HUMAN INFLUENCE.
———
BY MARIE ROSEAU.
———
Oh! deem not thou canst lightly err,
And none may bear its weight but thee:
There’s none on earth who stands alone,
None so devoid of sympathy,
But that each fault will wing a dart
To pierce some gentle, feeling heart.
Oh! say not that no sin of thine
Will cause another, weaker one,
To fall, or stumble by the way—
By following thee his soul undone—
Drawn to the very depths of shame:
Then on whose head shall rest the blame?
Oh! say not thou art far too weak
To help some brother poor and frail,
Whose footsteps falter by the way—
Whose burthened strength begins to fail—
Thy words of hope may sooth his grief,
Thy hand, though weak, may bring relief.
Perchance some weary spirit mourns,
In bitterness of grief e’en now,
That thus in bonds, by error wrought,
So strong a soul as thine should bow—
That thou, of all the world shouldst stray
From wisdom’s straight and pleasant way.
Perchance e’en now thy many faults
Stand in some wand’ring brother’s road,
That but for thee his feet would tread
The path of wisdom and of God—
Who, but for thee, or for thy sin,
A victor’s glorious crown might win.
Oh! none there are whose deeds and words
May not exert an influence wide,
There is no hand that hath not strength
Some wand’rer from the way to guide:
No voice with tones too weak to bless
Some hapless brother in distress.
HONOR TO WHOM HONOR IS DUE.
A TALE OF OLDEN TIMES.
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BY MRS. LYDIA JANE PEIRSON.
———
Grenada had fallen. The miserable remnant of a once powerful nation, driven from the cities of their glorious empire, hunted by an untiring zeal to destroy, crowded at length into their chief stronghold, the city of their regal power—the birth-place and the sepulchre of a long race of puissant monarchs—had endured all the miseries of siege, of famine, and of slaughter; had endured with an invincible determination to die rather than yield; and they had died by the sword, by hunger and thirst, by despair, by pestilence; and their rich and magnificent city had been sacked, plundered, ravaged, made the prey of soldiers, greedy for spoil, thirsting for the blood of an infidel foe, exasperated by resistance, and maddened by fanatical zeal. Grenada had fallen; the Moors were no longer a nation of the earth. Ferdinand and Isabella, weary of war, and satiated with conquest, were reposing in state at Santa Fe, or San Felipe, with every demonstration of triumph, every show of thanksgiving to the God of battles. The days were divided between the most gloriously marshaled tournaments and the most magnificent religious processions; the nights were devoted to the masquerade and the mass; the whole world seemed vocal, now with strains of triumphant martial music, now with the no less lofty Te Deum, or Gloria in Excelsis. All was joy and gladness, triumph and gratitude. The temporary palace was shining like the fabled palace of Aladdin, builded of the gold and gems of the genii world. In all the apartments the magic of regal magnificence was displayed in the taste of the most approved style of art. Tapestries of regal blue and Tyrian purple, broidered and fringed with scarlet, green and gold, in the inimitable style of the artists of Babylon, swept from the lofty ceilings to the velvety carpels of the marble pavements which were rich with tufted work of flowers of every hue, while in the recesses of the windows, where the tapestries were looped aside with cords of the richest dyed and braided silks, entwined with strings of glittering gems, and heavy with tassels of feathery silk and drops of gold and diamonds, were placed beautifully enameled vases of the porcelain of Italia, supporting branches of artificial flowers and fruits of immense value. From the daisy, with its petals of pearl and eye of platted gold, to the rose of Damascus, formed of flashing rubies, and dewed with purest diamonds; from the rich clusters of grapes of amethyst, to the golden pear and nectarine, beryl and sardonix. Doors opened upon seemingly interminable vistas of trees and flowering shrubs, intermingled with candelabras of gold, wrought into the semblance of tall plants, bearing flowers of crystal and purest porcelain of every delicate tint, each of which was a lamp, burning perfumed oil, and giving out rich fragrance with its mellowed light; while birds of every clime, from the stately pea-fowl to the minutest lady-bird, admirably imitated in enameled gold and precious stones, were fixed upon elastic sprays, swaying to every breath, and chirping forth melody from little organs, played upon by their own tremulous motions, and so perfect was the workmanship that their forms and notes were hardly to be distinguished from those of the real birds that walked or flew amongst them in the gay parterres.
Amid all this enchantment moved groups of richly habited men and women; dons and cavaliers, in their blazing military costumes, and dark-eyed donnas, in soft silks, rich velvets, and transparent muslins of India, ornamented with brilliants, plumes, or flowers, each as her fancy dictated. Some were dancing to lively music, some listening to soft melodies and songs of love; some were grouped around the beautifully imitated trees, on which ripe fruits of every clime seemed to hang in nature’s wild profusion; some clustered around statues, which presented baskets and trays of the choicest viands; others again rested beside fountains which threw up jets of perfumed wine, which, as it descended in drops, displayed rainbows of inimitable splendor, painted by colored lights arranged for the purpose, while here and there a youthful couple, walking apart, and apparently unconscious of all the surrounding splendor, betrayed the tender topic of their sweet communings.
Could discontent and heaviness of heart exist amid all this wealth and splendor and apparent happiness? or do all these fail to satisfy the yearnings of the immortal mind? In a retired part of the gardens, where a few dark evergreens clustered over a natural spring of living water, stood a man apparently forty years of age, plainly habited in rich black velvet, which displayed to the best advantage a form of manly mould and exquisite symmetry. His beaver lay beside him on the turf, and his noble head thus exposed, displayed the perfection of nature’s statuary. His high and expansive forehead, strongly marked and delicately moulded features, dark, piercing and restless eyes, bespoke genius to conceive, energy to prosecute, perseverance to complete achievement of lofty daring. But there was an expression of melancholy around his perfect mouth, and his dark brows had acquired a contraction which proved that he was familiar with disappointment, and the contumely of inferior souls. Wrapped in deep thought he seemed, except that from time to time, as he lifted his eyes and glanced up the vista, there flashed from their dark depths the impatience of a mighty spirit, baffled of its aim, chained in its flight, and misunderstood in the darkness of surrounding ignorance. A figure, elastic with the buoyancy of joy, advanced toward him, a warm hand clasped his, and a glad voice exclaimed, “Courage, my friend, she has consented to see you, to listen to your plea, to weigh your arguments, and decide upon your claims to patronage. Courage, I say, for if she listen to you, she will espouse your cause.” A light, intense, but momentary, flashed over the face of the dark-browed man, as he pressed the hand of his messenger, exclaiming, “Thank you—to me you are, indeed, San Angel!”
Gradually the gay groups disappeared from the scene of magnificent enchantment; the lights went out one by one, like stars at the approach of day; the voices of melody ceased amongst the pavilions, and in the echoing halls, and silence seemed resuming her natural empire over the night.
In a retired apartment of the royal palace sat Isabella of Castile, with her two young daughters. The beauty of the queen was of a style to command respect rather than admiration, obedience rather than love. Majesty was in her form and mien, pride sat on her brow, and in her tones and gestures lived an authority which none dared question or disobey. Well was it for herself and those around her that she was governed by the nicest principles of honor; that her whole life was swayed by the most fervent and conscientious devotional feelings; so that as a queen, as a wife, and as a mother, she was above reproach.
Her eldest daughter, the Lady Isabella, inherited with her mother’s name, a large portion of her personal and mental qualities; but while one was a woman and a queen, the other was a young princess, proud, impatient of control or contradiction, and delighting in magnificence and admiration. Her younger sister, the Lady Joanna, though she had a fine form and regular features, with the dark, languid eyes of her country, was destitute of that grace and vivacity which is the great charm in woman’s character. The warm blood never gave a living glow to the dark olive of her complexion, and it was seldom that the deep fringes of her eyelids were lifted sufficiently to allow those with whom she conversed to mark the beautiful and flitting shadows of the deep and sweet emotions of her loving spirit.
“Oh, mother!” cried the young Isabella, her whole person radiant with the spirit’s light, “oh, mother, what a glorious thing it is to be a queen’s daughter; to live in such magnificence, to be an object of admiration and worship, to listen while gay and noble cavaliers extol one’s beauty and accomplishments; but, mother, it is my highest glory that I am your child, your namesake, and like you in mind and person. Oh, how my heart swelled last night as I heard men speak of the truly royal Isabella of Castile. But, mother, I am not quite as noble-souled as you, for I heard them tell that in your girlhood, when the discontented nobles and people would have placed you on your brother’s throne, you utterly refused to consent to his being deposed, and only allowed yourself to be declared his successor. I could not have been so moderate; oh, I long to be a queen like you.”
“A queen!” murmured Joanna, who occupied a cushion at her mother’s feet, “a queen,” and her voice was low and sweet as the murmur of a guitar, when its strings are moved by the orange-scented breeze alone. “I would be queen of one loving heart alone. I ask no kingdom beyond a quiet home, with one to love me, dearly, truly, unchangingly, as I could love again. Oh, mother, I am weary of all this noise and show; my heart grows sick, as I mark these glorious things, and feel that they are spoils of war, relics of a fallen power, trophies of a victory achieved by bloodshed, fire, famine, and pestilence. Do not frown, dear mother, my queen; but I cannot help thinking of the loving hearts, and beautiful women, and tender babes that perished in Grenada. They were infidels, but they had human hearts; they loved, and were beloved, and, oh, what bitter sundering of holy ties was in that devoted city. I cannot rejoice in such dreadful victory; I dare not thank our merciful Father in Heaven that he has permitted our armies to inflict such a vast amount of misery, not only on our armed foes, but on their helpless and innocent families.”
The queen’s countenance was troubled; she regarded her daughters alternately. “Alas! my children,” she said at length, “I foresee unhappiness for you both. Isabella’s spirit will never be satisfied with power and grandeur; and your heart, Joanna, will never be filled with the love for which alone it asks. It is possible to be beautiful, honored, and a mighty queen, and yet be very miserable—oh, very miserable! Leave me now, my children, for the hour of audience is at hand; and I am to listen to a strange suitor and weigh a mighty project.”
Queen Isabella sat in her private audience-chamber, surrounded by her nobles. There was a shadow on her brow deeper than the shade of business cares; and it was remarked by her counsellors that every article of the spoils of the fallen Moors had been removed from her apartments.
Presently San Angel and his friend, Columbus, were ushered to the royal presence. The great adventurer wore the same plain habit of black velvet, but appeared infinitely more noble in that dress than did any of the embroidery-decked cavaliers in the royal presence. Columbus was no stranger to courts and princes, yet as he bent his knee before Isabella of Castile, he felt to pay her the homage of the soul, and she thought that she had never until then looked upon true greatness.
“Rise,” she said, “and speak what you have to say.”
He stood before her calm, collected, and with the air of a man having full confidence in himself; and his speech, which at first was hesitating and low, soon flowed in a torrent of strong eloquence, betraying the tide of the deep spirit which thus poured out its speculative treasures.
“Madam,” he said, “you behold me, a native of Genoa, a suitor to your majesty for aid, not to prosecute an idle enterprise to attain for myself gay baubles, or the yellow gold that lies like a heavy chain upon the souls of its votaries, but to prosecute a great and glorious enterprise, of the success of which I am morally certain, and which will be an inestimable benefit to the whole world, and add, if it be possible, new honors to the name of Isabella of Castile. Madam, the teachings of science, as well as my apprehension of the goodness and wisdom of our bountiful Creator, have led me to a firm conviction that all the unexplored surface of this vast globe is not, cannot be, a barren waste of waters. I know that there are vast islands, probably a great continent, sufficient to balance the lands that now compose the world, lying away in the western ocean. These unknown lands I would discover and explore. Or even if such do not exist, as we know that the earth is globular in form, I shall at least discover a passage to India through the western ocean, and so add a glory to the crown of Castile which shall eclipse the lustre which recent navigators have given to Portugal. This is the age of naval enterprise and great discoveries; let the most important exploit of this age live with the name of Queen Isabella on the historic page forever and forever.
“Madam, I know that I am no idle dreamer, no speculative theorist; I seek to confirm by actual discovery the truths which reason and religion proclaim to my mind as indisputable. And yet I have found no soul capable of understanding mine; no rich prince or noble willing to risk a few thousands for an incalculable benefit to the whole world through all the years to come, and a fame which shall live until the sun burns out in the great temple of the blue ether. You will ask why I, a citizen of Genoa, a rich and powerful state, find it necessary to solicit the aid of foreign powers. I have said I find no souls capable of understanding mine. The great ones of my dear native city have pronounced me a framer of illusive theories. I would have won for her an imperishable honor; she would not receive it at my hand. Filled with sorrow and indignation, I then turned toward Portugal, encouraged by her recently acquired reputation as a patron of adventurous navigators. Her great ones listened to my suit, amused with hopes, and delayed to give me a definite answer; and while I waited and strove to convince them of the rationality of my speculations, they treacherously drew from me all my grounds of belief in the existence of another continent, my intended method of discovery, with the direction I meant to steer, and all the information I could give concerning my projected voyage; and, indeed, madam, you will find it hard to believe such infamy, they fitted out a fleet secretly, which sailed, failed of its object, encountered storms, and returned, asserting that they had done all that navigators could do, and that my theory is false and futile. Thus I have been cheated out of three years of my existence, while my ardent soul is burning out its habitation. Then I thought of England. I sent my brother to lay my project before her royal Henry. Years have passed, and yet he has not returned. Madam, I know that the lands of which I have spoken do exist. I know that I am able to search them out in the world of dark waters which has wrapped them from our knowledge since the world began. I know that I can reach them, for God has raised me up and endowed me as his instrument to affect these great discoveries, and he will preserve my life, and guide me by his almighty power. I have petitioned your august consort, but he is occupied by other matters, or swayed by those who would prevent me from achieving that which they dare not undertake themselves, who would withhold from me the honors which they have not courage and ability to achieve for themselves. On you, therefore, illustrious madam, now rest my ardent hopes. Surely amid all this magnificence, the small sum necessary for my outfit would not be felt. And in the event of my success, which I deem certain, would not the vast and rich territory thus added to the dominions of Castile and Aragon, bring millions of revenue for every hundred expended on my expedition. I beseech your highness, listen to my plea; I am like a strong eagle, longing to scale the pinnacle of a lofty mountain, but bound by a heavy chain in a dark and miry valley, I am wearing out my life in a vain effort to spread my shackled pinions to the glorious sunlight. Let your royal bounty remove these shackles, give me the means, and say to me go, explore the ocean, discover new worlds, and take possession in the name of Isabella, the illustrious queen of Castile. Let me go, in pity to my restless spirit. Let me go and win everlasting honors for myself and the age, and for my royal patroness.”
Queen Isabella had listened with evident interest, her dark eyes flashed, and her cheeks burned with excitement. She extended her beautiful hand to the suppliant. “I grant your prayer,” she said; “I will furnish funds for your voyage. This display of magnificence is not at my command. It belongs to our nobles, our churches, our officers and soldiers. You behold here the spoils of the vanquished, which must reward the vanquishers. It is possible to be poor in the midst of regal splendor. But I have jewels which are at my own disposal, which add nothing to my power or my happiness. I will dispose of them, and give you the means to prosecute your project to discover new worlds amid the wilderness of waves, and win that undying fame which you deem within your reach.”
Low on his knees fell the joyful adventurer, and poured out his gratitude in few but forceful words.
Looks of scorn, contempt, and bitter enmity were fixed upon the adventurous Genoese by the courtiers who surrounded her majesty, and it was evident that her presence alone restrained them from openly expressing their hatred of him, and disapproval of her decision. One cavalier in particular ground his teeth with rage, and muttered his vow of eternal enmity to him whose soul so overreached all human intellect had heretofore achieved.
But Isabella’s royal word was pledged, and her powerful eloquence had won her regal Ferdinand of Aragon to espouse the cause of Columbus, and associate his name with hers in patronage of his great adventure. But the man of mighty soul had departed on his limitless voyage, and his scoffers continued to clamor against him, and predict the utter failure of his project, and destruction of his fleet and crews.
Ferdinand and Isabella were holding their court in Barcelona, when a courier arrived with intelligence that Columbus with his fleet had made the harbor of Palos, from which he sailed about ten months previous. Various rumors followed the announcement, rumors of glory, and gold, and territories, rich and blooming as the garden of Eden. Then gushed in clamorous torrents the bitter waters of envy, hatred, and detraction; but Isabella heeded not their clamors, but awaited with hope and exultation the arrival of her protégé.
At length a triumphant train approached the city. Loud shouts swelled up to heaven from the excited multitudes; the city poured out her torrents of living creatures to meet the mighty man who had wrested a world from the untraversed ocean floods.
The monarchs, in their most glorious apparel, sat upon their throne in the magnificently furnished reception hall of their palace home.
The procession approached; a herald announced the great discoverer. He entered the presence, and the monarchs arose and stood to greet him.
With him came natives of his new world, with their strange features and unheard of complexions—habited in the grotesque costume of their native clime. In beautiful caskets and vases were borne gold, unwrought, and fashioned into curious ornaments, fruits and flowering plants, and strangely beautiful specimens of verdure and foliage, with articles of the manufacture of those far-off lands—all things strange to the admiring beholders, and different from aught that the eastern continent produced. All was wonder, admiration and delight, except in the black habitations of envy and murderous hate. But Columbus had achieved his triumph—he had discovered a new world; he had triumphed over the malice of his enemies, he had won for himself an imperishable fame; but he laid all his glories at the feet of his royal patroness, Isabella of Castile, without whose aid the mighty soul of enterprise would have worn itself out in vain endeavors to spread its glorious pinions. Oh, that every mighty mind could find an Isabella.
Ought not the name of Isabella to be forever associated with that of Columbus, as without her aid he could never have crossed the Atlantic? Should not the honor of the discovery of the western world rest alike upon him who conceived, and her who enabled him to execute the mighty project? And yet the fame of Columbus is wide as the world, and eternal as the lands to which he opened the way across the billows; while she who gave wings to his genius and power to his arm is almost forgotten.
But I would wed her name to his forever by christening this great and hitherto nameless republic, by the appropriate and euphonious title of Columbella. Thus would I give honor to whom honor is due.