The Son of Columbus

by Molly Elliot Seawell

“It would be exactly like him,” replied Don Felipe, laughing; “but for once I would not obey him.”

Half the night the two youths watched the night sky, dreading that clouds and storms might mar the most glorious day that had ever dawned for Spain. But the stars shone from a clear sky, and the April morning broke as beautiful as that August morning when the Santa Maria, the Pinta, and the Niña slipped away into the sunlit ocean, or on that glorious March day when the Niña passed the bar of Saltes, the great standard of Spain floating in triumph from her peak.

Scarcely an eye closed that night in Barcelona. Not only was every street, window, and balcony filled, but the roofs were black with persons passionately anxious to see the great pageant. The sun shone with unclouded splendor, and soft airs from the blue and glittering Mediterranean gently moved the flags and banners that were clustered thick over city and harbor. A great collection of vessels from every adjacent port and country made the spacious harbor of Barcelona a forest of shipping and extended in long lines on both sides of the coast.

The entrance of the Admiral was to take place at ten o’clock in the morning. At that hour all was arranged in the great Plaza of the city. The King and the Queen, wearing their royal robes and mantles, and with crowns upon their heads, were seated on the throne in their great gilded chairs. Behind the King’s chair stood Prince Juan; and behind the Queen were grouped the Princess Katharine and the other royal children. Of the ladies-in-waiting of the Queen, Doña Christina held the place of honor, and among the young ladies of the highest rank was seated Doña Luisita. She was dressed in white and silver, and was in clear view of Diego, who, with little Fernando, was given a seat next the steps of the throne. The robes, jewels, and plumes of the ladies made a splendid glow of color. The cardinals, headed by the great Cardinal Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, the firm friend of the Admiral, made a blaze of glory in their scarlet robes, while all the bishops and archbishops of Spain in purple robes and white capes, their glittering mitres and crosiers shining in the April sun, with their train-bearers and attendants, were seated next the cardinals. Among the ecclesiastics there were two plain, black-gowned figures, those of Juan Perez, Prior of La Rabida, and Father de Deza, tutor to Prince Juan, the two friends of whom the Admiral in life and in his will after his death spoke with gratitude which has immortalized them. Others who had stood by the Admiral, like Alonzo de Quintanilla and Luis de St. Angel, were given places of honor. The nobles, wearing their robes of state, the knights, resplendent in flashing armor, added magnificence to the scene. A solemn hush was upon the great company. All excitement and jubilation subsided as the deep and tremendous meaning of the day made itself felt.

All was in readiness by half-past nine o’clock; but long before that came from afar off a deep murmur like the distant roar of breakers on the seashore as the Admiral approached the gates of the city. The murmur grew, never loud, but deep, because it came from the hearts of the people. It seemed to rise from the earth and the sea and to extend to the limits of the horizon. Presently, in the glowing April morning, the head of the advancing procession was seen as it entered the spacious Plaza. Then it parted to the right and the left, and the figure of the Admiral, mounted on a stately black horse, was seen advancing, while immediately behind him rode a color-bearer carrying the great Gonfalon of Spain that Columbus himself carried ashore and planted upon the soil of the New World. At sight of him, suddenly the silence was broken with a clashing of joy bells, the salvos of artillery, the solemn thunder of cathedral chimes, and the shrill acclaims of trumpets and clarions. The tongues of the people were unloosed, and a storm of applause that began in the Plaza of Barcelona and reached for leagues beyond on land and sea rose to Heaven. This lasted until the Admiral reached the foot of the broad, red-carpeted stairs that led to the great platform. There he dismounted and ascended the stairs.

Never had this majestic man appeared so majestic. His tall and stately figure, his hair already white, his carriage full of grace and dignity, would have made him a marked man among other men under any circumstances; but, above all, his eyes, gravely triumphant, introspective, of unshakable steadiness, proclaimed him as a master of men, born a captain, and designed for command. Well might it be believed that this man stood ready to sail into the perilous and uncharted seas, to meet unknown dangers and horrors, to face and subdue mutineers who would have thrown him into the ocean and dared not, though they were many and he was but one, who kept his course due west, when even the hearts of his captains and his pilots fainted within them, remaining unshaken when the North Star seemed to tremble in its orbit. Brave and skilful mariners had there been before, but he was the bravest and the most skilful man who had ever sailed blue water.

These thoughts surged through the hearts of all who saw the immortal Admiral as he mounted the steps of the great platform, where was assembled the authority, the learning, the piety, the chivalry, and the beauty of Spain to do him honor—honor to him who for eighteen years had borne, with sublime courage and infinite patience, disappointment, contumely, treachery, and ignominy. Now, at his approach, all rose, and every head was uncovered. The loftiest height of glory was his; and yet he remained undazzled, with a just pride before men, but with humility before God, for Columbus was, first of all, a Christian.

This man Columbus, a foreigner and penniless, had, by his stupendous genius and matchless courage, made Spain in one hour the greatest and most powerful nation in the world. The boundless territory and the incalculable riches with which Columbus had endowed the country brought with them new duties, new problems, vast responsibilities, and novel relations with all the countries of the known world. The more this amazing discovery of Columbus was analyzed the greater and deeper it appeared. Not only Spain, but the future of the human race, was powerfully and inevitably affected by the revelation of a new and mysterious world. These thoughts produced not only a sublime exaltation, but a solemn and sobering effect upon the vast multitudes assembled in Barcelona on that unforgettable day. Especially was this true of the rulers of Spain. The expulsion of the Moorish invaders from Spanish soil had been justly regarded as a splendid national triumph and a great step forward in Christian civilization. To this was added a triumph greater than any known to ancient Rome, beside which all the acquisition of territory, all conquests of the world appeared trivial. It was this sublime thought that paled the cheeks of the great Queen Isabella, who, with eyes downcast upon her clasped hands, moved her lips continually in silent prayer. King Ferdinand, soldier and statesman, but cold and crafty, saw the vast achievement of Columbus from a nobler point of view than ever before. Prince Juan, true son of his mother, was, like her, pale and concentrated. It was more than the brilliant sunrise of Spanish glory; it was the greatest earthly event the world had ever known.

In the midst of a breathless silence Columbus advanced slowly and with dignity. When he reached the foot of the throne he stopped, modestly waiting for an invitation from his sovereigns to proceed further. The Queen, in her eagerness, moved forward and, stooping, held out her hand. Columbus ascended the throne and kneeled before the sovereigns. The Queen, her hand still extended, raised him, saying: