter records the granting 
to Columbus of the use of this strange conveyance; but one is glad to 
think that he ultimately made his journey in a less grim though more 
humble method. But what are we to think of the taste of a man who would 
rather travel in a bier, so long as it had been associated with the 
splendid obsequies of a cardinal, than in the ordinary litter of every- 
day use? It is but the old passion for state and splendour thus dismally 
breaking out again. 

He speaks of living on borrowed funds and of having devoted all his 
resources to the payment of his crew;, but that may be taken as an 
exaggeration. He may have borrowed, but the man who can borrow easily from 
banks cannot be regarded as a poor man. One is nevertheless grateful for 
these references, since they commemorate the Admiral's unfailing loyalty 
to those who shared his hardships, and his unwearied efforts to see that 
they received what was due to them. Pleasant also are the evidences of 
warm family affection in those simple words of brotherly love, and the 
affecting advice to Diego that he should love his brother Ferdinand as 
Christopher loved Bartholomew. It is a pleasant oasis in this dreary, 
sordid wailing after thirds and tenths and eighths. Good Diego Mendez, 
that honourable gentleman, was evidently also at Court at this time, 
honestly striving, we may be sure, to say a good word for the Admiral. 

Some time after this letter was written, and before the writing of the 
next, news reached Seville of the death of Queen Isabella. For ten years 
her kind heart had been wrung by many sorrows. Her mother had died in 
1496; the next year her only son and heir to the crown had followed; and 
within yet another year had died her favourite daughter, the Queen of 
Portugal. Her other children were all scattered with the exception of 
Juana, whose semi-imbecile condition caused her parents an anxiety greater 
even than that caused by death. As Isabella's life thus closed sombrely 
in, she applied herself more closely and more narrowly to such pious 
consolations as were available. News from Flanders of the scandalous 
scenes between Philip and Juana in the summer of 1504 brought on an 
illness from which she really never recovered, a kind of feverish distress 
of mind and body in which her only alleviation was the transaction of such 
business as was possible for her in the direction of humanity and 
enlightenment. She still received men of intellect and renown, especially 
travellers. But she knew that her end was near, and as early as October 
she had made her will, in which her wishes as to the succession and 
government of Castile were clearly laid down. There was no mention of 
Columbus in this will, which afterwards greatly mortified him; but it is 
possible that the poor Queen had by this time, even against her wish, come 
to share the opinions of her advisers that the rule of Columbus in the 
West Indies had not brought the most humane and happy results possible to 
the people there. 

During October and November her life thus beat itself away in a succession 
of duties faithfully performed, tasks duly finished, preparations for the 
great change duly made. She died, as she would have wished to die, 
surrounded by friends who loved and admired her, and fortified by the last 
rites of the Church for her journey into the unknown. Date, November 26, 
1504, in the fifty-fourth year of her age. 

Columbus had evidently received the news from a public source, and felt 
mortified that Diego should not have written him a special letter. 

Letter written by CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS to DON DIEGO, his Son, December 3, 
1504. 

"VERY DEAR SON,--I wrote you at length day before yesterday and sent it by 
Francisco Pinelo, and with this letter I send you a very full memorandum. 
I am very much astonished not to receive a letter from you or from any one 
else, and this astonishment is shared by all who know me. Every one here 
has letters, and I, who have more reason to expect them, have none. Great 
care should be taken about this matter. The memorandum of which I have 
spoken above says enough, and on this account I do not speak more at 
length here. Your brother and your uncle and Carbajal are going yonder. 
You will learn from them what is not said here. May our Lord have you in 
His Holy keeping. 

"Done in Seville, December 3. 
"Your father who loves you more than himself. 
".S. .S.A.S. XMY Xpo FERENS." 

Document of COLUMBUS addressed to his Son, DIEGO, and intended to 
accompany the preceding letter. 

"A memorandum for you, my very dear son, Don Diego, of what occurs to me 
at the present time which must be done:--The principal thing is, 
affectionately and with great devotion to commend the soul of the Queen, 
our Lady, to God. Her life was always Catholic and Holy and ready for all 
the things of His holy service, and for this reason it must be believed 
that she is in His holy glory and beyond the desires of this rough and 
wearisome world. Then the next thing is to be watchful and exert one's 
self in the service of the King, our Lord, and to strive to keep him from 
being troubled. His Highness is the head of Christendom. See the proverb 
which says that when the head aches, all the members ache. So that all 
good Christians should entreat that he may have long life and health: and 
those of us who are obliged to serve him more than others must join in 
this supplication with great earnestness and diligence. This reason 
prompts me now with my severe illness to write you what I am writing here, 
that his Highness may dispose matters for his service: and for the better 
fulfilment I am sending your brother there, who, although he is a child in 
days, is not a child in understanding; and I am sending your uncle and 
Carbajal, so that if this, my writing, is not sufficient, they, together 
with yourself, can furnish verbal evidence. In my opinion there is nothing 
so necessary for the service of his Highness as the disposition and 
remedying of the affair of the Indies. 

"His Highness must now have there more than 40,000 or 50,000 gold pieces. 
I learned when I was there that the Governor had no desire to send it to 
him. It is believed among the other people as well that there will be 150,
000 pesos more, and the mines are very rich and productive. Most of the 
people there are common and ignorant, and care very little for the 
circumstances. The Governor is very much hated by all of them, and it is 
to be feared that they may at some time rebel. If this should occur, which 
God forbid, the remedy for the matter would then be difficult: and so it 
would be if injustice were used toward them, either here or in other 
places, with the great fame of the gold. My opinion is that his Highness 
should investigate this affair quickly and by means of a person who is 
interested and who can go there with 150 or 200 people well equipped, and 
remain there until it is well settled and without suspicion, which cannot 
be done in less than three months: and that an endeavour be made to raise 
two or three forces there. The gold there is exposed to great risk, as 
there are very few people to protect it. I say that there is a proverb 
here which says that the presence of the owner makes the horse fat. Here 
and wherever I may be, I shall serve their Highnesses with joy, until my 
soul leaves this body. 

"Above I said that his Highness is the head of the Christians, and that it 
is necessary for him to occupy himself in preserving them and their lands. 
For this reason people say that he cannot thus provide a good government 
for all these Indies, and that they are being lost and do not yield a 
profit, neither are they being handled in a reasonable manner. In my 
opinion it would serve him to intrust this matter to some one who is 
distressed over the bad treatment of his subjects. 

"I wrote a very long letter to his Highness as soon as I arrived here, 
fully stating the evils which require a prompt and efficient remedy at 
once. I have received no reply, nor have I seen any provision made in the 
matter. Some vessels are detained in San Lucar by the weather. I have told 
these gentlemen of the Board of Trade that they must order them held until 
the King, our Lord, makes provision in the matter, either by some person 
with other people, or by writing. This is very necessary and I know what I 
say. It is necessary that the authorities should order all the ports 
searched diligently, to see that no one goes yonder to the Indies without 
licence. I have already said that there is a great deal of gold collected 
in straw houses without any means of defence, and there are many 
disorderly people in the country, and that the Governor is hated, and that 
little punishment is inflicted and has been inflicted upon those who have 
committed crimes and have come out with their treasonable conduct 
approved. 

"If his Highness decides to make some provision, it must be done at once, 
so that these vessels may not be injured. 

"I have heard that three Bishops are to be elected and sent to Espanola. 
If it pleases his Highness to hear me before concluding this matter, I 
will tell in what manner God our Lord may be well served and his Highness 
served and satisfied. 

"I have given lengthy consideration to the provision for Espanola:" 

Yes, the Queen is in His Holy Glory, and beyond the desires of this rough 
and wearisome world; but we are not; we are still in a world where fifty 
thousand gold pieces can be of use to us, and where a word spoken in 
season, even in such a season of darkness, may have its effect with the 
King. A strange time to talk to the King about gold; and perhaps Diego was 
wiser and kinder than his father thought in not immediately taking this 
strange document to King Ferdinand. 

Letter written by CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS to DON DIEGO, his Son, December 13, 
1504 

"VERY DEAR SON,--It is now eight days since your uncle and your brother 
and Carbajal left here together, to kiss the royal hands of his Highness, 
and to give an account of the voyage, and also to aid you in the 
negotiation of whatever may prove to be necessary there. 

"Don Ferdinand took from here 150 ducats to be expended at his discretion. 
He will have to spend some of it, but he will give you what he has 
remaining. He also carries a letter of credit for these merchants. You 
will see that it is very necessary to be careful in dealing with them, 
because I had trouble there with the Governor, as every one told me that I 
had there 11,000 or 12,000 castellanos, and I had only 4000. He wished to 
charge me with things for which I am not indebted, and I, confiding in the 
promise of their Highnesses, who ordered everything restored to me, 
decided to leave these charges in the hope of calling him to account for 
them. If any one has money there, they do not dare ask for it, on account 
of his haughtiness. I very well know that after my departure he must have 
received more than 5000 castellanos. If it were possible for you to obtain 
from his Highness an authoritative letter to the Governor, ordering him to 
send the money without delay and a full account of what belongs to me, by 
the person I might send there with my power of attorney, it would be well; 
because he will not give it in any other manner, neither to my friend Diaz 
or Velasquez, and they dare not even speak of it to him. Carbajal will 
very well know how this must be done. Let him see this letter. The 150 
ducats which Luis de Soria sent you when I came are paid according to his 
desire. 

"I wrote you at length and sent the letter by Don Ferdinand, also a 
memorandum. Now that I have thought over the matter further, I say that, 
since at the time of my departure their Highnesses said over their 
signature and verbally, that they would give me all that belongs to me, 
according to my privileges--that the claim for the third or the tenth and 
eighth mentioned in the memorandum must be relinquished, and instead the 
chapter of their letter must be shown where they write what I have said, 
and all that belongs to me must be required, as you have it in writing in 
the Book of Privileges, in which is also set forth the reason for my 
receiving the third, eighth, and tenth; as there is always an opportunity 
to reduce the sum desired by a person, although his Highness says in his 
letter that he wishes to give me all that belongs to me. Carbajal will 
understand me very well if he sees this letter, and every one else as 
well, as it is very clear. I also wrote to his Highness and finally 
reminded him that he must provide at once for this affair of the Indies, 
that the people there may not be disturbed, and also reminding him of the 
promise stated above. You ought to see the letter. 

"With this letter I send you another letter of credit for the said 
merchants. I have already explained to you the reasons why expenses should 
be moderated. Show your uncle due respect, and treat your brother as an 
elder brother should treat a younger. You have no other brother, and 
praised be our Lord, he is such a one as you need very much. He has proved 
and proves to be very intelligent. Honour Carbajal and Jeronimo and Diego 
Mendez. Commend me to them all. I do not write them as there is nothing to 
write and this messenger is in haste. It is frequently rumoured here that 
the Queen, whom God has, has left an order that I be restored to the 
possession of the Indies. On arrival, the notary of the fleet will send 
you the records and the original of the case of the Porras brothers. I 
have received no news from your uncle and brother since they left. The 
water has been so high here that the river entered the city. 

"If Agostin Italian and Francisco de Grimaldo do not wish to give you the 
money you need, look for others there who are willing to give it to you. 
On the arrival here of your signature I will at once pay them all that you 
have received: for at present there is not a person here by whom I can 
send you money. 

"Done to-day, Friday, December 13, 1504 
"Your father who loves you more than himself. 
".S. .S.A.S. XMY Xpo FERENS." 

Letter written by CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS to his Son, DON DIEGO, December 21, 
1504. 

"VERY DEAR SON, The Lord Adelantado and your brother and Carbajal left 
here sixteen days ago to go to the Court. They have not written me since. 
Don Ferdinand carried 150 ducats. He must spend what is necessary, and he 
carries a letter, that the merchants may furnish you with money. I have 
sent you another letter since, with the endorsement of Francisco de 
Ribarol, by Zamora, the courier, and told you that if you had made 
provision for yourself by means of my letter, not to use that of Francisco 
de Ribarol. I say the same now in regard to another letter which I send 
you with this one, for Francisco Doria, which letter I send you for 
greater security that you may not fail to be provided with money. I have 
already told you how necessary it is to be careful in the expenditure of 
the money, until their Highnesses give us law and justice. I also told you 
that I had spent 1200 castellanos in bringing these people to Castile, of 
which his Highness owes me the greater part, and I wrote him in regard to 
it asking him to order the account settled. 

"If possible I should like to receive letters here each day. I complain of 
Diego Mendez and of Jeronimo, as they do not write me: and then of the 
others who do not write when they arrive there. We must strive to learn 
whether the Queen, whom God has in His keeping, said anything about me in 
her will, and we must hurry the Lord Bishop of Palencia, who caused the 
possession of the Indies by their Highnesses and my remaining in Castile, 
for I was already on my way to leave it. And the Lord Chamberlain of his 
Highness must also be hurried. If by chance the affair comes to 
discussion, you must strive to have them see the writing which is in the 
Book of Privileges, which shows the reason why the third, eighth, and 
tenth are owing me, as I told you in another letter. 

"I have written to the Holy Father in regard to my voyage, as he 
complained of me because I did not write him. I send you a copy of the 
letter. I would like to have the King, our Lord, or the Lord Bishop of 
Palencia see it before I send the letter, in order to avoid false 
representations. 

"Camacho has told a thousand falsehoods about me. To my regret I ordered 
him arrested. He is in the church. He says that after the Holidays are 
past, he will go there if he is able. If I owe him, he must show by what 
reason; for I make oath that I do not know it, nor is it true. 

"If without importunity a licence can be procured for me to go on mule-
back, I will try to leave for the Court after January, and I will even go 
without this licence. But haste must be made that the loss of the Indies, 
which is now imminent, may not take place. May our Lord have you in His 
keeping. 

"Done to-day, December 21. 
"Your father who loves you more than himself. 
".S. .S.A.S. XMY Xpo FERENS." 

"This tenth which they give me is not the tenth which was promised me. The 
Privileges tell what it is, and there is also due me the tenth of the 
profit derived from merchandise and from all other things, of which I have 
received nothing. Carbajal understands me well. Also remind Carbajal to 
obtain a letter from his Highness for the Governor, directing him to send 
his accounts and the money I have there, at once. And it would be well 
that a Repostero of his Highness should go there to receive this money, as 
there must be a large amount due me. I will strive to have these gentlemen 
of the Board of Trade send also to say to the Governor that he must send 
my share together with the gold belonging to their Highnesses. But the 
remedy for the other matter must not be neglected there on this account. I 
say that 7000 or 8000 pesos must have passed to my credit there, which sum 
has been received since I left, besides the other money which was not 
given to me. 

"To my very dear son Don Diego at the Court." 

All this struggling for the due payment of eighths and tenths makes 
wearisome reading, and we need not follow the Admiral into his 
distinctions between one kind of tenth and another. There is something to 
be said on his side, it must be remembered; the man had not received what 
was due to him; and although he was not in actual poverty, his only 
property in this world consisted of these very thirds and eighths and 
tenths. But if we are inclined to think poorly of the Admiral for his 
dismal pertinacity, what are we to think of the people who took advantage 
of their high position to ignore consistently the just claims made upon 
them? 

There is no end to the Admiral's letter-writing at this time. Fortunately 
for us his letter to the Pope has been lost, or else we should have to 
insert it here; and we have had quite enough of his theological stupors. 
As for the Queen's will, there was no mention of the Admiral in it; and 
her only reference to the Indies showed that she had begun to realise some 
of the disasters following his rule there, for the provisions that are 
concerned with the New World refer exclusively to the treatment of the 
natives, to whose succour, long after they were past succour, the hand of 
Isabella was stretched out from the grave. The licence to travel on mule-
back which the Admiral asked for was made necessary by a law which had 
been passed forbidding the use of mules for this purpose throughout Spain. 
There had been a scarcity of horses for mounting the royal cavalry, and it 
was thought that the breeding of horses had been neglected on account of 
the greater cheapness and utility of mules. It was to encourage the use 
and breeding of horses that an interdict was laid on the use of mules, and 
only the very highest persons in the land were allowed to employ them. 

Letter written by CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS to his Son, DON DIEGO, December 29, 
1504. 

"VERY DEAR SON,--I wrote you at length and sent it by Don Ferdinand, who 
left to go yonder twenty-three days ago to-day, with the Lord Adelantado 
and Carbajal, from whom I have since heard nothing. Sixteen days ago to-
day I wrote you and sent it by Zamora, the courier, and I sent you a 
letter of credit for these merchants endorsed by Francisco de Ribarol, 
telling them to give you the money you might ask for. And then, about 
eight days ago, I sent you by another courier a letter endorsed by 
Francisco Soria, and these letters are directed to Pantaleon and Agostin 
Italian, that they may give it to you. And with these letters goes a copy 
of a letter which I wrote to the Holy Father in regard to the affairs of 
the Indies, that he might not complain of me any more. I sent this copy 
for his Highness to see, or the Lord Bishop of Palencia, so as to avoid 
false representations. The payment of the people who went with me has been 
delayed. I have provided for them here what I have been able. They are 
poor and obliged to go in order to earn a living. They decided to go 
yonder. They have been told here that they will be dealt with as 
favourably as possible, and this is right, although among them there are 
some who merit punishment more than favours. This is said of the rebels. I 
gave these people a letter for the Lord Bishop of Palencia. Read it, and 
if it is necessary for them to go and petition his Highness, urge your 
uncle and brother and Carbajal to read it also, so that you can all help 
them as much as possible. It is right and a work of mercy, for no one ever 
earned money with so many dangers and hardships and no one has ever 
rendered such great service as these people. It is said that Camacho and 
Master Bernal wish to go there--two creatures for whom God works few 
miracles: but if they go, it will be to do harm rather than good. They can 
do little because the truth always prevails, as it did in Espanola, from 
which wicked people by means of falsehoods have prevented any profit being 
received up to the present time. It is said that this Master Bernal was 
the beginning of the treason. He was taken and accused of many 
misdemeanours, for each one of which he deserved to be quartered. At the 
request of your uncle and of others he was pardoned, on condition that if 
he ever said the least word against me and my state the pardon should be 
revoked and he should be under condemnation. I send you a copy of the case 
in this letter. I send you a legal document about Camacho. For more than 
eight days he has not left the church on account of his rash statements 
and falsehoods. He has a will made by Terreros, and other relatives of the 
latter have another will of more recent date, which renders the first will 
null, as far as the inheritance is concerned: and I am entreated to 
enforce the latter will, so that Camacho will be obliged to restore what 
he has received. I shall order a legal document drawn up and served upon 
him, because I believe it is a work of mercy to punish him, as he is so 
unbridled in his speech that some one must punish him without the rod: and 
it will not be so much against the conscience of the chastiser, and will 
injure him more. Diego Mendez knows Master Bernal and his works very well. 
The Governor wished to imprison him at Espanola and left him to my 
consideration. It is said that he killed two men there with medicines in 
revenge for something of less account than three beans. I would be glad of 
the licence to travel on muleback and of a good mule, if they can be 
obtained without difficulty. Consult all about our affairs, and tell them 
that I do not write them in particular on account of the great pain I feel 
when writing. I do not say that they must do the same, but that each one 
must write me and very often, for I feel great sorrow that all the world 
should have letters from there each day, and I have nothing, when I have 
so many people there. Commend me to the Lord Adelantado in his favour, and 
give my regards to your brother and to all the others. 

"Done at Seville, December 29. 
"Your father who loves you more than himself. 
".S. .S.A.S. XMY Xpo FERENS." 

"I say further that if our affairs are to be settled according to 
conscience, that the chapter of the letter which their Highnesses wrote me 
when I departed, in which they say they will order you placed in 
possession, must be shown; and the writing must also be shown which is in 
the Book of Privileges, which shows how in reason and in justice the third 
and eighth and the tenth are mine. There will always be opportunity to 
make reductions from this amount." 

Columbus's requests were not all for himself; nothing could be more 
sincere or generous than the spirit in which he always strove to secure 
the just payment of his mariners. 

Otherwise he is still concerned with the favour shown to those who were 
treasonable to him. Camacho was still hiding in a church, probably from 
the wrath of Bartholomew Columbus; but Christopher has more subtle ways of 
punishment. A legal document, he considers, will be better than a rod; "it 
will not be so much against the conscience of the chastiser, and will 
injure him (the chastised) more." 

Letter written by CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS to DON DIEGO, his Son, January 18, 
1505. 

"VERY DEAR SON,--I wrote you at length by the courier who will arrive 
there to-day, and sent you a letter for the Lord Chamberlain. I intended 
to inclose in it a copy of that chapter of the letter from their 
Highnesses in which they say they will order you placed in possession; but 
I forgot to do it here. Zamora, the courier, came. I read your letter and 
also those of your uncle and brother and Carbajal, and felt great pleasure 
in learning that they had arrived well, as I had been very anxious about 
them. Diego Mendez will leave here in three or four days with the order of 
payment prepared. He will take a long statement of everything and I will 
write to Juan Velasquez. I desire his friendship and service. I believe 
that he is a very honourable gentleman. If the Lord Bishop of Palencia has 
come, or comes, tell him how much pleased I have been with his prosperity, 
and that if I go there I must stop with his Worship even if he does not 
wish it, and that we must return to our first fraternal love. And that he 
could not refuse it because my service will force him to have it thus. I 
said that the letter for the Holy Father was sent that his Worship might 
see it if he was there, and also the Lord Archbishop of Seville, as the 
King might not have opportunity to read it. I have already told you that 
the petition to their Highnesses must be for the fulfilment of what they 
wrote me about the possession and of the rest which was promised me. I 
said that this chapter of the letter must be shown them and said that it 
must not be delayed, and that this is advisable for an infinite number of 
reasons. His Highness may believe that, however much he gives me, the 
increase of his exalted dominions and revenue will be in the proportion of 
100 to 1, and that there is no comparison between what has been done and 
what is to be done. The sending of a Bishop to Espanola must be delayed 
until I speak to his Highness. It must not be as in the other cases when 
it was thought to mend matters and they were spoiled. There have been some 
cold days here and they have caused me great fatigue and fatigue me now. 
Commend me to the favour of the Lord Adelantado. May our Lord guard and 
bless you and your brother. Give my regards to Carbajal and Jeronimo. 
Diego Mendez will carry a full pouch there. I believe that the affair of 
which you wrote can be very easily managed. The vessels from the Indies 
have not arrived from Lisbon. They brought a great deal of gold, and none 
for me. So great a mockery was never seen, for I left there 60,000 pesos 
smelted. His Highness should not allow so great an affair to be ruined, as 
is now taking place. He now sends to the Governor a new provision. I do 
not know what it is about. I expect letters each day. Be very careful 
about expenditures, for it is necessary. 

"Done January 18.
"Your father who loves you more than himself."

There is playful reference here to Fonseca, with whom Columbus was 
evidently now reconciled; and he was to be buttonholed and made to read 
the Admiral's letter to the Pope. Diego Mendez is about to start, and is 
to make a "long statement"; and in the meantime the Admiral will write as 
many long letters as he has time for. Was there no friend at hand, I 
wonder, with wit enough to tell the Admiral that every word he wrote about 
his grievances was sealing his doom, so far as the King was concerned.? No 
human being could have endured with patience this continuous heavy firing 
at long range to which the Admiral subjected his friends at Court; every 
post that arrived was loaded with a shrapnel of grievances, the dull echo 
of which must have made the ears of those who heard it echo with 
weariness. Things were evidently humming in Espanola; large cargoes of 
negroes had been sent out to take the place of the dead natives, and under 
the harsh driving of Ovando the mines were producing heavily. The vessels 
that arrived from the Indies brought a great deal of gold; "but none for 
me." 

Letter written by CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS to his Son, DON DIEGO, February 5, 
1505. 

"VERY DEAR SON,--Diego Mendez left here Monday, the 3rd of this month. 
After his departure I talked with Amerigo Vespucci, the bearer of this 
letter, who is going yonder, where he is called in regard to matters of 
navigation. He was always desirous of pleasing me. He is a very honourable 
man. Fortune has been adverse to him as it has been to many others. His 
labours have not profited him as much as reason demands. He goes for me, 
and is very desirous of doing something to benefit me if it is in his 
power. I do not know of anything in which I can instruct him to my 
benefit, because I do not know what is wanted of him there. He is going 
with the determination to do everything for me in his power. See what he 
can do to profit me there, and strive to have him do it; for he will do 
everything, and will speak and will place it in operation: and it must all 
be done secretly so that there may be no suspicion. 

"I have told him all that could be told regarding this matter, and have 
informed him of the payment which has been made to me and is being made. 
This letter is for the Lord Adelantado also, that he may see how Amerigo 
Vespucci can be useful, and advise him about it. His Highness may believe 
that his ships went to the best and richest of the Indies, and if anything 
remains to be learned more than has been told, I will give the information 
yonder verbally, because it is impossible to give it in writing. May our 
Lord have you in his Holy keeping. 

"Done in Seville, February 5. 
"Your father who loves you more than himself."

This letter has a significance which raises it out of the ruck of this 
complaining correspondence. Amerigo Vespucci had just returned from his 
long voyage in the West, when he had navigated along an immense stretch of 
the coast of America, both north and south, and had laid the foundations 
of a fame which was, for a time at least, to eclipse that of Columbus. 
Probably neither of the two men realised it at this interview, or Columbus 
would hardly have felt so cordially towards the man who was destined to 
rob him of so much glory. As a matter of fact the practical Spaniards were 
now judging entirely by results; and a year or two later, when the fame of 
Columbus had sunk to insignificance, he was merely referred to as the 
discoverer of certain islands, while Vespucci, who after all had only 
followed in his lead, was hailed as the discoverer of a great continent. 
Vespucci has been unjustly blamed for this state of affairs, although he 
could no more control the public estimate of his services than Columbus 
could. He was a more practical man than Columbus, and he made a much 
better impression on really wise and intelligent men; and his discoveries 
were immediately associated with trade and colonial development, while 
Columbus had little to show for his discoveries during his lifetime but a 
handful of gold dust and a few cargoes of slaves. At any rate it was a 
graceful act on the part of Vespucci, whose star was in the ascendant, to 
go and seek out the Admiral, whose day was fast verging to night; it was 
one of those disinterested actions that live and have a value of their 
own, and that shine out happily amid the surrounding murk and confusion. 

Letter signed by CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS to DON DIEGO, his Son, February 25, 
1505. 

"VERY DEAR SON,--The Licientiate de Zea is a person whom I desire to 
honour. He has in his charge two men who are under prosecution at the 
hands of justice, as shown by the information which is inclosed in this 
letter. See that Diego Mendez places the said petition with the others, 
that they may be given to his Highness during Holy Week for pardon. If the 
pardon is granted, it is well, and if not, look for some other manner of 
obtaining it. May our Lord have you in His Holy keeping. Done in Seville, 
February 25, 1505. I wrote you and sent it by Amerigo Vespucci. See that 
he sends you the letter unless you have already received it. 

"Your father. Xpo FERENS.//" 

This is the last letter of Columbus known to us otherwise an entirely 
unimportant document, dealing with the most transient affairs. With it we 
gladly bring to an end this exposure of a greedy and querulous period, 
which speaks so eloquently for itself that the less we say and comment on 
it the better. 

In the month of May the Admiral was well enough at last to undertake the 
journey to Segovia. He travelled on a mule, and was accompanied by his 
brother Bartholomew and his son Ferdinand. When he reached the Court he 
found the King civil and outwardly attentive to his recitals, but 
apparently content with a show of civility and outward attention. Columbus 
was becoming really a nuisance; that is the melancholy truth. The King had 
his own affairs to attend to; he was already meditating a second marriage, 
and thinking of the young bride he was to bring home to the vacant place 
of Isabella; and the very iteration of Columbus's complaints and demands 
had made them lose all significance for the King. He waved them aside with 
polite and empty promises, as people do the demands of importunate 
children; and finally, to appease the Admiral and to get rid of the 
intolerable nuisance of his applications, he referred the whole question, 
first to Archbishop DEA, and then to the body of councillors which had 
been appointed to interpret Queen Isabella's will. The whole question at 
issue was whether or not the original agreement with Columbus, which had 
been made before his discoveries, should be carried out. The King, who had 
foolishly subscribed to it simply as a matter of form, never believing 
that anything much could come of it, was determined that it should not be 
carried out, as it would give Columbus a wealth and power to which no mere 
subject of a crown was entitled. The Admiral held fast to his privileges; 
the only thing that he would consent to submit to arbitration was the 
question of his revenues; but his titles and territorial authorities he 
absolutely stuck to. Of course the council did exactly what the King had 
done. They talked about the thing a great deal, but they did nothing. 
Columbus was an invalid and broken man, who might die any day, and it was 
obviously to their interest to gain time by discussion and delay--a cruel 
game for our Christopher, who knew his days on earth to be numbered, and 
who struggled in that web of time in which mortals try to hurry the events 
of the present and delay the events of the future. Meanwhile Philip of 
Austria and his wife Juana, Isabella's daughter, had arrived from Flanders 
to assume the crown of Castile, which Isabella had bequeathed to them. 
Columbus saw a chance for himself in this coming change, and he sent 
Bartholomew as an envoy to greet the new Sovereigns, and to enlist their 
services on the Admiral's behalf. Bartholomew was very well received, but 
he was too late to be of use to the Admiral, whom he never saw again; and 
this is our farewell to Bartholomew, who passes out of our narrative here. 
He went to Rome after Christopher's death on a mission to the Pope 
concerning some fresh voyages of discovery; and in 1508 he made, so far as 
we know, his one excursion into romance, when he assisted at the 
production of an illegitimate little girl--his only descendant. He 
returned to Espanola under the governorship of his nephew Diego, and died 
there in 1514-- stern, valiant, brotherly soul, whose devotion to 
Christopher must be for ever remembered and honoured with the name of the 
Admiral. 

From Segovia Columbus followed the Court to Salamanca and thence to 
Valladolid, where his increasing illness kept him a prisoner after the 
Court had left to greet Philip and Juana. He had been in attendance upon 
it for nearly a year, and without any results: and now, as his infirmity 
increased, he turned to the settling of his own affairs, and drawing up of 
wills and codicils--all very elaborate and precise. In these occupations 
his worldly affairs were duly rounded off; and on May 19, 1506, having 
finally ratified a will which he had made in Segovia a year before, in 
which the descent of his honours was entailed upon Diego and his heirs, or 
failing him Ferdinand and his heirs, or failing him Bartholomew and his 
heirs, he turned to the settlement of his soul. 

His illness had increased gradually but surely, and he must have known 
that he was dying. He was not without friends, among them the faithful 
Diego Mendez, his son Ferdinand, and a few others. His lodging was in a 
small house in an unimportant street of Valladolid, now called the "Calle 
de Colon"; the house, .No. 7, still standing, and to be seen by curious 
eyes. As the end approached, the Admiral, who was being attended by 
Franciscan monks, had himself clothed in a Franciscan habit; and so, on 
the 20th May 1506, he lay upon his bed, breathing out his life. 

. . . And as strange thoughts Grow with a certain humming in my ears, 
About the life before I lived this life, And this life too, Popes, 
Cardinals, and priests, Your tall pale mother with her talking eyes And 
new-found agate urns fresh as day . . . 

. . . we do not know what his thoughts were, as the shadows grew deeper 
about him, as the sounds of the world, the noises from the sunny street, 
grew fainter, and the images and sounds of memory clearer and louder. 
Perhaps as he lay there with closed eyes he remembered things long 
forgotten, as dying people do; sounds and smells of the Vico Dritto di 
Ponticelli, and the feel of the hot paving-stones down which his childish 
feet used to run to the sea; noises of the sea also, the drowning swish of 
waters and sudden roar of breakers sounding to anxiously strained ears in 
the still night; bright sunlit pictures of faraway tropical shores, with 
handsome olive figures glistening in the sun; the sight of strange faces, 
the sound of strange speech, the smell of a strange land; the glitter of 
gold; the sudden death-shriek breaking the stillness of some sylvan glade; 
the sight of blood on the grass . . . . The Admiral's face undergoes a 
change; there is a stir in the room; some one signs to the priest Gaspar, 
who brings forth his sacred wafer and holy oils and administers the last 
sacraments. The wrinkled eyelids flutter open, the sea-worn voice feebly 
frames the responses; the dying eyes are fixed on the crucifix; and--"In 
manus tuas Domine commendo spiritum meum." The Admiral is dead. 

He was in his fifty-sixth year, already an old man in body and mind; and 
his death went entirely unmarked except by his immediate circle of 
friends. Even Peter Martyr, who was in Valladolid just before and just 
after it, and who was writing a series of letters to various 
correspondents giving all the news of his day, never thought it worth 
while to mention that Christopher Columbus was dead. His life flickered 
out in the completest obscurity. It is not even known where he was first 
buried; but probably it was in the Franciscan convent at Valladolid. This, 
however, was only a temporary resting-place; and a few years later his 
body was formally interred in the choir of the monastery of Las Cuevas at 
Seville, there to lie for thirty years surrounded by continual chauntings. 
After that it was translated to the cathedral in San Domingo; rested there 
for 250 years, and then, on the cession of that part of the island to 
France, the body was removed to Cuba. But the Admiral was by this time 
nothing but a box of bones and dust, as also were brother Bartholomew and 
son Diego, and Diego's son, all collected together in that place. There 
were various examinations of the bone- boxes; one, supposed to be the 
Admiral's, was taken to Cuba and solemnly buried there; and lately, after 
the conquest of the island in the Spanish-American War, this box of bones 
was elaborately conveyed to Seville, where it now rests. 

But in the meanwhile the Chapter of the cathedral in San Domingo had made 
new discoveries and examinations; had found another box of bones, which 
bore to them authentic signs that the dust it contained was the Admiral's 
and not his grandson's; and in spite of the Academy of History at Madrid, 
it is indeed far from unlikely that the Admiral's dust does not lie in 
Spain or Cuba, but in San Domingo still. Whole books have been written 
about these boxes of bones; learned societies have argued about them, 
experts have examined the bones and the boxes with microscopes; and 
meantime the dust of Columbus, if we take the view that an error was 
committed in the transference to Cuba, is not even collected all in one 
box. A sacrilegious official acquired some of it when the boxes were 
opened, and distributed it among various curiosity-hunters, who have 
preserved it in caskets of crystal and silver. Thus a bit of him is worn 
by an American lady in a crystal locket; a pinch of him lies in a glass 
vial in a New York mansion; other pinches in the Lennox Library, New York, 
in the Vatican, and in the University of Pavia. In such places, if the 
Admiral should fail to appear at the first note of their trumpets, must 
the Angels of the Resurrection make search.



CHAPTER X.
THE MAN COLUMBUS 

It is not in any leaden box or crystal vase that we must search for the 
true remains of Christopher Columbus. Through these pages we have traced, 
so far as has been possible, the course of his life, and followed him in 
what he did; all of which is but preparation for our search for the true 
man, and just estimate of what he was. We have seen, dimly, what his youth 
was; that he came of poor people who were of no importance to the world at 
large; that he earned his living as a working man; that he became 
possessed of an Idea; that he fought manfully and diligently until he had 
realised it; and that then he found himself in a position beyond his 
powers to deal with, not being a strong enough swimmer to hold his own in 
the rapid tide of events which he himself had set flowing; and we have 
seen him sinking at last in that tide, weighed down by the very things for 
which he had bargained and stipulated. If these pages had been devoted to 
a critical examination of the historical documents on which his life-story 
is based we should also have found that he continually told lies about 
himself, and misrepresented facts when the truth proved inconvenient to 
him; that he was vain and boastful to a degree that can only excite our 
compassion. He was naturally and sincerely pious, and drew from his 
religion much strength and spiritual nourishment; but he was also capable 
of hypocrisy, and of using the self- same religion as a cloak for his 
greed and cruelty. What is the final image that remains in our minds of 
such a man? To answer this question we must examine his life in three 
dimensions. There was its great outline of rise, zenith, and decline; 
there was its outward history in minute detail, and its conduct in varying 
circumstances; and there was the inner life of the man's soul, which was 
perhaps simpler than some of us think. And first, as to his life as a 
single thing. It rose in poverty, it reached a brief and dazzling zenith 
of glory, it set in clouds and darkness; the fame of it suffered a long 
night of eclipse, from which it was rescued and raised again to a height 
of glory which unfortunately was in sufficiently founded on fact; and as a 
reaction from this, it has been in danger of becoming entirely 
discredited, and the man himself denounced as a fraud. The reason for 
these surprising changes is that in those fifty-five years granted to 
Columbus for the making of his life he did not consistently listen to that 
inner voice which alone can hold a man on any constructive path. He 
listened to it at intervals, and he drew his inspiration from it; but he 
shut his ears when it had served him, when it had brought him what he 
wanted. In his moments of success he guided himself by outward things; and 
thus he was at one moment a seer and ready to be a martyr, and at the next 
moment he was an opportunist, watching to see which way the wind would 
blow, and ready to trim his sails in the necessary direction. Such conduct 
of a man's life does not make for single light or for true greatness; 
rather for dim, confused lights, and lofty heights obscured in cloud. 

If we examine his life in detail we find this alternating principle of 
conduct revealed throughout it. He was by nature clever, kind-hearted, 
rather large-souled, affectionate, and not very honest; all the acts 
prompted by his nature bear the stamp of these qualities. To them his 
early years had probably added little except piety, sharp practice, and 
that uncomfortable sense, often bred amid narrow and poor surroundings, 
that one must keep a sharp look-out for oneself if one is to get a share 
of the world's good things. Something in his blood, moreover, craved for 
dignity and the splendour of high-sounding titles; craved for power also, 
and the fulfilment of an arrogant pride. All these things were in his 
Ligurian blood, and he breathed them in with the very air of Genoa. His 
mind was of the receptive rather than of the constructive kind, and it was 
probably through those long years spent between sea voyages and brief 
sojourns with his family in Genoa or Savona that he conceived that vague 
Idea which, as I have tried to show, formed the impulse of his life during 
its brief initiative period. Having once received this Idea of discovery 
and like all other great ideas, it was in the air at the time and was 
bound to take shape in some human brain--he had all his native and 
personal qualities to bring to its support. The patience to await its 
course he had learned from his humble and subordinate life. The ambition 
to work for great rewards was in his blood and race; and to belief in 
himself, his curious vein of mystical piety was able to add the support of 
a ready belief in divine selection. This very time of waiting and 
endurance of disappointments also helped to cultivate in his character two 
separate qualities--an endurance or ability to withstand infinite hardship 
and disappointment; and also a greedy pride that promised itself great 
rewards for whatever should be endured. 

In all active matters Columbus was what we call a lucky man. It was luck 
that brought him to Guanahani; and throughout his life this element of 
good luck continually helped him. He was lucky, that is to say, in his 
relation with inanimate things; but in his relations with men he was 
almost as consistently unlucky. First of all he was probably a bad judge 
of men. His humble origin and his lack of education naturally made him 
distrustful. He trusted people whom he should have regarded with 
suspicion, and he was suspicious of those whom he ought to have known he 
could trust. If people pleased him, he elevated them with absurd rapidity 
to stations far beyond their power to fill, and then wondered that they 
sometimes turned upon him; if they committed crimes against him, he either 
sought to regain their favour by forgiving them, or else dogged them with 
a nagging, sulky resentment, and expected every one else to punish them 
also. He could manage men if he were in the midst of them; there was 
something winning as well as commanding about his actual presence, and 
those who were devoted to him would have served him to the death. But when 
he was not on the spot all his machineries and affairs went to pieces; he 
had no true organising ability; no sooner did he take his hand off any 
affair for which he was responsible than it immediately came to confusion. 
All these defects are to be attributed to his lack of education and 
knowledge of the world. Mental discipline is absolutely necessary for a 
man who would discipline others; and knowledge of the world is essential 
for one who would successfully deal with men, and distinguish those whom 
he can from those whom he cannot trust. Defects of this nature, which 
sometimes seem like flaws in the man's character, may be set down to this 
one disability--that he was not educated and was not by habit a man of the 
world. 

All his sins of misgovernment, then, may be condoned on the ground that 
governing is a science, and that Columbus had never learned it. What we do 
find, however, is that the inner light that had led him across the seas 
never burned clearly for him again, and was never his guide in the later 
part of his life. Its radiance was quenched by the gleam of gold; for 
there is no doubt that Columbus was a victim of that baleful influence 
which has caused so much misery in this world. He was greedy of gold for 
himself undoubtedly; but he was still more greedy of it for Spain. It was 
his ambition to be the means of filling the coffers of the Spanish 
Sovereigns and so acquiring immense dignity and glory for himself. He 
believed that gold was in itself a very precious and estimable thing; he 
knew that masses and candles could be bought for it, and very real 
spiritual privileges; and as he made blunder after blunder, and saw evil 
after evil heaping itself on his record in the New World, he became the 
more eager and frantic to acquire such a treasure of gold that it would 
wipe out the other evils of his administration. And once involved in that 
circle, there was no help for him. 

The man himself was a simple man; capable, when the whole of his various 
qualities were directed upon one single thing, of that greatness which is 
the crown of simplicity. Ambition was the keynote of his life; not an 
unworthy keynote, by any means, if only the ambition be sound; but one 
serious defect of Columbus's ambition was that it was retrospective rather 
than perspective. He may have had, before he sailed from Palos, an 
ambition to be the discoverer of a New World; but I do not think he had. 
He believed there were islands or land to be discovered in the West if 
only he pushed on far enough; and he was ambitious to find them and 
vindicate his belief. Afterwards, when he had read a little more, and when 
he conceived the plan of pretending that he had all along meant to 
discover the Indies and a new road to the East, he acted in accordance 
with that pretence; he tried to make his acts appear retrospectively as 
though they had been prompted by a design quite different from that by 
which they had really been prompted. When he found that his discovery was 
regarded as a great scientific feat, he made haste to pretend that it had 
all along been meant as such, and was in fact the outcome of an elaborate 
scientific theory. In all this there is nothing for praise or admiration. 
It indicates the presence of moral disease; but fortunately it is 
functional rather than organic disease. He was right and sound at heart; 
but he spread his sails too readily to the great winds of popular favour, 
and the result was instability to himself, and often danger of shipwreck 
to his soul. 

The ultimate test of a man's character is how he behaves in certain 
circumstances when there is no great audience to watch him, and when there 
is no sovereign close at hand with bounties and rewards to offer. In a 
word, what matters most is a man's behaviour, not as an admiral, or a 
discoverer, or a viceroy, or a courtier, but as a man. In this respect 
Columbus's character rings true. If he was little on little occasions, he 
was also great on great occasions. The inner history of his fourth voyage, 
if we could but know it and could take all the circumstances into account, 
would probably reveal a degree of heroic endurance that has never been 
surpassed in the history of mankind. Put him as a man face to face with a 
difficulty, with nothing but his wits to devise with and his two hands to 
act with, and he is never found wanting. And that is the kind of man of 
whom discoverers are made. The mere mathematician may work out the facts 
with the greatest accuracy and prove the existence of land at a certain 
point; but there is great danger that he may be knocked down by a club on 
his first landing on the beach, and never bring home any news of his 
discovery. The great courtier may do well for himself and keep smooth and 
politic relations with kings; the great administrator may found a 
wonderful colony; but it is the man with the wits and the hands, and some 
bigness of heart to tide him over daunting passages, that wins through the 
first elementary risks of any great discovery. Properly considered, 
Columbus's fame should rest simply on the answer to the single question, 
"Did he discover new lands as he said he would?" That was the greatest 
thing he could do, and the fact that he failed to do a great many other 
things afterwards, failed the more conspicuously because his attempts were 
so conspicuous, should have no effect on our estimate of his achievement. 
The fame of it could no more be destroyed by himself than it can be 
destroyed by us. 

True understanding of a man and estimate of his character can only be 
arrived at by methods at once more comprehensive and more subtle than 
those commonly employed among men. Everything that he sees, does, and 
suffers has its influence on the moulding of his character; and he must be 
considered in relation to his physical environment, no less than to his 
race and ancestry. Christopher Columbus spent a great part of his active 
life on the sea; it was sea-life which inspired him with his great Idea, 
it was by the conquest of the sea that he realised it; it was on the sea 
that all his real triumphs over circumstance and his own weaker self were 
won. The influences at work upon a man whose life is spent on the sea are 
as different from those at work upon one who lives on the fields as the 
environment of a gannet is different from the environment of a skylark: 
and yet how often do we really attempt to make due allowance for this 
great factor and try to estimate the extent of its moulding influence? 

To live within sound or sight of the sea is to be conscious of a voice or 
countenance that holds you in unyielding bonds. The voice, being 
continuous, creeps into the very pulses and becomes part of the pervading 
sound or silence of a man's environment; and the face, although it never 
regards him, holds him with its changes and occupies his mind with its 
everlasting riddle. Its profound inattention to man is part of its power 
over his imagination; for although it is so absorbed and busy, and has 
regard for sun and stars and a melancholy frowning concentration upon the 
foot of cliffs, it is never face to face with man: he can never come 
within the focus of its great glancing vision. It is somewhere beyond time 
and space that the mighty perspective of those focal rays comes to its 
point; and they are so wide and eternal in their sweep that we should find 
their end, could we but trace them, in a condition far different from that 
in which our finite views and ethics have place. In the man who lives much 
on the sea we always find, if he be articulate, something of the dreamer 
and the mystic; that very condition of mind, indeed, which we have traced 
in Columbus, which sometimes led him to such heights, and sometimes 
brought him to such variance with the human code. 

A face that will not look upon you can never give up its secret to you; 
and the face of the sea is like the face of a picture or a statue round 
which you may circle, looking at it from this point and from that, but 
whose regard is fixed on something beyond and invisible to you; or it is 
like the face of a person well known to you in life, a face which you 
often see in various surroundings, from different angles, now unconscious, 
now in animated and smiling intercourse with some one else, but which 
never turns upon you the light of friendly knowledge and recognition; in a 
word, it is unconscious of you, like all elemental things. In the legend 
of the Creation it is written that when God saw the gathering together of 
the waters which he called the Seas, he saw that it was good; and he 
perhaps had the right to say so. But the man who uses the sea and whose 
life's pathway is laid on its unstable surface can hardly sum up his 
impressions of it so simply as to say that it is good. It is indeed to him 
neither good nor bad; it is utterly beyond and outside all he knows or 
invents of good and bad, and can never have any concern with his good or 
his bad. It remains the pathway and territory of powers and mysteries, 
thoughts and energies on a gigantic and elemental scale; and that is why 
the mind of man can never grapple with the unconsciousness of the sea or 
his eye meet its eye. Yet it is the mariner's chief associate, whether as 
adversary or as ally; his attitude to things outside himself is beyond all 
doubt influenced by his attitude towards it; and a true comprehension of 
the man Columbus must include a recognition of this constant influence on 
him, and of whatever effect lifelong association with so profound and 
mysterious an element may have had on his conduct in the world of men. 
Better than many documents as an aid to our understanding of him would be 
intimate association with the sea, and prolonged contemplation of that 
face with which he was so familiar. We can never know the heart of it, but 
we can at least look upon the face, turned from us though it is, upon 
which he looked. Cloud shadows following a shimmer of sunlit ripples; 
lines and runes traced on the surface of a blank calm; salt laughter of 
purple furrows with the foam whipping off them; tides and eddies, whirls, 
overfalls, ripples, breakers, seas mountains high-they are but movements 
and changing expressions on an eternal countenance that once held his gaze 
and wonder, as it will always hold the gaze and wonder of those who follow 
the sea. 

So much of the man Christopher Columbus, who once was and no longer is; 
perished, to the last bone and fibre of him, off the face of the earth, 
and living now only by virtue of such truth as there was in him; who once 
manfully, according to the light that he had, bore Christ on his shoulders 
across stormy seas, and found him often, in that dim light, a heavy and 
troublesome burden; who dropped light and burden together on the shores of 
his discovery, and set going in that place of peace such a conflagration 
as mankind is not likely to see again for many a generation, if indeed 
ever again, in this much-tortured world, such ancient peace find place.