Scientific American Supplement, No. 344, August 5, 1882

by Various

Balbao, in 1513, gained from a height on the Isthmus of Panama the first proof of its separation from Asia; and Magellan enters the South Sea at the southern extremity of the country, now first proven to be thus separate and a continent. Men in those days began to think that creation was doubled, and that such discovered lands must be separate from India, China, and Japan. And the very successes of the Portuguese under Vasco da Gama, bringing from their eastern course the expectancy of Asia's wealth, intensely excited the Spaniards to renew their western search.

The Portuguese, led around the Cape of Good Hope, had brought home vast treasures from the East, while the Spanish discoverers, as yet, had not reached the countries either of Montezuma or of the Inca. Their success "troubled the sleep of the Spaniards."

Everything, then, of personal ambition and national pride, the thirst for gold, the zeal of religious proselytism, and the cold calculations of state policy, now concurred in the disposition to sacrifice what Spain already had of most value on the American shores in order to seize upon a greater good, the Indies, still supposed to be near at hand. And since it was now certain that the new lands were not themselves Asia, the next aim was to find the secret of the narrow passage across them which must lead thither. The very configuration of the isthmus strengthened the belief in the existence of such a passage by the number of its openings, which seemed to invite entrance in the expectancy that some one of them must extend across the narrow breadth of land.

For this the Spanish government, in 1514, gave secret orders to D'Avilla, Governor of Castila del Oro, and to Juan de Solis, the navigator, to determine whether Castila del Oro were an island, and to send to Cuba a chart of the coast, if any strait were possible. For this, De Solis visited Nicaragua and Honduras; and later, led far to the south, perished in the La Plata. For this, Magellan entered the straits, which, strangely enough, he affirmed before setting out, that he "would enter," since he "had seen them marked out on the geographer Martin Behaim's globe." For this, Cortez sent out his expeditions on both coasts, exposing his own life and treasure, and sending home to the emperor, in his second relation, a map of the entire Gulf of Mexico (Dispatch from Cortez to Charles V., October 15, 1524). For this great purpose, and in full expectancy of success in it, the whole coast of the New World on each side, from Newfoundland on the northeast, curving westward on the south, around the whole sweep of the Gulf of Mexico, thence to Magellan's Straits, and thence through them up the Pacific to the Straits of Behring, was searched and researched with diligence. "Men could not get accustomed," says Humboldt, "to the idea that the continent extended uninterruptedly both so far north and south." Hence all these large, numerous, and persevering expeditions by the European powers.

Among them, by priority of right and by her energy, was Spain. The great emperor was urgent on the conqueror of Mexico, and on all in subordinate positions in New Spain, to solve the secret of the strait. All Spain was awakened to it. "How majestic and fair was she," says Chevalier, "in the sixteenth century; what daring, what heroism and perseverance! Never had the world seen such energy, activity, or good fortune. Hers was a will that regarded no obstacles. Neither rivers, deserts, nor mountains far higher than those in Europe, arrested her people. They built grand cities, they drew their fleets, as in a twinkling of the eye, from the very forests. A handful of men conquered empires. They seemed a race of giants or demi-gods. One would have supposed that all the work necessary to bind together climates and oceans would have been done at the word of the Spaniards as by enchantment, and since nature had not left a passage through the center of America, no matter, so much the better for the glory of the human race; they would make it up by artificial communication. What, indeed, was that for men like them? It were done at a word. Nothing else was left for them to conquer, and the world was becoming too small for them."

Certainly, had Spain remained what she then was, what had been in vain sought from nature would have been supplied by man. A canal or several canals would have been built to take the place of the long-desired strait. Her men of science urged it. In 1551, Gomara, the author of the "History of the Indies," proposed the union of the oceans by three of the very same lines toward which, to this hour, the eye turns with hope.

"It is true," said Gomara, "that mountains obstruct these passes, but if there are mountains there are also hands; let but the resolve be made, there will be no want of means; the Indies, to which the passage will be made, will supply them. To a king of Spain, with the wealth of the Indies at his command, when the object to be obtained is the spice trade, what is possible is easy.

But the sacred fire suddenly burned itself out in Spain. The peninsula had for its ruler a prince who sought his glory in smothering free thought among his own people, and in wasting his immense resources in vain efforts to repress it also outside of his own dominions through all Europe. From that hour, Spain became benumbed and estranged from all the advances of science and art, by means of which other nations, and especially England, developed their true greatness.

Even after France had shown, by her canal of the south, that boats could ascend and pass the mountain crests, it does not appear that the Spanish government seriously wished to avail itself of a like means of establishing any communication between her sea of the Antilles and the South Sea. The mystery enveloping the deliberations of the council of the Indies has not always remained so profound that we could not know what was going on in that body. The Spanish government afterward opened up to Humboldt free access to its archives, and in these he found several memoirs on the possibility of a union between the two oceans; but he says that in no one of them did he find the main point, the height of the elevations on the isthmus, sufficiently cleared up, and he could not fail to remark that the memoirs were exclusively French or English. Spain herself gave it no thought. Since the glorious age of Balbao among the people, indeed, the project of a canal was in every one's thoughts. In the very wayside talks, in the inns of Spain, when a traveler from the New World chanced to pass, after making him tell of the wonders of Lima and Mexico, of the death of the Inca, Atahualpa, and the bloody defeat of the Aztecs, and after asking his opinion of El Dorado, the question was always about the two oceans, and what great things would happen if they could succeed in joining them.

During the whole of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Spain had need of the best mode of conveyance for her treasures across the isthmus. Yet those from Peru came by the miserable route from Panama to the deadliest of climates. Porto Bello and her European wares for her colonies toiled up the Chagres river, while the roughest of communication farther north connected the Chimalapa and the Guasacoalcos in Mexico, and the trade there was limited sternly to but one port on each side. As late as Humboldt's visit, in 1802, when remarking upon the "unnatural modes of communication" by which, through painful delays, the immense treasures of the New World passed from Acapulco, Guayaquil, and Lima, to Spain, he says: "These will soon cease whenever an active government, willing to protect commerce, shall construct a good road from Panama to Porto Bello. The aristocratic nonchalance of Spain, and her fear to open to strangers the way to the countries explored for her own profit, only kept those countries closed." The court forbade, on pain of death, the use of plans at different times proposed. They wronged their own colonies by representing the coasts as dangerous and the rivers impassable. On the presentation of a memoir for improving the route through Tehuantepec, by citizens of Oaxaca, as late as 1775, an order was issued forbidding the subject to be mentioned. The memorialists were censured as intermeddlers, and the viceroy fell under the sovereign's displeasure for having seemed to favor the plans.