In almost immediate connection with what we here remark on the Rev. Mr. Lamy's book, we may mention that theJacobi Episcopi Edessem Epistola ad Georgium Episcopum Sarugensem de Orthographia Syriaca, so well known, at least by reputation, to oriental scholars, has at last been published at Leipsic. Assemanni and Michaelis frequently urged its printing, and Cardinal Wiseman, who took a strong and appreciative interest in the work, speaks of it at length in the first volume of hisHorae Syriacae, (Rome, 1828.)
Monsignor Giuliani, of Verona, has published a work on public libraries, in which he shows that the libraries of Italy possess a greater number of volumes than the libraries of any other nation in the world. The Italian libraries number 6,000,000 of volumes; France, 4,389,000; Austria, 2,400,000; Prussia, 2,040,000, Great Britain, 1,774,493; Bavaria, 1,268,000; Russia, 882,090; Belgium, 509,100. Collections of books are much scattered in Italy. Paris has one third of all the library books in France, and most of the European capitals are rich in almost as great a proportion. This is not the case in Italy. Milan has only 250,000 volumes in the Brera library, and 155,000 in the Ambrosian.
"——e di te soloBasti ai posteri tuoi ch'alquanto accume:Che quel poco darà lunga memoriaDi poema dignissima e d'istoria." [Footnote 121]Gierusalemme Liberata, TASSO.
"——e di te soloBasti ai posteri tuoi ch'alquanto accume:Che quel poco darà lunga memoriaDi poema dignissima e d'istoria." [Footnote 121]Gierusalemme Liberata, TASSO.
[Footnote 121: "Thy single name will pour diviner light O'er history's pages; and thy fame inspire Bards, who are yet unborn, with more celestial fire."
Tasso'sJerusalem Delivered. ]
Some three years since, a large historical painting was exhibited at the gallery of the Artists' Fund Association in the city of New York. Its subject, as announced, was "Columbus before the Council of Salamanca." The picture was said to be a work of merit, and attracted much attention. It represented the great discoverer standing in the large hall of a convent, surrounded by monks and ecclesiastics, foremost among whom are three Dominican friars, who, having apparently worked themselves into a paroxysm of anger, face Columbus with gestures of violent denunciation. Grave, dignified, and majestic stands the great Genoese discoverer among them, apparently the only reasonable being in that assemblage of ignorance and bigotry, whose victim he is evidently about to become. The pictorial lesson sought to be conveyed was, clearly, that here was another Galileo business, a seconde pur si muovesensation, a repetition of the favorite amusement of all churchmen, which every one knows to be the persecution of discoverers and the crushing out of knowledge. And the warrant for all this misrepresentation was said to be found in the pages of Washington Irving'sHistory of Columbus.
Now, a perusal of those pages shows that, although Mr. Irving committed a grave historical blunder in describing a "council of Salamanca" that had no existence, he nevertheless expressly excepts from any charge of ignorance and intolerance that may be implied from his language these very Dominican monks who, in Mr. Kauffman's historical picture, are made the foremost and most violent in their denunciation of Columbus.
"When Columbus," says Irving, "began to state the grounds of his belief, the friars of St. Stephen's (Dominicans)alone paid attention to him, that convent being more learned in the sciences than the rest of the university. The others appear to have intrenched themselves behind one dogged proposition."
In the entire range of English art and literature so firmly have some of the most offensive forms of anti-Catholic prejudice become rooted, that, whenever any prominent historical character or incident comes in contact with the Catholic Church the occasion is seized, right or wrong, with or without authority, and often in the very teeth of history, to exemplify some phase of what people are pleased to call popish ignorance and persecution. Under the dark pall of bigotry that has so long overshadowed the genius of English literature, events which, in honest truth, should and do redound to the honor of the Catholic Church and its hierarchy as protectors of knowledge and promoters of noble enterprises have been, by a species of literary legerdemain, wrested into so many evidences of their intolerance.
More than any country, England has furnished astounding and repulsive proofs of the truth of Count De Maistre's assertion that "History is a vast conspiracy against truth." With uplifted hands, dripping with the blood of the innocent, she accuses other nations of murder. With a statute-book black with intolerance and suppression of knowledge, she talks complacently of the rights of conscience and the blessings of education.
In a lecture on Daniel O'Connell, delivered in Brooklyn on the fifth of March last, the distinguished orator, Wendell Phillips, of Boston, with all his eloquence, appeared almost at a loss fittingly to qualify, by description and illustration, the frightful tyranny of Protestant England against Catholic Ireland, as exemplified in the diabolical ingenuity of the means by which she sought to "stamp out" Irish nationality and annihilate Catholicity. And, Mr. Phillips might have added, she was as consistently bigoted at home as in Ireland. Here, the poor hedge schoolmaster if a Catholic, who taught a child its a b c, was, for the first offence, subject to banishment, and for the second,to be hanged as a felon. There, when the University of Oxford was asked to confer the honorary degree of A.M. on Alban Francis, a learned Benedictine, he was rudely thrust back, solely for the reason that he was a Catholic. And yet the same university had shortly before conferred the same degree on—a Mohammedan! The old distich is very trite, but on that occasion it was very true:
"Turk, Jew, or atheist may enter here,But not a papist."
"Turk, Jew, or atheist may enter here,But not a papist."
It is a memorable fact that Sir Isaac Newton particularly distinguished himself by active participation in this piece of bigotry. He actually suspended the preparation for the press of hisPrincipia, and lent all the influence of his position and his great name in order that an Englishman, distinguished for his virtues and his learning, might not, because he was a Catholic, receive the cheap recognition of the honorary degree of a Protestant university. And Newton's English biographer coolly states that "it was this circumstance, perhaps, as much as the personal merit of Newton, that induced the university to select him, the following year, to serve as their representative in parliament."
But space fails us to dwell on this subject, and we desire merely to note the fact that, so thoroughly has a spirit of intolerant anti-Catholicity permeated English literature, that its expression, in some shape, is constantly found at the points of the pens of many who are personally unconscious of any such inspiration.The spirit we refer to so thoroughly pervades every department of literature—history, biography, travels, poetry, philosophy—that from youth to old age it is unconsciously infiltrated into the mental processes of every one who uses the English language as a means of acquiring or communicating knowledge. Even as we write, an instance of this presents itself. Here is a passage from the editorial columns of a leading daily, published in Brooklyn, the third city of the Union:
"——the church so long deemed the enemy of human freedom and intellectual progress, which imprisoned Galileo, andtried to thwart Columbusin putting the girdle of her ancient faith around the world!"
And yet the article from which this extract is made is evidently written in a spirit that its author honestly supposes to be one of entire freedom from religious prejudice. The church tried to thwart Columbus! That is the main idea of the passage quoted, as it was also the inspiration of the Kauffman painting. Such ideas and such inspiration are the result of general prejudice and a foregone conclusion.
Of course we are aware of the accommodating pliability of the term "the church," as used by writers who have anything disagreeable or false to say of Catholicity. "The church" is, by turns, a council, the pope, the cardinals, the inquisition, a bishop or two, a knot of priests, sometimes only one, a king, a viceroy, a barefooted friar, a dying nun, or even a simple layman. It is really difficult and discouraging to deal with people who either cannot or will not abide by some standard of meaning for words whose proper acceptance is well defined and recognized.
In the case of Columbus these misrepresentations are the more remarkable for the reason that there is no history of the discovery of America, no biography of Columbus, how ever imperfect, however prejudiced it may be, from whose perusal the student can arise with any other conviction than that Columbus, so far from being thwarted, was, on the contrary, enabled to succeed in obtaining from Spain the means to fit out his expedition only, wholly, and solely by reason of the encouragement and aid he received from friars, priests, bishops, and cardinals!
From the moment he set foot on Spanish soil until he sailed from Palos the generous sympathy and brave advocacy of churchmen never forsook him. Never for a moment did they waver in their appreciation of his noble nature, his sincere piety, and the merit of his enterprise. From the Dominicans cloistered in St. Stephens to Luis de St. Angel, high treasurer at the royal court; from the saintly hermit of La Rabida to the grand Cardinal Mendoza, ("a man of sound judgment, quick intellect, eloquent and able," says Washington Irving,) in all are found the same generous enthusiasm and unwavering boldness in their support of the strange sailor's enterprise.
And now, should Mr. Kauffman, or any other artist, desirous of painting a great picture without pandering to a taste as false in art as in history, desire to select a striking incident from the history of Columbus, we beg leave to suggest that, without flying in the face of truth, he may find it among the following historical incidents:
First. Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, in appearance lofty and venerable, of generous and gentle deportment, pleading the cause of Columbus before the queen.
Second. The friar Diego de Deza aiding Columbus in sore necessity from his own scant purse.
Third. Juan Perez, prior of the convent of La Rabida, remonstrating with Columbus against abandoning his great enterprise and quitting Spain.
Fourth. The same prior saddling a mule at midnight to confront the dangers of mountain passes, and an enemy's country, in order to intercede for Columbus with the queen at Santa Fé.
Fifth. The same noble monk pleading the cause of Columbus before the queen with such chivalrous enthusiasm that "Isabella never heard the proposition urged with such honest zeal and impassioned eloquence."
Sixth. Another noble ecclesiastic, Luis de St. Angel, who, rivalling Isabella's magnanimity, met the queen's noble offer to pledge her crown jewels to raise the necessary funds for Columbus's expedition with the assurance that she need not, for he would advance the money.
But to return to the "council of Salamanca." The word council presents the idea of a solemn ecclesiastical assemblage: not a committee, not a board, not a junto; but something grand, elevated in dignity and large in numbers. When you say "council," every one, instinctively, imagines a crowd of mitres and episcopal croziers.
With that "fatal facility" which is the bane of historical composition Irving has given us an entire chapter of nine pages describing this famous "council," its debates, and its proceedings, and from this chapter has gradually, although—we must in justice to Mr. Irving say—unwarrantably, grown up a story that, by dint of thirty years' repetition, has almost acquired the dignity of an historical fact. That Prescott should have followed Irving is not surprising. That Lamartine should have disdained reference to historical sources and spoken of Spain of the fifteenth century with that wonderfulsans gênethat improvises both form and substance, that writes an apotheosis of Robespierre and calls it a history of the Girondins, in which there is, of course, a florid description of "the last banquet," (which never took place,) is still less surprising. But that a Spaniard and a serious historian, Don Modesto Lafuente, should have written an important page in the history of his country on the word of an entire stranger is astounding.
The whole of chapter third and part of chapter fourth of Irving'sLife and Voyages of Christopher Columbusare devoted to "the council." Irving represents Ferdinand "determined to take the opinion of the most learned men in the kingdom, and be guided by their decision." Ferdinand de Talavera, "one of the most erudite men of Spain and high in the royal confidence," was commanded to consult the most learned astronomers, etc. After they had informed themselves fully on the subject, they were to consult together and make a report to the sovereign of their collective opinion. After a long disquisition on the condition of learning and science at that time, Irving goes on to say: "Such was the period when a council of clerical sages was convened in the collegiate convent of St. Stephen to investigate the new theory of Columbus. It was composed of professors of astronomy, geography, mathematics and other branches of science, together with various dignitaries of the church and learned friars. … Among the number who were convinced by the reasoning and warmed by the eloquence of Columbus was Diego de Deza, a worthy and learned friar of the order of St. Dominick. He obtained for Columbus a dispassionate if not an unprejudiced hearing."Irving speaks of the assembled body as "this learned junto," and says that occasional conferences took place, but without producing any decision.
"Talavera, to whom the matter was specially entrusted, had too little esteem for it, and was too much occupied to press it to a conclusion, and thus the inquiry experienced continual procrastination and neglect."
So far the third chapter of Irving. It is a remarkable fact that, for all the important statements concerning the "council," Irving cites but one authority, Remesal, referring to book ii. chapter 27, and book xi. chapter 7. In an endeavor to verify these citations we find that book ii. has but twenty-two chapters, and the passage referred to in book xi. chapter 7 is not there, but in book ii. chapter 7. But it is more than singular that Irving should refer to Remesal at all on that subject. Remesal was a learned Dominican monk and his work is aHistory of the Provinces of Chiapa and Guatemala, (America.) His book was completed in 1609, and first published in 1619. Personally, he was separated from the events at Salamanca by a space of one hundred and twenty years. He was not writing the history of Spain in 1487, and what he says concerning Salamanca is merely incidental, unquestionably correct though it be. Thus, he states that, with the aid of the Dominicans, Columbus brought over the most learned men of the university, and among the numerous claims to greatness of the convent of St. Stephen was that of having been the principal cause of the discovery of the Indies. [Footnote 122]
[Footnote 122: "Y con el favor des los Religiosos reduxo a su opinion los mayores Letrados de la escuela. … Entre las muchas grundezas … una es aver sido la principal ocasion del descubrimiento de las Indias."]
To return to Irving. He relates in chapter 4 that the "consultations of the board (first it was the council, then "this learned junto") at Salamanca were interrupted by the Spanish campaign against Malaga, before that learned body could come to a decision, and for a long time Columbus was kept in suspense, vainly awaiting the report that was to decide the fate of his application." It thus appears that the opinion of the council was not sufficiently adverse to Columbus to report at once and unfavorably of his project. Then followed the spring campaign of 1487, the siege of Malaga, August, 1487. "In the spring of 1489," says Irving, "Columbus was summoned to attend a conference of learned men to be held at the city of Seville."
But if a fresh conference is to decide, what then was the value of the Salamanca council by whose decision, as Mr. Irving informed us a few pages back, King Ferdinand had resolved to be guided?
"In 1490, Ferdinand and Isabella entered Seville in triumph. Spring and summer wore away. At court was Fernando de Talavera,the procrastinating arbiter of the pretensions of Columbus." So then the arbiter was Talavera, not the council, which, so far from condemning, have not yet, at the end of four years, given any decision concerning the affair of Columbus.
The higher we remount with the authorities toward the epoch of "the council" the less do we find concerning it and concerning Salamanca. The chroniclers of their Catholic majesties, Hernando del Pulgar, Galindez, Carvajal, and others, make no mention of it, and Peter Martyr, Lucio Siculo, Gonzalez de Oviedo, Lopez de Gomara, and Sohs are equally silent on the subject.
It must be borne in mind, with regard to Columbus, that historical certainty begins really with the siege of Granada, in 1492. Everything preceding that epoch is traditional, often vague and uncertain, and seldom supported by documentary evidence. A council at Salamranca held by royal order would have been authorized by special edict or decree. There was none. Neither was there any regular delegation to the university, no commission officially installed, no interrogatories, nor registers, nor records, followed by a definitive decree. The college and convent of St. Stephen (Dominican) was only one college of the many at Salamanca constituting the university. If such a council as Irving describes had ever been held there, reference to recorded proceedings, and a final decision in its archives, or in those of St. Stephen, could long since have been made.
The truth is that the only authority for any statements concerning a committee of cosmographers is a passage in the life of the grand admiral, written by his son Fernando Columbus. As already remarked, the nearer we approach the period of the pretended "council" the less we hear about it. Herrera, whose sagacity, impartiality, and fidelity are universally recognized, thus relates the matter of the cosmographers, but not once does he mention "council" or "Salamanca." He says (1st Dec. book i, chap. vii.) "that Columbus's suit was so home pressed (y tanto se porfiò en ello) that their Catholic majesties, giving some attention to the affair, referred it to father Ferdinand de Talavera. He (Talavera) held a meeting of cosmographers who debated about it, (qui confirieron en ello,) but there being few then of that profession in Castile, and those none of the best in the world, and besides Columbus would not altogether explain himself, lest he should be served as he had been in Portugal, [Footnote 123] they came to a resolution nothing answerable to what he had expected."
[Footnote 123: During his negotiation at Lisbon with the king of Portugal, Columbus was requested to furnish for the consideration of the royal council a detailed plan of his proposed voyage, with charts and documents according to which he intended to shape his course. As soon as these were obtained, a well-manned vessel, under command of an able captain, was despatched with orders to sail west on the Atlantic according to the instructions of Columbus. Some few days out from the Cape Verd Islands, the crew became discouraged, and the vessel returned. The secret of its mission soon transpired, and Columbus, outraged at the treachery, left Portugal in disgust.]
Herrera follows Ferdinand Columbus very closely; adopting, in many passages, his very words. Fernando makes no mention of Salamanca, says expressly that the cosmographers were called altogether by Talavera, and that Columbus held back his most important proofs lest what had happened him in Portugal might also happen him in Spain, (nè lo ammiraglio si volea lasciar tanto intendere che gli avenisse quel, che in Portogallo gli avvenne et gli urbassero la beniditione.)
Fernando Columbus was a man of learning and ability, and his history is of great value. Unfortunately, the work, as he wrote it, is lost. It was, of course, in the Spanish language. It is said that a son of his brother Diego took the MS. to Genoa, where it was translated into Italian. The version now used in Spain is retranslated from the Italian, and abounds in errors. There is a very good copy of the Italian edition (Venice, 1685) in the Astor library.
Munoz, the Spanish national historian who followed Herrera and precedes Navarette, was a scholar of great merits, talents, and liberal acquisitions. He was indefatigable in research, and being royal historiographer had free access to all the records of Spain. He says that Talavera was commissioned to examine the enterprise with cosmographers, and give their opinion.As the court happened that winter to be at Salamanca, they met there. It is to be regretted that no record exists of the conferences that took place in the Dominican convent of St. Stephen, from which to form an opinion of the condition of mathematics and astronomy in the university so famous in the fifteenth century.It is clear, nevertheless, that Columbus established his propositions, produced his proofs, and met every objection. [Footnote 124]
[Footnote 124: Talavera á quien los reyes encargaron la comision de juntar à los sujetis habiles in cosmografia, para examinar la empresa, y dar su pareceo. Formose la junta en Salamanca, quizá per el invierno estando alli la corte. Es lastima quo no hayan quidado documentis de las disputas que se tuvieron en el convento de los dominicanos de San Esteban para formar juicio del estado de las matematicas y astronomia en aquella universidad famosa en el siglo XV. Coustu que Colon sentaban sus proposisciones, exponfa sus fundamentos, y satisfaciá a' las dificultades.]
Munoz (Historia del Nuevo Mundo, pp. 57, 58, 59) continues: "Los dominicanos poner entre sus glorias el haber hospedado en San Esteban al descubridor de las Indias, dadole de comer y otros auxilios para seguir sus pretensiones; y sobra todo el haber estado por su opinion en equellas disputas, y atraido á su partido los primeros hombres de la escuela. En lo qual attribuyen la principal parte á Fray Diego Deza. … cuyo autoridad. … contribuyó mucho para los creditos y acceptacion de la empresa." [Footnote 125]
[Footnote 125: The Dominicans are justly proud of the hospitality extended by them in their convents to the discoverer of America, entertaining him, and providing him with all things necessary to pursue his projects; and still more of having declared for him in the argument, drawing over to his side the first men of the university. In all which the great merit is due to Diego de Deza, whose influence contributed greatly to the appreciation and adoption of the enterprise.]
Only a few years since, in 1858, Don Domingo Doncel y Ordar, of Salamanca, published a memoir in which he refutes the statements of Irving.
A conference of cosmographers doubtless was held, but it was not of the nature described by Irving and those who copy him, nor was it a "council" with which the university of Salamanca had any official connection whatever.
The archives, documents, and registers of the university have been searched with the most thorough diligence, and not a trace of the council is on record. The registers in particular, admirably kept and carefully preserved, were commenced in 1464 and record incidents almost insignificant in interest, but make no mention of such a meeting or council as Irving speaks of. In this connection it is matter of surprise that such writers as Rosselly De Lorgues and Cadoret should still be chasing the phantom of this Salamanca council. The latter says that its decree was rendered five years after its first meeting, and De Lorgues supposes it probable that its records may yet be found in the archives of Simancas. If there had been any decision against Columbus by a body at all approaching the dignity and importance of the university of Salamanca, he would have immediately quitted Spain, never to return. But we find him leaving Salamanca strong in the support of its first scholars, of the entire body of Dominicans, and of the papal nuncio.
That King Ferdinand should have directed Talavera to take the opinion of cosmographers is perfectly natural. This temporizing and shuffling treatment of Columbus would lead him to do anything that would gain time and put Columbus off. Even Isabella was evidently desirous of procrastinating until a successful termination of the siege of Granada should enable them to act in the matter.
Reference to a committee or a board for the sake of delay indefinite is not an invention of the nineteenth century. It is as old as, if not older than, the period of Columbus.That Columbus should, as his son Fernando relates, have hesitated to explain himself fully, was natural, and indeed inevitable. And with that hesitation there must have been a shade of disdain in his manner. It looks very much as though he had reserved his best, most cogent reasons for the private ear of his special friends the Dominicans, who were enthusiastically the advocates of his enterprise.
We see Columbus leaving Salamanca not cast down and defeated, but serene and with all the courage of confirmed conviction. The noble Diego de Deza conducts him to the presence of Ferdinand and Isabella, and we soon afterward hear the hum of preparation at Palos.
The latest historian of Columbus, Mr. Arthur Helps, separated from Washington Irving by a period of some forty years, is credited with ability, and great industry and research. He certainly has the advantage of extensive and successful discoveries of documents concerning Columbus made in Spain within that period. It would be but reasonable, therefore, to look for the throwing of much additional light and interesting details on so capital an incident as "the council of Salamanca." Here is the account given of it by Mr. Helps in hisLife of Columbus, published since the commencement of the present year:
"Amid the clang of arms and the bustle of warlike preparation, Columbus was not likely to obtain more than a slight and superficial attention to a matter which must have seemed remote and uncertain.
"Indeed, when it is considered that the most pressing internal affairs of kingdoms are neglected by the wisest rulers in times of war, it is wonderful that he succeeded in obtaining any audience at all. However, he was fortunate enough to find at once a friend in the treasurer of the household, Alonzo de Quintilla, a man who, like himself, took delight in great things, and who obtained a hearing for him from the Spanish monarchs. Ferdinand and Isabella did not dismiss him abruptly. On the contrary, it is said they listened kindly; and the conference endedby their referring the business to the queen's confessor, Fra Hernando de Talavera, who was afterwards archbishop of Granada. This important functionary summoned a junta of cosmographers (not a promising assemblage!) to consult about the affair, and this junta was convened at Salamanca in the summer of the year 1487.
"Here was a step gained; the cosmographers were to consider his scheme, and not merely to consider whether it was worth taking into consideration. But it was impossible for the jury to be unprejudiced. All inventors, to a certain extent, insult their contemporaries by accusing them of stupidity and ignorance. And the cosmographical pedants, accustomed to beaten tracks, resented the heresy by which this adventurer was attempting to overthrow the belief of centuries. They thought that so many persons, wise in nautical matters, as had preceded the Genoese mariner, never could have overlooked such an idea as this which had presented itself to his mind. Moreover, as the learning of the middle ages resided for the most part in the cloister, the members of the junta were principally clerical, and combined to crush Columbus with theological objections. … Las Casas displays his usual acuteness when he says that the great difficulty of Columbus was not that of teaching, but that of unteaching; not of promulgating his own theory, but of eradicating the erroneous convictions of the judges before whom he had to plead his cause. In fine, the junta decided that the project was 'vain and impossible, and that it did not belong to the majesty of such great princes to determine anything upon such weak grounds of information.'"
Slender material, all this, for another Kauffman painting! Here is our council sunk to a junta—a junta of cosmographers—not an assemblage of theologians to decide what the church thought about the project, but a junta of men supposed to know something of geography and the conformation of the globe! The "theological objections" referred to by Mr. Helps were precisely the opportunity of Columbus's greatest triumph in giving him occasion to reveal himself to friends and enemies in a capacity never suspected to exist in him.Among the many traditions in Spain concerning "l'almirante" [Footnote 126] —traditions supported by his own writings and the testimony of such men as Las Casas—none are so well established as those that recount the eloquent inspiration of Columbus in citing or commenting the Scriptures. His perfect familiarity with them was not more admirable than his majesty of manner in declaiming their grandest passages.
[Footnote 126: Humboldt says that whenever a Spaniard mentionsL'Almirante, he refers to but one, namely, Columbus. Just as the Mexicans, when they speak of El Marchese, mean Cortes, and the Florentines, when they nameIl Segretario, mean Macchiavelli.]
Luther, as we learn from that remarkable book,D'Aubigné's History of the Reformation, discovered, unexpectedly discovered, to his great joy and surprise, a Bible chained to a window in the conventual library! Could not some modern D'Aubigné inform us how it was that an obscure Italian sailor could have happened upon a Bible in such countries as Italy, Portugal, and Spain, could have been permitted to read it—more than all that, could have had the temerity to quote it to the very face of monks, and priests, and, worse still, show them that he knew as much about it as they did? We commend the subject to the D'Aubigné editors.
In saying that, in our belief, the life of Columbus has yet to be written, we express no new opinion.
In this connection it is well remarked by the Marquis De Belloy, that the best history of Christopher Columbus would be the collection of his own writings accompanied by commentaries. Literary and bibliographical research and labor in Spain have succeeded in collecting nearly everything that Columbus wrote from the year 1492 up to the period of his death, and their publication is needed to show this truly grand character in his true light. Were Columbus simply a man of genius, an ordinary history would suffice to recount his life. But his soul was as great as his genius, and such a soul is its own best revelation. Next to the accomplishments of his great project, the discovery of a new world beyond the ocean, a world he distinctly saw, his dominant thought was—with the wealth that must necessarily be obtained from it—to reconquer and deliver from pagan hands the sepulchre of our Saviour!
Profane history and modern impiety instinctively smile at such simplicity. Mr. Rosselly De Lorgues is one of the very few who have rendered justice to the religious phase of the character of the great mariner, and he shows that in Columbus constancy, perseverance, bravery, and honor were not more marked than elevated Catholic piety.
To conclude with Salamanca, there is no more searching, truthful, and eloquent commentary on its results than the language of Columbus himself, for he has recorded it. We quote from Navarette (Madrid edition) vol. 1. p. xcii.:
"Diego de Deza"—the Dominican monk—"was his (Columbus's) special protector with Ferdinand and Isabella, and mainly contributed to the success of his enterprise; referring to this, Columbus himself said that from his coming into Castile that prelate (Deza) had protected him, had striven for his honor, and to him was it due that their majesties possessed the Indies." [Footnote 127]
[Footnote 127: "Por lo cual decia el mismo Colon quedesdeque vino á Castilla le habia favorecido aquel prelado y deseado su honora, y que el fue causa que SS. AA. tuviesen las Indias."]
For this passage Navarette quotes Remesal,Historia di Chiapa e Guatemala. A very characteristic performance in Navarette! It was impossible for him to avoid referring to what Columbus had said, and he weakens the force of it by not crediting it at once and directly to the proper authority, Las Casas—citing Las Casas's own words.
For Remesal expressly says that he takes it from Las Casas, (lib. i. al medio del cap. 29:) "Y assi (dize) en carta escrita de su mano de Christobal Colon vide que dezia al Rey: Que el suso dicho Maestro del Principe, Arcobispo de Sevilla D.F.Diego Deza avia fido causa que los Reyes abrassen las Indias."
It is one thing to be told that Remesal uses the language cited by Navarette, and quite another thing to learn from Las Casas that he had seena letter written by Columbus himself, in which he told the king of Spain that their majesties owed their possession of the Indies to the Dominican monk Diego de Deza.
Nothing, however, need surprise us from a historian who undertook the desperate task of extenuating the notorious injustice of Ferdinand toward Columbus. In its execution Navarette has needlessly and shamefully outraged the truth of history and the memory of the Great Discoverer.
.
Mr. Southard was perfectly confident in his expectation of being able to convince Miss Hamilton of her mistake. He knew her well enough to be sure that she would fearlessly acknowledge her error as soon as it should be made plain to her; and he did not doubt that the power to produce that conviction on her mind would be given him.
He would not allow that first twinge of wounded personal pride and dignity of office, with which he had seen how light she held his authority in matters of religion, to stand in the way of his endeavors. The first dignity of his office was to perform its duties. Exacting respect was secondary.
Mr. Southard had one confident: his journal. The day the books were left on his table he wrote in it: "Tonight I am to read Milner'sEnd of Controversy. O my God! may I read it by the light of thy Gospel! May a ray of heavenly truth fall on each page, expose its hidden falsehood, and teach me how best to prove that falsehood to this stray lamb who has been lured from thy fold into the den of the wolf."
Two or three days passed, the book was read, and read again; but the refutation was not ready. Mr. Southard was too honest and too manly to think that personal abuse was a proper answer to theological argument. He remembered that when St. Michael set his foot upon the neck of Satan, and chained him to the rock, he did not use infernal weapons, or walk in loathsome ways; but his sword was tempered in heaven, and there was no mire upon his sandals.
"When I fight for the Lord," the minister said, "I will use the weapons of the Lord."
He laid aside the first book, and took another. Again a few days, and yet he was not prepared to undermine his adversary.
"I am astonished at the ingenuity and subtlety of these writers," was the record he made in those days. "All the resources of minds richly dowered by nature, highly cultivated by education, and inspired by some strange infatuation for what they call the church, have been brought to bear upon this question of polemics. How skilfully they mingle truth with falsehood! What beautiful, what touching, what sublime sentiments they drop in places where one would not go save so lured! It reminds me of my boyish days, when the scarlet blossom of a cardinal-flower would entice me down steep banks, and into dangerous waters, or some bloomy patch of ripe berries would draw my feet into a treacherous swamp. I begin to perceive the attraction which the Roman Church exercises on the unwary."
It will be perceived that Mr. Southard had the rare courtesy not to use the word "Romish." He was so much a gentleman that he could not call nicknames, not even in theological controversy.
But as his days of study lengthened into weeks, a change came over him. The obstacles in his way made him nervous, feverish, and, it must be owned, rather ill-tempered. His political opposition to Mr. Lewis was expressed with unusual asperity. He was very haughty with Miss Hamilton. He entirely absented himself from luncheon, and he sometimes dined out, rather than sit beside that smiling papist who was doubtless triumphing over him in her heart, taking his silence for defeat. He groaned as he heard her light step pass his door every morning on her way to early mass. That step was hisréveil. Should he, the Gospel watchman, sleep while the foe was awake and at work?
"Why cannot truth inspire as much ardor as error awakens?" he wrote one morning. "Why cannot we bring back the old days of faith, when God was to man a power, and not a name; when the tables of the law were stone to the touch; when he who made flood, and fire, and death was more terrible than flood, fire, or death? The author ofEcce Homois right; no virtue is safe that is not enthusiastic. A cold religion is a worthless religion. O Lord! have mercy on Zion; for it is time to have mercy on it."
But, angry as he was with her every morning, when Mr. Southard met Margaret coming in again from mass, her face smiling, her cheeks red from the cold, he could but forgive her. It is hard to frown on a bright face, happiness looks so much like goodness.
Mr. Granger took notice of these early walks, Mr. Lewis alternately scowled upon and laughed at them. Mrs. Lewis and Aurelia exclaimed, How dared she go out alone before light!
The wicked people, if there were any, were all asleep, Miss Hamilton said, sitting down to breakfast with a most unromantic appetite, and a general preponderance of rose-color and sparkle in her countenance. At six o'clock on winter mornings no one was abroad but papists and policemen. It was the safest hour of the twenty-four.
"My good angel and I just go about our business, and nobody molests us," she said with a spice of mischief; for the mention of anything peculiarly Catholic usually had the effect of producing a blank silence, and a general elongation of visage.
"But such a magnificent spectacle as I saw this morning! I came home round the Common. The sleet-storm of last evening had left all the trees crusted with ice to the very tips of their twigs, and set an ice-mitre on every individual arrow-head of the iron fence. There were the ghosts of all the bishops from Peter down. There wasn't any sky, but only a vast crystalline distance. I took my stand on the Beacon and Charles street corner. Every other person who was so happy as to be out looked also. Then the sun came up. Park street steeple caught fire at the ball, and flamed all the way down. There was a glimmer on the topmost twigs, then the trees all over the Common were in an instant transfigured into flashing diamonds. The malls were enough to put your eyes out—nothing but glitter from end to end. It was a grand display for the frost-people. The trees will talk about it all next summer."
The winter slipped away; and Mr. Southard had not fulfilled his promise to Miss Hamilton. Neither had he relinquished his studies. Shut up with his books hour after hour and day after day, in silence and solitude, he scarcely knew how the world fared without. For him the war had suddenly dwindled. Through long and weary vigils that wore his face thin and his eyes hollow, he studied, and thought, and prayed, not the humble petition of one who places himself before God, and passively awaits an inspiration, but the impassioned and fiery petition of one who will not doubt the justice of his cause, and will not be denied. Then, leaning from the window to cool his heated eyes and head in the fresh early dawning, a peace that was half exhaustion would settle upon him. Sleep came pitifully in those hours, and pressed on the throbbing brain too much expanded by thought, and for a little while soothed the tormented heart.
His journal bore traces of the conflict.
"I will resist the seduction! This is my time of trial; but I will conquer! In the name of God, I will yet confound the doctors of the Roman Church. O God! who didst nerve the arm of David against Goliath, strengthen thou me!"
At every step he was baffled. Catching at what appeared a mere theological weed, thinking to fling it out of his way, he found it rooted like an oak. Approaching dogmas with the expectation of cutting them down like men of straw, he was confronted by mailed giants.
He found himself among crowds and clouds of Catholic saints—shadows, he called them—that would fly from his path when he should hold up the torch of truth. But, looking in that light, he saw steadfast eyes, and shining foreheads, and palm-branches that brushed his shrinking, empty hands. And out from among them, with a look of gentle humility that smote him like a blow, and with a tremulous radiance gathering about her pure forehead, came one whom he had frowned upon, and striven to discrown. What was she saying? "All nations shall call me blessed!" Not great, not glorious, not even lovely, butblessed!
"Well—she—was blessed," admitted the minister.
The next moment he started out of his chair, muttered some kind of exorcism, caught his hat, and went out for a walk. Though it was mid-April, a north wind was blowing thank heaven for that! Nothing murky about the north wind.It would soon blow away all these pestilential vapors that came up from the sun-steeped lowlands of his soul; pagan places where, though his iconoclastic will had again and again gone about breaking images, no sooner did it rest than there they were again, Bacchus, and Hebe, and Diana, and the rest. Or from yet more dangerous because more deceptive regions, wide, bright solitudes of the soul, arid and dazzling, where the unobstructed sky seemed to lean upon the earth—the region of mirages, of New Jerusalems, that shone and crumbled—of sacred-seeming streams that fled from thirsty lips—of cool shadows that never were reached.
In one of these impetuous walks, Mr. Southard came across an old minister, and went into his study with him, and told him something of his difficulties. He was too well aware of his own excitement to venture on a full explanation. Moreover, there was something soothing and silencing in the look of this man, in his tranquil, rather sad expression, his noble face, and snowy hair.
The old doctor leaned back in his chair, and calmly listened while his younger brother spoke, smiling indulgently now and then at some vivid turn of expression, some flash of the eyes, some impatient gesture.
Elderly ministers were always pleased with Mr. Southard, who would ask advice and instruction of them with a docility that was almost childlike. Such respect was very pleasant to those who seemed to have fallen upon evil days, who saw the prestige of the ministry departing, to whom boys had ceased to take off their caps, to whom even women did not look up as of yore.
"My dear brother," said the doctor gently when the other had ceased speaking, "you have made a mistake in attempting this work. I tell you frankly, we can never argue down the Catholic Church. All the old theologians know that, and avoid the contest. For perfect consistency with itself, and for wonderful complexity yet harmony of structure, the world has not seen, and will not again see its equal. It is the masterwork of the arch-enemy."
"So much the more reason why we should attack it with all our might!" exclaimed the other.
"No," replied the doctor, "That does not follow. There are dangers which must be shunned, not met; and this is one. As with wine, so with Romanism, 'touch not, taste not, handle not!'"
"That might be said to the laity," Mr. Southard persisted. "But for us who teach theology, we ought to search, we ought to examine. It is essential that we know the weapons of our adversary in order to destroy them."
"Truth has many phases, and so has belief," was the quiet reply. "We begin by believing that the doctrines we hold are the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and that everything else is unmitigated falsehood. But after a while, according to the degree of candor of which we are capable, we begin to admit that every religion on earth has something reasonable to say for itself. There is a grain of good in Mohammedanism, in Brahminism, in Buddhism. We are now credibly assured that the old story of people throwing themselves under the wheels of Juggernaut is a myth. Hindu converts say that there were sometimes accidents at these religious celebrations, on account of the crowd, as we have accidents on the fourth of July; but that Juggernaut was a beneficent deity who took no pleasure in human pain, and whose attributes were a dim reflection of Christianity.I used to tell that story in perfect good faith whenever a collection was wanted for the missionaries. I don't tell it now. At last we learn to choose what seems to us best, to present its advantages to others, but not to insist that all shall agree with us under pain of eternal loss. When I hear a man crying out violently against the purely religious opinions of others, I always set him down as a man of narrow heart and narrower head. The principal reason for my well-known hostility to Catholicism is a political one.
"The fact is, brother, God's light falling on the mind of man, is like sunlight falling on a prism. It is no longer the pure white, but is shattered into colors which each one catches according to his humor. We ministers are not like Moses coming from the mountain with the whole law in his two hands, and a dazzling face to testify for him that he had been with God, he alone. I wish we were, brother! I wish we were!"
"But faith," exclaimed the other, "is there no faith?"
"We believe in the essentials; and they are few."
"How shall we prove them?"
"As the Catholic Church proves them. She holds the whole truth tangled in the midst of her errors, like a fly in a spider's web."
Mr. Southard sat a moment, looking steadily, almost sternly, at his companion.
"Then you and I have no mission," he said. "We are not divinely called."
"Whithersoever a man goes, there is he called," said the doctor, sighing faintly. "We among the rest. We have a mission, too, and a noble one. We make people keep the Sabbath, which, without us, would fall into disuse; we remind them of their duties; we check immorality; we keep before the eyes of worldlings the fact that there is another world than this. In short, we spend our breath in keeping alive the sacred fire on the desecrated altar of the human soul. Is that nothing?"
In speaking, the doctor lifted his head, and drew up his stately form. His voice trembled with feeling, and his eyes were full of indignant tears. His look was proud, almost defiant; yet seemed directed less against his companion, than combating some voice in his own soul. All the enthusiastic dreams of his youth, though they had long since been subdued, as he thought, by common sense and necessity, stirred in their graves at sound of the imperious questioning, at sight of the clear, searching eyes of this young visionary who fancied that in the troubled spirit of man the full orb of truth was to be reflected unblurred.
"In short," Mr. Southard said, rising to go, "you believe that the spirit of evil can propose a problem which the Holy Spirit cannot solve."
"Not so!" was the reply; "but the spirit of evil may propose a problem which the Holy Spirit may not choose to solve for us till the end of time."