Palos, within sight of the little convent where he had received his
first encouragement. He embarked in three small vessels, the
largest of which was less thou one hundred tons, and two without
decks, but having high poops and sterns inclosed. What an
insignificant flotilla for such a voyage! But it would seem that
the Admiral, with great sagacity, deemed small vessels best adapted
to his purpose, in order to enter safely shallow harbors and sail
near the coast.
He sails in the most propitious season of the year, and is aided by
steady trade-winds which waft his ships gently through the unknown
ocean. He meets with no obstacles of any account. The skies are
serene, the sea is as smooth as the waters of an inland lake; and
he is comforted, as he advances to the west, by the appearance of
strange birds and weeds and plants that indicate nearness to the
land. He has only two objects of solicitude,--the variations of
the magnetic needle, and the superstitious fears of his men; the
last he succeeds in allaying by inventing plausible theories, and
by concealing the real distance he has traversed. He encourages
them by inflaming their cupidity. He is nearly baffled by their
mutinous spirit. He is in danger, not from coral reefs and
whirlpools and sunken rocks and tempests, as at first was feared,
but from his men themselves, who clamor to return. It is his faith
and moral courage and fertility of resources which we most admire.
Days pass in alternate hope and disappointment, amid angry clamors,
in great anxiety, for no land appears after he has sailed far
beyond the points where he expected to find it. The world is
larger than even he has supposed. He promises great rewards to the
one who shall first see the unknown shores. It is said that he
himself was the first to discover land by observing a flickering
light, which is exceedingly improbable, as he was several leagues
from shore; but certain it is, that the very night the land was
seen from the Admiral's vessel, it was also discovered by one of
the seamen on board another ship. The problem of the age was at
last solved. A new continent was given to Ferdinand and Isabella.
On the 12th of October Columbus lands--not, however, on the
continent, as he supposed, but on an island--in great pomp, as
admiral of the seas and viceroy of the king, in a purple doublet,
and with a drawn sword in one hand and the standard of Spain in the
other, followed by officers in appropriate costume, and a friar
bearing the emblem of our redemption, which is solemnly planted on
the shore, and the land called San Salvador. This little island,
one of the Bahamas, is not, however, gilded with the anticipated
splendors of Oriental countries. He finds neither gold, nor
jewels, nor silks, nor spices, nor any signs of civilization; only
naked men and women, without any indication of wealth or culture or
power. But he finds a soft and genial climate, and a soil of
unparalleled fertility, and trees and shrubs as green as Andalusia
in spring and birds with every variety of plumage, and insects
glistening with every color of the rainbow; while the natives are
gentle and unsuspecting and full of worship. Columbus is
disappointed, but not discouraged. He sets sail to find the real
Cipango of which he is in search. He cruises among the Bahama
islands, discovers Cuba and Hispaniola (now called Hayti), explores
their coasts, holds peaceful intercourse with the natives, and is
transported with enthusiasm in view of the beauty of the country
and its great capacities; but he sees no gold, only a few ornaments
to show that there is gold somewhere near, if it only could be
found. Nor has he reached the Cipango of his dreams, but new
countries, of which there was no record or suspicion of existence,
yet of vast extent, and fertile beyond knowledge. He is puzzled,
but filled with intoxicating joy. He has performed a great feat.
He has doubtless added indefinitely to the dominion of Spain.
Columbus leaves a small colony on the island of Hispaniola, and
with the trophies of his discoveries returns to Spain, without
serious obstacles, except a short detention in Portugal, whither he
was driven by a storm. His stories fill the whole civilized world
with wonder. He is welcomed with the most cordial and enthusiastic
reception; the people gaze at him with admiration. His sovereigns
rise at his approach, and seat him beside themselves on their
gilded and canopied throne; he has made them a present worthy of a
god. What honors could be too great for such a man! Even envy
pales before the universal exhilaration. He enters into the most
august circles as an equal; his dignities and honors are confirmed;
he is loaded with presents and favors; he is the most marked
personage in Europe; he is almost stifled with the incense of royal
and popular idolatry. Never was a subject more honored and
caressed. The imagination of a chivalrous and lively people is
inflamed with the wildest expectations, for although he returned
with but little of the expected wealth, he has pointed out a land
rich in unfathomed mines.
A second and larger expedition is soon projected. Everybody wishes
to join it. All press to join the fortunate admiral who has added
a continent to civilization. The proudest nobles, with the armor
and horses of chivalry, embark with artisans and miners for another
voyage, now without solicitude or fear, but with unbounded hopes of
wealth,--especially hardy adventurers and broken-down families of
rank anxious to retrieve their fortunes. The pendulum of a
nation's thought swings from the extreme of doubt and cynicism to
the opposite extreme of faith and exhilaration. Spain was ripe for
the harvest. Eight hundred years' desperate contest with the Moors
had made the nation bold, heroic, adventurous. There were no such
warriors in all Europe. Nowhere were there such chivalric virtues.
No people were then animated with such martial enthusiasm, such
unfettered imagination, such heroic daring, as were the subjects of
Ferdinand and Isabella. They were a people to conquer a world; not
merely heroic and enterprising, but fresh with religious
enthusiasm. They had expelled the infidels from Spain; they would
fight for the honor of the Cross in any clime or land.
The hopes held out by Columbus were extravagant; and these
extravagant expectations were the occasion of his fall and
subsequent sorrows and humiliation. Doubtless he was sincere, but
he was infatuated. He could only see the gold of Cipango. He was
as confident of enriching his followers as he had been of
discovering new realms. He was as enthusiastic as Sir Walter
Raleigh a century later, and made promises as rash as he, and
created the same exalted hopes, to be followed by bitter
disappointments; and consequently he incurred the same hostilities
and met the same downfall.
This second expedition was undertaken in seventeen vessels,
carrying fifteen hundred people, all full of animation and hope,
and some of them with intentions to settle in the newly discovered
country until they had made their fortunes. They arrived at
Hispaniola in March, of the year 1493, only to discover that the
men left behind on the first voyage to secure their settlement were
all despoiled or murdered; that the natives had proved treacherous,
or that the Spaniards had abused their confidence and forfeited
their friendship. They were exposed to new hostilities: they found
the climate unhealthy; their numbers rapidly dwindled away from
disease or poor food; starvation stared them in the face, in spite
of the fertility of the soil; dissensions and jealousies arose;
they were governed with great difficulty, for the haughty hidalgoes
were unused to menial labor, and labor of the most irksome kind was
necessary; law and order were relaxed. The blame of disaster was
laid upon the Admiral, who was accused of deceiving them; evil
reports were sent to Spain, accusing him of incapacity, cruelty,
and oppression; gold was found only in small quantities; some of
the leading men mutinied; general discontent arose; the greater
part of the colonists were disabled from sickness and debility; no
gold of any amount was sent back to Spain, only five hundred Indian
slaves to be sold instead, which led to renewed hostilities with
the natives, and the necessity for their subjugation. All of these
evils created bitter disappointment in Spain and discontent with
the measures and government of Columbus himself, so that a
commission of inquiry was sent to Hispaniola, headed by Aguado, who
assumed arrogant authority, and made it necessary for Columbus to
return to Spain without adding essentially to his discoveries. He
sailed around Cuba and Jamaica and other islands, but as yet had
not seen the mainland or found mines of gold or silver.
He landed in Spain, in 1496, to find that his popularity had
declined and the old enthusiasm had grown cold. With him landed a
feeble train of emaciated men, who had nothing to relate but
sickness, hardship, and disappointment. The sovereigns, however,
received him kindly; but he was depressed and sad, and clothed
himself with the habit of a Franciscan friar, to denote his
humility and dejection. He displayed a few golden collars and
bracelets as trophies, with some Indians; but these no longer
dazzled the crowd.
It was not until 1498 that Columbus was enabled to make his third
voyage, having experienced great delay from the general
disappointment. Instead of seventeen vessels, he could collect but
six. In this voyage he reached the mainland,--that part called
Paria, near the mouth of the Orinoco, in South America, but he
supposed it to be an island. It was fruitful and populous, and the
air was sweetened with the perfumes of flowers. Yet he did not
explore the coast to any extent, but made his way to Hispaniola,
where he had left the discontented colony himself broken in health,
a victim of gout, haggard from anxiety, and emaciated by pain. His
splendid constitution was now undermined from his various hardships
and cares.
He found the colony in a worse state than when he left it under the
care of his brother Bartholomew. The Indians had proved hostile;
the colonists were lazy and turbulent; mutiny had broken out;
factions prevailed, as well as general misery and discontent. The
horrors of famine had succeeded wars with the natives. There was a
general desire to leave the settlement. Columbus tried to restore
order and confidence; but the difficulty of governing such a
disorderly set of adventurers was too great even for him. He was
obliged to resort to severities that made him more and more
unpopular. The complaints of his enemies reached Spain. He was
most cruelly misrepresented and slandered; and in the general
disappointment, and the constant drain upon the mother country to
support the colony, his enemies gained the ear of his sovereigns,
and strong doubts arose in their minds about his capacity for
government. So a royal commission was sent out,--an officer named
Bovadilla, with absolute power to examine into the state of the
colony, and supplant, if necessary, the authority of Columbus. The
result was the arrest of Columbus and his brothers, who were sent
to Spain in chains. What a change of fortune! I will not detail
the accusations against him, just, or unjust. It is mournful
enough to see the old man brought home in irons from the world he
had discovered and given to Spain. The injustice and cruelty which
he received produced a reaction, and he was once more kindly
received at court, with the promise that his grievances should be
redressed and his property and dignities restored.
Columbus was allowed to make one more voyage of discovery, but
nothing came of it except renewed troubles, hardships, dangers, and
difficulties; wars with the natives, perils of the sea,
discontents, disappointments; and when at last he returned to
Spain, in 1504,--broken with age and infirmities, after twelve
years of harassing cares, labors, and dangers (a checkered career
of glory and suffering),--nothing remained but to prepare for his
final rest. He had not made a fortune; he had not enriched his
patrons,--but he had discovered a continent. His last days were
spent in disquieting and fruitless negotiations to perpetuate his
honors among his descendants. He was ever jealous and tenacious of
his dignities. Ferdinand was polite, but selfish and cold; nor can
this calculating prince ever be vindicated from the stain of gross
ingratitude. Columbus died in the year 1506, at the age of sixty,
a disappointed man. But honors were ultimately bestowed upon his
heirs, who became grandees and dukes, and intermarried with the
proudest families of Spain; and it is also said that Ferdinand
himself, after the death of the great navigator, caused a monument
to be erected to his memory with this inscription: "To Castile and
Leon Columbus gave a new world." But no man of that century needed
less than Columbus a monument to perpetuate his immortal fame.
I think that historians belittle Columbus when they would excite
our pity for his misfortunes. They insult the dignity of all
struggling souls, and make utilitarians of all benefactors, and
give false views of success. Few benefactors, on the whole, were
ever more richly rewarded than he. He died Admiral of the Seas, a
grandee of Spain,--having bishops for his eulogists and princes for
his mourners,--the founder of an illustrious house, whose name and
memory gave glory even to the Spanish throne. And even if he had
not been rewarded with material gains, it was enough to feel that
he had conferred a benefit on the world which could scarcely be
appreciated in his lifetime,--a benefit so transcendent that its
results could be seen only by future generations. Who could
adequately pay him for his services; who could estimate the value
of his gift? What though they load him to-day with honors, or cast
him tomorrow into chains?--that is the fate of all immortal
benefactors since our world began. His great soul should have
soared beyond vulgar rewards. In the loftiness of his self-
consciousness he should have accepted, without a murmur, whatever
fortune awaited him. Had he merely given to civilization a new
style of buttons, or an improved envelope, or a punch for a railway
conductor, or a spring for a carriage, or a mining tool, or a
screw, or revolver, or reaper, the inventors of which have "seen
millions in them," and been cheated out of his gains, he might have
whimpered over his wrongs. How few benefactors have received even
as much as he; for he won dignities, admiration, and undying fame.
We scarcely know the names of many who have made grand bequests.
Who invented the mariner's compass? Who gave the lyre to primeval
ages, or the blacksmith's forge, or the letters of the alphabet, or
the arch in architecture, or glass for windows? Who solved the
first problem of geometry? Who first sang the odes which Homer
incorporated with the Iliad? Who first turned up the earth with a
plough? Who first used the weaver's shuttle? Who devised the
cathedrals of the Middle Ages? Who gave the keel to ships? Who
was the first that raised bread by yeast? Who invented chimneys?
But all ages will know that Columbus discovered America; and his
monuments are in every land, and his greatness is painted by the
ablest historians.
But I will not enlarge on the rewards Columbus received, or the
ingratitude which succeeded them, by force of envy or from the
disappointment of worldly men in not realizing all the gold that he
promised. Let me allude to the results of his discovery.
The first we notice was the marvellous stimulus to maritime
adventures. Europe was inflamed with a desire to extend
geographical knowledge, or add new countries to the realms of
European sovereigns.
Within four years of the discovery of the West India Islands by
Columbus, Cabot had sailed past Newfoundland, and Vasco da Gama had
doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and laid the foundation of the
Portuguese empire in the East Indies. In 1499 Ojeda, one of the
companions of Columbus, and Amerigo Vespucci discovered Brazil. In
1500 Cortereal, a Portuguese, explored the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
In 1505 Francesco de Almeira established factories along the coast
of Malabar. In 1510 the Spaniards formed settlements on the
mainland at Panama. In 1511 the Portuguese established themselves
at Malacca. In 1513 Balboa crossed the Isthmus of Darien and
reached the Pacific Ocean. The year after that, Ponce de Leon had
visited Florida. In 1515 the Rio de la Plata was navigated; and
in 1517 the Portuguese had begun to trade with China and Bengal.
As early as 1520 Cortes had taken Mexico, and completed the
conquest of that rich country the following year. In 1522 Cano
circumnavigated the globe. In 1524 Pizarro discovered Peru, which
in less than twelve years was completely subjugated,--the year when
California was discovered by Cortes. In 1542 the Portuguese were
admitted to trade with Japan. In 1576 Frobisher sought a North-
western passage to India; and the following year Sir Francis Drake
commenced his more famous voyages under the auspices of Elizabeth.
In 1578 Sir Humphrey Gilbert colonized Virginia, followed rapidly
by other English settlements, until before the century closed the
whole continent was colonized either by Spaniards, or Portuguese,
or English, or French, or Dutch. All countries came in to share
the prizes held out by the discovery of the New World.
Colonization followed the voyages of discovery. It was animated by
the hope of finding gold and precious stones. It was carried on
under great discouragements and hardships and unforeseen
difficulties. As a general thing, the colonists were not
accustomed to manual labor; they were adventurers and broken-down
dependents on great families, who found restraint irksome and the
drudgeries of their new life almost unendurable. Nor did they
intend, at the outset, permanent settlements; they expected to
accumulate gold and silver, and then return to their country. They
had sought to improve their condition, and their condition became
forlorn. They were exposed to sickness from malaria, poor food,
and hardship; they were molested by the natives whom they
constantly provoked; they were subject to cruel treatment on the
part of royal governors. They melted away wherever they settled,
by famine, disease, and war, whether in South or North America.
They were discontented and disappointed, and not easily governed;
the chieftains quarrelled with each other, and were disgraced by
rapacity and cruelty. They did not find what they expected. They
were lonely and desolate, and longed to return to the homes they
had left, but were frequently without means to return,--doomed to
remain where they were, and die. Colonization had no dignity until
men went to the New World for religious liberty, or to work upon
the soil. The conquest of Mexico and Peru, however, opened up the
mining of gold and silver, which were finally found in great
abundance. And when the richness of these countries in the
precious metals was finally established, then a regular stream of
emigrants flocked to the American shores. Gold was at last found,
but not until thousands had miserably perished.
The mines of Mexico and Peru undoubtedly enriched Spain, and filled
Europe with envy and emulation. A stream of gold flowed to the
mother country, and the caravels which transported the treasures of
the new world became objects of plunder to all nations hostile to
Spain. The seas were full of pirates. Sir Francis Drake was an
undoubted pirate, and returned, after his long voyage around the
world, with immense treasure, which he had stolen. Then followed,
with the eager search after gold and silver, a rapid demoralization
in all maritime countries.
It would be interesting to show how the sudden accumulation of
wealth by Spain led to luxury, arrogance, and idleness, followed by
degeneracy and decay, since those virtues on which the strength of
man is based are weakened by sudden wealth. Industry declined in
proportion as Spain became enriched by the precious metals. But
this inquiry is foreign to my object.
A still more interesting inquiry arises, how far the nations of
Europe were really enriched by the rapid accumulation of gold and
silver. The search for the precious metals may have stimulated
commercial enterprise, but it is not so clear that it added to the
substantial wealth of Europe, except so far as it promoted
industry. Gold is not wealth; it is simply the exponent of wealth.
Real wealth is in farms and shops and ships,--in the various
channels of industry, in the results of human labor. So far as the
precious metals enter into useful manufactures, or into articles of
beauty and taste, they are indeed inherently valuable. Mirrors,
plate, jewelry, watches, gilded furniture, the adornments of the
person, in an important sense, constitute wealth, since all nations
value them, and will pay for them as they do for corn or oil. So
far as they are connected with art, they are valuable in the same
sense as statues and pictures, on which labor has been expended.
There is something useful, and even necessary, besides food and
raiment and houses. The gold which ornamented Solomon's temple, or
the Minerva of Phidias, or the garments of Leo X., had a value.
The ring which is a present to brides is a part of a marriage
ceremony. The golden watch, which never tarnishes, is more
valuable inherently than a pewter one, because it remains
beautiful. Thus when gold enters into ornaments deemed
indispensable, or into manufactures which are needed, it has an
inherent value,--it is wealth.