Like Galileo, he was rejected as a vain dreamer, not altogether free from suspicion of magic.
A second time he came to Santa Fé, and boldly expostulated with Isabel on her backwardness.
“Her refusal,” said Columbus, “was not in consonance with the magnanimous spirit of her reign.”
The great queen was touched at the rough sincerity of his words.
“I will assume the undertaking,” was her reply, “for my own kingdom of Castile. I will pawn my jewels if the money you raise is not sufficient.”
The box or casket, with a gold pattern, which she gave him, is still preserved in the sacristy of the cathedral at Granada. He returned it to her filled with virgin gold, “As admiral, viceroy, and captain-general of all islands and continents in the western ocean,” titles which descended to his son.
The memory of Columbus (or Colon, as he is called in Spain, a name continued in his present descendants, the Duques de Veragua) is perpetuated at Seville by a large flagstone let into the marble floor in the centre of the cathedral.
A Castilia y a Leon
Nuovo Mundo dio Colon,
is the motto. On either side the rude outlines of two small caravels are cut, models of the vessels in which he started from Palos in Andalusia in search of the new world.
In shape they resemble Grecian triremes without the bank of oars. A raised stern bears a square metal lantern as a night signal, and floating at the prow flies the flag of Spain.