ABOUT THE HAPPY ITALIAN WHO WISHED TO SEE THE WORLD.--BEAUTIFUL SEVILLE!
We should have known but little of the adventures of Magellan, but for
Antonia Pigafetta, Chevalier, and Knight of Rhodes.
He was a young Italian of a susceptible heart and happy imagination.
He came wandering to Barcelona, Spain, in the generation that remembered
Columbus, and the splendid scenes that welcomed the return of Columbus
on the field of Sante Fe. He must have heard the enthralling description
of those golden days--he could not be a Columbus; but, if he could win
the good will of Magellan, he might go after Columbus and see what no
Europeans had seen.
So he wandered the streets of Barcelona and heard the tales of the
events that occurred when the "Viceroy of the Isles" was received there
by Isabella.
What days those had been! The march of Columbus through Spain to meet
Isabella at Sante Fe, was such as had a demigod appeared on earth.
Spain was thrilled. The world knew no night. The trumpets of heralds
rent the air, and men's hearts swelled high at the tales of the golden
empires that Colon had added to Aragon and Castile. Alas! they did not
know that there are riches which do not enrich, and that it is only the
gold that does good that ennobles.
As Columbus approached with his glittering cavaliers songs rent the air,
whose words have been interpreted--
"Thy name, O Fernando!
Through all earth shall be sounded,
Columbus has triumphed,
His foes are confounded!"
or
"Thy name, Isabella,
Through all earth shall be sounded,
Columbus has triumphed,
His foes are confounded!"
To Aragon and Castile Columbus had "given a new world." Peals of golden
horns shook the delighted cities, where balconies overflowed with
flowers.
[Illustration: Barcelona.]
His reception at Barcelona by the King and Queen had been made
inconceivably splendid:
"That was a glorious day
That dawned on Barcelona. Banners filled
The thronging towers, the old bells rung, and blasts
Of lordly trumpets seemed to reach the sky
Cerulean. All Spain had gathered there,
And waited there his coming; Castilian knights,
Gay cavaliers, hidalgos young, and e'en the old
Puissant grandees of far Aragon,
With glittering mail and waving plumes and all
The peasant multitude with bannerets
And charms and flowers.
"Beneath pavilions
Of brocades of gold, the Court had met.
The dual crowns of Leon old and proud Castile
There waited him, the peasant mariner.
"The heralds waited
Near the open gates; the minstrels young and fair
Upon the tapestries and arrased walls,
And everywhere from all the happy provinces
The wandering troubadours.
"Afar was heard
A cry, a long acclaim. Afar was seen
A proud and stately steed with nodding plumes,
Bridled with gold, whose rider stately rode,
And still afar a long and sinuous train
Of silvery cavaliers. A shout arose,
And all the city, all the vales and hills,
With acclamations rung.
"He came, the Genoese,
With reverent look and calm and lofty mien,
And saw the wondering eyes and heard the cries,
And trumpet peals, as one who followed still
Some Guide unseen.
"Before his steed
Crowned Indians marched with lowly faces,
And wondered at the new world that they saw;
Gay parrots screamed from their gold-circled arms,
And from their crests swept airy plumes. The sun
Shone full in splendor on the scene, and here
The old and new world met!"
The young Italian Chevalier, Pigafetta, Knight of Rhodes, visited the
scenes that his own countryman had made immortal by his voyage.
He thought of the plumed Indians and of the birds of splendid plumage
that Columbus had brought back.
He heard much of Magellan, the "new Columbus." Why might he not go out
upon unknown seas with him and discover new races, and bring back with
him tropic spices, birds, and flowers?
He journeyed to Seville and there met Magellan. He entered into the
dreams of the new navigator. He asked Magellan to let him sail with him.
"Why do you wish to enter upon such a hazardous undertaking?"
"I am desirous of seeing the wonderful things of the ocean!"
Magellan saw it was so. The Spaniards might distrust him, the Portuguese
be jealous of him, but here was a man who would have no race
prejudices--a man after his own heart, whom he could trust.
"You wish to see the wonders of the ocean world?" he asked.
"Yes, and I can write, and whatever I may do, and wherever I may go, I
will always be true to you--the heart of Pigafetta will always be loyal
to the Admiral!"
"My Italian Chevalier, you may embark with me to see the wonders of the
ocean world. You shall follow my lantern."
From that hour the young Italian lived in anticipation. What new lands
would he see, what palm islands, what gigantic men and strange birds,
and inhabitants of the sea?
The young Knight of Rhodes had spoken truly, whatever light might fail,
his heart would ever be true to the Admiral.
So the Knight embarked with the rude crew to follow, in the silences of
uncharted seas, the lantern of Magellan.
He composed on the voyage a narrative for Villiers de l'Isle Adams,
Grand Master of Rhodes. By this narrative we are still able to follow in
fancy the lantern of Magellan through the straits that now bear the name
of Magellan, to the newly discovered Pacific, and around the world.
His character was as spirited as Magellan's was noble.
We will sail with him in our voyage around the world, for _he_ went all
the way and bore the news of Magellan's triumphs to Seville again.
* * * * *
Beautiful Seville! We must glance at the city here. She was the pride of
Spain in those times when Spain dazzled the world. The Hispal of the
Phoenicians, the Hispales of the Roman conquest, and the Seville of the
Moors! Her glory had arisen in the twilight of history, and had grown
with the advancement of the race.
She was indeed beautiful at the time when Magellan was preparing for the
sea. The Moorish period had passed leaving her rich in arts and
treasures, and splendid architecture.
Situated on the banks of the Guadalquivir, circular in shape and
surrounded with more than a hundred Moorish towers, and about ten miles
in circumference, she rivaled the cities of Europe and of the Orient.
The great cathedral was being completed at that time, a mountain of art,
arising from its plain of marble. It was four hundred and thirty-one
feet long, and three hundred and fifteen feet wide, with solemn and
grand arches lighted by the finest windows in Spain, perhaps the most
enchanting lights through which the sun ever shone. The altars were
enriched by the wealth of discovery.
[Illustration: The Giralda.]
Over this mountain of gold, marbles, and gems gleamed the Giralda, or
weather vane, in the form of a statue, three hundred and fifty feet
high.
Seville at this time was a city of churches. To these, sailors resorted
while waiting for an expedition to complete its preparations for the
sea, for most of them were good Catholics, and such as hoped for God's
favor in the enterprise upon which they were about to enter.
Here, too, was the old Moorish palace, the Alcazar, with its delicate
lacework like the walls of the Alhambra, but richer in color. In this
palace was the Hall of the Ambassadors, one of the most enchanting
apartments ever created by the genius of man.
In the latter dream of Moorish fancy have passed aching hearts, as well
as those filled with wonder and delight. Here Pedro the Cruel received
one of the kings of Granada, and murdered him with his own hand, to rob
him of the jewels that adorned his person.
The tales of Pedro the Cruel haunted the city at this time.
We are told that this monarch used to go about the city in disguise.
One night he went out thus to serenade a beautiful lady. As he
approached the balcony with his guitar where the lady lived, he saw
another man there, who had come for the same purpose. The rival musician
filled him with rage, and the King rushed upon him and struck him down
and killed him.
He fled away. He reasoned that as he was in disguise no one could know
him.
There was an old woman who kept a bakery across the way from the house
where the noble lady lived. She was looking out of her window at the
time of the murder. She saw the act, and got a view of the terrible face
of the royal musician as he was fleeing away.
"That was the King himself," said the old bake woman. "By my soul, that
was the King!"
The next day the news of the murder filled the city. The murdered man
was a person of rank and importance. The people were alarmed and
indignant.
"Who did the deed?" was a question that arose to every lip.
The King, cruel as he was, did not wish to be suspected of being a
street assassin. So he issued a proclamation in this form:
"Unless the alcalde (judge) of Seville shall discover the murderer of
the gallant musician within three days, the alcalde shall lose his
head."
The city judge began to make great exertions to discover the murderer.
The old bake woman came to him and said:
"I know who did the deed. But silence, silence! I saw it with my own
eyes, but we must be still. It was the King himself!"
The alcalde dared not accuse the King, and yet he must save his own
head. What was he to do?
He made an image of the King. He then went to the palace.
"O King! I have found the murderer. I have brought him here to receive
sentence."
The King was glad that a suspected person had been found, so that the
public thought might be directed to the suspect.
"What shall be done with him?" asked the alcalde.
"What! He who would slay a musician about to serenade a noble lady?"
"Yes, your Majesty."
"What shall be done with him? I condemn him to death. Bring him before
me."
The alcalde brought in the image of the King, and uncovered it.
The King beheld himself.
"I will save _your_ head," said the King, and the alcalde went
thoughtfully away.