I looked at the turbid yellow water, already swollen with the rain. A bath in it would be highly unpleasant, even if it were nothing worse than a bath. But we got safely across, and rattled up a gentle rise into the pretty little town, where at every turn one meets reminders of the wealth and splendour that it enjoyed in the sixteenth century, when the gold that poured in from America enriched every one connected with those who adventured in the New World.
The Fonda del Almirante Pinzón is established on the ground floor of the house belonging to the Admiral’s grandson, and when I was there the family, reduced in means like so many of the old nobility, were living on the floor above. Ever since the great days of their voyages with Columbus the head of the Pinzóns has been a sailor, and the Admiral whose name is given to the hotel distinguished himself in the Peninsular War, and quite recently a cruiser was sent to convey his remains to the national pantheon of illustrious mariners at San Fernando. And his son upheld and his grandson still upholds the traditions of a family which Charles V. honoured with a grant of nobility, and the same arms as those given to Columbus himself—the three historic caravels and the motto—
“A Castilla y à Leon
Nuevo mundo dió Pinzón.”
(To Castile and to Leon
A new world was given by Pinzón.)
But the proudest boast of the Pinzóns, who were wealthy when their great ancestor first set sail for the unknown west, is that they have never soiled their hands with ill-gotten gains, and that one Admiral Pinzón after another has held high posts under Government and has left office no richer than when he entered it. Honesty such as this, in a country where politics and office are universally regarded as a short road to a fortune, argues a standard of morality as lofty as it is rare. Sigismund Moret, the Liberal statesman who was three times intrigued out of the Premiership because he would not buy party support, died a poor man, and all the Spanish press united to proclaim the fact as the highest honour they could pay him. As yet it is vain to hope for the honest administration of public money, but we must trust that in the long-run the example of the Pinzóns and the Morets and their like will prevail. For it is one of the tragedies of Spain that her natural wealth, mineral and agricultural, is immense, and she only needs honest and common-sense administration to become one of the richest, instead of the poorest country in Europe.
This digression is excusable because in the Columbus country you meet the Pinzóns at every turn, and it is they and their like who some day will leaven the lump. It is usual to say that Spain will never rise because the dead weight of egoism and self-seeking lying on the top of the good dough underneath will prevent any sound morality from getting to the top. But qui vivra verra. I, personally, believe that cracks are spreading in the crust of administrative selfishness, and I hope before I die to see some such awakening here as took place in my own country when I was young, and English society suddenly began to realise that it had not fulfilled its whole duty to the poor by giving them blankets and beef-tea.
The little fonda with its grand name is not a place one wants to stay long at, for although clean the beds are somewhat hard, and the food is such as might be expected for five pesetas a day tout compris. But in the modest patio there is a large painting of the Virgin of Montemayor which belonged to the Admiral and his forbears. And in the simply furnished dining-room there is a beautiful wrought-iron well-head dating from the fifteenth century, in style and design identical with the pulpit in the little church of Palos de la Frontera, whence was read the decree of Isabel the Catholic calling on her lieges of the port to man and furnish the ships Santa Maria and Niña for the expedition into the unknown. These ships, according to the Pinzóns, were the property of Martin Alonso Pinzón and his brothers, although in the lawsuit brought many years after by Diego, the son of Columbus, against the State a different account was given. The papers relating to that long quarrel have been the basis for much of what has been written about Columbus’ first expedition, so if my readers find the family traditions widely varying from popular histories of the period, they must remember that the Pinzón point of view naturally differs from that of the other side in an unhappy lawsuit, and they may choose for themselves which story they will believe.
The day after my arrival at Moguer was bright and sunny, and the Señora de Pinzón, after studying my credentials, allowed her young daughter Conchita (otherwise Maria de la Concepción) to join me in my expedition to La Rabida. This was really a great favour, for Spanish mothers never like to let their girls out of their sight until they are safely married. But Conchita had been educated by the Irish nuns of the Loretto at Gibraltar, and the Señora could not resist her appeal to be allowed to spend the day with me to practise her English, which she said she was afraid of forgetting. It seemed to make the dry bones of history curiously alive to go over the ground with that bright young creature and hear her continual references to “my ancestor Martin Alonso” as we drove along a pretty lane to the famous Palos, greeted by every man, woman, and child we met with a cordiality which showed in what esteem the family are held here.