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Christoplier ('()luiiil>us 
 
Chrtstopher 
 
 Cofumbiis 
 
 InR)etri 
 and 
 
 By Sara Agnes Ryan 
 
 I L LUSTRA TED 
 
 With an Introduction by Rev. F. X. McCabe, C. M., LL. D,, 
 President of De Paul University, Chicago 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 The Mayer and Miller Company 
 1917 
 
£77// 
 
 ■f92 
 
 Copyright, 1917, 
 By Sara Agnes Ryan 
 
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 ^ni^Iits of Columbus 
 
 tl]is ixtoxk IB 
 rEBpectfulIg bebtcatcb 
 
'QTIic story of Coliunhue iaili nefxev grofa olb. ^t ia 
 ^^ otts tl|at clfamts tl|e more as it ts reab ntorc fre- 
 quently, ^et, for ail tlyat, tlye foorlh ktto&s itta little of 
 tl|is faonberful cijaracter nnb l|is more fconherful 6iorfe. 
 
 ^f tlje tntti| foere tolb, Columbus i|as heen tl^e most 
 neglecteb nnh uuImo6m of all tl|e great men of ijistory. 
 (All Ijonors foere bmieb I|im iu life aub uot till lon^ 
 after l|is bcatl| hib meu be^in ta appreciate l|is aci|ie&e- 
 ments- ^e, l|o6ie6cr, sougl^t none of tl|ese tljings. ^is 
 foas a simple soul filleh 6jitl| a geaming ta ba for otl|ers. 
 Jiis faitl| 6ias of tlje litgl^est inpe nnb Ije ia'isl\eb all men 
 to he Messeb toitly tljat same faitlf. 
 
 '(Hoa mucl|, tl|erefore, cannot be bone to place l]im 
 6il|ere l|e belongs- ©oo mucly catttiat be bone tl|at tlje 
 foorlb of tobag, anb particularly our aiatt JVmerica, mag 
 learn Ijofo mucly it oioes ta tl|e simple faitlj anb un- 
 baunteb courage of tije C^reat ^a^igator. 
 
 ®i|e present faork foill contribute not a littU ta- 
 foarbs making Columbus better kno&in in tl|e lanb of 
 tlfose enjoying tl|e fruits of l|is genius. J^is life l|as 
 beenjtn inspiration to tlje poet, tlye l]istorian, tl|e artist. 
 
 ^n ti|is bolume tl]e autI|or l|as brougl]t togctl]er li|e 
 gems contributeb bg "^oetrg, JHistory anb J^rt." ^Ije 
 Ijas tljen ixtaben a beautiful crofon anb placeb it upon 
 tiie braia of l|im fijI|o beihbtb in l|is Olob anb bareb 
 sacrifice all tljat otljcrB migl|t sljare tl|at belief. 
 
 If. 3C. ^c(Enbt, C. ^. 'ijrfi. §, 
 Pc '^nul Pttt&ersitg, C!Il|tcago. 
 JJfcaat of % Exaltation nf tl|e ^ol^ Cross, 1916. 
 
Grateful acknowledgments are hereby ten- 
 dered to the following persons and publishers 
 for permitting the use of their copyrighted 
 poems : 
 
 Miss Harriet Monroe; Major S. H. M. Byers; 
 Mr. William Allen Butler, for his father, Wil- 
 liam Allen Butler; Mr. Louis J. Block; C. C. 
 Birchard & Company, for John Vance Cheney; 
 The Catholic World, for John Jerome Eooney, 
 George Parsons Lathrop, and Mary Agnes 
 Tucker ; The Lothrop, Lee & Shephard Co., for 
 William Gibson; The Houghton Mifflin Com- 
 pany, for John T. Trowbridge, Edna Dean 
 Proctor and James Russell Lowell; The Page 
 Company, for Hezekiah Butterworth; The 
 Prang Company, for Emily Shaw Forman ; Mr. 
 Horace Traubel, for Walt Whitman. 
 
 Sincere gratitude is tendered also for assist- 
 ance in the illustrating to the Art Institute of 
 Chicago, the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, and 
 to Mr. Franklin Adams, the Editor of the Pan- 
 American Union Bulletin. 
 
 If copyrighted material has been used with- 
 out permission it has been done unknowingly, 
 or because the efforts to locate the proper 
 authorities have been of no avail. Corrections 
 will be gratefully received and acknowledged. 
 
AUTHORS QUOTED IN THE TEXTS 
 
 Louis James Block. 
 
 Joanna Baillie. 
 
 Henry Howard Brownell. 
 
 William Allen Butler. 
 
 Hezekiali Butterworth. 
 
 S. H. M. Byers. 
 
 John Vance Cheney. 
 
 Arthur Hugh Clough. 
 
 R. L. Corbaria. 
 
 W. J. Craudall. 
 
 Front de Boeuf. 
 
 Leonardo de Carminis. 
 
 Aubrey de Vere. 
 
 Giuliano Dati. 
 
 Delavigne. 
 
 Maurice Francis Egan. 
 
 Emily Shaw Forman. 
 
 Philip Freneau. 
 
 William Gibson, 
 
 Edward Everett Hale. 
 
 Benjamin J. Hill. 
 
 George Washington Wright 
 
 Houghton. 
 George Parsons Lathrop. 
 James Russell Lowell. 
 
 E. Bulwer Lytton. 
 Theodore A. Metcalf. 
 Joel Marlow. = B.-i^t^oi^ 
 Harriet Monroe. 
 James Montgomery. 
 Henry Nutcombe Oxenham. 
 Edna Dean Proctor. 
 Reginald C. Robbins. 
 Samuel Rogers. 
 John Jerome Rooney. 
 Albert J. Rupp. 
 St. Paul. 
 Schiller. 
 
 Lydia Huntley Sigourney. 
 John Lancaster Spalding. 
 Eliza Allen Starr. 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 May Agnes Tincker. 
 J. T. Trowbridge. 
 Henry T. Tuckerman. 
 Henry Vignaud. 
 Walt Whitman. 
 J. G. Whittier. t 
 Wiffin. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 '' Portrait of Columbus. 
 
 Home of Columbus. 
 
 The Boy Columbus. 
 
 Doria Palace at Genoa. 
 
 t' La Rabida at Huelva. 
 
 ^ Columbus Asking for Bread and Water for His Son 
 at the Convent of La Rabida. 
 Columbus Before the Council at Salamanca. 
 '- The Hall of the Tribunal of Justice — ^the Alhambra. 
 «- Isabella Pledging Her Jewels. 
 ^ Tombs of Ferdinand and Isabella at Granada. 
 *^olumbus Taking Leave of Prior Perez at Palos. 
 '^ The Departure of Columbus. 
 »^ Columbus on Deck of the Santa Maria. 
 ' Columbus Received by the Catholic Sovereigns at 
 Barcelona. 
 Columbus in Chains. 
 - Mausoleum in Cathedral at Santo Domingo. 
 i^Statue at Santo Domingo. 
 y Monument on Watling 's Island. 
 ■^Monument and Fountain at Washington, D. C. 
 Detail of Same. 
 "Statue in Lima, Peru. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS, 
 
 In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 I. The Time, the Place and the Man 17 
 
 Genoa. 
 
 II. Preparation :]-) 
 
 Portugal, 
 
 III. The Agony of Suspense 37 
 
 Spain. 
 
 IV. The Great Voyage 77 
 
 The Sea of Darkness. 
 
 V. The Smile of a King II5 
 
 Barcelona. 
 
 VI. Ignominy and Death 129 
 
 Valladolid. 
 
 VII. Posthumous Glory I57 
 
 Throughout the World. 
 
 Lourdes and the Eucharistic Congress 167 
 
 Some Memories of IMexico 185 
 
 Personal Letters and Testimonials to Miss Ryan per- 
 taining to her book, "Florence in Poetry, His- 
 tory and Art" 22o 
 
Home (if ('oliiiiihus's Boyhood, (icnoa 
 
Christopher Columbus 
 
 IN POETRY, HISTORY AND ART 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE MAN : 
 GENOA. 
 
 There are urchins still playing about the 
 doorway of No. 37, Vico dritto del Ponticello, in 
 Genoa, the building owned by the Municipality 
 and conserved by a commission appointed for 
 that purpose. 
 
 The tablet over the door commemorates in 
 Latin the fact that "No house better deserves 
 an inscription. This is the paternal home of 
 Christopher Columbus, in which he passed his 
 boyhood and youth." 
 
 Even those boys playing in the shadow of 
 that building have a special interest to the lov- 
 er of poetry, of history and of art, no less than 
 to the philosopher and psychologist. 
 
 Does the august spirit of the mighty naviga- 
 tor hover near, or does the presence of that 
 building conserved so jealousy, inspire those 
 fellow citizens to lofty ideals ? 
 
 Was that boy who played there so long ago 
 conscious of the career to which he was called? 
 What presence overshadowed him, and what 
 voices whispered his destiny? 
 
 17 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 The boy, ''the father of the man," is shown 
 to us in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, 
 wrought in marble by Giulio Monteverde. He 
 is seated upon a post, of course by the sea, and 
 is dreaming his dreams that came true at last, 
 and tore asunder the veil that hid the one half 
 world. But that early time of his childhood is 
 not dwelt upon in his writings and it is only 
 the poets ' fancies that rehabilitate it for us : 
 
 ' ' clouds ! Far clouds like languages that rise, 
 Blown breath made visible from lips all-wise ; 
 Tracing dim characters of mystic form, 
 And signs of wonder in the distant heaven; 
 What speak ye to mef Not of rolling storm, 
 Unrest, or tremulous calm, to this life given: 
 Nay! But a message from the farthest skies, 
 God's living air, 
 That strangely calls: 'Arise, 
 Go forth, and bear!' 
 
 So spoke the heaven. And I, Columbus, heard ; 
 Columbus, the gray Admiral, known to you. 
 I, from the twilight hollows of the past 
 That then were thrilled with dawn, the Word 
 recall. 
 
 Wind-buffeted and worn, and steeped in grief ; 
 Salt spray and bitter tears upon my face ; 
 So now you see me. But I, then, was young ; 
 And there at Genoa on the quay I dreamed 
 And saw the future. Yea: 'Arise, go forth, 
 And bear!' 
 
 18 
 
(,■;»/« Monlrvn-.lf 
 
 Thi' Hoy ( 'oliimbiis 
 In the Hoston Muhcum of Fine Arts 
 
The Time, The Place and The Man. 
 
 By day the moving shapes of cloud, 
 Solemn or bright, that message mutely spelled ; 
 As though the speech of nations age-long dead 
 Were writ in shadowy lines upon the sky. 
 Bidding me do God's will! At night, in fire 
 That high command blazed out through all the 
 
 stars, 
 Whence gleamed the gaze of wise men in the 
 
 past, 
 But, over all, God 's light that led me on. 
 
 A boy ! Yet through the awful stress of years, 
 Of storm and conflagration, wreck and war, 
 Of men's wild strife and murder, I kept the 
 
 Faith, 
 A child's faith, pure." 
 
 — George Parsons Lathrop. 
 
 *^The crimson sun was sinking down to rest, 
 Pavilioned on the cloudy verge of heaven ; 
 And ocean, on her gently heaving breast. 
 Caught and flashed back the varying tints of 
 
 even. 
 When, on a fragment from the tall cliff riven, 
 With folded arms, and doubtful thoughts 
 
 opprest, 
 Columbus sat, till sudden hope was given — 
 A ray of gladness shooting from the West! 
 what a glorious vision for mankind 
 Then dawned upon the twilight of his mind — 
 Though shadowy still, but indistinctly grand I 
 
 19 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 There stood his genie, face to face, and signed 
 (So legend tells us) far seaward with her hand: 
 Till a new world sprang up, and bloomed be- 
 neath her wand!" . , , -rr 
 
 — Aubrey de Vere. 
 
 '*I know not when this hope enthralled me first, 
 But from my boyhood up I loved to hear 
 The tall pine-forests of the Apennines 
 Murmur their hoary legends of the sea, 
 Which hearing, I in vision clear beheld 
 The sudden dark of tropic night shut down 
 O'er the huge whisper of watery wastes. 
 
 To this one hope my heart hath clung for many 
 
 years, 
 As would a foundling to the talisman 
 Hung round his neck by hands he knew not 
 
 whose ; 
 A poor, vile thing and dross to all beside. 
 Yet he therein can feel a virtue left 
 By the sad pressure of a mother's hand. 
 
 This hope hath been to me for love and fame, 
 Hath made me wholly lonely on the earth. 
 Building me up as in a thick-ribbed tower, 
 Wherewith enwalled my watching spirit burned. 
 
 ^ jt. j(. ji, jf. jt. 
 
 While other youths perplexed their mandolins. 
 Praying that Thetis would her fingers twine 
 In the loose glories of her lover's hair, 
 
 20 
 
The Time, The Place and The Man. 
 
 And while another kiss to keep back day, 
 I, stretched beneath the many-centuried shade 
 Of some writhed oak, the wood's Laocoon, 
 Did of my Hope a dryad mistress make. 
 Whom I would woo to meet me privily, 
 Or underneath the stars, or when the moon 
 Flecked all the forest floor with scattered 
 
 pearls. 
 days whose memory tames to fawning down 
 The surly fell of ocean's bristled neck!" 
 
 — James Russell Lowell. 
 
 The TIME had reached its fullness: the 
 Turk had conquered the sometime capital of 
 the western world, Constantinople, and shut off 
 the PLACE 'S trade with the East. That trade 
 was the Place's life-blood, drained by the wars 
 which rivalled in duration those of the Pelo- 
 ponesus in the East and of the Roses in the 
 West — of that time. 
 
 Genoa and Venice had grappled in many a 
 death-clutch — the two leading commercial cen- 
 ters of the Middle Ages, and once indeed had 
 Genoa well-nigh prostrated her rival. That 
 was at Chioggia, told about in song and story, 
 and Andrea Doria was the Genoese leader. 
 
 What boy in Genoa did not hear of that fa- 
 mous encounter, and who in all Genoa did not 
 and does not know the Doria? Why, even to 
 this day, we view their old Palace and all its 
 ancient treasures : 
 
 21 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 ''This house was Andrea Doria's. Here he 
 
 lived ; 
 And here at eve relaxing, when ashore, 
 Held many a pleasant, many a grave discourse 
 With them that sought him, walking to and fro 
 As on his deck. 'Tis less in length and breath 
 Than many a cabin in a ship of war ; 
 But 'tis of marble, and at once inspires 
 The reverence due to ancient dignity. 
 He left it for a better ; and 'tis now 
 A house of trade, the meanest merchandise 
 Cumbering its floors. Yet, fallen as it is, 
 'Tis still the noblest dwelling, even in Genoa ! 
 
 And hadst thou, Andrea, lived there to the last, 
 Thou hadst done well ; for there is that without, 
 That in the wall, which monarchs could not 
 
 give, 
 Nor thou take with thee — that which says 
 
 aloud, 
 It was thy country's gift to her deliverer." 
 
 — Samuel Rogers. 
 
 * ' Ah ! what avails it, Genoa, now to thee 
 That Doria, feared by monarchs, once was 
 thine? 
 Univied ruin ! In thy sad decline 
 From virtuous greatness, what avails that he 
 Whose prow descended first the Hesperian sea, 
 And gave our world her mate beyond the 
 brine, 
 
 22 
 
The Doria Palace. (Tenoa 
 
The Time, The Place and The Man. 
 
 Was nurtured, whilst an infant, at thy knee? — 
 All things must perish, — all but things divine. ' ' 
 
 — Aubrey de Vere. 
 
 We see in that old palace another Andrea 
 Doria painted by Titian and also by Sebastiano 
 Piambo, the Venetians; we see Charles V pre- 
 senting a dog to Andrea. We see the knocker 
 of the door sculptured by no less a personage 
 than Benvenuto Cellini, the Florentine. 
 
 Tintoretto painted the marriage in the fam- 
 ily which occurred in 941 — a retrospection. 
 
 In the old church of San Matteo also are pre- 
 served their family records from the tenth cen- 
 tury to the present time, and in Rome, in the 
 Corso, is their still more famous palace. 
 
 Andrea Doria did not conquer at Chioggia, 
 but in an encounter in earlier years, a prisoner 
 of war was brought from Venice to Genoa — 
 none other than the renowned Marco Polo, the 
 traveler in the dazzlingly splendid East. 
 
 What boy of Genoa has not heard recounted 
 the wonders of that voyage, written in the pris- 
 on of his city's walls? 
 
 And what boy of Genoa did not see, later in 
 the centuries, the ships of his native land ly- 
 ing rotting in their harbor, their masters idle, 
 and their trade shut off by the Turks after 
 their conquest of Constantinople? 
 
 That was in 1453. How old was the boy at 
 that time, who heard the Divine call to save his 
 
 23 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 country, to open that other door to the East, 
 closed since the creation of the world? 
 
 ''Signs have been set for me 
 As for the holy men of old. To seek 
 To find those far-ojff lands and that near way, 
 That western way, unto the Indian shore — 
 For this was I called sunward from the womb. ' ' 
 
 — John Vance Cheney. 
 
 Genoa, browbeaten by her great rival, ruined 
 by her foreign foe, unsung by the poets, un- 
 beautified by the masters of the arts, was the 
 one city that could produce the Man chosen 
 to surmount and surpass all that science and 
 human effort had heretofore accomplished. 
 
 Genoa is called ''La Superba" by her inhab- 
 itants. She is also called The City of Palaces, 
 but no Shakespeare has told of her Doges, no 
 poet has sung of her warriors, but high above 
 all poets and rulers is exalted the Man who 
 through stupendous effort accomplished the 
 fulfillment of his destiny. 
 
 ' ' For me, I have no choice ; 
 I might turn back to other destinies. 
 For one sincere key opes all Fortune's doors; 
 But whoso answers not God's earliest call 
 Forfeits or dulls that faculty supreme 
 Of lying open to his genius 
 Which makes the wise heart certain of its 
 
 ^^^^' — James Russell Lowell. 
 
 24 
 
The Time, The Place and The Man. 
 
 ' ' Not mine the race to change, 
 Or make new men who better should disclose 
 God's likeness; but to take the men I found 
 And mould them, rude, to servants of His word. 
 I, rude myself, a sailor, full of faults, 
 Yet bending still to Him my thoughts, my will, 
 My learning and my act, — what could I hope 
 More than to win them that they, too, should 
 
 bear 
 The sacred burden, and help carry Christ 
 Unto the far new land o'er seas unknown? 
 
 High w^as that mission, to me unworthy given. 
 But hardship trained my hands. Firm hope 
 
 made whole 
 My weakness ; lending to my spirit wings 
 Across the deep to fly. When hope grew frail, 
 Sad poverty came, and with her slow calm 
 
 smile 
 Gave me the kiss of peace, and made me strong. 
 So — dowered with patience, hope, faith, char- 
 ity— 
 A beggar at the gates of that New World 
 I stood, whose key I held, and I alone." 
 
 — George Parsons Lathrop. 
 
 Much has been written about Christopher 
 Columbus, and much has been unwritten, or 
 denied. 
 
 The Journal of his voyage which he kept for 
 the sovereigns, is no longer in existence, but 
 
 25 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 the great La Casas, the "friend of the Indi- 
 ans, ' ' was son of one who had made the voyage 
 with him, and he had recourse to all his papers, 
 and wrote his life, which is preserved. 
 
 Columbus's son Ferdinand also wrote his 
 biography, which later day ''wiseacres" con- 
 demn as untruthful. In fact, one of these late 
 "authorities" writes thus: 
 
 "Columbus never spoke one word of truth 
 on what related to himself personally; and his 
 family, on this point, have carefully followed 
 his example. Throughout his letters and writ- 
 ings he has sprinkled incorrect statements, 
 skillfully devised, with the object either of ob- 
 scuring certain portions of his life or of hiding 
 traces of his origin; and in fact, these state- 
 ments have resulted in the creation of a sort of 
 conventional history as to the formation of his 
 ideas and the causes which led to his discovery. 
 
 The principal disseminators of this history 
 were Las Casas and Ferdinand Columbus, and 
 criticism today is destroying fragment by frag- 
 ment this falsification. 
 
 Already the majority of the lies of which it is 
 composed have been subjected to the light of 
 truth, and by degrees we are beginning to form 
 a correct notion of that part of the life of the 
 crafty Genoese, he and his have been pleased 
 to present to us under such false colors." 
 
 — Henry Vignaud. 
 26 
 
The Time, The Place and The Man. 
 
 Should the case of Columbus's canonization 
 be called, that writer might be considered 
 a self-appointed ''Devil's Advocate," only in 
 that office abuse is not one of the duties— nor 
 prejudice ; only just cause for defeat. 
 
 So, in attempting to portray Columbus his- 
 torically, one may get into a hornet's nest, so 
 certain is each ''authority" of his own case and 
 of all others' errors. 
 
 We shall not catalogue the writers on Colum- 
 bus, nor specify the "authorities". 
 
 In the first place, there was a wrangle as to 
 which city could claim his birth ; even now, the 
 date of that event is disputed ; Henry Vignaud 
 wrote a complete volume, setting forth the 
 errors of all other "authorities" and settling 
 forever, to his own satisfaction, that the date of 
 Columbus's birth is the year 1451. 
 
 Next, there is a contradiction that he ever at- 
 tended the University of Pavia; that he ever 
 fought such and such sea-fights ; that he went to 
 the convent of La Rabida upon his first en- 
 trance to Spain, or upon his rejection after the 
 hearing of Salamanca; that he married Bea- 
 triz de Arana — oh my ! what an indignant howl 
 at the very idea of that ! Henry Harrisse, the 
 "great authority," cannot produce facts, but 
 he "thinks" that Columbus's first wife was 
 living when he met Beatriz ! xind there is dis- 
 pute even as to where his remains repose — for 
 may they rest in peace ! 
 
 27 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Let us be thankful that we are allowed to 
 believe that there was such a man as Columbus, 
 the discoverer, that the "authorities" do not, 
 as in the case of Shakespeare, as a writer, deny 
 his very existence. 
 
 Let us say that his ancestors had furnished 
 one Admiral, at least, in that city where sea- 
 faring was the chief occupation. 
 
 Let us say, also, that there is some plaus- 
 ibility in the tradition Columbus advanced that 
 the family had at one time been noble. 
 
 Noble in fact, we know it to have been, and 
 noble in title also it may have been, when title 
 was all that could lift one from the masses. 
 
 We have no word pictures of that family 
 gathered round the sturdy mother and honest 
 wool-comber — the four boys with their little 
 sister: Christopher, the dreamer, the genius; 
 Bartholomew, the sturdy, the reliable one; 
 Pelegrino, the delicate, who passed away early 
 in youth; Diego, the pious, who assumed Holy 
 Orders, and Biancinetta, the sister, who wedded 
 a tradesman and died ''unhonored and un- 
 sung. ' ' 
 
 Christopher was sent to the University of 
 Pavia — records in that building attesting that 
 fact, as well as a monument placed there to 
 commemorate it, and a pinch of the great man's 
 ashes is one of its priceless treasures. 
 
 Genoa honors her son whom she did not rec- 
 ognize in life. Her frescoed palaces show forth 
 
 28 
 
The Time, The Place and The Man. 
 
 his glory, the Municipal Palace in particular, 
 being rich in mementoes of him, having pre- 
 served in a golden urn a pinch of his ashes pre- 
 sented to the Municipality by the Archbishop of 
 Santo Domingo, when his body was brought to 
 light in 1877. Also in magnificent encasement 
 are his authentic letters and his Book of Privi- 
 leges, showing the grants made to him by the 
 Spanish sovereigns at the time of his first voy- 
 age. The bag in which they were preserved is 
 there, too. With them, in the Council Chamber, 
 are two large mosaics, one of Columbus and one 
 of that other famous traveler and prisoner of 
 the city, who was treated as a guest, Marco 
 Polo. Those were placed here in 1867. 
 
 A large fresco shows us Columbus at the 
 Court of Spain. 
 
 The Palazzo Rosso, the Red Palace, contains 
 an inspiring group wrought by the sculptor 
 Raggi, and erected by the Municipality in 1851. 
 Columbus is shown, chart in hand, leading forth 
 to the promised land. The base shows in relief 
 the three ships. In the cathedral is a plan, in 
 bronze, showing Genoa as it was in Columbus's 
 time. 
 
 The old bank of St. George is still standing, 
 a tablet commemorating the fact that he had 
 appointed it executor of his will. 
 
 A monument erected by the ^'Patria" ac- 
 knowledges him as her own, and she celebrated 
 with fitting ceremonies the four hundredth an- 
 
 29 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 niversary of his great voyage, there being fifty- 
 two warships in her harbor, sent to honor the 
 foremost Admiral of all ages, while the old bell, 
 cracked in ringing out tidings joyous to her, 
 was recast so as to peal forth the great event 
 renewed; and music lent her charms also, for 
 the story was sung in the form of Operas, com- 
 posed in 1828 by Morlachi, and later by Fran- 
 chetti; but so inspiring is his story, that more 
 than a dozen operas have it for their motif, 
 while Richard Wagner sets it forth in the form 
 of an overture. As to the dramatists, they of 
 practically all countries have recognized the in- 
 spiration of the theme and have produced it 
 successfully upon the stage; also poets with- 
 out number have sung the lofty theme. 
 
 *' Gently, as roses die, the day declines; 
 On the charmed air there is a hush the while ; 
 And delicate are the twilight tints that smile 
 Upon the summits of the Apennines. 
 The moon is up ; and o 'er the warm wave shines 
 A fairy bridge of light, whose beams beguile 
 The fancy to some secret summer isle 
 Where Love may dwell, which only Love di- 
 vines. 
 The blue light of Italian summer falls 
 Around us ; over the crystalline swell 
 I see the lamps lit in her tier of halls 
 And bid to Genoa the Superb farewell. 
 Home of Columbus ! Having dwelt in thee, 
 I dream of undiscovered lands at sea!" 
 
 30 — William Gibson. 
 
CHAPTER IL 
 
 PREPARATION : 
 
 PORTUGAL. 
 
 "At fourteen years my home 
 Was on the sea, — the sea, great Nature's pulse,, 
 The test and measure of her mighty heart. 
 And East and West and North and South I 
 
 rode. 
 In heat and cold, in peace and changeful war, 
 Till, met with many lands and many men, 
 Roman and Greek, Indian and greedy Moor, 
 From each I had each littlest thing might serve 
 My life's one purpose. Both tradition grave 
 And thousand noiser voices of the hour 
 I heeded ; reason heard, and fancy, who 
 Has wisdom also, all her golden own." 
 
 ^ohn Vance Cheney. 
 
 After some years of coast service, Christo- 
 pher arrived at Portugal, where his brother 
 Bartholomew was harbored before him. It was 
 the one haven for the Genoese still hearkening 
 to the lure of the sea — nay, more than that, 
 Portugal may be called the University of mari- 
 time explorations, presided over by the mon- 
 arch justly styled "The Navigator" — Prince 
 Henry. 
 
 31 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 At that University the question propounded 
 was: Can a new route to India be found 
 around the southern coast of Africa? The 
 question was paramount, likewise, to all civil- 
 ized Europe, for though Genoa's trade suffered 
 most directly through the fall of Constantino- 
 ple to the Turks, as her route had lain for cen- 
 turies through the Black and Caspian Seas, 
 past that city, — Venice also was harassed as 
 were the Hanseatic Cities. 
 
 Why was Portugal the leader in solving that 
 problem? As the Turks came into Europe 
 through Constantinople, Portugal had driven 
 them forth from her kingdom and had pursued 
 them far into Africa ; therefore Africa was not 
 unknown to her, and her bold captains had dis- 
 covered and were even now settling islands ly- 
 ing off that coast. 
 
 All knowledge which bore upon the subject of 
 a new route to India was renovated. The writ- 
 ings of the great thinkers upon that subject and 
 upon the spheroidity of the earth — Aristole, 
 Ptolemy and Roger Bacon, were thoroughly 
 sifted, and the history of the doers, Leif Eric- 
 son, Marco Polo, and Sir John Mandeville, 
 was read and discussed with avidity. 
 
 Ptolemy had maintained that a great contin- 
 ent lay to the south of Africa, and therefore 
 blocked the southern way to India. His geog- 
 raphy had been the standard text book for 
 twelve centuries, or until Columbus' voyage. 
 
 32 
 
Preparation. 
 
 A Spanish writer named Mela thought that 
 though a continent lay there, it was not con- 
 nected directly with either Asia or Africa. 
 
 These were the thinkers, and their theories 
 were finally to be tested. 
 
 Portugal 's seamen had reached as far as the 
 coast of Guinea, and now were to push farther- 
 In 1471 that was done. 
 
 But though they crossed the equator, and 
 sailed on and on, no passage could they find 
 past Africa, for it still fronted them in an un- 
 broken barrier. So they returned and re- 
 ported that Ptolemy as right, and that even 
 should a passage be found around the southern 
 coast, the way was long, so long that it was out 
 of the question to follow it. 
 
 So also, later, did the seamen sent out sur- 
 reptiously by King John to test Columbus's 
 theory of sailing westward, return and protest 
 that no land was to be found in that vast ex- 
 panse of sea. 
 
 But Columbus was the Man of the Hour. He 
 was the thinker, and knew of the subject all 
 that had been known before him; he had seen 
 and conversed with many other thinkers, and 
 he well might say, what Alfred Tennyson puts 
 into the mouth of that other great wanderer of 
 olden times, Ulysses: 
 
 **I am a part of all that I have met." 
 33 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 But Columbus was more than a thinker, he 
 was emphatically a doer. 
 
 What boots it, if he had sailed to Iceland or 
 not? Did not he know the story of the Norse- 
 men finding regions far to the north and west! 
 Did not he know all about far Cathay — the 
 China of Marco Polo — with the ocean to the 
 east? That ocean to the east of China, surely 
 was one and the same ocean as that to the west 
 of Europe ! Did not he know that the earth was 
 round as proved by Ptolemy, for could not he 
 see the shadow of the earth when cast upon 
 the moon in an eclipse to be round, and had not 
 he time and again seen the tops of the masts of 
 ships at sea before he saw the hulls, as the ves- 
 sels slowly rounded the curve of ocean's 
 breast? 
 
 Had not he pondered and dreamed the an- 
 swer to the question the King's official sent to 
 the foremost astronomer and geographer of 
 the age — the great Florentine, Toscanelli — 
 ''Can we reach land by sailing westward?" 
 That was in 1472. Columbus wrote that same 
 question to the Florentine and received the 
 same answer sent to the official Martins; and 
 he received besides, great encouragement in his 
 expressed desire to undertake the voyage to 
 prove it. Not only that, but the astronomer's 
 chart was forwarded to him. 
 
 But King John, as we know, proved false. 
 
 34 
 
Prepaeation. 
 
 Columbus, taking his orphan son, Diego, by 
 the hand, left Portugal. 
 
 What had that country done for him? Doubt- 
 less not a little. Besides enhancing his educa- 
 tional ideas he had met there and had loved 
 and wedded the daughter of a renowned Ital- 
 ian navigator, Perestrello. 
 
 He had lived many years there on the sea- 
 shore at Lisbon and also on the island of Porto 
 Santo, where the homes of his wife's family 
 may yet be seen. 
 
 35 
 
('oliliiiluis at the ('oii\eiil or l,;i Knl>i(l;i 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE AGONY OF SUSPENSE: 
 SPAIN. 
 
 HUELVA AND PALOS: 
 LA EABIDA. 
 
 ''In Rabida's monastic fane 
 
 I cannot ask, and ask in vain, — 
 
 The language of Castile I speak; 
 
 Mid many an Arab, many a Greek, 
 
 Old in the days of Charlemagne, 
 
 When minstrel music wandered round. 
 
 And science, waking, blessed the sound. 
 
 No earthly thought has here a place. 
 The cowl let down on every face; 
 Yet here, in consecrated dust, 
 Here would I sleep, if sleep I must. 
 
 From Genoa when Columbus came, 
 (At once her glory and her shame) 
 'Twas here he caught the holy flame ; 
 'Twas here the generous vow he made; 
 His banners on the altar laid. 
 
 Here, tempest-worn and desolate, 
 A Pilot, journeying thro the wild, 
 Stopt to solicit at the gate 
 A pittance for a child. 
 
 37 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 'Twas here, unknowing and unknown, 
 He stood upon the threshold-stone. 
 But hope was his — a faith sublime, 
 That triumphs over place and time; 
 And here, his mighty labor done 
 And his course of glory run. 
 Awhile as more than man he stood, 
 So large the debt of gratitude!" 
 
 — Samuel Rogers. 
 
 La Rabida, an old fortress of the Moors on 
 the border-line of their possession — the word 
 in their language meaning frontier — and later 
 a Franciscan monastery dedicated to the 
 Blessed Virgin and renamed St. Mary of La 
 Rabida, is on a promontory a short distance 
 out of the port of Palos in the town of Huelva, 
 and is now conserved by the Spanish govern- 
 ment as one of its most famous monuments, 
 and its prior, Juan Perez de Marchena, shall 
 ever be associated with the memory of Col- 
 umbus. 
 
 The building was reproduced in Chicago at 
 the World's Columbian Exposition and it was 
 there rich in relics and mementoes of the great 
 man. The souvenir of that display was pre- 
 pared by the late William E. Curtis, and it is 
 a condensed history of the explorer's life. 
 
 The replicas of the three caravels — now 
 lacking one — which left Palos under the aus- 
 
 38 
 
The Agony op Suspense. 
 
 pices of Juan Perez are still moored in the 
 lagoon at Jackson Park, but a more lasting 
 tribute to Columbus was erected in the city, 
 the Columbus Memorial Building, rich in 
 Venetian mosaic showing scenes from his 
 momentous history. 
 
 The relics from La Eabida in Jackson Park 
 have been removed, but the building itself re- 
 mains, used as a free Sanitarium for sick 
 babies — a fitting charity commemorative of 
 that great charity which prompted the noble 
 Prior of the real monastery to open his heart 
 and soul and intellect to the weary and heart- 
 sick pilgrim with his child, whom heaven had 
 guided to his gate. 
 
 ''And now, a way-worn traveller, where, 
 
 Eabida, 
 Thy lonely convent overlooks the sea, 
 (Soon to be furrowed by ten thousand keels), 
 He waits, preferring no immodest suit — 
 A little bread and water for his boy, 
 O'ertasked with travel! then the welcome in, 
 And the good friar — saints receive his soul!" 
 
 — Henry Howard Brownell. 
 
 Fra Juan Perez Marchena did not entertain 
 an angel unawares, no, it was given to him to 
 pierce through the human veil and to meet him 
 soul to soul. 
 
 39 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 ''Juan Perez' faith 
 
 Who heard him and conceived his words no 
 
 wraith 
 Of fevered fancy, but the very truth, was 
 
 light 
 To bring the Queen to know his purposes 
 
 — Louis James Block. 
 
 *'He took them in, he gave them food; 
 The traveller's dreams he heard; 
 And fast the midnight moments flew. 
 And fast the good man's wonder grew, 
 And all his heart was stirred. 
 
 The child the while, with soft, sweet smile, 
 
 Forgetful of all sorrow. 
 
 Lay soundly sleeping in his bed — 
 
 The good man kissed him then, and said, 
 
 'You leave us not tomorrow! 
 
 I pray you rest the convent's guest; 
 The child shall be our own — 
 A precious care, while you prepare 
 Your business with the court, and bear 
 Your message to the throne.' 
 
 And so the guest he comforted. 
 
 wise, good prior! to you. 
 
 Who cheered the stranger's darkest days 
 
 And helped him on his way, what praise 
 
 And gratitude are due!" 
 
 — John T. Trowbridge. 
 
 40 
 
The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 Very fitting it is that a cross should now 
 mark the spot of that meeting at the convent 
 gate and fitting also that the Monastery should 
 contain memorials of that momentous event — 
 which were so lacking on the occasion of the 
 pilgrimage there by Washington Irving after 
 the writing of his great biography. 
 
 Some one has said that next to being a great 
 poet is the power of understanding one. We 
 say, that next to being a great personage in 
 whatever rank of life, is the power of appre- 
 ciating one, and next to Christopher Columbus 
 in the discovery of America — even before Isa- 
 bella, Queen of Castile and Leon — for what 
 had he to gain?— will ever stand the humble 
 friar whose encouragement and influence and 
 moral suasion and prayers made possible what 
 even the stupendous determination and perse- 
 verance of Columbus himself could not accom- 
 plish. 
 
 ''An ancient convent, too, there seems 
 
 That stands on rising ground. 
 Which o'er a sea-lashed coast uprears — 
 
 Pine trees are waving round. 
 
 In such, begirt with map and chart, 
 
 That navigator bold, 
 With Friar Juan Perez, once, 
 
 Did many a conference hold. 
 
 41 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 In such he sat, in musing mood, 
 
 When thoughts his brain would rack — 
 
 As o'er a visioned ocean waste, 
 A phantom ship he'd track, 
 
 In fancy, to a distant clime, 
 Of fair and shadowy bowers. 
 
 Where birds of gorgeous colored plumes 
 Winged over radiant flowers; 
 
 Where animals of fancy foot. 
 
 More fleet than eye had seen. 
 Were roving — to his dreamy thought — 
 
 Amid savannah's green; 
 
 And where, through shade of spicy trees. 
 
 The gentle natives there. 
 With diamond eyes and glittering smiles, 
 
 And dark, luxuriant hair, 
 
 Were culling fruits of luscious taste, 
 
 Or silvered barks they plied 
 Adown the shining azure streams. 
 
 Whose waters — pearls should hide. 
 
 Oh, many a vision such, was his 
 
 Ere he a sail unfurled — 
 Ere monarch's might would grant him aid 
 
 To find our blessed world! 
 
 42 
 
The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 And once — from forth such convent's gates 
 
 That noble seaman rode 
 And with his tlioughts so high — alone — 
 
 He sought a king's abode. 
 
 'Twas military bustle all, 
 
 As Colon lighted down — 
 Alone — unknowing and unknown — 
 
 In Cordova's old town." 
 
 — Emily Shaw Forman. 
 
 43 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 CORDOVA. 
 
 Keeping Ms son at La Rabida — and inci- 
 dentally we may remark that those who en- 
 joy their history clothed in the romantic set- 
 ting of fiction, might read ''The Son of Colum- 
 bus," by Mollie Elliot Sewell, as she treats 
 of the periods during which he was an inmate 
 of the convent and page at the Court of Isa- 
 bella — Fra Juan Perez sent Columbus forth 
 armed with a letter which he felt certain would 
 obtain an audience with the sovereigns. No, the 
 letter did not obtain an audience with the sov- 
 ereigns, nor even one with the personage to 
 whom it was addressed, Fernando de Talavera, 
 his successor as confessor of Isabella. 
 
 Talavera was a high personage at court, and 
 it was all very well for his simple, visionary, 
 humble friend to be taken in by a strolling ad- 
 venturer, but he — archbishop was he? — had 
 more prudence. He did not ignore the letter 
 entirely, but he practiced courtly manners, 
 utilized his anti-room, in which humble sup- 
 pliants bided his good pleasure. 
 
 Day by day the high hopes of Columbus 
 sank, and day by day dwindled the small store 
 of funds with which the good friar had pro- 
 vided him. Fernando de Talavera did not ob- 
 tain for him an audience with Isabella, nor did 
 
 44 
 
The Agony of Suspense, 
 
 any friend come forth to assist him. In des- 
 peration he himself penned a letter to the sov- 
 ereigns, setting- forth his pleas, but as is the 
 fate of all such letters, it was unnoticed and 
 unanswered. 
 
 He was poor, he was shabby, he was treated 
 with contempt, if not with distrust ; he had the 
 responsibility of his young son, unfit to endure 
 the hardships of that venturesome voyage, 
 should he succeed in undertaking it, and now 
 appeared one moved with pity and also with 
 love, but one, alas, who has become in these 
 late years the unconscious and innocent occa- 
 sion of the crowning infamy heaped upon his 
 head — Beatriz Enriquez de Arana, his second 
 wife and the mother of his son Ferdinand 
 whom most writers stigmatize as illegitimate. 
 
 In Cordova we see the house which was oc- 
 cupied by the family of Beatriz, now used as 
 a hotel of secondary rank. 
 
 It is opposite the old Moorish mosque which, 
 next to the Alhambra, ranks as a type of archi- 
 tecture so intricate and beautiful and called 
 for them, and the gate through which Columbus 
 entered the town is now called by his name. 
 
 Beatriz Enriquez de Arana was a young 
 lady of noble birth, guarded and honored as 
 are all ladies of her rank. 
 
 Those familiar with the rigid etiquette of 
 the southern countries, and of Spain in par- 
 ticular, where the people's most striking char- 
 
 45 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 acteristic after personal loyalty to the king 
 and devotion to the church, was "the point of 
 honor," may well marvel how a stranger with 
 impunity could harm so mortally one of her 
 station. Could Spanish pride brook such dis- 
 honor to their house? 
 
 Her brothers were his friends. Later the 
 son of one of them, and on another voyage the 
 father himself, sailed with Columbus across 
 the sea. 
 
 What man could see his sister thus degraded 
 and still smile and call the villain friend? 
 
 ''But," maintains a historian, *' there is no 
 record of the marriage." Because no record 
 of the marriage has been found, therefore, 
 there is no marriage ! 
 
 "And," writes another, "there is no record 
 of the christening of the son." 
 
 We are tempted to exclaim, "Ye gods and 
 little fishes!" 
 
 Can anyone who has read Columbus ' epistles 
 and the messages he sent to the sovereigns of 
 Spain, in which he implores them to have a 
 care for the souls of the savages, to send mis- 
 sionaries to convert them; who considers him- 
 self to have been called especially by Provi- 
 dence to open up the way to that unknown 
 land for the light of the gospel; who deems 
 himself literally to be Christopher, ''Christ- 
 hearer" — carrying Him across the waters as 
 did his protonym of old — 
 
 46 
 
The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 Could anyone sanely imagine that one not 
 acknowledged and professedly a deep-dyed 
 hyprocrite, could thus neglect the baptism of 
 his own son? 
 
 ''Well," writes another, ^'if Beatriz were 
 his wife, strange he did not place her on his 
 vice-regal throne in the New World!" 
 
 Heaven save the mark! Where was that 
 throne? Was it there, on the island of Hayti, 
 in the fort he built with the wreckage of his 
 vessel, and in which he left a handful of his 
 men to maintain it? The men, alas, of whom 
 he found no remains on his return but a few 
 scattered bones! 
 
 Was it there, on the islands after his second 
 voyage, where his life and that of his crew 
 were in danger from the savages, and where 
 he lay sick unto death? 
 
 Was it the one from which Bobadilla plucked 
 him and loaded him with chains, and sent him 
 back to Spain in ignominy? 
 
 Was it the pestilential swamp upon which 
 he was imprisoned by the loss of his old, rick- 
 ety, worm-eaten vessel, given him by his sover- 
 eigns to get rid of him— his fourth voyage? 
 
 Perhaps his vice-regal throne was the inn in 
 Vallalodid in which he bided almost as a beg- 
 gar, while the fruits of his labor were withheld 
 from him, and the ingratitude and injustice of 
 the sovereigns well-nigh crushed his soul. 
 
 47 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Count Roselly de Lorgues undertook to trace 
 the origin of the scandal and found that one 
 hundred years after the death of Columbus, a 
 librarian, noticing the codicil of his will in 
 which he exhorts his son Diego to pay to 
 Beatriz Enriquez certain sums, for his con- 
 science troubled him in regard to her, immedi- 
 ately took pen and wrote down the stigma of 
 illegitimacy against her son. 
 
 Was not that librarian cognizant of the cus- 
 tom in Spain at that date and at a later date — 
 of husbands referring to their wives by their 
 maiden names? 
 
 Note this quotation from one of Spain's 
 greatest writers, Cervantes, in ''Don Quix- 
 ote:" 
 
 "Why, should this come to pass," quoth 
 Sancho Panza, "and I be made king by some 
 such miracle as your worship says, then Joan 
 Guthierez (my mis 'ess) would be at least a 
 queen and my children infantas." 
 
 So vigorously and ably did the count vindi- 
 cate Columbus' memory that the Holy Father 
 commended his work, and as if the blot thus 
 wiped out had been the only obstacle to the 
 highest honor mortal flesh is heir to, petitions 
 were immediately prepared and they were 
 signed by the Fathers of the Vatican Council 
 that the cause of his canonization be intro- 
 duced. 
 
 That is not yet done. 
 
 48 
 
The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 In a work upon Columbus, written later 
 than that by Count Roselly de Lorgues, the 
 Rev. R. A. G. Knight treats the subject of 
 Beatriz Enriquez ably and scholarly, and 
 makes mention that documents throwing fur- 
 ther light on the marriage were discovered : one 
 by Rev. Raymond Buldio at Valencia, and an- 
 other by Rev. Marcellino de Civezza in the li- 
 brary of the Royal Academy of History at 
 Madrid. He also mentions an article in 
 L'Univers, of January 11, 1877. 
 
 Should the Holy See think fit to have the 
 subject of Columbus' canonization introduced 
 one would think that sufficient documents 
 might be found in the Vatican library, as Rome 
 took a most vital interest in the New World 
 and all that pertain thereto, the line of de- 
 markation having been adjusted by Alexan- 
 der VI. 
 
 As the historians, almost without exception, 
 have jumped at conclusions in regard to the 
 matter which troubled Columbus' conscience in 
 regard to Beatriz Enriquez, we feel justified 
 in giving our version also, and that is, that 
 Columbus was troubled, not because he did not 
 marry Beatriz — for what hindered his doing 
 so 1 — but that he did marry her. 
 
 His temperament was so intensely spiritual 
 and his mission was so lofty, that the Divine 
 injunction to ''leave all and follow Me" was 
 not beyond his ability to obey. 
 
 49 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 It may be, that as the Disciples of the Mas- 
 ter left their wives to follow Him, Columbus 
 and Beatriz parted by mutual consent and for 
 the better fulfillment of his mission. 
 
 "Columbus and Beatriz" is the title of a 
 novel by Constance Goddard Du Bois, in which 
 the author tenderly and graphically portrays 
 the love story of the two characters. She takes 
 as her 7notif the relationship as upheld by 
 Count Roselly de Lorgues, and the severing of 
 the marriage tie by Columbus' vow, taken in 
 time of stress and storm. 
 
 However, to return to Columbus' mission — 
 when in Cordova the Grand Chancellor of Cas- 
 tile, Mendoza, finally procured for Columbus 
 a hearing by the sovereigns. 
 
 We may imagine his plea to Ferdinand : 
 
 "Hlustrious monarch of Iberian's soil. 
 Too long I wait permission to depart; 
 
 Sick of delays, I beg thy listening ear — 
 Shine forth the patron and the prince of art. 
 
 While yet Columbus breathes the vital air. 
 Grant his request to pass the western main ; 
 
 Reserve this glory for thy native soil. 
 
 And, what must please thee more, for thy 
 own reign. 
 
 Of this huge globe, how small a part we know ; 
 Does heaven their worlds to western suns 
 deny? 
 
 50 
 
The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 How disproportioned to the mighty deep 
 The lands that yet to human prospect lie! 
 
 Does Cynthia, when to western skies arrived, 
 Spend her moist beam upon the barren main. 
 
 And ne'er illume with midnight splendor, she, 
 The natives dancing on the lightsome plain? 
 
 Should the vast circuit of the world contain 
 Such wastes of ocean and such scanty land? 
 
 'Tis reason's voice that bids me think not so; 
 I think more nobly of the Almighty Hand. 
 
 Does yon fair lamp trace half the circle 
 
 round 
 To light mere waves and monsters of the 
 
 sea? 
 No; be there must, beyond the billowy waste, 
 Islands, and men, and animals, and trees. 
 
 An unremitting flame my breast inspires 
 To seek new lands amid the barren waves, 
 
 Where, falling low, the source of day descends, 
 And the blue sea his evening visage laves. 
 
 Hear, in his tragic lay, Cordova's sage: 
 'The time may come when numerous years 
 are past, 
 When ocean will unloose the hands of things, 
 
 And an unbounded region rise at last; 
 And Typhis may disclose the mighty land, 
 Far, far away, where none have roamed he- 
 fore, 
 
 51 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Nor will the world's remotest region he 
 Gibraltar's rock, or Thule's savage shore.' 
 
 Fired at the theme, I languish to depart; 
 
 Supply the bark and bid Columbus sail; 
 He fears no storm upon the untraveled deep; 
 
 Reason shall steer, and Skill disarm the 
 gale. 
 
 Nor does he dread to miss the intended course, 
 Though far from land the reeling galley 
 stray, 
 
 And skies above, and gulfy seas below. 
 Be the sole objects seen for many a day. 
 
 Think not that Nature has unveiled in vain 
 The mystic magnet to the mortal eye; 
 
 So late have we the guiding needle planned, 
 Only to sail beneath our native sky? 
 
 Ere this was known, the Ruling Power of all 
 Formed for our use an ocean in the land. 
 
 Its breadth so small we could not wander long. 
 Nor long be absent from the neighboring 
 strand. 
 
 Short was the course, and guided by the stars, 
 But stars no more must point our daring 
 way; 
 The Bear shall sink, and every guard be 
 drowned, 
 And Great Arcturus scarce escape the day, 
 
 52 
 
The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 When southward we shall steer— grant my 
 wish, 
 Supply the bark, and bid Columbus sail; 
 He dreads not tempest on the untraveled deep ; 
 Reason shall steer, and Skill disarm the 
 gale." 
 
 — Philip Freneau. 
 
 That same plea is expressed by Emily Shaw 
 Forman : 
 
 ''As o'er his face of thought sublime, 
 
 A glorious smile there broke, 
 Before Hispania's king and queen, 
 
 He bowed and thus he spoke: 
 
 'Oh, puissant King! illustrious Queen, 
 
 I pray you list to me — 
 For I have thought to make your power 
 
 The greatest that may be. 
 
 O'er seas unknown, of realms I've mused 
 
 That teem with wealth untold- 
 There natives ply their silver barks 
 
 On streams that pearls must hold. 
 
 I think, as Afraganus tells. 
 
 The world is small and round, 
 And when I've crossed the western deep. 
 
 Know India will be found. 
 
 There's but Cipango lies between. 
 Which Marco Polo told 
 
 53 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Would prove to be a shining land, 
 Bestrewed with burnished gold. 
 
 Then grant me many a winged ship 
 That I those realms may seek — 
 
 And offerings rich, from stranger clime, 
 My grateful heart shall speak. 
 
 Then brilliant gems from plenteous mines 
 
 Of every hue that be, 
 I'll delve to weave a diadem, 
 
 Oh, gentle queen, for thee. 
 
 I've dreamed that land held heretics — 
 
 Those beings at thy feet 
 I see them kneel — they bless the hour 
 
 When westward sailed our fleet. 
 
 Then give me but the astrolabe, 
 
 A few picked seamen true. 
 And I will cross the trackless deep 
 
 To find a realm for you ; 
 
 Where ne'er a ship has sailed before, 
 
 I'll breast the ocean wave. 
 Nor heed the howling billows' roar. 
 
 Nor fear a watery grave. 
 
 No, no! such visions blest I'll have 
 
 At night, upon the deep — 
 'Twill seem that forms from Paradise 
 
 Are visiting my sleep — 
 
 54 
 
The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 To paint, ere barks have touched that shore, 
 
 Its blue-robed mountains high, 
 Full dawning on our glorious sight. 
 
 That we may know it nigh. 
 
 Oh, when we touch that blessed strand, 
 
 And rests each weary keel, 
 To Him who dwells above the skies. 
 
 In reverence will we kneel. 
 
 Then rising, as we anthems sing. 
 
 My arms in air I'll toss, 
 And high the glorious banner wave. 
 
 That bears the blessed cross. 
 
 We'll plant it on some lofty cone, 
 
 Before it kneel again. 
 And kiss the earth, so stoutly sought. 
 
 For King and Queen of Spain.' 
 
 His ample front, his kindling eye, 
 
 His brightly flushing cheek. 
 His earnest, deep, unfaltering tones. 
 
 Such purpose high did speak — 
 
 That heavenly Isabel 
 
 To glowing thoughts awoke. 
 As dreams all blest rapt her soul. 
 
 In ecstacy she spoke: 
 
 ' Thou gracious King, this seaman list ; 
 
 Sweet visions dawn on me; 
 They image gilded palaces. 
 
 Beyond a crystal sea.' " 
 
 55 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 But no, Ferdinand, the unfaithful, counselled 
 delay. He was conservative, distrustful, self- 
 centered ; he would consider ; one must not dis- 
 turb one's equanimity by untoward events — 
 wait. 
 
 "Let us lay the matter before the wise coun- 
 sellors of the realm." 
 
 That gathering at Salamanca seems to pre- 
 sent an analogy to an earlier gathering of wise 
 churchmen, set in judgment upon the high en- 
 terprise of another visionary, Joan of Ark. In 
 fact, one cannot but compare the two beings 
 called upon to perform high and lofty deeds, 
 and who received mistrust and finally crushing 
 injustice in payment. 
 
 Joan has been vindicated, and let us hope 
 that the time is not far distant when Columbus ' 
 memory will be cleared of all the imputations 
 flung upon it. 
 
 "King Ferdinand, he coldly spoke: 
 
 'I will that there shall be. 
 At Salamanca, council held. 
 
 This sailor's scheme to see.' " 
 
 — Emily Shaw For man. 
 
 56 
 
The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 SALAMANCA. 
 
 **And now (the audience gained), at Sala- 
 manca, 
 Before them all, a simple mariner, 
 He stands, unawed by the solemnity 
 Of gowns and caps — with courteous, grave de- 
 meanor. 
 And in plain words, unfolding his high pur- 
 pose." 
 
 — Henry Howard Brownell. 
 
 ''Were you at Salamanca? ISTo. 
 We fronted there the learning of all Spain, 
 All their cosmogonies, their astronomies; 
 Guess-work they guessed it, but the golden 
 
 quess 
 Is morning star to the full round of truth. 
 
 No guess-work! I was certain of my goal; 
 Some thought it heresy ; that would not hold. 
 King David called the heavens a hide, a tent 
 Spread over earth, and so this earth was flat; 
 Some cited old Lactantius: could it be that 
 Trees grew downward, rain fell upward, men 
 Walked like a fly on ceilings? and besides 
 The great Augustine wrote that none could 
 breathe 
 
 57 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Within the zone of heat; so might there be 
 Two Adams, two mankinds, and that was clean 
 Against God's word: thus was I beaten back, 
 And chiefly, to my sorrow, by the Church, 
 
 And thought to turn my face from Spain, 
 appeal 
 Once more to France or England; but our 
 
 Queen 
 Recalled me, for at last their Highnesses 
 Were half assured this earth might be a sphere. 
 
 All glory to the all-blessed Trinity, 
 
 •All glory to the mother of our Lord, 
 
 And Holy Church, from whom I never swerved 
 
 Not even by one hair's breadth of heresy; 
 
 I have accomplished what I came to do." 
 
 — Alfred Tennyson, 
 
 Talavera was appointed to supervise the 
 meeting which was held in St. Stephen's Hall, 
 the monks entertaining Columbus and stand- 
 ing forth as his supporters. 
 
 ''St. Stephen's cloistered hall was proud 
 
 In learning's pomp that day. 
 
 For there a robed and stately crowd 
 
 Pressed on in long array. 
 
 A mariner with simple chart 
 
 Confronts that conclave high. 
 
 While strong ambition stirs his heart, 
 
 And burning thoughts of wonder start 
 
 From lip and sparkling eye. 
 
 58 
 
The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 What liatli he said! With frowning face, 
 
 In whispered tones they speak, 
 
 And lines upon their tablets trace. 
 
 Which flush each ashen cheek ; 
 
 The Inquisition's mystic doom 
 
 Sits on tlieir brows severe, 
 
 And bursting- forth in visioned gloom, 
 
 Sad heresy from burning tomb 
 
 Groans on the startled ear. 
 
 Courage, thou Genoese! Old Time 
 
 Thy splendid dream shall crown; 
 
 Yon Western Hemisphere sublime, 
 
 Where unshorn forests frown. 
 
 The awful Andes' cloud-wrapt brow, 
 
 The Indian hunter's bow. 
 
 Bold streams untamed by helm or prow, 
 
 And rocks of gold and diamonds, thou 
 
 To thankless Spain shalt show. 
 
 Courage, World-finder! Thou hast need! 
 In Fate's unfolding scroll, 
 Dark woes and ingrate wrongs I read, 
 That rack the noble soul. 
 On! On! Creation's secrets probe. 
 Then drink thy cup of scorn. 
 And wrapped in fallen Caesar's robe, 
 Sleep like that master of the globe 
 All glorious, — yet forlorn." 
 
 — Lydia Huntley Sigourney. 
 
 59 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 ''Of Salamanca's sages, some, 
 They scoffed a rounded world, 
 Nor deemed for Colon there should be 
 A single sail unfurled. 
 
 'This madman tells us there are men 
 Whose heads in air hang down'; 
 Said one old councilor-sage — 
 'The thought, it makes me frown! 
 Of such a topsy-turvy world. 
 
 Sure it can never be. 
 That all the branches downward grow, 
 
 Of any single tree!' " 
 
 — Emily Shaw Forman. 
 
 The force of that crushing blow to Colum- 
 bus' hopes was mitigated by the friendly aid 
 of that other of his friends and one he ac- 
 knowledges in his Will beside Father Perez, 
 Isabella, and Archangel — Father Diego de 
 Deza, the Prior of the Convent of San Esta- 
 ban, still standing, professor of theology in 
 the University of Salamanca, and tutor to the 
 heir-apparent, Prince Juan. 
 
 In the University of Notre Dame, at South 
 Bend, Indiana, is an original portrait of that 
 Dominican prior, and the highest honor re- 
 corded in marble upon his tomb in the Cathedral 
 at Seville is the fact that he was a friend and 
 patron of Christopher Columbus. 
 
 60 
 
The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 He liad entertained the navigator at a farm 
 belonging to Ms order near the town of Sala- 
 manca, where the owner during the great cele- 
 bration of 1892 erected a monument — a stone 
 pyramid — upon which was placed a globe. 
 
 ^^But Ferdinand and Isabel, 
 
 For all those sages learned, 
 Said, when they scourged the infidel. 
 
 His suit should not be spurned. 
 
 The warrior king the Moors assailed, 
 And fields were lost and won — 
 Still, still, Columbus urged his suit ; 
 Long years had come and gone. 
 
 From Seville, proud, impatiently, 
 
 Then rose that mariner. 
 And sought again La Rabida's dome 
 
 And would again confer 
 
 With Friar Juan Perez, good. 
 
 Then spake that friend so true, 
 (Whoever clung to him in need, 
 
 Whatever might ensue) : 
 
 *My mule, sure-footed, will I mount — 
 
 I'll haste to Santa Fe — 
 And there will urge our gracious queen, 
 
 As earnest as may be.' 
 
 The friar's mule was saddled soon. 
 And soon to Santa Fe, 
 
 61 
 
Cheistopher Columbus. 
 
 He hasted — his discerning mind, 
 How well could it foresee! 
 
 Queen Isabella's bosom fired, 
 
 As forcibly lie spoke — 
 She listed well his earnest word, 
 
 And thus her silence broke: 
 
 *0h! Father Juan Perez, good. 
 
 My thanks are due to thee. 
 For back recalling Colon bold. 
 
 For us to cross the sea. 
 
 Then bear thy friend this golden store. 
 
 And prithee from me say. 
 That I enjoin, to Santa Fe 
 
 He hie, without delay.' 
 
 Columbus, whom these tidings cheered, 
 
 Made haste to Santa Fe, 
 And there a splendid mournful sight. 
 
 His hap it was to see." 
 
 — Emily Shaw Forman. 
 
 The infidel Moors had invaded Spain in 711, 
 and had overrun the whole country, practi- 
 cally, except the Asturias, and had passed into 
 France and had bid fair to extend their sway 
 throughout all Europe; but Charles Martel, 
 ''the Hammer," stopped their inroad at Tours, 
 732, and thus saved the land to Christianity. 
 
 It was only upon the union of the two king- 
 doms of Aragon and Castile, by the marriage 
 
 62 
 
The Agony of Suspense, 
 
 of their sovereigns, 1469, that Spain slowly 
 but surely forced them from that territory. 
 
 For several years the subjugations continued, 
 and now before the Moorish capital and strong- 
 hold, Granada, the flower of Spain awaited 
 their final victory. 
 
 Here again, the novelist finds an enchanting 
 setting for his characters, and James Fenimore 
 Cooper in his "Mercedes of Castile," brings 
 that scene as well as the circumstances con- 
 nected with that never-to-be-repeated first voy- 
 age vividly before us; and Washington Irving 
 in style no less interesting revives it in his 
 "Conquest of Granada." 
 
 Santa Fe, "Holy Faith," was the name given 
 by Ferdinand and Isabella to the besieging en- 
 campment. It was so substantially built — as 
 the first temporary buildings had been con- 
 sumed by an accidental conflagration — that it 
 was practically a town. 
 
 It was here that Isabella received the mes- 
 senger dispatched by Juan Perez with a letter 
 addressed directly to herself — for he recognized 
 the fact that what one wants well done must 
 be done one's self — and she sent back a mes- 
 sage summoning the friar to an audience. 
 
 So successful was his suit that she granted 
 personal hearing to Columbus after the sur- 
 render. 
 
 63 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 GRANADA. 
 
 ''THE LAST SIGH OF THE MOOR." 
 
 "When from Granada's marble halls, 
 Mosaic courts and fountain falls 
 The Spaniard drove the Moor, again 
 To measure back the Midland Main, 
 In memory of the severed yoke 
 Navarre her 'Order of the Oak' 
 Raised for her knightly sons." — Wiffen. 
 
 ' ' There was weeping in Granada on that event- 
 ful, day — 
 One king in triumph entered in, one vanquished 
 
 rode away; 
 Down from Alhambra's minarets was every 
 
 crescent flung, 
 And the cry of ' Santiago ! ' through the jewelled 
 palace rung. 
 And singing, singing, singing. 
 Were the nightingales of Spain. 
 But the Moorish monarch lonely. 
 The cadences heard only. 
 'They sadly sing,' said he, 
 'They sadly sing to me.' 
 And through the groves melodious 
 He rode toward the sea. 
 
 There was joy in old Granada, on that event- 
 ful day, 
 
 64 
 
The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 One king in triumph entered in, one slowly rode 
 
 away. 
 Up the Alcala singing march the gay cavaliers — 
 Gained was the Moslem empire of twice three 
 hundred years. 
 
 And singing, singing, singing. 
 
 Were the nightingales of Spain, 
 
 But the Moorish monarch, lonely, 
 
 The cadences heard only. 
 
 'They sadly sing,' said he, 
 
 'They sadly sing to me — 
 
 All the birds of Andalusia !' 
 
 And he rode toward the sea. 
 
 The Verga heaped with flowers below the city 
 
 lay, 
 And faded in the sunset, as he slowly rode 
 
 away, 
 And he paused again a moment amid the 
 
 cavaliers, 
 And saw the golden palace shine through the 
 midst of tears. 
 And singing, singing, singing, 
 Were the nightingales of Spain, 
 But the Moorish monarch, lonely, 
 The cadences heard only. 
 'They sadly sing,' said he, 
 'They sadly sing to me; 
 Farewell, Andalusia!' 
 And he rode toward the sea." 
 
 — Eezehiah Butterworth. 
 65 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 We should love to linger here at Granada, 
 fascinating in so many ways. Its fortress, the 
 Alhambra, "the red palace," being unsurpassed 
 as a specimen of Moorish architecture, with its 
 domes and minarets and slender columns and 
 intricate diaper-work, so light and airy as if 
 wrought by fairy fingers, and withal, so very 
 significant, for what might appear to be only 
 elaborate ornamentation is in reality an expres- 
 sion of Moslem faith — for practically the whole 
 Koran is illustrated in the work. 
 
 The cathedral, begun in 1529, contains, in the 
 Royal Chapel, the statues and monuments of 
 their Catholic Majesties, and also the tombs of 
 their mad daughter, Juana, and her husband, 
 the bases of which show in relief, the surrender 
 of Boabdil, the "last of the Moors." 
 
 The crypt contains the bodies of the sov- 
 ereigns. The sacristy treasures many souvenirs 
 of them, the vestments worked by Isabella and 
 worn by the cardinal celebrant of the first Mass 
 offered up in the Alhambra, after its conquest ; 
 also the crown and scepter of Isabella and the 
 sword of Ferdinand. 
 
 He died in Granada, 1516, in the first convent 
 built there. Both he and Isabella, who passed 
 away in 1504, had requested that wherever they 
 might die, their remains should be brought to 
 Granada, for they always considered its con- 
 ([uest to be the "brightest jewel in their crown" 
 — the merits of which occasioned the conferring 
 
 66 
 
Tombs of Fcrdinaiul nnd IsalnMla. nt (Jrimnda 
 
The Agony op Suspense. 
 
 upou them of that title, "Their Catholic Majes- 
 ties" by His Holiness. 
 
 But what about Columbus and his discovery 
 of America ? Alas, what ! 
 
 We view his statue in the Alhambra, in the 
 room where his "Privileges" were granted to 
 him finally— the "Privileges" being the con- 
 tract signed and agreed upon by his sovereigns 
 —but broken by them, alas ! again. 
 
 ''It was fourteen hundred and ninety-two, 
 The close of the New Year's day. 
 
 When the armies of Catholic Ferdinand, 
 
 The flower of all the Spanish land. 
 At the Siege of Granada lay. 
 
 Ten thousand foot and ten thousand horse, 
 
 And ten thousand men with bows. 
 Were on the left, and as many more 
 Had stormed close up to the city's door. 
 Where the Darro River flows. 
 
 And the king held levee, for on that day 
 
 Great news had come to court- 
 How on the morrow the town would yield, 
 And the flag of Spain with the yellow field 
 Would float from the Moorish fort. 
 
 There were princely nobles and high grandees 
 
 That night in the royal tent ; 
 And the beautiful queen with the golden hair. 
 And shining armor and sword, was there— 
 
 On the king's right arm she leant. 
 67 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 It was nine, and the old Alhambra bells 
 
 Tolled out on the moonlit air; 
 And over the battlements far there came 
 The murmuring sound of Allah's name, 
 
 And the Moorish troops at prayer. 
 
 'Hark!' said the king, as he heard the sound; 
 
 *Hark, hark to yon bell's refrain! — 
 Five hundred years it has called the Moor, 
 This night and 'twill call him nevermore; 
 
 Tomorrow 'twill ring for Spain ! ' 
 
 Then spake a guest at the king's right hand, 
 
 * Tomorrow the end will be ; 
 Hast thou not said when the war is done, 
 And the Christ's flag floats o'er the Moslem one, 
 
 Thou wouldst keep thy promise to met 
 
 Thou wouldst give me ships and give me men 
 
 Who would dare to follow me? 
 Help thou this night with thy royal hand, 
 And I'll make thee king of a new-found land, 
 
 And king of a new-found sea. 
 
 For the world is round, and a ship may sail 
 
 Straight on with the setting sun. 
 Beyond Atlantis a thousand miles. 
 Beyond the peaks of the golden isles, 
 To the Ophir of Solomon. 
 
 So I'll find new roads to the golden isles. 
 
 To the gardens that bloom alway. 
 To the treasure quarries of Ispahan, 
 
 68 
 
The Agony op Suspense. 
 
 The sunlit hills of the mighty Khau, 
 And wonders of far Cathay. 
 
 And gold I'll bring from the islands fair; 
 
 And riches of palm and fir 
 Thou Shalt have, my king; and the lords of 
 
 Spain 
 Shall march with the Christ flag once again 
 
 And rescue the Sepulchre. ' 
 
 But the nobles smiled, and the prelates sneered 
 
 With many a scornful fling: 
 'Had not the wisest already said 
 It was but the scheme of an empty head, 
 
 And no fit thing for a king! 
 
 And were it true that the world is round 
 
 And not like an endless plain, 
 Were our good king's vessels the seas to ride 
 Adown the slope of the world's great side, 
 
 How would they get up again? 
 
 And the land of the fabled antipodes 
 Were a wonderful land to see, 
 Where people stand with their heads on the 
 
 ground. 
 And their feet in the air, while the world spins 
 round ' — 
 And they all laughed merrily. 
 
 But the king laughed not, though he scarce 
 believed 
 The things that his ears had heard ; 
 69 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 And he thought full long of the promise fair, 
 And he knew that the day and the hour were 
 there, 
 If a king were to keep his word. 
 
 So he said, 'For a while, for a little while 
 
 Let it bide, for the cost is great.' 
 But the guest replied : ' Nay, seven years 
 I have waited on with my hopes and my fears, 
 And soon it will be too late.' " 
 
 —S. H. M. Byers. 
 
 "He marked the last of Moorish kings. 
 
 His keys surrender o'er 
 To the King of Spain — and leave for aye 
 
 Whate'er he'd known before. 
 
 For old Granada gained, I ween, 
 
 Spain held a jubilee; 
 The while Columbus mused in thought, 
 
 Upon the Western Sea. 
 
 Then soon the king and queen he sought, 
 
 And prayed at once they'd keep 
 Their vow, to yield him outfit good 
 
 To course the unknown deep. 
 
 'And grant,' said he, 'thou sovereigns great, 
 
 That admiral I shall be. 
 Where'er shall sail your goodly ships. 
 
 Upon that distant sea.' " 
 
 — Emily Shaw Forman. 
 70 
 
The Agony op Suspense. 
 
 ''Ay, there's the rub!" And that was ''the 
 rub" also with King John of Portugal. It was 
 not the mere getting of ships, it was the com- 
 pensation, the rights and privileges which Co- 
 lumbus demanded that rendered the tardy 
 response to his requests. 
 
 He knew his worth and the stupendous value 
 of his services and could not brook less than 
 justice. Besides, great as was his project in 
 crossing the ocean, it was hardly second in his 
 heart to that other, though less-known one, of 
 raising an army and freeing the Holy Sepulchre 
 from the infidel. 
 
 That was the cause of his desire for gold in 
 the new world — simply as a means to that end. 
 
 ' ' O, key of gold, unlocking wealth of dreams ! 
 I dreamed of wealth ; yet chiefly to unlock 
 The Holy Sepulchre from heathen hold. 
 More have I suffered from the lies of men, 
 Than all the gain to me my service brought — 
 Save gain in heaven." 
 
 — George Parsons Lathrop. 
 
 "The Lord had sent this bright, strange dream 
 
 to me 
 To mind me of the secret vow I made 
 When Spain was waging war against the Moor, 
 I strove myself with Spain against the Moor. 
 There came two voices from the Sepulchre, 
 Two friars crying that if Spain should oust 
 
 71 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 The Moslem from her limits, he, the fierce 
 Soldan of Egypt, would break down and raze 
 The blessed tomb of Christ; whereon I vowed 
 That, if our Princes barkened to my prayer, 
 Whatever wealth I brought from that new 
 
 world 
 Should, in this old, be consecrate to lead 
 A new crusade against the Saracen 
 And free the Holy Sepulchre from thrall." 
 
 — Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 Ferdinand and Isabella, listening to the coun- 
 sellors, could not promise compliance to his 
 demands. 
 
 All, all, then was for nought — the long, long 
 anguish of hope deferred, ''which maketh the 
 heart sick." 
 
 "In those furrowed lines, 
 As on some faithful chart, might still be traced 
 The weary voyaging of many years; 
 That restless spirit pent in narrow bounds. 
 Yet ever looking with unquiet eye 
 Beyond old land-marks ; with unwearied soul 
 Still searching, prying into the unknown, 
 And hoarding richer sea-lore, till at last 
 Possessed and haunted of one grand Belief, 
 One mighty Thought no wretchedness could lay. 
 
 The weary interval — eighteen long years 
 Wandering from court to court — his Wondrous 
 Tale 
 
 72 
 
The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 Lost in half -heeding, dull, incredulous ears; 
 The patient toil — the honorable want 
 Endured so nobly — in his threadbare coat, 
 Mocked by the rabble — the half-uttered jeer — 
 And the pert finger tapping on the head. 
 May Heaven accord us patience — as to him!" 
 — Henry Howard Brownell. 
 
 He stipulated that his compensation should 
 be : Title as Admiral, to be held by him and his 
 descendants; one-tenth of gold and other ac- 
 crued outputs of the discovered land, and vice- 
 royalty of it. 
 
 Other terms were proposed by the sovereigns, 
 but no, for eighteen years he had waited and 
 hoped, and now he wearily, but undauntedly, 
 turned to try other lands and other realms. 
 
 'Twas then that the Grand Chancellor of 
 Aragon, Santangel, appeared before Isabella, 
 and spoke so fearlessly in rebuke, setting forth 
 the loss of glory to the crown, should others 
 accept what she so unwisely refused. 
 
 We may then imagine her exclamations : 
 
 '' 'Columbus gone! Haste! Bring him back to 
 
 me 
 
 Rather I fling my crown into the sea 
 
 Than he, rejected, pleading all in vain, 
 
 Shake from his pilgrim feet the dust of Spain ! 
 
 Ah, Ferdinand! the warrior's art you know, 
 And state-craft, and the subtle, tender show 
 
 73 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 f)f watchfulness that steals a woman's heart! 
 
 But there's a nobler science, finer art 
 
 Than gallantry, or state-craft: there are fields 
 
 Of battle fought with neither sword nor shield, 
 
 Where souls heroic bleed invisibly. 
 
 And falter not ; for down the watchful sky 
 
 A whisper bids them onward to the end, 
 
 And their own echoes answer, "To the end!" 
 
 To such, though to the glory round us shed 
 Of right divine to rule, they bow the head, 
 Our lives must seem, with all that they have 
 
 won. 
 Like some small planet's transit o'er the sun. 
 They seek a greater prize than that we see 
 Where red Alhambra lifts the Hand and Key, 
 And loftier walls to scale, or batter down, 
 Than those that o'er the rushing Darro frown. 
 
 A visionary, is he? Marked you how 
 Straight line on line ruled that studious brow? 
 Guessed you no sovereign text engraven there 
 'Twixt the wide-swelling temples' silvered hair? 
 A visionary! No great plan on earth 
 To which foreseeing minds have given birth 
 Was e'er accomplished, but some heart of stone 
 Found it impossible — till it was done! 
 
 Bring me my jewels — necklace, clasp and ring. 
 Bracelets and brooches, every shining thing! 
 Let not a single pearl roll out of sight 
 
 74 
 

The Agony of Suspense. 
 
 Of all 1113^ orient strings of milky light; 
 Miss not the heads of onyx finely wrought, 
 AYithhold no sun-bright diamond. There's 
 
 naught 
 Of cunning gold-work, nor of radiant stone, 
 Too precious to help pave the path whereon 
 Beyond the unknown waters, vast and dun, 
 The Cross shall travel with the westering sun! 
 Bring my Castilian gems whose wedded shine 
 Two kingdoms joined their hands to place in 
 
 mine. 
 Ah, my strong Castile and my brave Leon ! 
 I brought no lamb in fold to Aragon ! ' " 
 
 — Mary Agnes Tucker. 
 
 ' ' Then spake the queen : ' Be it done for me. 
 
 Here's my jewels, for woe or weal.' 
 And she took the gems from her shining hair, 
 And the priceless pearls she was wont to wear, 
 
 And she said, 'For my own Castile.' " 
 
 —8. H. M. Byers. 
 
 It is only '^ poetically" that Isabella pledged 
 her jewels — for that sacrifice was unnecessary, 
 as Santangel himself and other persons of 
 wealth would have advanced the money. It was 
 procured from the Exchequer of Aragon — 
 Ferdinand allowing its loan only. It was repaid 
 by Isabella and her "own Castile," so she in 
 reality provided the funds. 
 
 75 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 "Riding dejected from the royal court, 
 In friar's frock, deep-brooding o'er his woes, 
 A sound of hoofs out of the silence grows, 
 
 A steed approaches, what can this import? 
 
 A royal messenger dismounts, bends low — 
 The heart beneath the friar's robe stands 
 
 still. 
 He hears the message of the queen's good 
 will, 
 
 And turns his rein: with zeal his soul's aglow." 
 
 — Emily Shaw Forman. 
 
 76 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE GREAT VOYAGE: 
 THE SEA OF DARKNESS. 
 
 Now again was Friar Juan Perez indispen- 
 sable to Columbus, for what though he had 
 contract signed and sealed by the sovereigns, 
 and orders for ships to be furnished by Palos 
 town — a penalty for some delinquency in the 
 late war — still what were ships without sailors 
 to man them? And what heart stout enough to 
 undertake that unheard of voyage! 
 
 Juan Perez, known and respected by all the 
 fisherfolk, encouraged and aroused many to 
 action. 
 
 Two of his friends, worthy seamen, the 
 brothers Martin Alonzo and Vicente Yanez 
 Pinzon, became interested in the undertaking 
 and sailed as captains of the caravels ; Martin 
 Alonzo with thirty men, commanded the Pinta, 
 while Vicente Yanez who owned the Nina, ''the 
 little one," commanded her. 
 
 Here again does the novelist find a rich field 
 for his character setting, and many are the tales 
 of adventure describing that first voyage; 
 among the recent tales, and one that cannot 
 fail to interest the youth, is ''Diego Pinzon," 
 by John R. Coryell. 
 
 77 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 This story differs from others, in that its 
 scene lies upon the "Pinta," and the principal 
 character is Martin Alonzo Pinzon, her brave 
 but overbalanced commander, who could not 
 brook a superior, and who deserted and after- 
 wards strove to rob the great Admiral of his 
 honors. Failure of his attempt caused his 
 ignominious return and death from a broken 
 heart. 
 
 Juan de la Cosa, famous now for the chart 
 he made of the new world, owned the Santa 
 Maria, commanded by Columbus, and he sailed 
 in her as pilot. 
 
 How inspiringly the poets tell of that stupen- 
 dous journey! 
 
 ''The kings had mocked, 
 The monks sustained him. Hail, Rabida, hail! 
 Thy cloisters he had paced ; thy pathways hard 
 Yet sweet with lavender and thyme ; had gazed 
 On the azure waves from Palos' promontory; 
 Listened its meek Superior's words: 'Fear 
 
 naught ! 
 Beyond that beaming ocean lies thy world ! 
 Thou seek'st that world for God's sake, not for 
 
 man's; 
 Therefore God grants it thee.' Next morn he 
 
 sailed : 
 That holy monk his great Viaticum 
 Gave him while yet 'twas dark." 
 
 — Aubrey de Vere. 
 
 78 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 "Say wlio, when age on age had rolled away, 
 And still, as sunk the golden orb of day, 
 The seamen watched him, while he lingered 
 
 here, 
 With many a wish to follow, many a fear, 
 And gazed and gazed and wonderc^d where he 
 
 went. 
 So bright his jjath, so glorious his descent. 
 Who first adventured — in his birth obscure. 
 Yet born to build a fame that should endure. 
 Who the great secret of the Deep possessed. 
 And, issuing through the portals of the West, 
 Fearless, resolved, with every sail unfurled 
 Planted his standard on the Unknown World? 
 Him, by the Pajniim bard descried of yore. 
 And 'ere his coming sung on either shore, 
 Him could not I exalt — by Heaven designed 
 To lift the veil that covered half mankind!" 
 
 — Samuel Rogers. 
 
 "() Thou! whose mandate dust inert obeyed. 
 What is this creature man whom Thou hast 
 
 made? 
 On Palos' shore, whose crowded strand 
 Bore priests and nobles of the land. 
 And rustic hinds and townsmen trim, 
 And harnessed soldiers stern and grim, 
 And lowly maids and dames of pride, 
 And infants by their mothers ' side, — 
 The boldest seaman stood that e 'er 
 Did bark or ship through tempest steer; 
 
 79 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 And wise as bold and good as wise, 
 The magnet of a thousand eyes, 
 That, on his form and features cast, 
 His noble mien and simple guise. 
 In wonder seemed to look their last. 
 A form which conscious worth is gracing, 
 A face where Hope, the lines effacing 
 Of thought and care, bestowed in truth, 
 To the quick eyes' imperfect tracing. 
 The look and air of youth. 
 
 Who, in his lofty gait, and high 
 Expression of the enlightened eye, 
 Had recognized, in that bright hour. 
 The disappointed suppliant of dull power, 
 Who had in vain of states and kings desired 
 The pittance for his vast empire required? 
 The patient sage, who, by his lamp's faint light. 
 O'er chart and map spent the long silent night? 
 The man who meekly fortune's buffets bore, 
 Trusting in One alone, whom Heaven and earth 
 adore ! 
 
 Another world is in his mind. 
 
 Peopled with creatures of his kind. 
 
 With hearts to feel, with minds to soar. 
 
 Thoughts to consider and explore; 
 
 Souls who might find, from trespass shriven. 
 
 Virtue on earth and joy in Heaven. 
 
 'That Power divine, whom storms obey,' 
 (Whispered his heart), 'a leading star, 
 
 80 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 Will guide him on his blessed way; 
 Brothers to join by fate divided far,' 
 Vain thoughts ! which Heaven doth but ordain 
 In part to be, the rest, alas! how vain!" 
 
 — Joanna Baillie. 
 
 ''The wind was fair, the ships lay in the bay, 
 And the blue sky looked down upon the earth; 
 Prophetic Time laughed toward the nearing 
 
 birth 
 Of the strong child with whom should come a 
 
 day 
 That dulled all earlier hours." 
 
 — Louis James Block. 
 
 ''Embarked, and on the sea at last! at last! 
 The toil of a long life — a Deathless Name, 
 The undetermined fates of all to come. 
 Staked on his prow — it is no little thing 
 Will turn aside that soul, long resolute, 
 (Though every heart grow faint, and every 
 
 tongue 
 Murmur in mutiny), to hold its course 
 Onward, still onward, through the pathless void, 
 The lone untravelled wilderness of waves — 
 ' Onward ! still onward ! we shall find it yet ! ' " 
 — Henry Howard Brownell. 
 
 "Christ, on these shoulders rest, 
 While I the billows breast; 
 My only care, 
 
 81 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Christ and His Truth to bear 
 
 To shores unknown 
 
 Where God is not, 
 
 In His own works forgot! 
 
 Queen, on thy starry throne. 
 
 Cheer, with thine eyes benign. 
 
 This lonely quest of mine ! ' ' 
 
 — Eliza Allen Starr. 
 
 ''Over the wide unknown 
 
 Far to the shores of Ind, 
 On through the dark alone. 
 
 Like a feather blown by the wind; 
 Into the West away. 
 
 Sped by the breath of God, 
 Seeking the clearer day 
 
 Where only His feet have trod : 
 From the past to the future we sail ; 
 
 We slip from the leash of kings. 
 Hail, Spirit of Freedom — Hail! 
 
 Unfurl thine impalpable wings! 
 Eeceive us, protect us, and bless 
 
 Thy knights who brave all for thee. 
 Though death be thy soft caress. 
 
 By that touch shall our souls be free. 
 Onward and ever on. 
 
 Till the voice of despair is stilled, 
 Till the haven of peace is won, 
 
 And the purpose of God fulfilled!" 
 
 — Harriet Monroe, 
 
 82 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 ''Immortal morn, all hail, 
 That saw Columbus sail 
 
 By Faith alone. 
 The skies before him bowed. 
 Back rolled the ocean proud, 
 And every lifting cloud 
 
 With glory shone. 
 
 Fair Science then was born 
 On that celestial morn. 
 
 Faith dared the sea; 
 Triumphant o'er her foes, 
 Then Truth immortal rose. 
 New heavens to disclose 
 
 And Earth to free. 
 
 Strong Freedom then came forth. 
 To liberate the earth 
 
 And crown the right: 
 So walked the pilot bold 
 Upon the sea of gold. 
 And darkness backward rolled. 
 
 And there was light. 
 
 Sweep, sweep across the seas, 
 Ye rolling jubilees, 
 
 Grand chorals raise; 
 The world adoring stands, 
 And with uplifted hands 
 Offers from all the lands. 
 
 To God, its praise. 
 
 83 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Ye hosts of Faith, sing on; 
 The victories ye have won 
 
 Shall Time increase, 
 And like the choral strain 
 That fell on Bethlehem's plain, 
 Inspire the perfect reign 
 
 Of Love and Peace." 
 
 — Hezehiah Butterworth. 
 
 "There were three ships sailing from Palos 
 town 
 
 Ere the noon of a summer's day. 
 And the people looked at the ships and said, 
 ^ God pity their souls, for they all are dead ; ' 
 
 But the ships went down the bay. 
 
 And an east wind blew, and the convent bells 
 
 Rang out in sweet accord, 
 And the master stood on the deck and cried, 
 'We sail in the name of thQ Crucified, 
 
 With the flag of the Christ our Lord ! ' 
 
 They were ten days out when a storm wind 
 blew — 
 
 Ten days from the coast of Spain, 
 And the sailors shrived each other and said, 
 ' God help us now, or we all are dead ! 
 
 We will never see land again.' 
 
 They were twelve days out when an ocean rock 
 Burst forth in a sea of fire, 
 
 84 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 As if each peak and each lava cliff 
 Of the red-hot sides of Teneriffe 
 
 Were a sea-king's funeral-pyre. 
 
 And the sailors crossed themselves and said, 
 
 'Alas for the day we swore 
 To follow a reckless adventurer — 
 Though it be at last to the Sepulchre — 
 
 In search of an unknown shore!' 
 
 And they spoke of the terror that lay between, 
 
 Of the hurricanes born of hell. 
 Of the sunless seas that forever roar, 
 Where the moon had perished long years 
 before. 
 When an evil spirit fell. 
 
 And ever the winds blew West, blew West, 
 
 And the ships flew over the main. 
 'They are cursed winds,' the mariners said, 
 'That blow us forever ahead — ahead; 
 They will never blow back to Spain.' 
 
 But the master cited the Holy Writ ; 
 
 And he told of a vision fair, 
 How a shining angel would show the way 
 To the Indus Isles and the sweet Cathay, 
 
 And he 'knew they were almost there.' " 
 
 —S. H. M. Byers. 
 
 85 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 ''Fiercer eight days the tempest roared and 
 
 raved ; 
 Feebler each day that God-protected bark, 
 Shuddering in every plank, and panting, clomb 
 The mountain waves, or sank to vales betwixt 
 
 them. 
 
 Meantime the great Sea-wanderer lay nigh 
 
 death 
 In agonies unnamed : old wounds once more 
 Bled fast at every joint. At times his head 
 He raised to learn if stood the masts, or fell; 
 Then on his pallet sank with hands hard 
 
 clasped. 
 Silent. Full oft the mariners o'erspent 
 Approached him, clamoring, 'Master, give it 
 
 o'er! 
 Drift we before the storm to loved Castile ! ' 
 
 Such suppliants still Columbus answered thus 
 In words unchanged : ' Good news were that for 
 
 powers 
 Accursed, who clutch dominion long usurped, 
 Lording God's western world! They hate the 
 
 Cross, 
 And know that when it lands their realm dis- 
 solves. 
 Theirs is this tempest ; and therein they ride ! ' 
 
 The eighth eve had come. While hard the sun- 
 set strove 
 To pierce the on-racing clouds, a cry rang out 
 
 86 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 Re-echoed from those caravels three hard-by — 
 The cry of men death-doomed." 
 
 — Aubrey de Vere. 
 
 ''Palos, thy port, with many a pang resigned, 
 Filled with its busy scenes his lonely mind ; 
 The solemn march, the vows in concert given, 
 The bended knees and lifted hand to Heaven, 
 The incensed rites, the choral harmonies. 
 The Guardian's blessings mingling with his 
 
 sighs ; 
 While his dear boys— ah, on his neck they hung, 
 And long at parting to his garments clung. 
 
 Oft in the silent night-watch doubt and fear 
 Broke in uncertain murmurs on his ear. 
 Oft the stern Catalan, at noon of day. 
 Muttered dark threats and lingered to obey." 
 
 — Samuel Rogers. 
 
 ''Would all the dolls of Spain 
 Had been afloat with us the day the fire. 
 So cunning smothered, burst its way out, 
 
 pricked 
 Eound him in swords and knives till that old 
 
 dog. 
 That in his time scratched a dragon, croaked — 
 'Cast, cast her, lads; we're in the port of Hell!' 
 
 'Twas in mid-ocean. Suddenly the thought 
 Of home seized on the sailors ; like caged beasts 
 
 87 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 They turned, gap- jawed, and sprang to take 
 
 the hehn, 
 And point the little vessel back to shore. 
 
 Old Dauntless — stiff, death-stiff with pains — 
 
 the same 
 That plague him now — propped on his crutch, 
 
 ghost-pale. 
 Appeared. The power gray sailors dread worse 
 Than shoals of devils was on him, crown to heel. 
 His long face short 'ning inches, his great eyes 
 Straining their sockets — so he came to stand. 
 To glare to right and left unspeakable wrath. 
 Till every cur slunk in his kennel, whined 
 And howled to Heaven for pardon of his 
 
 sins " 
 
 — John Vance Cheney. 
 
 " 'My men and brothers, westward lies our 
 
 way 
 
 f 
 
 So spoke Columbus, looking on the sea. 
 Which stretched before him to infinity; 
 And while he sailed he wrote these words each 
 day. 
 
 As though, 'West lies thy course,' he heard 
 God say, 
 With promise of the blessings which should 
 
 be 
 When a New World had borne young Liberty, 
 As fair and fresh as flowers in month of May. 
 
 88 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 God-appointed man ! all hail to thee ! 
 
 Thou other Moses of a chosen race, 
 Who out of darkness and captivity 
 
 Leadest the people from the tyrant's face, 
 To where all men shall equal be and free. 
 
 And evil life alone shall be disgrace." 
 
 — John Lancaster Spalding. 
 
 ''Sail on, Columbus! sail right onward still, 
 'er watery waste of trackless billows sail. 
 Nor let a doubting race make thy heart fail 
 
 Till a New World upglow beneath thy will. 
 
 Let storms break forth and driving winds be 
 
 shrill ; 
 
 But be thou steadfast when all others quail, 
 
 Still looking westward till the night grows 
 
 pale. 
 
 And the long dreamed of land thy glad eyes fill. 
 
 Great world-revealer, sail! God leads the way 
 Across the gloomy, fathomless dark sea, 
 
 Of man unvisited until this day. 
 But which henceforth for the whole world 
 shall be 
 
 The road to nobler life and wider sway. 
 Where tyrants perish and all men are free." 
 
 — John Lancaster Spalding. 
 
 89 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 ' *■ Steer on, bold sailor. Wit may mock thy soul 
 
 that sees the land, 
 And hopeless at the helm may droop the weak 
 
 and weary hand; 
 Yet ever, ever to the West, for there the coast 
 
 must lie. 
 And dim it dawns and glimmering dawns before 
 
 thy reason's eye; 
 Yea, trust the guiding God, and go along the 
 
 floating grave. 
 Though hid till now, yet now behold the New 
 
 World o'er the wave! 
 With Genius, Nature ever stands in solemn 
 
 union still. 
 And ever what the one foretells the other shall 
 
 fulfill." . . 
 
 — Friedrich von Schiller. 
 
 — Translated by E. Bulwer Lytton. 
 
 "Heroic guide! whose wings are never furled, 
 
 By thee Spain's voyager sought another world; 
 
 What but poetic impulse could sustain 
 
 That dauntless pilgrim on the dreary main? 
 
 Day after day his mariners protest, 
 
 And gaze with dread along the pathless West; 
 
 Beyond that realm of waves untracked before, 
 
 Thy fairy pencil traced the promised shore; 
 
 Through weary storms and faction's fiercer 
 
 rage. 
 The scoffs of ingrates and the chills of age, 
 Thy voice renewed his earnestness of aim, 
 
 90 
 
Ooluinl)Us on l)<'ck of the Santa ^fa|•ia 
 
 fiUly 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 And whispered pledges of eternal fame; 
 Thy cheering smile atoned for fortune's frown, 
 And made his fetters garlands of renown." 
 — Henry T. Tuckerman. 
 
 *' Westward Columbus steered, while, day by 
 
 day. 
 On Toscanelli's chart he traced the way 
 Across the Sea of Darkness, to Cathay. 
 
 Sure of his goal where others dimly guessed, 
 No doubt disturbed him in his certain quest 
 For the known Orient in the unknown West. 
 
 If Asia girds the solid globe around, 
 
 With its vast bulk, somewhere its Eastern 
 
 bound 
 Beyond the untracked Ocean must be found. 
 
 His day-dream this, through all the weary 
 
 strain 
 Of hope deferred and succor sought in vain, 
 The slights of sovereigns and the world's dis- 
 dain. 
 
 No day-dream now; Santa Maria's keel 
 Ploughs the main sea to shores that shall reveal 
 New realms for Christ, Columbus, and Castile. 
 
 There, at his touch, shall India's gates unfold. 
 
 As in the tale that Marco Polo told, 
 
 The Magi's wealth of spices, gems, and gold. 
 
 91 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Himself the lord of all the vast domain, 
 Viceroy of vassal kingdoms, won for Spain, 
 Trophies, unmatched, of Isabella's reign. 
 
 Then shall his vow be paid, with unsheathed 
 
 sword, 
 To lead, beneath the banner of his Lord, 
 A new crusade against the Moslem horde. 
 
 What though his scattered barks are tossed 
 
 and blown 
 By every wind that sweeps the storm-girt zone, 
 And all hearts fail for fear, except his own. 
 
 While traitorous lips on each frail caraval 
 Curse the mad whim which lured, with wizard 
 
 spell, 
 To outer darkness and the jaws of Hell; 
 
 Fixed as the polar star, above the swarm 
 Of craven comrades, towers his lofty form. 
 Steadfast, immovable, in calm and storm. 
 
 His boundless faith, like the broad sea he sailed, 
 Compassed with clouds, with angry blasts 
 
 assailed. 
 Was fed by mighty streams which never 
 
 failed." 
 
 — William Allen Butler. 
 
 92 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 "' 'Twas night. The moon, o'er the wave, dis- 
 closed 
 Her awful face; and Nature's self reposed; 
 When, slowly rising in the azure sky, 
 Three white sails shone — but to no mortal eye. 
 Entering a boundless sea. In slumber cast. 
 The very ship-boy, on the dizzy mast. 
 Half breathed his orisons! Alone unchanged, 
 Calmly, beneath, the great Commander ranged, 
 Thoughtful, not sad ; and, as the planet grew, 
 His noble form, wrapt in his mantle blue, 
 Athwart the deck a deeping shadow threw. 
 
 He turned, but what strange thought perplexed 
 
 his soul. 
 The compass, faithless to the Pole, 
 Fluttered and fixed, fluttered and fixed again ! 
 At length, as by some unseen hand impressed. 
 It sought with trembling energy — the West! 
 
 A mighty wind, 
 Not like the fitful blast, with fury blind, 
 But deep, majestic, in its destined course, 
 Sprung with unerring, unrelenting force. 
 From the bright East. Tides duly ebbed and 
 
 flowed ; 
 Stars rose and set; and new horizons glowed: 
 Yet still it blew! As with primeval sway 
 Still did its ample spirit, night and day. 
 Move on the waters ! all, resigned to fate. 
 Folded their arms and sate ; and seemed to wait 
 
 93 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Some sudden change; and sought, in chill sus- 
 pense, 
 New spheres of being, and new modes of sense, 
 As men departing, though not doomed to die, 
 And midway on their passage to eternity. 
 
 'Ah, why look back, tho' all is left behind? 
 No sounds of life are stirring in the wind. 
 And you, ye birds, winging your passage home, 
 How blest ye are ! We know not where we roam. 
 We go, ' they cried, ' go to return no more ; 
 Nor ours, alas, the transport to explore 
 A human footstep on a desert shore ! ' 
 
 Still, as beyond this mortal life impelled 
 By some mysterious energy, he held 
 His everlasting course. Still self-possessed, 
 High on the deck he stood, disdaining rest; 
 (His amber chain the only badge he bore. 
 His mantle blue such as his fathers wore) 
 Fathomed with searching hand, the dark pro- 
 found. 
 And scattered hope and glad assurance round; 
 
 Yet who but he undaunted could explore 
 A world of waves, a sea without a shore. 
 Trackless and vast and wild as that revealed 
 When round the Ark the birds of tempest 
 
 wheeled ; 
 When all was still in the destroying hour. 
 No sign of man! No vestige of his power! 
 
 94 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 One at the stern before the hour-glass stood 
 As 'twere to count the sands ; one o 'er the flood 
 Gazed for St. Elmo; while another cried, 
 ' Once more good morrow ! ' and sate down and 
 
 sighed. 
 Day, when it came, came only with its light. 
 Though long invoked, 'twas sadder than the 
 
 night ! 
 Look where he would, forever as he turned, 
 He met the eye of one that inly mourned. ' ' 
 
 — Samuel Rogers. 
 
 ''Here am I; for what end God knows, not I; 
 Westward still points the inexorable soul: 
 Here am I with no friend but the sad sea, 
 The beating heart of this great enterprise, 
 Which, without me, would stiffen in swift death ; 
 This have I mused on, since mine eye could first 
 Among the stars distinguish and with joy 
 Eest on that God-fed Pharos of the North, 
 On some blue promontory of heaven lighted 
 That juts far out into the upper sea. 
 
 The cordage creaks and rattles in the wind, 
 With whims of sudden hush; the reeling sea 
 Now thumps like solid rock beneath the stern, 
 Now leaps with clumsy wrath, strikes short, 
 
 and, falling 
 Crumbled to whispery foam, slips rustling 
 
 down 
 The broad backs of the waves, which jostle and 
 
 crowd 
 
 95 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 To fling themselves upon that unknown shore, 
 Their used familiar since the dawn of time, 
 Whither his foredoomed life is guided on 
 To sway on triumph's hushed, aspiring, 
 One loitering moment, then break fulfilled. 
 
 How lonely is the sea's perpetual swing. 
 The melancholy wash of perpetual waves. 
 The sigh of some grim monster undescried. 
 Fear-painted on the canvas of the dark. 
 Shifting on his uneasy pillow of brine! 
 
 Yet night brings more companions than the day 
 To this drear waste; new constellations burn. 
 And fairer stars, with whose calm height my 
 
 soul 
 Finds nearer sympathy than with my herd 
 Of earthen souls, whose vision's scanty ring 
 Makes me its prisoner to beat my wings 
 Against the cold bars of their unbelief, 
 Knowing in vain my own free Heaven beyond. 
 
 God ! this world, so crammed with eager life. 
 That comes and goes and wanders back to 
 
 silence 
 Like the idle wind, which yet man's shaping 
 
 mind 
 Can make his drudge to swell the longing sails 
 Of highest endeavor — this mad, unthrift world. 
 Which, every hour, throws life enough away 
 To make her deserts kind and hospitable, 
 
 96 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 Lets her great destinies be waved aside 
 By smooth, lip-reverent, formal infidels, 
 Who weigh the God they not believe, with gold, 
 And find no spot in Judas, save that he, 
 Driving a duller bargain than he ought, 
 Saddled his guild with too cheap precedent. 
 
 Faith! if thou art strong, thine opposite 
 
 Is mighty also, and the dull fool's sneer 
 
 Hath ofttimes shot chill palsy through the arm 
 
 Just lifted to achieve its crowning deed, 
 
 And made the firm-based heart, that would have 
 
 quailed 
 The rack or fagot, shudder like a leaf 
 Wrinkled with frost, and loose upon its stem. 
 
 One faith against a whole earth's unbelief. 
 One soul against the flesh of all mankind " 
 
 — James Russell Lowell. 
 
 "On the deck stood Columbus: the ocean's 
 
 expanse. 
 Untried and unlimited, swept by his glance. 
 'Back to Spain!' cry his men; 'put the vessel 
 
 about ! 
 We venture no farther through danger and 
 
 doubt. ' 
 'Three days, and I give you a world!' he 
 
 replied ; 
 'Bear up, my brave comrades; three days shall 
 
 decide. ' 
 
 97 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 He sails — but no token of land is in sight; 
 He sails — but the day shows no more than the 
 
 night ; 
 On, onward he sails, while in vain o'er the lee 
 The lead is plunged down through a fathomless 
 
 sea. 
 
 The pilot, in silence, leans mournfully o'er 
 The rudder, which creaks 'mid the billowy roar ; 
 He hears the hoarse moan of the spray-driving 
 
 blast, 
 And its funeral wail through the shrouds of the 
 
 mast. 
 
 The stars of far Europe have sunk in the skies, 
 
 And the great Southern Cross meets his terri- 
 fied eyes. 
 
 But at length the slow dawn, softly streaking 
 the night. 
 
 Illumes the blue vault with its faint crimson 
 light. 
 
 'Columbus! 'tis day, and the darkness is o'er.' 
 
 'Day! and what dost thou see?' 'Sky and ocean. 
 
 No more.' 
 
 The second day's past, and Columbus is 
 
 sleeping. 
 While Mutiny near him its vigil is keeping. 
 'Shall he perish?' 'Ay! death!' is the barbarous 
 
 cry; 
 'He must triumph tomorrow, or, perjured, 
 
 must die ! ' 
 
 98 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 Ungrateful and blind! shall the world-linking 
 
 sea 
 He traced for the Future his sepulchre be? 
 Shall that sea, or the morrow, with pitiless 
 
 waves, 
 Fling his corpse on that shore which his patient 
 
 eye craves? 
 The corpse of an humble adventurer then; 
 One day later — Columbus, the first among 
 
 men!" 
 
 — Delavigne. 
 
 ' ' One day more 
 These muttering shoalbrains leave to me: 
 God, let me not in their dull ooze be stranded; 
 Let not this one frail bark, to hollow which 
 I have dug out the pith and sinewy heart 
 Of my aspiring life's fair trunk, be so 
 Cast up to warp and blacken in the sun, 
 Just as the opposing wind 'gins whistle off 
 His cheek-swollen pack, and from the leaning 
 
 mast 
 Fortune's full sail strains forward! ; 
 
 One poor day! 
 Eemember whose and not how short it is! 
 It is God's day, it is Columbus'. 
 A lavish day! One day, with life and heart. 
 Is more than time enough to find a world." 
 
 —James Russell Lowell. 
 99 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 ''Columbus on the lonesome deck 
 
 Kept watch at dead of night, 
 Searching with anxious eyes, the dark — 
 What sees he far away? A spark, 
 
 A little glimmering light." 
 
 — J. T. Trowbridge. 
 
 ' ' Chosen of Men ! 'Twas thine, at noon of night, 
 First from the prow to hail the glimmering 
 
 light; 
 (Emblem of Truth divine, whose secret ray 
 Enters the soul, and makes the darkness day!) 
 
 ' Pedro ! Rodrigo ! there, methought, it shone ! 
 There — in the West! and now, alas, 'tis gone! 
 'Twas all a dream — ^we gaze and gaze in vain ! 
 — But mark and speak not, there it comes again ! 
 It moves! what form unseen, what being there 
 With torch-like luster fires the murky airf 
 His instincts, passions, say, how like our own? 
 Oh! when will day reveal a world unknown?' " 
 
 — Samuel Rogers. 
 
 ''But hush ! he is dreaming ! A veil on the main, 
 At the distant horizon, is parted in twain. 
 And now on his dreaming eye — rapturous sight ! 
 Fresh bursts the New World from the darkness 
 of night! 
 
 O vision of glory, how dazzling it seems! 
 How glistens the verdure! How sparkle the 
 streams ! 
 
 100 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 How blue the far mountains! how glad the 
 
 green isles! 
 And the earth and the ocean, how dimpled with 
 
 smiles ! 
 'Joy! joy!' cries Columbus, 'this region is 
 
 mine ! ' 
 — Ah! not e'en its name, wondrous dreamer, is 
 
 thine ! 
 
 At length o'er Columbus slow consciousness 
 
 breaks — 
 'Land! land!' cry the sailors; 'land! land!' he 
 
 awakes. 
 He runs — ^yes ! beholds it ! it blesses his sight — 
 The land ! dear spectacle ! transport ! delight ! 
 generous sobs, which he cannot restrain! 
 What will Ferdinand say? and the Future? and 
 
 Spain? 
 He will lay this fair land at the foot of the 
 
 throne — 
 His king will repay all the ills he has known ! ' ' 
 
 — Delavigne. 
 
 "Then boomed the Pinta's signal gun! 
 
 The first that ever broke 
 The silence of a world. That sound — 
 Echoing to savage depths profound — 
 
 A continent awoke. 
 
 Wild joy possessed each sailor's heart 
 When day revealed a rich 
 
 101 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 And fruitful island, fair and green, 
 Where naked savages were seen 
 Running along the beach. 
 
 The Santa Maria moves proudly up. 
 
 And drops her anchor nighest; 
 And 'Glory to God' the sailors sing, 
 With 'Glory to God' the wild woods ring — 
 ' Glory to God in the highest ! ' 
 
 The boat is manned, and toward the land 
 
 Swift fly the flashing oars ; 
 High at the prow the Admiral, 
 In princely garb, superb and tall, 
 
 Surveys the savage shores. 
 
 They touch the strand, he stepped to land. 
 
 And knelt and kissed the sod. 
 With all his followers. Amazed 
 Far off the painted redman gazed, 
 
 Believing him a god. 
 
 Then up rose he and solemnly. 
 
 With bright sword drawn, advanced 
 
 The standard of the King and Queen; 
 
 On its rich sheen of gold and green. 
 The sunlight glory glanced." 
 
 — J. T. Trowbridge. 
 
 "In robes of scarlet and princely gold, 
 On the New World's land they kneel; 
 In the name of Christ, whom all adore, 
 
 102 
 
The Great Voyage, 
 
 They christened the island San Salvador, 
 For the crown of their own Castile. 
 
 And the simple islanders gazed in awe 
 On the 'gods from another sphere'; 
 And they brought them gifts of the Yuca bread, 
 And golden trinkets and parrots red, 
 And showed them the islands near. 
 
 They told of the lords of the golden house. 
 
 Of the mountains of Cibao ; 
 The cavern where once the moon was born. 
 The hills that waken the sun at morn. 
 
 And the isles where the spices grow." 
 
 —S. H. M. Byers. 
 
 "With wondering awe, the redman saw 
 
 The silken cross unfurled. 
 His task was done ; for good or ill, 
 The fatal banner of Castile 
 
 Waved o'er the Western World." 
 
 — J. T. Trowbridge. 
 
 "Long on the deep the mists of morning lay. 
 Then rose, revealing, as they rolled away. 
 Half-circling hills, whose everlasting woods 
 Sweep with their sable skirt the shadowy 
 
 floods; 
 And say, when all, to holy transports given. 
 Embraced and wept as at the gates of Heaven, 
 When one and all of us, repentant, ran. 
 And on our faces, blessed the wondrous man — 
 
 103 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Say, was I then deceived, or from tlie skies 
 Burst on my ear seraphic harmonies? 
 'Glory to God!' unnumbered voices sung, 
 ' Glory to God ! ' the vales and mountains rung, 
 Voices that hailed Creation's primal morn 
 And to the shepherds sung a Savior born. 
 
 Slowly, bare-headed, through the surf we bore 
 The sacred Cross, and, kneeling, kissed the 
 shore. 
 
 But what a scene was there! Nymphs of ro- 
 mance. 
 Youths, graceful as the fawn, with eager glance, 
 Spring from the glades and down the alleys 
 
 peep. 
 Then head-long rush, bounding from steep to 
 
 steep. 
 And clap their hands, exclaiming as they run, 
 ' Come and behold the children of the Sun ! ' " 
 
 — Samuel Rogers. 
 
 "He was a man whom danger could not daunt. 
 
 Nor sophistry perplex, nor pain subdue; 
 A stoic, reckless of the world's vain taunt. 
 
 And steeled the path of honor to pursue : 
 So, when by all deserted, still he knew 
 
 How best to soothe the heartsick, or confront 
 Sedition; schooled with equal eye to view 
 
 The frowns of grief and the base pangs of 
 want. 
 
 104 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 But when lie saw that promised land arise 
 In all its rare and beautiful varieties 
 
 Lovelier than fondest fancy ever trod, 
 Then softening nature melted in his eyes; 
 
 He knew his fame was full, and blessed his God, 
 
 And fell upon his face and kissed the virgin 
 
 sod!" 
 
 — Aubrey de Vere. 
 
 ''Then first Columbus, with the mighty hand 
 Of grasping genius, weighed the sea and land; 
 The floods o'er balanced — where the tide of 
 
 light, 
 Day after day, rolled down the gulf of night. 
 There seemed one waste of waters — lona; in 
 
 vain 
 His spirits brooded o'er the Atlantic main; 
 
 When sudden, as creation burst from naught, 
 Sprang a new world through his stupendous 
 
 thought, 
 Light, order, beauty ! While his mind explored 
 The unveiling mystery, his heart adored; 
 Where'er sublime imagination trod, 
 He heard the voice, he saw the face, of God. 
 
 The winds are prosperous, and the billows bore 
 The brave adventurer to the promised shore; 
 Far in the west, arrayed in purple light, 
 Dawn'd the New World on his enraptured 
 sight : 
 
 105 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Not Adam, loosened from the encumbering 
 
 earth, — 
 Waked by the breath of God to instant birth, — 
 With sweeter, wilder wonder gazed around. 
 When life within, and light without, he found; 
 When, all creation rushing o'er his soul. 
 He seemed to live and breathe throughout the 
 
 whole. 
 
 So felt Columbus, when, divinely fair. 
 
 At the last look of resolute despair, 
 
 The Hesperian Isles, from distance dimly blue. 
 
 With gradual beauty opened on his view. 
 
 In that proud moment, his transported mind 
 The morning and the evening worlds combined. 
 And made the sea, that sundered them before, 
 A bond of peace, uniting shore to shore." 
 
 w ^- ^ -)f w 
 
 — James Montgomery. 
 
 ''His hour of eager hope, when through the 
 
 night. 
 On his lone watch, a far-off light 
 Flashed, like a beacon, on his startled sight. 
 
 His hour of triumph, when the air was stirred 
 With scented breeze and wing of forest bird, 
 And from aloft the cry of 'Land!' was heard. 
 
 But not the land he sought ; how strange the lot 
 By Fortune cast, his one bright page to blot ; 
 He found the New World and he knew it not! 
 
 106 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 Nor ever kneiv; the throne of Kubla Khan 
 Four times he sought and then, beneath the ban 
 Of failure, died — a broken-hearted man. 
 
 The shores he gained were Asia's shores to 
 
 him ; 
 His later cup of Fame, filled to the brim, 
 He tasted not, nor even touched the rim. 
 
 But though he walked not in the full-orbed light 
 Of his own fame, and died without its sight. 
 Yet was he first in time and first in right — 
 
 The great Discoverer — whose soul of flame 
 Lighted the path for all who ever came 
 To this New World, which should have borne 
 his name. 
 
 Judge not by what he thought, but what he did. 
 When, once for all, he rent the veil that hid 
 The Toltec shrine from Egypt's pyramid, 
 
 And entering in, the first of Pioneers, 
 For all Mankind and all the coming years, 
 Set face to face the sundered Hemispheres. 
 
 Not for Castile and Leon's narrow bound. 
 Nor for Granada 's sovereigns, doubly crowned. 
 Was the new Western World Columbus found. 
 
 Nor for the ancient Empires, crushed and rent 
 By wars and kingcraft, was his life-work spent 
 To add another Continent: 
 
 107 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Nor yet to plant anew his Latin race, 
 
 Whose conquering march, with fire and sword, 
 
 we trace 
 From Cuba's capes to Chimborazo's base, 
 
 Where Nature 's sunlit sky and tropic hue 
 From distant Spain the bold adventurers drew 
 To graft the Old World stock upon the New. 
 
 Northward, the issue of his work outran 
 These narrow bounds, to shape the unfolding 
 
 plan 
 That to its goal uplifts the race of Man. 
 
 In grander realms than Cortez' iron hand 
 Snatched from the Aztec, or Pizarro's hand 
 From captive Incas wrung, with sword and 
 brand. 
 
 To plant a New World State, full armed to cope 
 With Old World wrongs and girt with amplest 
 
 scope 
 For every human need and human hope. 
 
 Where all that Toil has gained, or Truth has 
 
 taught, 
 And all the victories won where Freedom 
 
 fought. 
 Forever crown the work Columbus wrought. 
 
 And if, today, it is our right to claim 
 
 The full inheritance of his great fame 
 
 And bid the whole World welcome in his name, 
 
 108 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 Blent with our loftiest note of praise shall 
 
 soar — 
 A distant echo from a far-off shore — 
 His first Te Deum at San Salvador." 
 
 — William Allen Butler. 
 
 ' ' God chose thee out, man of faith and pray- 
 er, 
 And sent thee o'er the deep — if truth be told. 
 Neither ambition's greed nor lust of gold 
 Could make thy heart so confidently dare. 
 'The boldest steer,' the poet saith, 'but where 
 Their ports invite.' Yet thou, divinely bold. 
 Didst little reck what wrathful billows rolled 
 'Twixt thee and shores imagined — havens fair 
 Which seemed to lesser minds the veriest 
 
 'stuff 
 That dreams are made of. ' 
 
 Into the vast unknown 
 
 Thou wentest forth — in steadfast hope, alone. 
 But God was with thee: for thy peace enough. 
 His breezes served thee; and when seas were 
 
 dark. 
 His stars more surely led thy destined bark. 
 
 Ay, and for thee a Star shone all the way 
 Which others would not see — the Queen of 
 
 Stars ; 
 Brighter than Venus, Jupiter and Mars 
 In one ; and clearest 'mid the blaze of day : 
 The Ocean Star, whose sweetly constant ray 
 
 109 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Smiled calmness on a brow no petty jars 
 Could vex — a brow where pain had printed 
 
 scars 
 Which told of vanquished self through years of 
 
 fray. 
 Thy soul, uplifted ever to the light 
 Of that true Guide whose name thy vessel bore, 
 Took her for pilot. Morning, noon and night, 
 To her thine 'Aves' rose: and more and more 
 Thy trust increased, the sullen crew despite — 
 Their menace deadlier than the tempest's 
 
 — Benjamin D. Hill, C. P. 
 
 "A fertile continent thou gav'st mankind. 
 Which only lay in lonely idleness; 
 Through sufferings terrible, and great distress 
 This was accomplished; for thy noble mind 
 And faith excelled all others — thou stood 'st 
 
 alone. 
 But ttou didst know thyself — as now thou'rt 
 
 known — 
 And thou didst prove thy disbelievers blind. 
 
 Immortal man, the world yet owes to thee 
 A tribute for thy hardships and thy pain; 
 Thy misery proved in truth to be its gain. 
 Thy woes have given to it prosperity. 
 Four centuries have praised thy lofty name, 
 And ages yet to come will keep thy fame, 
 And glory in thy deathless memory." 
 
 — Albert J. Riipp. 
 110 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 ''What no man saw he saw; he heard what no 
 
 man heard. 
 
 In answer he compelled the sea 
 
 To eager man to tell 
 
 The secret she had kept so well! 
 
 Left blood and guilt and tyranny behind 
 
 Sailing still West the hidden shore to find; 
 
 For all mankind that unstained scroll unfurled, 
 
 Where God might write anew the story of the 
 
 World " 
 
 — Edward Everett Hale. 
 
 ''How in God's name did Columbus get over 
 Is a pure wonder to me, I protest, 
 
 Cabot, and Ealeigh, too, that well-bred rover, 
 Frobisher, Dampier, Drake, and the rest. 
 
 Bad enough all the same. 
 
 For them that after came. 
 
 But, in great heaven's name, 
 
 How he should ever think 
 
 That on the other brink 
 
 Of this wild waste, terra firma should be 
 
 Is a pure wonder, I must say, to me. 
 
 How a man ever should hope to get thither, 
 E 'en if he knew that there was another side. 
 
 But to suppose he should come any whither, 
 Sailing straight on into chaos untried, 
 
 In spite of the motion 
 
 Across the whole ocean. 
 
 To stick to the notion 
 
 111 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 That in some nook or bend 
 
 Of a sea without end 
 
 He should find North and South America, 
 
 Was a pure madness, indeed, I must say, to me. 
 
 What if wise men had, as far back as Ptolemy, 
 Judged that the earth like an orange was 
 round, 
 
 None of them ever said, 'Come along, follow 
 me, 
 Sail to the West, and the East will be found.' 
 
 Many a day before 
 
 Ever they'd come ashore. 
 
 From the 'San Salvador,' 
 
 Sadder and wiser men 
 
 They'd have turned back again; 
 
 And that he did not, but did cross the sea, 
 
 Is a pure wonder, I must say, to me." 
 
 — Arthur Hugh Clough. 
 
 ' ' Who doubts has met defeat ere blows can fall ; 
 Who doubts must die with no palm in his hand ; 
 Who doubts shall never be of that high band 
 Which clearly answers 'Present!' to Death's 
 
 call. 
 For Faith is life, and, though a funeral pall 
 Veil our fair Hope, and on our promised land 
 A mist malignant hang, if Faith but stand 
 Among our ruins, we shall conquer all. 
 faithful soul, that knew no doubting low; 
 Faith incarnate, lit by Hope's strong flame, 
 
 112 
 
The Great Voyage. 
 
 And led by Faith's own cross to dare all ill 
 And find our world ! — but more than this we owe 
 To thy true heart ; thy pure and glorious name 
 Is one clear trumpet call to Faith and Will. ' ' 
 
 — Maurice Francis Egan. 
 
 ''From isle to island the ships flew on, 
 
 Like white birds on the main, 
 Till the master said, 'With my flags unfurled, 
 I have opened the gates of another world. 
 
 I will carry the news to Spain.' 
 
 It was seven months since at Palos town 
 
 Ere the noon of that summer's day. 
 The good ships sailed, with their flags unfurled, 
 In search of another and far-off world — 
 And again they are in the bay. ' ' 
 
 —8. H. M. Byers. 
 
 113 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE SMILE OF A KING : 
 
 BARCELONA. 
 
 "Back to my time, listener, turn with me. 
 And hear of islands all unknown to thee ! 
 Islands whereof the grand discovery 
 Chanced in this year of fourteen ninety-three; 
 One Christopher Colombo, whose resort 
 Was ever in the King Fernando 's court. 
 Bent himself still to rouse and stimulate 
 The king to swell the borders of his State." 
 
 — Giuliano Dati. 
 
 ' ' To the invincible king of the Spains : 
 
 Less wide to the world than the renown of 
 
 Spain, 
 To swell her triumps no new lands remain ! 
 Rejoice, Iberia! See thy fame increase! 
 Another world Columbus from the east 
 And the mid-ocean summons to thy way ! 
 Give thanks to him ; but loftier homage pay 
 To God Supreme, who gives its realms to thee ! 
 Greatest of monarchs, first of servants be." 
 
 — Leonardo de Carminis. 
 
 115 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 TO THE MOST INVINCIBLE KING OF SPAIN. 
 
 ' ' No region now can add to Spain's great deeds : 
 To such men all the world is yet too small. 
 An Orient land, found far beyond the waves, 
 Will add, great Betica, to thy renown. 
 Then to Columbus, the true finder, give 
 Due thanks ; but greater still to God on high, 
 Who makes new kingdoms for Himself and 
 
 thee: 
 Both firm and pious let thy conduct be." 
 
 — R. L. Corbaria. 
 
 ''The drear, chill gray of dawning day 
 
 Dies in a golden glow, 
 And merrily on the dancing sea 
 
 The rippling sunbeams flow; 
 And they glance and glint, in many a tint, 
 
 Over minaret and tower, 
 Where the lofty cross shows Paynim's loss 
 
 And the wane of Moslem power. 
 And waving high in the brightening sky. 
 Floating o'er town and sea. 
 And gleaming bright in the morning light, 
 Spain's flag flaunts haughtily." 
 
 Front-de-Boeuf. 
 
 ''That was a glorious day 
 
 That dawned on Barcelona. Banners filled 
 
 The thronging towers, the old bell rung, and 
 
 blast 
 Of lordly trumpets seemed to reach the sky 
 
 116 
 
The Smile of a King, 
 
 Cerulean. All Spain had gathered there, 
 And waited there his coming; Castilian 
 
 knights, 
 Gay cavaliers, hidalgos young, and e'en the old 
 Puissant grandees of far Aragon 
 With glittering mail, and waving plumes, and 
 
 all 
 The peasant multitude with bannerets 
 And charms and flowers. 
 
 Beneath pavilions 
 
 Of brocades of gold, the Court had met. 
 
 The dual crowns of Leon old and proud Castile 
 
 There waited him, the peasant mariner. 
 
 The trumpets waited 
 
 Near the open gates; the minstrels young and 
 
 fair 
 Upon the tapestried and arrased walls. 
 And everywhere from all the happy provinces 
 
 the wandering troubadours. 
 
 Afar was heard 
 
 A cry, a long acclaim. Afar was seen 
 
 A proud and stately steed with nodding plumes, 
 
 Bridled with gold, whose rider stately rode. 
 
 And still afar a long and sinuous train 
 
 Of silvery cavaliers. A shout arose. 
 
 And all the city, all the vales and hills. 
 
 With silver trumpets rung." 
 
 — HezeJciah Butterworth. 
 
 117 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 '^Wlio passes through the antique street 
 
 Worshiped by all around? 
 Whom do the thousand voices greet 
 
 That to the heavens resound? 
 Proud is the flash of his dark eye, 
 Yet tempered with humility; 
 The softened radiance, high yet meek, 
 That doth the Christian soul bespeak; 
 Proud is his heaving bosom's swell. 
 And proud his seat in velvet selle ; 
 His very courser paws the earth 
 As conscious of his master's worth." 
 
 — Front-de-Boeuf. 
 
 "A thousand trumpets ring within old Barce- 
 lona's walls, 
 
 A thousand gallant nobles throng in Barce- 
 lona's halls. 
 
 All met to gaze on him who wrought a path- 
 way for mankind, 
 
 Through seas as broad, to worlds as rich as 
 his triumphant mind; 
 
 And King and Queen will grace forsooth the 
 mariner's array. 
 
 The lonely seaman, scoffed and scorned in Pa- 
 
 los town one day, 
 He comes, he comes! The gates swing wide, 
 
 and through the streets advance 
 His cavalcade in proud parade, with plume 
 
 and pennoned lance, 
 
 118 
 
The Smile of a King. 
 
 And natives of those new-found worlds, and 
 
 treasures all untold — 
 And in their midst the Admiral, his charger 
 
 trapped with gold; 
 
 And all with joy are wild, and blithe the glad- 
 some clarions swell, 
 
 And dames and princes press to greet, and loud 
 the myriads yell. 
 
 They cheer, that mob, they wildly cheer — Co- 
 lumbus checks his rein. 
 
 And bends him to the beauteous dames and 
 cavaliers of Spain." 
 
 ''He came, the Genoese, 
 
 With reverent look and calm and lofty mien, 
 
 And saw the wondering eyes and heard the 
 
 cries 
 And trumpet peals, as one who followed still 
 Some Guide unseen. 
 
 Before his steed 
 
 Crowned Indians marched with lowly faces, 
 And wondered at the new world that they saw ; 
 Gay parrots shouted from their gold-bound 
 
 arms, 
 And from their crests swept airy plumes. 
 
 The sun 
 
 Shone full in splendor on the scene, and here 
 The old and new world met. But — 
 Hark! the heralds! 
 
 119 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 How they thrill all hearts and fill all eyes with 
 
 tears ! 
 The very air seems throbbing with delight; 
 Hark! hark! they cry, in chorus all they cry: 
 ^A Castilla y a Leon, a Castilla y a Leon, 
 Nuevo mundo dio Colon!' 
 
 Every heart now beats with his, 
 The stately rider on whose calm face shines 
 A heaven-born inspiration. Still the shout: 
 'Nuevo mundo dio Colon!' how it rings! 
 From wall to wall, from knights and cavaliers. 
 And from the multitudinous throngs, 
 A mighty chorus of the vales and hills! 
 'A Castilla y a Leon!' " 
 
 — Hezehiah Butterworth. 
 
 ^'And now his armed heel loud rings 
 Through a high, carved hall. 
 Where blazoned shields of queens and kings 
 Hang fluttering on the wall. 
 Around, the noblest of the land 
 In deepest awe uncovered stand: 
 Princes whose proud sires had well 
 Upheld the cross with Charles Martel; 
 And knights whose scutcheons flashed amid 
 The fiercest fight where blazed the Cid; 
 Soldiers who by their sovereign's side 
 Hurled back in blood the seething tide 
 Of Moslem war; and churchmen sage, 
 The men that smoothed that iron age. 
 
 120 
 
The Smile op a King. 
 
 And all alone 'mid tliat bright throng, 
 His voice arises clear and strong. 
 He stands before a throne; even now 
 His dark plume waves above his brow, 
 As he, of all the courtier train, 
 Rivaled the majesty of Spain. 
 Fortune like this, what cloud can mar? 
 He stands — a cloudless, risen star." 
 
 — Front-de-Boeuf. 
 
 ''He told his tale: 
 The untried deep, the green Sargosso Sea, 
 The varying compass, the affrighted crews. 
 The hymn they sung on every doubtful eve. 
 The sweet hymn to the Virgin. 
 
 How there came 
 The land birds singing, and the drifting weeds, 
 How broke the morn on fair San Salvador, 
 How the Te Deum on that isle was sung 
 And how the cross was lifted in the name 
 Of Leon and Castile." 
 
 — Hesekiah Butterworth. 
 
 "From the accomplished triumph here am I! 
 I have no triumph to report, my Queen; 
 No mere achievement; yet a truth so strange 
 That Indies sink to insignificance — 
 Though the significance were Indies' still! 
 I have come through some tempests of the soul 
 More vast than ocean-thunders; and have seen 
 In Storm-burst vision of vitality 
 
 121 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 New-born to earth but by the wreck of all 
 Which hitherto hath held us : you, my queen, 
 God and our empire all within that wreck 
 
 Concluded, victims of that visioning. 
 
 * * * 4 # 
 
 Nay, hearken me! 
 The seas have heard me, and I speak their 
 
 voice ! — 
 Here are these Indies newly at your feet 
 Laid for the glory of your faith and mine. 
 They shall be vast and great; and on their 
 
 wealth 
 Spain's resources be upbuilded many years." 
 
 — Reginald C. Rohhins. 
 
 "And then he turned 
 His face towards heaven. ' Queen ! Queen ! 
 There kingdoms wait the triumphs of the 
 cross!' 
 
 Then Isabella rose. 
 With face illumed: then overcome with joy 
 She sank upon her knees, and king and court 
 And nobles rose and knelt beside her, 
 And followed them the sobbing multitude; 
 
 Then came a burst of joy, a chorus grand, 
 
 And mighty antiphon 
 
 'We praise thee, Lord, and, Lord, acknowledge 
 
 thee, 
 And give thee glory! Holy! Holy! Holy!' '' 
 — Hezehiah Butterworth. 
 122 
 
The Smile of a King. 
 
 "I saw your face that morning in the crowd 
 At Barcelona — tho' you were not then 
 So bearded. Yes. The city decked herself 
 To meet me, roared my name; the king, the 
 
 queen, 
 Bade me be seated, speak, and tell them all 
 The story of my voyage, and while I spoke 
 The crowd's roar fell as at the 'Peace, be still!' 
 
 And when I ceased to speak, the king, the 
 
 queen. 
 Sank from their thrones, and melted into tears, 
 x\nd knelt, and lifted hand and heart and voice 
 In praise to God who led me thro' the waste; 
 And then the great 'Laudamus' rose to heav- 
 en " 
 
 — Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 "The twilight roses bloomed 
 In the far skies o'er Barcelona. 
 The gentle Indians came and stood before 
 The throne, and smiled the queen, and said, 
 'I see my gems again.' " 
 
 — Hezehiah Butterworth. 
 
 "Twelve months have passed, and the king 
 again 
 
 Holds levee with all his train. 
 And Columbus sits at the king's right hand. 
 And whether on sea or upon the land. 
 
 Is the greatest man in Spain. 
 
 123 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 And the queen has honored him most of all, 
 
 She has taken him by the hand, 
 'Don Christopher thou shalt be called away'; 
 And a golden cross on his heart there lay. 
 
 And over his breast a band. 
 
 And ships she gave, and a thousand men. 
 
 With nobles and knights in train; 
 And again the convent bells they rung, 
 And the praise of his name was on every 
 tongue. 
 As he sailed for the West again. 
 
 To the thousand isles and far-away 
 
 In the heats of the torrid zone, 
 To gardens fair as Hesperides, 
 To spice-grown forests, and scented seas. 
 
 Where no sails had ever blown. 
 
 And up and down by the New World's coast. 
 
 And over the western main, 
 With but the arms of his own true word. 
 He lifted the flag of the Blessed Lord 
 
 And the flag of the land of Spain. 
 
 And he gave them all to the king and queen, 
 
 And riches of things untold, 
 And never a ship that crossed the sea 
 But brought them tokens from fruit and tree 
 
 And gems from the land of gold. 
 
 124 
 
The Smile op a King. 
 
 Three times he had sailed to his new-found 
 world, 
 
 Five times he had crossed the main, 
 When walking once by the sea he heard, — 
 By secret letter or secret word, — 
 
 Of a murderous plot in Spain. 
 
 How that envious persons about the court 
 
 Had poisoned the mind of the king, 
 By many a letter of false report, 
 By base suspicion of evil sort. 
 And words of a traitorous sting. 
 
 And the king, half eager to hear the worst, — 
 
 For he never had been a friend, — 
 Believed it all, and he rued the hour 
 He gave to the master rank and power. 
 And resolved it should have an end. 
 
 So with cold pretense of the truth to hear, 
 
 And with heart that was false as base, 
 A ship was hurried across the main, 
 With Boabdilla, false knight of Spain, 
 To take the admiral's place. 
 
 that kings should ever unkingly be! 
 
 that men should ever forget! 
 For that fatal hour the false knight came. 
 To the king's disgrace and the great world's 
 shame. 
 
 The star of Columbus set. 
 
 125 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 They took the queen's cross from off his breast, 
 
 And chains they gave him instead; 
 And iron gyves on his wrists they put, 
 Vile fetters framed for each hand and foot, 
 ' 'Twere better they'd left him dead.' " 
 
 —8. H. M. Byers. 
 
 ''Once more 'tis the mid-hour of night; 
 
 Once more the storm beats high; 
 But now it hurls its fearful might 
 
 Along the cloud-frought sky 
 Which spans the drear Atlantic's waste 
 
 All whitened with wild foam. 
 That cleaves the air, as sea-birds haste 
 
 At even to their home. 
 But even there, where Nature's power 
 
 Laughs puny man to scorn, 
 Man lords it for his little hour 
 
 O'er fellowman forlorn. 
 Within a vessel's creaking sides 
 
 A chained prisoner sits, — 
 Drooped, weary, careless what betides 
 
 His tired soul, ere it flits 
 Far from a world where gratitude 
 Yields ever to the selfish brood 
 That gold and thirst for honor bring 
 To breast of peasant and of king. 
 What now avails the world he gave 
 To thankless Spain? It cannot save 
 From slavish chains its whilom lord, 
 
 126 
 
The Smile of a King. 
 
 Nor shield him from the hatred poured 
 'er his bowed head by those who late 
 But formed the puppets of his state." 
 
 Front-de-Boeuf. 
 
 ''For he who was first of the new-found world 
 
 And bravest upon the main, 
 Who had found the isles of the fabled gold, 
 And the far-off lands that his faith foretold 
 
 Was dragged like a felon to Spain. 
 
 But the whole world heard the clank of his 
 chains 
 
 When he landed in Cadiz bay. 
 And fearing the taunt and the curse and scoff. 
 The false king hurried to take them off 
 
 At the pier where the old ship lay." 
 
 —S. E. M. Byers. 
 
 127 
 
f^Lli^ ' 
 
 ,,iiin>iJ 
 
 Columbus in Cliaius 
 
 This beautiful statue by Valliiiitjana, the most noted of modern Spanish sculptors, is a 
 model m clay presented by Gabriel Millet to the Sociedad Economica of Havana in 
 IKSl. It pictures Columbus at the ase of (!U years, and represents the great navigator 
 in rliains. on his way to Spain. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IGNOMINY AND DEATH: 
 
 VALLALODID. 
 
 "Are these the honors they reserve for me, 
 Chains for the man who gave new worlds to 
 
 Spain ! 
 Eest here, my swelling heart! — kings, 
 
 queens, 
 Patrons of monsters and their progeny, 
 Authors of wrong, and slaves to fortune 
 
 merely ! 
 Why was I seated by my prince's side, 
 Honor 'd, caress 'd like some first peer of Spain? 
 Was it that I might fall most suddenly 
 From honor's summit to the sink of scandal? 
 ***** 
 
 Whoe 'er that art that shalt aspire to honor. 
 And on the strength and vigor of the mind 
 Vainly depending, court a monarch's favor. 
 Pointing the way to vast extended empire : — 
 First count your pay to be ingratitude. 
 Then chains and prisons, and disgrace like 
 
 mine! 
 Each wretched pilot now shall spread his sails 
 And treading in my footsteps, hail new worlds, 
 Which, but for me, had still been empty vis- 
 
 ^^^^•" —Philip Freneau. 
 
 129 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 ''And was it all for this — 
 To see his fondest hopes belied, 
 His name reviled, his every prayer denied, 
 Himself an outcast from his new-found home, 
 His glory's meed a traitor's shameful doom. 
 
 Such are the thoughts (might skill of mine pre- 
 sume 
 To read aright that sullen brow of gloom). 
 The musings such of anguish and unrest 
 That vex the captive Hero's fevered breast; 
 Pressed through the lips, though pride enchain 
 
 • the tongue. 
 Words burn, wherein to speak the spirit's 
 wrong : 
 
 'Darkly, Oh, darkly lowers the coming night; 
 From leaden skies fast fades the quivering 
 
 light 
 Whose faithless dawn but now allured me on 
 To glorious deeds which cannot be undone. 
 Woe worth my country, since the sons of Spain 
 Guerdon Columbus with the felon's chain. 
 Woe worth the unequal law that matched in 
 
 strife 
 The rival forces that divide our life. 
 Where love and hate alternate, good and ill, 
 Control the drift of man's ignoble will. 
 And what is man? Vile creature of a day. 
 Degenerate mass of animated clay. 
 Cursed with a soul that shall not, cannot die, 
 
 130 
 
Ignominy and Death, 
 
 Heir of a hopeless immortality? 
 
 Avaunt thee, Fiend. Wild pangs my bosom 
 
 tear, 
 Reels my sick brain all maddening with despair. 
 No kindly spell the agony to calm, 
 In heaven no ray, on earth no soothing balm. 
 
 To thee, Blest Maid, I turn. When dark and 
 
 drear 
 Fortune frowned on me, thou wast ever near. 
 With smile undimmed, with soft unclouded 
 
 brow. 
 Mother of God, thou wilt not leave me now? 
 And one there is, one mild angelic form. 
 Seen through the mist-wreaths of the gathering 
 
 storm ; 
 A child of earth, of more than queenly grace. 
 More than a queen, though sprung of queenly 
 
 race; 
 Her thought shall woo my angry tongue to bless 
 When it would curse men for their heartless- 
 
 ness.' 
 
 Dwells there a mystic spell, a power unseen 
 Shrined in the memory of that saintly queen? 
 Or deigns the Virgin list her suppliant 's prayer, 
 And lull to sleep the ravings of despair? 
 
 Lost in the dreams of earlier, happier hours 
 He roams once more through Genoa's myrtle 
 bowers ; 
 
 131 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Again lie sports beneath the cypress shade, 
 Treads the dark grove, or high-arched colon- 
 nade. 
 Or rifles Nature's store for each bright gem 
 That helps to wreathe his flowery diadem. 
 Or, prescient of the future, loves to guide 
 His mimic pinnace o'er the lashing tide, 
 Scanning even then with boyhood's eager 
 
 glance 
 The rolling Ocean's infinite expanse; 
 No ministrel lay, no music half so dear 
 As the loud breakers to his listening ear." 
 
 — Henry Nutcomhe Oxenham, M. A. 
 
 ''And next (0 sad and shameful sight!) ex- 
 posed 
 On the high deck of returning bark 
 (Returning from that land so lately found!) 
 A spectacle! those aged, honored limbs 
 Gyved like a felon's, while the hooting crowd 
 Sent curses in her wake. 
 
 But when arrived. 
 Again exalted, favored of the crown. 
 And courted by the noblest — ^who forgets. 
 With his gray hairs, uncovered, how he knelt 
 Before his royal mistress, (that great heart 
 Nor insult, nor disgrace, nor chains could move, 
 O'ercome with kindness,) weeping like a 
 child!" 
 
 — Henry Howard Brownell. 
 
 132 
 
Ignominy and Death. 
 
 "But little it helped, nor the king's false smile 
 
 As he sat in his robes of state ; 
 
 For wrong is wrong, if in hut or hall. 
 
 And the right were as well not done at all, 
 
 If done, alas! too late. 
 
 And little it helped if here and there 
 The mantle of favor stole 
 Across his shoulders to hide the stain 
 Of a broken heart or a broken chain — 
 They had burned too deep in his soul. 
 
 So the years crept by, and the cold neglect 
 Of kings that will come the while; — 
 Forever and ever 'tis still the same — 
 Short-lived 's the glory of him whose fame 
 Depends on a prince's smile. 
 
 And long he thought, could he see the queen. 
 Could he speak with her face to face, 
 She would know the truth and would be again 
 What once she was ere his hopes were slain; 
 And he sighed in his lonely place. 
 
 And on a day when he seemed forgot. 
 
 And darker the fates, and grim, 
 
 A letter came, 'twas the queen's command, 
 
 'Come straight to court,' in her own fair 
 
 hand, — 
 'And she would be true to him.' 
 
 133 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 And alas for man, and alas for queen, 
 
 And alas for hopes so sped ! 
 
 He had only come to the castle gate 
 
 When the warder said, 'It is late — too late. 
 
 For the queen she is lying dead.' 
 
 Gone is his kindly mistress — laid 
 
 To sleep among Spain's royal dead. 
 
 Dead is her smile, her beaming gaze 
 
 So full of hope when darkening days 
 
 Hung o'er the crown she wore so well; 
 
 Yea, dead is queenly Isabel! 
 
 And where are now the crowds that hung 
 
 Upon his steps when every tongue 
 
 Shouted his praise? The station high 
 
 Above all Spain's plumed chivalry? 
 
 The high commands ? Away ! each thought 
 
 With saddening memory so deep frought! 
 
 Call not pale flashes from afar 
 
 To mock with light a fallen star ! 
 
 The past is dead, the future read, — 
 
 Ay! see a broken, moss-grown stone, 
 
 And on it view a kingly meed 
 
 Of thanks to genius shown — 
 
 Ay ! trace o 'er that forgotten grave : — 
 
 'Another world Columbus gave 
 
 To Castile and Leon.' " 7^ ± j t> j 
 
 — Front-de-Boeuf. 
 
 ' *■ 'Tis midnight ; through the lozenge panes 
 
 Flashes a southern storm; 
 
 And the lightning flings its livid stains 
 
 134 
 
) 
 
 Ignominy and Death. 
 
 O'er a bowed and wearied form. 
 
 He stands, like a ship once stanch and stout 
 
 By billows too long opprest; 
 
 And a fiercer storm than whirls without 
 
 Tears through his heaving breast. 
 
 His hand is pressed on his aching brow, 
 
 And veils his eyes' dark light, 
 
 And a twinkling cresset's dim red glow, 
 
 When the lightning pales, doth sadly flow 
 
 'er locks where many a thread of snow 
 
 Tells of Time's troubled flight. 
 
 He stands — a fading, clouded star, 
 
 Half -hid in the rack of heaven's war 
 
 Or, like a vanquished warrior, one 
 
 Whose heart is crushed, whose hopes are gone 
 
 After many a gallant fight. 
 
 He turns and he paces the damp stone floor. 
 And his glance seeks the damper wall 
 Where the charts, o'er which he loved to pore, 
 Like arras rise and fall. 
 There is his heart's most cherished store, 
 There lie the fruits of his deepest lore, 
 And his lips, as he views them o 'er. 
 His withered life recall : 
 
 'And was it all a dream? 
 
 Is this the bitter waking? 
 
 And is hope's heavenly beam 
 
 For aye my soul forsaking? 
 
 I thought to see the cross unfurled 
 
 135 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Upon the Mils of a far-off world ! 
 
 To bear the faith of the Crucified 
 
 Far o'er the wild Atlantic's tide! 
 
 To see adored the Christian God 
 
 Where Christian foot hath never trod ! 
 
 Sure brighter dreams from heaven ne'er fell — 
 
 And I wake in this cold, dim cell ! 
 
 And were they, too, but dreams — 
 Those lands far in the West, 
 Where robed in sunset beams 
 The Seven Cities rest? 
 Far, far beyond the blue Azores, 
 I thought to press the ocean's shores ; 
 The heaving, restless main to span. 
 And give — and give — a world to man ! 
 A new-born world of vernal skies 
 Fresh with the breath of paradise — 
 A world that yet would place my name 
 The foremost on the scroll of fame. 
 And now I wake, poor, friendless, lone, 
 Amid these dripping walls of stone. 
 
 And was it but a dream 
 
 I left fair Italy? 
 
 To chase the churchyard gleam 
 
 Of false expectancy — 
 
 That light which, like the swamp's pale glare, 
 
 Lures but to darkness and despair? 
 
 To crush the visions youth built up? 
 
 Drink to its poisoned dregs the cup 
 
 136 
 
Ignominy and Death. 
 
 Of hope deferred and trust misplaced? 
 To feel heart shrink and body waste? 
 And still like drowning wretch to cry, 
 ' One more effort and I die ! ' " 
 
 — Front-de-Boeuf. 
 
 "Chains, my good lord: in your raised brows I 
 
 read 
 Some wonder at our chamber ornaments. 
 We brought this iron from our isles of gold. 
 Does the king know you deign to visit him 
 Whom once he rose from off his throne to greet 
 Before his people, like a brother king? 
 
 ■^ 4t ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Chains for the Admiral of the Ocean ! chains 
 For him who gave a new heaven, a new earth, 
 As holy John had prophesied of me, 
 Gave glory and more empire to the kings 
 Of Spain than all their battles ! chains for him 
 Who pushed his prows into the setting sun. 
 And made West East, and sailed the Dragon's 
 
 mouth. 
 And came upon the Mountain of the World, 
 And saw the rivers roll from Paradise ! 
 
 Chains! we are Admirals of the Ocean, we. 
 We and our sons forever. Ferdinand 
 Hath signed it and our holy Catholic queen ; 
 Of the Ocean — of the Indies — Admirals we — 
 Our title, which we never mean to yield. 
 Our guerdon not alone for what we did, 
 
 137 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 But our amends for what we might have done — 
 The vast occasion of our stronger life — 
 Eighteen long years of waste, seven in your 
 
 Spain, 
 Lost, showing courts and kings a truth the babe 
 Will suck in with his mother 's milk hereafter — 
 
 earth 
 
 A sphere. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Gold? I had brought your Princes gold 
 
 enough 
 If left alone ! Being but a Genoese, 
 I am handled worse than had I been a Moor, 
 And breached the belting wall of Cambalu, 
 And given the Great Khan's palaces to the 
 
 Moor, 
 Or clutch 'd the sacred crown of Prester 
 
 John, 
 And cast it to the Moor : but had I brought 
 From Solomon's now-recover'd Ophir all 
 The gold that Solomon's navies carried home. 
 Would that have gilded me? Blue blood of 
 
 Spain, — 
 Tho' quartering your own royal arms of 
 
 Spain — 
 I have not ; blue blood and black blood of Spain, 
 The noble and the convict of Castile, 
 Howl'd me from Hispaniola; for you know 
 The flies at home, that ever swarm about 
 And cloud the highest heads, and murmur 
 down 
 
 138 
 
Ignominy and Death. 
 
 Truth in the distance — these out-buzz 'd me 
 
 so 
 That even our prudent king, our righteous 
 
 queen — 
 I pray'd them being so calumniated 
 They would commission one of weight and 
 
 Avorth 
 To judge between my slandered self and me — 
 
 Fonseca my main enemy at their court, 
 They sent me out his tool, Bovadilla, one 
 As ignorant and impolitic as a beast — 
 Blockish irreverence, brainless breed — who 
 
 sacked 
 My dwelling, seized upon my papers, loosed 
 My captives, freed the rebels of the crown. 
 Sold the crown-farms for all but nothing, gave 
 
 All but free leave to w^ork the mines, 
 Drove me and my good brothers home in 
 
 chains, 
 And gathering ruthless gold — a single piece 
 Weighed nigh four thousand Castillanos — so 
 They tell me — weighed him down into the 
 
 abyss — 
 
 The hurricane of the latitude on him fell, 
 The seas of our discovering over-rolled 
 Him and his gold! the frailer caravel. 
 With what was mine, came happily to the shore. 
 There was the glimmering of God's hand! 
 
 139 
 
 \ 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 And God 
 Hath more than glimmered on me. my lord, 
 I swear to you I heard His voice between 
 The thunders in the black Veraguan nights : 
 * soul of little faith, slow to believe ! 
 Have I not been about thee from thy birth? 
 Given thee keys of the great Ocean sea 1 
 Set thee in light till Time shall be no more? 
 Is it I who have deceived thee — or the world? 
 Endure! thou hast done so well for men, that 
 
 men 
 Cry out against thee : was it otherwise 
 With Mine own Son?' 
 
 And more than once in days 
 Of doubt and cloud and storm, when drowning 
 
 hope 
 Sank all but out of sight, I heard His voice : 
 'Be not cast down. I lead thee by the hand. 
 Fear not. ' And I shall hear His voice again — 
 I know that He has led me all my life, 
 I am not yet too old to work His will — 
 His voice again. 
 
 Still for all that, my Lord, 
 I lying here, bed-ridden and alone. 
 Cast off, put by, scouted by court and king — 
 The first discoverer starves — his followers, all 
 Flower into fortunes — our world's way — and I, 
 Without roof that I can call mine own. 
 With scarce a coin to buy a meal withal, 
 
 140 
 
Ignominy and Death. 
 
 And seeing what a door for scoundrel scum 
 I opened to the West, thro' which the lust, 
 
 Villainy, violence, avarice, of your Spain 
 Poured in on all those happy naked isles — 
 Their kindly native princes slain or slaved, 
 
 Their wives and children Spanish concubines. 
 Their innocent hospitalities quenched in blood. 
 Some dead of hunger, some beneath the 
 
 scourge. 
 Some over-labored, some by their own hands,— 
 Yea, the dear mothers, crazing Nature, kill 
 Their babies at the breast, for hate of Spain— 
 
 Ah, God, the harmless people whom we found 
 In Hispaniola's island — paradise! 
 Who took us for the very gods from heaven. 
 And we have sent them very fiends from Hell ; 
 
 And I myself, myself not blameless, I 
 Could sometimes wish I had never led the way. 
 
 Only the ghost of our great Catholic Queen 
 Smiles on me, saying, 'Be thou comforted! 
 This creedless people will be brought to Christ 
 And own the holy governance of Rome. ' 
 
 But who could dream that we, who bore the 
 
 Cross 
 Thither were excommunicated there, 
 For curbing crimes that scandalized the Cross, 
 
 By him, the Catalonian Minorite, 
 Rome's Vicar in our Indies? Who believe 
 
 141 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 These hard memorials of our truth to Spain 
 Clung closer to us for a longer term 
 Than any friend of ours at Court? and yet 
 Pardon — too harsh, unjust. I am racked with 
 pains. 
 
 You see that I have hung them by my bed, 
 And I will have them buried in my grave. 
 Sir, in that flight of ages which are God's 
 Own voice to justify the dead — perchance 
 Spain, once the most chivalric race on earth, 
 Spain the mightiest, wealthiest realm on earth. 
 So made by me — may seek to unbury me. 
 To lay me in some shrine of this old Spain, 
 Or in that vaster Spain I leave to Spain. 
 Then some one standing by my grave will say, 
 'Behold the bones of Christopher Colon' — 
 *Ay, but the chains, what do they mean — the 
 chains 1 ' — 
 
 I sorrow for that kindly child of Spain 
 
 Who then will have to answer, 'These same 
 
 chains 
 Bound these same bones thro' the Atlantic sea, 
 Which he unchained for all the world to come.' 
 
 Queen of Heaven who seest the souls in Hell 
 And purgatory, I suffer all as much 
 As they do — for the moment. Stay, my son 
 Is here anon : my son will speak for me 
 Abler than I can in these spasms that grind 
 
 142 
 
Ignominy and Death. 
 
 Bone against bone. You will not. One last 
 word. 
 You move about the Court, I pray you tell 
 King Ferdinand who plays with me, that one. 
 Whole life has been no play with him and his 
 Plidalgos— shipwrecks, fevers, famines, fights, 
 Mutinies, treacheries— winked at and con- 
 doned — 
 That I am loyal to him till the death, 
 And ready— tho' our Holy Catholic Queen, 
 Who fain had pledged her jewels on my first 
 voyage, 
 
 Whose hope was mine to spread the Catholic 
 faith. 
 Who wept with me when I returned in chains. 
 Who sits beside the Blessed Virgin now. 
 To whom I send my prayer by night and day- 
 She is gone— but you will tell the king, that I, 
 Racked as I am with gout, with pains 
 Gain'd in the service of His Highness, yet 
 Am ready to sail forth on one last voyage, 
 And readier, if the king would hear, to lead 
 
 One last Crusade against the Saracen, 
 And save the Holy Sepulchre from thrall. 
 
 Going f I am old and slighted : you have 
 
 dared 
 Somewhat perhaps in coming ? My poor 
 
 thanks ! 
 I am but an alien and a Genoese." 
 
 — Alfred Tennyson. 
 143 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Columbus : 
 ''Diego, pain in this old body, pain 
 In this old heart : I feel the shadow, boy. 
 Stayed by the thought your uncle would bring 
 back 
 A message such as once became a queen, 
 The promised restitution of my honors 
 If not of my estates, — assurance, son. 
 Virtue yet holds her high place in the 
 earth ; — 
 Stayed by this thought, I say, I would not 
 yield 
 To fierce disease, mine old-time enemy. 
 But did defy him hourly, yet once more 
 Did vow to serve my country and my God. 
 
 'Tis vain ; I wait not for my brother now. 
 But abide my hour, here, at the charitable inn. 
 
 There is that I must speak before I go. 
 For in the last lift of the flame of life 
 My labors front me, standing plainly forth : 
 I have outlived my time, outliving her 
 I served. The royal pledge — what is it now 1 
 The lofty word of kings differs no whit 
 From breath of common men. I am forgot. 
 Ay, after years two-score of soldier's toil 
 In thick of dangers such as few men face. 
 Forgot, forgot." 
 Diego : 
 ''Good father, be at peace. 
 
 144 
 
Ignominy and Death. 
 
 Let us not talk of it. Your wisdom, worth, 
 Your loyal life, believe, 'tis all writ here. 
 So charactered no little word shall fade." 
 
 Columbus : 
 
 ' ' And one of all the world will think on me 
 As I have been, untaught of monarchs what 
 His father was ! My son, I love you well ; 
 Now let the will that has been first so long 
 Be leader still. Good boy, I must say on. 
 Diego, know even in my foolish youth 
 I had what of the earth and chary stars 
 Pavia knew. 
 
 Ay, there be more than tongues of land 
 
 and sea, 
 More than the noblest utterances of man. 
 A light gleamed, once, upon a distant shore, 
 A light struck from the deep, the solemn dark ; 
 'Twas then first spake the voice from out the 
 
 vast : — 
 'Blessed, blessed is he that brings the light 
 To them that knew it not.' 
 
 Again, 'mid winds 
 That made the sea a plaything, that did twist 
 The rock in his strong place, I heard it : — 
 
 'Peace! 
 Comfort thy sailor's soul. What did He more 
 For Moses, for His servant David? Lo, 
 Thou dost possess the gateway of the seas.' 
 
 145 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Remember this : despite the press of toil, 
 Your father fasted, prayed, slighted no rite 
 Men leave to quiet of the pious cell. 
 As he, that fierce old sailor of our blood 
 Who loved the sea and put him in her care 
 To sail against the infidel, and spread 
 Abroad our holy faith, — so have I served ; 
 Yet better, since with firm and reverent rule, 
 Mindful always of Him. 
 
 Therefore have signs been set for me, for 
 
 me 
 As for the holy men of old. The last — 
 Of that no ear has heard. You were scarce 
 
 gone 
 When suddenly my pain did cease, and straight 
 The old voice said, — 
 
 'Thou thinkest to have found 
 A ivestern ocean way far as to Ind ; 
 Through yonder spaces mark ivhat thou dost 
 
 see.' 
 
 My eyes grew fast upon the great new scene. 
 The gleaming land and them that walked there- 
 in. 
 So bright and sure this people stood, I cried, — 
 ' Oh, that I might increase my day, my hour. 
 My little hour, unto the summertide 
 Of God's long purpose ; when His patient 
 
 thought. 
 Run on to ripeness, shall have wrought the man 
 Well out — the blossom of the prophecies, 
 
 146 
 
Ignominy and Death. 
 
 The bloom and coronation of my kind!' 
 'Hail, masters, masters of the world!' I cried, 
 And all the pain and want here in the inn, 
 Cannot plot out that service. 
 
 I have helped 
 To weld the wide ends of the earth, to bind 
 Her scattered lands and peoples in the bond 
 Of our most holy church. And, lastly, now 
 Have I made you mine heir, enjoining on you 
 The disposition of my revenues — 
 (For I abate no jot my princely claim) ; 
 Have charged you to build altars, and to seek, 
 As faith should seek it, up and down the seas, 
 The rescue of the Holy Sepulchre ; 
 And bade you aid all them that are our kin, 
 And to a farthing to discharge my debts : 
 So shall I not fall dumb, but answer on, 
 To worst the cavil of a thankless world. 
 
 Boy, I have said ; 'tis for your filial heart. 
 My pains come harder. Close, bend closer — so. 
 The while I fix my fading thought on Him. 
 My sense begins to shut. The brave light 
 
 fades, 
 Fades. Farewell, my son ; farewell, good 
 
 earth ; 
 Farewell, all, all. Father, into Thy hand 
 I yield my soul. Now, with a sailor's trust. 
 For the last voyage. Stand to sea — to sea." 
 
 — John Vance Cheney. 
 147 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 "A battered, wrecked old man, 
 
 Thrown on this savage shore, far, far, from 
 
 home. 
 
 Pent by the sea and dark rebellious brows 
 
 My terminus near. 
 
 The clouds already closing in upon me, 
 
 The voyage balk'd, the course disputed, lost, 
 I yield my ships to Thee. . . . 
 Is it the Prophet's thought I speak, or am I 
 
 raving ? 
 What do I know of life f What of myself ? 
 I know not even my own work past or present. 
 Dim ever-shifting guesses of it spread before 
 
 me, 
 Of newer, better worlds, their mighty par- 
 turition 
 
 Mocking, perplexing me 
 
 And these things I see suddenly, what mean 
 
 they ?— 
 As if some miracle, same hand divine, unseal 'd 
 
 my eyes ; 
 Shadowy, vast shapes smile through the air 
 
 and sky, 
 And on the distant waves sail countless ships, 
 And anthems in new tongues I hear saluting 
 
 ^®' — Walt Whitman. 
 
 "One effort more, my altar this bleak sand ; 
 That Thou, God, my life hast lighted 
 With ray of light, steady, ineffable, vouched of 
 Thee,— 
 
 148 
 
Ignominy and Death. 
 
 Light rare, untellable, lighting the very light 
 Beyond all signs, descriptions, languages ; 
 For that, God, be it my latest word, here on 
 
 my knees. 
 Old, poor, paralyzed, I thank Thee. 
 
 My terminus near. 
 
 The clouds already closing in upon me. 
 The voyage balked, the course disputed, lost, 
 I yield my ships to Thee."_^^;^ Whitman. 
 
 *'Not yet — not all — last night a dream— 
 
 I sailed 
 On my first voyage, harassed by the frights 
 Of my first crew, their curses and their groans. 
 The great flame-banner borne by Teneriffe, 
 The compass, like an old friend false at last 
 In our most need, appall 'd them, and the wind 
 Still westward, and the weedy seas — at length 
 The landbird, and the branch with berries on it, 
 The carven staff — and last the light, the light 
 On Guanahani ! but I changed the name ; 
 San Salvador I called it; and the light 
 Grew as I gazed, and brought out a broad sky 
 Of dawning over — not those alien palms. 
 The marvel of that fair new nature — not 
 That Indian isle, but our most ancient East, 
 Moriah with Jerusalem ; and I saw 
 The glory of the Lord flash up, and beat 
 Thro' all the homely town from jasper, sap- 
 phire, 
 
 149 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Chalcedony^ emerald, sardonyx, sardius. 
 Chrysolite, beryl, topaz, chrysoprase, 
 Jacinth and amethyst — and those twelve gates, 
 Pearl — and I woke, and thought — death — I 
 
 shall die — 
 I am written in the Lamb's own Book of Life 
 To walk within the glory of the Lord 
 Sunless and moonless, utter light — but no !" 
 
 — Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 ' ' Hark ! do I hear again the roar 
 
 Of the tides by the Indies sweeping down ? 
 
 Or is it the surge from the viewless shore 
 
 That swells to bear me to my crown I 
 
 Life is hollow and cold and drear 
 
 With smiles that darken and hopes that flee j 
 
 And, far from its winds that faint and veer, 
 
 I am ready to sail the vaster sea ! 
 
 Lord, Thou knowest I love Thee best ; 
 And that scorning peril and toil and pain, 
 I held my way to the mystic West, 
 Glory for Thee and Thy church to gain. 
 And Thou didst lead me, only Thou, 
 Cheering my heart in cloud and calm, 
 Till the dawn my glad, victorious prow 
 Greeted Thine isles of bloom and balm. 
 
 And then, gracious, glorious Lord, 
 I saw Thy face, and all heaven came nigh 
 And my soul was lost in that rich reward, 
 
 150 
 
Ignominy and Death. 
 
 And ravished with hope of the bliss on high ; 
 So, I can meet the sovereign's frown — 
 My dear Queen gone — with a large disdain, 
 For the time will come when his chief renown 
 Will be that I sailed from his realm of Spain. 
 
 I have found new Lands — a World maybe, 
 Whose splendor will yet the Old outshine ; 
 And life and death are alike to me. 
 For earth will honor, and heaven is mine. 
 Is mine ! — What songs of sweet accord ! 
 What billows that nearer, gentler roll ! 
 Is mine ! — Into Thy hands, Lord, 
 Into Thy hands I give my soul ! ' ' 
 
 — Edna Dean Proctor. 
 
 **Hush ! o'er that bed of death. 
 Swayed by the failing breath, 
 A clank of chains ! 
 * Peace to the noble dead' — 
 With tears, by men is said ; 
 While angels sigh, 'God reigns!' " 
 
 — Eliza Allen Starr. 
 
 ''Cold-hearted Ferdinand his pillow prest, 
 Nor dreamed of those his mandates robbed of 
 
 rest. 
 Of him who gemmed his crown, who stretched 
 
 his reign 
 To realms that weighed the tenfold poise of 
 
 — Joel Marlow. 
 151 , ^ 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 "And the king forgot what the fair good queen 
 
 With her dying lips had said ; 
 
 And he who had given a world to Spain 
 
 Had never a roof for himself again, 
 
 And he wished that he, too, were dead. 
 
 Slow tolled the bells of old Seville town 
 At the noon of a summer's day ; 
 For up in the chamber of yonder inn, 
 Close by the street with its noise and din, 
 The heart of the New World lay. 
 
 Perhaps the king on his throne close by 
 No thought of the tolling gave ; 
 But over a world, far up and down, 
 They heard the bells of Seville town, 
 And they stood by an open grave. 
 
 And the Seville bells they are ringing still 
 Through the centuries far and dim ; 
 And though it is but the common lot 
 Of men to die, and be forgot. 
 They will ring forever for him. ' ' 
 
 —S. H. M. Byers. 
 
 "But thou, Christ-Bringer to the new half- 
 world, 
 Christ-Bearer too, didst, with the Christ, his 
 
 Cross 
 Thy portion find. Thy glory's earthly gloss 
 Scarce lasted till the home-bound sails were 
 furled. 
 
 152 
 
Ignominy and Death. 
 
 Ingratitude and envy swiftly hurled 
 
 Their torches at thy fame. But was it loss 
 
 They wrought thee? Nay, a merit purged of 
 
 dross. 
 For this their lurid flames so fiercely curled. 
 And when had passed the years that seemed so 
 
 long, 
 And came our Lady with a call to rest. 
 She led thy spirit through the sainted throng 
 To where her Son reigns Monarch of the Blest ; 
 And He bestowed, in meed of suffered wrong, 
 A richer realm than thy discovered "West." 
 
 — Benjamin D. Hill, C. P. 
 
 "He failed. He reached to grasp Hesperides, 
 To track the foot course of the sun, that flies 
 Toward some far-western couch, and watch its 
 
 rise, — 
 But fell on unknown sand-reefs, chains, dis- 
 ease. 
 
 He won. With splendid daring, from the 
 
 sea's 
 Hard, niggard fist he plucked the glittering 
 
 prize. 
 And gave a virgin world to Europe's eyes, 
 Where gold-dust choked the streams, and spice 
 
 the breeze. 
 
 He failed fulfillment of the task he planned, 
 And dropped a weary head on empty hand, 
 
 153 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 Unconscious of the vaster deed he'd done; 
 But royal legacy to Ferdinand 
 He left : a key to doorways gilt with sun, — 
 And proudest title of 'World-father' won!" 
 — George Washington Wright Houghton. 
 
 THE OLD AND THE NEW IN HISTORY 
 
 (The Old.) 
 ''Plead not in vain the archives long concealed, 
 When men were gods, and heroes lived whose 
 
 birth 
 Made land and sea and sky all common earth, 
 While Homer sang and oracles revealed : 
 The rust of ages scars the ancient shield, 
 And dusty bannered-halls have lost their 
 
 mirth — 
 The battle-ax and barbed spear their worth 
 In deadly combat on the tented field ; 
 
 Those fabled days so vaguely seen are gone, 
 Though battered walls and crumbling towers 
 
 may sigh 
 And dream of chivalry : yet comes the dawn 
 Of centuries which myth and mould defy. 
 Whose rays of promise, brighter than the sun, 
 Spread far and near when brave Columbus 
 
 won. 
 
 (The New.) 
 The nations marching from the mystic past. 
 Or through the dark uncertainty and gloom 
 Of fated epochs bearing on their doom, 
 
 154 
 
Ignominy and Death. 
 
 Behold afar — too far for hope to last, 
 Or feudal thrones to bind a people fast — 
 A world of beauty and of sweet perfume, 
 A land of golden hues and vernal bloom. 
 Spanned only by the arc of heaven so vast : 
 
 No worm-gnawed parchments need proclaim 
 the rights, 
 
 Where simple worth, spurred by the pulse of 
 youth. 
 
 Inspires a nation and restores to sight 
 
 The long-lost palms of Liberty and Truth. 
 
 Proud Realm of western grandeur and re- 
 nown ! 
 
 Thou seekest only good the New to crown." 
 
 — W. J. Crandall, 
 
 155 
 
Stiitui' of ('oluinl)Lis nt Santo I>oiniiigo, I)oininioan Kepu))lii 
 
 There is now on foot a movement to erect another nioniinienl in this Reiiublic lo the inimottal discoverer near 
 the spot where he made his home and left so many permanent records of himself. William E. Pulliam. 
 for a number of years receiver general of customs in the Dominican Republic, is leading the movement to 
 raise a fund of $500,000 by contributions from all the American Republics with which to build a suitable 
 monument in the form of a powerful beacon, to be known as the Columbus Light." 
 
 From the P.ui-Amnicin Bulletin. 
 
CHAPTER VIL 
 
 POSTHUMOUS GLORY: 
 THROUGHOUT THE WORLD. 
 
 The Bibliotek Columbina at Seville, founded 
 by the liberal donations of thousands of 
 volumes, by Columbus's son Ferdinand, is a 
 literary monument to his memory. Collected 
 there are his letters and writings and many of 
 the valuable manuscripts pertaining to his life 
 and works. 
 
 His tomb in the cathedral of Santo Domingo 
 where his remains repose is worthy of him, as 
 is the following poem worthy to be his epitaph : 
 
 ''Here, 'mid these paradises of the seas, 
 The roof beneath of this cathedral old. 
 That lifts its suppliant arms above the trees, 
 Each clasping in its hand a cross of gold, 
 Columbus sleeps — his crumbling tomb behold ! 
 By faith his soul rose eagle-winged and free. 
 And reached that Power whose wisdom never 
 
 fails. 
 Walked 'mid the kindred stars, and reverently 
 The light earth weighed in God's own golden 
 
 scales. 
 A man of passions like to men's was he. 
 
 157 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 He overcame them, and with hope and trust 
 Made strong his soul for highest destiny, 
 And following Christ, he walked upon the sea ; 
 The waves upheld him — what is here is dust. ' ' 
 — Hezehiah Butterworth. 
 
 The monuments erected to his honor are well- 
 nigh innumerable. What though his name has 
 not been given to this new land which he dis- 
 covered, — collectively, — we figuratively speak 
 of our part of it as "Columbia — the Gem of 
 the Ocean;" and the district set aside to con- 
 tain our national capital is named for him. 
 
 In that capital is his monument, glorious in 
 its splendor, and placed through the initiative 
 of the Knights who bear his name ; and the 
 bronze doors of the Capitol building portray 
 scenes from his life, while his statue is placed 
 in the portico. Geographically also is he hon- 
 ored — by England, in her British Columbia ; 
 in South America by Colombia, which possesses 
 a monument presented by the Empress Eu- 
 genie; and the erstwhile small town Colon is 
 now famous as being at the end of the Panama 
 Canal, *'the new way to India." 
 
 Other cities bear his name — Columbus, Ohio ; 
 Columbus, Georgia ; Columbus, Kentucky ; 
 Columbus City, Iowa; while counties, rivers, 
 colleges, museums, asteroids commemorate it. 
 Every spot upon which he touched in this New 
 World he marked with a Cross — 
 
 158 
 
TIic Mayiiiflcent Mausoleum of Marble and Kron/,e erected in tlie Cathedral at 
 
 Santo l)oininK<) to contain the ashes of the Illustrious 
 
 Discoverer of America 
 
Posthumous Glory. 
 
 ''Oh ! gladly I went forth, 
 
 Toil-worn and tired, yet joyous even then 
 
 To bear to realms unfound the name of Christ, 
 
 And set His cross there, sign of life in death. 
 
 So where the first mark of the New World 
 
 shone, 
 A twinkling light upon a shore unseen. 
 We raised the Cross — there on San Salvador 
 And all along Cipango and Cathay 
 And fertile Ornof ay we showed the cross ; 
 Then later by that three-hilled isle that rose 
 From out the waves, type of the Trinity ; 
 And on Paria, called the coast of pearls, 
 Where the sweet stream from Eden's Tree of 
 
 Life 
 Flowed down and mingled with the bitter 
 
 ^ ' — George Parsons Lathrop. 
 
 — and now practically every spot upon which he 
 touched in life is marked by a monument to his 
 honor. His first landing place which he named 
 San Salvador has been identified as Watling's 
 Island, and its memorial has been placed by 
 the Chicago Herald. 
 
 The Republic of Honduras marks the spot 
 where he first touched land in Central America, 
 — Honduras, the Veragua whence his posterity 
 derive their title, for his lineal descendants are 
 so named — Dukes of Veragua. 
 
 In Argentina, Peru, Mexico are there monu- 
 ments. 
 
 159 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 The old world also marks Ms footsteps at 
 Barcelona, where he came on his first return 
 to present his trophies to the sovereigns ; at 
 Madrid, in the Museum, is the New World rep- 
 resented by all manner of trophies and spec- 
 imens and pictures, one room being called the 
 Discoverer's room, while, as early as 1517, the 
 Portuguese honored him by naming the capital 
 of Ceylon — one of the Indies which he never 
 reached — Colombo; which name it retains to 
 this day. 
 
 What shall we say of the artists who por- 
 tray his life ? What more inspiring theme could 
 they choose? By them we have every phase 
 of it represented. 
 
 But high above all paintings ; all monuments 
 and buildings of stone or marble; high above 
 the strains of operas and of dramas and poems 
 of all the great thinkers; high above the influ- 
 ence of the books written, either to laud him 
 or to contemn him; high above all such mate- 
 rial manifestations, is the great tribute of honor 
 paid the memory of Columbus by the thousands 
 of noble, clean-souled men who have chosen him 
 as their model — for the *' highest form of flat- 
 tery is imitation ; ' ' and surely have the Knights 
 of Columbus shown sincere appreciation of the 
 zeal of their protonym. 
 
 The knights of old sallied forth to redress 
 wrong, to defend the helpless and to suc- 
 cor the oppressed. Glorious indeed was their 
 
 160 
 
Ooluinhus Monument at W'atling's Island t San Salvador; 
 
Posthumous Glory. 
 
 advent and magnificent their accoutrements: 
 helmet and charger and shield of spotless white. 
 But what are the habiliments of these Knights 
 who still hold aloft the banner of Faith which 
 he, Columbus, their great Admiral, came to 
 plant? They are the guardians of the sacred 
 Light — as in days of old were the Vestal Vir- 
 gins guardians of the sacred fire, lest the 
 hearthstones be without heat. 
 
 In this way are the Knights of Columbus ca- 
 parisoned : 
 
 * * * " loins girth about with truth, and hav- 
 ing on the breastplate of justice. 
 
 And * * * feet shod with the preparation of 
 the gospel of peace: 
 
 In all things taking the shield of faith * * * 
 and the helmet of salvation and the sword of 
 the spirit (which is the word of God)." 
 
 — St. Paul. 
 
 Their order — a fraternal, benevolent, social, 
 intellectual, and spiritual one — was founded in 
 New Haven, Connecticut, February 2, 1882, and 
 incorporated in the same year, the organizers 
 and incorporators being the Reverend M. J. 
 McGivney, the Reverend P. P. Lawler and eight 
 prominent Catholic laymen. 
 
 Its purpose is not for the advancement of 
 the members themselves only, but like the 
 Christ-Bearer, Columbus — it strives to bring 
 Him to those who know Him not, and for this 
 
 161 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 end has established Catholic libraries, lecture 
 systems and scholarships. 
 
 The Knights' efforts to have their hero 
 honored have given rise to Columbus Day, a 
 legal holiday in many states. Well may each 
 Knight say, as his great leader might have 
 said: 
 
 "And for success, I ask no more than this: 
 To bear unflinching witness to the truth. 
 All true whole men succeed ; for what is worth 
 Success' name, unless it be the thought, 
 The inward surety, to have carried out 
 A noble purpose to a noble end." 
 
 — James Russell Lowell. 
 
 THE CHRIST-BEARER. 
 
 "This was a man of all men else apart. 
 Yet so attempered in his cosmic mind 
 That he was more than brother to his kind 
 Whether of land or sea, of court or mart. 
 For he hath touched the universal heart. 
 He hath poured light upon the utter blind 
 And at his word bade new worlds unconfined 
 Into the wondering ken of nations start. 
 Fearless he followed westward his own star 
 Until he saw the shining Hebrides 
 Unto his 'raptured vision all unroll; 
 Yet hath he won a triumph greater far — 
 Whether in kingly court or raging seas — 
 He deep explored and conquered his own soul. 
 
 162 
 
'•^ '/- 
 
 
 SlaliH' ol' ( "t)limil)ii,s ill l,ini;i. Piiu 
 
Posthumous Glory. 
 
 Of such a mould was Socrates, the Greek, 
 Daring the unknown seas of human thought; 
 In such a mood keen Aristotle wrought. 
 Heeding the voice that bade him 'Seek, O 
 
 seek!' 
 In kindred tones we hear the Eoman speak 
 Who hurled the wiles of Cataline to naught: 
 All noble souls unterrified, unbought. 
 Gather in homage at his vessel's peak. 
 Nor doth he voice to them an unknown tongue, 
 For great deeds speak wherever man is great. 
 And giants know their brother giants' crest: 
 Wherever hearts are bold or songs are sung 
 The sons of Genius on the Sailor wait, 
 And hail him prophet of the mighty West. 
 
 Yea, he is master of earth's ancient kings. 
 Rich-laden with the trophies of old Time, 
 For they are not untainted by the slime 
 Of base ambitions from polluted springs; 
 While he, new herald of the dawn-break, flings 
 A flood of sunlight on the dust and grime 
 Of buried centuries : mists of age and clime 
 Fly fast before him on the morning's wings. 
 Nor doth he bear his glory in the boast 
 Of finder of the undiscovered lands 
 And bridger of the hidden ocean's span: 
 For unto every race and every coast 
 He comes, the true Christ-bearer— in his hands 
 The freedom and the brotherhood of man!" 
 
 ohn Jerome Rooney. 
 163 
 
Christopher Columbus. 
 
 "How sad it seems that he should pass from 
 
 earth, 
 Unknowing that his deed, so grandly wrought. 
 Had not to India's wealth new passage gained 
 But, better far, new lands had brought to view. 
 And crowned him great Discoverer of the age. 
 Then, too, methinks this Western Continent, 
 Which fills such goodly portion of earth's space. 
 Should wear the name its famed discoverer 
 
 bore. 
 And as Columbia, now the nations greet." ia. " 
 
 "What matter if ye now by other names 
 Have called these lands ; or if my name be swept 
 Far from the verge and drowned in rumor 
 
 false? 
 The Cross I planted there — the Cross remains ! 
 
 I, for my part, disdain at last received; 
 Sent home in chains, dishonored, outcast, poor. 
 Sweet poverty then, who first to this great work 
 Had consecrated me, gave me her crown 
 Of lowly blessing at the hour of death. 
 
 Yet, lost in grief, ' Heaven, pity me ! ' 
 I cried. 'I, who have wept for others long — 
 Weep, Earth, for me ! All ye who justice love 
 And truth — for me, Columbus — weep and pray ! ' 
 
 But on my sorrow sudden radiance burst. 
 The broken chain, hung on my death-room's 
 
 wall. 
 Was token of earth's bondman now set free. 
 
 164 
 
( 'oliiiiilius Miiniiiiieiit and P'duiitain, Wnsiiintitdii, 1 1. ( '. 
 
Posthumous Glory. 
 
 And lo! I saw that I who bore the Christ 
 Unto the New World's border — I, the same — 
 God in His mercy granted me to bear 
 His Holy Cross of grief through all my life. 
 
 Ye who inherit the New World I found, 
 With riches yet untold to touch or sight, 
 Beware lest poverty of soul should blast 
 YiOur earthly splendor. This New World is 
 
 yours ; 
 Yet dream not it is all. Still speak the clouds. 
 Though dimly, of the future and the past. 
 Still shine the stars with unforgetting gleam; 
 And God remembers. Yours is this New World ; 
 But the great world of Faith all still must seek 
 With trustful sail borne by a dauntless mast 
 Like mine. Nor wreck nor shoal, nor hate nor 
 
 fear. 
 Nor foul ingratitude, shall stay your course; 
 Nor chains unjust. Sail bravely forth, and 
 
 find 
 The New World here of Christ's truth realized! 
 
 So I, Columbus, the gray Admiral, speak 
 From out the furrows of unmeasured seas 
 That spread a seeming waste 'twixt you and 
 
 God. 
 For still I voyage on, with perfect hope, 
 To that pure world of heaven, forever new. 
 Where Time reigns not, but God forever 
 reigns. ' ' 
 
 — George Parsons Lathrop. 
 165 
 
Colunibil;- 
 
 Monument and Fountain (Detnil), 
 ^^'asllington. D. ('. 
 
LOURDES 
 
 AND THE 
 
 EUCHARISTIC CONGRESS 
 
LOURDES AND THE 
 EUCHARISTIC CONGRESS 
 
 EN ROUTE. 
 
 Although having undertaken the ocean voy- 
 age for recuperation and rest only, and having 
 foresworn all sight-seeing and even the mention 
 of Baedeker and notebook, still the blessed 
 opportunity of visiting Lourdes during the 
 Eucharistic Congress was not to be neglected. 
 
 Fifteen days of sky and water, interspersed 
 by stops and visits at the interesting Azores, at 
 Lisbon, and around Gibraltar to Barcelona, 
 attuned the spirit for the momentous event. 
 
 We had been at the great shrine of Our Lady 
 of the Indians, in their village outside Mexico 
 City, at Guadalupe, where she appeared to a 
 native and left her image impressed miracu- 
 lously upon his blanket — seen and venerated to 
 this day; we had visited St. Anne de Beaupre, 
 where the mementoes of the favors obtained 
 through the intercession of the good saint are 
 piled mountain high ; had visited the shrines of 
 the Apostles at Rome and had knelt at the feet 
 of the successor of their Prince, — the late re- 
 vered Sovereign Pontiff, Pope Pius X; had 
 witnessed the inspiring representation of the 
 Passion of Our Lord at Oberammergau— but 
 
 169 
 
LOURDES. 
 
 second to none of these events was the meet- 
 ing of the Eucharistic Congress at Lourdes. 
 
 Knowing the story of the Grotto, and upon 
 innumerable occasions reading of the wonderful 
 miracles which transpired there, it was quite 
 astonishing to ourselves how vague was our 
 knowledge of the town itself. 
 
 Non-Catholics feel a great interest in the 
 place owing to the unmentionable Zola's book, 
 and it is consoling to learn that many of them 
 are fair-minded enough to appreciate the beauty 
 of the setting of the tale, and to recognize and 
 to spurn the slime of the author's own person- 
 ality. 
 
 Have not read Zola's Lourdes, nor the very 
 excellent work by Henry Lasserre, nor even the 
 one by Monsignor Benson; in fact, have read 
 nothing intensive upon the subject, not even 
 Baedeker nor other guide books. When the 
 opportunity presents itself to do so, a vast fund 
 of information will doubtless be acquired, and 
 it will be astonishing to learn how much has 
 been written upon the subject — so much that 
 any more may prove a superfluity — but no 
 writer, heretofore, has had an opportunity of 
 witnessing there a meeting of the Eucharistic 
 Congress. 
 
 So to those who have not had that opportu- 
 nity, the simple story of the event as it appeared 
 to one without statistics may not be devoid of 
 interest. 
 
 170 
 
The Eucharistic Congress. 
 
 First, how to get there. Many tourists go 
 by way of Paris, as there is no change of cars, 
 but as our route was by way of the Mediter- 
 ranean, and as we could stop at Barcelona in 
 Spain, our map showed the distance from that 
 city to Lourdes to be about equal to its distance 
 from Marseilles in France; but being warned 
 that the Spanish railroads might prove to be 
 of the '^maiiana" style, we started from the 
 latter place. We imagined that the journey 
 might be of three or four hours' duration and 
 were considerably surprised to find that al- 
 though taking the Express at 10 o'clock A. M. 
 and making excellent connections, we did not 
 reach Lourdes until 11 :30 P. M. That is our 
 American way of stating the time — mil spare 
 you the French complications. 
 
 But what an enjoyable ride it was ! 
 
 Someone — was it Alice Gary? — must have 
 experienced a like pleasure when she wrote : 
 
 "Would you put your soul into sweetest tune 
 Take a railroad ride in the heart of June ; 
 Go without company, go without books, 
 Drink in the country with long, loving looks." 
 
 The latter part of her injunction is obviously 
 fulfilled in this case. 
 
 After settling down to enjoy comfortably the 
 ride, we learn that we must change cars at Tar- 
 ascon, which is but a short distance from 
 
 171 
 
LOURDES. 
 
 Avignon. Then again, after skirting the shores 
 of the Mediterranean, we change at Cette ; then 
 on through the omnipresent grape fields with 
 their picturesque peasants at work. How 
 familiar those peasants are to us — or is it their 
 blouses that are so! The veritable blouses their 
 forefathers wore on that memorable July day 
 so long ago, when they stormed the Bastile, But 
 these peasants are quite peaceful looking. Are 
 they conscious of the war cloud so soon to burst 
 upon them 1 We had been informed by a French 
 officer that war was imminent between France 
 and Germany; also that France's Republican 
 form of government having proved a failure, 
 a party, called the Orleanists, was clamoring 
 for the return of the king — the heir to the 
 throne being the Duke of Orleans. 
 
 However, at present, beautiful Southern 
 France lay smiling and basking in sunshine. 
 Now there is a chateau, and look, his lordship 
 of it comes cantering by booted and spurred 
 with riding whip and hound. 
 
 But are we dreaming, or is that a fairy castle 
 sprung into existence in imagination only? 
 Surely such a castle was never seen outside of 
 Romance. The station is Carcassonne, and do 
 we thus have thrust upon our vision with so 
 startling unexpectedness, the sight of all sights 
 in the Midi — nay, the sight that is longed for 
 and hungered for by many as was the view of 
 the Promised Land to the Israelites of old ! 
 
 172 
 
The Eucharistic Congress. 
 
 This plaint is re-echoed from more than one 
 heart : 
 
 CARCASSONNE. 
 
 << 'I'm growing old; I've sixty years; 
 
 I 've labored all my life in vain ; 
 In all that time of hopes and fears, 
 
 I've failed my dearest wish to gain, 
 I see full well that here below 
 
 Bliss unalloyed there is for none; 
 My prayer will ne'er fulfilment know — 
 
 I never have seen Carcassonne, 
 
 I never have seen Carcassonne! 
 
 You see the city from the hill; 
 
 It lies beyond the mountains blue. 
 And yet to reach it, one must still 
 
 Five long and weary leagues pursue. 
 And to return, as many more ! 
 
 Ah! had the vintage plenteous grown! 
 The grape withheld its plenteous store ! 
 
 I shall not look on Carcassonne, 
 
 I shall not look on Carcassonne ! 
 
 They tell me every day is there 
 
 Not more or less than Sunday gay; 
 
 In shining robes and garments fair. 
 The people walk upon their way. 
 
 One gazes there on castle walls 
 As grand as those of Babylon, 
 
 A bishop and two generals! 
 I do not know fair Carcassonne, 
 I do not know fair Carcassonne! 
 173 
 
LOURDES. 
 
 The vicar's right: he says that we 
 Are ever backward, weak and blind ; 
 
 He tells us, in his homily: 
 Ambition ruins all mankind! 
 
 Yet could I there two days have spent. 
 While yet the autumn sweetly shone, 
 
 Ah me! I might have died content. 
 When I had looked on Carcassonne, 
 When I had looked on Carcassonne! 
 
 Thy pardon, father, I beseech 
 
 In this my prayer, if I offend : 
 One something sees beyond his reach. 
 
 From childhood to his journey's end. 
 My wife, our little boy, Aignan, 
 
 Have travelled even to Narbonne; 
 My grandchild has seen Perpignan, 
 
 And I have not seen Carcassonne, 
 
 And I have not seen Carcassonne!' 
 
 So crooned, one day, close by Limoux, 
 
 A peasant, double-bent with age. 
 'Rise up, my friend,' said I, 'with you 
 
 I'll go upon this pilgrimage.' 
 We left next morning his abode, 
 
 But — Heaven forgive him — half way on 
 The old man died upon the road: 
 
 He never gazed on Carcassonne; 
 
 Each mortal has his Carcassonne!" 
 
 — From the French. 
 174 
 
The Eucharistic Congress. 
 
 Now we sight the Pyrenees and the engine 
 laborionsly winds up and in and among them. 
 
 We reached Toulouse as evening fell — a 
 busy railroad center and quite a large-sized 
 town, clinging to our memory as the ancient 
 stronghold of Count Raymond of Toulouse, the 
 propagandist of the notorious Albigensian 
 heresy. 
 
 After changing cars at Toulouse, night 
 settled down upon us and drew a veil over the 
 landscape ; and then came feelings of dread and 
 terror of entering so strange a place at so late 
 an hour. Might not the villagers be wrapt in 
 slumber and might not we be compelled to go 
 from door to door begging admittance? What 
 kind of place was Lourdes anyhow? A little 
 village like Oberammergau ? One can, during 
 five hours of darkness, conjure up an amazing 
 amount of horrors. But let me tell of the mar- 
 vel which dispelled our fears. 
 
 Nothing less than a blazing Cross which 
 shone high in the sky of blackness. Not more 
 marvelous to Constantine was the blazing em- 
 blem with the flaming letters — "In hoc Signo 
 Vincit" — was that sign of blessing to us. We 
 occasionally lost sight of it upon the turning 
 of the road, but ever found it again. Blessed 
 emblem, may It ever shine high and bright in 
 our firmament! 
 
 Before leaving Lourdes, we stood upon the 
 summit of the Pic du Jer, the highest peak 
 
 175 
 
LOURDES. 
 
 of the surrounding mountains, brought up its 
 3,000 feet by a funicular railroad, and placed at 
 the foot of that Cross, alive with electric wires, 
 the wild flowers we gathered in our ascent. 
 Poor little token of appreciation! 
 
 The following sonnet refers to another of 
 the peaks: 
 
 "LE PETIT GERS." 
 
 "How bleak it stands against the eastern sky, 
 
 Yon mountain gray. See, on its rocky crown — 
 
 Like sentinels of Heaven looking down — 
 
 Three lofty crosses lift their arms on high 
 
 In benediction on the passers-by, 
 
 And guard the entrance to that favored town 
 
 Whose holy Grotto rings with earth's renown 
 
 Since Mary came its shades to sanctify. 
 
 An image of our lady hidden lies 
 
 Beneath the crosses on that summit gray. 
 
 To mark a pilgrim's vow: with tearful eyes 
 
 And telling rosaries along the way. 
 
 He mounted barefoot there with fear and sighs. 
 
 In penance for a loved one gone astray. ' ' 
 
 — Rev. Theodore A. Metcalf. 
 
 THE EUCHARISTIC CONGRESS. 
 
 The next morning, upon waking and hasten- 
 ing to the window, we were delighted with the 
 prospect which met our gaze. 
 
 Directly opposite was the old chateau, now 
 the town property, which is stationed as a fort 
 
 176 
 
The Eucharistic Congress. 
 
 upon the steep mountain side, and overlooking 
 the hamlet of Lourdes. Over and beyond the 
 building shone the snow-capped Pyrenees, 
 dazzling in the morning sun. Looking down- 
 ward, for our hotel was literally ''Belvedere," 
 we swept the valley, and at the farther end, 
 opposite the chateau, was the basilica of Our 
 Lady, towards which thousands were already 
 wending their way. 
 
 ''A thousand banners float above thy aisles, 
 
 fair Basilica. Thy walls are set — 
 
 Like jewels in a regal coronet — 
 
 With countless offerings and marble tiles 
 
 Whose sculptured records mark the tears and 
 
 smiles 
 Of grateful hearts ; and like a parapet. 
 The soldier's sword and golden epaulet 
 Are reared against thy sacred peristyles. 
 What would they say, those pledges mute and 
 
 grave, 
 If living words their forms should animate? 
 A mighty chorus through thy lofty nave 
 Would rise and make its vault reverberate 
 With joyous echoes of the tuneful wave — 
 'Hail Mother dear, our Queen Immaculate.' " 
 
 — Rev. Theodore A. Metcalf. 
 
 Every balcony was gay with streamers, the 
 papal colors, and flowers. Banners galore pro- 
 claimed the town " a la Fiesta/' and pictures 
 
 177 
 
LOURDES. 
 
 of Our Lady and the Sacred Heart decorated 
 every doorway. 
 
 Entering- the amphitheater, or piazza of the 
 basilica, under an archway bearing good tid- 
 ings — Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini — 
 we reach the sacred precincts. 
 
 Obtaining a badge which every one, from the 
 papal legate to the humblest peasant, wore, we 
 are part of the Eucharistic Congress. 
 
 The meetings opened with a reception to his 
 Eminence, the Legate, July 22, and closed with 
 a torchlight procession on the evening of July 
 26. 
 
 So fraught with enthusiasm was each meet- 
 ing and so exuberant was the expression of 
 that enthusiasm, that every man, woman and 
 child in that vast concourse was, as it were, 
 charged with magnetism. 
 
 How specify the numerous momentous occa- 
 sions? How give adequate figures to express 
 the numbers attending? One might as w^ell try 
 to count the sands on the sea shore ! 
 
 Of the ecclesiastics attending, besides the 
 Legate, were nine Cardinals, one hundred and 
 sixty-eight Archbishops and Bishops, and eight 
 thousand Priests; and of the various nations 
 represented, the description in Holy Writ of 
 that memorable gathering on the first coming 
 of the Holy Ghost seems fit to enumerate them : 
 "Parthians, and Medes, and Elamites, and in- 
 habitants of Mesopotamia, Judea, and Cappa- 
 
 178 
 
The Eucharistic Congress. 
 
 docia, Pontus, and Asia, Phrygia, and Pam- 
 phylia, Egypt, and the parts of Libya about 
 Cyrene, and strangers of Rome, Jews also, and 
 proselj^tes, Cretes, and Arabians: we have 
 heard them speak in our own tongues the won- 
 derful works of God." 
 
 The Latin tongue, the language of Holy 
 Church, was used entirely in the Sacerdotal 
 meetings. French was used in the general 
 meeting held in the V Esplanade of the Rosaire. 
 There was a German section, and sections for 
 other European nations, besides reunions of 
 the different religious societies, and of the men, 
 the women and the children. 
 
 The English speaking section was presided 
 over by typical Englishmen, who apparently 
 were not congenial to the large Irish delegation, 
 for they speedily and strenuously set to work 
 to open up a distinctly Irish section which 
 proved an inspiration. 
 
 Rallying around their banner came a Scottish 
 delegation, and some few Americans who under- 
 stood the situation, as there was no American 
 section, nor were the Americans organized in 
 any way, though doubtless many of the clergy 
 and laity attended. 
 
 The American flag was prominent in the 
 parades among the flags of all nations, but I 
 imagine that it was the personal property of 
 Mr. McGrane of New York, as he was present 
 with a party of his tourists. 
 
 179 
 
LOURDES. 
 
 Seeing the dear old Stars and Stripes upon 
 the campus, we rallied around it, only to be 
 snapped up by the Pathe ''movies." 
 
 His Lordship, Cardinal Logue, Archbishop 
 of Armagh, graced the Irish section with his 
 presence, and spoke feelingly of the troublous 
 state of affairs at home. Alas, how overwhelm- 
 ing that cloudburst ! 
 
 Cardinal Farley, our own representative, 
 also lent his presence and congratulated the 
 Irish upon their spiritual head and spoke with 
 friendly reminiscence of the visit paid by him 
 to America. He also mentioned an incident of 
 his own visit to Ireland many years ago, when 
 the people were just beginning to enjoy a little 
 of emancipation. Noticing their improved bear- 
 ing and how erect they held their heads, some 
 of the clergy evinced a disposition to fear that 
 with their freedom they might waver in their 
 unswerving allegiance to Holy Mother, the 
 Church. 
 
 He had reassured them upon that score, cit- 
 ing the Americans as an instance; for nowhere 
 on the face of the earth did Catholics enjoy 
 greater freedom, and nowhere were they more 
 faithful to the Church. 
 
 His Eminence then humorously promised 
 them that should the Catholics in Ireland cease 
 to uphold their holy faith, plenty of their 
 descendants in America would be able and 
 willing to go over as missionaries to convert 
 them. ^go 
 
The Eucharistic Congress. 
 
 The humor of the remark may not have been 
 appreciated by the brilliant young Irish clergy 
 present, as all need of spiritual assistance from 
 America was vigorously disclaimed. 
 
 A clergyman of the diocese of Cork spoke 
 about Little Nellie of the Holy God, the child 
 of four years of age who longed so fervently 
 for the Blessed Sacrament that she was allowed 
 to partake of the Sacred Food — and that some 
 few years before the decree of the late Holy 
 Father in regard to child communicants. She 
 is like to be made the patron of first communi- 
 cants, and is soon to be beatified. The Ave 
 Maria, our American Catholic magazine, had 
 an article upon the subject some short time 
 since. 
 
 A very interesting speaker at the same sec- 
 tion was the Bishop of Burmah, coal black, who 
 spoke English charmingly, and whose address 
 was most enjoyable. Should like to state the 
 gist of his remarks, but alas ! cannot reproduce 
 his benign personality: 
 
 ''It is a pleasure to address the Irish people, 
 for they have much in common with us of India. 
 We are both under the same government; also 
 the Irish people have a great honor for St. 
 Patrick. We in India also honor him, and over 
 every Catholic doorway is his statue; for St. 
 Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland, and 
 we also pray our people may not be bitten by 
 those pests of India. 
 
 181 
 
LOURDES. 
 
 There are also snakes of another type in 
 India which we pray St. Patrick to free us from, 
 and they are the false teachers who come and 
 try to sow discord and iniquitous doctrine 
 among our people. Now, my dear good Iri&h 
 people, pray to St. Patrick that the snakes will 
 not bite our people, but rather that they will 
 bite those false prophets." 
 
 Before the Congress closed. His Eminence, 
 Cardinal Granito Pignatelli di Belmonte, the 
 Papal Legate, honored the section by his pres- 
 ence and by a short address. 
 
 Should like to make some report of the meet- 
 ings of the other sections, but not being ubiqui- 
 tous, cannot, and this meager account of the 
 proceedings of the Congress may not reflect in 
 the slightest w^ay, the brilliance of the event. 
 
 Those who attended the other sections, and 
 particularly the clergy who attended the Re- 
 unions Sacerdotales, may consider the affair 
 not stated at all ; for by the enthusiastic shouts 
 and cheers and hurrahs which issued from their 
 section, wonderful things must have transpired 
 there, which they will doubtless be pleased to 
 pass along. 
 
 Must not fail to mention a very elaborate 
 ceremony which was performed in the Church 
 of the Rosary by the Patriarch of Jerusalem — 
 the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass according to 
 the Maronite rite. It apparently was of keen 
 interest to ecclesiastics, for so intense was their 
 
 182 
 
The Eucharistic Congress. 
 
 absorption in following the ceremonies, that 
 many stood upon chairs and craned their necks 
 for better views. 
 
 THE GROTTO. 
 
 ''Upon the hillside — looking o'er the stream 
 That kisses Mary's Grotto, as it flows 
 Beside the rock where creeping ivy grows 
 And hanging blossoms cling to every seam — 
 I stood at night to watch the golden gleam 
 Of countless tapers, whose reflection throws 
 A blushing halo, like a budding rose. 
 Throughout that Grotto, making it a dream 
 Of blissful paradise; and spotless white 
 Our Lady's image smiling in her shrine. 
 Seemed 'more immaculate' against the night 
 Which clothed in shadow each sweet eglantine ; 
 E 'en as her loveliness outshines the light 
 Of earthly beauty by its grace divine." 
 
 VOIS TES ENFANTS A GENOUX. 
 
 ' ' And while entranced I gazed upon the view, 
 There came the melody of joyful song 
 That rose and fell in cadence sweet and strong 
 And sent its echoes all the valley through, 
 Kepeating, 'Vois tes enfants a genoux/ 
 The chanted anthem of a kneeling throng 
 Of Mary's children, on the banks along 
 The rushing Gave. Methought our Lady, too, 
 Leaned forward at that sound of music sweet — 
 
 183 
 
LOURDES. 
 
 As once before when Bernadette was there 
 The ringing Angelus she bent to greet 
 With all its memories of 'Aves' fair — 
 And falling prostrate at our Lady's feet 
 My heart went up to her in fervent prayer." 
 
 — Rev. Theodore A. Metcalf. 
 
 Some time was spent at the Grotto, at the 
 wonderful Stations of the Cross upon the hill- 
 side and in the basilica, where Perpetual Ador- 
 ation of the Blessed Sacrament was held. 
 
 From hundreds of altars, the Holy Sacrifice 
 of the Mass was being offered up continuously 
 from midnight until 12 o'clock noon each day, 
 and what, with the procession of the Blessed 
 Sacrament, which took place every afternoon 
 and the torchlight processions each evening, 
 when thousands upon thousands bearing flam- 
 beaus and chanting these strains which rolled 
 and swelled up over the mountain heights and 
 wound in and out along the valley — what Pil- 
 grims' Chorus from Tannhauser can compare 
 with it: — 
 
 ''Christum regem adoremus 
 Dominantem gentihus — 
 Qid se manducant'ibus 
 Bat spiritus pinguedinem — 
 Christum regem adoremus 
 Dominantem gentihus." 
 
 St. Anne's Day, 1914. 
 
 184 
 
MEXICO 
 
SOME MEMORIES OF MEXICO 
 IN THE YEAR 1905 
 
 MEXICO, THE OLD AND THE NEW. 
 
 The first preliminary of a trip to Mexico is 
 a brushing up of the past, for it is from the 
 past that the present borrows its interest. 
 
 We see in spirit the dusky savages meander- 
 ing through the valley where towers the City 
 of Mexico — the valley so high, so fair, so fertile 
 — the far-famed Valley of Anahuac. 
 
 This is now historic Mexico ; the narrow strip 
 of lowlands along the coast — the terra calientes 
 — claiming no history, except, of course, that 
 Vera Cruz, 'Hhe true Cross," was founded by 
 Cortez. That is tropical Mexico, and we shall 
 have a glimpse merely of its luxuriance. 
 
 Besides the many tropical products that are 
 familiar to us, we here find some that are dis- 
 tinctly Mexican: Chirimoyas, sapodillas, gua- 
 vas, etc. 
 
 But in our valley, 8,000 feet above the sea, 
 our ''highlands of the tropics," our ''Egypt 
 of America," our "old New World," the "land 
 of the cacti," the "Venice of America," the 
 "semi - barbarous Spain," the "land of 
 manana ' ' — shall we revel in the unfamiliar. 
 
 Those mystic savages that in prehistoric 
 times meandered through this valley we call 
 Toltecs. 
 
 187 
 
Mexico. 
 
 They were builders — such great builders that 
 their name was its synonym. In our country 
 we call them ''mound builders." 
 
 There, one of their mounds — Cholula — a pyr- 
 amid greater in extent than those of Egypt, 
 stands to this day as the foundation stones of 
 a temple to God, our God, the God of all crea- 
 tures, and not to Quetzelcoatl, their god of the 
 air, as they had intended. 
 
 There are other pyramids and ruins, but their 
 origin is disputed, as is that of Cholula: the 
 pyramids of the Sun, of the Moon, the Ruins of 
 Mitla, etc. 
 
 It was Cortez who overthrew the pagan 
 temple of Cholula and after the terrible massa- 
 cre of the Cholulans, erected the first chapel 
 on this spot. 
 
 By that time the Toltecs had disappeared 
 from the valley, and the Aztecs had succeeded 
 them. 
 
 Prescott, in his history of the Aztec Conquest 
 by Cortez, required three volumes to tell the 
 story — and a fascinating story it is — more in- 
 teresting and thrilling than romance. 
 
 General Lew Wallace presents it as a ro- 
 mance in his Fair God. 
 
 Cortez had his Boswell in the person of 
 Bernal Diaz, the Spanish historian, who ac- 
 companied him on his voyage of conquest. 
 
 It is due to him we have such glowing ac- 
 counts of the event. 
 
 188 
 
Mexico. 
 
 Three hundred years later, von Humboldt, 
 the great German naturalist, visited Mexico, 
 and he not only did not with his cold science 
 dissipate the glamour of enthusiasm, but even 
 added to the interest of this marvelous region. 
 
 We look in vain for the "diadem of lakes." 
 They are almost things of the past. After caus- 
 ing much havoc and destruction by numerous 
 overflows of the City of Mexico, situated in the 
 lowest part of the valley, they are now greatly 
 reduced by the Mexican system of drainage. 
 
 Lake Xochimilio, no longer worthy the name 
 of lake, supplies, however, the water for the 
 famous La Viga Canal. 
 
 This is the great highway for the produce 
 and flowers from the floating gardens — the 
 chinampas — to the City of Mexico. 
 
 Here we see the same canoes that Cortez saw 
 and the same "gondolier". 
 
 He propels his canoes along the self-same 
 way pushing with a long pole. 
 
 There are numerous Indian villages on each 
 side of the canal, but the ride of sixteen miles 
 is not particularly interesting. 
 
 On the royal hill of Chapultepec is still the 
 residence of the Mexican monarchs, now called 
 presidents. 
 
 The Spanish conquerors dwelt there, but 
 Maximilian, during his short dream empire, 
 did most to adorn it. 
 
 189 
 
Mexico. 
 
 Many of the rooms still are preserved as left 
 by him and Carlotta. 
 
 They are shown to visitors as are also the 
 president's portion when not occupied. 
 
 Back of the castle and closely adjoining it 
 is the National Military Academy. 
 
 A most courteous guide, one of the cadets, 
 and English-speaking, too, showed us the way. 
 
 He pointed out the monument raised to the 
 boys of the school who heroically tried to de- 
 fend the hill at the time of our war with Mex- 
 ico. 
 
 In the highest place of honor over the en- 
 trance arch is a bust of Napoleon Bonaparte. 
 
 It puzzled me as I thought of the French occu- 
 pation of Mexico as most inimical. 
 
 ''I thought you did not like the French," I 
 said to the guide, pointing to the bust. 
 
 ''The French? Oh, we do not honor Napoleon 
 as French. We think only of his great military 
 genius. This is a Military Academy, hence 
 we honor him." 
 
 The grounds are spacious and the ''hill of 
 the grasshopper" was literally covered with 
 flowers, mostly geraniums. 
 
 This was at Christmas time, and nearly 9,000 
 feet above the sea ! 
 
 The drive from Chapultepec to the city, two 
 miles long, was also laid out by Maximilian. It 
 was the Paseo Imperial, but is now called Paseo 
 
 190 
 
Mexico. 
 
 de la Keforma, and it is ornamented on each 
 side by monuments to Mexican heroes. 
 
 On one end stands the colossal bronze eques- 
 trian statue of Charles IV, claimed to be the 
 largest statue molded in one piece on the con- 
 tinent. 
 
 Here is another of the monuments to Guate- 
 motzin, or Guatemoc, the nephew of Monte- 
 zuma, the vanquished. 
 
 He was placed at the head of the people and 
 made a heroic rally — but in vain, as he was 
 captured and finally hanged by Cortez. This 
 monument is a glowing tribute to his efforts 
 as he is styled, ''The defender of his nation," 
 on the base — elaborately carved and depicting 
 in relief scenes from his life. 
 
 It is almost a pilgrimage to the Arbor Noche 
 Trieste, the "tree of the sorrowful night," for 
 under it Cortez wept when expelled from the 
 city by a rallying of the foes. 
 
 It is appropriately a cypress, and as we in 
 our zeal for souvenirs pluck a twig, the ever 
 polite guard doffs his cap and couteously in- 
 forms us, "No ay permisso" — after it is done. 
 
 Of course, we can't replace the twig on the 
 tree and have to take it home. 
 
 There is Cortez 's house at Coyoacan, which 
 is a short distance on the trolley from the City 
 of Mexico. 
 
 There is another house of Cortez at Cuerna- 
 vaca, which is used now as the State Capitol. 
 
 191 
 
Mexico. 
 
 Cuernavaca is the artists' Mecca as it 
 abounds in many most enchanting views. 
 
 An original picture of Cortez is in the Na- 
 tional Museum. He had donated it to Jesus 
 Hospital, which he founded in 1527. 
 
 There also is the Aztec Calendar Stone and 
 many gods, among whom is Quetzalcoatl. Here 
 also is the sacrificial stone in the hollowed cen- 
 ter of which we see the groove — the trough — 
 towards the edge, through which the blood of 
 the victims flowed so copiously, for thousands 
 and thousands each year were offered up in 
 sacrifice, their hearts plucked out and held 
 aloft — still palpitating — to their horrible god 
 of war — Huitzilopochtli ! And that wasn't the 
 worst, for after the sacrifice came the feast — 
 the flesh of the victims served and relished as 
 any dainty was relished by Epicurus of old 
 Greece. It is well to recall this circumstance, 
 else had we too great pity for the conquered. 
 
 And what did the conquerors accomplish? 
 
 For three hundred years — we are told by his- 
 torians, so called — the Spaniards oppressed the 
 natives and kept them ignorant and supersti- 
 tious. They were tyrannical, avaricious, as 
 were the viceroys, Spaniards all. 
 
 What do we find in Mexico as a remnant of 
 their rule? What shall we judge them by? 
 
 We see churches — grand, sublime, monu- 
 ments to their faith and devotion, adorned with 
 art, jewels, treasures untold. 
 
 192 
 
Mexico. 
 
 The Cathedral of Mexico City is well nigh 
 unsurpassed by any in the world, but how can 
 we describe it I We can give its dimensions — 
 length, breadth and height. We can give its 
 history, its cost, but how can we express the 
 grandeur and beauty of its interior, dismantled 
 as it is by numerous despoliations? 
 
 How can we describe its fourteen lateral 
 chapels, its main altar, its Chapel of Expiation, 
 each enriched by lavish donations of the many 
 viceroys and rulers'? 
 
 Here we see in Maximilian's Chapel an ala- 
 baster fount, which had been donated in 1755 ; 
 also Maximilian's confessional, elaborately 
 hand-carved massive mahogany, and in Car- 
 lotta's Chapel, a statue of our Blessed Lady 
 in pure ivory, donated by Napoleon III. 
 
 In Mme. Diaz's Chapel is a Guido Reni, and 
 here is a Madonna by Van Dyke, donated by 
 Maximilian, and here a Velasquez, in the Chapel 
 of Santa Anna and here are a Holy Family 
 by Rubens, a Titian and a Michaelangelo. 
 
 We are told Mr. Rockefeller offered $400,000 
 for a Murilla's Assumption, donated by the 
 second viceroy from Spain. 
 
 The chandelier in the choir, solid brass, was 
 donated by the Empress Iturbide, as was also 
 the clock. 
 
 The altar rail, a composite of copper, gold 
 and silver, and said to weigh 50,000 pounds, 
 came from Japan, the choir rail from China 
 
 193 
 
Mexico. 
 
 and the alabaster pulpit from Milan. An offer 
 was made to replace the rail by one of solid 
 silver, but it was rejected. 
 
 The chandeliers are of gold leaf, solid gold 
 and cut glass and the figures and statues are 
 of pure onyx from Puebla, and filigree. 
 
 All the viceroys are buried here; also the 
 Emperor Iturbide. 
 
 Here is a reliquary of the first Archbishop 
 of Mexico and here is Hidalgo's skull, and the 
 table on which the Archbishop signed the ver- 
 ification of the apparition of Our Lady of Guad- 
 alupe. 
 
 On being informed that His Grace, the Arch- 
 bishop of Mexico, was to confirm two hundred 
 Indians in the Cathedral Christmas afternoon, 
 we were desirous of being present at the cere- 
 mony. 
 
 On entering the church we were greeted by 
 wails and cries in various sharps and flats 
 w^hich proceeded from the two hundred throats 
 of two hundred Indian infants ! 
 
 "Oh, pshaw! a christening!" we exclaimed, 
 but sure enough there was the Archbishop in 
 his pontifical robes, administering the sacra- 
 ment of confirmation. 
 
 Drawing nearer, we were elated at the benign 
 condescension of the venerable prelate, for 
 noticing us, he smiled and held out his hand. 
 
 He saw we were strangers, and this was his 
 welcome to Mexico, the land of courtesy! 
 
 194 
 
Mexico. 
 
 But alack aday! In kneeling to kiss his ring, 
 there were no expected altar steps, and down 
 we both tumbled on all fours at his feet ! 
 
 He was at first startled, but finally yielded 
 to the general smile that passed around the 
 assemblage and stretching forth his hand he 
 assisted us to arise saying to each, "Dios te 
 salve!" (''God save you.") 
 
 We have a grateful remembrance of him and 
 were interested when informed afterwards that 
 he is a native Indian. 
 
 The Archbishop and Diaz, heads of Church 
 and State, native Indians! 
 
 And by inquiring why the infants were being 
 confirmed, we learned that it is the desire of 
 all good Mexicans, that their children be born, 
 baptised and confirmed on the same day! 
 
 THE CATHEDEAL TOWERS. 
 
 There is another fall — one which I didn't 
 have — and that's from the Cathedral towers. 
 
 Nothing about Mexico that I had heard in 
 the past had been so impressive to me as this 
 description of the view from the towers: 
 
 "The view of Mexico from the Cathedral 
 towers is beautiful. You then perceive at once 
 the situation of the capital of the Montezumas. 
 It is almost in the center of a valley encircled 
 by mountains. In the distance, glittering like 
 a belt of quicksilver, is a line of six lakes," etc. 
 etc. That's what Stoddard had said. 
 
 195 
 
Mexico. 
 
 Now, for a view of all Anahuac ! My pulses 
 beat at the prospect. 
 
 But Compania, a person gifted with good 
 common sense, scoffed at the idea of climbing 
 the Cathedral tower. 
 
 She would wait below, she said, so there was 
 nothing to do but ascend alone. 
 
 Up, up, up! This was easy — stone steps, 
 straight ahead. 
 
 To amuse myself, I counted the steps. 
 
 Fifty, sixty, sixty-five, etc. 
 
 It was pleasant to reach a landing at last. 
 
 0, yes, and there was the door, the guide 
 informed me of. 
 
 ' ' Pull the string, and the latch will fly open ! ' ' 
 
 I pulled the string, but only a bell clanked 
 forth. Then the door flew open, and a comely 
 matron appeared. 
 
 It was a little like Jack-in-the-Bean-Stalk, 
 only it should have been a giantess, I believe, 
 who appeared. However, I held out un peso, 
 and she helped herself to it, and then permitted 
 me to enter. Here was a cozy home, high up in 
 the clouds, although an infant started up a ter- 
 rible wailing, having been wakened, no doubt, 
 by the clanking bell. It was the bell ringer's 
 domain. 
 
 Then I passed through another door and 
 again began the ascent. Up! up, up! The 
 climbing was not so pleasant by this time. The 
 steps were spiral, though enclosed. 
 
 196 
 
Mexico. 
 
 Up, up, up! I lost count of the steps, but 
 kept repeating: ''The view of Mexico from 
 the Cathedral towers is beautiful," etc. 
 
 Thank heavens, at last a landing is reached. 
 I see the daylight and the sky overhead. I 
 step out and almost gasp at the prospect. Bells, 
 bells, bells. Big, little, middle-sized and all! 
 But no view of Anahuac as the parapet was so 
 high one could see nothing beyond it. All the 
 bells had ropes fastened to the tongues — for it 
 is by the tongues bells are rung in Mexico, as 
 in Russia. 
 
 Here was the famous old melodious Guada- 
 lupe, which cost $10,000, and weighs over six 
 tons. 
 
 ''Could she do it; dare she do it?" 
 
 What would old Mexico do, should the bells 
 peal forth at so unseasonable an hour! 
 
 No fear, my whole strength could not move 
 one tongue to strike the sides. 
 
 But here's another door and another spiral. 
 
 Up, up, up. 
 
 "The view of Mexico from the Cathedral 
 towers is beautiful," etc. 
 
 This spiral was entirely open; one could 
 glance down, down, down. 
 
 One false step would be fatal. 
 
 Then I remembered the friendly injunctions 
 learned from tourists — not to ascend steps in 
 Mexico too rapidly, on account of the altitude, 
 for the least haste has often proved fatal, but — 
 
 197 
 
Mexico. 
 
 "The view of Mexico from the Cathedral 
 towers is beautiful," etc. 
 
 Then my feet encountered a loose tread of 
 the stairs, then another. I grasped the bal- 
 ustrade, but it was loose and tottered — 
 
 I shall tell you on good authority that "The 
 view of Mexico from the Cathedral towers is 
 beautiful," etc. 
 
 If you don't believe me, you can see for your- 
 self. 
 
 OTHER CHURCHES AND SHRINES OF 
 MEXICO. 
 
 This Cathedral of Mexico City is only one of 
 the 10,000 churches in the Republic which are 
 presided over by six Archbishops and twenty 
 bishops. 
 
 A great many are a couple of centuries old, 
 at least, and all are interesting. 
 
 A number have been despoiled by the laws 
 of the "Reform," and many have been abol- 
 ished altogether, or perverted to another use, 
 generally for some state purpose. 
 
 El Senor del Sacramonte, "the Lord of the 
 Holy Mount, " is a famous image, being a cruci- 
 fix which had been brought from Spain in 1527. 
 It is enshrined in a chapel on the Sacramonte 
 near Amecameca, and the old crumbling church 
 at Tzintzutzan contains a treasure which is 
 guarded most jealously by the padres, being an 
 object of special veneration to many pilgrims 
 
 198 
 
Mexico. 
 
 — particularly artists — for it is none other than 
 a marvelous painting by Titian, ''The Entomb- 
 ment. ' ' 
 
 It was given by the Emperor Charles V to 
 his friend, a bishop transferred from Madrid 
 to this Indian village of Tzintzuntzan, in 1533. 
 
 F. Hopkinson Smith, in his charming book, 
 ''A White Umbrella in Mexico," describes in- 
 imitably a journey to this church. 
 
 Another holy shrine is that of Nuestra 
 Senora de los Remedios, ''Our Lady of Suc- 
 cor." 
 
 It contains a carved wooded statue of Our 
 Lady about eight inches long and is in the 
 church of Los Eemedios on the hill of Totol- 
 tepec, near Nancalpan. 
 
 It had been brought from Spain by the con- 
 querors and many miracles are recorded in con- 
 nection with it, the first one being the preser- 
 vation of the Christians on that terrible "Dis- 
 mal Night." 
 
 But the shrine of all shrines in Mexico is that 
 of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the patroness of the 
 Indians and of all Mexico. 
 
 It was shortly after the Conquest, in 1531, 
 that Our Blessed Lady appeared to a poor 
 Indian. 
 
 "Why are your brethren so slow to accept 
 the faith of the Spaniards? I wish you for my 
 children, build here a church in my honor." 
 
 It was in a voice of marvelous sweetness that 
 she spoke. ^qq 
 
Mexico. 
 
 Poor Juan Diego! Overwhelmed, he sank 
 upon his knees. 
 
 ''Go to the bishop and take my message." 
 
 But the poor, humble Indian is not credited. 
 
 Again he meets the beautiful Lady and she 
 gently repeats her commands. 
 
 But he implores her to find a more worthy 
 messenger, not a poor, ignorant Indian. He 
 will not be believed. 
 
 So she tells him to ask the bishop what token 
 he requires. 
 
 And the bishop says: ''If roses spring from 
 the rocks on the barren hillsides, I will credit 
 your story. ' ' 
 
 That night the uncle of Juan Diego became 
 seriously ill, and Juan hastens to fetch the 
 priest — for both he and his uncle had been bap- 
 tised. 
 
 He does not wish to meet the Lady, for he 
 fears she will detain him, so he takes a different 
 path to avoid the spot where she had appeared. 
 
 Simple Juan Diego ! 
 
 She tells him to return to his uncle, as his ill- 
 ness had left him, and to pluck those roses and 
 take them to the bishop. 
 
 And not only the roses did he take, carried 
 so carefully in his tilma, for when it was un- 
 folded — behold, there was the image of the 
 Blessed Lady herself impressed upon the 
 blanket. 
 
 200 
 
Mexico. 
 
 It is the same miraculous picture that is over 
 the high altar in the beautiful church of Our 
 Lady of Guadalupe to this day. 
 
 Artists, scientists, from all quarters of the 
 globe have examined the picture, and all must 
 acknowledge that it was no human hand that 
 impressed it upon the cloth. 
 
 Truly did the sovereign pontiff declare when 
 verifying the apparition, "Non fecit taliter 
 omnia nationes ! ' ' 
 
 (''So great favor was not done to any other 
 nation!") 
 
 EDUCATION UNDER THE VICEROYS. 
 
 The first university in the new world was 
 built in Mexico and so also was the first news- 
 paper printed here. 
 
 Prof. Frederick Starr of the University of 
 Chicago, in his book, "Modern Mexican Auth- 
 ors," translates an instance which ought to 
 make us feel quite behind the times in our so- 
 called modern educational theories — compul- 
 sory education, etc. 
 
 He states that one of the early Spanish 
 padres was so full of zeal for the education of 
 the young that he had a law passed compelling 
 the grandees, the hidalgos, to send their chil- 
 dren to his school under pain of penalty, fine, 
 etc. 
 
 The hidalgos, as well as the Indians, were 
 very indifferent about education, as is obvious 
 
 201 
 
Mexico. 
 
 from the necessity of the law, but to escape the 
 penalty sent the children of their retainers in- 
 stead. 
 
 When they awoke to the fact of the wonder- 
 ful advantages enjoyed by their servants, they 
 were glad to send their own children. 
 
 Now in the Republic are free schools scat- 
 tered broadcast. 
 
 Each Indian village has at least one or more. 
 
 We are told that in all, English is a compul- 
 sory study, above the Fourth Grade. 
 
 We judge that the law has not been long in 
 effect, or that the knowledge of the English lan- 
 guage must be of slow growth, for nowhere did 
 we encounter an Indian or Mexican who under- 
 stood it — that is, among the peons, those who 
 would patronize those free schools. 
 
 President Diaz himself does not speak or 
 understand English. 
 
 The Americans, of whom there are 10,000 in 
 the City of Mexico, have their own instructors 
 brought from the States. 
 
 We were informed that a rule had to be made 
 forbidding the pupils to speak Spanish at 
 recess, so quickly do language and environ- 
 ment impress themselves upon the young ! 
 
 An American miss — quite a young one — who 
 had lived for most of her few years in Mexico 
 at Saint Louis Potosi, was speaking to us about 
 the bull fights. This is what she said: ''Oh, 
 we had a bull fight at our house, arranged espe- 
 
 202 
 
Mexico. 
 
 cially for children ! We killed two goats and a 
 calf!" 
 
 (I wondered if her father were an enterpris- 
 ing stock yards man!) *'It was the most fun! 
 
 In children's bull fights, ladies can ride 
 around the ring and be the picadores. I was 
 one. 
 
 But I saw a real bull fight once. It was 
 grand! The bull tossed the matador seven 
 feet high into the air, and then trampled him 
 to death, 
 
 I never had so much fun in my life ! ' ' 
 
 THE BULL FIGHT. 
 
 The Toreador's Song in Carmen had given 
 us some idea of a bull fight, but now we are in 
 touch with the pulse of the nation. We feel its 
 heart throbs — thousands of us, intent, expec- 
 tant, breathless! 
 
 How awful the excitement! Mexican theat- 
 ricals and music were a side issue, indeed ! 
 
 At last a blast of music. The ''Quadrille" 
 dances into the arena. Prancing steeds, gallant 
 picadores. 0, but they are welcomed vocifer- 
 ously and they gallop around the circuit, salut- 
 ing. 
 
 Then come the banderilleros, and then the 
 puntilleros. 
 
 How handsomely clad! This is surely Old 
 Spain. 
 
 203 
 
Mexico. 
 
 But what now? Who comes? What shout- 
 ing, tossing of hats, clapping, screaming until 
 hoarse ! 
 
 "Fuentes! Fuentes!" 
 
 There he is, the hero of the hour ! The popu- 
 lar idol. Fuentes, the mighty toreador from 
 Spain. 
 
 The beautiful cloaks are tossed aside. 
 
 But now ! 
 
 In comes the bull. He is bewildered. 
 
 The picadores greet him with spear thrusts. 
 
 He would fain avoid them, but is not allowed. 
 
 The banderilleros spread in front of his 
 amazed gaze their flaming scarlet cloaks. 
 
 He rushed towards them, but they nimbly 
 step aside. 
 
 The puntillero steps up and dexterously 
 pierces his neck with barbed arrows. 
 
 Others follow suit. 
 
 He is tormented, infuriated. 
 
 And now, O! horrors! and horrors, again, 
 for this is the horror of the fight. 
 
 He rushes at the picador who slides off his 
 horse, but the poor beast, blind-folded, does not 
 see his foe — and what follows ! 
 
 Let me not write it, let me not think of it! 
 Shut it out from my memory forever! But it 
 is the inevitable occurrence, the whetting of 
 the appetite for the treat. It is the satisfying 
 the craving of the populace for a taste of gore. 
 
 The poor horse is literally ripped open by 
 
 204 
 
Mexico. 
 
 the cruel horns. He is tossed and held aloft 
 on them, and then falls, his entrails strewing 
 the arena! 
 
 These are only the preliminaries. The 
 matador has been standing idly by watching 
 this side play, for the bull has been only sported 
 with, as a mouse by the kittens. 
 
 Soon the populace have had enough of wait- 
 ing, and call for the matador (toreador). He 
 is the killer so he comes forth and the real fight 
 begins. 
 
 Nimble and dexterous and skilled he is, and 
 after placing a dagger, once, twice, three times 
 into the animal, he finally touches the vital 
 spot, and presto! he has conquered. 
 
 That is only one bull, and six or more are 
 killed at each fight and these fights take place 
 every Sunday and feast day throughout the 
 year! 
 
 THE LAST OF THE VICEROYS. 
 
 Among the sixty-odd viceroys who ruled 
 Mexico for Spain, it is interesting to note that 
 one was a lineal descendent of Columbus, and 
 that another was the Count of Montezuma, a 
 connection of the line of ancient kings. 
 
 The last of the viceroys was O'Donoju, pro- 
 nounced O'Donohue (more power to him!) 
 
 In the beginning of the 19th century a cer- 
 tain little man in Europe was holding the cen- 
 ter of the stage D 'affairs. 
 
 205 
 
Mexico. 
 
 His name was Napoleon Bonaparte. Charles 
 IV, whose monument we viewed in the Paseo, 
 was the king of Spain. 
 
 Napoleon wished his throne as a resting place 
 for the dignity of his brother Joseph, so 
 Charles abdicated in his favor. 
 
 For a while, then, Joseph Bonaparte was 
 king of Spain, and consequently ruler of Mex- 
 ico. 
 
 Then the son of Charles obtained the throne 
 and then Charles himself wanted it back again ; 
 and meanwhile poor Mexico became somewhat 
 muddled as to whom she owed allegiance. 
 
 Finally, Hidalgo, a priest of the little parish 
 of Dolores, raised the standard of liberty, in 
 1810. The following year he was imprisoned 
 and shot. We see at Chihuahua, the room in 
 which he was confined and also the fine monu- 
 ment and statue that have been erected over 
 the place of his execution and his portrait is 
 hung in the National Palace (the Viceroy's 
 Mansion) while the Mexican government has 
 affixed his name to that of the Indian village 
 of Guadalupe, which is now called Guadalupe- 
 Hidalgo, for the standard he raised for freedom 
 was a banner bearing an image of Our Lady of 
 Guadalupe. 
 
 A compatriot — also a priest, Morelos — con- 
 tinued the warfare and he also was put to 
 death, but the torch of freedom was not how- 
 ever, extinguished, and continued to burn un- 
 
 206 
 
Mexico. 
 
 til finally Iturbide, the Spanish general, him- 
 self joined issue with the Mexican forces. 
 Thereby O'Donoju was forced to abdicate in 
 1821, and Iturbide had himself proclaimed 
 emperor, 1822. He was forced to resign in 
 1823, and was banished, but the next year he 
 returned, was captured and shot. 
 
 MEXICO, THE REPUBLIC. 
 
 The baby republic was not fortunate in its 
 foster-father, Santa Anna, the irrepressible 
 one, the intriguer. Born in Mexico in 1795, he 
 entered the Spanish army and fought against 
 his countrymen until 1821, when he joined 
 Iturbide, who promoted him to high offices. 
 
 When Iturbide established an empire, Santa 
 Anna proclaimed a republic and brought about 
 his patron's downfall, but in 1829 he tried to 
 again bring Mexico under Spanish rule. 
 
 His policy, which was to reduce the states to 
 provinces and place all power in the central 
 government, lost his country Texas, in 1836. 
 
 Texas was very far from the national center, 
 and the means of communication were few. 
 
 Many adventurers from the United States 
 had poured into that province — celebrated for 
 its cattle-raising. Austin had brought 300 
 families which settled on the site now bearing 
 his name and it became more American than 
 Spanish. 
 
 207 
 
Mexico. 
 
 The United States had completed the Louis- 
 iana Purchase, but inherited with it, the old 
 dispute with Mexico over boundary, so, during 
 the dispute, Texas set up a claim for independ- 
 ence. The Alamo, in San Antonio, now a war 
 museum, was its "cradle of liberty." 
 
 It was a convent in the old Spanish days, 
 but was used as a fort, defended by Col. Bowie 
 (of bowie-knife fame), David Crockett and a 
 handful of men, but Santa Anna marched 
 against them, captured the fort, and killed the 
 defenders, but Gen. Houston later defeated him 
 at San Jacinto. 
 
 Texas thus won her independence and she be- 
 came a republic, with Houston as president. 
 
 That government did not long survive, how- 
 ever, owing chiefly to financial reasons, so the 
 Americans applied for annexation to the 
 United States, after which followed our war 
 with Mexico, 1845-1848. 
 
 One of the battles of that war Whittier im- 
 mortalized in his poem — 
 
 ''The Angels of Buena Vista." He closes with 
 this tribute to the "Angels:" 
 
 "But the noble Mexic women still their holy 
 task pursued 
 
 Through that long, dark night of sorrow, worn 
 and faint and lacking food. 
 
 Over weak and suffering brothers, with a ten- 
 der care they hung, 
 
 208 
 
Mexico. 
 
 And the dying foeman blessed them in a strange 
 and Northern tongue. 
 
 Not wholly lost, O Father! is this evil world 
 
 of ours; 
 Upward, through its blood and ashes, spring 
 
 afresh the Eden flowers ; 
 From its smoking hell of battle, Love and Pity 
 
 send their prayer, 
 And still thy white-winged angels hover dimly 
 
 in our air!" 
 
 For about half a century after the birth of 
 the Mexican republic, the country was in a 
 state of chronic disorder and civil war, and 
 through it all, Santa Anna bobbed up serenely. 
 
 He was a great man — in one respect, at least 
 — for through it all he preserved his head and 
 he had the distinction which was unique in 
 Mexico at that time — of dying a natural death. 
 
 That happy event occurred in 1876, and from 
 that date Mexico's advancement and prosperity 
 began. 
 
 During those fifty years, Mexico had fifty- 
 two presidents and one emperor, and each 
 change in a ruler was brought about by so much 
 bloodshed that its history would read like an 
 obituary column. 
 
 Santa Anna was president five times and the 
 president's master times without number. 
 
 After the loss of Texas and his capture by 
 
 209 
 
Mexico. 
 
 Houston, he was held a prisoner for a time in 
 the States, and was in disfavor with his coun- 
 trymen; but afterwards the French, luckily for 
 him — attacked Vera Cruz and in his gallant de- 
 fense of that city he lost a leg. 
 
 That loss was a great gain to him, for it re- 
 instated him somewhat in the good graces of 
 the people. 
 
 On the fall of the national capital to Scott 
 he resigned the presidency and fled the city by 
 night. 
 
 In 1853 he was recalled by a revolution in 
 his country and made president for life with 
 the title of "Most Serene Highness." 
 
 His harsh rule, however, provoked a number 
 of revolts and he was driven from the country. 
 
 On the establishment of an empire under 
 Maximilian he was allowed to return and was 
 appointed grand marshall of the empire. 
 
 That high office even, could not make him 
 faithful, and he plotted against this patron 
 also, and was again driven forth. 
 
 On the death of Maximilian, he attempted to 
 return, was captured, tried by court martial, 
 and sentenced to death, but Juarez pardoned 
 him, on condition of his leaving the country, 
 and the now old man amused himself as best 
 he could in the United States — mostly in New 
 York until a general amnesty in 1872 allowed 
 him to return to Mexico. He was then 77 
 years old. Four years later he died, and is 
 
 210 
 
Mexico. 
 
 buried in the beautiful cemetery in the church- 
 yard at Guadalupe-Hidalgo. 
 
 MAXIMILIAN, THE EMPEROR OF MEXICO. 
 
 What with civil war and strife, Mexico 's re- 
 sources w^ere well-nigh exhausted. 
 
 When she proclaimed her inability to meet 
 her foreign financial obligations, three Euro- 
 pean countries, England, France and Spain, 
 sent war ships in protest, and also to protect 
 their respective citizens. 
 
 Afterwards England and Spain withdrew 
 their forces, but the French fleet remained, and 
 held the capital, 1862. 
 
 Louis Bonaparte, Napoleon III, was then 
 emperor of France and he wished to increase 
 his own glory by making Mexico a vassal of that 
 country, so he invited Maximilian, the arch- 
 duke of Austria, and younger brother of the 
 emperor Francis Joseph, to the throne which 
 he accepted in all good faith thinking it a kind- 
 ness to govern a country so utterly unable to 
 govern itself. He with his wife, Carlotta, 
 daughter of Leopold, the king of Belgium, was 
 crowned in the Cathedral of Mexico in 1864. 
 
 Mexico invoked the protection of the United 
 States according to the Monroe Doctrine, in 
 vain, as that country was engaged in its own 
 Civil War, but when that ended America or- 
 dered the French troops recalled. Carlotta 
 
 211 
 
Mexico. 
 
 sought aid from Napoleon and from the pope 
 but in vain, so Maximilian was helpless, though 
 he made a desperate defense at Puebla and 
 at Queretaro. At the former place, Diaz, the 
 present president of Mexico, distinguished him- 
 self with the Republican forces. 
 
 Maximilian was tried by court martial and 
 shot; while Carlotta became hopelessly insane. 
 
 On the Hill of the Bells at Queretaro were 
 three black crosses marking the spot where 
 perished Maximilian and his two generals, 
 Mijia and Miramon, but later a memorial 
 chapel has been built there in honor of the 
 martyred emperor. 
 
 JUAEEZ AND THE "REFORM." 
 
 In the southern state of Oaxaca, in Mexico, 
 was born in 1806, a child of Indian parents, 
 Benito Juarez. 
 
 He was destined to play a forcible part in 
 Mexican affairs, becoming a leader of the Lib- 
 erals and overthrowing the Conservatives, or 
 Church party. 
 
 Of all strifes, that concerning religion is the 
 most bitter, and much of the bloodshed in Mex- 
 ico was caused in defending it or in attacking it. 
 
 During the three hundred years of Mexico's 
 subjection to Spain, the religion of the country 
 was Catholic. 
 
 Church and state were united. 
 
 212 
 
Mexico. 
 
 On the country's independence, two parties 
 existed, the one which upheld the church and 
 the one which opposed it. 
 
 In 1858 the Liberal president was overthrown 
 by the Church party and Juarez, who was vice- 
 president of the Liberals, assumed the execu- 
 tive, but was forced to flee from the capital. 
 
 He was the first protestant president of Mex- 
 ico. 
 
 He was a mason and fought to overthrow the 
 Church. 
 
 It was a strife somewhat similar to that in 
 France at the present day. 
 
 In 1859 he issued from Vera Cruz, where he 
 was forced to remain, his Laws of the Eeform. 
 
 They were harsh mandates against the relig- 
 ion of the country. 
 
 The church property was confiscated. 
 
 Religious Orders were driven out of the coun- 
 try. 
 
 No religious procession was allowed on the 
 streets. 
 
 No priest was to be seen on the street in his 
 priestly garb. 
 
 The Religions Sisters were forced to leave 
 their convents. 
 
 Civil marriage only was recognized by the 
 state. 
 
 We can realize how the Church party wel- 
 comed Maximilian as a means of opposing those 
 arbitrary laws. 
 
 213 
 
Mexico. 
 
 On the death of Maximilian, Juarez entered 
 the capital and was elected president for four 
 years. 
 
 He was re-elected in 1871, during many fierce 
 revolutionary uprisings. 
 
 He died suddenly the next year. He is buried 
 in San Fernando Cemetery, in the City of Mex- 
 ico. His tomb is literally lined with wreaths, 
 crowns, and masonic emblems of every shape 
 and hue. 
 
 He is called by some the Lincoln of his race. 
 
 Very bitter indeed must be their hatred of 
 religion when they compare it to the slavery 
 from which our noble Lincoln freed our 
 country ! 
 
 PORFIRIO DIAZ, THE FATHER OF HIS 
 PEOPLE. 
 
 Early in the nineteenth century Oaxaca gave 
 birth to another child of Indian parentage, Por- 
 firio Diaz. 
 
 Since 1876, coincident with the death of Santa 
 Anna, he has been president of the Mexican 
 Eepublic. 
 
 Thirty-five years president of a country, 
 which had as many rulers, formerly, as years! 
 
 In our Lincoln's Day celebrations we distri- 
 bute to the children of our schools pictures of 
 the log cabin in which our hero was born. 
 
 It is one of our greatest incentives to show 
 that no matter how lowly or humble the parent- 
 
 214 
 
Mexico. 
 
 age, true greatness will assert itself and rise to 
 its proper sphere. 
 
 Diaz's birthplace, a humble adobe hut, was 
 torn down and a school erected over the site. 
 
 It may not be well to repeat unkind state- 
 ments, but we were told in Mexico, that Diaz 
 had his early home torn down because he was 
 ashamed of it! 
 
 We do not know. 
 
 Many unkind things are said of him in 
 Mexico, but it alters not our opinion of him. 
 He is a great man, and a prudent man; and 
 a mighty ruler. 
 
 It is a saying that '^a prophet is without 
 honor in his own country," and the saying is 
 verified in the case of Diaz. 
 
 He may not be entirely without honor, but 
 we have seen that he is not without opposition 
 and intrigue and bitter hatred. 
 
 It makes one only marvel the more at his 
 great ability, and feel everywhere the strength 
 which his ''velvet glove" conceals. 
 
 "We think highly of your president," we 
 have said to Mexicans, *'he has placed your 
 country among the nations of the world. 
 
 What wonderful improvements ! What order ! 
 What discipline! What drainage! 
 
 Perfect safety of life and property. Schools, 
 railroads, freedom." 
 
 And then the flashing eyes and the contracted 
 brows. 
 
 215 
 
Mexico. 
 
 "Yes, Diaz!" has been almost hissed, and 
 from these courteous Mexicans! 
 
 "You do not like Diaz? It's a wonder you 
 are not afraid to speak as you do. We might 
 tell." 
 
 "No, I am not afraid. Diaz is afraid of 
 America. He gives all concessions to Ameri- 
 cans. He gives the railroads. Yes, he is afraid 
 to fight. 
 
 See that case on the Yaqui River. 
 
 The Americans own the mines; they settle 
 there. They incite the natives to rebellion 
 against the government. 
 
 We have spent thousands of dollars in re- 
 pressing them. They are continually breaking 
 out. 
 
 It is Texas over again. Why doesn't Diaz 
 let us fight ! What if we do get licked ? We 'd 
 have the satisfaction of fighting anyway. 
 
 Diaz is just afraid, that's all," etc., etc. 
 
 0, those fiery young Mexicans! 
 
 Fighting is in their blood. It has been smold- 
 ering for thirty-one years. 
 
 Another says, "Wait until Diaz is dead and 
 then you '11 see ! ' ' 
 
 I wonder what we'll see? 
 
 We see now, that he holds the check-reins 
 tight and keeps the bit well in. 
 
 There is no free press in Mexico. 
 
 If any newspaper suggested that another 
 
 president would be desired, that editor would 
 
 be put to death. 
 
 216 
 
Mexico. 
 
 Many men are *'done away with" and 
 nothing is thought of it. 
 
 It is said to be for the good of the country. 
 
 Elections are a farce. When election time 
 draws near, the chosen few get together and 
 then the announcement is made that Diaz is re- 
 elected. 
 
 On the adoption of the Eepublican form of 
 government in 1824, Mexico closely modeled its 
 Constitution on that of the United States. 
 
 The president, assisted by six secretaries, 
 was to be elected for four years. 
 
 But in the destiny of nations, who is to be 
 the arbiter? 
 
 Mexico has not much cause for friendliness 
 towards the United States. We have taken 
 very much territory from her, and now we are 
 treading on her toes in taking her most valu- 
 able productions. 
 
 0, yes, it is American push and energy and 
 capital and all that but is there an equal amount 
 of American justice and uprightness in HI 
 
 In a certain well-known American periodical, 
 we read this glowing announcement: 
 
 "Millions for America in Mexican copper! 
 Mexico has produced in mineral wealth more 
 than a billion dollars. 
 
 More than half the mining patents last 
 year were granted to men who were, or had 
 been, citizens of the United States. 
 
 Mexico may rank first in the world's pro- 
 ducers of copper." 
 
 217 
 
Mexico. 
 
 And then it went on to state how many mines 
 were already owned by a certain company of 
 Chicago ! 
 
 It's fine for America, isn't it? My country, 
 I rejoice in your Might. 
 
 To the furthermost bounds of the earth your 
 strong right arm stretches forth to protect me 
 and uphold me. 
 
 What prouder title than to be an American 
 citizen ! 
 
 But 0, America, my country, let me rather 
 rejoice in your Right than in your Might. 
 
 There were other great nations of the past, 
 and their Might has crumbled and there re- 
 mains only their name. 
 
 But Right is eternal. 
 
 Diaz, forced to flee from his country, has 
 died in exile. 
 
 One president has succeeded another in rapid 
 succession and one political party after an- 
 other has held sway. What with the war 
 cloud extending even to our own United States 
 the end is not yet in sight. 
 
 His Grace, the most Reverend Archbishop 
 Ruiz of Mexico, has graciously sent the follow- 
 ing letter in response to a request for a state- 
 ment concerning the recent upheavals in Mex- 
 ico. He is exiled in our midst — one of the shep- 
 herds hounded that the wolves might the more 
 easily devour their flocks : 
 
 218 
 
Mexico. 
 
 Chicago, March 20, 1917. 
 Miss S. A. Eyan, 
 
 832 Windsor Ave. 
 Dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 In answer to your kind request, I am send- 
 ing not a sketch of the Mexican affairs, v>"hich 
 would require longer time than I can dispose of 
 and a greater space than the length of a let- 
 ter; but just a few words in due praise of the 
 little known religiousness of that unfortunate, 
 yet great people. 
 
 Since the early days of the Spanish Rule in 
 the beginning of the sixteenth century, the 
 ''good tidings" were fervently preached and 
 attentively listened to. Most of the Indian 
 tribes accepted the Gospel at once, while the 
 task of the conversion of some others was a 
 hard one, and more than one religious order can 
 glory of several martyred missionaries. 
 
 The rectitude, integrity, morality, behavior; 
 — in sum, the whole life of those early converts 
 was deserving and exemplary. 
 
 Soon the country as a whole became Catho- 
 lic, and when later on a new" race sprang on that 
 soil, it received from both the Spanish and the 
 Indian ancestors the patrimony of Faith. 
 
 For nearly three and a half centuries, reli- 
 gion was held in reverence and honor; so it 
 could set deep roots, quite unaware of the im- 
 pending storms which eventually were to come 
 and shake it most violently, as the howling 
 
 219 
 
Mexico. 
 
 winds shake the old oak in the woods when the 
 tempest is raging. 
 
 Adversity came and has settled in that coun- 
 try ever since the first years of the past cen- 
 tury. The Catholics were put to a hard test, 
 first under a masqued persecution and after- 
 wards, in three different times, in an open 
 way — their churches, convents and colleges 
 were looted and seized, their worthiest men 
 imprisoned or banished and no means were 
 spared to seal the doom of Faith, among which 
 it was perhaps the worse that the rulers obliged 
 the children to receive an anti-religious and 
 atheistic instruction. 
 
 There were different stages; but it stands a 
 fact that for more than a century, once a per- 
 secution had subsided, another has taken its 
 place. 
 
 The test has been a hard and lasting one. 
 How have the Catholic people stood it? 
 
 When about the close of 1905 you visited that 
 country, surely you could not fail to realize 
 how strong, how intense is Faith there, how 
 people are, as it were, identified with their 
 Faith, and do really live a life of Faith. 
 
 A few years ago, one of the most honorable 
 foreigners I have ever met, describing his per- 
 sonal impressions, told me that nothing had 
 struck him more deeply during his long life, 
 than the most frequent use of illusions to God in 
 the Mexican language. Certainly such expres- 
 
 220 
 
Mexico. 
 
 sions as ''If God permits," "if God allows," 
 ''thank God," "blessed be God," "praised be 
 God," "God help," "God bless you," "God en- 
 lighten you, " " God lead you, " " God bring you 
 safe" and many, many more are common in 
 daily conversation. The worthy visitor ought to 
 add that God has the choicest place not only 
 on the lips, but in the homes and in the hearts 
 of the Mexicans as well. The most conspicu- 
 ous place not only of rich mansions but of 
 poor huts as well, is always occupied by a pic- 
 ture of our Divine Saviour or of the Blessed 
 Virgin Mary. 
 
 On the other hand, blasphemy has always 
 been utterly unknown, and w4ien, once upon a 
 time a certain editor accused the people of it, 
 the clamor aroused against him was as great 
 as was my joy to find that not even blas- 
 phemous expressions and terms were found in 
 the language of the Mexicans. It is the sad lot 
 of the present time to have blasphemy not only 
 on the lips of some miscreants, but even printed 
 in the daily press and spread throughout. 
 
 If, during your trip, you had the chance to 
 stop in a country parish, you must surely have 
 realized how careful are those peasants to hear 
 Mass on Sundays, no matter if it rains, or is 
 cold or hot ; no matter if they live two, three, six 
 or even more miles afar. 
 
 Not being there by May, you could not see 
 one of the most beautiful and, as it were, lieav- 
 
 221 
 
Mexico. 
 
 enly displays of devotion towards the Most 
 Blessed Virgin Mary. But perhaps you were 
 acquainted with our traditional "Posadas" or 
 novena before Christmas. 
 
 I hope also that you had the opportunity to 
 behold the December monthly pilgrimage to the 
 Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe. None of 
 these displays of Faith and devotion but are 
 grand. 
 
 Now that persecution rages, and that num- 
 berless outrages are committed against the 
 Church, they suffer, pray and expect better 
 days. 
 
 Meanwhile they have set an encouraging ex- 
 ample: they have openly protested against 
 those articles of the new constitution conflicting 
 with their consciences and deep convictions. 
 And this they did under the present, far from 
 reassuring circumstances. 
 
 In view of these facts, it is to be hoped 
 that, despite oppression and persecution, the 
 heroic Mexican Catholics shall continue to cling 
 to their religion as hitherto, and that the Cath- 
 olic Faith so deeply anchored in their hearts, 
 shall be always their guide and their most 
 prized treasure. 
 
 With best regards, I remain 
 
 Very truly yours 
 
 Leopoldo Ruis, 
 Archbishop of Michoacan 
 
 222 
 
Personal Letters and Testimonials to 
 
 Miss Ryan, pertaining to 
 
 her book, 
 
 "Florence in Poetry, History and Art" 
 
FLORENCE 
 IN POETRY, HISTORY AND ART 
 
 "Florence is Poetry, History and Art," by 
 Sara Agnes Ryan, is a book that will meet the 
 approval of those who travel to Italy either by 
 steamship or in imagination nnder the study 
 lamp. It is written by one who has found 
 inner beauty everywhere, and to whom vener- 
 able shrines unfolded the story of the renais- 
 sance. Florence lives again in her pride. Her 
 history as told in the records of saints, and 
 the artists who came after, and the poets of 
 all countries who sang of them fill the volume 
 of 354 pages. 
 
 The narrative is accompanied by half-tone 
 prints of famous works of art and photographs 
 of galleries showing where masterpieces are 
 hung. Although the treasures of the city of 
 the Arno are practically inexhaustible, Miss 
 Eyan has made a liberal survey of nearly every- 
 thing of importance and including paintings 
 and sculpture and reference to places that es- 
 cape the average visitor. 
 
 The literary style has a charm and the text 
 is clear and friendly, leading the reader 
 through appropriate quotations from various 
 writers. The opinions are woven together to 
 secure an artistic unity, escaping the pitfalls 
 laid for the author who lacks the personality 
 to give an individual impression to a narrative 
 reciting history and borrowing the fine utter- 
 ances of famous men and women of the past. 
 
 225 
 
Florence 
 
 For the benefit of those who travel abroad 
 and are on the lookout for a book to put them 
 in the atmosphere of Italy, the plan is as fol- 
 lows: ''The Story of Florence," recalling the 
 city of the thirteenth century, the saints, ar- 
 tists, churches, the republic and its palaces, car- 
 ries the reader through the noonday splendor 
 of Florence, the era of Michaelangelo, the Mag- 
 nificent and the Monk, the days of Leonardo 
 and Raphael into the sixteenth century, "ere 
 yet the shadows fall." By means of legends 
 and poetry, the romance is preserved and old 
 pictures and works of art gain a reality they 
 would never have had by looking upon them 
 with the average guide book. The second part 
 of the volume is a formal review of the treas- 
 ures of Florence, intended to serve as a work 
 of reference. 
 
 Miss Ryan's choice of authorities is excel- 
 lent. Her literary excerpts come from fresh 
 sources as well as those tried by time, and it 
 is a marvel that a teacher busy in the Chicago 
 public schools should have found the leisure 
 to plan a work of such extent and one that 
 carries enthusiasm from first to last. It is the 
 product of an unwearied thinker, and one who 
 has enjoyed and understood the beauty of the 
 old Italian masters — Lena M. McCauley, in 
 "Art and Artists" of the Chicago Evening 
 Post. 
 
 226 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 ''Florence in Poetry, History and Art," by 
 Sara Agnes Ryan, is an elaborate volume on 
 a familiar but enduringly fascinating theme. 
 The plan of the work presents two parts, the 
 first being the story of the city of the Arno, 
 covering the great events and characters from 
 the thirteenth to the sixteenth century. Poems 
 from all sources have been carefully selected to 
 tell the story, and these are varied where nec- 
 essary by interpretations and notes filling out 
 the history. 
 
 The second part is devoted to the treasures 
 of Florence — churches, palaces, galleries and 
 other places of renown. There are over seventy 
 illustrations, reproductions of famous and 
 beautiful pictures, as well as some excellent 
 photographs of parts of the city. 
 
 The work has evidently been a labor of love 
 on the part of the author-compiler, and she 
 has produced an attractive work, bringing to- 
 gether the best thoughts of the many poets and 
 artists whose delight it was to honor Florence 
 with their best gifts." — Chicago Daily News. 
 
 "This is a very handsome volume, well 
 printed, and put together with discretion and 
 taste. 
 
 It is a veritable thesaurus for the lover of 
 Florence, Through the centuries there is culled 
 the best in all the arts. There is woven an 
 engaging history of the most fascinating city of 
 the world. 
 
 227 
 
Florence 
 
 The book is divided into two parts. The first 
 tells the story of Florence from the thirteenth 
 century, its saints and its artists. Part two re- 
 lates the treasures of Florence, its churches and 
 its palaces. 
 
 The illustrations are a running commentary, 
 a magic moving picture. 
 
 An excellent index leaves nothing to be de- 
 sired for the completion of a very valuable 
 work. We recommend it to those whose good 
 fortune it has been to have visited the city 
 by the Arno, and more so to those contemplat- 
 ing such a visit. Here is a guide book worth 
 while." — The New World. 
 
 ''This book is in a class by itself. In a 
 spirited, tender fashion it tells the story of 
 Florence, giving the reader a more definite un- 
 derstanding of that wonderful city than the 
 more voluminous works dealing with a preten- 
 tious mass of uninteresting details. 
 
 Florence is a city made famous by saints, 
 poets, sculptors, and painters. It is the store- 
 house of much that is precious in the eyes of 
 the world — it is the treasury of some of the 
 best creative works of genius. Religion, Art, 
 Poetry and Romance have found their finest 
 interpretations there in the centuries now gone ; 
 and the saints, poets, sculptors and painters 
 of Florence have left behind them immortal 
 monuments which have been the inspiration for 
 those who walked in their footsteps. 
 
 228 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 There is scarcely a writer of prose or poetry 
 of more modern times who has not in some 
 way glorified the memories of Florence and it 
 is precisely these various sentiments of love 
 and affection that the author has gathered in 
 this volume, weaving daintily with her own 
 deft touches the threads that bind them to- 
 gether. 
 
 The text is, moreover, illustrated with sev- 
 enty illustrations, intelligently chosen to por- 
 tray the glory of achievement and to empha- 
 size the splendor of the genius that has made 
 Florence eminent among the cities of the 
 world." — Monsignor Kelly, in The Church Ex- 
 tension Magazine. 
 
 ''Italy is the recognized mother of arts and 
 literature. Florence, perhaps more than any 
 other Italian city, is pre-eminent in both, and 
 in addition may claim to have been the birth- 
 place of modern commercial and monetary 
 systems. 
 
 The Medici made Florence financially fa- 
 mous. Dante, Petrarch and Bocaccio im- 
 mortalized her in verse and prose. Michael- 
 angelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Andrea 
 del Sarto blazoned the glory of old Firenze 
 to the four corners of the world by their un- 
 surpassing skill with the brush. Lippo Lippi 
 and his brother Angelico, the artist monks, were 
 the inspired apostles of the renaissance. Ghi- 
 
 229 
 
Florence 
 
 berti, Donatello, Da Fiesole, Luca della Rob- 
 bia, VerrocMo and Ghirlandajo heaped the 
 highest honors of sculpture upon the ancient 
 city. 
 
 Thus it happens that Florence, the city of 
 flowers, is likewise the flower of cities, a treas- 
 ure-house of poetry and art, a Mecca for all 
 that world which loves history aiid romance 
 and the masterpiece of the thirteenth, four- 
 teenth, fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. 
 
 In her volume, "Florence in Poetry, History 
 and Art," Sara Agnes Ryan has compiled 
 within a scant 350 pages, the written refer- 
 ences to Florence of more than 100 authors, 
 with a brief history of the Lily of the Arno, 
 her great merchants and bankers, her artists, 
 poets and sculptors, famous buildings, splen- 
 did statues and celebrated paintings. 
 
 The work is an invaluable companion to the 
 visitor to Florence. By its aid one whose 
 knowledge of the city must be confined to read- 
 ing can become familiar with every phase of 
 the world's most renowned art center. 
 
 The writer has produced a painstaking and 
 creditable compilation, not without its passage 
 of originality and novelty. The value of the 
 work is greatly enhanced by a convenient map 
 and exhaustive index. 
 
 A series of similar volumes treating with 
 equal skill and authority other world-cities 
 would be worth a place on the book shelves of 
 
 230 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 everyone who strives to be on ordinarily fa- 
 miliar terms with the world in which we live. 
 — The Chicago Journal. 
 
 "This would make a royal gift-book for 
 Christmas. Lovers of Florence, no less than 
 lovers of poetry and art, will revel in its sump- 
 tuous pages. 
 
 It is a beautiful book, compiled with infinite 
 painstaking and lavishly illustrated with fine, 
 full-page half-tones of the notable paintings in 
 the various galleries of Florence. The history 
 of Florence and of its great historic person- 
 ages, is set forth in prose and poem with a con- 
 tinuity and charm of selection from the best 
 authors, modern and medieval — from Dante to 
 Dickens— that speak well for the scholarship, 
 the literary discernment, the omniverous in- 
 dustry and the infinitely good taste of Miss 
 Ryan. 
 
 No word on Florence is left unsaid. Its fas- 
 cinating story is revealed. Its galleries are 
 ransacked to give us the best of its art. Its 
 poets and artists and warriors and statesmen 
 are made to re-live in Miss Ryan's pages. 
 
 'Florence in Poetry, History and Art' is a 
 book to read and re-read, to handle reverently, 
 and to treasure with care. 
 
 We know of nothing that to scholar, student, 
 or literary person, would be more acceptable 
 as a Christmas gift."— T7ie Rosary Magazine. 
 
 231 
 
Florence 
 
 Cardinal's Residence, 
 
 408 N. Charles St., 
 Baltimore, April 10, 1916. 
 Dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 His eminence. Cardinal Gibbons directs me 
 to say that he has quickly looked over the 
 copy of "Florence in Poetry, History and Art" 
 and found it very pleasing and interesting. He 
 thanks you for your kind thought in sending the 
 volume to him. 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 E. J. Connelly, 
 Asst. Secy. 
 
 P. S. — Please find enclosed check to cover 
 expense of sending book. 
 
 452 Madison Ave., 
 New York, Dec. 19, 1916. 
 Dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 His eminence. Cardinal Farley, directs me to 
 state in answer to your letter of Dec. 11, that 
 he will take the volume "Florence in Poetry, 
 History and Art" with which he is greatly 
 pleased. 
 
 His Eminence would like you to send four 
 (4) more copies and with them your bill (re- 
 tail) for the five. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Thomas G. Carroll, 
 
 Secretary. 
 
 232 
 
In Poetry, History and Art, 
 
 From His Grace, the Most Reverend John 
 Ireland, Archbishop of St. Paul. 
 
 St. Paul, Oct. 4, 1916. 
 Madam : 
 
 I enclose a check for two copies of your 
 book — one which you have sent me, another 
 which you will please send to me. The book 
 is admirably written, giving a true description 
 of fair Florence, amid splendid flashes of a 
 poetic imagination. Your grouping of extracts 
 from different authors touching upon men and 
 things in old Florence gives to the whole nar- 
 rative a richness which charms the reader while 
 putting before him succinctly an immense vol- 
 ume of choice literature. Your treatment of 
 Galileo is very good, very clever. 
 Very sincerely, 
 
 John Ireland. 
 
 From the Revered Late Archbishop Spalding. 
 
 Peoria, Nov. 24, 1915. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Ryan, 
 Dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 Please accept my sincere thanks for the vol- 
 ume you have so kindly sent to me. 
 
 It is a valuable contribution to Religion and 
 Art. I enclose a check for five dollars. 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 J. L. Spalding. 
 233 
 
Florence 
 
 Archbishop's House, 
 St. Louis, Nov. 16, 1916. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Ryan, 
 
 Your letter of the 13th inst. to hand, as also 
 your book entitled, ''Florence in Poetry, His- 
 tory and Art," which you were kind enough 
 to forward to me. 
 
 I shall be very glad at my leisure to read 
 this beautiful work of yours, and in the mean- 
 time you will accept the enclosed check in pay- 
 ment thereof. 
 
 With all good wishes, I remain 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 John J. Glennon, 
 Archbishop of St. Louis. 
 
 Bishop's House, 
 1035 Delaware Ave., 
 Buffalo, N. Y., Dec. 14, 1916. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Ryan, Chicago, 111. 
 My dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 Enclosed please find check to pay for a 
 copy of your book entitled ''Florence in Poetry, 
 History and Art." I have not has as yet the 
 time to read it, but I must congratulate you 
 upon the appearance it makes; it is certainly 
 a beautiful looking book, and I promise myself 
 a treat whenever I get time to read it. 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 D. J. Dougherty, 
 Bishop of Buffalo. 
 
 234 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 Saint Vincent College, 
 Beatty, Penn., Sept. 14, 1916. 
 My dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 The Rt. Rev. Arcliabbot has instructed me 
 to thank you in his name for the volume you 
 sent for his inspection. 
 
 He considers your work ''Florence in 
 Poetry, History and Art" a very scholarly per- 
 formance. The poetic passages, in particular, 
 show a thorough acquaintance with the loci 
 classici bearing on your subject and excep- 
 tional taste in selection. I beg to enclose check 
 for the volume sent and for another copy to 
 be addressed to St. Vincent Abbey Library. 
 
 With best wishes for the success of your lit- 
 erary venture, I remain 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Fr. Callistus, 0. S. B. 
 
 The St. Paul Seminary, 
 
 Groveland Park, 
 St. Paul, Minn., Sept. 12, 1916. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Ryan, Chicago, 111. 
 Madam : 
 
 I have received your beautiful book on Flor- 
 ence and read part of it. You may send your 
 bill for it to Rev. John Seligkar, Ph. D., our 
 librarian to whom I submitted it for approval. 
 
 I beg to remain 
 
 Respectfully, 
 
 L. J. S chaffer, 
 
 235 
 
Florence 
 
 Loretto Academy, 
 Niagara Falls, Canada, Dec. 11, 1916. 
 Miss S. A. Eyan, Chicago, 111. 
 Dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 Our librarian lias perused the choice volume 
 and is enthusiastic over its contents. She con- 
 siders it an invaluable addition to our library. 
 With the accompanying check I offer you 
 heartfelt congratulations on a literary and ar- 
 tistic production, revealing vast research, and 
 interesting from first page to last. 
 
 Thanking you for the pleasure and enlight- 
 enment provided by your splendid work, and 
 wishing you abundant success in your enter- 
 prise, I am, 
 
 Very sincerely in J. C. 
 
 Mother M. Eucharia, Supr., 
 
 Per M. B. 
 
 Mount de Chantal, 
 Wheeling, W. Va., May 19, 1916. 
 Dear Miss Eyan: 
 
 Enclosed please find check in payment for 
 your book '^Florence in Poetry, History and 
 Art." 
 
 The book is attractive in appearance and in- 
 structive in contents and it will be an accept- 
 able addition to our library. 
 
 Very cordially yours. 
 Mother M. Gertrude, V. J. S M. 
 
 Per A. 
 236 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 Villa Marie Convent, 
 
 Montreal, Feb. 2, 1916. 
 My dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 Enclosed is the price of your beautiful book, 
 as the bill marks it. 
 
 You are to be congratulated on bringing out 
 so magnificent a volume. I wish you the suc- 
 cess of sale its merits deserve. 
 Very truly yours. 
 
 Sister St. Mary Caroline, 
 Per S. Superior. 
 
 St. Francis Seminary, 
 St. Francis, Wis., Dec. 14, 1916. 
 Dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 I will keep your beautiful tribute to Italian 
 Art .and Poetry and hereby send you check, 
 wishing you success and God's blessing on your 
 noble endeavor to do justice to the ''ages of 
 Faith." Yours sincerely, 
 
 J. Rainer, V. G. 
 
 Holy Cross Academy, Dumbarton, 
 Washington, D. C., Nov. 11, 1915. 
 My dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 Your book is beautifully arranged and the 
 illustrations very fine. If time is ever mine I 
 shall take pleasure in reading it. 
 Please send receipt to 
 
 Yours truly in J. M. J., 
 Sister M. Bertilde. 
 
 237 
 
Florence 
 
 Seminary of Our Lady of Angels, 
 Niagara University, N. Y., May 13, 1916. 
 Miss Sara A. Ryan, 
 Dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 In sending you the enclosed check for the 
 copy of ''Florence in History, Poetry and 
 Art," which you mailed me, I wish also to 
 congratulate you on the production of so fas- 
 cinating a work. It will, I trust, receive a cor- 
 dial welcome from all lovers of Italian Art and 
 Poetry, and those who have not enjoyed a visit 
 to this far-famed historic city can read your 
 book with much pleasure and profit. 
 
 To those who have been there, the perusal 
 of the book will be to live over again a visit 
 never to be forgotten. 
 
 Very respectfully yours, 
 
 M. A. Drennan, C. M. 
 
 Office of the President, 
 St. Viator College. 
 Bourbonnais, 111., Oct. 8, 1915. 
 Miss Sara A. Ryan, Chicago, 111. 
 My dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 Enclosed you will find check for the copy of 
 your book "Florence in Poetry, History and 
 Art." 
 
 Hoping that there will be a proportional de- 
 mand for your splendid work, I remain 
 Very truly yours, 
 J. P. 0'Mahoney,C. S. V. 
 
 238 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 College and Academy of the 
 Immaculate Word, 
 
 Alamo Heights, 
 San Antonio, Texas, Mar. 29, 1916. 
 Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 I am in receipt of your book entitled "Flor- 
 ence in Poetry, History and Art." It will add 
 another classical volume to our library and 
 keep us in touch with the greatest of the great. 
 I take pleasure in enclosing check and wish 
 God's blessing on your work. I am 
 Sincerely yours. 
 
 Rev. Mother Alphonse, 
 Per Sr. M. Sup. Gen. 
 
 St. Louis University, 
 Office of the President. 
 
 St. Louis, Jan. 30, 1916. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Ryan, Chicago, 111. 
 Dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 Being exceedingly busy myself I turned over 
 your book "Florence in Poetry, History and 
 Art" to our professor of History and Art for 
 inspection. He speaks very highly of your 
 work. 
 
 I am enclosing a check so kindly send me 
 another copy. Please too, to send a receipted 
 bill. 
 
 Yours very respectfully, 
 Barnard J. Otting, 8. J. 
 
 President. 
 239 
 
Florence 
 
 Ursuline Convent, 
 New Orleans, Dec. 4, 1915. 
 Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 Your book entitled ' ' Florence in Poetry, His- 
 tory and Art" is certainly admirably arranged. 
 It will fill a long felt want in English litera- 
 ture, and I hope it will meet with the hearty 
 welcome it deserves. 
 
 Enclosed is a check to cover the price of the 
 volume you sent for my perusal. I have not 
 time at present to read it, but from a cursory 
 glance I gave its contents, I know I shall enjoy 
 it, as it appears to be so thoroughly classic. 
 
 I am enclosing the card and clippings you 
 sent. I read them with much satisfaction. 
 
 Wishing you every success with your inter- 
 esting work, I am yours sincerely, 
 
 Mother St. Charles, Sup. 
 
 Convent of Notre Dame, 
 321 East Sixth Street. 
 Cincinnati, Ohio, Feb. 5, 1917. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Ryan, 
 Dear Madam: 
 
 We enclose a check to cover cost of your 
 excellent book. We wish it God speed on its 
 errand of good to the educational world. 
 With best wishes I am dear madam 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 Sister Cornelia, 
 S. N. D. 
 240 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 The Creighton University, 
 College of Arts and Sciences, 
 25tli & California Streets. 
 Omaha, Neb., Jan. 25th, 1916. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Ryan, 
 Dear Madam : 
 
 Father McMenemy, President of the Univer- 
 sity, requests me to convey to you his sincere 
 thanks for permitting him to read the enclos- 
 ures which I am returning to you. 
 
 It affords me pleasure to enclose also a small 
 acknowledgment of the reception of your very 
 attractive book on ''Florence," which we shall 
 be glad to add to the University library. 
 Yours very sincerely, 
 William T. Kinsella, S. J., 
 
 Librarian. 
 
 Holy Cross Academy, Dumbarton, 
 Washington, D. C., Dec. 19, 1915. 
 My dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 I have decided to make Xmas gifts of your 
 book to two special friends — so please send me 
 another copy — of course I will be minus my own 
 copy, but just now I don't feel like investing 
 in another copy. 
 
 I have not had time to read much in it, but 
 its makeup is beautiful. 
 Please send at once. 
 
 Yours in haste. 
 
 Sister M. Bertilde. 
 
 241 
 
Florence 
 
 Trinity College, 
 "Washington, D. C, Feb. 15, 1916. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Ryan, 
 Dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 Sister Superior bids me tell you that she likes 
 very much your book on ''Florence in Poetry, 
 History and Art." She will keep the copy 
 sent her for examination and will be glad to 
 have another copy mailed at your earliest con- 
 venience to Sister Superior Mary Borgia, Con- 
 ent of Notre Dame, Newton Street, Waltham, 
 Massachusetts. 
 
 Kindly mail the bill for both to Trinity Col- 
 lege, and our treasurer will settle it at once. 
 
 The illustrations of your beautiful book are 
 of special interest to Trinity College, since 
 our O'Connor Art Gallery contains fine copies 
 of many of the great pictures in Florence. 
 Sometime when you are in Washington come in 
 and see us. 
 
 This copy of the book has been given me for 
 the library and I am happy to have it at hand. 
 
 With all good wishes, dear Miss Ryan, I re- 
 main 
 
 Sincerely yours. 
 
 Sister Mary Patricia, 
 S. N. D. 
 
 242 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 Jesuits' College, 140 Baronne St. 
 New Orleans, La., Feb. 5, 1916. 
 Miss S. A. Eyan, 
 Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 I have made an all day trip through Florence 
 with your interesting * ' Florence in Poetry, His- 
 tory and Art." Needless to say, I was greatly 
 pleased. Your work deserves unstinted praise 
 and I hope many will be as delighted as I was 
 in the perusal. I enclose a small donation and 
 wish I could send you a large one. I remain 
 Respectfully, 
 
 John D. Foulhes, S. J. 
 
 Academy of the Sacred Heart, 
 Eden Hall, Torresdale, Pa. 
 December 16, 1916. 
 My dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 In answer to your letter of December 9th, I 
 am happy to say that we have had a copy of 
 '^Florence in Poetry, History and Art" in our 
 library ever since its publication, and have 
 found it most suggestive and helpful, greatly 
 in demand amongst those of our children who 
 study the History of Art. 
 
 I trust you will be successful in making your 
 book more generally known in this part of the 
 country. 
 
 Sincerely yours. 
 Per E. C. E. Burnett, R. S. H. 
 
 Enclosed please find check for book sent. 
 243 
 
Florence 
 
 St. Mary's College, 
 Notre Dame, Indiana. 
 My dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 Reverend Mother is so pleased with your 
 book "Florence in Poetry, History and Art" 
 that she is going to have it reviewed in the 
 college paper, ''The Chimes." 
 Cordially yours. 
 
 Sister Mary WilUbrord. 
 
 Ursuline College and Academy. 
 Springfield, 111., Feb. 5, 1916.. 
 Miss Sara Ryan, 
 Dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 Enclosed please find check in payment for 
 your book "Florence in Poetry, History and 
 Art." 
 It certainly does honor to its author. 
 Respectfully, 
 Sister M. Angela, Superior. 
 
 Seton Hill Schools. 
 Greensbury, Penn., Jan. 31, 1917. 
 My dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 Please find enclosed my check in payment of 
 your very charming work on "Florence in 
 Poetry, History and Art." 
 
 Wishing you continued success in your lit- 
 erary efforts, I am 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 Sister M. Francesca. 
 
 244 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 Holy Cross College 
 Brookland, D. C. 
 Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 I enclose P. 0. order for the book on Flor- 
 ence. I shall put it on the library table and do 
 what I can to widen its circulation, by calling 
 the attention of others to its excellence. 
 
 Thanking you for sending me the work, I am 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 J. A. Burns, C. 8. C. 
 
 Convent of the Sacred Heart, 
 Manhattanville, City of New York. 
 February 15, 1917. 
 Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 Reverend Mother has been away from home ; 
 she tells me now to ask you to send her two 
 other copies of your book, which she finds 
 planned in a helpful manner for the student. 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 E. M. Kenny, Sec'y. 
 
 College of Saint Elizabeth, 
 Convent Station, New Jersey. 
 Dec. 14, 1915. 
 My Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 Your copy of "Florence in Poetry" was duly 
 received. Kindly send me three more copies. 
 Send bill to 
 
 Yours truly. 
 
 Sister M. Pauline. 
 
 245 
 
Florence 
 
 Saint Mary's College and Academy 
 
 Monroe, Mich., Nov. 18, 1915. 
 
 Please find draft in payment for the book on 
 
 Florence sent us recently. The matter and 
 
 illustrations make your book very interesting 
 
 and attractive. 
 
 Very sincerely, 
 
 Mother Superior. 
 
 Georgetown Convent 
 1500 35th St., Washington, D. C. 
 Miss Eyan: 
 
 I find our check was sent to you without a 
 line. We are pleased to have your book for the 
 Art Class. 
 
 Yours in Corde Jesu, 
 Sr. M. Benedicta Mullen, Superior. 
 
 J. M. J. 
 
 Ursuline Nuns, 
 Toledo, Ohio, Dec. 17, 1915. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Eyan, Chicago. 
 My Dear Miss Eyan : 
 
 I beg your pardon for my neglect in return- 
 ing your precious criticisms. 
 
 The book speaks for itself. It is a treasury 
 of Art. Trusting the Christmas season may 
 bring you many purchasers, I am 
 Yours gratefully. 
 
 Sister Mary Bernard. 
 Enclosed find check. 
 
 246 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 J. M. J. 
 
 St. Joseph's Academy, 
 St. Louis, Mo. February 24, 1917. 
 Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 Kindly pardon my delay in returning your 
 good testimonials and the remittance for your 
 very good book, "Florence in Poetry, History 
 and Art." 
 
 I am sure we shall enjoy it thoroughly and 
 derive profit from it. There is much that is 
 valuable to teachers and students gathered into 
 small compass and given a beautiful setting by 
 your labor and talent. 
 
 May you find full measure of success in put- 
 ting your book where it will help others. 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 8r. Agnes Gonzaga Ryan. 
 Kindly send me another copy. 
 
 Board of Education, 
 City of Chicago, May 26, 1913. 
 My Dear Miss Ryan: 
 
 It is a pleasure to me to see one of our Chi- 
 cago teachers publishing a piece of work so 
 meritorious as is your "Florence in Poetry, 
 History and Art." I seem to have been revisit- 
 ing Florence, carried back by the pages of your 
 book. 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 Ella Flagg Young, 
 Superintendent of Schools. 
 
 247 
 
Florence 
 
 St. Joseph's Seminary, 
 Troy, N. Y. Feb. 22, 1917. 
 My Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 We greatly appreciate your splendid work on 
 Florence and regret that we cannot just now 
 take several copies. 
 
 Enclosed please find check for the copy sent. 
 Respectfully yours, 
 Per F C Mother M. Irene. 
 
 Redemptorist Fathers, 
 Immaculate Conception Seminary, 
 Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. 
 June 6, 1913. 
 Rev. P. E. Foerster, C. SS. R., 
 Rector St. Alphonsus Church, Chicago. 
 Reverend and Dear Father : 
 
 A hundred thanks for your kind gift, ' ' Flor- 
 ence in Poetry, History and Art." It is the 
 first addition to the Art department of our 
 library since coming to Oconomowoc. The 
 volume is worthy of the matter treated, which 
 is saying much, for Florence was the flower of 
 the Renaissance. 
 
 It is a happy way of treating Art Masters — 
 to have Masters of kindred Arts describe them. 
 I wish to thank you again for the gift. 
 
 Pardon my delay in acknowledging it, but I 
 was desirous of reading the book before writ- 
 ing. I intend, as soon as class closes, to make 
 myself better acquainted with the heirlooms of 
 
 248 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 the "City of the Medici," and shall take Miss 
 Sara Agnes Ryan as my guide. 
 Again thanking you, I remain 
 
 Your grateful Confrere, 
 
 T. F. Kenny, C. S8. R. 
 
 De Paul University, 1010 Webster Ave., 
 Chicago, Illinois, June 3, 1913. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Ryan, 
 Chicago, Illinois. 
 My Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 I must crave your pardon for not acknowl- 
 edging your handsome gift before this. I know 
 that you will forgive my seeming neglect. I 
 assure you I will treasure your gift. I hope it 
 will be read by many who will learn from its 
 pages the religious inspiration that guided the 
 doers of the deeds recorded in its pages. The 
 volume will be very useful to me in my w^ork in 
 the University. 
 
 As to any kindness shown by me in the time 
 of sorrow, I beg to assure you that I have 
 always felt that I never could do enough to 
 honor one whose life has been spent in so noble 
 a cause as that in which your dear departed sis- 
 ter, Sister Mary Priscilla, sacrificed her life. 
 
 Hoping you will accept my apologies because 
 of my many duties, and thanking you sincerely, 
 I beg to remain 
 
 Yours devotedly, 
 
 F. X. McCabe, C. M., LL. D. 
 
 249 
 
Florence 
 
 From the late Rev. Father Mullaney, pastor 
 of St. John's Church, Syracuse, N. Y. Father 
 Mullaney was a brother of the late Brother 
 Azarias, the gifted literateur. He himself 
 wrote a "Life of Dante" and he was very 
 familiar with Florence. 
 
 St. John's Rectory, 
 Syracuse, N. Y., December 15, 1914. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Ryan, Chicago, Illinois. 
 My Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 Kindly send to me 25 copies of your beautiful 
 ''Florence in Poetry, History and Art." I 
 want these copies for our teaching Sisters. 
 With best wishes, I remain 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 John F. Mullaney. 
 
 St. John's Rectory, 
 Syracuse, N. Y., January 27, 1915. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Ryan, Chicago, Illinois. 
 My Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 Enclosed please find check for the amount 
 rendered for "Beautiful Florence." Most of 
 these books I have sent to non-Catholics, and I 
 am sure they must be very much pleased with 
 scholarship, binding and general make-up of 
 the book. 
 
 I trust you will find encouragement to bring 
 out other books of the same style and finish. 
 Wishing you every success, I remain 
 Sincerely yours in Christ, 
 
 John J. Mullaney. 
 250 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 From Eev. George A. Thomas, C. SS. R., 
 pastor of St. Alphonsus Church, Chicago, 111. 
 
 "I read the book with care and with pure, 
 genuine pleasure and I am sincere when I say 
 you have done your work well. I do not doubt 
 that it will be appreciated by all lovers of art, 
 and I hope it will find its way into the homes 
 and libraries of all classes of people." 
 
 From the widow of Richard Watson Gilder, 
 the poet and late editor of the Century Maga- 
 zine. Mrs. Gilder herself was a literateur and 
 an artist of merit : 
 
 24 Gramercy Park, 
 New York, N. Y., June 13, 1913. 
 Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 Thank you for your pretty book of pictures 
 and poems of beautiful Florence. I am going 
 to ask you to send one to my niece, Contessa 
 Edith Rucellai, Campi Bizenzio, Florence, Italy. 
 It was at the Rucellai Villa (about five miles 
 from the Duomo) that Mr. Gilder wrote his ''A 
 Day in Tuscany" — P. 295. I think they would 
 like to have the book for their lovely American- 
 Italian children. With thanks, 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Helena De Kay Gilder. 
 
 Please let me know how much I owe for the 
 book and postage to ''Four Brooks Farm," Lee, 
 Mass., and greatly oblige me. H. G. 
 
 251 
 
Florence 
 
 From Mr. John Albee, author and philos- 
 opher, a member of the Concord School of 
 Philosophy. He wrote "Remembrances of 
 Emerson": 
 
 Silver Lake, N. H., June 15, 1913. 
 My Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 You must excuse my long delay in acknowl- 
 edgment of your beautiful volume on Florence. 
 I am sure you will excuse me when I tell you 
 I am an invalid. 
 
 I can read, but have very few days when I am 
 able to write. I have read your book and 
 enjoyed it very much. It seems to me its prose 
 and verse are happily combined and arranged, 
 and no good reader can fail to obtain an excel- 
 lent general view of Italian Art and Literature. 
 
 From a winter 's residence in Rome I learned 
 something of Italian Art, but I am shamefully 
 ignorant of Italian literature. I know merely 
 names and what they stand for, so I was 
 impressed by your copious quotations. 
 
 I hope your work will have great success, 
 such as it deserves by its fruitful studies. 
 
 With thanks for your book and best wishes 
 for all your pen finds to do, I am 
 Cordially yours, 
 
 J. Alhee. 
 
 252 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 American Library Association, 
 
 Publishing Board, 
 Chicago, Illinois, June 5, 1913. 
 A. L. A. Periodical Cards. 
 Wm. Stetson Merrill, Editor. 
 The Newberry Library, Chicago. 
 Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 I have seen a copy of your book of Florence 
 and congratulate you upon it. I have recom- 
 mended its purchase by the Newberry Library. 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 Wm. Stetson Merrill. 
 
 ''Miss Ryan has charmingly described the 
 city of her love and of her pride." — American 
 
 Art News. 
 
 "It is a sample of high-class book-making." 
 — W. Doxey, Editorial Dept. Rand, McNally 
 Co., Chicago. 
 
 Many more letters of appreciation equally 
 cordial were received, but unfortunately they 
 were mislaid before copies of them were 
 secured. Nevertheless, the senders may be 
 assured of their grateful reception. 
 
 253 
 
Florence 
 
 Among the subscribers for the book are the 
 following : 
 
 The Catholic University of America, Wash- 
 ington, D. C. 
 
 Academy of the Visitation, Washington, D. C. 
 
 Holy Cross Academy, Dumbarton, Washing- 
 ton, D. C. 
 
 St. Cecilia's Academy, Washington, D. C. 
 
 College of the Holy Cross, Washington, D. C. 
 
 St. John's College, Washington, D. C. 
 
 Gonzaga College, Washington, D. C. 
 
 Georgetown Academy of the Visitation, 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 Georgetown University, Washington, D. C. 
 
 Trinity College, Washington, D. C. 
 
 Mt. De Sales Academy of the Visitation, 
 Catonsville, Baltimore, Md. 
 
 Notre Dame of Maryland College, Baltimore, 
 Maryland. 
 
 Mt. St. Mary's Seminary, Emmitsburg, Md. 
 
 St. Joseph's College, Emmitsburg, Md. 
 
 Convent of the Sacred Heart, Rochester, 
 N. Y. 
 
 Nazareth Academy and Convent, Rochester, 
 N. Y. 
 
 Convent of the Sacred Heart, Kenwood, 
 Albany, N. Y. 
 
 Academy of the Sisters of the Holy Names, 
 Albany, N. Y. 
 
 Seminary of Our Lady of Angels, Niagara 
 University, N. Y. 
 
 254 
 
In Poetey, Hktoey akd Aet. 
 
 St. Joseph's Seminary, Troy, N. Y. 
 
 St. John's College, Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
 Marj-mount Academy, Tarrj-town-on-the- 
 Hudson, N. Y. 
 
 Mt. St. Vincent-on-the-Hudson, New York 
 City, X. Y. 
 
 Academy of the Sacred Heart, University 
 Av., N. Y. city. 
 
 Convent of the Sacred Heart, Manhattanville, 
 City of New York, N. Y. 
 
 Mt. Mercy Academy, Cazenovia Park, Buf- 
 falo, N. Y. 
 
 Holy Angels Academy, Buffalo, N. Y. 
 
 Mt. St. Mary-on-the-Hudson, Newburgh, Buf- 
 falo, N. Y. 
 
 Ladycliff-on-Hudson Academy, Highland 
 Falls, *N. Y. 
 
 Mt. St. Joseph Collegiate Institute, Chestnut 
 Hill, Philadelphia, Pa. ' 
 
 St. Mar}''s Academy, Logan, Philadelphia, 
 Pa. * 
 
 Academy of the Sacred Heart, Philadelphia, 
 Pa. 
 
 Academy of the Sacred Heart, Eden Hall, 
 Torresdale, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
 St. Vincent's College, Beatty, Pa. 
 
 St. Xavier's Academy, Beatty, Pa. 
 
 Mt. Aloysius Academy, Cresson, Cambria 
 County, Pa. 
 
 St. Mary's Convent, Mt. Mercy, Pitts- 
 burgh, Pa. 
 
 255 
 
Florence 
 
 Ursuline Convent and Mother House, Pitts- 
 burgh, Pa. 
 
 Sacred Heart Academy, Lancaster, Pa. 
 
 Villa Maria, West Chester, Pa. 
 
 Duquesne University, Pittsburgh, Pa. 
 
 St. Joseph's Academy of Music and Art, 
 Seton Hill, Greensburg, Pa. 
 
 St. Joseph's Convent, St. Mary's, Pa. 
 
 Mt. de Chantal Academy, Wheeling, W. Va. 
 
 Notre Dame Academy, Boston, Mass. 
 
 Notre Dame Academy, Roxbury, Mass. 
 
 Holy Cross College, Worcester, Mass. 
 
 Notre Dame Convent, Waltham, Mass. 
 
 St. Elizabeth College, Convent Station, N. J. 
 
 Mount St. Dominic Academy, Caldwell, N. J. 
 
 College of the Immaculate Conception, Mt. 
 Maria, Canton, Ohio. 
 
 Notre Dame Academy, Dayton, Ohio. 
 
 Notre Dame Academy, Hamilton, Ohio. 
 
 Notre Dame Convent, Grandin Road, Cincin- 
 nati, Ohio. 
 
 Notre Dame Convent, Court St., Cincinnati, 
 Ohio. 
 
 Passionist Monastery of the Holy Cross, Cin- 
 cinnati, Ohio. 
 
 Convent of Notre Dame, East Sixth Street, 
 Cincinnati, Ohio. 
 
 St. Xaxier's College, Cincinnati, Ohio. 
 
 College and Academy of the Sacred Heart, 
 Cincinnati, Ohio. 
 
 Ursuline Academy of the Holy Name, 
 
 Youngstown, 0. 
 
 256 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 Academy of Our Lady of Lourdes, Cleveland, 
 Ohio. 
 
 St. Ignatius College, Cleveland, Ohio. 
 
 College of the Sacred Heart, Cleveland, Ohio. 
 
 St. Mary's Ursuline Academy, Cleveland, 
 Ohio. 
 
 Ursuline Academy, St. Martin's, Brown 
 County, Ohio. 
 
 Ursuline Convent of the Sacred Heart, 
 Toledo, Ohio. 
 
 Ursuline College, Tiffin, Ohio. 
 
 St. Joseph Academy, Columbus, Ohio. 
 
 College, St. Mary's of the Woods, Indiana. 
 
 St. John's Academy, Indianapolis, Indiana. 
 
 St. Mary's College, Notre Dame, Indiana. 
 
 St. Joseph's Academy, Adrian, Mich. 
 
 Sacred Heart Academy, Grand Rapids, Mich. 
 
 St. Mary's College, Monroe, Mich. 
 
 University of Detroit, Detroit, Mich. 
 
 Academy of the Sacred Heart, Detroit, Mich. 
 
 St. Clara College, Sinsinawa Mound, Wis. 
 
 Holy Rosary Academy, Corliss, AVis. 
 
 Sacred Heart Academy, Madison, Wis. 
 
 St. Catherine's Academy, Racine, Wis. 
 
 Marquette University, Milwaukee, Wis. 
 
 St. Francis Seminary, Milwaukee, Wis. 
 
 Notre Dame Convent and Boarding School, 
 Milwaukee, Wis. 
 
 Campion College, Prairie du Chien, Wis. 
 
 De La Salle Institute, Chicago, 111. 
 
 Academy of Our Lady of Providence, Chi- 
 cago, 111. 
 
 257 
 
Florence 
 
 Convent of the Holy Child, Chicago, 111. 
 
 St. Cyril's College, Chicago, 111. 
 
 St. Mary's High School, Chicago, 111. 
 
 Immaculate Conception Convent, Chicago, 111. 
 
 Loyola University, Chicago, 111. 
 
 St. Ignatius College, Chicago, 111. 
 
 St. Joseph's Academy and College, Spring- 
 field, 111. 
 
 Convent of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart, 
 Springfield, 111. 
 
 Visitation Academy, Evanston, 111. 
 
 St. Angela's Academy, Morris, 111. 
 
 St. Viator's College, Bourbonnais Grove, 111. 
 
 Visitation Academy, St. Paul, Minn. 
 
 St. Thomas College, St. Paul, Minn. 
 
 St. Paul Seminary, St. Paul, Minn. 
 
 St. Joseph's Academy, St. Paul, Minn. 
 
 Holy Rosary Convent, Minneapolis, Minn. 
 
 Mt. St. Joseph College, Dubuque, Iowa. 
 
 Immaculate Conception Academy, Daven- 
 port, Iowa. 
 
 Ursuline Academy, New Orleans, La. 
 
 Jesuit College, New Orleans, La. 
 
 Loretto Academy, St. Louis, Mo. 
 
 Academy of the Visitation, St. Louis, Mo. 
 
 St, Louis University, St. Louis, Mo. 
 
 Kenrick Seminary, St. Louis, Mo. 
 
 Academy of the Sacred Heart, St. Louis, Mo. 
 
 St. Joseph's Academy, St. Louis, Mo. 
 
 Arcadia College and Ursuline Academy, 
 Arcadia, Mo. 
 
 258 
 
In Poetry, History and Art. 
 
 Loretto Heights Academy, Loretto, Colo. 
 
 Mt. Carmel Academy, Wichita, Kansas. 
 
 College of St. Mary's, St. Mary's, Kansas. 
 
 St. Mary's Academy, Leavenworth, Kansas. 
 
 Creighton University, Omaha, Neb. 
 
 St. Mary's Academy, Salt Lake City, Utah. 
 
 St. Mary's Academy, Austin, Texas. 
 
 Ursuline Academy, Dallas, Texas. 
 
 University of Dallas, Dallas, Texas. 
 
 St. Agnes Academy, Houston, Texas. 
 
 Academy of the Sacred Heart, Galveston, 
 Texas. 
 
 Ursuline Academy, Galveston, Texas. 
 
 College and Academy of the Licarnate Word, 
 Alamo Heights, San Antonio, Texas. 
 
 Ursuline College, San Antonio, Texas. 
 
 St. Patrick's Academy, San Antonio, Texas. 
 
 College of Notre Dame, San Jose, Calif. 
 
 St. Ignatius University, San Francisco, Calif. 
 
 Presentation Convent, San Francisco, Calif. 
 
 Academy of Sacred Heart, San Francisco, 
 Calif. 
 
 Ursuline Community, Santa Eosa, Calif. 
 
 Dominican College, San Rafael, Calif. 
 
 Academy of Our Lady of Peace, San Diego, 
 Calif. 
 
 College of the Holy Name, Oakland, Calif. 
 
 St. Mary's Academy and College, Portland, 
 Oregon. 
 
 Loretto College, Niagara Falls, Canada. 
 
 Villa Maria College, Montreal, Canada. 
 
 259 
 
FLORENCE 
 
 IN POETRY, HISTORY AND ART 
 
 By Sara Agnes Ryan 
 
 with seventy beautiful half- 
 tone illustrations, India tint, egg-shell paper, 
 gilt top, uncut leaves, wrapped in waxed paper 
 and boxed. Price $3.50. 
 
 Please order direct from Miss Ryan, 832 
 Windsor Ave., Chicago, and carriage will be 
 prepaid. 
 
Ill propa ration — 
 
 VENICE 
 
 IN POETRY, HISTORY AND ART 
 
 By Sara Agnes Ryan 
 
 Publishing Department 
 
 A. C. McClurg & Co., 
 
 330-352 East Ohio Street, 
 
 Chicago, Illinois. June 25, 1914. 
 Miss Sara Agnes Ryan. 
 Dear Miss Ryan : 
 
 We have no hesitation in saying that you 
 have produced a very interesting work in 
 "Venice in Poetry, History and Art." 
 
 Undoubtedl}'^ the thinking and cultured class 
 of travelers abroad will appreciate it when it 
 is eventually put into book form. 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 A. C. McClurg & Co. 
 
[THE END] 
 
 1 
 

 
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