Oj ' ' » 4 ■> % .^^ '/>. 95. " X.x^^ 9^/"' -■^.^ \ X'^ 0-, '\/%. . .- ^'/^ , , /% . ...... CP" Xp\\' r' - .0^ >A0* '% & V «. ^^^°- 95;". ■^.'S,' c,'^ ^ "\.^ rf-^ 4^ ^ "^..^^ >i' "51 CV. < -,<. .0^ ^ ^ ^ . ' / . . s ■>• A^' c3 ^^ /■'r. s^^ aO" <^ " /:::>- \# c_V^ <- "/.Is^ A<^ W. IR.O]B]E..lELTS€)I^ ID.IO. NEW YoRlC PUBI.ISM.K0 m* *J. A; J.HA.B.rE F^ . r'J-u, ■,-.-,; ■■^^W-'.-' :.:::. :""li'"^^'«?*Si!§ THE FIRST DISCOVEP^T OF AMilBlRlCiV by fOILiLTMilBiITi PODLtsltEl) nv J. f^ ■>. HARF EB^ . J" J ;,,>,■ 'H VIWVJ- YORK F'^ /;.■,■.'' :!J €(r?]LTLTM:MTLT§ //v,,v//A/„/ tl,,- Pt^-.h, .■/{.;,.'■ ■ff/f X.u- U'r/.i /, t-IIOt.UHBU BY J.Xi J. HAl*.rE P, . Harper's Stereotype Edition, with Engravings. THE ^^,*;- HISTORY OF THE DISCOVERY AND SETTLEMENT OP AMERICA BY WILLIAM ROBERTSON, D.D. PRINCIPAL OF THE UNIVERSITY AT EDINBURGH, ETC. ETC. WITH AN ACCOUNT OF HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. TO WHICH ARE ADDED QUESTIONS FOR THE EXAMINATION OF STUDENTS BY JOHN FROST, A.M. COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME NEW-YORK : PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NO. 82 CLIFF-STREET. 18 37. / l^ZI THE lilFC OF DR. WM. ROBERTSON. ^ -y William Robertson, the eldest son of the Reverend William Robert- son, was born on the 8th of September, 1721, at Borthwick, in the shire of Mid Lothian, of which parish his father was the minister. By the paternal line he descended from a respectable family in the county of Fife, a branch of that which, for many generations, possessed the estate of Struan, vn Perthshire. His mother was the daughter of David Pitcairn, esq. of Dreghorn. He had one brother and six sisters ; all of whom were well settled in life, and most of whom lived to an advanced age. It was at the parochial school of Borthwick that Robertson received the initiatory part of his education ; but as soon as he was sufficiently forward to enter on the study of the learned languages, he was removed to the school of Dalkeith. The latter seminary was then under the superintend- ence of Mr. Leslie, whose eminence as a teacher was such as to attract pupils from all parts of Scotland ; and the father of Robertson was con- sequently induced to send him to Dalkeith rather than to the Scottish metropolis. When the future historian was twelve years old, his father was trans- ferred from BortliAvick ro one of the churches of Edinburgh. In the autumn of 1733 he joined his parents ; and, in October, he was admitted into the college and university of the northern capital. Whatever were his first attempts at composition, and it is probable they were many, nothing has been preserved to show how early he began to exercise his talents, or with what degree of rapidity those talents were expanded. It is certain, however, that in the pursuit of knowledge he displayed that ardour and perseverance without which nothing great will ever be accomplished. A strong proof of this is afforded by some of his early commonplace books, which bear the dates of 1735, 1736, and 1737. The motto, vita sine Uteris mors est, which he prefixed to these books, sufficiently indicates by what an honourable ambition and love of literature he was inspired at a very tender and generally thoughtless age. The boy of fourteen, who can cherish the feeling which is implied by this motto, gives promise that his manhood will reflect lustre on himself and on the country of his birth. Among the men of emmence, by whose instructions he profited at the university, were sir John Pringle, afterwards president of the Royal Society, but then professor of moral philosophy; Maclaunn, justly cele brated for the extent of his mathematical skill and the punty of his style and Dr. Stevenson, the learned and indefatigable professor of logic. To the masterly prelections of the latter, especially to his illustrations of the poetics of Aristotle, and of Longinus on the Sublime, Robertson often declared that he considered himself to be more deeply indebted than to any circumstance in the course of his academical career. It was indeed not towards the abstract sciences that the bent of his genius was directed. To mathematical and mechanical speculations he seems to have been at least cold, perhaps averse. Neither was he remarkable for metaphysical acuteness. His delight was to trace and elucidate moral and religious truths, to apply the process of reasoning to subjects more immediately con» iv THE LIFE OF nected with the every-day business of existence, to search into the causes and effects of historical events, to expatiate amidst the perennial beauties of classic lore, and, by meditating on the great models of oratorical art, to lender himself master of all the powerful resources of a ready and persua- sive eloquence. With respect to eloquence, the possession of it was in fact indispensable to one who, as m all probability was the case with Robertson, had deter- mined tD assume a prominent station among the pastors and leaders of the Scottish church. The mere knowledge ot rules, however, or even a tho- rough acquaintance with the rich stores of ancient and modern oratorj', will not suffice to tbrm an orator. It is by use alone tliat facility of speech and promptitude ot reply can be acquired. It is the collision of minds which strikes out the " thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." During the last years, therelore, of his residing at college, he joined with some of his contemporaries in establishing a society, the avowed purpose of which, as we are told by Mr. Stewart, was " to cultivate the study of elocution, and to prepare themselves, by the habits of extemporaiy dis- cussion and debate, tor conducting the business of popular assemblies." Of the colleagues of Robertson in this society many ultimately rose, like himself, to high reputation. Among them were Cleghorn, subsequently professor of moral philosophy at Edinburgh, Dr. John Blair, who became a member of the Royal Society, and a prebendary of Westminstpr, and who gave to the public " The Chronology and History of the World," WiJkie, the author of the Epigoniad, a faulty poem, but above cciAe'.upt, Home, the author of Douglas, and Dr. Erskine, who, in atler life, was at once the coadjutor, rival, opponent, and friend of Robertson. This society continued in existence, and, no doubt, was beneficial to its members, till it was broken up by a quarrel, which had its rise from a reli- gious source, and which, consequently, was of more than common bitter- ness. In 1741 that extraordinary man Whitefield, who was then in the zenith of his fame, paid a visit to Scotland, and his preaching excited in that country a feeling equally as strong as it had excited in England. On the subject of his merit violent parties immediately sprang up, especially among the clergy. By the one side he was considered as a clerical won- der, a kind of apostle, from whose evangelical labours the happiest result might be expected; by the other side he was calumniated as an impostor, and a worthless private character, while some, in the excess of their holy zeal, did not scruple to stigmatize him, even from the pulpit, as " an agent of the devil." It was natural that this question should be debated by Robertson and his associates; and it was, perhaps, not less natural that it should be argued with so much heat and asperity as not only to cause the dissolution of the society, but even, it is said, to interrupt, tor some time, the intercourse of the members as private individuals. Of those who entertained doubts with regard to the personal conduct of Whitefield, and the utility of his efforts, Robertson was one. From his acknowledged moderation and evenness of temper we may, however, infer that his hos- tility to the preacher was carried on in a liberal spirit, and that he did not think it either necessary or decorous to brand him as an agent of the prince of darkness. To excel in his written style as much as in his oral was one object of his ambition. The practice of clothing in an English dress the standard works of the ancients has beep often recommended, as conducive to the improve- ment of style ; and he seems to have believed it to be so, for it was adopted by him. He carried it so far as to entertain serious thoughts ot preparing for the press a version of Marcus Antoninus. His scheme was, however, frustrated by the appearance of an anonymous translation at , Glasgow. " In making choice of this author," says Mr. Stewart, "he was probably not a little influenced by that partiality with which (among the DR. ROBERTSON. v writers of heathen moralists) he always regarded the remains of the stoical philosophy." Having completed his academic course, and richly stored his mind, he quitted the university, and, in 1741, before he had quite attained the age of twenty, a license to preach the gospel was given to him by the presby- tery of Dalkeith. This kind of license, which does not authorize to administer the sacraments or to undertake the cure of souls, is granted to laymen ; and the person who receives it may be considered as being placed by it in a state of probation. After the lapse of two years, from the period of his leaving the univer- sity, when he was yet little more than twenty-two, he was, in 1743, pre- sented, by the Earl of Hopetoun, to the living of Gladsmuir. Of this pre- ferment the yearly value was not more than one hundred pounds. Scanty, however, as were its emoluments, it was most opportunely bestowed. He had not long resided at Gladsmuir when an unexpected and melancholy event occurred, which put to the trial at once his firmness and his benevo- lence. His father and mother expired within a few hours of each other, leaving behind them a family of six daughters and one son, without the means of providing for their education and maintenance. On this occa- sion Robertson acted in a manner which bore irrefragable testimony to the goodness of his heart, and which was also, as Mr. Stewart justly observes, "strongly marked with that manly decision in his plans, and that perse- vering steadiness in their execution, which were the characteristic features of his mind." Regardless of the privations to which he must necessarily submit, and the interruption which his literary and other projects must experience, he received his father's family into his house at Gladsmuir, educated his sisters under his own roof, and retained them there till oppor- tunities arose of settling them respectably in the world. His merit is enhanced by the circumstance of his fraternal affection having imposed on him a sacrifice far more painful than that of riches or fame. He was ten- derly attached to his cousin Miss Mary Nesbit, daughter of the Reverend Mr. Nesbit, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, and his attachment was returned ; but it was not till 1751, when his family had ceased to stand in need of his protecting care, that he thought himself at liberty to complete a union which had, for several years, been the object of his ardent wishes. It is pleasant to know that the wife whom he so tardily obtained was every way worthy of such a husband, and that he suffered no interruption of his domestic happiness. While he was laudably occupied in promoting the welfare of his orphan relatives, the rebellion broke out in Scotland. " It afforded him," says Mr. Stewart, " an opportunity of evincing the sincerity of that zeal for the civil and religious liberties of his country, which he had imbibed with the first principles of his education; and which afterwards, at the distance of more than forty years, when he was called on to employ his eloquence in the national commemoration of the revolution, seemed to rekindle the fires of his youth. His situation as a country clergyman confined indeed his patriotic exertions within a narrow sphere ; but even here his conduct was guided by a mind superior to the scene in which he acted. On oneocca sion (when the capital was in dangerof falling into the hands of the rebels) the present state of public affairs appeared so critical that he thought him- self justified in laying aside for a time the pacific habits of his profession, and in quitting his parochial residence at Gladsmuir to join the volunteers of Edinburgh. And when, at last, it was determined that the city should be surrendered, he was one of the small band who repaired to Hadding- ton, and offered their services to the commander of His Majesty's forces." Widi the exce})tion of this one troubled interval he c()ntinued, for many years, in the tranquil performance of his pastoral duties. The hours of his leisure were devoted to literary researches and to laying the solid foun- Ti THE LIFE OF dation of future eminence. It was bis practice to rise early, and to read and write much before breakfast. The remainder of the day he devoted to the claims of his jirofession. As a minister of the gospel he was consci- entious and active ; not confining; himself to the mere routine of his sacred office, but endeavouring by every means to extend the comforts and influ- ence of religion. In the summer months it was customary for him, previous to the commencement of the church service, to assemble the youtht'ui part of his flock for the purpose of explaining to them the doctrines of (he catechism. By his zeal, his punctuality, and the suavity of his behaviour, he won the love of his parishioners ; so that, in all their difficulties, it was to him that they resorted for consolation and for counsel. His pulpit elo- quence was such as afforded delight to all classes of people ; because, while it was adorned with those graces of style which are required to satisfy men of judgment and taste, it was rendered level to the compre- hension of his humblest hearers, by the clearness of its argument and the perspicuity of its language. The time at length arrived when the talents of Robertson were to be displayed on a more extensive and public scene of action, and he was to assume a leading share in the government of the Scottish church. He did not, however, come forward among his colleagues till he had attained the mature age of thirty, and had thoroughly prepared hiinself to sustain his new and important part with untiring vigour and a decisive effect. It was on the question of patronage that he first exerted his powers of eloquence in a deliberative assembly. To enable the mere English reader to comprehend this subject, it may, perhaps, be proper to give some account of the constitution of the church of Scotland, and also of the right of patronage, out of which arose the contentions and heartburnings by which the church was disturbed for a considerable period. The church of Scotland is ruled by a series of judicatories, rising by regular gradation from the kirk session, or parochial consistory, which is the lowest in order, to the general assembly, which is the highest. The kirk session is composed of the ministers and lay elders of parishes ; a presbj'tery is formed of the ministers cf contiguous parishes, with certain representatives from the kirk sessions ; and a provincial synod is consti- tuted by the union of a plurality of presbyteries. Crowning the whole is the general assembly. This body consists of three hundred and sixty-four members, of whom two hundred and two are ministers, and the remainder are laymen. Of this number two hundred and one ministers and eighty- nine lay elders are sent by the presbyteries ; the royal boroughs elect sixty-seven laymen ; the universities depute five persons, who may be either ecclesiastics or laj^men ; and the Scottish church of Campvere in Holland supplies two deputies, the one lay and the other clerical. The annual sittings of the assembly are limited to ten days ; bijt whatever busi- ness it has left unsettled is transacted by a committee of the whole house (called the commission), which, in the course of the year, has four stated meetings. Among the lay members of the assembly are men of the high- est consequence in the kingdom ; lawyers, judges, and sometimes nobles Though all the ministers in Scotland are on a perfect equality with each other, yet each individual and each judicatory is bound to yield a prompt obedience to the superintending authority, and each court must punctually lay the record of its proceedings before the tribunal which is next in rank above it ; but the general assembly has the power of deciding without appeal, of enforcing, uncontrolled, its decrees, and, with the concurrence of a majority of the presbyteries, of enacting laws for the government of the Scottish church. The history of clerical patronage in Scotland since the overthrow of Catholicism, and of the struggles to which it has given rise, has been traced DR. ROBERTSON. vii with so much clearness by Dr. Gleig: that, though the passage is of some lei^th, I shall give it in his own words. " The Reformation in Scotland,'* says he, " was irregular and tumultuous ; and the great object of the pow- erful aristocracy of that kingdom seems to have been rather to get posses- sion of the tithes, and the lands of the dignified cler^, than to purify the doctrine and reform the worship of the church. Of this Knox and the other reformed clergymen complained bitterly ; and their complaints were extorted from them by their own sufferings. Never, 1 believe, were the eitablished cler2:y of any Christian country reduced to such indigence as were those zealous and well meaning men, during the disastrous reign of queen Mary, and the minority of her son and successor ; while the pit- tance that was promised to them, instead of being regularly paid, was often seized by the rapacity of the regents and the powerful barons who adhered to their cause, and the ministers left to depend for their subsist- ence on the generosity of the people. "As nearly the whole of the ecclesiastical patronage of the kingdom had come into the possession of those barons, partly by inheritance from their ancestors, and partly with the church lands which, on the destruction of the monasteries, they had appropriated to themselves, it is not Avonder- ful that, in an age when men were very apt to confound fh i illegal and mischievous conduct of him who exercised an undoubted right with the natural cc.'^.sequences of that right itself, strong prejudices were excited in the m'nds of the clergy and more serious part of the people against the law which vested in such sacrilegious robbers the right of^ presentation to parish churches. It is not indeed very accurately known by whom minis- ters were nominated to vacant churches for thirty years after the com- mencement of the Reformation, when there was hardly any settled government in the church or in the state. In some parishes they were probably called by the general voice of the people ; in others, obtruded on them by the violence of the prevailing faction, to serve some political purpose of*^ the day ; and in others again appointed by the superintendent and his council : while in a fevv the legal patron may have exercised his right, without making any simoniacal contract with the presentee ; v/hich, however, there is reason to suspect was no uncommon practice.* " Hitherto the government of the Protestant church of Scouand had fluc- tuated from one form to another, sometimes assuming the appearance of epis- copacy under superintendents, and at other times being presbyterian in the strictest sense of the word. In the month of June, 1592, an act was passed, giving a legal sanction to the presbyterian form of government, and resto- ring the ancient law of patronage. By that act the patron of a vacant parish was authorized to present, to the presbyterj' comprehending that parish, a person properly qualified to be intrusted with the cure of souls ; and the presbytery was enjoined, after subjecting the presentee to certain trials and examinations, of which its members were constituted the judge.', 'to ordain and settle him as minister of the parish, provided no relevant objection should be stated to his life, doctrine, or qualifications.' " Though we are assured by the highest authority! that this right of patronage, thus conferred by the fundamental charter of presbyterian government in Scotland, was early complained of as" a grievance, it ap- pears to have been regularly exercised until the era of the rebellion against Charles I. during the establishment as well of the presbyterian as of the episcopal church. It was indeed abolished by the usurping powers, which in 1649 established in its stead what was then called * the gospel right of popular election ;' but at the restoration it was re-established together with episcopacy, and was regularly exercised until the revolution, when epis- * The reader will derive much valuable information on lliis subject from Dr. Cook's " History of the Reformation in Scotland." ♦ Dr. Hill, Principal of St. Mary's College, in the Uuiver- elty of St. AndreWf. Viii THE LIFE OF copacy was finally OTcrthrown, and, by an act passed on'lhe 26th of May, *tbe Presbyterian church, government, and discipline, by kirk sessions, presbyteries, provincial synods, and general assemblies,' established in its stead. The act of James VI. in 1592 was ' revived and confirmed in every head thereof, except in that part of it relating to patronages,' which were utterly abolished, though nothing was substituted in their stead until the 19lh of July immediately succeeding. " It was then statuted and declared, to use the language of the act, * that, in the vacancy of any particular church, and for supplying the same with a minister, the protestant heritors and elders are to name and propose the person to the v/hole congregation, to be either approven or disapproven by them ; and if they disapprove, they are to give in their reasons, to the effect the affairs may be cognosced by the presbytery of the bounds ; at whose judgment, and by whose determination, the calling and entry of every particular minister is to be ordered and concluded. In recompense of which rights of presentation the heritors of every parish were to pay to the patron six hundred merks (£33 6s. 8c?. sterling), against a certain time, and under certain proportions. " Whether this sum, which at that period was very considerable, was actually paid to the patrons of the several parishes, I know not ; but if it was, or indeed whether it was or not, had it been the intention of the legis- lature to produce dissension in the country, it could not have devised any thing better calculated to effect its purpose than this mode of appointing ministers to vacant churches. The heritors or landholders, if the price was paid, would naturally contend for the uncontrolled exercise of the right which they, and they only, had purchased ; but it is not by any means probable that at such a period they could often agree in their choice of a minister for a vacant parish. The elders, who were men of inferior rank and inferior education, would, by the envy of the low, when comparing themselves with the high, be prompted to thwart the wishes of their land- lords, which the act of parliament enabled them to do effectully ; and the consequence must have been that two or three candidates for every vacant church were at once proposed to the people of the parish for their appro- bation or disapprobation. The people might either give the preference to one of the candidates proposed, or reject them all, for reasons of which the members of the presbytery were constituted the judges ; and as it appears that the presbytery generally took part with the people, a source of ever- lasting contention was thus established between the country gentlemen and the parochial clergy ; an evil than which a greater cannot easily be con- ceived. For these, and other reasons, this ill digested law was repealed in the tenth year of the reign of queen Anne, and the right of patronage restored as in all other established churches. "By many of the clergy, however, patronage seems to have been con- sidered as an appendage of prelacy ; though it has obviously no greater connexion with that form of ecclesiastical polity than with any other that is capable of being allied with the state ; and, till after the year 1730, ministers continued to be settled in vacant parishes in the manner pre- scribed by the act of king William and queen Mary. ' Even then,' says Dr. Hill, ' the church courts, although they could not entirely disregard the law, continued, in many instances, to render it ineffectual, and by their authority sanctioned the prevailing prejudices of the people against it. They admitted, as an incontrovertible principle in presbyterian church government, that a presentee, although perfectly well qualified, and unex- ceptionable in his life and doctrine, was nevertheless inadmissible to his clerical office, till the concurrence of the people who were to be under his ministry had been regularly ascenained.' The form of expressing this concurrence was by the subscription of a paper termed ' a call ;' to which DR. ROBERTSON. a many of the old ministers paid greater respect than to the deed of pre- sentation by the patron of the church. " To render the call good, however, the unanimous consent of the land- holders, elders, and people, was not considered as necessary, nor indeed ever looked for. Nay, it appears that even a majority was not in all cases deemed indispensable ; for (he presbytery often admitted to his charge, and proceeded to ordain the presentee whose call, by whatever number of parishioners, appeared to them to afford a reasonable prospect of his be- coming, by prudent conduct, a useful parish minister. On the other hand, presbyteries sometimes set aside the presentation altogether, when they were not satisfied with the call ; and when the patron insisted on his right, and tiie presbytery continued inflexible, the general assembly was, in such cases, under the necessity either of compelling the members of the presby- tery, by ecclesiastical censures, to do their duty, or of appointing a com- mittee of its own body to relieve them from that duty, by ordaining the presentee, and inducting him into the vacant church. To compulsion re- course had seldom been had ; and the consequence was that individuals openly claimed a right to disobey the injunctions of the assembly, when- ever they conceived their disobedience justified by a principle of con- science. " Such was the state of ecclesiastical discipline in Scotland when Mr. Robertson first took an active part in the debates of the general assembly; and he very justly thought that its tendency was to overturn the presbyte rian establishment, and introduce in its stead a number of independent congregational churches. He therefore supported the law of patronage, not merely because it was part of the law of the land, but because he thought it the most expedient method of filling the vacant churches. It did not appear to him that the people at large are competent judges of those qualities which a minister should possess in order to be a useful teacher of the truth as it is in Jesus, or of the precepts of a sound morality. He more than suspected that if the candidates for churches were taught to consider their success in obtaining a settlement as depending on a popu- lar election, many of them would be tempted to adopt a manner of preach- ing calculated rather to please the people than to promote their edification He thought that there is little danger to be apprehended from the abuse of the law of patronage ; because the presentee must be chosen from among those whom the church had approved, and licensed as qualified for the office of a parish minister ; because a presentee cannot be admitted to the benefice if any relevant objection to his life or doctrine be proved against him ; and because, after ordination and admission, he is liable to be deposed for improper conduct, and the church declared vacant." Whatever may be thought of the merits of the cause which Robertson espoused, it is impossible to doubt that he was a conscientious supporter of it. To undertake its defence some strength of nerve was, indeed, required. Success seemed, at the outset, to be scarcely within the verge of proba- bility, and there was much danger of becoming unpopular. The result, nevertheless, gave ample proof of what may be accomplished by per- severance and talents. The first time that he came forward in the assem- bly was in May, 1751, when a debate arose on the conduct of a minister, who had disobeyed the sentence of a former assembly. Seizing this opportunity to enforce his principles of church discipline, Robertson, in a vigorous and eloquent speech, contended that if subordination were not rigidly maintained the presbyterian establishment would ultimately be overthrown, and, therefore, an exemplary punishment ought to be inflicted on the otfending party. But, though he was heard with attention, his argu- ments produced so little present effect that, on the house being divided, he was lef^t in a minority of no more than eleven against two hundred. Though this decision was not calculated to encourage him, be deter- X THE LIFE OF mined to persist, and an occurrence very soon took place which enabled niin to renew the contest. The presbytery of Durnferline having been eruilty of disobedience, in refusing to admit a minister to the church of Tnverlceithing, the commission of the assembly, which met in Noven)ber, ordered Ihem to cease from their opposition, and tlireatened, that, if they continued to be refractory, they should be subjected to a high censure Notwithstanding this, the presbytery again disobeyed the mandate of th*; superior court. Yet, instead of carrying its threat into efTect, the commis- sion came to a resolution that no censure should be inflicted. Such a resolution as this, after the commission had gone so far as to resort to threats, was at least absurd. So fair an opening as this circum- stance afforded was not neglected by Robertson. He accordingly drew up a protest, intituled, " Reasons of Dissent from the Judgment and Resolution of the Commission." This protest, which was signed by himself. Dr. Blair, Home, and a few other friends, is an able and closely reasoned pro- duction. It boldly declares the sentence of the commission to be incon- sistent with the nature and first principles of society ; charges the commis- sion itself with having, by that sentence, gone beyond its powers, and betrayed the privileges and deserted the doctrines of the constitution ; con- siders the impunity thus granted as encouraging and inviting contumacy , insists on the lawfulness and wisdom of ecclesiastical censures, and on the absolute necessity of preserving subordination and obedience in the church ; and, finally, maintains that the exercise of no man's private judgment can justify him in disturbing all public order, that he Avho becomes a member of a church ought to conform to its decrees, or, " if he hath rashly joined himself, that he is bound, as an honest man and a good Christian, to with- draw, and to keep his conscience pure and undefiled." When the assembly met, in 1752, the question was brought before it ; and Robertson supported the principles of his protest with such cogency of argument, that he won over a majority to his side, and achieved a com- plete triumph. The judgment of the commission was reversed, Mr. Gil- lespie, one of the ministers of the presbytei-y of Durnferline, was deposed from his pastoral ofhce, and ejected from his living, and three other indi- viduals were suspended from their judicative capacity in the superior ecclesiastical courts. Gillespie, whose only crime was that of being absent on the day appointed for the induction of the presentee, was a pious and amiable man, and his deposition occasioned so much dissatisfaction, that it gave rise to a new sect of dissenters, afterwards known by the appellafion of" the Presbytery of Relief;" a sect which still exists, and is of considerable magnitude. From this time, though it was not till the year 176? that he became its avowed leader, Robertson was, in fact, at the head of the assembly ; which body, for the whole period of his ascendancy, he contrived to keep steady to his principles. In this task he was ably seconded by Dr. Drysdale, one of the ministers of Edinburgh. It was not, however, without many strug- gles that he retained his pre-eminence. Those which took place in 1765 and 1768 were peculiarly violent ; motions having then been made, and vehemently contended for, to inquire into the causes of the rapid progress of secession from the established church ; and, in order to counteract them, to introduce a more popular mode of inducting the parochial ministers. From what is mentioned by sir Henry Wellwood, in his " Memoirs o{ Dr. Erskine," it appears that the exertions of Robertson were kept con- tinually on the stretch ; and that for his victory he was partly indebted to cautious management, and to patience which nothing could tire. " During Dr. Robertson's time," says he, " the struggle with the peoplewas perpe- tual ; and the opposition to presentees so extremely pertinacious, as in a great measure to engross the business of the assemblies. The parties in the church were then more equally balanced than they have ever been DR. ROBERTSON. xi since that period. The measures which were adopted, in the face of such perpetual opposition, it required no common talents to manage or defend ; especially considering that the leaders in opposition were such men as Dr. Dick, Dr. Macqueen, Dr. Erskine, Mr. Stevenson of St. Madois, Mr. Free- bairn ol' Dumbarton, Mr. Andrew Crosbie, &,c. &c. ; men of the tirst ability jp the country, and some of them possessed of an eloquence for a popular assembly to which there was nothing superior in the church or in the state. " Dr. Robertson's firmness was not easily shaken, but his caution and prudence never deserted him. He held it for a maxim, never wantonly to offend the prejudices of the people, and rather to endeavour to manage than directly to combat them. Some of the settlements in dispute were protracted tor eight or ten years together; and though the general assem- blies steadily pursued their system, and uniformly appointed the presentees to be inducted, their strongest sentences were not vindictive, and seldom went beyond the leading points to which they were directed." In 1757 an event happened, which afforded to him an opportunity of manifesfing the liberality of his spirit, and of exercising his influence over his coleagues, to moderate the vengeance which was threatened to be hurled on some of his brethren, for having been guilty of an act which was considered to be of the most profane nature. The chief offender was his friend Home, who was then minister of Athelstaneford. The crime con- sisted in Home having not only produced the tragedy of Douglas, but having also had the temerity to be present at the acting of it in the Edin- burgh theatre. With him were involved several of his clerical intimates, who, as much from a desire to share with him any odium or peril which might be incurred, as from a natural curiosity, had been induced to accom- pany him to the theatre on the first night of the peribrmance. The storra which this circumstance raised among the Scottish clergy can, in the pre- sent age, hardly be imagined. It seemed as if they had witnessed nothing' less than the abomination of desolation standing in the holy place. The presbytery of Edinburgh hastened to summon before its tribunal such of its members as had committed this heinous offence, and it likewise despatched circulars to the presbyteries in the vicinity, recommending rigorous measures against all clergymen who had desecrated themselves by appearing in the polluted region of the theatre. The alarm thus sounded a\. akened all the bigotry of the circumjacent presbyteries. That of Haddington, to which Home belonged, cited him and his friend Car- lyle, of Inveresk, to answer ibr their misconduct. That of Glasgow had no criminals to chastise, but it was resolved not to remain silent, and, there fore, with a zeal which assuredly Avas not according to knowledge, it ful- minated forth a series of resolutions on this appalling subject. It lamented *' the melancholy but notorious fact, that one, who is a minister of the church of Scotland, did himself write and compose a play entitled the Tragedy of Douglas, and got it to be acted in the theatre at Edinburgh ; and that he, with several other ministers of the church, were present, and some of them oftener than once, at the acting of the snid play before a numerous audience;" it affirmed, in direct hostility to historical evidencet that stage plays had " been looked upon by the "Christian church, in all ages, and of all different communions, as extremely prejudicial to religion 4nd morality; and, as a natural consequence from this, it called on the general assembly to reprobate publicly "a practice unbecoming the cha racter of clergymen, and of such pernicious tendency to the great interests of religion, industry, and virtue." The cry of the church was echoed from the press, angry disputants were arrayed on both sides, and a multitude of ephemeral pamphlets and pasquinades was rapidly produced. Throughout the v\'hole of the ecclesiastical proceedings, which on this occasion were instituted in the presbyteries and in the general assembly, xii THE LIFE OF Robertson exerted himself with more than common ardour and eloquence on behalf of his friends. Though, bein^ restrained by a promise which he had given to his father, he liad himself never been within the wails of a theatre, he did not hesitate to avow his belief that no culpability attached to the persons who were under prosecution, " The promise,"' said he, "which was exacted by the most indulgent of parents, I have hitherto religiously kept, and it is my intention to keep it till the day of my death. I am at the same time free to declare, that I perceive nothing sinful or inconsistent with the spirit of Christianity in writing a tragedy, which gives no encouragement to baseness or vice, and that I cannot concur in censuring my brethren for being present at the representation of such a tragedy, from which I was kept back by a promise, which, though sacred tome, is not obligatory on them." Wholly to overcome the prevalent spirit of bigotry was more than Robertson could accomplish, but it is believed to have been at least greatly mitigated by his laudable efforts. To his persuasive eloquence is attri- buted, and no doubt justly, the comparative mildness of the sentence which was ultimately pronounced. A declaratory act was passed by the assem- bly, forbidding the clergy to visit the theatres, but not extending the pro- hibition to the writing of plays. The silence of the assembly on the latter head was at least one point gained in favour of liberal principles. As to the offending ministers, some of them were rebuked by the presbyteries to which they belonged, and one or two of them were suspended from their otfice for a i'ew weeks. Home, however, being disgusted with the treatment which he had experienced, and having, perhaps, already been offered patronage in the Bnlisij metropolis, resigned his living of Athel- staneford in June. 1757, and fixed his residence in London. By the departure of Home, the Select Society, as it was called, lost one of its ablest members. This society was instituted at Edinburgh, in 1754, by Allan Ramsay, the painter, who was son to the poet of the same name. The object of it was philosophical and literary inquiry, and the improve- ment oi the members in the art of speaking. It held its meetings in the Advocates' Library, and met regularly every Friday evening, during the sittings of the court of session. At the outset it consisted of only fifteen persons, of whom Robertson was one. It, however, soon acquired such high reputation, that its list of associates was swelled to more than a hun- dred and thirty names ; among which were included those of the most eminent literary and political characters in the northern division of the kingdom. Of this number were Hume, Adam Smith, Wedderburn, after- wards Lord Chancellor, sir Gilliert Elliot, lord Elibank, lord Monboddo, lord Karnes, lord Woodhouselce, Adam Furguson, VVilkie, Dr. Cullen, and many others less gifted perhaps, but still rising far above mediocrity of talent. This society flourished in full vigour lor some years ; and is said by professor Stewart, to have produced such debates as have not oiten been heard in modern assemblies ; debates, Avhere the dignity of the speakers was not lowered by the intrigues of policy, or the intemperance of faction; and where the most splendid talents that have ever adorned this country were roused to their best exertions, by the libera! and enno- bling discussions of literature and philosophy." That such an assemblage of learning and genius must have done much towards diffusing through Scotland a taste for letters, there cannot be the shadow of a doubt. Robert- son took an active part, and was one of its presidents. As a speaker, it was remarked of him, that " whereas most of the others in their previous discourses exhausted the subject so nmch that there was no room for debate, he gave only such brief but artful sketches, as served to suggest ideas, without leading to a decision." By a few members of the society, a Review was attempted in 1755, the principal contributors to which were Blair, Smith, and Robertson. This D R. R O B E R T S O N. xUi undertaking was designed to form a record of the progress of Scottish lite- rature, and. occasionally, to criticise such English and foreign works as might appear to be worthy of notice. After having published two num- bers, which appeared in July and December, the reviewers were under the necessity ot relinquishing their plan. The failure is said to have arisea from their having lashed, with just but caustic severity, "some miserable effusions of fanaticism, which it was their wish to banish from the church." Their attack upon this mischievous trash excited such a vehement party outcry, that they thought it prudent to discontinue labours which, while they must fail of being nsetul, could not fail to expose them to vulgar odium, and involve them in endless disputes. Time, the great worker Oi changes, has since produced a marvellous alteration. At a period less than half a century later, the most prejudice- scorning and pungent of all Reviews was established in the Scottish capital, and was received with enthusiasm ! Tije hrst separate literary production of Robertson, or at least the first known production, was also laid before the public in 1755. It is a sermon which he preached in that year before the Scotch society for propagating Christian knowledge. He chose for his subject, "The situation of the world at the time of Christ's appearance, and its connexion with the suc- cess of his religion." Tliough this discourse never rises into a strain of glowing eloquence, it is a digiiihed and argumentative composition, in a chaste and animated style. If it does not flash and dazzle, it at least shines with a steady lustre. Its merit, indeed, affords us ample cause to regret that, before his removal from Gladsmuir, he lost a volume of ser- mons, on which much care is said to have been bestowed. The sole spe- cimen which remains of his talents as a preacher has passed through five editions, and has been translated into the German language by Mr. Edeling. The time now came when the high character for learning and talent, which Robertson had acquired among his friends, was to be ratified by the public voice. He had long been sedulously engaged on the History of Scotland, the plan of which he is said to have formed soon after his settling at Gladsmuir. By his letters to Lord Hailes we are, in some measure, enabled to trace his progress. It appears that as early as 1753 he had commenced his labours, and that by the summer of 1757 he had advanced as far as the narrative of Cowrie's conspiracy. In the spring of 1758 he visited London, to concert measures for publishing; and the His- tory, in two volumes, quarto, was given to the world on the first of Feb- ruary, 1759, about three months subsequent to the completion of it. While the last slieets were in the press, the author received, by diploma, the de- gree of Doctor of Divinity from the University of Edinburgh. At the period when Dr. Robertson commenced his career, this country could boast of few historians, possessed of philosophic views and an ele- gant style. Rapin, who, besides, wrote in his native language. Carte, and others, could not aspire to a loftier title than that of annalists ; and the re- cent production from the pen of SmoUet, though displaying talent, was by far too imperfect to give him a place among eminent historical writers. Hume alone had come near to the standard of excellence ; and, after en- during a doubtful struggle, in the course of which his spirits were well nigh overpowered, had at length begun to enjoy the literary honours which he had so painfully acquired. For a considerable time past he had been occupied on the reigns of the Tudor race ; and, as this subject is insepa- rably connected with Scottish history. Dr. Robertson was alarmed lest he himself should sustain injuiy from the volumes of his friend being pub- lished simultaneously with his own. The new candidate for f^mie endea- voured to induce Hume to proceed with some other portion of his narra- tive ; and, having failed in this, he appears to have been desirous that he should at least be allowed to be the hrst to claim the notice of the public. XIV THE LIFE OF " I am (says Hume in a letter to him) nearly pnnted out, and shall be sure to send you a copy by the stage coach, or some other conveyance. I beg of you to make remarks as you go along. It would have been much bet- ter had we communicated before printing, whicn was always my desire, and was most suitable to the friendship which always did, and I hope always will subsist between us. I speak this chiefly on my own account. For though I had the perusal of your sheets before I printed, I was not able to derive sutRcient benefits fi'om them, or indeed to make any altera- tion by their assistance. There still remain, I fear, many errors, of which you could have convinced me if we had canvassed the matter in conversa tion. Perhaps I might also have been sometimes no less Ibrtunate with you." He adds, " Millar was proposing to publish me about March ; but I shall communicate to him your desire, even though I think it entirely froundless, as you will likewise think after you have read my volume. le has very needlessly delayed your publication till the first week ol February, at the desire of the Edinburgh booksellers, who could no way be affected by a publication in London. I was exceedingly sorry not to be able to comply with your desire, when you expressed your wish that I should not write this period. I could not write downward. For when you find occasion, by new discoveries, to correct your opinion with regard to facts which passed in queen Elizabeth's days ; who, that has not the best opportunities of informing himself, could venture to relate any recent transactions? I must therefore have abandoned altogether this scheme of the English History, in which I had proceeded so far, if I had not acted as I did. You will see what light and force this history of the Tudors be- stows on that of the Stewarts. Had I been prudent 1 should have begun with it." The alarm which Dr. Robertson conceived from the rivalship of his friend was, however, groundless. His success was not, like that of Hume, the slow growth of years. It was complete and immediate. So rapid was the sale of the book, that, before a month had elapsed, his publisher informed him that it Avas necessary to set about preparing for a second edi- tion. It was read and admired by a part of the joyal family; and plau- sive and gratulatory letters were showered on him from all quarters. Warburlon, Horace VValpole, Lord Mansfield, Lord Lyttelton, Dr. Doug- las, Hurd, and many other men of eminence, all concurred in swelling the chorus of praise. Among the foremost to blazon his merits was his ami- cable rival, Hume, whose letters bear repeated testimony to the warmth of his friendship, and his noble freedom from the base dominion of envy. "I am diverting myself," says he, "with the notion of how much you will profit by the a;)plause of my enemies in Scotland. Had you and I been such fools as to have given way to jealousy, to have entertained ani- mosity and malignity against each other, and to have rent all our acquaint ance into parlies, what a noble amusement we should have exhibited to the blockheads, which now they are likely to be disappointed of! All the people whose friendship or judgment either of us value are friends to both, and will be pleased with the success of both, as we will be with that of each other. 1 declare in you I have not of a long time had a more sensi- ble pleasure than the good reception of your History has given me within tnis fortnight." In another place, with a sportiveness not unusual in his correspondence, he exclaims, " But though I have given this character of your work to Monsieur Helvelius, I warn you that this is the last time that, either to Frenchman or Englishman, I shall ever speak the least good of it. A plague take you ! Here I sat near the historical summit of Par- nassus, immediately under Dr. Smollet ; and you have the impudence to squeeze yourself by me, and place yourself directly under his feet. Do you imagine that this can be agreeable to me ! And must not I be guilty of great siaiplicity to contribute my endeavours to your thrusting me out of DR. ROBERTSON. xf my place in Paris as well as at London ? But I give you warning that you will find the matter somewhat ditticult, at least in the former city. A friend of mine, wlio is there, writes home to his father the strangest ac- counts on that head ; which my modesty will not permit me to repeat, but which it allowed me very deliciously to swallow." The hold which the History of Scotland thus suddenly acquired on the fmblic mind it yet retains, fourteen editions were published during the ife-time of the author, and the editions since his decease have been still more numerous. It has undoubtedly established itself as a classical Eng- Iisn production. For a while, indeed, the voice of criticism was mute ; and the historian had only to enjoy the luxury of his triumph. But, at length, some of his opinions, particularly his belief of the guilt of Mary found opponents in the candid and well intbrmed TytJer, the learned, acute, and eloquent Stuart, and the dogmatical Whitaker ; the latter of whom, though master of talents, erudition, and forcible reasoning, almost rendered truth itself repulsive by the petulance and overbearingness of his manner, and the ruggedness oihis style. Of his antagonists, however, the historian took not the slicrhfpst piJilir notice, contsnting himself with the silent correction of such passages in his work as his matured judgment had decided to be erroneous. In a letter to Gibbon he laconically notices Whitaker. " You will see," says he, "that I have got in Mr. Whitaker an adversary so bigoted and zealous, that though I have denied no article of faith, and am at least as orthodox as himself, yet he rails against me with all the asperity of theological hatred. I shall adhere to my fixed maxim of making no reply." It was not merely a harvest of unproductive fame thai was reaped by Dr. Robertson. He was no sooner known to the world than preferment was rapidly bestowed on him. In the autumn of 1758, while his work was in the hands of the printer, he was translated from Gladsmuir to one of the churches of the Scottish metropolis. I believe the church to which he was removed to have oeen that of the Old Gray Friars, in which, some years afterwards, his friend Dr. Erskine became his coadjutor. On the History issuing from the press, he was appointed chaplain of Stirling Cas- tle, and, in 1761, one of his Majesty's chaplains in ordinary for Scotland. The dignity of Principal of the College of Edinburgh was conferred on him in 1762 ; and, two years subsequently to this, the office of Historio- grapher for Scotland, which, since the death of Crawfurd, in 1726, had been disused, was revived in his favour, with an annual stipend of two hundred pounds. By the remuneration which he had received for his history, and the salaries which arose from his various appointments, Dr. Robertson was now in possession of an income far greater than had ever before been pos- sessed by any Scotch presbyterian minister, and certainly not falling short of that which had been enjoyed by some bishops at the period when the church of Scotland was under episcopal government. A tew of his indis- creet friends seem, however, to have thought that his talents were not ade- quately rewarded, and even that the clerical profession in the northern part of our island did not afford for them a sphere of action sutficiently ex- tensive. The church of England held forth richer prospects to ambition and to mental endowments ; and they were of opinion that, by transferring his services to that church, he might obtain a share in its highest dignities and emoluments. To this scheme allusions may be found in the Tetters which, about this time, were addressed to him by Dr. John Blair, Sir Gil- bert Elliot, and Mr. Hume. But Dr. Robertson had a larger share of foresight and prudence than his advisers, and he rejected their dangerous though well intended counsel. It is, perhaps, more than doubtful whether, nad it been executed, their plan would have produced the desired effect. This kind of transplanting has often been tried, but seldom, if ever, with XVI THE LIFE OF any degree of success. The plant, vigorous on its native bed, languishes and is uvvarfed on an alien soil. Dr. Robertson had now reached tne ma- ture age of forty-one; his opinions, his habits, his connexions, had all been formed with a reference to the circle in which he moved, and it was not probable that they could be suddenly bent with advantage in an opposite direction. In Scotland he had no competitors who could rise to a level with him ; in England he would, perhaps, have had many; and he may be supposed to have thought with Ccesar, that it is better to be the first man in a village than the second at Rome. Nor was there any room in England for the exercise of that kind of eloquence in which he particularly excelled; the eloquence which is manifested in debate. By the force of his oratory he left far behind all his rivals and opponents, and wielded at will the general assembly of the Scottish church ; but, since the convoca- tion was shorn of its controversial and declamatory glories, since it was smitten with an incapacity of embarrassing the government, fostering theo- logical rancour, and displaying the unseemly spectacle of Christian divines arrayed in worse than barbarian hostility to each other, there has not in this ccuntry existed any deliberative clerical body in which Dr. Robert- son could nave exerted those argumentative and rhetorical powers that, among his fellow ministers, obtained for him so entire an ascendancy. His preferment might also have stopped short of the point which his sanguine friends expected it to attain ; and, whatever its degree, it would in all pro- bability have been looked on with a jealous eye by many of his brethren on the south of the Tweed. There was, besides, another and still more powerful reason that must have influenced his decision. He had ibr nearly twenty yeare been a leading minister of the presbyterian establishment ; and his now quitting it to enter into a prelatical church, which, as being deemed a scion from the hated stock of Rome, was still held in abomina- tion by many of his countrymen, could scarcely have failed to be considered as an interested and base sacrifice of his principles and his character at the shrine of lucre and ambition. To be branded as a deserter by the zealots of the one institution, and by the envious of the other, was not a favourable auspice under which to commence his new career ; and he therefore acted wisely, as well as honourably, in remaining a member of the Scottish church. Having resolved to remain in Scotland, and to rely chiefly on his pen for the advancement of his- fortune, Dr. Robertson had now to choose another theme on which his talents could be profitably employed. To the com- position of history, in which he had met with such stimulating success, he wisely determined to adhere. It was, indeed, in that department that he was peculiarly qualified to excel, by his power of vivid description, and his happy delineation of character. His friends were consulted on this occasion ; each had some favourite plan to suggest to him ; and he seems to have been absolutely embarrassed by the affluence of subjects, many of which were worthy of his best exertions to illustrate and adom them, if a ludicrous simile may be allowed, we may say that he found it no less difficult to fix his choice, than it was tor Mr. Shandy to decide to what pur- pose he should apply the legacy which was left to him by his sister Dinah. Dr. John Blair strenuously recommended to him to write a complete His- tory of England, and assured him that Lord Chesterfield had declared his readiness to move, in the house of peers, for public encouragement to him, in case of his undertaking a work %vhich might with justice oe considered as being a national one. But from adopting this project, though it was one which he had early cherished. Dr. Robertson was deterred by his honourable un- willingness to interfere with his friend Hume, who was now putting the finishing hand to his great labour. Hume himself advised him to under- take a series of modern lives, in the manner of Plutarch. " You see," said he, " that in Plutarch the life of Caesar may be read in half an hour. DR. ROBERTSON. xvu Were you to write the life of Henry the Fourth of France after that model, you mijht pillage all the pretty stories in Sully, and speak more of his mistresses than of his battles. In short, you might 2;allier the flower of all modern history in this manner. The remarkable popes, the kings of Swe- den, the great discoverers and conquerors of the >»ew World, even the eminent men of letters might furnish you with matter, and the quick des- Fatch of every different work would encourage you to begin a new one f one volume were successful, you might compose another at your leisure, and the field is inexhaustible. There are persons whom you nnght meet with in the corners of history, so to speak, who would be a subject ot en- tertainment quite unexpected ; and as lon^ as you live, you might give and receive amusement by such a work." That so excellent an idea should not have been acted upon must be regretted by every one wIjo is a lovei of literature. By Horace Walpole two subjects, of no trivial interest, were pointed out. These were the History oi Learning, and the History of the reigns of Nerva, Trajan, Adrian, and the two Antonines ; the latter of which Walpole declared'that he should be tempted to denominate the History of Humanity. Dr. Robertson himself seems, at one time, to have thought, though but transiently, of tracing the events which occurred in the age of Leo the Tenth. There is no reason to lament that he did not undertake this task, which was once meditated on by Warton, and has since beer) performed by a writer whom nature has largely gifted, and who Sossesscs a profound kno'.vledge of the records, arts, and language of Italy, lut the two plans which had the ascendancy in his mind, and between which he lonp; hesitated, were the History of Greece, and the History of Charles the Fifth. At length, notwithstanding the objections Avhich were urged hy Hurne and Horace Walpole, he made choice of the reign of Charles as the suliject of his second attempt. When he had for about a year been engaged, partly in those preliminary researches ^vhich are necessary to give value to a work like that on which he was occupied, and partly in coiriposilion, his progress was suddenly suspended, by the intervention of a personage of such elevated rank as to render it almost impossible tor him to decline a compliance with that which was required from hitn. It has been seen, that he was early desirous to be the historian of his native island, and that tVieiidship alone prevented him from being so. He was now informed that the wishes of the British sovereign were in unison with his own. In the latter part of July, 1761, he was v/ritten to on this head by lord Cathcart. " Lord Bute told me the king's thoughts as well as his own," said lord Cathcart, " with respect to your History of Scotland, and a wish his majesty had expressed to see a History of England by your pen. His lordship assured me, ever}' source of information which goverimient can command would be open to you , and that great, laborious, and extensive as the work must be, he would take care your encouragement should be proportioned to it. He seemed to be aware of some objections you once had, founded on the apprehen- sion of clashing or interfering with 3Ir. David Hume, who is your friend : but as your performance and his will be upon plans so different from each other, and as his will, in point of time, have so much the start of yours, these objections did not seem to him such as, upon reflection, were likely to continue to have much weight with you. t must add, that though 1 did not think it right to inquire into lord Bute's intentions before 1 knew a little of your mind, it appeared to me plain, that they were higher than any views which can open to you in Scotland, and which, I believe, he would think inconsistent with the attention the other subject would neces- sarily require." A proposition thus powerfully enforced it would, under any circum- stances, have been difficult for Dr. Robertson to reject. But, in fact, the reasons which formerly influenced his conduct had ceased to exist. Hume Vol. I.— C xviii THE LIFE OF had now completed his history, it was before the public, and its fate mast be irrevocably decided before a line of the rival narrative could be com- mitted to paper. Dr. Robertson was convinced of this, and therefore he did not hesitate to embrace the opportunity which was offered to him. 'After the first publication of the History of Scotland, and the favourable reception i( met with," said he in his answer to lord Cathcart, " I had both very tempting offers from booksellers, and very confident assurances of public encouragement, if I would undertake the History of England But as Mr. Hume, with whom, notwilhslanding the contrariety of our sen- timents both in religion and politics, I live in great friendship, was at that time in the middle of the sulyect, no consideration of interest or reputation would induce me to break in upon a field of vvhicii he had taken prior pos- session ; and I determined that my interference with him should never be any obstruction to the sale or success of his work. Nor do I yet repent of my having resisted so many solicitations to alter this resolution. But the case I now think is entirely changed. His History will have been pub- lished several years before any work of mine on the same suiyect can appear; its first run will not be marred by anyjustling with me, and it will have taken that station in the literary system which belongs to it. This objection, therefore, which 1 thought, and still think, so weighty at that time, makes no impression on me at present, and 1 can now justify my undertaking the English History, to myself, to the world, and to him. Besides, our manner of viewing the same subject is so different or peculiar, that (as was the case in our last books) both may maintain their own rank, have their own partisans, and possess their own merit, without hurting each other." To enable him to accomplish so arduous a labour, he considered it neces- sary, not only that he should be established in such a manner as would divest him of all anxiety as to pecuniary concerns, but that he should like- wise have the power of devoting to study a larger portion of his time than it was now possible for him to allot to that purpose. "Were 1 to carve out my own fortune," said he, " 1 should wish to continue one of his ma- jesty's chaplains for Scotland, but to resign my charge as a minister of Edinburgh, which engrosses more of my time than one who is a stranger to the many minute duties of that office can well imagine. I would wish to apply my whole time to literary pursuits, which is at present parcelled out among innumerable occupations. In order to enable me to make this resig- nation some appointment must be assigned me for life. What that should be, it neither becomes ine, nor do I pretend to say. One thing, however I wish with some earnestness, that Ujc thing might be executed soon, both as it will give me great vigour in my studies to have my I'uture fortune ascertained in so honourable a manner, and because, by allowing me to apply myself wholly to my present work, it will enable me to finish it in a less time, and to begin so much sooner to my new task." But though he was desirous to obtain some appointment, in order that he might not be "reduced entirely to the profession of an author," he at the same moment, with becoming spirit, declared that he did not wish to derive any emolu- ment from it before he could commence the particular task for which the appointment was to be given. The proposal that he should remove to London, he was averse trom complying with, though he did not put a direct negative on it : and he could not consent to begin the History of Bntam till he had completed that of Charles the Fifth. This scheme, which seems to have been almost brought to maturity, was, nevertheless, di-opped ; but for what reason is unknown. Mr. Stewart is disposed to believe that the failure of it may in part be attributed to the resignation of lord Bute. It was certainly so much a favourite with Dr. Bobertson that he long cherished it, and abandoned it with reluctance We rnay, perhaps, be allowed to smile, or to wonder, that a sovereign DK. ROBERTSON. xix should have selected a writer confessedly of Whig principles to compose a History of England, in opposition to one produced by a friend of arbi- trary power; and we may also be allowed to doubt, whether, as far as regarded its sentiments, such a work, written by a Whig under the auspices of a court, would have proved quite satisfactory either to the monarch or to the people. There might, at least, have been some danger that it would have justified the sarcasm which was uttered by Horace Walnole, on ano- ther occasion " You must know, sir," said Dr. Robertson to nim, " that I look upon myself as a moderate Whig." — " Yes, doctor," replied Wal- pole, " I look on you as a very moderate Whig." As soon as this negotiation was broken off, he bent all his exertions to the task which he had commenced. The public curiosity was highly excited, and it was long kept on the stretch before it was gratified. In the summer of 1761, he stated that one third of the work was finished, and that two years more would be required to bring the whole to perfection. But there never yet was an author who did not deceive himself, and con- sequently deceive others, as to the period at which his labour would be completed. The stupid, the thoughtless, and the malignant (and there are many persons, not literary, thousrh connected with literature, who belong to these classes) consider as intended for the purpose of deception the erroneous estimate which authors are thus apt to form. They either can not or will not be taught that, in spite of Dr. Johnson's bold assertion to the contrary, no man is at all hours capable of thinking deeply, or of clothing his thoughts in an attractive dress ; that he who is dependent on his reputation for existence ought not to be compelled to hazard it by crude and slovenly efforts, the product of haste ; that he who draws up a narra- tive from widely scattered, numerous, and conflicting documents must often, in painful research and in balancing evidence, spend more months than he had calculated on spending weeks; that the discovery of a single paper, the existence of which was previously unknown, may not only throw a new light upon a subject, but give to it an entirely new colour, and may compel a writer to modify, to arrange, and even to cancel, much that he had supposed to have rt,^eived his last touches ; and, therefore, that the delay which, as being a proof of literary indolence, is so fre- quently and so unfeelingly an object of censure, ought rather in many cases to be rewarded with praise, because it is a duty which an author con- scientiously, and at his own cost, performs to society and to truth. Impe- diments of this kind no doubt retarded the progress of Dr. Robertson ; to which must be added his multifarious avocations, as principal of the uni- versity, a minister of one of the churches of the Scottish metropolis, and an active member of the general assembly, in which body, as Mr. Stewart informs us, taction was running high at that epoch. The transactions relative to America he likewise found to be of too vast a magnitude, to allow of their being compressed into an episode. He was under the neces- sity of reserving them for a separate history ; and this circumstance obliged him in some degree to make a change in his original plan. It is, there- fore, not wonderful that the publication of his work was protracted six years beyond the time which he had himself assigned for it. At length, early in 1769, appeared, in three volumes quarto, the History of Charles the Fifth. It had been perused, while in the press, by Hume, and probably by other friends, and had gained the warmest praise. " I got yesterday from Strahan," says Hume, in one of his letters, " about thirty sheets of your History, to be sent over to Suard, and last night and this morning have run them over with great avidity. I could not deny myself the satisfaction (which I hope also will not displease you] of expressing presently my extreme approbation of them. To say only tney are very well written, is by far too faint an expression, and much inferior to the sentiments I feel : they are composed with nobleness, with dignity, M THE LIFE OF with elegance, and with judgment, to which there are few equals. They even excel, and I think in a sensible degree, your History of Scotland. I propose to myselfgreat pleasure in being the only man in England, during some months, who will be in the situation of doing you justice, after which you may certainly expect that my voice will be drowned in that of the public." Hume's anticipation was prophetic. Soon alter the work had come out, he wrote to his friend, in the following unequivocal terms. " The success has answered my expectations, and 1, who converse with the great, the fair, and the learned, have scarcely heard an opposite voice, or even whis- per, to the general sentiments. Only I have heard that the Sanhedrim at Mrs. Macaulay's condemns you as little less a friend to government and monarchy than myselt." Horace Walpole was almost equally laudatory; lord Lyltelton testitied his admiration; and, as Hume had long beforf done, recommended to the historian to write, in the manner of Plutarch, the lives of eminent persons. Voltaire, also, paid a flattering tribute. " It is to you and to Mr. Hume," said he, "that it belongs to write history You are eloquent, learned, and impartial. I unite with Europe in esteem ing you." Nor was the fame of the author contined to his native island. Through the intervention of the baron D'Holbach, M. Suard was induced to translate the work into French, while it was being printed in England, and his masterly translation is said to have established his own literary character, and to have been the means of his obtaining a seat in the French academy. The remuneration which the author himself received was mag- niiicent ; especially in an age when it was not customary to give a large sum of money for the purchase of copyright. It is affirmed to have been no less than four thousand five hundred pounds. It is not to be imagined, however, that the History of Charles the Fifth could entirely escape the severity of criticism, which appears to be the common lot of all literary productions. By the Abbe Mably it was attacked in rude and contemptuous language; which, without having the power to injure the work, was disgraceful to the person who descended to use it. Gilbert Stuart likewise assailed it ; but with more skill than the French critic, and with a vigour which was animated by personal resentment. That his acuteness detected many inaccuracies, it would be absurd to dis- pute ; but no one can doubt thai he pushed his censure farther than was consonant with justice, when he characterized Dr. Robertson as an author "whose total abstinence from all ideas and inventions of his own permitted Dim to cany an undivided attention to other men's thoughts and specula- tions." \Valpole, too, in later life, asserted that the reading of Dr. Kobert- son was not extensive, that the Introduction to the History of Charles abounds with gross errors, and that in many instances he has mistaken exceptions for rules. The work, however, still maintains its station; and, even admitting all that truth or ingenious prejudice can urge against it, who is there who will now have the boldness to deny that it forms a splen- did addition to our historical treasures ? After having completed this arduous undertaking. Dr. Robertson allowed himself some respite from literary toil ; a respite which, in fact, was neces- sary for the preservation of his health. His mind was, however, too active to refmain long unoccupied, and he hastened to resume the pen. As a se- quel to the history of Charles, he had promised to give to the public a nar- rative of the Spanish discoveries, conquests, and proceedings in America. This plan he soon resolved to enlarge, so as to include in it the transactions of all the European colonizers of the American continent. To the origin and progress of the British empire in that quarter, it was originally his in tention to devote an entire volume. Than the History of the New World It was impossible for him to have chosen a subject more fertile, more attractive, or better calculated for the display of his peculiar talents DR. ROBERTSON. xxi There was " ample room and voi-ge enough" for eloquence to expatiate in. The rapidly succeeding events wliich he ',vas to describe were scarcely less marvellous than those ot' an on'eritai fiction ; one of his hej'oes, the dauntless explorer of unknown oceans, will always excite the wonder, admiration, and pitj' of m-ankind ; others, though villains, were at least villains uf no common powers ; and the characters, the customs, the man- ners, the scenery, every thing in short that was connected with the work, possessed throughout the charm of novelty, and, in many instances, that of the most picturesque and forcible contrast. To the first part of his subject, that which relates to the discovery of the New World, and the conquests and policy of the Spaniards, eight years of studious toil were devoted by Dr. Robertson. At length, in the spring of 1777, he put forth, in two quartos, the result of his labours. The pub- lic again received him with enthusiasm, and his literary friends again pressed forward to congratulate and to praise him. Hume was no longer in existence ; but his place was supplied by Gibbon, wdio testified his entire approbation of the volumes even before he had wholly perused them. " I have seen enough," said he, " to convince me that the present publica- tion will support, and, if possible, extend the fame of the author ; that the materials are collected with care, and arranged with skill ; that the pro- gress of discovery is displayed with learning and perspicuity; that the dangers, the achievements, and the views of the Spanish adventurers, are related with a temperate spirit ; and that the most original, perhaps the most curious portion of human manners, is at length rescued from the hands of sophists and declaimers." But, perhaps, of all the applause which was bestowed on Dr. Robert- son, none was more gratifying than that which was given by Burke; a man eminent at once as a writer, an orator, and a statesman. " I am per- fectly sensible," says he, " of the very flattering distinction I have received in your thinking me worthy of so noble a present as that of j^our History of America, i have, however, suOfered my gratitude to lie under some suspicion, by delaying my acknowledgment of so great a favour. But my delay was only to render my obligation to you more complete, and my thanks, if possible, more merited. The close of the session brought a great deal of very troublesome though not important business on me at once. I could not go through your work at one breath at that time, though [ have done it since. I am now ena()led to thank you, not only for the honour you have done me, but for the great satisfaction, and the infinite variety and compass of instruction, I have received from your incomparable work. Every thing has been done w hich was so naturally to be expected from the author of the History of Scotland, and of the Age of Charles th« Pifth. I believe few books have done more than this, towards clearing up lark points, corre.jting errors, and removing preju(iices. You have too he rare secret of rekindling an interest on subjects that had so often been created, and in which every thing Avhich could feed a vital flame appeared t ) have been consumed. I am sure I read many parts of your History uUh that fresh concern and anxiety which attend those who a?e not pre- viously apprized of the event. You have, besides, thrown quite a new light on the present state of the Spanish provinces, and furnished both ma- terials and hints for a rational theory of what may be expected from them in future " The part which 1 read with the greatest pleasure is the discussion on the manners and character of the inhabitants of the New World. 1 have always thought with you, that we possess at this time very great advan- tages towards the knowledge of human nature. We need no longer go to history to trace it in all its ages and periods. History, fro'u its compara- tive youth, is but a poor instructer. When the Egvplians called the Greeks childien ia antiquities, w« may well call them children ; and so we maj xxii THE LIFE OF call all those nations which "vvere able to trace the progress of society oniy within their own limits. But nov/ the great map of niatjkind is unrolled at once, and there is no state or gradation of barbarism, and no mode of refinement, which we have not at the same moment under our view ; (he very different civility of Europe and of China; the barbarism of Persia and of Abyssinia ; the erratic manners of Tartary and of Arabia ; the savage state of North America and New Zealand. Indeed you have made a noble use of the advantages you have had. You have employed philo- sophy to judge on manners, and from manners you have drawn new re- sources for philosophy. I only think that in one or two points you have hardly done justice to the savage character." The honours which were paid to him by foreigners were equally grati fying. The Royal Academy of History at Madrid unanimously elected him a member on the eighth of August, in 1777, "in testimony of their approbation of the industry and care with which he had applied to the study of Spanish History, and as a recompense for his merit in having con- tributed so nmcli to illustrate and spread the knowledge of it in foreign countries." It likewise appointed one of its members to translate the His- tory of America into the Spanish language, and considerable progress is believed to have been made in the translation. But the latter measure excited alarni in an absurd and decrepit government, which sought for safety in concealment rather than in a bold and liberal policy, and, like the silly bird, imagined that by hiding its own head it could escape from the view of its pursuers. The translation was, therefore, officially ordered to be suppressed, with the vain hope of keeping the world still in the dark, with respect to the nature of the Spanish American commerce, and of the system of colonial administration. It was not from Spain alone that he received testimonies of respect. In 1781, the Academy of Sciences at Padua elected him one of its foreign membei-s ; and, in 1783, the same compliment was paid to him by the Im- perial Academy of Sciences at St. Petersburgh. The empress Catharine also, who, numerous as were her fiults, was a woman of a strong and en- lightened intellect, also conferred on him a flattering distinction. She ordered his friend, Dr. Rogerson, to transmit to him, as a mark of her esteem, a gold snuffbox, richly set with diamonds ; observing at the same time, that a person whose labours had afforded her so much satisfaction merited some attention from her. So much, indeed, was she delighted with the works of the Scottish author, that she did not hesitate to assign to him the place of first model in historical composition, to express much admiration of the sagacity and discernment which he displayed in painting the human mind and character, and to declare that the History of Charles the Fifth was the constant companion of her journeys, and that she was never tired of perusing it, particularly the introductory volume. As soon as enthusiasm had subsided, criticism began its labours in search of defects. It was objected to the author, that he had shown a disposition to palliate or to veil the enormities of the Spaniards, in their American conquests, and that he had shed an illusive lustre round the daring and intelligent but sanguinary and unprincipled Cortes. Even Professor Stew- art, notwithstanding his honourable affection for the memory of his friend, shrinks from vindicating him on this score, and contents himself with oppo- sing to the charge "those warm and enlightened sentiments of humanity which in general animate his writings." Unwilling to censure severely, and unable to exculpate, Bryan Edwards suggests, as an apoloery for Dr Robertson, that this is one of the cases in which the mind, shrinking from the contemplation of alleged horrors, wishes to resist conviction, and to re- lieve itself by incredulity. Dr. Gleig, however, the latest biographer of the historian, indignantly rejects this apology as absurd ; and, more enter j.rising than his predecessors, partly labours to invalidate the accusation, DR. ROBERTSON. xxiii by lessening the sum of Spanish cruelties, and partly to render it of no weig^ht, by pleading that the writer probably considered the conquests of Mexico and Peru as means employed by Providence to accomplish the no- blest and most beneficent purposes. That Dr. Robertson did really regard those conquests in such a light we may easily believe ; since, in his ser- mon on the state of the world at the appearance of Christ, he manifests iimilar sentiments with respect to the measureless and unslumbering ambi- tion of those universal robbers the Romans, whom he is pleased to style " the noblest people that ever entered on the stage of the world." But this defence is merely sophistical. Though we are not ignorant that a wise and benignant Providence educes good from evil, it is not the business of an historian to diminish the loathing which evil deeds ought to excite ; nor does it appear that morality is likely to be much benefited, by teaching tyrants and murderers to imagine that, while they are giving the rein to their own furious and malignant passions, they are only performing their destined tasks as instruments of the Deify. This was by no means all that was urged again.st tne History of Ame- rica. It is, in fact, not now attempted to be denied that, in many instances, Dr. Robertson was led astray by his partiality to the brilliant but fallacious theories of De Pauw and BufTon. Clavigero, in his History of Mexico, detected and somewhat harshly animadverted on several errors, a part of which were subsequently rectified. Bryan Edwards, too, pointed out some contradictions, and some erroneous statements. But the most severe cen- sor is Mr. Southey, a man eminently well informed on ancient Spanish and American events. In his History of Brazil, after having described the mode of reckoning in use among the transatlantic tribes, he adds, " when Pauw reasoned upon the ia^norance of tlie Americans in numbers, did he suppress this remarkable fact, or was he ignorant of it? The same ques- tion is applicable to Dr. Robertson, who, on this, and on many other sub- jects, in what he calls his History of America, is guilty of such omissions, and consequent misrepresentations, as to make it certain either that he had not read some of the most important documents to which he refers, or that he did not choose to notice the facts which he found there, because they were not in conformity to his own preconceived opinions. A remarkable example occurs respecting a circulating medium ; when he mentions cocoa- nuts, which were used as money in Mexico, and says, ' this seems to be the utmost length which the Americans had advanced towards the discovery of any expedient for supplying the use of money.' Now, it is said by Cortes himself, that when he was about to make cannon, he had copper enough, but wanted tin ; and having bought up all the plates and pots, which he could find among the soldiers, he began to inquire among the natives. He then found, that in the province of Tachco, little pieces of tin, like thin coin, were used for money, there and in other places. And this led him to a discovery of the mines from whence it was taken. The reputation of this author must rest upon his History of Scotland, if that can support.it. His other works are grievously deficient." Such are the defects which are attributed to Dr. Robertson's History On the other hand, it ought to be remembered, that many sources of know- ledge, which were then hidden, have since become accessible, that no man is at all times exempted from the dominion of prejudice, that the most cautious vigilance may sink into a momentary slumber, and that to him who has achieved much, a tribute of gratitude is due, even though it may be discovered that he has left sotnething undone. Were the History of the Spanish Conquests proved to be tnerely a fiction, it would nevertheless continue to be read, such attraction is there in the general elegance of the language, the skilful delineation of the characters, and the sustained inter- est and spirit of the narrative. In the preface to this portion of his labours, he made known bis intention XXIV THE LIFE OF to resume the subject at a future period ; and he assigned the ferment which then agitated our North American colonies as a reason for suspend- ing, at present, the execution of that part of his plan which related to British America. At the very beginnin;^, in truth, of the contest with the colonies, he congratulated himself on his not having completed his narra- tive. " It is lucky," said he, in a letter to Mr. Straban, " that my American History was not finished before this event. How many plausible theories that I should have been entitled to form, are contradicted by what has now happened." A fragment of this History, which, however, was care- fully corrected by him, and which he preserved when he committed his manuscripts to the flames, was all that he subsequently wrote of the work ; and this was published by his son to prevent it from tailing into ihe hands of an editor who might make alterations and additions, and obtrude the whole on the public as the genuine composition of the author. With respect to a separation between the mother country' and the colo- nists. Dr. Robertson seems to have somewhat varied in his sentiments, and to have contemplated the probability of such an event with much more dislike in 1775 than he did in 1766. In the latter year, speaking of the repeal of the stamp act, he said, "I rejoice, from my love of the human species, that a million of men in America have some chance of running the same great career which other free people have held before them. I do not apprehend revolution or independence sooner than these must oj should come. A very little skill and attention in the art of governing may pre- serve the supremacy of Britain as long as it ought to be preserved." But, in 1773, though he still acknowledged that the colonies must ultimately become independent, he was anxious that their liberation should be delayed till as distant a period as possible, and was clearl}' of opinion that they had as yet no right to throw off their allegiance. Nor was he sparing of his censure on the ministers for the want of policy and firmness, which he considered them to have displayed at the commencement of the quar rel. "I agree with you about the affairs of America," said he, in a letter, which was written in the autumn of 1775, " incapacity, or want of informa- tion, has led the people employed there to deceive the ministry. Trust- ing to them, they have been trifling for two years, when they should iiave been serious, until they have rendered a very simple piece of business extremely perplexed. They have permitted colonies, disjoined by nature and situation, to consolidate into a regular systematical confederacy; and when a tew regiments stationed in each capital would have rendered it impossible for them to take arms, they have suffered them quietly to levy and train forces, as if they had not seen against whom they were prepared. But now we are fairly committed, and I do think it fortunate that the vio- lence of the Americans has brought matters to a crisis too soon for them- selves. From the beginning of the contest I have always asserted that independence was their object. The distinction between taxation and regulation is mere folly. There is not an argument against our rigiit of taxation that does not conclude with tenfold force against our power of regulating their trade. They may profess or disclaim what they please, and hold the language that best suits their purpose; but, if they have any meaning, it must be that they should be free states, connected with us by blood, by habit, and by religion, but at liberty to buy and sell and trade where and with whom they please. This they will one day attain, but not just now, if there be any degree of political wisdom or vigour remain- ing. At the same time one cannot but regret tiiat prosperous growing states should be checked in their career. As a lover of mankind, I bewail it ; but as a subject of Great Britain, I must wish that their dependence on it should continue. If the wisdom of government can terminate the contest w^ith honour instantly, that would be the most desirable issue. This, however, 1 take to be now impossible ; and I will venture to fore* DR. ROBERTSON. sxr tell, that if our leaders do not at once exert the power of the British em- pire in its full force, the struggle will be long, dubious, and disgraceful We are past the hour of lenitives and half exertions. If the contest be protracted, the smallest interruption of the tranquillity that reigns in Europe, or even the appearance of it, may be fatal. It must be owned, that language like this goes very far towards justify- ing the sarcasm of Horace Walpole, that the reverend historian was " a ucry moderate Whig." Perhaps, also, his belief that, at the outset, a few regiments in each capital would have sufficed to trample down the resist- ance of the Americans, may now appear difficult to be reconciled with a knowledge of military afifairs, or of human nature. Yet we must, at the same time, remember that this erroneous idea was held by him in com- mon with many other men of intellect, and that it was even brought for- ward in the British senate as an undeniable truth. Though the American war precluded Dr. Robertson from bringing to a close his history of the British settlements, it is not easy to discover why he could not continue it to a certain point ; or why, at least, he could not proceed with that part of his narrative which related to the colonization of Brazil, and the violent struggles between the Dutch and the Portuguese in that country — an extensive subject, and worthy of his pen, as it would have afforded him abundant opportunities for the display of his delineative talents. Our curiosity on this head is not satisfied by the reason which, as we have recently seen, he himself gave, in his preface and in his letter to Mr. Strahan. That reason, however, he repeated in a correspondence with his friend Mr. Waddilove, and it is now in vain to seek for a better. It is certain that a wish to retire from literary toil was not his motive ; for, at the same moment that he postponed his History of America, he declared that it was "neither his inclination nor his interest to remain altogether idle." As a proof of his sincerity, he projected a History of Great Bri- tain, from the revolution to the accession of the House of Hanover, and even began to collect the necessary documents. Notwithstanding this seems to have been, for a while, a favourite scheme, it was speedily relin- quished; a circumstance which may justly be regretted. Hume then sug- gested the History of the Protestants in France. " The events," said he, "are important in themselves, and intimately connected with the great revolutions of Europe : some of the boldest or most amiable characters of modern times, the admiral Coligny, Henry IV., &c. would be your peculiar heroes ; the materials are copious, and authentic, and accessible ; and the objects appear to stand at that just distance which excites curiosity with- out inspiring passion." The hint given by Hume was, however, not adopted. About the year 1779 or 1780, Dr. Robertson seems, indeed, to have seriously resolved to write no more for the public, but to pursue his studies at leisure, and for lis own amusement. " His circumstances," says professor Stewart, " were independent: he was approaching to the age of sixty, with a constitution considerably impaired by a sedentary life; and a long application to the compositions he had prepared lor the press had interfered with much of the gratification he might have enjoyed, if he had been at liberty to follow the impulse of his own taste and curiosity. Such a sacrifice must be more or less made by all who devote themselves to letters, whether with a view to emolument or to fame ; nor would it perhaps be easy to make it, were It not for the prospect (seldom, alas! realized) of earning by their exer- tions, that learned and honourable leisure which he was so fortunate as to attain." We must now contemplate Dr. Robertson in another point of view — that of his ecclesiastical and academical character ; in which, no less than in his literary capacity, he occupied a prominent station. The eminence, however, which he had not attained without diflSculty, he did not hold Vol. I.— D 2 XXVI THE LIFE OF entirely without danger. In one instance he was near falling a vicfim to his spirit of liberality. In 1778, the British legislature relieved the English Roman catholics from some of the severest of the barbarous jenallies to which they had been subjected nearly a century before. Encouraged by this event, the Scottish catholics determined to petition parliament to extend the benefit to themselves. To this measure Dr. Robertson was friendly, and he successfully exerted his influence, and that of his partisans, to pro- cure the rejection of a remonstrance against it, which was brought forward in the general assembly. But on this occasion, as, unhappi!)', on too many others, bigotry and ignorance triumphed over sound policy and Christian charity. The trumpet of fanaticism was immediately sounded, and men of the most opposite principles and interests hurried to obey the call. Presbyterians, seceders, and even episcopalians, the latter of whom uere themselves under the lash of penal statutes, all combined in the crusade against papistry. Pamphlets and speeches were lavished, to prove that the constitution in church and state must inevitably perish, if an iota of relief were granted to the faithless members of an idolatrous and sanguinary church. The Roman catholics were so terrified at the fury that was thus aroused, that the principal gentlemen among them informed the ministry that they would desist from appealino- to parliament ; and they endeavoured to calm the popular tempest, by puolishing in the daily papers an account of their proceedings. But the enlightened mob of Edinburgh had sngeiy resolved that the catholics should not even dare to wish for the sliahtest participation in the privileges of British subjects, without being punished Tor their temerity. Accordingly, on the 2d of February, 1779, nuillitudes of the lowest classes, headed by disguised leaders, assembled in the Scottish capital, burnt the house of the popish bishop and two chapels : and, in their even-handed justice, were on the point of committing to the flames an episcopal chapel, when they were propitiated, by being told that an episcopal clergyman was the author of one of the ablest tracts which had been published against popery. As, however, they could not consent to remit their vengeance, but only to change its object, they turned their wrath upon those who had expressed opinions favourable to the claims of the catholics. Dr. Robertson was marked out as one of the most guilty, and nothing less than the destruction of his property and life was considered as sufficient to atone lor his crime. Fortunately his friends had provided for his safety, and, when the self-appointed champions of religion reached his house, it was found to be defended b}' a military force, which they had not enough of courage to look in the face. As they had come only to destroy and to murder, they, of course, retreated, when they discovered that, to accomplish their purpose, it would also be necessary to fight. Dr. Robertson is said to have manifested great firmness and tranquillity during this trying scene. In selecting Dr. Robertson as the person most worthy of suffering by their summary process of punishment without trial, the mob of Edinburgh acted with a more than mobbish share of injustice. Though desirous that the catholics should be released from their thraldom, he was not disposed to put any thing to the hazard for the furtherance of that object, and had already withdrawn his patronage from such obnoxious clients. He was not one of those who, as Goldsmith says of Burke, are '* too fond of the ris^ht to pursue the expedient." With him prudence was a governing principle. When, therefore, he saw that his countrymen were adverse to the measure, he advised the ministry to forbear from lending their coun- tenance to it. In an eloquent speech, delivered in the general assembly, he afterwards explained and vindicated the view which he originally took of the subject, and the manner in which he finally acted. The perusal of that which he urged, on the latter point, will not merely show what were his motives in this instance, but also afford some insight into his general DR. ROBERTSON. xxvii character. How far his system of policy is consonant with dignity or wisdom, which, indeed, are inseparable, 1 shall not stop to inquire. It mig-hl, perhaps, not improperly, be objected to him, that he mistakes the voice of a blind infuriated multitude for the voice of the people ; though it is impossible for any tv.'o things to be more different in their nature. It might be asked, too, why the fanatical prejudices of a Scottish mob were to be treated with more respect than the complaints of the American colonists ; why the one were to be indulged or complied with, while the other were to be silenced Ly " a few regiments stationed in each capital ?" "As soon," says he, "as I perceived the extent and violence of the flame which the discussion of this subject had kindled in Scotland, my ideas concerning the expedience at this juncture of the measure in question, began to alter. For although I did think, and I do still believe, that if the pro- testants in this country had acquiesced in the repeal as quietly as our brethren in England and Ireland, a fatal blow would have been given to popery in the British dominions ; I know, that in legislation, the sentiments and dispositions of the people, tor whom laws are made, should be attended to with care. I remembered that one of the wisest men of antiquity de- clared, that he had framed for his fellow-citizens not the best laws, but the best laws which they could bear. I recollected with reverence, that the divine Legislator himself, accommodating his dispensations to the frailty of his subjects, had given the Israelites for a season statutes which were not good. Even the prejudices of the people are, in my opinion, respectable ; and an indulgent legislator ought not unnecessarily to run counter to them. It appeared manifestly to be sound policy, in the present temper of the people, to sooth rather than to irritate them ; and, however ill founded their apprehensions might be, some concession was now requisite in order to remove them." This was, I believe, the last speech which he made in the General As- sembly. While he was yet in the vigour of his faculties, and in the exer- cise of undiminished influence in that assembly, he came to a resolution to withdraw himself entirely from public business. It was in the year 1780, about the time when he ceased to be an historian, and when he was only fifty-nine, that he adopted this resolution. Several causes seem lo have concurred in producing his retirement. It has been supposed by some, that he did not wish to remain on the scene till he was eclipsed by younger rivals ; and it is known that he felt disgusted by the conduct of the violent men of his own party, who, though he had yielded many points to them against his better judgment, were nevertheless dissatisfied that he refused to resort to stronger measures than he deemed to be either right or pru- dent, and who, in consequence, tormented him with letters of remonstrance and reproach, which, as from their nature may easily be imagined, were written in a petulant and acrimonious style. In addition, there was one subject, which had long been a particular annoyance to him, and on which be had been more pertinaciously urged and fretted than on every other. This was a scheme for abolishing subscription to the Confession of Faith and Formula. Into this scheme, which he had avowed his determination to resist, whatever shape it might assume, many of his friends had zealously entered, and his patience was severely tried by their " beseeching or be- sieging" him with respect to so important an object. By his cautious and persuasive policy, he had for a considerable period prevented the contro- versy from being agitated in the assemblies ; but he was of opinion that it would ultimately compel attention, and would give rise to vehement dis- {)utes ; and it was this circumstance, as he himself confessed, that "at east confirmed his resolution to retire." Having rendered triumphant a cause which, to say the least, had nume- rous enemies, it was hardly to be supposed that his character would not be aspersed by many of those who were mortified to witness his success. xxvin THE LIFE OF Accordingly, the charge of having deserted the genuine principles of the Scottish church was often urged against him by some of his antagonists. Others, who had more of the zealot in their composition, did not stop here. These went so far as to accuse him of being indifferent to Christianity itself ; and, in proof of this, they alleged his habits of intimacy with Hume, and his correspondence with Gibbon. It is difficult to say whether this stupid calumny ought to excite anger or contempt. This, however, was the language of only malignant hearts, or little minds. By the great majority, even of those who were in opposition to him, full justice was done to his virtues, his talents, and the purity of his motives. Among those who, believing patronage to be a nuisance, were the most strenuous in contending with him, was Dr. Erskine, his college mate, and colleague in the ministry. That venerable and learned person always preserved for him a warm esteem, and, after the historian was no more, paid to his memory an animated and affectionate tribute from the pulpit. "His speeches in church courts," says Dr. Erskine, " were ad- mired by those whom they did not convince, and acquired and preserved him an influence over a majority in them, which none before him enjoyed ; though his measures were sometimes new, and warmly, and with great strength of argument, opposed, both from the press, and in the General Assembly. To this influence many causes contributed : his firm adhe- rence to the principles of church policy, which he early adopted ; his sagacity in forming plans ; his steadiness in executing them ; his quick dis- cernment of whatever might hinder or promote his designs ; his boldness in encountering difficulties ; his presence of mind in improving every occa- sional advantage; the address with which, when he saw it necessary, he could make an honourable retreat; and his skill in stating a vote, and seizing the favourable moment for ending a debate and urging a decision. He guided and governed others, without seeming to assume any superiority over them ; and fixed and strengthened his power, by often, in matters of form and expediency, preferring tlie opinions of those with whom, he acted, to his own. In former times, hardly any rose up to speak in the General Assembly, till called upon by the Moderator, unless men advanced in years, of high rank, or of established characters. His example and influence en- couraged young men of abilities to take their share of public business ; and thus deprived Moderators of an engine for preventing causes being fairly and impartially discussed. The power of others, who formerly had in some measure guided ecclesiastical affairs, was derived from ministers of state, and expired with their fall. He remained unhurt amidst fretjuent changes of administration. Great men in office were always ready to countenance him, to co-operate with him, and to avail themselves oi his aid. But he judged for himself, and scorned to be their slave, or to submit to receive their instructions. Hence, his influence, not confined to men of mercenary views, extended to many of a free and independent spirit, who supported, because they approved, his measures ; which others, from the same independent spirit, thought it their duty steadily to oppose. " Deliberate in forming his judgment, but, when formed, not easily moved to renounce it, he sometimes viewed the altered plans of otiiers with too suspicious an eye. Hence, there were able and worthy men, ol' whom he expressed himself less favourably, and whose later appearances in church judicatories he censured as inconsistent with principles they had formerly professed : while they maintained, that the system of managing church affairs was changed, not their opinions or conduct. Still, however, keen and determined opposition to his schemes of ecclesiastical policy neither extinguished his esteem nor forfeited his friendly offices, when he saw opposition carried on without rancour, and when he believed that it originated from conscience and principle, not from personal animosity, or envy, or ambition." DR. ROBERTSON. Mix Of his private character, Dr. Erskine adds, that " he enjoyed the boun- ties of Providence, without running into riot ; was temperate without aus- terity; condescending and affable without meanness; and in expense nei- ther sordid nor prodigal. He could feel m injury, and yet bridle his pas- sion ; was grave, not sullen ; steady, not obstinate ; friendly, not officious ; prudent and cautious, not timid." Than the triumph whicli the principles of Dr. Robertson obtained in the General Assembly notliing could be more complete; and it was the more llattering, inasmuch as it was consummated after he had ceased to take a part in the debates. It had, from the year 1736, been the custom, annually, for the Assembly to instruct the Commission, " to make due ap- plication to the king and parliament for redress of the grievance of patron- age, in case a favourable opportunity for doing so should occur." So cau- tious was the policy of Dr. Robertson, that, although he had entirely sub- verted the very groundwork on which this instruction was raised, he never chose to move that it should be expunged. He knew that it was popular whh the great body of the people, and, therefore, he did not think it ex- pedient to risk the chance of dissension in the Assembly, by an unnecessary and idle attack upon this shadow of a shade. In the year 1784, however, it was omitted, without any struggle being made in its favour, and it has never since been renewed. Whether the system established by him has contributed to the harmony and welfare of the Scottish church is a question which yet remains unde- cided. It is urged, by the friends of the system, that it has given peace to the church ; that the General Assembly is no longer occupied with angry appeals and tumultuous disputes; that instead of there being, as formerly, a necessity to call in a military force, to protect the presbytery in the act of induction, ministers are now peaceably settled ; and that the \yorst that ever happens is the secession of the discontented part of the parishioners, and the consequent erection of a separate place of worship, which they frequent only till iheir zeal cools, and then desert to rejoin the kirk. But, on the other hand, it is contended, that the peace is rather in appearance than in reality ; that, though the people have ceased to appeal to the As- sembly, their silence arises from disgust and weariness, and not from satis- faction ; that, grown too wise to enter into a protracted and fruitless con- test, they immediately set themselves to rear a seceding meeting house, which often carries off a large proportion of the parishioners ; and that, by this quiet but continual increase of seceding meetings, the influence of the established church has been gradually weakened and contracted, a spirit of disunion has been spread, and a heavy additional burden has been imposed on property of every kind. But, whatever doubt may exist on this point, there seems to be none with respect to another. It is generally acknowledged that Dr. Robertson conduced greatly to give a more dignified character to the proceedings of the General Assembly, to introduce an impartial exercise of the judicial authority of the church, and to diffuse the prmciples of tolerance among men who had hitherto prided themselves on their utter contempt of them. In such respect are his decisions held, that they still form a sort of com mon law m the church ; and the time which elapsed between his being chosen Principal of the University and his withdrawing from public life, is distinguished by the name of Dr. Robertson's administration It is in his capacity of Principal that he is next to be considered. In this important office he displayed his wonted activity and talent. He began the performance of his duties, as his predecessors had done, by delivering annually a Latin discourse before the University. Of these orations, the first, the object of which was to recommend the study of classical learn- ing, was delivered on the third of February, 1763. It is said, among nu- merous other splendid passages, to have contained a beautiful panegyric XXX THE LIFE OF on the stoical philosophy. In the following year, his discourse "consisted chiefly of moral and literary observations, adapted to the particular cir cumstances of youth," and the style is affirmed to be " uncommonly elegant and impressive, and possessed of all the distinguishing characteristics of his English compositions." In 1765 and 1766, he chose for his theme the comparative advantages of public and private education; a subject which fae treated in a masterly manner. After 1766 these annual lectures ceased his time being too fully occupied to allow of the continuance of them. But, though his lectures were of necessity discontinued, he never remit- ted in his attention even to the minutest duties of his office. He appeai-s, indeed, to have fell a filial anxiety to omit nothing which could assist in giving lustre to the University at which his own talents had been cultivated. vVith very slender funds, he made large additions to the public library; he planned or reformed most of the literary and medical societies, which have raised Edinburgh to such eminence as a seminary of learning, and a focus ot literature ; and he contrived to preserve an uninterrupted harmony among the numerous members of the body which he superintendedf. "The good sense, temper, and address," says professor Stewart, "with which he presided for thirty years at our university meetings, were attended with effects no less essential to our prosperity; and are attested by a fact which is perhaps witliout a parallel in the annals of any other literary community, that during the whole of that period there did not occur a single question which was not terminated by a unanimous decision." To his exertions Scotland is also chiefly indebted for its Royal Society, which received its charter of incorporation in March, 1763. The basis of this establishment was the Philosophical Society, the founder nf which was the celebrated Maclaurin. In his zeal to give all possible lustre to the new institution, by drawing together men of every species ot merit. Dr. Ro- bertson seetns, lor once, to have acted with less than his usual liberality. An antiquarian society, at the head of which was the earl of Buchan, had, two years lj«fore, been formed in the Scottish metropolis ; and this body also was desirous to obtain the royal charter. The application which it made to the crown was, however, eagerly opposed, in a " Memorial from the principal and professors of the University of Edinburgh." This me- morial is signed by Dr. Robertson ; but it is so feeble in composition as well as in reasoning, that it is difficult to believe it to have flowed from his pen. The argument on which it wholly relies is, that " narrow countries" cannot supply materials tor more than one society ; that Scotland is such a country ; and, therefore, that it "ought not to form its literary plans upon the model of the more extensive kingdoms in Europe, but in imitation of those which are more circumscribed." To this hostile proceeding the antiquaries responded, in a long memorial, which was penned with much acuteness, and was naturally expressive of some degree of resentment. They were successful in the contest, and their charter was granted. The labours of Dr. Robertson, as a writer, were closed by a work which entered largely info antiquarian investigation, as connected with history In 1791 he published a qu irto volume, containing his "Historical Disqui- sition concerning the Knowledge whicii the Ancients had of India; and the Progress of Trade with that Country prior to the Discovery of the Passage to it by the Cape of Good Hope." An Appendix was dedicated to ob- servations on the civil policy, the laws and judicial proceedings, the arts, the sciences, and the religious institutions of the Indians. This subject, which occupied him twelve months, was suggested to him by the perusal of major Rennell's Memoirs for illustrating his History of Hindostan, and was origi- nally taken up with nootherobject than his own amusement and in:5truction. That it would become as popular as his other productions was, tVom its nature, not to be expected, but it obtained an honourable share of public DR. ROBERTSON. xsxi approbation ; and, though it has since been partly superseded by more elaborate inquiries, which, however, were grounded on more ample mate- rials, it will always retain a certain degree of value, and will be con- sidered as a proof of his industry, of his habits of research, and of the solidity of his judgment. The latter years of Dr. Robertson's existence were passed in the well earned enjoyment of honourable leisure. But, though he ceased to write, he did not cease to be studious. Till the end of his life he is said to have risen early, and to have given up no part of his time to company before the hour of dinner. What he was in the moments of social ease has been so excellently described by professor Stewart, that his own words ought to be used. "A rich stock of miscellaneous information, acquired from books and trom an extensive intercourse with the world, together with a perfect acquaintance at all times with the topics of the day, and the soundest sagacity and good sense applied to the occurrences of common life, rendered him the most instructive and agreeable of companions. He seldom aimed at art; but, with his intimate friends, he often indulged a sportive and fanciful species of humour. He delighted in good natured, characteristical anecdotes of his acquaintance, and added powerfully to their effect by his own enjoyment in relating them. He was, in a remark- able degree, susceptible of the ludicrous ; but on no occasion did he foiget the dignity of his character, or the decorum of his profession ; nor did he ever lose sight of that classical taste which adorned his compositions. His turn of expression was correct and pure; sometimes, perhaps, inclining more than is expected, in the carelessness of a social hour, to formal and artificial periods; but it was stamped with his own manner no less than his premeditated style : it was always the language of a superior and a culti- vated mind, and it embellished every subject on which he spoke. In the co'upany of strangers, he increased his exertions to amuse and to inform ; and the splendid variety of his conversation was commonly the chief cir- cumstance on which they dwelt in enumerating his talents; and yet, I must acknowledge, for my own part, that much as 1 always admired his powers when they were thus called forth, I enjoyed his society less than when I saw him in the circle of his intimates, or in the bosom of his family." It is not one of the least amiable features of his character, that, though he was not forward to volunteer his advice, yet, when he was consulted by his young acquaintance, as was very often the case, " he entered into their concerns with the most lively interest, and seemed to have a pleasure and a pride in imparting to them ail the lights of his experience and wisdom." It was about the end of the year 1791 that the health of Dr. Robertson began to manliest indications of decline. Strong symptoms of jaundice next appeared, his constitution was sapped, and a lingering and fatal illness ensued. His spirits, however, remained unbroken. Till within a few months of his death, he persisted in ofhciating as a minister. When his decaying strength no longer allowed him to perform his clerical duties, he retired to Grange House, in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, that he might have the advantage of more quiet, a pure air, and the sight of those rural and picturesque objects in which he had ever delighted. "While he was able to walk abroad," says Mr. Stewart, "he commonly passed a part of the day in a small garden, enjoying the simple gratifications it affcrded with all his wonted relish. Some who now hear noe will long remember, among the trivial yet interesting incidents which marked these last weeks of his memorable lite, his daily visits to the fruit trees (which were then in blossom), and the smile with which he, more than once, contrasted the interest he took in their progress, with the event which was to happen before their maturity." It was while be was thus lingering on the \eiy.e of the grave, that he was visited by two gentlemen from New-York, who xxsii LI FE OF DR. Robertson. were extremely anxious for an interview with him. He rallied all his Eowers to entertain his guests, and to inspire in their minds a feelins: of indness towards the parent land of the late colonists; and, on their rising; to take leave, he said to them, in accents at once dignitied and pathetic, " When you go home, tell your countrymen that you saw the wreck of Dr. Rohertson." In less than two months that wreck disappeared in the ocean of eternity. He expired, with the fortitude which became him, on the 11th of July, 1793, in the seventy-first year of his age, and the fiftieth of his ministry. So much has been written hy others, respecting the literary merit of Dr. Robertson, that on this point it is unnecessary, even would my con fined limits permit me, to enter into a lengthened discussion. His style has less of careless easy grace, but has more of equable dignity, than that of Hume ; it does not display the masterly modulation, but it f)as none of the occasional obscurity and meretricious ornament, of that of Gibbon ; it is well balanced, unstained by vulgarisms, more idiomatically English than might be expected from a native of Scotland, and is defective, per- haps, only in being too uniformly of an elevated tone. In arranging and linking together into one harmomous whole the scattered parts of his sub- ject, he is eminently happy ; and in delineating characters, manners, and scenery, in making vividly present to the mind that which he describes, he has few rivals, and no superiors. If all that has been urged against his works be admitted, and some of it cannot be denied, it may nevertheless safely be affirmed, that the balance heavily preponderates in his favour, and that he will always continue to rank in the first class of modern historians. PREFACE. In fulfilling the engagement which I had come under to the Public with respect to the History of America, it was my intention not to have pub- lished any part of the Work until the whole was completed. The present state of the British colonies has induced me to alter that resolution. While they are engaged in civil war with Great Britain, inquiries and specula- tions concerning their ancient forms of policy and laws, which exist no longer, cannot be interesting. The attention and expectation of mankind 4re now turned towards their future condition. In whatever manner this unhappy contest may terminate, a new order of things must arise in North America, and its affairs will assume another aspect. I wait with the soli- citude of a good citizen, until the ferment subside, and regular government be re-established, and then I shall return to this part of my work, in which I had made some progress. That, together with the history of Portuguese America, and of the settlements made by the several nations of Europe in the West India Islands, will complete my plan. The three volumes which I now publish contain an account of the dis- covery of the New World, and of the progress of the Spanish arms and colonies there. This is not only the most splendid portion of the American story, but so much detached, as by itself to form a perfect whole, remark- able for the unity of the subject. As the principles and maxims of the Spaniards in planting colonies, which have been adopted in some measure by every nation, are unfolded in this part of my work; it will serve as a proper introduction to the history of all the European establishments in America, and convey such information concerning this important article of policy, as may be deemed no less interesting than curious. In describing the achievements and institutions of the Spaniards in the New World, I have departed in many instances, from the accounts of pre- ceding historians, and have often related facts which seem to have been un- known to them. It is a duty I'owe the Public to mention the sources from which I have derived such intelligence which justifies me either in placing transactions in a new light, or in forming any new opinion with respect to their causes and effects. This duty I perform with greater satisfaction, as it will afford an opportunity of expressing my gratitude to those benefactors who have honoured me with their countenance and aid in my researches. As it was from Spain that I had to expect the most important information, with regard to this part of my work, I considered it as a very fortunate circumstance for me, when Lord Grantham, to whom I had the honour of being personally known, and with whose liberality of sentiment, and dis- position to oblige, I was well acquainted, was appointed ambassador to the court of Madrid. Upon applying to him, I met with such a reception as satisfied me that his endeavours would be employed in the most proper manner, in order to obtain the gratification of my wishes ; and I am per- fectly sensible, that what progress I have made in my inquiries among the Spaniards, ought to be ascribed chiefly to their knowing how much his lordship interested himself in my success. But did I owe nothing more to Lord Grantham than the advantages which I have derived from his attention in engaging Mr. Waddilove, the chaplain of his embassy, to take the conduct of my literary inquiries in Spain, the obligations I lie under to him would be very great. During five years that gentleman has carried on researches for my behoof, with such activity, perseverance, and knowledge of the subject, to which his attention was turned, as have filled me with no less astonishment than satisfaction. He procured for me the greater part of the Spanish books which I have consulted ; and as many of them were printed early in the sixteenth cen- tury, and are become extremely rate, the collecting of these was such an 4 PREFACE. occupation as alone required much time and assiduity. To his friendly attention I am indebted for copies of several valuaTjIe manuscripts, con- taining facts and details which I might have searched for in vain in works that have been made public. Encourai2:ed by the invitins: good will with which Mr. Waddilove conferred his favours, I transmitted to him a set of queries, with respect both to the customs and policy of the native Ameri- cans, and the nature of several institutions in the Spanish settlements, framed in such a manner that a Spaniard might answer them without dis- closing any thing that was im]iroper to be conununicated to a foreigner. He translated these into Spanish, and obtained from various persons who had resided in most of the Spanish colonies, such replies as have aflbrded me much instruction. Notwithstanding those peculiar advanta<^es with which my inquiries were carried on in Spain, it is with regret I am obliged to add, that their success must be ascribed to the bencfirenre a( individuals, not to any communication by public authority. By a singular arrangement of Philip II. the records of the Spanish monarchy are deposited in the Jlrchivo of Simancas, near Valladolid, at the distance of a hundred and twenty miles from the seat of government and tiie supreme courts of justice. The papers relative to America, and chiefly to that early period of its history towards which my attention was directed, are so numerous, that they alone, according to one account, fill the largest apartment in the Archivo; and, according to another, they compose eight hundred and seventy-lliree large bundles. Conscious of possessing, in some degree, the industiy which belongs to an historian, tlie prospect of such a treasure excited my most ardent curiosity. But the prospect of it is all that I have enjoyed. Spain, with an excess of caution, has uniformly thrown a veil over her transactions in America. From strangers they are concealed with peculiar solicitude. Even to her own subjects the Archivo of Simancas is not opened without a particular order from the crown; and, after obtaining that, papers cannot be copied without pajn'ng fees of office so exorbitant that the expense exceeds what it would be proper to bestow, when the gratification of lite- rary curiosity is the only object. It is to be hoped, that the Spaniards will at last discover this system of concealment to be no. less impolitic than illiberal. From what I have expeiienced in the course of my inquiries, I am satisfied, that upon a more minute scrutiny into their early operations in the New World, however reprehensible the actions of individuals may appear, the conduct of the nation will be placed in a uiore favourable light. In other parts of Europe very different sentiments prevail. Having searched, without success, in Spain, for a letter of Cortes to Charles V., written soon after he landed in the Mexican Empire, which has not hitherto been published; it occurred tome, that as the Emperor was setting out for Germany at the time when the messengers from Cortes arrived in Europe, the letter with which they were intrusted might possibly be pre- served in the imperial library at ^^ienna. I conmiunicated this idea to Sir Hobert Murray Keilh, with whom I have long had tlie honour to live in friendship, and 1 had soon the pleasure to learn, that upon his application her !n\per!al Majesty had been graciously p!e;:sed to issue an order-, that not only a copy of that letter (if it were found), hut of any other pajieis in thft library which could throw light upon the History oi Arnerica. "iiouid be transmitted to me, The letter frotn Cortes is tiof in the Impciiai library; btit an authentic copy, allested .by a iiotary, of the 'eiier vxiiiien by the magistrates of the colony planted by hiu) at Vera Cruz, which I have mentioned, p. ~1 J, having been found, it w-.s transcrifed, ?nd seni to me. As this letter is no 'ess curious, .-^nd ?s little knc-wti ;'.^.tl;al wl ich was ihe object of my i.iqui ies,"! h; ve jriven sor' e f1c6 i.'r".t, in it? \, o; er plyre,o'" whit is most .\orrhv,oi not'cedo it. ': 0}ie".he;v, ith t, I leceived a c.)tiy of a letter fro";i Cories. r(:n*ai..i(ir a .'>ir.g ; ccout.t of lus expedition to Honduras, with respect to which Lciid^n.oi IJtiiM" ii •»ecc'ssary to ente*- PREFACE. 5 into any particular detail ; and likewise those curious Mexican paintings, which I have described, p. 321. My inquiries at St. Petersburg were carried on with equal facility and success. In examining into the nearest communication between our conti- nent and that of America, it became of consequence to obtain authentic information concerning the discoveries of the Russians in their navigation from Kamchatka towards the coast of America. Accurate relations of their first voyage, in 1741, have been published by MuJler and GmeJin. Several foreign authors have entertained an opinion that the court of Russia studiously conceals the progress whicli has been made by more recent navigators, and suffers the Public to be amused with false accounts of their route. Such conduct appeared to me unsuitable to those liberal senti- ments, and that patrona2;e of science, for which the present sovereign of Russia is eminent; nor could I discern any political reason, that might render it improper to apply for information concerning the late attempts of the Russians to open a communication between Asia and America. My ingenious countryman. Dr. Rogerson, first physician to the Empress, pre- sented my request to Her Imperial Majesty, who not only disclaimed any idea of concealment, but instantly ordered the journal of Captain Krenitzin, who conducted the only voyage of discovery made by public authority since the year 1741, to be translated, and his original chart to be copied for my use. By consulting them, I have been enabled to give a more accurate view of the progress and extent of the Russian discoveries than has hitherto been communicated to the Public. From other quarters I have received information of great utility and importance. M. le Chevalier de Pinto, the minister from Portugal to the court of Great Britain, Avho commaniied for several years at Matagrosso, a settlement of the Portuguese in the interior part of Brazil, where the Indians are numerous, and their original manners litUe altered by inter- course with Europeans, was pleased to send me veiy full answers to some queries concerning the character and institutions of the natives of America, which his polite reception of an application made to him in my name encouraged me to propose. These satisfied me, that he had contemplated with a discerning attention the curious objects Avhich his situation presented to his view, and I have often followed him as one of my best instructed guides. M. Suard, to Avhose elegant translation of the History of the Reign of Charles V., 1 owe the favourable recej)tion of that work on the continent, procured me answers to the same queries from M. de Bougainville, who had opportunities of observing the Indians both of North and South Ame- rica, and from M. Godin le Jeune, who resided fifteen years among Indians in Quito, and twenty years in Cayenne. The latter are more valuable from having been examined by M. de la Condamine, who, a few weeks before his death, made some short additions to them, which may be considered as the last effort of that attention to science which occupied a long life. My inquiries were not confined to one region in America. Governor Hutch- inson took the tiouble of recommending the consideration of my queries to Mr. Hawley and Mr. Brainoni, two protestant missionaries employed among the Indians of the Five Nations, who favoured me with answers which discover a considerable knowledge of the people whose customs they describe. From William Smith, Esq. the ingenious historian of New York, I received some useful information. When I enter upon the History of our Colonies in North America, I shall have occasion to acknowledge how much I have been indebted to many othergentlemen of that countr}-. From the valuable Collection of Voyages made by Alexander Dalryinpic, Esq., with whose attention to the History of Navigation and Discovery the Public is well acquainted, I have received some very rare books, particu- larly two large volumes of Memorials, partly manuscript and partly in )rint, which were presented to the court of Spain during the reigns of ^^hilip III. and Philip IV. From these 1 have learned many curious par- f. 6 PREFACE. ticulars with respect to the interior state of the Spanish colonies, and the various schemes formed for their improvement. As this collection of Memorials formerly belonged to the Colbert Library, I have quoted them by that title. All those books and manuscripts I have consulted with that attention ■vfrhich the respect due from an Author to the Public required; and by minute references to them, I have endeavoured to authenticate Avhatever I relate. The longer I reflect on the nature of historical composition, the more I am convinced that this scrupulous accuracy is necessary. The his- torian who records the events of his own time, is credited in proportion to the opinion which the Public entertains with respect to his means of infor- mation and his veracity. He who delineates the transactions of a remote period, has no title to claim assent, unless he produces evidence in proof of his assertions. Without this he may write an amusing tale, but cannot be said to hav(^ composed an authentic histoiy. In those sentiments I have been confirmed by the opinion of an Author,* whom his industry, erudition, and discernment, have deservedly placed in a high rank among the most eminent historians of the age. Imboldened by a hint from tiim, I have published a catalogue of the Spanish books which I have consulted. This practice was frequent in the last cenlury, and was considered as an evi- dence of laudable industry in an author; in the present, it may, perhaps, be deemed the effect of ostentation ; but, as many of these books are unknown in Great Britain, 1 could not otherwise have referred to them as authoriti('S, without cncumljering the page with an insertion of their full titles. To any person who may choose to follow me in this path of inquiry, the catalogue must be veiy useful. My readers will observe, that in mentioning sums of money, I have uniformly followed the Spanish method of computing by pesos. In Ame- rica, the peso fiierte, or duro, is the only one known ; and that is ahvays meant when any sum imported from America is mentioned. The peso fuerte, as well as other coins, has varied in its numerary value; but I have been advised, without attending to such minute variations, to consider it as equal to four shillings and six-pence of our money. It is to be remembered, however, that, in the sixteenth century, the effective value of a peso, i. e. the quantity of labour which it represented, or of goods which it Avould purchase, was five or six times as much as at present. N. B. Since this edition was put into the press, a History of Mexico, in two volumes in quarto, translated from the Italian of the Abbe D. Francesco Sa- verio Clavigero, has been publii^hed. From a person v,-ho is a native of New Spain, who has resided forty years in that country, and who is acquainted with the Mexican language, it was natural to expect much new information. Upon perusing his work, liowever, I find that it contains hardly any addition to the ancient History of the Mexican empire, as related by Acosta and Hcrrera, but what is derived from the improbable narratives and fanciful conjectures of Tor- quemada and Botuilni. Having copied their splendid descriptions of the high 6tate of civilization in the Mexican empire, M. Clavigero, in the abundance of Ills zeal for the honour of his native country, charges mo with having mistaken some points, and with having misrepresented others, in the history of it. Wlien an author is conscious of having exerted industry in research, and impartiality in decision, he may, without presumption, claim what praise is due to these qualities, and he cannot be insensible to any accusation tliat tends to weaken the force of his claim. A feeling of this kind has induced me to examine such strictures of M. Clavigero on my history of America as merited an)' attention, especially as these are made by one who seemed to possess the means of ob- tainmg accurate information ; and to show that the greater part of them is des- titute of any just foundation. This I have done in notes upon the passages in my History which gave rise to his criticisms. College of Edinburgh, MarcK 1, 1783. ♦ Mt Cjljhon CONTENTS. BOOK I. Progress of Navigation among the ancients — View of their dis- coveries as preparatory to those of the moderns — Imperfection of ancient navigation and geogra- piiy — Doctrine of the zones — Further discoveries checked by the irruption of barbarous na- tions — Geographical knowledge still preserved in the East, and among the Arabians — Revival of commerce and navigation in Europe — favoured by the Croi- sades — extended by travellers into the East — promoted by the invention of the mariner's com- pass — First regular plan of dis- covery formed by Portugal — State of that kingdom-Schemes of Prince Henry-Early attempts feeble — Progress along the west- ern coast of Africa — Hopes of discovering a new route to the East Indies — Attempts to ac- complish this — prospects of suc- cess feoOK II. Dirth and education of Columbus — acquires naval skill in the ser- vice of Portugal — conceives Lopes of reaching the East In- dies by holding a westerly course — his system founded on the ideasof the ancients, and know- ledge of their navigation — and on the discoveries of the Portu- guese — his negotiations with dif- ferent courts — Obstacles which he had to surmount in Spain — Voyage of discovery — difficul- ties — success — return to Spain — Astonishment of mankind on this discovery of a new world — Papal grant of it — Second voyage — Colony settled — Fur- ther discoveries — War with the Indians — First tax imposed on them — Third voyage — He dis- covers the Continent — State of 17 Page the Spanish colonj' — Errors in the first system of colonizing — Voyage of the Portuguese to the East Indies by the Cape of Good Hope — Effects of this — discove- ries made by private adventurers in the New World — Name of America given to it — Machina- tions against Columbus — dis- graced a,nd sent in chains to Europe — Fourth voyage of Co- lumbus — His discoveries — dis- asters — death 42 BOOK in. State of the colony in Hispaniola — New war with the Indians — Cruelty of the Spaniards — Fatal regulations concerning the con- dition of the Indians — Diminu- tion of that people — Discoveries and settlements — First colony planted on the Continent — Con- quest of Cuba — Discovery of Florida — of the South Sea — Great expectations raised by this — Causes of disappointment M'ith respect to these for some time — Controversy concerning the treatment of the Indians — ■ Contrary decisions — Zeal of the ecclesiastics, particularly of Las Casas — Singular proceedings of Ximenes — Negroes imported in- to America — Las Casas' idea of a new colony — permitted to at- tempt it — unsuccessful — Disco- veries towards the West — Yu- catan — Campeachy— New Spaiii — preparations for invading it . 02 BOOK IV. View of America when first dis- covered, and of thr manners and policy of its most uncivil- ized inhabitants — Vast extent of America — grandeur of the objects it presents to view — its mountains — rivers — Inkes — its form favourable to commerce — temperature — predominance of cold — causes of this — unculti- CONTENTS. Page vated — unwholesome — its ani- mals — soil — Inquiry how Ameri- ca was peopled — various theo- ries — what appears most proba- ble — Condiiion and character of the Americans — All, the Mexi- cans and Peruvians excepted, in the state of savages — Inquiry confined to the uncivilized tribes — Difficulty of obtaining infor- mation — various causes of this — Method observed in the in- quiry — I. The bodily constitu- tion of the Americans considered — II. The qualities of their minds — III. Their domestic state — IV. Their political state and institu- tions — V. Their system of war and pul)lic security — VI. The arts with which they were ac- quainted — VII. Their religious ideas and institutions — VIII. Such singular and detached cus- toms as are not reducilile to any of the former heads — IX. Gene- ral review and estimate of their virtues and defects .... 122 BOOK V. History of the cor.quest of New Spain by Cortes 197 BOOK VI. History of the conquest of Peru by Pizarro — and of tlie dissen- sions and civil wars of the Spa- niards in that country — Origin, progress, and effects of these . 261 BOOK VII. View of the institutions and mati- nerii of the Mexicans and Pe- ruvians — Ci VI lized.-:tates in com- parison of other Americans — Recent origin of the Mexicans — Facts which prove their pro- gress in civilization-Vie w of their policy in its various branches — of their arts — Facts which indi- cate a small progress in civiliza- tion — What opinion should be formed on coiiiparitig those con- tradictory facts — Genius of their religion — Peruvian monarchy more ancient — its policy founded on religion — Singular effects of < this — Peculiar slate of property among the Peruvians — Their public works and arts — roads — bridges — buildings — Their un- Page warlike spirit — View of other dominions of Spain in America — Cinaloa and Sonora — Califor- nia — Yucatan and Honduras — Chili — Tucuman — Kingdom of Tierra Firme — New Kingdom of Granada 313 BOOK VIII. View of the interior government, commerce, &c. of the Spanish colonies-- Depopulation of Ame- rica — first cti'ects of their settle- ments — not the consequence of any system of policy — nor to be imputed to religion — Number of Indians still reuiaming — Funda- mental maxims on which the Spanish system of colonization is luuiided — Condition ot' diifer- ent orders of men in their colo- nies—Chapetoncs— Creoles — Ne- groes — Indians — Ecclesiastical state and policy — Character of secular and regular clergy-Small progress of Christianity among the natives — Mines, chief object of their attention — Mode of working these — their produce — ■ Effects of encouraging this spe- cies of industry — Other com- modities of Spanish America — First eflects of this new com- merce v.ith America on Spain — Why the Spanish colonies have not been as beneficial to the pa- rent state as those of other na- tions — Errors in the Spanish system of regulating this com- merce — confined In one port — • carried on by annual fleets — Contraband trade — Decline of Spain both in population and wealth — Remedies proposed — View of the wise regulations of the Bourbon princes — A new and more liberal system introduced — beneficial effects of this — pro- bable consequences — Trade be- tween New Spain and the Phi- lippines—Revenue of Spain from America — whence it arises — to what it amounts 34" BOOK IX. History of Virginia to the year 1688, 389 BOOK X. History of New England to the year 1632 426 CATALOGUE OF SPANISH BOOKS AND MANUSCRIPTS. A Carf.tte de Biscay, Relation des Voyages dans la Kiviere Je la Plata, et dc la par I'erre au Perou. Exst. Recueil do Theveiiot. Part IV. A Voyage up the River dc la Plata, and thence by Land to Peru. 8vo. London, itiaS. Acosta (P. Jos. de) Historia Natu- ral y Moral de las Indias. 4to. Ma- drid, 1590. (Joseph de) Histoire Natu- rclle et Morale des Indes tant Orien- tales qu' Occidentales. 8vo. Paris, 1600. Novi OrbisHistoria Naturalis et Moralis. Exst. in Collect. Theod. de Bry. Pars IX. De Natura Novi Orhis, Libri duo, et de procuranda Indorum Salute, Libri sex. Salmant. 8vo. 15o9. (Christ.) Tratadodelas Dro- gasyMedocinas,de las Indias Occiden- tales, con sus Plantas Dibuxadas al vivo. 4to. Burgos, 1578. Acugna (P. Christoph.) Relation de la Reviere des Amazones. 12mo. Tom. ii. Paris, 1G8-2. Acugna's Relation of the great River of the Amazons in South America. 8vo. London, 1698. Alarchon (Fern.) Navigations a Scoprere il Regno di sette Citta. Ra- musio iii. 363. Albuquerque Coello (Duart6 de) Memorial de Artcs de la Guerra del Brasil.4to. Mad. 1634. Alcafarado (Franc.) An Historical Relation of the Discovery of the Isle of Madeira. 4to. Lond. 1675. Al(,edo y Herrcra (D. Dionysio de) Aviso Historico-Politico-Geografico. con las Noticias mas particulares, del Peru, Tiorra Firrao, Chili, y Nuevo Reyno de Granada. 4to. Mad. 1740. Al(;edo Compendi Historico de la Provinciay Puerto de Guayaquil. 4to. Mad. 1741. ^Memorial sobre diferentes Puntos tocantcs al estado de la real hazienda y del commcrcio, &c. en las Indias. fol. Vol.. 1.-^2 Aldama y Guevara (D. Joe. Augus- tin de) Arde de la Lengua Mexicana. l^nio. Mexico, 1754. Alvarado (Pedro de) Dos Relaciones a Iiern. Cortes rei'eriendole sus Expc- diciones y Conquistas en \ arias Pro- vincias de N. Espagna. Exst. Barcia Hisloriad. Primit. torn. i. Lettere due, &c. Exst. Re>- mus. iii. 296. Aparicio y Leon (D. Lorenzo de) DiscursoHistorico-Politico del Hospital San Lazaro de Lima. 8vo. Lim. 1761. Aranzeles Reales delos Ministros de la Real Audiencia de N. Espagna. fol. Mex. 1727. Argensola (Bartolome Leonardo de) Conquista de las Islas Malucas, fol. Mad. 1609. Analcs de Aragon. fol. Sara- go<;a, 1630. Arguello (Eman.) Sentum Confee- sionis. 12mo. Mex. 1703. Arriago (P. Pablo Jos. de) Extirpa- cian de la Idolatria de Peru. 4to. Lima, 1621. Avendagno (Didac.) Thesaurus In- dicus, ceu Gcneralis Instructor pro Re- gimine Conscientia;, in ijs quas ad In- dias spectant. fol. 2 vols. Antwerp, 1660. Aznar (D Bern, Fran.) Discurso tocante a la real hazienda y adminifi- tracion de ella. 4to. Bandini (Angelo Maria) Vita 4 Let- tere di Armerigo Vespucci . 4to. Firenzc. 1745. Barcia (D. And. Gonzal.) Historia- dores Primitivos de las Indias Occiden- tales, fol. 3 vols. Mad. 1749. Barco-Centincra (D. Martin de) Ar- gentina y Conquista del Rio de la Plata : Poema. Exst. Barcia Histo- riad. Primit. iii. Barros (Joao de) Decadas de Asia, fol. 4 vols. Lisboa, 1682. BcUcsteros (D. Thomas de) Orde- nanzas del Peru.fol.2 vols. Lima, 1685. Beltran (P. F. Pedro) Artcdeelldi- oma Maya reducido a sucintas roglae, y Semilexicon. 4to. Mex. 1746. 10 A CATALOGUE OF Benzo (Hieron.) Novi Orbis Histo- riee — De Bry America, Part IV, V, VI. Betancurt y P'igueroa (Don Luis) Dcrecho de las Inglesias Metropoli ta- nas do las Indias. 4to. Mad. 1637. Blanco (F. Matias Ruiz) Conversion tie Piritu de Indios Cumanagotos y otros. 12mo. Mad. 1090. Boturini Bcnaduci (Lorenzo) Idcade una nueva Historia general de la Ame- rica Septentrional, f undada sobre ma- terial copiosa de Figuras, Symbolas, Caracieres, Cantares, y Manuscritos de Autores Indios. 4to. Mad. 1746. Botello de Moraes y Vasconcellos (D. Francisco do) El Nuevo Mundo : Poema Heroyco. 4to. Barcelona, 1701. Botero Benes (Juan) Description de Todas las Provincias, Reynos, y Ciu- dades del Mundo. 4to. Girona, 1748. Brietius (Phil.) Paralela Geographise Veteris et Novae. 4to. Paris, 1648. Cabeza de Baca (Alvar. Nugnez) Kelacion de los Naufragios. Exst. Bar- cia Hist. Prim. torn. i. Examen Apologetico de la Historica Narration de los Nau- fragios. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. torn. i. Commentarios de lo euccedido duarante su gubierno del Rio de la Plata. Exst. ibid. Cabo de Vacca, Relatione de. Exst. Ramus, iii. 310. Cabota (Scbast.) Navigazione dc. Exst. Ramus, ii. 211. Cadamustus (Aloysius) Navigatio ad Terras incognitas. Exst. Nov. Orb. Gryncei, p. 1. Calancha (F. Anton, de la) Cronica moralizada del Orden de San Augustin on el Peru. fol. Barcelona, 1638. California — Diario Historico de los Viages dc Mar y Tierra hechos en 1768, al Norte de California di orden del Marques dc Croix Vi-rey de Nueva £s- pagna, &c. MS. Callc (Juan Diaz de la) Memorial Informatorio de lo que a su Magostad Provien de la Nueva Espagna y Peru. 4to. 1645. Campomanes (D. Pedro Rodrig.) Antiguedad Maritima de la Republica de Cartago, con en Periplo de su Gene- ral Hannon traducido e illustrado. 4to. Mad. 1756. Discurso sobre el fo- rncnto de la Industria popular. 8vo. Mad. 1774. Discurso sobre la Educacion popular de los Artesanos. 8vo. 5 voL Mad. 1775, &c. Caracas — Real Cedulade Fundacion de la Real Compagnia Guipuscoana de Caracas. 12mo. Alad. 1765. Caravantes (Fr. Lopez de) Rclacion de las Provincias que tiene el Govier- Ho del Peru, los Otficios que en el sa Provien, y la Hacienda que alii tiene su Magestad, lo que se Gasta dc cUa y le qucda Libre, Szc. &c. Dedicado al Marques de Santos Claros, Agr..o de 1611. MS. Cardenas y Cano (Gabr.) Ensayo Chronologico para la Historia general de la Florida, fol. Mad. 1733. Carranzana (D. Gonqales) A Geo- graphical Description of the Coasts, (fcc. of the Spanish West Indies. 8vo. Lond. 1740. Casas (Bart, de las) Brevissima Re- lacion dc la Destruycion do las Indias. 4to. 1552. (Bart, de las) Narratio Icon- ibus illustrata per Theod. de Bry. 4to. Oppent. '614. (Bart, de las) An Account of the firsts oyages and Discoveries of the Spaniarnj hi America. 8vo. Lond. 1693. Cassa^j ; (P. Joseph) Historia de la Provincia de Compagnia de Jesus del Nucvo Reyno de Granada, fol. Mad. 1741. Castanhcda (Fern. Lop. de) Historia do Dcscobrimento e Conquista de India pelos Portugueses, fol. 2 vol. Lisb. 1552. Castellanos (Juan de) Primera y Se- cunda de las Elegias de Varones Illus- tres de Indias. 4to. 2 vol. Mad. 1583. Castillo (Bernal Dias del) Historia Vcrdodcra de la Conquista de Nueva Espagna. fol. Mad. 1632. Castro, Figueroa y Salazar (D. Pe- dro de) Relacion di su ancimiento j servicios. 12mo. Cavallero (D. Jos. Garcia) Brieve Cotejo y Valance de las Pesas y Medi- das di varias Nacioncs, rcducidas a las que Corren en Castilla. 4to. Mad. 1731. Cepeda (D. Fern.) Relacion Universal del Sitio en quo esta fundada la Ciu- dad de Mexico, fol. 1637. Cie<;a dc Leon (Pedro de) Chronica del Peru. fol. Seville. 1533. Cisneros (Diego) Sitio, Naturaleza, y Propriedades de laCiudad do Mexico. 4to. Mexico. 1618. Clenicnte (P. Claudio) Tablas Chro nologicas, en que contiencn los Suce- SOS Ecclesiasticos y Secularcs de Indias. 4to. Val. 1689. Cogullado (P. Fr. Diego Lopez) Historia de Yucatan, fol. Mad. 1688. CoUecao dos Brives Pontificos e SPANISH BOOKS AND MANUSCRIPTS. 11 I,eyes Regias quo Forao Expedidos y Publicadas desde o Anno 1741, sobre a la Liberdada das Pessoas bene e Commercio dos Indos dc Bresil. CoUeccion General de la Providen- cias hasta aqui tomadas par el Gobier- no sobre el Estragnimento, y Occupa- cion deTemporalidades de los Regulares de la Compagnia de Espagna, Indias, &c. Partes IV. 4to. Mad. 1767. Colon (D. Fernando) La Historia del Almirante D. Christoval Colon. Exst. BarciaHist. Prim. I. 1. Columbus (Christ.) Navigatio qua multas Rcgiones hactenus incognitas invenit. Exst. Nov. Orb. Gryna^i, p. 90. (Ferd.) Life and Actions of his Father Admiral Christoph. Colum- bus. Exst. Churchill's Voyages, ii. 479. Compagnia Real de Commercio para las Islas de S'o- Domingo Puerto-rico, y la Margarita. 12mo. Compendio General de las Contri- buciones y gattos que occasionan todos los effectos, frutos, caudales, &c. que tra- fican entre los reynos de Castilla y America. 4to. Concilios Provinciales Primero y Se gundo celebrados en la muy Noble y muy Leal Ciudad de Mexico en los Ag- nos de 1555 y 1565. fol. Mexico, 1769. Concilium Mexicanum Provinciale tertium celebratum Mexici, anno 1585. fol. Mexici, 1770. Continente Americano, Argonauta de las costas de Nucva Espagna y Tierra Firme. 12mo. Cordeyro (Antonio) Historia Insula- na das Ilhas a Portugas sugeytas no Oceano Occidental, fol. Lisb. 1717. Corita (Dr. Alonzo) Breve y suraa- ria Relacion de los Segnores, Manera, y Differencia de ellos, que havia en la Nueva Espagna, y otras Provincias sus Comarcanas, y de sus Leyes, Usos, y Costumbres, y de la Forma que tenian en Tributar sus Vasallos en Tiempo de su Gentilidad, &:c. MS. 4to. pp. 307. Coronada (Fr. Vasq. dc) Sommario di due sue Lettere del Viaggio fatto del Fra. Marco da Nizza al sette Cilta de Cevola. Exst. Ramusio iii. 354. (Fr. Vasq. de) Relacion Viaggio alle sette Citta. Ramus, iii. 359. Cortes (Hern.) Quattro Cartas diri- gidas al Emperador Carlos V. en que ha Relacion de sus Conquistas en la Nueva Espagna. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. tom. i. Cortessii (Ferd.) Delnsulisnuper in- ventis Narrationes ad Car. V. fol. 1532. Cortese (Fern.) Relacioni, &:c. Exct. Ramusio ii. 225. Cubero (D. Pedro) Peregrinacion del Mayor Parte del Mundo. Zaragoss. 4to. 1688. Cumaua, Govierno y Noticia de. fol. MS. Davila Padilla (F. Aug.) Historia de la Fundacion y Discurso de Provincia de St. Jago de Mexico, fol. Bruss. 1625. (Gil Gonzalez) Teatro Ecclesiastico de la Primitiva Iglesia de los Indias Occidentales. fol. 2 vols. 1649. Documentos tocantesalaPcrsecucion, que los Regulares de la Compagnia sus- citaron contra Don B. do Cardenas Obispo de Paraguay. 4to. Mad. 1768. Echaveri (D. Bernardo Ibagnez dc) El Reyno Jesuitico del Paraguay. Exst. tom. iv. CoUeccion de Documen- tos. 4to. Mad. 1770. Echavey Assu (D.Francisco de) La Estrfellade Limacovertida en Sol sobre sur tres Coronas, fol. Amberes, 1688. Fguiara El Egueren (D. J. Jos.) Bib- liotheca Mexicana, sive Eruditorum Historia Virorum in America Borcali natorum, &c. tom. prim. fol.Mex. 1775. N. B. No more than one volume of this work has been published. Ercilla y Zuniga (D. Alonzo de) La Araucana: Poema Eroico. fol. Mad. 1733. 2 vols. 8vo. Mad. 1777. Escalona (D. Caspar de) Gazophy- lacium Regium Peruvicum. fol. Mad, 1775. Faria y Sousa (Manuel de) Historia del Reyno de Portugal. fol.Amber.1730. Faria y Sousa, History of Portugal from the first Ages to the Revolution under John IV.. 8vo. Lond. 1698. Fernandez (Diego) Prima y secunda Parte de la Historia del Peru. fol. Se- vill. 1571. (P. Juan Patr.) Relacion Historial do las Missioncs de los Indias que claman Chiquitos. 4to. Mad. 1726. Feyjoo (Benit. Gcron.) Espagnolos Americanos — Discurso VI. del. tom. iv. del Teatro Critico. Mad. 1769. Solucion del gran Pro- blema Historico sobre la Poblacion de la America — Discurso XV. del tom. V. de Teatro Critico. (D. Miguel) Relacion De- scriptiva de la Ciudad y Provincia Truxiilo del Peru. fol. Mad. 1763. 12 A CATALOGUE OF Freyre (Ant.) Piratas de la America. 4 to. Frasso (D. Petro) De Regio Patronatu Indiarum. fol.2 vols. Matriti, 1775. Galvao (Antonio) Tratado dos Des- cobrimeiitos Antigos y Modernos. fol. Lisboa, 1731. Galvano (Ant.) the Discoveries of the World from the first Original unto the Year 1355. Osborne's Collect, ii. 354. Gamboa (D. Fran. Xavier de) Co- mentarios a los ordinanzas de Minas. fol. Mad. 1761. Garcia (Gregorio) Historia Ecclesi- astica y Seglar de la India Oriental y Occidental, y Predicacion de la Santa Evangelia en ella. 12mo. Baeca, 1626. (Fr. Gregorio) Origen de los Indies del Nuevo Mundo. fol. Mad. 1729. Gastelu (Ant. Velasquez) Arte de Lengua Mexicana. 4to. Puibla de los Angeles. 1716. Gazeta de Mexico por los Annos 1728, 1729, 1730. 4to. Girava (Hieronymo) Dos Libros de Cosmographia. Milan, 1556. Godoy (Diego de) Relacion al H. Cortes, qua trata del Descubrimiento di diversas Ciudade?, y Provincias, y Guerras que tuio con los Indios. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. torn. i. Lettcra a Cortese, Sic. Exst. Ramusio iii. 300. Gomara (Fr. Lopez de) La Historia general de las Indias. 12mo. Anv.1554. Historia general de las Indias. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. tom. ii. (Fr. Lopez de) Chronica de laNuevaEspagnao Conquistade Mex- ico. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. tom. ii. Guatemala — Razon puntual de los Successos mas memorabiles, y de los Estragos y dannos que ha padecido la Ciudad do Guatemala, fol. 1774. Gumilla (P.Jos.) El Orinoco illustra- doydefendido; Historia Natural, Civil, y Geographica de este Gran Rio, &c. 4to. 2tom. Mad. 1743. Histoire Naturelle, Civile, et G^ographiquede POrenoque. Traduite par M. Eidous. 12mo. tom. iii. Avig. 1738. Gusman (Nugno de) Relacion scritta in Omitlan Provincia de Mechuacan dolla maggior Spagna nell 1530. Exst. Ramusio iii. 331. Henis (P. Thadeus) Ephemerides Belli Guiaranici, ab Anno 1734. Ex^l. CoUeccion general de Docum, tom. iv. Hernandes (Fran.) Plantarum Ani- malium, et Mineralium Mexicanorum Historia. fol. Rom. 1651. Herrera (Anton, de) Historia gene- ral de los Ilechos de los Caetellanos on las Islas y Tierra Firma de Mar Ocea- no. fol. 4 vols. Mad. 1601. Historia General, Sic. 4 vola. Mad. 1730. General History, Sic. Trans- lated byStephens. 8vo. 6 volLond.1740. Descriptio Indice Occidenta- lis. fol. Amst. 1622. Huemez y Horcasitas (D. .Juan Francisco de) Extracto de los Aut03 de Diligencias y reconocimicntos de Iob rios, lagunas, vcrtientes, y dcsaguas de Mexico y su valie, &c. fol. Mex. 1748. Jesuitas — CoUeccion de las applica- ciones que se van haciendo de los Cie- nes, Casas y Coligios que fueron de la Compagnia de Jesus, expatriados de estos Reales dominios. 4to. 2 vols. Lima, 1772 y 1773. CoUeccion General de Pro- videncias hasta aqui tomadas por el Gobierno sobre el Estrannamiento y Occupacion de temporalidades, de los Regulares de la Compagnia de Espag- na, Indias, e Islas Filipmas. 4to. Mad. 1767. Retrato de los Jesuitas for- mado al natural. 4to. 2 vols. Mad. 1768. Relacion Abbreviada da Re- publicaque os Religiosos Jesuitas esta- belcceraon. 12mo. Idea del Origen, Gobierno, &c. de la Compagnia de Jesus. 8vo. Mad. 1768. Lcevinins (ApoUonius) Libri V. de Peruvioe Invention, et rebus in eadem gestis. 12mo. Ant. 1367. Leon (Fr. Ruiz de) Hernandia, Poe- ma Heroyco de Conquista de Mexico. 4to. Mad. 1753. (Ant. dc) Epitome de la Biblio- theca Oriental y Occidental, Nautica y Geografica. fol. Mad. 1737. Lima : A true Account of the Earth- quake which happened there 28th of October, 1746. Translated from the Spanish. 8vo. London, 1748. Lima Gozosa, Description de las fes- tibas Demonstraciones, con que esta Ciudad celebr6 la real Proclamacion de el Nombre Augusto del Catolico MonarchoD. Carlos III. Lim.4to. 1760. SPANISH BOOKS AND MANUSCRIPTS. 13 Llano Zapata (D. Jos. Euseb.) Pre- liminar al Tomo 1. de las Memorias Historico-Physicas, Critico-Apologeti- cas do la America Meridional. 8vo. Cadiz, 1759. Lopez. (D. Juan Luis) Discurso His- torico Politico en deleuso de la Juris- dicion Real. fol. 168.5. (Thorn.) Atlas Geographico de la America Septentrional y I\leridional. 12mo. Par. 1758. Lorenzana (D. Fr. Ant.) Arzobispo de iMexico, ahora dc Toledo, Historia de Nueva Espagna, escrita por su Es- clarecido Conquistador Hernan. Cor- tes, Aumentada con otros Documentos y Notas. fol. Mex. 1770. Lozano (P. Pedro) Description Cho- rogiaphica, del Terretorios, Arboles, Aniniales del Gran Ciiaco, y de los Ri- tes y Costumbres de las innumerabiles Naciones que la habitan. 4to. Cordov. 1733. Historia de la Compagnia de Jesus en la Provincia del Paraguay, fol. 2 vols. Mad. 1753? Madriga (Pedro de) Description du Gouverneinent du Perou. Exst. Voy- ages qui ont servi a TEtablisspment de la Comp. des Indes, torn. ix. 105. Mariana (P. Juan de) Discurso de les Enfermedadcs de la Compagnia de Jesus. 4to. Mad. 1658. Martinez de la Puente (D. Jos.) Compcndio de las Historiasde los Des- cubrimientos, Conqui.stas, y Guerras de la India Oriental, y sus Islas, desde los Tiempos del Infante Don Enrique de Portugal su Inventor. 4to. Mad. 1681. Martyr ab Angleria (Petr.) Do Re- bus Oceanicis et Novo Orbe Decades tres. 12rao. Colon. 1574. De Insulis nuper inventis, et de Moribus Incolarum. Ibid. p. 329. Opus Epistolarum. fol. Amst. 1670. 11 Sommario cavato della sua Historia del Nuevo Mundo. Ra- musio iii. i. Mata (D. Geron. Fern, de) Ideas po- liticas y morales. 12mo. Toledo, 1640. Mechuacan — Relacion de las Cere- monias, Ritos, y Poblacion de los In- dies de Mechuacan hecha al I. S. D. Ant. de Mendoza Vi-rey de Nueva Espagfna. fol. MS. Melendez (Fr. Juan) Tesoros Vcr- daderos de las Indias Historia de la Provincia de S. Juan Baptista del Peru, del Orden de Predicadores. fol. 3 vols. Rom. 1681. Memorial Adjustado por D. A. Fern, de Heredia Gobernador de Ni- caragua y Honduras, fol. 1753. Memorial Adjustado contra los OflB- ciales de Casa do Moneda a Mexico de el anno 1729. fol. Mendoza (D. Ant. de) Lettera al Imperatore del Descoprimento della Terra Firma della N. Spagna verso Tramontano. Exst. Ramusio iii. 355. 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Ramus, iii. 356. Nodal — Relacion del Viage que hicie- ron los Capitanes Earth, y Gonz. de Nodal al descubrimiento del Estrecho que hoy es nombrado de Maire, y re- conocimiento del de Magellanes. 4to. Mad. Noticia Individual de los derechoB segun lo reglado en ultimo provecto de 1720. 4to. Barcelona, 1732.' Neuva Espagna — Historia fle los In- dies dcNueva Espagna dibidida en tres Partes. En la primera trata de los Ri- tos, Sacrificios y Idolatrias del Tiempo de su Gentilidad. En la seguiida de su maravillosa Conversion a la F6, y mo- do de celebrar las Fiestas de Neustra Santa Iglesia. En la tercera del Go- !4 A C A T A L o (> U £ OF nio y Caractcr de aquella Gente ; y Figuras con que iiolaban sus Aconte- ciinientos,con otras particularidades ; y Noticias de las principales Ciudades an aquel Reyno. Escrita en cl Agno 1541 por uno de los doce lleligiosos Francis- cos que primero passaron a entender en su Conversion. MS. fol. pp. 618. Ogna (Pedro de) Arauco Domado. Poema. 12mo. Mad. 1605. Ordenanzas del Conscjo real de las Indias. fol. Mad. 1681. Ortega (D. Casiiniro de) Refumen Historjco del primer Viagc hecho al redcdor del Mundo. 4to. Alad. 1769. Ossorio (Jerome) History of the Portuguese during the Reign of Em- manuel. 8vo. .2 vols. Loud. 175;^. Ossorius (Hieron.) De Rebus Ema- nuelis LusitaniiB Regis. 6vo. Col. Agr. 1752. Ovalle (Alonso) Historica Relacion del Reyno de Chili, fol. Rom. 1646. An Historical Relation of the Kingdom of Chili. E.xst. Churchill's Collect, iii. 1. Oviedo y Bagnos (D. Jos.) Historia de la Conquista y Publicaciori de Vene- zuela, fol. Mad. 1723. Sommaria, (fee. Exst. Ra- musio iii. 44. (Gonz. Fern, de) Relacion Sommaria de la Historia Natural de los Indias. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. tom. i. Historia Generale et Natu- ralc dell Indie Occidentale. Exst. Ramusio iii. 74. Relatione dclla Navigatione por la grandissima Flume Maragnon, Exst. Ramus, iii. 415. Palacio (D. Raim. Mig.) Discurso Economico Politico. 4to. ]Mad. 1778. 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Peru — Relatione d'un Capitano Spagnuolo del Descoprimento y Con- quista del Peru. Exst. Ramus, iii. 371. Relatione d'un Secretario do Franc. Pizarro della Conquista del Peru. Exst. Ramusio iii. 371. Relacion del Peru. MS. Pesquisa de los Oydores de Panama contra D. Jayme Mugnos, fcc. por ha- verlos Commerciado illicitamente en tiempo de Guerra. fol. 1755. Philipinas — Carta que escribe un Rcligioso antiguo de Philipinas, a un Amigo suyo en Espagna, que le pre- gunta cl Naturel y Gcnio de los Indios Naturales de estas Islas. MS. 4to. Piedrahita (Luc. Fern.) Historia general de las Conquistas del Nuevo Reyno do Granada, fol. Ambres. Pinelo (Ant. de Leon) Epitome de la Bibliotheca Oriental y Occidental en que so continen los Escritores de las Indias Orientales y Occidentales. fol. 2 vols. JNlad. 1737. Pinzoniussocius AdmirantisColumbi — Navigatio et Res per eum repertOB. Exst. Nov. Orb. Grynaei, p. 119. Pizarro }• Orellana (D.Fern.) Varones aiustres del N. Mundo. fol. Mad. 1639. Planctus Judorum Christianorum in America Peruntina. 12mo. Puente (D. Jos. Martinez de la) Compcndio de las Historias de los Des- cubrimientos de la India Oriental y sua Islas. 4to. Mad. 1681. Quir (Ford de) Terra Australis in- cognita ; or a new Southern Discovery, containing a fifth part of the World, lately found out. 4to. Lond. 1617. j Ramusio (Giov. Battista) Racolto I delle Navigationi e Viaggi. fol. 3 vols. Venet. 1588. Real Compagnia Guipuzcoana de Caracas, Noticias historiales Practicas, de los Sucesos y Adelantamientos de esta Compagnia desde su Fundacion en 1728 hasta 1764. 4to. 1765. Recopilacion de Leyes de los Reynos de las Indias. fol. 4 vols. Mad. 1756. SPANISH BOOKS AND MANUSCRIPTS. IS Reglamento y Aranceles Reales para el Commercio de Espajna a Indias. Relatione d'un Gentiibuomo del Sig. Fern. Cortese della gran Citta Temis- tatan, Mexico, et della altre cose delle Nova Spagna. Exst. Ramus, iii. 304. 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El Maragnon y Amozonas Historia de los Descubrimi- entos,Entradas y Redacion deXaciones. Roman (Hieron.) Republicas del Mundo. fol. 3 vols. 'Mad. 15y5. Roma y Rosell (De Franc.) Las scg- nales de la felicidad de Espagna y me- dios de hacerlas efncaces. JIad. 1768. Rosende (P. Ant. Gonz. de) Vida del Juan de Palafox Arzobispo de Mexico. Ptubaclava (Don Jos. Gutierrez de) Tratado Histonco-Politico y Legal de el Commercio de las IndiasOccidentales. Ruiz (P. Ant.) Conquista Espiritual hecha por los Religiosos de la Com- pagnia de Jesus, en las Provincias de la Paraguay, Uraguay, Parana y Tape. Salazar de Mendoza (D. Pedro) Mo- narquia de Espagna, torn. i. ii. iii. y Olarte (D. Ignacio) His- toria de la Conquista de Mexico — Segunda parte. Cordov. 1743. Salazar de Mendoza y Zevallos (D. Alonz. Ed. de) Constitucionos y Orde- nanzas antiguas Agnadidas y Modemas de la Real Universidad y estudio gene- ral sle San Marcos de la Ciudad dc los Reyes del Peru. fol. En la Ciudad de los Reyes, 1735. Sanchez (Ant. Ribero) Dissertation sur I'Origine de la ilaladie Venerienne, dans laquelle on prouve qu"elle n'a point 6t& port^e de TAmerique. 1765. Sarmisnto de Gamboa (Pedro de) Viage el Estrecho de Magellanes. 1768. Santa Cruz (El Marq.) Commercio Suelto y en Conipanias General. 1732. Sta. Domingo, Puerto Rico, y Marga- rita, Real Corcpagnia de Commercio. Scheraidel (Hulderico) Historia y Discubrimiento del Rio de la Plata y Paraguay. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim, torn. iii. Scbara da Sylva (Jos. de) Recueil Chronologique et Analytique de tout ce qu'a fait en Portugal la Soci6te dite de Jesus, depuis son Entree dans ce Royaume en 1540 jusqu'^ son Expul- sion 1759. 12mo. 3 vols. Lisb. 1769. Segni (D. Diego Raymundo) Anti- quario Noticiosa General de Espagna y BUS Indios. 12mo. 1769. Sepulveda (Genesius) Dialogus de justis Belli Causis, praesertim in Indos Novi Orbis. MS. (Jo. Genesius) Epist. Lib.VIL Sepulveda de Regno. Libri III. 1570, Seyxas y Lovero, (D. Fr.) Theatro Naval Hydrographico. 4to. 1648. Descripcion Gcographica y Derrotera de la Religion Austral Ma- gellanica. 4to. Mad. 1690. Simon (Pedro) Noticias Historiales de las Conquistas de Tierra Firmc en las Indias Occidentales. Cuenca, 1627. Solis (D. Ant. de) Historias de las Conquistas de Mexico. Mad. 1684. History Df the Conquest of ilex ico. — Translated by Townshend. 1724 Solarzono y Pereyrra (Joan) Politica Indiana, fol. 2 vols. Mad. 1776. De Indianun Jure, sive dc justa IndiarumOccidentaliumGubematione. Obras Varias posthumas. 1776. Soto y Marne (P. Franc, de) Copia de la Relacion de Viage qui desde la Ciudad de Cadiz a la Cartagena de Indias hizo. Spilbergenet Le Maire SpeculumOri- entalis Occidentalisque Navigationuni, Suarez de Figueroa (Chris.) Hechos de D. Garcia Hurtado de Mendoza. Tanco (Luis Bezerra) Felicidad de ilexico en la admirable Aparicion deN. Signora di Guadalupe. Mad. 1745. Tarra£rones (Hieron. Gir.) DosLibros de Cosmographia. 4to. Milan, 1556. Techo (F. Nichol. de). The History of the Provinces Paraguay, Tucuman, I Rio de la Plata, ice. Exst. Cburchiira I CoU. vi. 3. 16 A CATALOGUE OF SPANISH BOOKS, &c. Torquemada (Juan de) Monarquia Indiana, fol. 3 vols. Mad. 1723. Torres (Sim. Per. de) Viago del Mundo. Exst. Barcia Hist. Prim. iii. (Franc. Caro de) Historia de las Ordenes Militares do Santiago, Ca- latrava y Alcantara, desde su Funda- cion hasta el Key D. Felipe II. Ad- ministrador perpetuo dcilas. 1629. Torribio (P. F. Jos.) Aparato para la Historia Natural Espagnala, fol. Mad. 1754. Dissertacion Historico-Politica y en mucha parte Geographica de las Islas Philipinas. 12mo. Mad. 1753. Totanes (F. Sebastian de) Manual Tagalog para auxilio de Provincia de las Philipinas. 4to. Samplai en las Philipinas. 1745. Ulloa (D. Ant. de) Voyage Historique de I'Amerique Meridionale. 4to. 2 tom. Paris, 1752. (D. Ant. do) Noticiae Ameri- canas, Entretenimientos Physicos-His- toricos, sobre la America Meridional y la Septentrional Oriental. 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Veitia Linage (Jos.) The Spanish Rule of Trade to the West Indies. Declamacion Oratoria en Defensa de D. Jos. Fern. Veitia Linage. Veitia Linage Norte de la Contra- tacion de las Indias Occidentales. fol. Sevill. 1672. Venegas (Miguel), a Natural and Civil History of California. 8vo. 2 vole. Lond. 1759. Verazzano (Giov.) Relatione delle Terra per lui scoperta nel 1524. Exst. Ramusio iii. p. 420. Vesputius (Americus) Duaj Naviga- tiones sub Auspiciis Ferdiiiandi, st to the tropic of Cancer, and planted several colonies, in order to civilize the natives and accustom them to commerce. They discovered the Fortunate Islands, now known by the name of the Canaries, the utmost boundary of ancient navigation in the western ocean.f Nor Avas the progress of the Phenicians and Carthaginians in their knowledge of the globe, owing entirely to the desire of extending their trade from one country to another. Commerce was followed by its usual effects among both these people. It awakened curiosit)', enlarged the ideas and desires of men, and incited them to bold enterprises. Voyages were undertaken, the sole object of which Avas to discover new countries, and to explore unknown seas. Such, during the prosperous age of the Cartha- ginian republic, were the famous navigations of Hanno and Himlico. Both their fleets were equipped by authority of the senate, and at public ex- pense, flanno Avas directed to steer tOAvards the south, along the coast of Africa, and he seems to haA-e advanced much nearer the equinoctial line than any former navigator.j Himlico had it in charge to proceed toAvards the north, and to exaniine the Avestern coasts of the European continent.§ Of the same nature Avas the extraordinary navigation of th'T Phenicians * Mimoirr sur le Pavs d'Opliir, par M. d'Anville, Mem. de I'.Acadi^m. dog TnR'ript. &c. 1cm. XXX. 83. t I'liiiii Nat. Mist. lib. vi. c. 37. edit, in usum Delpli. 4:o. "08.). i Plinii Iwil. Hi.n. lib.v. c. 1. Har.uonis Pe.iplus np. r;pn?raph. minores, edit. Hudsoiii, vol. i. p. 1. ^ Pliiri \at. Hist. lib. I' c. 67. Festus Avienus apud Bochart. Geogr. Sacer. lib. i. c. CO. p. 6r>2. Oper.'vol. iii. L. Cat. 1707. AMERICA. 21 round Africa. A Phemcian fleet, we are told, fitted out by Necho king of Egypt) took its departure about six hundred and four years before the Christian era, from a port in the Red Sea, doubled the southern promontory of Africa, and after a voyage of three years returned bj^ the Straits of Gades to the mouth of the Nile.* Eudoxus of Cyzicus is said to have heli the same course, and to have accomplished the same arduous undertaking.! Tiiese voyages, if performed in the manner which I have related, may justly be reckoned the greatest effort of navigation in the ancient world ; and if we attend to the imperfect state of the art at that time, it is ditTicult to determine whether we should most admire the courage and sagacity with which the design was formed, or the conduct and good fortune with which it was executed. But unfortunately all the original and authentic accounts of the Phenician and Carthaginian voyages, whether undertaken by public authority or m prosecution of their private trade, have perished. The information which we receive concerning them from the Greek and Roman authors is not only obscure and inaccurate, but if we except a short narrative of Haiino's expedition, is of suspicious authority. [2] Whatever acquaintance with the remote regions of the earth tlie Fheniciansor Cartha- ginians may have acquired, was concealed from the rest of mankind with a mercantile jealousy. Eveiy thing relative to the course of their navigation was not only a mystery of trade, but a secret of state. Extraordinary facts are related concerning their solicitude to prevent other nations from pene- trating into what they wished should remain undivulged.J Many of their discoveries seem, accordingly, to have been scarcely known beyond the precinctsof their own states. The navigation round Africa, in particular, is recorded by the Greek and Roman writers rather as a strange amusing tale, which they did not comprehend or did not believe, than as a real transac- tion which enlarged their knowledge and influenced their opinions. [3] As neither the progress of the Phenician or Carthaginian discoveries, nor the extent of their navigation, were communicated to the rest of mankind, all memorials of their extraordinary skill in naval affairs seem, in a great mea- sure, to have perished, when the maritime power of the former was anni- hilated by Alexander's conquest of Tyre, and the empire of the latter was overttirned by the Roman arms. Leaving, then, the obscure and pompous accounts of the Phenician and Carthaginian voyages to the curiosity and conjectures of antiquaries, history must rest satisfied with relating the progress of navigation and discovery among the Greeks and Romans, Avhich, though less splendid, is better as- certained. It is evident that the Phenicians, who instructed the Greeks in many other useful sciences and arts, did not communicate to them that ex- tensive knowledge of navigation which they themselves possessed ; nor did the Piomans imbibe that commercial spirit and ardour for discovery which distinguished their rivals die Carthaginians. Though Greece be almost encompassed by the sea, which formed many spacious bays and commo- dious harbours : though it be surrounded by a great number of fertile islands, yet, notwithstanding such a favourable situation, which seemed to invite that ingenious people to apply themselves to navigation, it was long before this art attained any degree of perfection among them. Their early voy- ages, the object of which was piracy rather than commerce, were so incon- siderable that the expedition of the Argonauts from the coast of I'hessaly to the Euxine Sea, appeared such an amazing effort of skill and courage, as entitled the conductors of it to be ranked among the demigods, and ex« alted the vessel in which they sailed to a place among the heavenly con- stellations. Even at a later period, when the Greeks engaged in the famous enterprise against Troy, their knowledtre in naval affairs seems not to have been much improved. According to the account of Homer, the only poet • Herodot. lib. iv. c. 43. t Plinii iVat. Hist. lib. ii c. 67. t Suab. Geogr. lib. iii. p. 365. lib.xviiJ. 1164. 22 HISTORY OF [Book I. to whom histoiy ventures to appeal, and who, by his scrupulous accuracy in describinc:^ the manners and arts of early ai^es, merits this distinction, the science of iiavioalion at that time had hardly advanced beyond its rudest state. Tlie Greeks in tlie heroic a^e seem to have been unacquainted vvitli the use of iron, the most serviceable of all the metals, witliout which no considerable prog;ress was ever made in the mechanical arts. Their ves- sels were of inconsiderable burden, and mostly without decks. They had only one mast, Avhich was erected or taken down at pleasure. They were strangers to the use of anchors. Ail their operations in sailing; were clumsy and unskilful. They turr)ed their observations towards stars, which were improper for regulating their course, and their mode of observing them was inaccurate and fallacious. When they had finished a voyage they drew their paltry barks ashore, as savages do their canoes, and these remained on dry land until the season of returning to sea approached. It is not then in the early heroic ages of Greece that we can expect to observe the science of navigation, and the spirit of discover}", making any considerable progress. During that period of disorder and ignorance, a thousand causes concurred in restraining curiosity and enterprise within veiy narrow bounds. But the Greeks advanced with rapidity to a state of greater civilization and refinement. Government, in its most liberal and perfect form, began to be established in their different communities ; equal laws and regular po- lice were gradually introduced ; the sciences and arts which are useful or ornamental in life were carried to a high pitch of improvement ; and seve- ral of the Grecian commonwealths applied to conunerce with such ardour and success, that they were considered, in the ancient world, as maritime powers of the first rank. Even then, however, the naval victories of the Greeks must be ascribed rather to the native spirit of the pt;op!e, and to that courage which the enjoyment of liberty inspires, than to any extraordi- nary progress in the science of navigation. In the Persian war, those ex- ploits, which the genius of the Greek historians has rendered so famous, were performed by fleets composed chiefly of small vessels without decks ;* the crews of which rushed forward with impetuous valour, but little art, to board those of the enemy. In the war of Peloponnesus, their ships seem still to have been of inconsiderable burden and force. The extent of their trade, how highlj' soever it may have been estimated in ancient times, "was in proportion to this low condition of their marine. The maritime states of Greece hardly carried on any commerce beyond the limits of the Medi- terranean sea. Their chief intercourse was with the colonies of their country- men planted in the Lesser Asia, in Italy, and Sicily. They sometimes vi- sited the ports of Egypt, of the southern provinces of Gaul, and of Thrace ; or, passing through the Hellespont, they traded with the countries situated around the Euxine sea. Amaziirr instances occur of their ignorance, even of those countries which lay within the narrow precincts to which their navigation was confined. When the Greeks had assembled their combined fleet against Xerxes at Egina, they thought it unadvisable to sail to Samos, because they believed the distance between that island and Egina to be as great as the distance between Egina and the Pillars of Hercules.j They were either utterly unacquainted with ail the parts of the globe beyond the Mediterranean sea, or what knowledge they had of them was founded on conjecture, or derived trom the information of a tew persons vviiom curiosity and the love of science had prompted to travel by land into the Upper Asia, or by sea into Egypt, the ancient seats of wisdom and arts. After all that the Oreeks learned from them, they appear to have been ignorant of the most important facts on which an accurate and scientific knowledge of Ithe slobe is Ibunded. The expedition of Alexander the Great into the East considerably en- • Tiucyd. lib. i, o. 14. t Herodofc lib viii. c 031 AKERICA. 23 larged the sphere of navi2:ation and of geoe;raphicaI knowledge among the Greeks. That extraordinary man, notwithstanding the violent passions •which incited him at some times to the wildest actions and the most extra- vagant enterprises, possessed talents which fitted him, not only to conquer, but to govern the world. He was capable of framing those bold and ori- ginal schemes of policy, which gave a new form to human affairs. The revolution in commerce, brought about by the force of his genius, is hardly inferior to that revolution in empire occasioned by the success of his arms. It is probable that the opposition and efforts of the republic of Tyre, which clificked him so long in the career of his victories, gave Alexander an op- portunity of observing the vast resources of a maritime power, and convey- ed to him some idea of the immense wealth which the Tyrians derived from their commerce, especially that with the East Indies. As soon as he had accomplished the destruction of Tyre, and reduced Egj'pt to subjection, he formed the plan of rendering the empire which he proposed to establish, the centre of commerce as well as the seat of dominion. With this view he founded a great cit}', which he honoured with his own name, near one of the mouths of the river Nile, that by the Mediterranean sea, and the neighbourhood of the Arabian Gulf, it might command the trade both of the East and West.* This situation was chosen with such discernment, that Alexandria soon became the chief commercial city in the world. Not only during the subsistence of the Grecian empire in Egypt and in the East, but amidst all the successive revolutions in those countries trom the time of the Ptolemies to the discovery of the navigation by the Cape of Good Hope, commerce, particulaiiy that of the East Indies, continued to flow in the channel which the sagacity and foresight of Alexander had marked out for it. His ambition was not satisfied with having opened to the Greeks a com- munication with India by sea ; he aspired to the sovereignty of those regions which furnished the rest of mankind with so many precious commodities, and conducted his army thither by land. Enterprising, however, as he was, he may be said rather to have viewed than to have conquered that country. He did not, in his progress towards the East, advance beyond the banks of the rivers that fall into the Indus, which is now the western boundary of the vast continent of India. Amidst the wild exploits which distinguish this part of his history, he pursued measures that mark the superioiity of his ge- nius as well as the extent of his views. He had penetrated as far into India as to confirm his opinion of its commercial importance, and to perceive that immense wealth might be derived from intercourse with a country where the arts ol elegance, having been more early cultivated, were arrived at gr'^ater perfection than in any other part of the earth. t Full of this idea, he resolved to examine the course of navigation from the mouth of the Indus to the bottom of the Persian Gulf; and, if it should be found practicable, to establish a regular communication between them. In order to effect this, he proposed to remove the cataracts, with which the jealousy of the Per- sians, and their aversion to correspondence with foreigners, had obstructed the entrance into the Euphrates :J. to carry the commodities of the East up that river, and the Tiaris, which unites with it, into the interior parts of liis Asiatic dominions ; while, by the way of the Arabian Gulf and the river Nile, they might be conveyed to Alexandria, and distributed to the rest of the world. Nearchus, an officer of eminent abilities, was intrusted with the command of the tleet fitted out for this expedition. He performed this voyage, which was deemed an enterprise so arduous and important, that Alexander reckoned it one of the most extraordinary events which distin- guished his reign. Inconsiderable as it may now appear, it was at that • Strab. Geoer. lib. xvii. p 1143. 1140. t Strab. Gecgr. lib. xv. p. 1030. O. Curtius, lib. xvUJ. Ck 9. } Strab. G«ogr> lib. xvk p. 1073. 24 HISTORYOF [Book 1. time an iimlertaking; of no little merit and difliciilty. In the prosecution of it, strikiiis; instances occur of the small progi-css which the Greeks had made in naval Kiiowlcdsze-t'O Having never sailed beyond the bounds of the Mediterranean, wliere the ebb and tlow of the sea are hardly perceptible, Avhen they i'nyl observed this phenomenon at the mouth of the Indus, it ap- peared to them a prodigy, by which the gods Icstilied the displeasure of heaven ag^aiiist their enterprise. [5] During their whole course, they seem never to have lost sight ol land, but followed the bearings of the coast so perviloiy, that they could not avail themselves of those periodical winds which facilitate navigation In the Indian ocean. Accordingly they spent no less than ten months in performing this voyage,* which, from the mouth of thfi Indus to that of the Persian Gulf, does not exceed twenty degrees. It is probable, that amidst the convulsions and frequent revolutions in the East, occasioned by the contests among the successors of Alexander, the navigation to Imlia by the coui-se which Ncarchus had opened was discon- tinued. The Indian trade carried on at Alexandria, not only subsisted, but was so much extended, under the Grecian monarchs of Egypt, that it proved a great source of the wealth -which distinguished their kingdom. The progress whrch the Romans made in navigation and discovery, Avas still more inconsiderable than that of the Greeks. The genius of the Ro- man people, their militaiy education, and the spirit of their laws, concurred in estranging them from commerce and naval affairs. It was the necessity of opposing a formidable rival, not the desire of extending trade, which first prompted them to aim at maritime power. Though they soon per- ceived, that in order to acquire the univei-sal dominion alter which they as- pired, it was necessary to render themselves masters of the sea, they still considered the naval service as a subordinate station, and reserved for it such citizens as were not of a rank to be admitted into the legions.f In the liistoiy of the Roman republic, hardly one event occurs, that marks attention to navigation any further than it was instrumental towards conquest. When the Roman valour and discipline had subdued all the maritime states known in the ancient A\orld ; when Carthage, Greece, and Egypt had sub- mitted to their power, the Romans did not imbibe the commercial spirit of the conquered nations. Among that people of soldiers, to have applied to trade would have been deemed a degradation to a Roman citizen. They abandoned the mechanical arts, commerce, and navigation, to slaves, to freednien, to provincials, and to citizens of the lowest cfnss. Even alter the subversion of liberty, when the severity and haughtiness of ancient manners began to abate, commerce did not rise into high estimation among the Romans. The trade of Greece, Egypt, and the other conquered countries, continued to be carried on in its usual channels, alter they were reduced into the form of Roman pro\ inces. As Rome w.-^s the capital of the world, and the seat of government, all the wealth and valuable productions of the provinces flo^ved naturally thither. The Romans, satisfied with this, seem to have sutTered commerce to remain almost entirely in the hands of the natives of the respective countries. The extent, hoAvevcr, of the Roman f)Ower, v\ hith reached over the greatest part of the known world, the vigi- ant inspection of the Roman magistrates, and die spirit of the Roman government, no less intelligent than active, gave such additional security to commerce as animated it with vew vigour. The union among nations was never so entire, nor the intercoui-se so perfect, as Avithin the bounds of this vast empire. Commerce, under the Roman dominion, was not obstructed by the jealousy of rival states, interrupted by tVequent hostilities, or limited by partial restrictions. One superintending power moved and regulated the industry of mankind, and enjoyed the fruits of their joint eflorts. Navigation felt its iniduence, and improved under it. As soon as the • Plhi. Hist K&U lib. vi. c. 2a t Polyb. Ub. v. AJW E R I C A. 2d Romans acquired a taste for the luxuries of the East, the trade with India through Egypt was pushed with new vigour, and carried on to greater extent. I^y trcquenting llie Indian continent, navigalor-s became acquainted with the periodical cour.'^e of the wind.<, whicli, in the ocean that separate?. Africa from India, blow with little variation during one half of the year from the east, and,during the other half blow with equal steadiness from the west. Encouraged by observing this, the pilots who sailed tiom Egypt to India abandoned their ancient slow and dangerous course along the coast, and, as soon as the Avestern monsoon set in, took their departure from Ocelis, at the mouth of the Arabian Gulf, and stretched boldly across the ocean.* The uni- form direction of the wind, supplying the place of the compass, and rendering the guidance of the stars less necessary, conducted them to the port of Musi- ris, on the western shore of the Indian continent. There they took on hoard their cargo, and, returning with the eastern monsoon, finished their voyage to the Arabian Gulf within the year. This part of India, now known by the name of the Malabar coast, seems to have been the utmost limit of ancient navigation in tiiat quarter of the globe. What imperfect knowledge the ancients had of the immense countries which stretch beyond this towards the East, they received from a few adventurers who had visited them by land. tSuch excursions were neither frequent nor extensive, and it is proba- ble that, while the Roman intercourse with India subsisted, no traveller ever penetrated further than to the banks of the Ganges.t[6j The fleets from Egypt which traded at Musiris were loaded it is true, with the spices and other rich commodities of the continent and islands of the further India ; but these were brought to that port, which became the staple of the commerce between the east and west, by the Indians Uiemselves in canoes hollowed out of one tree. J The Egyptian and Roman merchants, satis.*ied with acquiring those commodities in this manner, did not think it necessaiy to explore unknown seas, and venture upon a dangerous navigation, in quest ot the counliies which produced them. But though the discoveries of the Romans in India were so limited, their commerce there was such as will appear considerable, even to the present age, in which the Indian trade has been extended far beyond the practice or conception of any preceding period. We are informed by one author of credit,§ that the commerce with India drained the Roman empire every year of more than four hundred thousand pounds ; and by another, that one hundred and twenty ships sailed annually from the Arabian Gulf to that country. || The discovery of this new method of sailing to India, is the most con- siderable improvement in navigation made during the continuance of the Roman power. But in ancient times, the knowledg:e of remote countries was acquired more frequently by land than by sea ;[?] and the Romaas, from their peculiar disinclination to naval aflaii-s, may be said to have neglected totally the latter, though a more easy and expeditious method of discovery. The progress, however, of their victorious armies through a considerable portion of Europe, Asia, and Africa, contributed greatly to extend discovery by land, and gradually opened the navigation of new and unknown seas. Previous to the Roman conquests, the civilized nations of antiquity had little communication with those countries in Europe which now form its most opulent and powerful kingdoms. The interior parts of Spain and Gaul were imperfectly known. Britain, separated from the reit of the world, had never been visited, except by its neighbours the Gauls, and by a iew Carthaginian merchants. The name of Germany had scarcely been board of. Into all these countries the artns of the Romans penetrated. They entirely subdued Spain and Gaul ; they conquered the greatest and most fertile part of Britain ; they advanced into Germany, as far as the * riiii.Nat. Hist. rO). vi. c. 23. t Strab.Geosr. Mb. \v. p. lOOG—lOlO. J Plln. Nat. Hint lib. VI. c. 2(i. V Ibid. II Strab. Geogr. lib. ii. p. 179. Vol. I.— 4 «6 HISTORY OF [Book 1. banks of the river Elbe. In Afiica, they acquired a considerable know- ledge of the provinces, which stretclied along the Mediterranean Sea, from Egypt westward to the Straits of Gades. Jn Asia, they not only subjected to their power most of the provinces which composed the Peisian and the Macedonian empires, but after their victories over Mithridates and Tigranes, they seem to have made a more accurate survey of the countries contiguous to the Euxine and Caspian seas, and to have carried on a more extensive trade than that of the Greeks with the opulent and commercial nations then seated round the Euxine sea. Fiom this succinct survey of discovery and navigation, which I have traced from the earliest dawn of historical knowledge, to the full esta- blishment of the Roman dominion, the progress of both appears to have been wonderfully slow. It seems neither adequate to what we might have expected tVom the activity and enterprise ot the human mind, nor to what might have been performed by the power of the great empires which successively governed the world. If we reject accounts that are fabulous and obscure ; if we adhere steadily to the light and information of authentic history, without substituting in its place the conjectures of fancy or the dreams of etymologists, we must conclude, that the knowledge which the ancients had acquired of the habitable globe was extremely confined. In Europe, the extensive provinces in the eastern part of Ger- many were little known to them. They were almost totally unacquainted with the vast countries which are now subject to the kings of Denmark, Sweden, Prussia, Poland, and the Russian empire. The mere barren regions that stretch within the arctic circle, were quite unexplored. In Afiica, their researches did not extend far beyond the provinces which border on the Mediterranean, and those situated on the western shore of the Arabian Gulf. In Asia, they were unacquainted, as I formerly observed, with all the fertile and opulent countries beyond the Ganges, which furnish the most valuable commodities that in modern times have been the great object of the European commerce with India ; nor do tbey seem to have ever penetrated into those inmiense regions occupied by the wandering tribes, which they called by the general name of Sarmatians or Scythians, and which are now possessed by Tartars of various denominations, and by .the Asiatic subjects of Russia. But there is one opinion, that universally prevailed among the ancients, which conveys a more striking idea of the small progress they had made in the knowledg-e of the habitable globe th?n can be derived from any detail of their discoveries. They supposed the earth to be divided into five regions, which they distinguished by the name of Zones. Two of these, which were nearest the poles, they termed Frigid zones, and believed that the extreme cold which reigned perpetually there rendered them unin- habitable. Another, seated under the line, and extending on either side towards the tropics, they called the Torrid zone, and imagined it to be so burned up with unremitting heat, as to be equally destitute of inhabitants. On the two other zones, which occupied the remainder of the earth, they bestowed the appellation of Temperate, and taught that these, being the only regions in which life could subsist, were allotted to man for his habita- tion. This wild opinion was not a conceit of the uninformed vulgar, or a fanciful fiction of the poet?, but a system adopted by the most enlightened philosophers, the most accurate historians and geographers in Greece and Rome. According to this theory, a vast portion of the habitable earth was pronounced to be unfit for sustaining the human species. Those fertile and populous regions within the torrid zone, which are now known not only to yield their own inhabitants the necessaries and comforts of life with most luxuriant profusion, but to communicate their superfluous stores to the rest of the world, were supposed to be the mansion of perpetual sterility and desolation. As all tne parts of the gldbe with which the ancients wtre AMERICA. 2 acquainted lay within the nortliern temperate zone, their opinion that the other temperate zone was filled with inhabitants, was founded on reasoning^ and conjecture, not on discover} , They even believed that, by the intole- rable heat of the torrid zone such an insuperable barrier was placed between the two temperate regions of the earth as would prevent for ever any intercourse between their respective inhabitants. Thus, this extrava- gant theory not only proves that the ancients were unacquainted with the true state of the globe, but it tended to render their ignorance perpetual, by representing all attempts towards opening a communication with the remote regions of the earth, as utterly impracticable. [8] But, however imperfect or inaccurate the geographical knowledge which he Greeks and Romans had acquired may appear, in respect of the present improved state of that science, their progress in discovery will seem considerable, and the extent to which they carried navigation and commerce must be reckoned great, when compared with the ignorance of early times. As long as the Roman Empire retained such vigour as to preserve its authority over the conquered nations, and to keep them united, it was an object oi public policy, as well as of private curiosity, to examine and describe the countries which composed this great body. Even when the other sciences began to decline, geography, enriched with new observations, and receiving some accession from the experience of every age, and the reports of every traveller, continued to improve. It attained to the highest point of perfec- tion and accuracy to which it ever arrived in the ancient world, by the industiy and genius of Ptolemy the philosopher. He flourished in the second century of the Christian a;ra, and published a description of the ter- restrial glebe, more ample and exact than that of any of his predecessors. But, soon after, violent convulsions began to shake the Roman state ; the fatal ambition or caprice of Constantino, by changing the seat of govern- ment, divided and weakened its force ; the barbarous nations, which Pro- vidence prepared as instruments to overturn the mighty fabric of the Roman power, began to assemble and to muster their armies on its frontier : the empire tottered to its fall. During this decline and old age of the Roman state, it was impossible that the sciences should go on improving. The efforts of genius were, at that period, as languid and feeble as those of fovernment. From the time of Ptolemy, no considerable addition seems to ave been made to geographical knowledge, nor did any important revo- lution happen in trade, excepting that Constantinople, by its advantageous situation, and the encourag;ement of the eastern emperors, became a com- mercial city of the first note. At length, the clouds Avhich had been so long gathering round llie Roman empire burst into a stomn. Barbarous nations rushed in from several quar- ters with irresistible impetuosity, and in the general wreck, occasioned by the inundation which overwhelmed Europe the arts, sciences, inventions, and discoveries of the Romans perished in a great measure, and disap- peared.* All the various tribes which settled in die different provinces of the Roman empire were uncivilized, strangers to letters, destitute of arts, unacquainted with regular government, subordination, or laws. The man- ners and institutions of some of them were so rude as to be hardly compati- ble with a state of social union. Europe, when occupied by such inhabit- ants, may be said to have returned to a second infancy, and had to begin anew its career in improvement, science, and civility. The first effect of the settlement of those barbarous invaders was to dissolve the union by which the Roman power had cemented mankind together. They parcelled out Europe into many small and independent states, differing from each othel in language and customs. No intercourse subsisted between the members of those divided and hostile communities. Accuslomerl to a simple mode • Hleli of ChorlPH V. voU I 28 H I S T O R Y F [Book 1. of life, and averee to industry, they had few wants to supply, and few super- fluities to dispose of. The names of stranger and enemy became once more words of the same import. Customs every where prevailed, and even laws were established, which rendered it disagreeable and dangerous to visit any foreign countiy.* Cities, in which alone an extensive commerce can be carried on, were few, inconsiderable, and destitute of those immuni- ties which produce security or excite enterprise. The sciences, on which geography and navigation are founded, were little cultivated. The accounts of ancient improvements and discoveries, contained in the Greek and Roman authors, were neglected or misunderstood. The knowledge of remote regions was lost, their situation, their commodities, and almost their names, were unknown. One circumstance prevented commercial intercourse with distant nations from ceasing altogether. Constantinople, though often threatened by the fierce invaders who spread desolation over the rest of Europe, was so tbr- tunate as to escape their destructive rage. In that city the knowledge of ancient arts and discoveries was presented ; a taste for splendour and ele- gance subsisted ; the productions and luxuries of foreign countries were in request ; and commerce continued to flourish there when it was almost extinct in every other part of Europe. The citizens of Constantinople did not confine their trade to the islands of the Archipelago, or to tlie adjacent coasts of Asia ; they took a wider range, and, ibllowing' the course which the ancients had marked out, imported the commodities of the East Indies from Alexandria. When Egypt was torn trom the Roman empire by the Arabians, the industry of the Greeks discovered a new channel by which the productions of India might be conveyed to Constantinople. They were carried up the Indus as far as that great river is navigable ; thence they were transported by land to the banks of the river Oxus, and proceeded down its stream to the Caspian sea. There they entered the Volga, and, sailing up it, were carried by land to the Tanais, which conducted them into the Euxine sea, where vessels from Constantinople waited their arrival. t This extraordinary and tedious mode of conveyance merits attention, not only as a proof of the violent passion which the inhabitants of Constantinople had conceived for the luxuries of the East, and as a specimen of the ardour and ingenuity with which they carried on commerce ; but because it demonstrates that, during the ignorance which reigned in the rest of Europe, an extensive knowledge of remote countries was still preserved in the capi- tal of the Greek empire. At the same time a gleam of light and knowled2;e broke in upon the East. The Arabians having contracted some relish for the sciences of the Eeople whose empire they had contributed to overturn, translated the ooks of" several of the Greek philosophers into their own language. One of the first was that valuable work of Ptolemy which I have already men- tioned. 'l"he study of geography became, oT consequence, an early object of attention to the Arabians. But that acute and ingenious people cultivated chiefly the speculative and scientific parts of geography. In order to ascer- tain the figure and dimensions of the terrestrial globe, they applied the principles of geometr}-, they had recourse to astronomical observations, they employed experiments and operations, which Europe in more enlightened times has been proud to adopt and to imitate. At that period, however, She fame of the im.provements made by the Arabians did not reach Europe. The knowledge of their discoveries was reserved for ages capable of com- prehending and of pertiscting them. _ By degrees the calamities and desolation brought upon the western pro- vinces of the Roman empire by its barbarous conquerors were forgotten, and in some measure repaired. The rude tribes which settled tliere • HisL of Charles V. f Ramusio, vol. i. p. 37S. F* AMERICA. 29 acquiring inseasibly some idea of reg;^ular government, and some relish for the functions and comforts of civil life, Europe began to awake from its (omid and inactive state. The first S}'mptoms of revival were discerned in Italy. The northern tribes which took possession of this country, made progress in improvement with greater rapidity than the people settled in other parts of Europe. Various causes, w^hich it is not tbe object of this work to enumerate or explain, concurred in restoring liberty and independ- ence to the cities of Italy.* The acquisition of these roused industry, and fave motion and vigour to all the active powers of the human mind, oreign commerce revived, navigation was attended to and improved. Constantinople became the chief tnart to which the Italians resorted. There they not only met with a favourable reception, but obtained such mercan- tile privileges as enabled them to carry on trade with great advantage. They were supplied both w ith the precious commodities of the East, and with many curious manufactures, the product of ancient arts and ingenuity which still subsisted among the Greeks. As the labour and expense of con- veying the productions of India to Constantinople by that long and indirect course w^hich I have described, rendered them extremely rare, and of an exortjitant price, tbe industrj' of the Italians discovered other methods of procuring them in greater abundance and at an easier rate. They some- times purchased them in Aleppo, Tripoli, and other ports on the coast of Syria, to which they were brought by a route not unknown to the ancients. Thev were conveyed from India by sea up the Persian Gulf, and, ascending the Euphrates and Tigris as far as Bagdat, were carried by land across the desert of Palmyra, and from thence to the towns on the Mediterranean. But, from the length of the journey, and the dangers to which the caravans weie exposed, this proved alwaj-s a tedious and often a precarious mode of conveyance. At length the Soldans of Eprypt, having revived the commerce with India in its ancientchannel, by the Arabian Guff, the Italian merchants, notwithstanding the violent antipathy to each other with which Christians and the foUowersofMahomet were then possessed, repaired to Alexandria, and enduring, from the love of gain, the insolence and exactions ol' the Mahometans, established a lucrative trade in that port. From that period the commer- cial spirit of Italy became active and enterjwsing. \enice, Genoa, Pisa, rose from inconsiderable towns to be populous and wealthy cities. Their naval power increased ; their vessels frequented not only all the ports tn the Mediterranean, but venturing sometimes beyond the Straits, visited the maritime towns of Spain, France, the Low Countries, and England ; and, by distributing tlieir commodities over Europe, began to communicate to its various nations some taste for the valuable productions of the East, as well as some ideas of manufactures and arts, which were then unknown beyond, the precincts of Ital}'. While the cities of Italy were thus advancing in their career of improve- ment, an event happened, the most extraordinary, perhaps, in the history of mankind, which, instead of retarding the commeicial progress of the Italians, rendered it more rapid. The martial spirit of the Europeans, heightened and inflamed by religious zeal, prompted them to attempt the deliverance of the Holy Land from the dominion of Infidels. Vast armies, composed of all the nations in Europe, marched towards Asia upon this wild enterprise. Tbe Genoese, the Fisans, and Venetians, furnished the transports which carried them thither. They supplied them with provisions and military stores. Besides the immense sums which they received on this account, they obtained commercial privileges and establishments of great conse- quence in the settlements which tbe Crusaders made h) Palestine, and in other provinces of Asia. From those sources prodigious v/ealth flowed into the cities which I have mentioned. This was accompanied with a propor* • Hist, of Charles V. 30 H I S T O R Y OF [Book I. tional increxse of power ; and, by the end of the Holy War, Venice in particular became a great maritime state, possessing an extensive commerce and ample territories.* Italy was not the only country in which the Cru- sades contributed to revive and diffuse such a spirit as prepared Europe for future discoveries. By their expeditions into Asia, the other European nations became well acquainted with remote regions, which formerly they knew only by name, or by the reports of ignorant and credulous pilgrims. They had an opportunity of observing the manners, the arts, and the accommo- dations of people more polished than themselves. This intercourse between the East and West subsisted almost two centuries. The adventurers who returned from Asia communicated to their countr)'men the ideas which they had acquired, and the habits of life they had contracted by visiting more refined nations. The Europeans began to be sensible of wants with which they were formerly unacquainted : new desires were excited ; and such a taste for the commodities and arts of other countries gradually spread among them, that they not only encouraged the resort of foreigners to their harbours, but began to perceive the advantage and necessity of applying to commerce themselves. t This communication, which was opened between Europe and 'the western provinces of Asia, encouraged several persons to advance far beyond the countries in which the Crusaders carried on their operations, and to travel by land into the more remote and opulent regions of the East. The wild fanati- cism, which seems at that period to have mingled in all the schemes of individuals, no less than in all the counsels of nations, first incited men to enter upon those long and dangerous peregrinations. They were aftenvards undertaken from prospects of commercial advantage, or from motives of mere curiosity. Benjamin, a Jew of Tudela, in the kingdom of Navarre, possessed with a superstitious veneration for the law of Moses, and solicitous to visit his countrymen in the East, whom he hoped to find in such a state of power and opulence as might redound to the honour of his sect, set out from Spain, in the year 1160, and, travelling by land to Constantinople, pro- ceeded through the countries to the north of the Euxine and Caspian seas, as far as Chinese Tartary. From thence he took his route towards the south, and after traversing various provinces of the further India, he em- barked on the Indian Ocean, visited several of its islands, and returned at the end of thirteen years, by the way of Egypt, to Europe, with much information concerning a lai^e district of the globe altogether unknown at that time to the western world.;}; The zeal of the head of the Christian church co-operated with the superstition of Benjamin the Jew in discovering the interior and remote provinces of Asia. All Christendom having been alarmed with the accounts of the rapid progress of the Tartar arms under Zengis Khan [1246], Innocent IV., who entertained most exalted ideas concerning the plenitude of his own power, and the submission due to his injunctions, sent Father John de Piano Carpini, at the head of a mission of Franciscan monks, and Father Ascolino, at the head of another of Domini- cans, to enjoin Kayuk Khan, the grandson of Zengis, who was then at the head of the Tartar empire, to embrace the Christian faith, and to desist from desolating the eartn by his arms. The haughty descendant of the ?:reatest conqueror Asia had ever beheld, astonished at this strange mandate irom an Italian priest, whose name and jurisdiction were alike unknown to him, received it with the contempt which it merited, though he dismissed the mendicants who dehvered it with impunity. But, as they had pene- trated into the country by different routes, and followed for some time the Tartar camps, which were always in motion, they had opportunity of visit- ing a great part of Asia. Carpini, who proceeded by the way of Poland • Essai de I'Histoire du Commerce de Venise, p. 52, &.O. t Hist of Charles V. } B^Ofcron, Recucil dee Voyages, &o. totn i. p 1. AMERICA. 31 and Russia, travelled throug:h its northern provinces as far as the extremities of Thibet. Ascolino, who seoms to have landed somewhere in Syria, advanced through its southern provinces Into the interior parts of Persia.* Not long after [l25J], St. Louis of France contributed further towards extending tlie knowledge which the Europeans had begun to acquire of those distant regions. Some designing impostor, who took advantage of _ the slenderacquaintance of Christendom with the state and character of the Asiatic nations, having informed him tliat a powerful Khan of the Tartars had embraced the^Christian faith, the monarch listened to the tale with pious credulity, and instantly resolved to send ambassadors to this illustrious convert, with a view of enticing him to attack their common enemy the Saracens in one quarter, while he fell upon them in another. As monks were the only peisons in that age who possessed such a degree of know- ledge as qualitied them for a service of this kind, he employed in it Father Andrew, a Jacobine, who was followed by Father William de Rubruquis, a Franciscan. With respect to the progress of the former, there is no memorial extant. The journal of the latter has been published He was admitted into the presence of Mangu, the tliird Khan in succession from Zengis, and made a circuit through the interior parts of Asia, more extensive than that of any European who had hitherto explored them.f To those travellers whom religious zeal sent forth to visit Asia, succeeded others who ventured into remote countries from the prospect of commercial advantage, or from motives of mere curiosity. The first and most eminent of these Was Marco Polo, a Venetian of a noble funily. Having engaged early in trade [1265], according to the custom of his country, his aspiring mind wished for a sphere of activity more extensive than was afforded to it by the established traffic carried on in those ports of Europe and Asia which the Venetians frequented. This prompted him to travel into unknown countries, in expectation of opening a commercial intercourse with them more suited to the sanguine ideas and hopes of a young adventurer. As his father had already carried some European commodities to the court of the great Khan of the Tartars, and had disposed of them to advantage, he resorted thither. Under the protection of Kuhlay Khan, the most powerful of all the successors of Zengis, he continued his mercantile pere- grinations in Asia upwards of twenty-six years : and during that time ad- vanced towards the east, far beyond the utmost boundaries to which any European traveller had ever proceeded. Instead of following the course of Carpini and Rubruquis, along the vast unpeopled plains of Tartary, he passed through the chief trading cities in the more cultivated parts of Asia, and penetrated to Cambalu, or Peking, the capital of the great kingdom of Cathay, or Chjna, subject at that time to the successois of Zengis. He made more than one voyage on the Indian ocean ; he traded in many of the islands from which Europe had long received spiceries and other com- modities which it held in high estimation, though unacquainted with the particular countries to which it was indebted for those precious productions : and he obtained information concerning several countries v.'hich he did not visit in person, particularly the island Zipangri, probably the same now known by the name of Japan.| On his return, he astonished his contempo- raries with his descriptions of vast regions whose names had never been heard of in Europe, and with such pompous accounts of their fertilit}-, their populousness, their opulence, the variety of their manufactures, and the t-.xtent of their trade, as rose far above the conception of an uninformed age ^ About half a century after Marco Polo [1322], Sir John Mandeville, an iMiglishman, encouraged by his example, visited most of the countries in U'C East which he had described, and, like him, published an account of * llakluyt, i. 21. Bergeron, torn. 1. tHakl. i. 71. Recueil des Voyagea par Bergeron, torn. 1. I Vlaggi di -Marco Polo. Ramus, ii. 2. Bergeron, torn. ii. 32 HISTORY OF [Book I. them.* The narrations of those early travellers abound -with many wild incoherent tales, concerning giants, enchanters, and monsters. But they were not from that circumstance less acceptable to an ignorant age, which delighted in what was marvellous. The wonders which they told, mostly on hearsay, filled the multitude with admiration. The facts which they related from their own observation attracted the attention of the more dis- cerning. The former, which may be considered as the popular traditions and fables of the countries through which they had passed, Avere gradually disregarded as Europe advanced in knowledge. The latter, however incredible some of them may have appeared in their own time, have been confirmed by the observations of modern travellers. By means of both, however, the curiosity of mankind was excited with respect to the remote parts of the earth ; their ideas were enlarged ; and they were not only insensibly disposed to attempt new discoveries, but received such informa- tion as directed to that particular course in which these were afterwards carried on. While this spirit was gradually forming in Europe, a fortunate discovery was made, which contributed more than all the efforts and ingenuity ol preceding ages to improve and to extend navigation. That wonderful pro- perty of the magnet, by which it communicates such virtue to a needle or slender rod of iron as to point towards the poles of the earth, was observed. The use which might be made of this in directing navigation was immediately perceived. That valuable, but now familiar instrument, the monger's compass, was constructed. When by means of it navigators found that, at all seasons and in every place, they could discover the north and south with so much ease and accuracy, it became no longer necessary to depend merely on the light of the stars and the observation of the sea- coast. They gradually abandoned their ancient timid and lingering course along the shore, ventured boldly into the ocean, and, relying on this new guide, could steer in the darkest night, and under the most cloudy sky, with a security and precision hitherto unknown. The compass may be said to have opened to man the dominion of the sea, and to have put him in full possession of the earth by enabling him to visit eveiy part oi' it. Flavio Gioia,a citizen of Amalfi, a town of considerable trade in the king- dom of Naples, was the author of this great discovery, about the year one thousand three hundred and two. It hath been often the fate of those iilus- tiious benefactors of mankind who have enriched science and improved the arts by their inventions, to derive more reputation than benefit from the happy efforts of their genius. But the lot of Gioia has been still more cruel : through the inattention or ignorance of contemporary historians, he has been defrauded even of the fame to which he had such a just title. We receive from them no information with respect to his profession, his character, the precise time when he made this important discovery, or the accidents and inquiries which led to it. The knowledge of this event, tliough productive of greater effects than any recorded in the annals of the human race, is transmitt-ed to us without any of those circumstances which can gratify the curiosity that it naturally awakens.j But though the use of tlie compass might enable the Italians to perform the short voyages to which they were accustomed with greater security and expedition, its in- fluence was not so sudden or extensive as immediately to render navigation adventurous, and to excite a spirit of discovery. Many causes combined in preventing this beneficial invention from producing its full effect instanta- neously. Men relinquisli ancient habits slowly and with reluctance. They are averse to new experiments, and venture upon them with timidity. The commercial jealousy of the Italians, it is probable, laboured to conceal the * Voyages and Travels, by Sir John Mandeville. t Collhias et Trombellus de Acus Nautice Invcntorc, Insiit. Acad. Bonon. torn. ii. part iii. p. 372. AMERICA. 33 happy discovery of their countrymen from other nations. I'he art of steering !)y the'compass with such skill and accuracy as to inspire a full conii.lence in its direction, was acquired g-radually. Sailors unaccustomed to quit the si^ht of land, dui-sfnot laui,jh out at once and commit themselves t-o unknown seas. Accordingly, near half a century elapsed from the time of Gioia's discoveiy, before navi^^ators ventured into any seas which they had not been accustomed to frequent. The first appearance of a bolder spirit may be dated from the voyages of the Spaniards to the Canary or Fortunate Islands. By what accident they were led to the discovery of those small isles, which lie near five hun- dred miles from the Spanish coast, and above a hundred and fifty miles from the coast of Africa, contemporary writers have not explained. But, about the middle of the tburteenth century, the people of all the different kingdoms into which Spain was then divided, were accustomed to make piratical excursions thither, in order to plunder tlie inhabitants, or to carry them oli' as slaves. Clement VI. in virtue of the right claimed by the Holy- See to dispose of all countries possessed by infidels, erected those isles into a kingdom in the year one thousand three hundred and Ibrtj'-four, and conferred it on Lewis de la Cerda descended from the royal family ol Castile. But that unfortunate prince, destitute of power to assert his nominal title, having never visited the Canaries, John de Bethencourt, a Norman baron, obtained a grant of them from Henry III, of Castile.* Bethencourt, with the valour and good fortune which distinguished the adventurers of his countr}^ attempted and effected the conquest; and the possession of the Canaries remained for some time in his family, as a fief held of the crown of Castile. Previous to this expedition of Bethen court, his countrymen settled in Normandy are said to have visited the coast of Atrica. and to have proceeded far to the south of the Canary Islands [1:365]. But their voyages thither seem not to have been under- taken in consequence of any public or regular plan for extending navigation and attempting new discoveries. They were either excursions suggested by that roving piratical spirit which descended to the Normans from their ancestorsjor the commercid enterprises of private merchants, which attracted so little notice that hardly any memorial of them is to be found in contem- porary authors. In a general survey of the progress of discovery, it is suificient to have mentioned this event ; and leaving it among those of dubious existence, or of small importance, we may conclude, that though much additional information concerning the remote regions of the East had been received by travellers who visited them by land, navigation at the be- ginning of the fifteenth century had not advanced beyond the state to which it had attained before the downfal of the Roman empire. At length the period arrived, when Providence decreed that men were to pass the limits within which they had been so long confined, and open to themselves a more ample field wherein to display their talents, their enterprise, and courage. The first considerable efforts towards this were not made by any of the more powerful states of Europe, or by those who had applied to navigation 'with the greatest assiduity and success. The glory ot leading the way in this new career was reserved for PoitugaI,one of the stnallest and least powerful of the European kingdoms. As the attempts of the Portuguese to acquire the knowledge of those parts of the globe with which mankind were then unacquainted, not only improved and extended the art of navigation, but roused such a spirit of curiosity and enterprise as led to the discovery of the New World, of v-hich I propose to write the history, it is necessar}' to take a full view of the rise, the piogress, and success of their various naval operations. It was in this school that the discoverer of America was trained ; and unless we trace the steps by which '*' A'icra y Clavijo Notic. de la HLstor. de Canaria, i. 268, &c. Glas. Hut c. 1. Vol. 1.— 5 34 HISTORY or LliooK 1. his insti-uctois and guides advanced, it will be impossible to ccmprehend the ciicun;staiices wliicii suggested the idea, or I'adiitated the execution, of his groat design. Various ciicumstar.ces prompted the Portuguese to exert their activity in this new aiieclion, ana enablca them to accou.plisii undertakings apparently superior to tlie nalural lorce otilieir monarchy. '1 he Iviiigs oi .Portugal, having- driven tiie Moors out ot tlieir dominions, had acquired pov\er as well i-s glory, by the success of tijeir anns against the intideis. By their victories over tliem, they had extended the ro}al authority Leyond tlje nar row limits within which it was origmaily circuniscrihed in I'ojtugal, as well as in other ieudal kingdoms. '1 hey had the command ol the national force, could rouse it to aci with united vigour, and, after the expulsion ol the Moors, could employ it without dread of interruption Irom any don-.esiic enemy. By tlie perpetual hostiii lies carried on lorseveral centuries against the iViahoinetans, the martial and adventurous spirit which distinguished all the European nations duiing the middle ages, was improved and heightened among the Portuguese. A tierce civil war towards the close of the four- teenth century, occasioned by a disputed succession, augmented the militaiy ardour ot the nation, and tonned or called lorth men of such active and daring genius as are ht lor bold undertakings. 'I he situation of the kinguom, bounded on every side by the dominions of a n.ore powerlul neighbour, did not alford tree scope to the activity of the Portuguese by land, as the strength of their nionarchy was no match lor that ot Castile. But Portugal was a maritime state, in which there were n:any comm.odious harbours ; the people had begun to make some progress in the knowledge and practice ot navigation, and the sea was open to them, piesenting the only tield of enterprise in which tliey could distinguish then^.selses. buch was the state of Portugal, arid such the disposition of the people, when John 1. surnamed the iiastard, obtained secure possession of the crown by the peace concluded with Castile, in the year one thousand four hun- dred and eleven. He was a prince of great merit, who, by superior courage and abilities, had opened his way to a throne which of right did not belong to him. He instantly perceived that it would be impossible to preserve public order, or domestic tranquillity, without iinding some employment for the restless spirit of his subjects. \v ith this view he assembled a numerous fleet at Lisbon, composed ol all the ships which he could fit out in his own kingdom, and of many hired from loreigneis. I'his great armament ^vas destined to attack the Moors settled on the coast of Barbary [ t412.] While it waa equipping, a lew vessels were appointed to sail a;ong the western shore of Atrica bounded by Uie Atlantic ocean, and to discover the unknown countries situated there. From this inconsiderable attempt, we may date the commencement of that spirit of discovery which opened the barriers chat had so long shut out mankind from the knowledge of one half of the terrestrial globe. At the time when John sent forth these ships on this new voyage, the art of navigation was still very imperfect. Though Alrica lay so near to Por- tugal, and the fertility of the countries alreauy known on that continent invited men to exploie it more fully, the Portuguese had never ventured to sail beyond Cape jYon. That promontoiy, as its name imports, was hitherto consideied as a boundary which could not be passed. Put tlie nations ol Kurope had now acquired as much knowledge as emboldened them to disregard the prejudices and to correct the errors of their ancestors. 'I'lie long reign of ignorance, the constant enemy of every curious inquiry and of every new undertaking, was approaching to its period. The light ot science began to dawn. The worivs of the ancient Greeks and l.omans began to be read with admiration and profit. 'I he sciences cultivated by the Arabians were introduced into Europe by the Moors settled in Spain aiid Portugal, and by Uxe Jews, who were vejy numerous in both these AMERICA. 35 Kingdoms. Geometry, astronomy, and geography, the sciences on which the art of navig-alioii is Ibunded, becaire oljects of studious attention. The memory of the discovcrifs made by the nnci'Jtiis was icNivcd,and the pro-^icss of their t);ivia^a'ion and cu:niiit;ce began to be traced. Jioine of the cr:u>(;s which iiave obstructed tlu; cuitivr.lion of sciei.ce iij Poiii-ga!, during this century and the last, diJ not exist, or rii.l not operate in the .s;iine manner, in tlie tilteentii century ; [9] and t!ic Porlui^ueste at lliat yeucd seem to liave kept pace with other nations on this siJe of the Alps in lite- rajy pursuits. As die genius of the age favoured t)ie execution of Uiat new undertaking, to which the pecuhnr slate of the couiitry in\iled the fortuguese ; it proved «ucress;iih 'the vessels sent on the tiisco\eiy dcuLled ihat loriDidable Cape, wliich Iiad termin:tled the progress of tormer r.a\ iga'.ors, and pro- ceeded a hundred and sixty milts beyond i!, to Cape J.cjador. As 'is rocky cHffs, which sLretclied a considerable way into the Atlantic., apj:eared more dreadful than llie promontory winch tliey had passed, the PorUigutse commanders durst not attempt to sail round it, but returned to Lisbon, n.ore satisfied u iih having advanced so far, than ashamed of having ventured no further. Inconsiderable as this voyage was, it increased the passion for discover}' which began to arise in Fortiioal. The Ibitunate issue of the king's expe- dition against tiie Moors of Barbary added strength to that spiiit in the nnlion, and jmslied it on to now undertakings. In ordei to render Uiese suc- cesslii', it v.as necessary that they shonid be conducted by a person w!io possesseil aiiidties capa1)le of discerning what was attainable, who erjoyed leisure to tbrni a regular system lor prosecutiiig disco\ery, and who was animated witli ardour tiiat 'Aould persevere in spite of obstacles and re- pulses. Ilai'piiy l()r Portugal, she tiiund all those qualities i!i Henry Cuke ol' \'iseo, l!i(- !(>urth son ol' Kin'i; .lolin, by Phinppa of Lancaslei', sister of Henry IV. king ol' Kngland. That piitice, in his early yciith, Iiaviig ac- companied his father in his expculition to Barbary, flistin^uished hin.sclf hy many deeils of valour. To tlu; martial spiiit, which \vas the charac- teristic of f-\ciy man ol' noljle birth at that time, l:e added all the accoin plishments of a more enlightened arul polished age. He cultiva.ted the arts a.nd sciences, which were then unkr.own and despised by persons of liis rank. He applied with peculiar fondness to the study ot' g'jograj hy ; and by the instiuclion of able masters, as well as by *he accoimts of tra- vellers, he early acquiretl such knowledge of the habitable globe, as dis- covered the great probability of finding new and opulent countries, by sail- ing along the coast of Africa. Such an o!)ject was l(.)rmed to awakiMi the enthusiasm and ardour of a youtht'ul nund, antl he espoused with the utmost zeal the patronaa;e of a design which might prove as benetlcial as it ap- peared to he splendid and honourable. In onler that he might pursue this gieat scheme without interruption, he retired horn court immediately alter iiis return from Africa, and fixed his residence at Sagres, near Cape St. \"in- cent, where the prospect of tiie Atlantic ocean invited his thoughts con- tinually towards his lavourite pi()ject, and encouraged him to execute if. In this retreat he was attended by some of the most learned men in his country, who aided him in his researches. He api)iied for information to the jlfoors of Barbary', who were accustomed to travel by land into the interior provinces of Africa in quest of ivory, gold dust, and other rich commodities. He consulted the .lews settled in Portugal. By promises, rewards, and marks of r(;spect, he alluied into his stM-vice several pc.'isons, foreigners as well as Portuguese, ■who were eminent for their skill in navi- gation. In taking those preparatory steps, the great abilities of the prince were seconded by his private virtues. His integrity, his an'abiliiy, his respect for nligion, his zeal for the honour of iiis countiy, engaged persons of all ranks to applaud his design, and to favour the execution of it. His 36 HISTORY OF [Book I. schemes were allowed, by the greater part of his countrymen, to proceed neither from ambition nor the desire ot wealth, but to flow ironi the warm be- nevoiencfofa heart eager to pro;note tlie happiness of maniJiid, and wliich justly eiitiliod Jiim to assume a motto for his device, that described the quality by which be wished to be distinguisiied, the talent of doing good. His tirst eiibrt, as is usual at the commencement of any new undertaking, was extremely inconsiderable. He fitted out a singie ship [l418j, and giving the command of it to John Gonzales Zarco and Tristan Vaz, two geirtieaHMi of his household, who voluntarily offered to conduct the enter- prise, he instructed them to use their utmost efforts to double Cape Bojador, and thence to steer towards the south. They, according to tlie mode of navigation which still prevailed, held their course along tlie shore ; and by following that direction, they must have encountered almost insuperable dilljculties in atte;npting to pass Cape Bojador. But foitune came in aid to tlieir want of skill, and prevented the voyage from being altogether fruitless. A sudden squall of wind arose, drove them out to sea, and when they expected every moment to perish, landed them on an unknown island, which tro:n their happy escape they named FoTto Santo. In the infancy ot navigation, the discovery of this small island appeared a matter of 'uch moment, that they instantly returned to Portugal with die good tidings, and were received by Henry with the applause and honour due to lortunate adventurers. Tliis taint dawn of success tjllcd a mind ardent in the pursuit oi a favourite object, with such sanguine hopes as were sui'licient incite- ments to proceed. Next year [l4iyj Henry sent out three ships under the same commanders, to who;n he joined Bartliolomevv Perestrehow, in order to take possession of the island which they had discovered. When they began to settle in Porto Santo, they observed towards the south a fixed spot in the horizon lilve a small black cloud. By degrees, they were led to conjecture that it might be l;.nd ; and steering towards it, tiiey arrived at a considerable island, uninhabited and covered with wood, which on that account they called Madeira.'^ As it was Henry's chief object to render his discoveries useful to his country, he immediately equipped a tleet to carry a colony ol' Portuguese to these islands [1420], By his provident care, they were turiiished not only \vilh the seeds, plants, and domestic animals common in Europe ; but, as he foresaw that the warmth of the climate and fertility of the soil would prove favourable to the rearing of otlier productions, he procured slips of the vine Irom the island ol' Cyprus, the rich \?iiies of which \vere then in great request, and plants of the sugar- cane from Sicily, into which it had been lately intioduced. These throve so prosperously in this new country, that the benefit ol' cultivating them was immediately perceived, and the sugar and wine of Madeira quickly became articles of some consequence in the commerce of Portugal. t As soon as the advantages derived from this tirst settlement to the west of the European conlinent began to be felt, tlie spirit of discovery appeared less chimerical, and became more adventurous. By their voyages to Ma- deira, the Portuguese were gradually accustomed to a bolder navigation, and, instead of creeping servilely along the coast, ventured into the open sea. In consequence of taking this course, Gi:ianez, who commanded one of prince Henry's ships, doubled Cape Bojador [143'3], the boundary of the Portuguese navigation upwards of twenty years, and which had hitherto bean deemed unpassabie. This successful voyage, which the igno- rance of the age placed on a level with the most iamous exploits recorded in histoiy, op'jned a new sphere to navigation, as it discovered the vast continent of Africa, still washed by the Atlantic ocean, and stretching to- wards tlie south. Part of this was soon explored ; the Portuguese ad- * Historical Relation of the first Discovery of Madeira, translated from the Portuguese of Fran- Alcal'araao, p. 15, &c t Lud. Guicciardini Descritt. de Paesi Dassi, p. 180, lai. AMERICA. 37 vanced within the tropics, and in the space oi' a few years they discovered (he river Senegal, and all the coast extending ftom Cape Blanco to Cape de V'erd. Hitherto the Portuguese had been guided in their discoveries, or en couraged to attempt them, hy the light and ini'orniation which tliey received from the works of the ancient matheir.aliciar.s and eeographers. Eut when they began to enter the torrid zone, the notion which prevailed among the ancients, that the heat which reigned perpeUially there was so excessive as to render it uninhabitable, deterred them, (or some time, from proceeding. Their own observations, when they first ventured into this unknown and forniidable region, tended to confirm the opinion of antiquity concerning the violent operation of the direct rays of the sun. As far as the river Senegal, the Portuguese bad (bund the coast of Africa inhabited by people nearly resembling (he Moors of Barbar}'. When they advanced to the south of that river, the human (brm seemed to put on a new appearance. They beheld men with skins black as ebony, with short curled hair, flat r-.oses, thick lips, and all the peculiar features which are now knoAvn to dislinguish the race of negroes. This surprising alteration they naturally attributed to the influence of heat, and if they should advance nearer to the line, they began to dread that its effects would be still more violent. Those dangers were exaggerated; and many other oljections against attempting further disco; veries were proposed by some of the grandees, who, from ignorance, from envy, or from that cold timid prudence which rejects whatever has the air of novelty or enterprise, had hitherto condemned all prince Henry's schemes. They represented, that it was altogether chimerical to expect any advantage from countries situated in that region which the wisdom and experience of antiquity had pronounced to be unfit for the habitation of men ; that their foretathers, satisfied with cultivating the territoiy which Providence had allotted them, did not waste the strength of the kingdom by fruitless pro- jects in quest of new settlements ; that Portueal was already exhausted by the expense of attempts to discover lands which either did not exist, or which nature destined to remain unknown ; and was drained of men, who might have been employed in undertakings attended with more certain suc- cess, and productive of greater benefit. But neither their appeal to the authority of the ancients, nor their reasonings c(3ncerning the interests of Portugal, made any impression upon the determined philosophic mind of prince Henry. The discoveries which he had already made, convinced him that the ancients had little more than a conjectural knowledge of the tonid zone. He was no less satistied that the political arguments of his opponents, with respect to the interest of Portugal, were malevolent and ill (bunded. In those sentiments he was strenuously supported by his brother Pedro, who governed the kingdom as guardian of their nephew Alphonso V. who had succeeded to the throne during his minoiity [1-138] ; and, instearl of slackening his efforts, Henry continued to pursue his discoveries with fresh ardour. But in order to silence all the murmurs of opposition, he endeavoured to obtain the sanction of the highest authority in favour of his operations. With this view he applied to the Pope, and represented, in pompous terms, the pious and unwearied zeal with which he had exerted himself during twenty years, in discovering unknown countries, the wretched inhabitants of which were utter strangers to true religion, wandering in heathen dark- ness, or led astray by the delusions of Mahomet. He besought the holy father, to wdiom, as the vicar of Christ, all the kingdoms of the earth were subject, to confer on the crown of Portugal a right to all the countries pos- sessed by infidels, which should be discovered by the industiy of its sub- jects, and subdued by the force of its arms. He entreated him to enjoin all Christian powers, under the highest penalties, not to molest Portugal while engaged in this laudable enterprise, and to prohibit them from settling t58 HISTORY OF [Book [. in any of the countries which the Portuealth and power to every nation possessed of it. The comprehensive genius of prince Henry, as we may conjecture from the words of tlie l''ope's bull, had early formed some idea of this navigation. But though his countrymen, at that period, were incapable of conceiving the extent of his views and schemes, all the Portuguese mathematicians and pilots now concuned in representing them as well founded and practicable. The king entered with warmth into their sentiments, and began to concert measures for this arduous and important voyage. Before his preparations for this expedition were finished, accounts were transmitted from Africa, that various nations along the coast had mentioned a mighty kingdom situated on their continent, at a great iHstance towards the east, the king of which, according to their description, professed the Christian religion. The Portuguese monarch immediately concluded, that this must be tne emperor of Abyssinia, to whom the Europeans, seduced by a mistake of Rubruquis, Marco Polo, and other travellers to the East, absurdly gave the name of Prester or Presbyter John ; and, as he hoped to receive information and assistance from a Christian prince, in prosecuting a scheme that tended to propagate their common faith, be resolved to open, if possible, some intercourse with his court. With this view, he made choice of Pedro de Covillam and Alphonso de Payva, who were p(;]fect masters of the Arabic language, and sent them into the East to search for the residence of this unknown potentate, and to make liim proiTeis of friendship. They had in chaise likewise to procure whatever intelligence the nations which they visited could supply, with respect to the trade of India, and the course of navigation to that continent.! While .John made this new attempt by land, to obtain some knowledge of the countiy which he wished so ardently to discover, he did not neglect the prosecution of this great design by sea. The conduct of a voyage for this purpose, the most arduous and important vvliich the Portuguese had ever projected, was committed to Baitholomew Diaz [1486], an ofhcer whose sagacity, experience, and fortitude rendered him equal to the under- taking. He stretched boldly towards the south, and proceeding beyond the utmost limits to which his countrymen had hitherto advanced, discovered near a thousand miles of new countiy. Neither the danger to which he was exDosed, by a succession of violent tempests in unknown seas, and by the iiequent mutinies of his crew, nor the calamities of famine which he suffered from losing his storeship, could deter him from prosecuting his enterprise. In recompense of his labours and perseverance, he at last descried that lofty promontory which bounds Africa to the south. But to descry it was all that he had in his power to accomplish. 1'he violence of the winds, the shattered condition of his ships, and the turbulent spirit of the sailors, compelled him to return after a voyage of sixteen months, in which he discovered a far greater extent of country than any former navigator, Diaz had called the promontoiy which terminated his voyage Cabo Tor- * Vide Nov. Orbis Tnbul. Geograph. secund. Ptolem. Aiiist. 1730. t Faria y Sousa Port. Asia vol. i. p. 36. LaSiau Decouv. d« Port. i. 46. A'M ERICA. 41 mentoso, or the Stormy Cape ; but the king, his master, as he now entertained no doubt of having Jound the loiig-desired route to India, gave it a name more inviting, and of better omen, The Cape of Good Hope.* Those sanguine expec'-ations of success were conlirmed by the intelli- gence which John received over land, in consequence of his embassy to Abyssinia. Coviilam and Fayva, in obedience to tlieir master's instructions, had repaired to Grand Cairo. From that city they travelled along with a caravan of Egyptian merchants, and, embarking on the Red Sea, arrived at Aden, in Arabia. There they separated; Fayva sailed directly towards Abyssinia ; Coviilam embarked tor the East Indies, and, having visited Calecut, Goa, and other cities on the Malabar coast, returned to Sofala, on the east side ot" Alrica, and thence to Grand Cairo, which Fayva and he had rixed upon as their place of rendezvous. Unlortunateiy the ibrmer was cruelly murdered in Abyssinia ; but Coviilam found at Cairo two Portuguese Jews, whom John, whose provident sagacity attended to every circumstance that could I'aciiitate tbe execution ot his schemes, had despatched after them, in order to receive a detail of their proceedings, and to communicate to them new instructions. By one of these Jews, Coviilam transmitted to Portugal a journal of his travels by sea and land, his remarks upon the trade of India, together with exact rnaps of the coasts on which he had touched ; and from what he himselt' had observed, as well as Irom tlie infor- mation of skillul seamen in dillerent countries, he concluded, that, by sailing round Airica, a passage might be found to the East Indies.! I he happy coincidence of Coviilam's opinion and report with the disco- veries which Diaz had lately made, left hardly any shadow of doubt with respect to the possibility of sailing from Europe to India. But the vast leiigtii of the voyage, and the furious storms which Diaz bad encountered near the Cape of Good Hope, alarmed and intimidated the Portuguese to such a degree, although by long experience they were now become adven- turous and skiitui mariners, that some time was requisite to prepare their minds lor this dangerous and extraordinary' voyage. The courage, how- ever, and authority of the monarch gradually dispelled the vain feai-s of his subjects, or made it necessary to conceal them. As John thought himself now upon the eve of accomplishing that great design which had been the principal object of his reign, his earnestness in prosecuting it became so vehement, ttiat it occupied his thoughts by day, and berea\ ed him of sleep through the night. While he was taking every precaution that his wisdom and experience could suggest, in order to ensure the success of the expedition, which was to decide concerning the fate of his favourite project, the fame of the vast discoveries which the Portuguese had already made, the reports concerning the extraordinary- intelligence which they had received from the East, and the prospect of the voyage which they now meditated, drew the attention of all the European nations, and held them in suspense and expectation. By some, the maritime skill and navigations of the Portuguese were compared with those of the Phenicians and Carthaginians, and exalted above them. Others formed conjectures concerning the revolutions which the success of the Portuguese schemes might occasion in the course of trade, and the political state of Europe. The V^enetians began to be disquieted •vvith the apprehension of losing their Indian commerce, the monopoly of which was the chief source of their power as well as opulence, and the Portuguese already enjoyed in fancy the we:ilth of the East. But during this interval, which gave such scope to the various workings of curiosity, ol hope, and of fear, an account was brought to Europe of an event no less extraordinary than unexpected, the discovery of a New World situated on the West ; and the eyes and admiration cl mankind turned immediately towards that great object. • raiia y Sousa Port Asia vol. 1. p. 2C. t Ibid. p. 27. Lafiiau Decouv. L p. 43. Vol. I.— 6 4 4S HISTORY OF [Book II. BOOK II. Among the foreigners whom the fame of the discoveries made by the Portuguese had allured into their service, was Christopher Colon, or Columbus, a subject ol the republic of Genoa. Neither the time nor place of his birth is known with certainty [ll]; but he was descended of an honourable family, though reduced to inrligence by various misfortunes. His ancestors having betaken themselves for subsistence to a seafaring life, Columbus discovered in his early youth the peculiar character and talents which mark out a man for that profession. His parents, instead of thwarting this original propensity of his mind, seem to have encouraged and confirmed it by the education which they gave him. After acquiiingsome knowledge of the Latin tongue, the only language in which science was taught at that time, he was instructed in geometry, cosmography, astronomy, and the art of drawing. To these he applied with such ardour and predilection, on account of their connexion with navigation, his tavcurite object, that he advanced with rapid proficiency in the study of thom. Thus qualified, he went to sea at the age of Iburteen [1461], and began his career on that element which conducted him to so much glory. His early voyages were to those ports in the Mediterranean which his countrymen the Genoese frequented. This being a sphere too narrow for his active mii'd, he made an excursion to the northern seas [1467], and visited the coast of Iceland, to which the English and other nations had begun to resort on account of its fishery. As navigation, in every direction, was now become enterprising, he proceeded beyond that island, the Thule of the ancients, and advanced several degrees within the polar circle. Having satisfied his curiosity, by a voyage which tended more to enlarge his knowledge of naval affairs than to improve his fortune, he entered into the service of a famous sea-captain of his own name and family. This man commanded a small squadiun fitted out at his own expense, and by cruising sometimes rgainst tb.e Mahometans, sometimes against the Venetians, the rivals of his country in trade, had acquired both wealth and reputation. With him ColuiuLus continued for several years, no less distinguished for his courage than lor his experience as a sailor. At length, in an obstinate engagement otT the coast of Portugal, with some Venetian caravals returning richly laden from the Low Countries, the vessel on board which he served took fire, together with one of the enemy's ships to which it was fast grappled. In this dreadful extremity his intrepidity and presence of mind did not tbrsake him. He threw himself into the sea, laid hold of a floating oar; and by the support of it, and his dexterity in swimming, he reached the shore, though above two leagues distant, and saved a life reserved for great undertakiiigs.* As soon as he recovered strength for the journey, he repaired to Lisbon, where many of his countrymen were settled. They soon conceived such a favourable opinion of his merit, as well as talents, that thej^ warmly solicited him to remain in that kingdom, where his naval skill and experience could not fail of rendering him conspicuous. To eveiy adventurer animated either with curiosity to visit new countries, or with ambition to distinguish himsel'', the Portuguese service was at that time extremely inviting. Columbus listened with a favourable ear to the advice of his friends, and, having gained the esteem of a Portuguese lady, whom he married, fixed his residence in Lisbon. This alliance, instead of detaching him from a seafaring life, contributed to enlarge the sphere of his naval knowledge, and to excite a * Lif* of Columbus, c. r. AMEinCA. 45 desire of extending it still further. His wife was a daughter of Bartholomew Perestrello, one of the captains empiojed by prince Henry in his early navigations, and who, under his protection, had discovered and planted the islands of Porto San'io and Madeira. Columbus got possession of the journals and charts of this experienced navigator ; and from them he learned the course which the Portuguese had held in making their discoveries, as well as the various circumstances which guided or encouraged them in their attempts. The study of these soothed and inflamed his favourite passion ; and while he contemplated the maps, and read the descriptions of the new countries which Perestrello had seen, his impatience to visit them became irresistible. In order to indulge it, he made a voyage to Madeira, and continued during several years to trade with that island, with the Canaries, the Azores, the settlements in Guinea, and all the other places which the Portuguese had discovered on the continent of Africa.* By the experience which Columbus acquired, during such a variety of voyages to almost every part of the globe with whicli at that time any intercourse was carried on by sea, he was now become one of the most skilful navigators in Europe. But, not satisfied with that praise, his ambition aimed at something more. The successful progress of the Portuguese navigators had awakened a spirit of curiosity and emulation, which set every man of science upon examining all the circumstances that led to the discoveries which they had made, or that afforded a prospect of succeeding in any new and bolder undertaking. The mind of Columbus, naturally inquisitive, capable of deep reflection, and turned to speculations of this kind, was so often employed in revolving the principles upon which the Portuguese had founded their schemes of discoveiy, and the mode on which they had carried them on, that he gradually began to form an idea of improving upon their plan, and of accomplishing discoveries which hitherto they had attempted in vain. To find out a passage by sea to the East Indies, was the important oVject in view at th'jt period. F^rom tlie time that the Portuguese doubled Cape de Verd, this was the point at which they aimed in all their na\ igations, and in comparison with it all their discoveiies in Africa appeared incon- siderable. The fertility and riches of India had been known for many ages : its spices and oLher valuable commodities were in high request throughout Europe, and the vast wealth of the Venetians, arising from their having engrossed this trade, had raised the envy of all nations. But how intent soever the Portuguese were upon liiscoAeringa new route to those desirable regions, tliev searched for it only by steering towards the souih, in hopes of arriving at India by turning to the east alter they had sailed round the further extremity of Africa. This course was still unknoAvn, and even it" discovered, was of such immense lengtl^ that a voyage from Europe to India must have appeared at that period an undertaking extremely arduous, and of veiy uncertain issue. More than half a century had been employed in advancing Iron Cape Non to the equator; a much longer space of time n:ight elapse before the moreextensive navigation from that tolndiacould be accomplished. These reflections upon the uncertainty, the danger, and tediousness of the course which the Portuguese were pursuing, naturally led Columbus to consider whether a shorter and more direct passage to the East Indies might not be found out. After revolvino; long and seriously every circumstance suggested by his superior knowledge in the theory as well as the practice of navigation ; after comparing attentively the obsen-ations of modern pilots with the hints and conjectures of ancient authors, he at last concluded, that by sailing directly towards the west, across the Atlaniic ocean, new countries, which probably formed a part of the great continent of India, must infalliblv be discovered. * Ufe of Coliunbus, c. Iv. v. 44 H I S T O R y OF I Book II. Principles and arguments of various kinds, and derived from different sources, induced him to adopt this opinion, seemingly as chimerical as it was new and extraordinary. The spherical hgure ol the earth was known, and its magnitude ascertained with some degree of accuracy. I'rom this it was evident, that the continents of Europe, Asia, and Alrica, as tar as they weie known at that time, termed but a small ])ortion of the terraqueous globe. It was suitable to our ideas concerning the wisdom and beneficence of the Author of Nature, to believe that the vast space stiii unexplored vvas not covered entirely by a waste unprofitable ocean, but occupied by countries fit for the habitation of man. It appeared likewise extremely probable that the continent on this side of the globe was balanced by a proportional quantity of land in the other hemisphere. These conclusions concerning the existence of another continent, drawn from the hgure and structure ol the globe, were confirmed by the observations and conjectures ol UiOdern navigatois. A Portuguese pilot, having stretched I'uither to the west than was usual at that time, took up a piece of timber aitihcially carved floating updn the sea ; and rs it was driven towards him by a westerly wind, he concluded that it came from some unknown land situated in that quarter. Columbus's brother- in-law had found to the west of the Madeira isles, a piece of timber faj^hioned in the same manner, and brought by the same wind ; and had seen liKcwise canes of an enormous size floating upon the waves, which resembled those described by Ptolemy as productions peculiar to the East indies.* After a course of westerly winds, trees torn up by the roots weie ottcn driven upon the coasts of the Azores ; and at one time, the dead bodies of two men with singular features, resembling neither the inhabitants ol Europe nor of Africa, were cast ashore there. As the force of this united evidence, arising from Theoretical principles and practical observations, led Columbus to expect the discovery ot new countries in the western ocean, other reasons induced him to beiie\e that these must be connected with the continent of India. 1 hough the ancients had hardly ever penetrated into India lurther than the banks of the Ganges, j'et some Greek authors had ventured to describe the provinces beyond ihat river. As men are prone, and at liberty, to magniiy what is remote or unknown, they represented them as regions of an immense extent. Ctesias affirmed that India was as large as all the rest of Asia. Onesicritus, whom Pliny the naturalist follows,! contended Uiat it was equal to a third part of the habitable earth. Nearchus asserted, that it would take lour UiOnths to march in a straight line from one extremity of India to the other.;}: 1 he journal of Marco Polo, who had proceeded towards the East far be}ond the limits to which any European had ever advanced, seemed to conluin these exaggerated accounts of the ancients. By his magnificent descriptions of the kingdoms of Cathay and Cipango, and of many other countries the names of which were unknown in Europe, India appeared to be a region of vast extent. From these accounts, which, however defective, were the most accurate that the people of Europe had received at that period with respect to the remote parts of the East, Columbus drew a just conclusion. He contended that, in proportion as the continent of India stretched out towards the East, it iimst, in consequence of the spherical figure ol the earth, approach near to the islands which had lately been discovered to the west of Africa ; that the distance from the one to the other was probably not very considerable ; and that the most direct as well as shortest course to the remote regions of the East was to be found by sailing due west, [l^] This notion concerning the vicinity of India to the western parts of our continent, was countenanced by some eminent writers among the ancients, the sanction of whose authority was necessar)', in that age, to procure a favourable reception to any tenet. Aristotle thought it probable that the Columns oi • Lib. i. c. 17. t Nat. Hist. lib. vi. c. 17. t Sirab. Geogr. lib. xv. p. 1011. AMERICA. 45 Hercules, or Straits of Gibraltar, were not far removed from the East Indies, and that there mi2:ht be a communication by sea between them.* Seneca, in terms still mo7e explicit, affirms, that ^vith a fair wind one might sail from Spain to India in a few days.j The famous Atlantic island described by Plato, and supposed by many to be a real country, beyond which an unknown continent was situated, is represented by him as lying; at no great distance froiiT Spain. After weighing all these particulars, Columbus, in whose character the modesty and diffidence of true genius were united with the ardent enthusiasm of a projector, did not rest with such absolute assurance either upon his own arguments, or upon the authority of the ancients, as not to consult such of his contemporaries as were capable of comprehending the nature of ihe evidence which he produced in support of his opinion. As early as the year one thousand four hundred and seventy- four, he communicated his ideas concerning the probability of discovering new countries, by sailing westward, to Paul, a physician of Florence, eminent for his kno#Iedge of cosmography, and who, I'rom the learning as well as candour which he discovers in his reply, appears to have been well entitled to the confidence which Columbus placed in him. 'He warmly approved of the plan, siiggested several facts in confirmation of it, and encouraged Columbus to persevere in an undertaking so laudable, and which must redound so much to the honour of his country and the benefit of Europe.^ To a mind less capable of forming and of executing great designs than that of Columbus, ail those reasonings and observations and authorities would have served only as the foundation of some plausible and fruitless theory, which might have fiu'nished matter for ingenious discourse or fanciful conjecture. But with his sanguine and enterprising temper speculation led directly to action, ^'ully satisfied himself with respect to the truth of his system, he was impatient to bring it to the test of experiment, and to set out upon a voyage of discovery. The first step towards this was to secure the patronage oi some of tlie considerable powers in Europe capable of under- taking suoh an enterprise.^ As long absence had not extinguished the affection \vhicli he bore to his native country, he wished that it should reap the fruits of his labours and invention. With this view, he laid his scheme before the senate of Genoa, and, making his country the first tender of his service, oftered to sail under the banners of the republic in quest of the new regions which he expected to discover. But Columbus had resided for so many years in foreign parts, that his countrymen were unacquainted with his abilities and ciiaracter ; and, though a maritime people, were so litde accus- tomed to distant voyages, that they could form no just idea of the principles on which he founded his hopes ot success. They inconsiderately rejected his proposal, as the dream of a chimerical projector, and lost ibr ever the opportunity of restoring their commonwealth to its ancient splendour.§ Having pertbrmed wliat was due to his country, Columbus was so little discouraged by the repulse which he had received, that instead of relin- quishing his undertaking he pursued it with fresh ardour. He made his next overture to John II. king of Portugal, in whose dominions he had been long established, and whom he considered on that account, as having the second claim to his service. > Here every circumstance seemed to promise him a more favourable reception : he applied to a monarch of an enterprising genius, no incompetent judge in naval afi:iirs, and proud of patronising every attempt to d-.-cover new countries. His subjects were the most experienced navigators in Europe, and the least apt to be intimidated either by the novelty or boldness of any maritime expedition. In Portugal, the prol'essiondi skill of Columbus, as well as his personal goofl qualities, were thoroughly known : and as die former rendered it probable that his scheme was not • Anatot. de Coelo, lih. ii. c. 14. edit. Du Val. Par. lG2i). vol. i. p. 472. t Scncc. Quiest. Natur. lib. i. in proem. J Life of Columbus, c. viii. $ Herrera Ilist. de las Indias Occid. dec. i. lib. i. c. vii. 4» H 1 S T U R V O F iliooK II. altogether visionary, the latter exempted hirn iVoni the suspicion of any sinister intention in proposing it. Accordingly, the king hstened to him in the most gracious manner, and relerred the consideration of hi% plan to Diego Ortiz, bishop of Ceuta, and two Jewish physicians, eminent cos- moo;raphers, whom he was accustomed to consult in matters of this kind. As in Genoa, ignorance had opposed and disappointed Columbus f in Lisbon, he had to combat with prejudice, an enemy no less formidable. f 'l'*he persons according to whose decision his scheme was to be adopted, or tejected, liad been the chief directors of the Portuguese navigations, and Had advised to search for a passage to India by steering a course directly opposite to that which Columbus recommended as shorter and more certain. They cculd not, therefore, approve of his proposal without submitting to the double mortification of condemning their own theory, and acknowledging his superior sagacity. After teasing him with captious questions, and startir^g innumerable objections, with a view of betraying him into such a particular explanation of his system as might draw from him a full dis*»very of its nature, they deferred passing a final judgment with respect to it. In the mean time they conspired to rob him of the honour and advantages which he expected from the success of his scheme, advising the king to despatch a vessel secretly, in order to attempt the proposed discovery by Ibllowing exactly the course which Columbus seemed to point out. John, forgetting on this occasion the sentiments becoming a monarch, meanly adopted this perfidious counsel. But the pilot chosen to execute Columbus's plan had neither the genius nor the tbrtitude of its author. Contrary winds arose, no sight of approaching land appeared, his courage failed, and he returned to Lisbon, execrating the project as equally extravagant and dangerous.* L^pori discovering this dishonourable transaction, Columbus felt the mdignation natural to an ingenuous mind, and in the warmth of his resent- ment determined to break otT all intercourse with a nation capable of such flagrant treachery. He instantly quilted the kingdom, and landed in Spain towards the close of the year one tliousand four hundred and eighty-!cur. As he was now at liberty to court the protection ot" any patron whom he could engage to approve of his plan, and to cany il into execution, he resolved to propose it in person to Ferdinand and Isabella, who at that tin;e governed the united kingdoms of Castile and Aragon. But as he had already experienced the uncertain issue of application to kings and ministers, he took the precaution of sending into England his brother Bartholon;ew, to whom he had fully communicated his ideas, in order that he might negoci^te at the same time with Henry VII., who was reputed one of the most sagacious as well as opulent princes in Europe. It was not without reason that Columbus entertained doubts and fears with respect to the reception of his proposals in the Spanish court. Spain was at that juncture engaged in a dangerous war with Granada, the last of the Moorish kingdoms in that countiy. The wary and suspicious temper of Ferdinand was not formed to relish bold or uncomm.on designs. Isabella, though more generous and enterprising, was under the intiuence of her husband in all her actions. The Spaniards had hitherto made no efforts to extend navigation beyond its ancient limits, and had beheld the amazing progress of discovery among their neighbours the Portuguese without one attempt to imitate or to rival them. The war with the Infidels afforded an ample field to the national activity and love of glory. Under circumstances so unfavourable, it was impossible for Columbus to make rapid progress with a nation naturally slow and dilatory in ibrming all its resolutions. His character, however, was admirably adapted to that of the people whose confidence and protection he solicited. He was grave, though courteous in lis deportment ; circumspect in his words and actions, irreproachable in his * Life r.f Columbus, c. xi. Herrera, dec. i. lib. i. c. 7. AMERICA, 47 morals, and exem.plary in his attention to all the duties and functions ol religion. By qualities so respectable, he not only grained many private friends, but acquired such general esteem, that, notwithstanding the plainness of his appearance, suitable to the mediocrity of his fortune, he was not considered as a mere adventurer, to whom indigence had suggested a visionary project, but was received as a person to whose propositions serious attention was due. Ferdinand and Isabella, though fully occupied by their operations against the Moors, paid so much regard to Columbus, as to remit the consideration of his plan to the queen's confessor, Ferdinand de Talavera. He consulted such oi his countrymen as were supposed best qualified to decide with respect to a sulject of this kind. But true science had hithei'to made so little progress in Spain, that the pretended philosophers, selected to judge in a matter of such moment, did not comprehend the first principles upon which Columlius founded his conjectures and hopes. Some of them, trom mistaken notions concerning the dimennions of the globe, contended that a voyage to those remote parts of the east which Columbus expected to discover, could not be performed in less than three years. Others co?xluded, that either he would find the ocean to be of infinite extent, according to the opinion of some ancient philosophers ; or, if he should persist in steering towards the west beyond a cerlaiii point, that the convex figure of the globe would prevent his return, and that he must inevitably perish in the vain attempt to open a C(»;nmunicalion between the twoopposite hemispheres which nature had for ever disjoined. Even without deigning to enter into any particular discussion, many rejected the scheme in general, upon the credit of a maxim, under which the ignorant and unenterprising shelter themselves in every age, " That it is presumptuous in any person, to suppose that he alone possesses knowledge superior to all the rest of mankind united." They maintained, that il there were really any such countries as Columbus pre- tended, they could not have remained so long concealed, nor would the wisdom and sagacity of former ages have left the glory of this invention to an obscure Genoese pilot. It required all Colu;nbus's patience and address to negotiate with men capable of advancing such strange propositions. He had to contend not only with the obstinacy of ignorance, but with what is still more intractable, the pride of talse knowledge. After innumerable conferences, and wasting five years in fruitless endeavours to inform and to satisfy judges so little capable of deciding with propriety, Talavera at last made such an unta- vourable report to Ferdinand and Isabella, as induced them to acquaint Coiu'iibus, that until the war with the Moors should be brought to a period it would be imprudent to engage in any new and extensive enterprise. Whatever care was taken to soften the hai-shness of this declaration, Columbus considered it as a final rejection of his proposals. But, happily for mankind, that superiority of genius, which is capable of forming great and uncommon designs, is usually accompanied with an ardent enthusiasm, which can neither be cooled by delays nor damped by disappointment. Columbus was of this sanguine temper. Though he felt deeply the cruel blow given to his hopes, and retired immediately from a court where he had been amused so long with vain expectations, his confidence in the just ness of his own system did not diminish, and his impatience to den)onstrate the truth of it by an actual experiment became greater than ever. Having courted the protection of sovereign states without success, he applied next to persons of inferior rank, and addressed successively the Dukes of Medina Sidonia and Medina Celi, who, though subjects, were possessed of pov\er and opulence more than equal to the enterprise which he projected. His negotiations with ihem proved as fruitless as those in which he had been hithertoengaged ; for these noblemen were either as little convinced by Colum- bus's arguments as their superiors, or they were afraid of alarming the jealousy 48 HISTORY OF LBookII. and offending' the pride of Ferdinand, by countenancing a scheme which he had rejected.* Amid the painful sensations occasioned by such a succession of disap- pointments, Columbus had to sustain the additional distress of having received no accounts of his brother whom he had sent to the court of England. In his voyage to that country', Bartholomew had been so unfortunate as to fall into the hands of pirates, who having stripped him of every thing detained him a prisoner for several years. At length he made his escape, and arrived in London, but in such extreme indigence, that he was obliged to employ himself, during a considerable time in drawing and selling maps, in order to pick up as much money as would purchase a decent dress in which he might venture to appear at court. He then laid before the king the proposals with which he had been intrusted by his brother ; and not- withstanding Henry's excessive caution and parsimony, which rendered him averse to new or extensive undertakings, he received Columbus's overtures with more approbation than any monarch to whom they had hitherto been presented. Meanwhile, Columbus being unacquainted with his brother's fate, and having now no prospect of encouragement in Spain, resolved to visit the court of England in person, in hopes of meeting with a more favourable reception there. He had already made preparations for this purpose, and taken measures for the disposal of his children during his absence, when Juan Perez, the guardian of the monaslerj'of Rabida, near Palos, in which they had been educated, earnestly solicited him to defer his journey for a short time. Perez was a man of considerable learning, and of some credit with queen Isabella, to whom he was known personally. He was warmly attached to Columbus, with whose abilities as well as integrity he had many opportunities of being acquainted. Prompted by curiosity or by iriendship, he entered upon an accurate examination of his system, in conjunction with a physician settled in the neighbourhood, who was a con- siderable proficient in mathematical knowledge. This investigation satisfied them so thoroughly, with respect to the solidity of the principles on which Columbus founded his opinion, and the probability of success in executing the plan which he proposed, that Perez, in order to prevent his country from being deprived of the glory and benefit which must accrue to the Eatrons of such a grand enterprise, ventured to write to Isabella, conjuring er to consider the matter anew with the attention which it merited. Moved by the representations of a person whon) she respected, Isabella desired Perez to repair immediately to the village of Santa Fe, in which, on account of the siege of Granada, the court resided at that time, that she might conler with him upon this important subject. The first effect of their interview was a gracious invitation ot Columbus back to court, accom- panied with the present of a small sum toecjuip him for the journey. As there was now a certain prospect that the war with the Moors would speedily be brought to a happy issue by the reduction of Granada, which would leave the nation at liberty to engage in new undertakings ; this, as well as the mark of royal favour, with which Columbus nad been lately honoured, encouraged nis friends to appear with greater confidence than formerly in support of his scheme. The chief of these, Alonso de Quinta- liilla, comptroller of the finances in Castile, and Luis de Santangel, recei\ er of the ecclesiastical revenues in Aragon, whose meritorious zeal in promoting this great design entitles their names to ar) honourable place in hisloiy, introduced Columbus to many persons of high rank, and interested them warmly in his behalf. But it was not an easy matter to inspire Ferdinand with favourable sen- timents. He still regarded Columbus's project as extravagant and chime- ♦ Life of Columb. c. 13 Herrcra, dec. J. lib. i. c 7. AMERICA. 49 ncal ; and in order to render the efforts of his partisans ineffectual, he had the address to employ, in this new negotiation with him, some of the persons who had formerly pronounced his scTieme to be impracticable. To their astonishment, Columbus appeared before them with the same confident hopes of success as formerly, and insisted upon the same high recompense. He proposed that a small neet should be fitted out, under his command, to attempt the discovery, and demanded to be appointed hereditaiy admiral and viceroy of all the seas and lands which he should discover, and to have the tenths of the profits arising from them settled irrevocably upon himself and his descendants. At the same time, he offered to advance the eighth part of the sum necessary for accomplishing his design, on condition that he should be entitled to a proportional share of benefit from the adventure. U the enterprise should totally miscarry, he made no stipulation for any re- ward or emolument whatever. Instead of viewing this conduct as the clearest evidence of his full persuasion with respect to the truth of his own system, or being struck with that magnanimity which, after so many delays and repulses, would stoop to nothing inferior to its original claims, the per- sons with whom Columbus treated began meanly to calculate the expense of the expedition, and the value of the reward which he demanded. The expense, moderate as it was, they represented to be too great for Spain in the present exhausted state of its finances. They contended that the honours and emoluments claimed by Columbus were exorbitant, even if he should perform the utmost of what he had promised ; and if all his sanguine hopes should prove illusive, such vast concessions to an adventurer ivould be deemed not only inconsiderate, but ridiculous. In this imposing garb of caution and prudence, their opinion appeared so plausible, and was so warmly supported by Ferdinand, that Isabella declined giving any coun- tenance to Columbus, and abruptly broke off the negotiation with him which she had begun. This was more mortiiying to Columbus than all the disappointments which he had hitherto met with. The invitation to court from Isabella, like an unexpected ray of light, had opened such prospects of success as en- couraged him to hope that his labours v/ere at an end ; but now darkness and uncertainty returned, and his mind, firm as it was, could hardly support the shock of such an unforeseen reverse. He withdrew in deep anguish from court, with an intention of prosecuting his voyage to England as his last resource. About that time Granada surrendered, and Ferdinand and Isabella, in triumphal pomp, took possession of a city [Jan. 2, 1492], the reduction of which extirpated a foreign power from the heart of their dominions, and rendered them masters of all the provinces extending from the bottom of the Pyrenees to the frontiers of Portugal. As the flow of spirits which ac- companies success elevates the mind, and renders it enterprising, Quintanilla and Santangel, the vigilant and discerning patrons of Columbus, took ad- vantage of this favourable situation, in order to make one effort more in behalt of their friend. They addressed themselves to Isabella ; and after expressing some surprise, that she, who had always been the munificent pa- troness of generous undertakings, should hesitate so long to countenance the most splendid scheme that had ever been proposed to any monarch ; they represented to her, that Columbus was a man of a sound understanding and virtuous character, well qualified, by his experience in navigation, as well as his knowlec^e of geometry, to form just ideas with respect to the struc- ture of the globe and the situation of its various regions , that, by offering to risk his own life and fortune in the execution of his scheme, he gave the most satisfying evidence both of his integrity and hope of success ; that the sum requisite for equipping such an armament as he demanded was incon- siderable, and tlie advantages which might accrue from his undertaking were immense : that he demanded no recompense for his invention and labour. Vol. 1.--7 60 HISTORY OF [Book II. but what was to arise from the countries which lie should discover ; that, as it was worthy of her magnanimity to make this noble attempt to extend the sphere of human knowledge, and to open an intercourse with regions hitherto unknown, so it would afford the highest satisfaction to her piety and zeal, after re-establishing the Christian faith in those provinces of Spain from which it had been long banished, to discover a new world, to which she might communicate the light and blessings of divine truth ; that if now she did not decide instantly, the opportunity would be irretrievably lost , that Columbus was on his way to foreign countries, where some prince, more fortunate or adventurous, would close with his proposals, and Spain would for ever bewail that fatal timidity which had excluded her from the . glory and advantages that she had once in her power to have enjoyed. These forcible arguments, urged by persons of such authority, and at a juncture so well chosen, produced the desired effect. They dispelled all Isabella's doubts and fears ; she ordered Columbus to be instantly recalled, declared her resolution of employing him on his own terms, and, regretting the low estate of her finances, generously offered to pledge her own jewels in order to raise as much money as might be needed in making preparations for the voyage. Santangel, in a transport of gratitude, kissed the Queen's hand, and, in order to save her from having recourse to such a mortilying expedient for procuring money, engaged to advance immediately the sum that was requisite.* Columbus had proceeded some leagues on his journey, when the messenger from Isabella overtook him. Upon receiving an account of the unexpected resolution in his favour, he returned directly to Santa Fe, though some remainder of diffidence still mingled itself with his joy. But the cordial reception which he met with from Isabella, together with the near prospect of setting out upon that voyage which had so long been the object ot his thoughts and wishes, soon effaced the remembrance of all that he had suf- fered in Spain during eight tedious years of solicitation and suspense. The negotiation now went forward witii facility and despatch, and a treaty or capitulation with Columbus was signed on the seventeenth of April, one thousand four hundred and ninety-two. The chief articles of it were : — 1. Ferdinand and Isabella, as sovereigns of the ocean, constituted Columbus their high admiral in all the seas, islands, and continents, which should be discovered by his industry ; and stipulated that he and his heirs for ever should enjoy this office, with the same powers and prerogatives which belonged to the high admiral of Castile within the limits of his jurisdiction 2. They appointed Columbus their viceroy in all the islands and continents which he should discover ; but if, for the better administration of affairs, it should hereafter be necessary to establish a separate governor in any of those countries, they authorized Columbus to name three persons of whom they would choose one for that office ; and the dignity of viceroy, with all its immunities, was likewise to be hereditary in the family of Columbus. 3. They granted to Columbus and his heirs for ever, the tenth of the free profits accruing from the productions and commerce of the countries which he should discover. 4. They declared, that if any controversy or lawsuit shall arise with respect to any mercantile transaction in the countries which should be discovered, it should be determined by the sole authority of Columbus, or of judges to be appointed by him. 5. They permitted Columbus to advance one-eighth part of what should be expended in preparing for the expedition, and in carrying on commerce with the countries which he should discover, and entitled him, in return, to an eighth part of the profit.! Though the name of Ferdinand appears conjoined with that of Isabella in this transaction, his distrust of Columbus was still so violent that he • Herrera, dec. 1. lib. 1. c. 8. t Life of Columbus, c. 15. Hcrrcra, dec. 1. lib. 1. c. 9. AMERICA. 61 refused to take any part in the enterprise as king of Aragon. As the whole expense of tiie expedition was to be defrayed by the crown of Castile, Isabella reserved for her subjects of that kingdom an exclusive right to all the benefits which might redound from its success. As soon as the treaty was signed, Isabella, by her attention and activity in forwarding the preparations for the voyage, endeavoured to make some reparation to Columbus tor the time which hehadlost in fruitless solicitation. By the twelfth of May, all that depended upon her was adjusted; and Columbus waited on the king and queen in order to receive their final instructions. Every thing respecting the destination and conduct of the voyage they committed implicitly to the disposal of his prudence. But that they might avoid giving any just cause of offence to the king of l^ortugal, they strictly enjoined him not to approach near to the Portuguese settlements on the coast of Guinea, or in any of the other countries to which the Portuguese claimed right as discoverers. Isabella had ordered the ships of which Columbus was to take the command to be fitted out in the port of Palos,a small maritime town in the province of Andalusia. As the guardian Juan Perez, to whom Columbus had already been so much indebted; resided in the neighbourhood of this place, he, by the influence of that good ecclesiastic, as well as by his own connection with the inhabitants, not only raised among them what he wanted of the sum that he was bound by treaty to advance, but engaged several of them to accompany him in the voyage. The chief of these associates were three brothers of the name of Pinzon, of considerable wealth, and of great experience in naval affairs, who ^vere willing to hazard their lives and fortunes in the expedition. But after all the efforts of Isabella and Columbus, the armament was not suitable either to the dignity of the nation by v/hich it was equipped, or to the importance of the service for which it was destined. It consisted of three vessels. The largest, a ship of no considerable burdeti, was com- manded by Columbus, as admiral, Avho gave it the name of Sunla Maria, out of respect tor the Blessed Virgin, whom he honoured Vv'ilh singular devotion. Of the second, called the PiaUt, Marlon Pinzon was captain, and his brother Francis pilot. Tlie third, named the J\~igna, was under the command of Vincent Yanez Pinzon. These two were light vessels hardlj'' superior in burden or force to large boats. The squadrun, if it merits that name, was victualled for twelve months, and had on board nitiety men, mostly sailors, together witli a few adventurers Avho followed the foilune of Columbus, and some gentlemen of Isabella's court, whom she appointed to accompany him. Though the expense of the undertaking was one of the circumstances which chiefly alarmed the court ol Spain, and retarded so long the negotiation with Columbus, the sum employed in filling out this squadron did not exceed four thousand pounds. As the art of ship-building in the fifleenlh century was extremely rude, and the bulk of vessels was accommodated to the short and easy voyages along the coast which they were accustomed to perform, it is a proof of the courage, as well as enterprising genius of Columbus, that he ventured, with a fleet so unfit for a distant navigation, lo explore unknown seas, where he had no chart to guide him, no knowledge of the tides and currents, and no experience of the dangers to which he might be exposed. His eagerness to accomplish the great design which had so long engrossed his ihouglits, made him overlook or disregard every circumstance that would have intimidated a mind less adven'urous. He pushed forward the preparations with such ardour, and was seconded so effectually by the persons to whom Isabella committed the superintendence of this business, that every thing was soon in readiness for the voyage. But as Columbus was deeply impressed with sentiments of religion, he would not set out upon an expe- dition so arduous, and of which one great object was to extend the know- ledge of the Christian faith, without imploring publicly the guidance and 62 HISTORY OF [Book II. protection of Heaven. With this view, he, together with all the persons under his command, marched in solemn procession to the monastery of Rabida. After confessing' their sins, and obtaining; absolution, they received the holy sacrament from the hands of the guardian, who joined his pravers to theirs for the success of an enterprise which he had so zealously patronized. Next morning, being Friday the third day of August, in the year one thousand four hundred and ninety-two, Columbus set sail, a little before sunrise, in joresence of a vast crowd of spectators, who sent up their sup- plications to Heaven for the prosperous issue of the voyage, which they wished rather than expected. Columbus steered directly for the Canaiy Islands, and arrived there [Aug. 1'3] without any occurrence that would have deserved notice on any oiher occasion. But, in a voyage of such expectation and importance, every circumstance ^vas the object of attention. The rudder of the Pinta broke loose the day after she left the harbour ; and that accident alarmed the crew, no less superstitious than unskilful, as a certain omen of the unfortunate destiny of the expedition. Even in the short run to the Canaries, the ships were found to be so crazy and ill appointed, as to be very improper for a navigation which was expected to be both long and dangerous. Columbus refitted them, however, to the best of his power ; and having supplied himself with fresh provisions, he took his departure from Gomera, one of the most westerly of the Canary Islands, on the sixth day of September. Here the voyage ot discovery may properly be said to begin ; for Columbus, holding his course due west, left imm.ediately the usual track of navigation, and stretched into unfrequented and unknown seas. The first day, as it was very calm, he made but little way ; but on the second he lost sight of the Canaries; and many of the sailors, dejected already, and dismayed, when they contemplr ted the boldness of the undertaking, began to beat their breasts, and to shed tears, as if they were never more to behold land. Columbus comforted them with assurances of success, and the prospect of vast wealth in those opulent regions whither he was con- ducting them. This early discoveiy of the spirit of his followers taught Columbus that he must prepare to struggle not only with the unavoidable difficulties which might be expected from the nature of his undertaking, but with such as were likely to arise from the ignorance and timidity of the people under his command ; and he perceived that the art of governing the minds of men would be no less requisite for accomplishing the discoveries wliich he had in view, than naval skill and undaunted courage. Happily for himself, and for the country by which he was employed, he joined to the ardent temper and inventive genius of a pro- jector, virtues of another species, which are rarely united with them. He possessed a thorough knM'ledge of mankind, an insinuating address, a patient perseverance in executing any plan, the perfect government of his own passions, and the talent of acquiring an ascendant over those of other men. All these qualities, which formed him for command, were accom- panied with that superior kno^vledge of his profession, which begets confidence in times of difficulty and danger. To unskilful Spanish sailors, accustomed only to coasting voyages in the Mediterranean, the maritime science of Columbus, the fruit of thirty j'ears' experience, im- proved by an acquaintance with all the inventions of the Portuguese, appeared immense. As soon r.s they put to sea, lie regulated every thing by his sole authority; he superintended the execution of eveiy order ; and allowing himself only a few hours for sleep, he was at all other times upon deck. As his course lay through seas which had not formerly been visited, the sounding line, or instruments for observation, were continually in his hands. After the example of tiie Portuguese discoverers, he attended to the motion of tides and currents, watched the flight of birds, tlie appear AMERICA. 53 ance of fishes, of seaweeds, and of every thing that floated on the waves, and entered every occurrence, with a minute exactness, in the journal which he kept. As the length of the voyage could not fail of alarming sailors habitu- ated only to short excursions, Cotumbiis endeavoured to conceal from them the real progress which they made. With this view, though diey run eighteen leagues on the second day after they left Gomera, he gave out that they had advanced only fifteen, and he uniformly employed the same artifice of reckoning short during the ^vhole voyage. By the fourteenth of Septem- ber the fleet was above two hundred leagues to the west of the Canary Isles, at a greater distance from land than any Spaniard had been before that time. There they were struck with an appearance no less astonishing than new They observed that the magnetic needle, in their compasses, did not point exactly to the polar star, but varied towards the west : and as they proceeded, this variation increased. This appearance, which is now ilimiiiar, though it still remains one of the mysteries of nature, into the cause of which the sagacity of man hath not been able to penetrate, filled the companions of Columbus with terror. They were now in a boundless and unknown ocean, far from the usual course of navigation ; nature itself seemed to be altered, and the only guide which they had left was about to fail them. Columbus, with no less quickness than ingenuity, invented a reason for this appearance, which, though it did not satisty himself, seemed so plausible to them, that it dispelled their fears, or silenced their murmurs. He still continued to steer due west, nearly in the same latitude with the Canary Islands. In this course he came within the sphere of the trade wind, which blows invariably from east to west, between the tropics and a few degrees beyond them. He advanced before this steady gale with such uniform rapidity that it was seldom necessaiy to shift a sail. When about four hundred leagues to the west of the Canaries, he found the sea so covered with weeds, that it resembled a meadow of vast extent, and in some places they were so thick as to retard the motion of the vessels. This strange appearance occasioned new alarm and disquiet. The sailors ima gined that they were now arrived at the utmost boundary of the navigable ocean ; that these floating weeds woulcf obstruct their further progress, and concealed dangerous rocks, or some large track of land, which had sunk, they knew not how, in that place. Columbus endeavoured to per suade them, that what had alarmed ought rather to have encouraged them, and was to be considered as a sign of approaching land. At the same lime, a brisk gale arose, and carried them lorward. Several birds were seen hovering about the ship [13], and directing their flight towards the west. The desponding crew resumed some degree of spirit, and began to entertain fresh hopes. Upon the first of October they were, according to the admiral's reckon- ing, seven hundred and seventy leagues to the west of the Canaries ; but lest his men should be intimidated by the prodigious length of the naviga tion, he gave out that they had proceeded only five hundred and eighty- four leagues, and fortunately, for Columibus. neither his own pilot, nor those of the other ships, had skill sulhcient to coiTect this error, and discover the deceit. They had now been above three weeks at sea ; they had pro ceeded far beyond wliat former navigators had attempted or deemed possi ble ; all their prognostics of discovery, drawn from the flight of birds and other circumstances, had proved fallacious ; the appearances of land, with which their own credulity or the artifice of their commander had from time to time flattered and amused them, had been altc^edier illusive, and their prospect of success seemed now to be as distant as ever. These reflections occurred often to men who had no other object or occupation than to reason and discourse concerning the intention and circumstances of their expedition' They made impression at first upon the ignorant and timid, and, extending by degrees to such as were better informed or more resolute, the contagion 54 HISTORY OF [Book II. spread at length from ship to ship. From secret whispers or murmuring^, they proceeded to open cabals and public complaints. They taxed their sovereign with inconsiderate credulity, in paying such regard to the vain promises and rash conjectures ol an indigent torcigncr, as to hazard the lives of so many of her own subjects in prosecuting a chimerical scheme They affirmed that they had fully performed their duty, by venturing so far in an unknown and hopeless course, and could incur no blame for refusing to follow any longer a desperate adventurer to certain destruction. Tliey contended, that it was necessary to think of returning to Spain, while tlieir crazy vessels were still in a condition to keep the sea, but expressed their fears that the attempt would prove vain, as the wind, which had hitherto been so favourable to their course, must render it impossible to sail in an opposite direction. All agreed that Columbus should be compelled by force to adopt a measure on which their common safety depended. Some of the more audacious proposed, as the most expeditious and certain method of getting rid at once of his remonstrances, to throw him into the sea, being persuaded that, upon their return to Spain, the death of an unsuccessful projector would excite little concern, and be inquired into widi no curiosity. Columbus was fully sensible ot his perilous situation. He had observed, with great uneasiness, the fatal operation of ignorance and of fear in producing disaffection among his crew, and saw that it was now ready to burst out into open mutiny. He retained, however, perfect presence of mind. He affected to seem ignorant of their machinations, ^iotwithstanding the agitation and solicitude of his own mind, he appeared with a cheerful countenance, like a man satisfied with the progress he had made, and confident of success. Sometimes he employed all the arts of insinuation to soothe his men. Sometimes he endeavoured to work upon their ambition or avarice, by magnificent descriptions of the lame and wealth which they were about to acquire. On other occasions he assumed a tone of authority, and threatened them with vengeance from their sovereign, if, by their dastardly behaviour, they should defeat this noble effort to promote the glory of God, and to exalt the Spanish name above that of every other nation. Even with seditious sailors, the words of a man whom they had been accustomed to reverence, were weighty and persuasive, and not only restrained them from those violent excesses which they meditated, but prevailed with them to accompany their admiral for some time longer. As they proceeded, the indications of approaching land seemed to be more certain, and excited hope in proportion. The birds began to appear in flocks, making towards the southwest. Columbus, in imitation of the Portuguese navigators, who had been guided, in several of their discoveries, by the motion of birds, altered his course from due west towards that quarter whither they pointed their flight. But, after holding on fbrseveial days in this new direction, without any better success than formerly, having seen no object, during thirty days, but the sea and the sky, the hopes of his companions subsided faster than they had risen ; their fears revived with additional force ; impatience, raii;'e, and despair, appeared in every counte- nance. All sense of subordination was lost : the officers, who had hitherto concurred with Columbus in opinion, and supported his authority, now took part with the private men ; they assembled tumulUiously on the deck, expostulated with their commander, mingled threats with their expostulations, and required him instantly to tack about and to return to Europe. Columbus perceived that it would be of no avail to have recourse to any of his former arts, which, bavins: been tried so often, had lost their effect ; and that it was impossible to rekindle any zeal for the success of the expedition among men in whose breasts fear had extiiiguished every generous sentiment. He saw that it was no less vain to think of employing either gentle or severe measures to quell a mutiny so general and so violent. It was necessary, on all these accounts, to soothe passions which he could no longer command. A M E R I C A. 55 and to give way to a torrent too impetuous to l;e checked. He promised solemnly to his men that he would comply with their requ<;st,proviile(l they would accompany him, and obey his command for three days longer, and if, during that time, land were not discovered, he would then abandon the enterprise, and direct his course towards Spain.* Enraged as the sailors were, and impatient to turn their faces again towards their native country, this proposition did not appear to them unreasonable. Nor did Columbus hazard much in confining himself to a term so short. The presages of discovering land Avere no^v so numerous and promising, that he deemed them infallible. For some days the sounding line reached the bottom, and the soil which it brought up indicated land to be at no great distance. The flocks of birds increased, and were composed not only of seafowl, but of such land birds as could not be supposed to fly far from the shore. The crew of the Pinta observed a cane floating, which seemed to have been newly cut, and likewise a piece of timber artificially carved. The sailors aboard the Nigna took up the branch of a tree with red berries, perfectly fresh. The clouds around the setting sun assumed a new appear- ance;, the air was more mild and warm, and during the night the wind became unequal and variable. From all these symptoms, Columbus was so confident of being near land, that on the evening of the eleventh of October, after public prayers for success, he ordered the sails to be furled, and the ships to lie to, keeping strict watch, lest they should be driven ashore in the night. During this interval of suspense and expectation, no man shut his eyes, all kept upon deck, gazing intently towards that quarter where they expected to discover the land, which had been so long the object of their wishes. About two hours before midnight, Columbus, standing on the forecastle, observed a hght at a distance, and privately pointed it out to Pedro Guttierez, a page of the Queen's wardrobe. Guttierez perceived it, and calling to Salcedo, comptroller of the fleet, all three saw it in motion, as if it were carried from place to place. A little after midnight the joyful sound of land! land! was heard Irom the Pinta, which kept always a head of the other ships. But, having been so often deceived by fallacious appearances, every man was now become slow of belief, and waited in all the anguish of uncertainty and impatience for the return of day. As soon as morning dawned [Oct. 12], all doubts and fears were dispelled. From every ship an island was seen about two leagues to the north, whose flat and verdant fields, well stored with wood, and watered with many rivulets, presented the aspect of a delightful country. The crew of the Pinta instantly began the Te Denm, as a hymn of thanksgiving to God, and were joined by those of the other ships, with tears of joy and transports of congi'atulation. This office of gratitude to Heaven was followed by an act of justice to their commander. They threw themselves at the feet of Columbus, with feelings of self- condemnation mingled with reverence. They implored him to pardon their ignorance, incredulity, and insolence, which had created him so much unnecessary disquiet, and had so often obstructed the prosecution of his well-concerted plan ; and passing, in the warmth of their admiration, from one extreme to another, they now pronounced the man, whom they had so lately reviled and threatened, to be a person inspired by Heaven wjth sagacity and fortitude more than human, in order to accomplish a design so far beyond the ideas and conception of all former ages. As soon as the sun arose, all their boats were manned and armed. They rowed towards the island with their colours displayed, with warlike music, and other martial pomp. As they approached the coast, they saw it covered with a multitude of people, whom the no\'elty of the spectacle had drawn together, whose attitudes and gestures expressed wonder and astonishment • Oviedo, Hist. ap. JRamusi, vol. iii. p. 81, B. 66 HISTORY OF [Book II at the strange objects which presented themselves to their view. Columbus was the first European who set foot in the New World which he had dis- covered. He landed in a rich dress, and with a naked sword in his hand. His men followed, and kneeling down, they all kissed the ground which they had so long desired to see. They next erected a crucifix, and prostrating themselves before it, returned thanks to God for conducting their voyage to such a happy issue. They then took solemn possession of the country, for the crown of Castile and Leon, with all the formalities which the Portuguese were accustonjed to observe in acts of this kind, in their new discoveries.* The Spaniards, while thus employed, were surrounded by many of the natives, who gazed in silent admiration upon actions which they could not comprehend, and of which they did not foresee the consequences. The dress of the Spaniards, the whiteness of their skins, their beards, their arms, appeared strange and surprising. The vast machines in which they had traversed the ocean, that seemed to move upon the waters with wings, and uttered a dreadful sound resembling thunder, accompanied with lightning and smoke, struck them with such terror, that they began to respect their new guests as a superior order of beings, and concluded that they were children of the Sun, who had descended to visit the earth. The Europeans were hardly less amazed at the scene now before them. Every herb, and shrub, and tree, was different from those which flourished in Europe. The soil seemed to be rich, but bore few marks of cultivation. The climate, even to the Spaniards, felt warm, though extremely delighttul. The inhabitants appeared in the simple innocence of nature, entirely naked. Their black hair, long and uncurled, floated upon their shoulders, or Avas bound in tresses around their heada. They had no beards, and eveiy part of their bodies was perfectly smooth. Their complexion was of a dusky- copper colour, their features singular, rather than disagreeable, their aspect gentle and timid. Though not tall, they were well shaped and active. Their faces, and several parts of their body, were fantastically painted with glaring colours. They were shy at first through fear, but soon became familiar with the Spaniards, and with transports of joy received from them hawksbells, glass beads, or other baubles, in return for which they gave such provisions as they had, and some cotton yarn, the only commodity of value that they could produce. Towards evening, Columbus returned to his ship, accompanied by many of the islanders in their boats, which they called canoes, and though rudely formed out of the trunk of a single tree, they rowed them with surprising dexterity. Thus, in the first interview between the inhabitants of the old and new worlds, every thing was con- ducted amicably, and to their mutual satisfaction. The former, enlightened and ambitious, formed already vast ideas with respect to the advantages which tlipy might derive from the regions that began to open to their view. The latter, simple and undiscerniiig, had no foresight of the calamities and desolation which were approaching their country. ^ Columbus, who now assumed tlie title and authority of admiral and viceroy, called the island which he had discovered Sa^i Salvador. It i? Detter known by the name of Guanaharu, which the natives gave to it, and is one of that large cluster of islands called the Lucaya or Bahama isles It i? situated above three thousand miles to the west of Gomera ; from which the squadron took its departure, and only four degrees to the south of it ; so little had Columbus deviated from the westerly course, which he had chosen as the most proper. Columbus employed the next day in visiting the coasts of the island ; and from the universal poverty of the inliahitanis, he perceived that this was not the rich country for which he sought. But, conformably to his theory * Life of Columbua, c 23, 23. Henera, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 23. AMERICA. 57 f oncerning- the discovery of those regions of Asia which stretched towards the east, he concluded that San Salvador was one of the isles which eeographers described as situated in the great ocean adjacent to India.* Having' observed that most of the people whom he had seen wore small plates of gold, by way of ornament, in their nostrils, he eagerly inquired where they got that precious metal. They pointed towards the south, and made him comprehend by signs, that gold abounded in countries situated in that quarter. Thither he inmiediately determined to direct his course, in full confidence of finding there those opulent regions which had been the object of his voyage, and would be a recompense for all his toils and dangers. He took along with him seven of the natives of San Salvador, that, by acquiring the Spanish language, they mi^ht serve as guides and interpreters ; and those innocent people considered it as a mark of distinction when they were selected to accompany him. He saw several islands, and touched at three of the largest, on which he bestowed the names of St. Maiy of the Conception, Fernandina, and Isabella. But, as their soil, productions, and inhabitants nearly resembled those of San Salvador, he made no stay in anj^ of them. He inquired every where for gold, and the signs that were uniformly made by way of answer, confirmed him in the opinion that it was brought from the south. He followed that course, and soon discovered a country which appeared very extensive, not perfectly level, like those wliich he nad already visited, but so diversified with rising grounds, hills, rivers, woods, and plains, that he was uncertain whether it might prove an island, or part of the continent. The natives of San Salvador, whom he had on board, called it Cuba; Columbus gave it the name of Juana. He entered the mouth of a large river with his squadron, and all the inhabitants fled to the mountains as he approached the shore. But as he resolved to careen the ships in that place, he sent some Spaniards, together with one of the people of San Salvador, to view the interior part of the country. They, having advanced above sixty miles from the shore, reported, upon their return, that the soil was richer and more cultivated than any they had hitherto discovered ; that, besides many scattered cottages, they had found one village, containing above a thousand inhabitants ; that the people, though naked, seemed to be more intelligent than those of San Salvador, but had treated them with the same respectful attention, kissing their feet, and honouring them as sacred beings allied to heaven ; that they had given them to eat a certain root, the taste of which resembled roasted chestnuts, and likewise a singular species of corn called maize, which, either when roasted whole or ground into meal, was abundantly palatable ; that there seemed to be no four-footed animals in the country, but a species of dogs, which could not bark, and a creature resembling a rabbit, but of a much smaller size ; that they had observed some ornaments of gold among the people, but of no great value, j These messengers had prevailed with some of the natives to accompany them, who informed Columbus, that the gold of which they made their ornaments was found in Cuhanacan. By this word they meant the middle or inland part of Cuba ; but Columbus, bein^ ignorant of their language, as well as unaccustomed to their pronunciation, and his thoughts running continually upon his own theory concerning the discovery of the East Indies, he was led, by the resemblance of sound, to suppose that they spoke of the great Khan, and imagined that the opulent kingdom of Cathay, described by Marco Polo, was not very remote. This induced him to employ some time in viewiiig the country. He visited almost every harbour, from Porto del Principe, on the north coast of Cuba, to the eastern extremity of the island : but, though delighted with the beauty of the scenes which every where presented themselves, and amazed at the luxuriant fertility of the •■ Pet. M?rl. rpfet. 135. t Life of Columbus, c. i24— 29. Hcircra, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 14. Vol I.— 8 68 HISTORY OF [Book 11. soil, both which, from their novelty, made a more livelj impression upon his imagination [14], he did not find gold in such quantity as was sufficient to satisfy either the avarice of his followers, or the expectations of the court to which he was to return. The people of the country, as much astonished at his eagerness in quest of gold as the Europeans were at their ignorance and simplicity, pointed towards the east, where an island which they called Hayti was situated, in which that metal was more abundant than among them. Columbus ordered his squadron to bend its course thither ; but Marton Alonso Pinzon, impatient to be the first who should take possession of the treasures which this country was supposed to contain, quitted his companions, regardless of all the admiral's signals to slacken sail until they should come up with him. Columbus, retarded by contrary winds, did not reach Hayti till the sixth of December. He called the port where he first touched St. Nicholas, and the island itself Espagnola, in honour of the kingdom by which he was employed ; and it is the only countiy, of those he had yet discovered, which has retained the name that he gave it. As he could neither meet with the Pinta, nor have any intercourse with the inhabitants, who fled in great consternation towards the woods, he soon quitted St. Nicholas, and, sailing along the northern coast of the island, he entered another harbour, which he called Conception. Here he was more fortunate ; his people overtook a woman who was flying from them, and after treating her with great gentle- ness, dismissed her with a present of such toys as they knew were most valued in those regions. The description which she gave to her countrymen of the humanity and wonderful qualities of the strangers ; their admiration of the trinkets, which she showed with exultation ; and their eagerness to participate of the same favours ; removed all their fears, and induced many of them to repair to the harbour. The strange objects which they beheld, and the baubles which Columbus bestowed upon them, amply gratified their curiosity and tlieir wishes. They nearly resembled the people of Guanahani and Cuba. They were naked like them, ignorant and simple ; and seemed to be equally unacqaainted with all the arts which appear most necessary in polished societies ; but they were gentle, credulous, and timid, to a degree which rendered it easy to acquire the ascendant over them, espe- cially as their excessive admiration led them into the same error with the people of the other islands, in believing the Spaniards to be more than mortals, and descended immediately from heaven. They possessed gold in greater abundance than their neighbours, which they readily exchanged for bells, beads, or pins ; and in this unequal traffic both parties were highly pleased, each considering themselves as gainers by the transaction. Here Columbus was visited by a prince or cazique of the country. He appeared with all the pomp known among a sim,ple people, being carried in a sort of palanquin upon the shoulders of four men, and attended by many of his subjects, who served him with great respect. His deportment was grave and stately, very reserved towards his own people, but with Columbus and the Spaniards extremely courteous. He gave the admiral some thin plates of gold, and a girdle of curious workmanship, receiving in return presents of small value, but highly acceptable to him.* Columbus, still intent on discovering the mines which yielded gold, continued to interrogate all the natives with whom he had any intercourse, concerning their situation. They concurred in pointing out a mountainous country, which they called Cibao, at some distance from the sea, and further towards the east. Struck with this sound, which appeared to him the same with Cipango, the name by which Marco Polo, and other travellers to the east, distinguished the island of Japan, he no longer doubted with respect to the vicinity of the countries which he had discovered to the remote parts * Life of Col\uDbuB, c. 33. Henera, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 15, &c X M ERIC A. 59 of Asia ; and, in full expectation of reaching soon those regions which had been the object of his voyage, he directed his course towards the east. He put into a commodious harbour, which he called St. Thomas, and found that district to be under the government of a powerful cazique, named Guacanahan, who, as he afterwards learned, was one of the five sovereigns among whom the whole island was divided. He immediately sent messen- gers to Columbus, who in his name delivered to him the present of a mask curiously fashioned with the ears, nose, and mouth of beaten gold, and invited him to the place of his residence, near the harbour now called Cape Francois, some leagues towards the east. Columbus despatched some of his orHcers to visit this prince, who, as he behaved himself with greater dignity, seemed to claim more attention. They returned with such favour- able accounts both of the country and of the people, as made Columbus impatient for that interview with Guacanahari to which he had been invited. He sailed for this purpose from St. Thomas, on the twenty-fourth of December, with a fair wind, and the sea perfectly calm ; and as, amidst the multiplicity of his occupations, he had not shut his eyes for two days, he retired at midnight in order to take some repose, haying committed the helm to the pilot, with strict injunctions not to quit it for a moment. The pilot, dreading no danger, carelessly left the helm to an unexperienced cabin bov, and the ship, carried away by a current, was dashed against a rock, "the violence of the shock awakened Columlous. He ran up to the deck. There all w^as confusion and despair. He alone retained presence of mind. He ordered some of the sailors to take a boat, and carry out an anchor astern; but, instead of obeying, they made ofi' towards the Nigna, which was about half a league distant. He then commanded the masts to be cut down, in order to lighten the ship ; but all his endeavours were too late; the vessel opened near the keel, and filled so fast with water that its loss was inevitable. The smoothness of the sea, and the timely assistance of boats from the Nigna, enabled the crew to save their lives. As soon as the islanders heard of tliis disaster, they crowded to the shore, with their prince Guacanahari at their head. Instead of taking advantage of the distress in which they beheld the Spaniards, to attempt any thing to their detriment, they lamented their misfortune with tears of sincere condolence. Not satisfied with this unavailing expression of their sympathy, they put tc sea a number of canoes, and, under the direction of the Spaniards, assisted in saving whatever could be got out of the wreck ; and, by the united labour of so many hands, almost ever}* thing of value was carried ashore. As fast as the goods were landed, Guacanahari in person took charge of them. By his orders they were all deposited in one place, and armed sentinels were posted, who kept the multitude at a distance, in order to prevent them not only from emi)ezzling, but from inspecting too curiously what belonged to their guests. [15] Next morning this prince visited Columbus, who was now on board the Nigna, and endeavoured to console him for his loss, by offering all that he possessed to repair it.* The condition of Columbus was such that he stood in need of consolation. He had hitherto procured no intelligence of the Pinta, and no longer doubted but that his treacherous associate had set sail for Europe, in order to have the merit of carrying the first tidings of the extraordinary discoveries which had been made, and to preoccupy so far the ear of their sovereign, as to rob him of the glory and reward to which he was justly entitled. There remained but one vessel, and that the smallest and most crazy of the squadron, to traverse such a vast ocean, and carry so many men back to Europe. Each of those circumstances was alarming, and filled the mind of Columbus with the utmost solicitude. The desire ot overtaking Pinzon, and of effacing the unfavourable impressions which his misrepresentations might make in * Herrera, dec. 1. lib. I. e. la 60 H I S T O R Y O F [Book II. Spain, made it necessary to return thither without delay. The difficulty ol taking such a number of persons on board the Nigna confirmed him in an opinion which the fertility of the country, and the gentle temper of the people, had already induced him to form. He resolved to leave a part of his crew in the island, that by residing there, they might learn the language of the natives, study their disposition, examine the nature of the country, search for mines, prepaie for the commodious settlement of the colony with which he purposed to return, and thus secure and facilitate the acquisition of those advantages which he expected from his discoveries. When he mentioned this to his men, all approved of the design ; and from impatience under the fatigue of a long voyage, from the levity natural to sailors, or from the hopesof amassing wealth in a country which afforded such promising specimens of its riches, many otfered voluntarily to be among the number of those who should remain. Nothing was now wanting towards the execution of this scheme, but to obtain the consent of Guacanahari; and iiis unsuspicious simplicity soon presented to the admiral a favourable opportunity of proposing it. Columbus having, in the best manner he could, by broken words and signs, expressed some curiosity to know the cause which had moved the islanders to Hy with such precipitation upon the approach of his ships, the cazique informed him that the country was much infested by the incursions of certain people, ■whom he called Carribeans, ^vho inhabited several islands to the south-east. These he described as a fierce and warlike race of men, who delighted in blood, and devoured the flesh of the prisoners who were so unhappy as to fall into their hands ; and as the Spaniards at their first appearance were supposed to be Carribeans, whom the natives, however numerous, durst not face in battle, they had recourse to their usual method of securing their safet}^, by flying into the thickest and most impenetrable woods. Guacanahari, while speaking of those dreadful invaders, discovered such symptoms of terror, as well as such consciousness of the inability of his own people to resist them, as led Columbus to conclude that he would not be alarmed at the proposition of any scheme which afforded him the prospect of an addi- tional security against their attacks. He instantly offered him the assistance of the Spaniards to repel his enemies : he engaged to take him and h;s people under the protection of the powerful monarch whom he served, and offered to leave in the island such a number of his men as should be suffi- cient, not only to defend the inhabitants from future incursions, but to avenge tfieir past wrongs. Tiie credulous prince closed eagerly with the proposal, and thought himself already safe under the patronage of beings sprung fiom heaven, and superior in power to mortal men. The ground was marked out lc V y . 68 HISTORY OF [Book II. the country. He sent a detachment, under the command of Alonzo de Ojeda, a vigilant and enterprising officer, to visit the district of Cibao, which viras said to yield the greatest quantity of gold, and followed him in person with the main body oi his troops. In this expedition he displayed all the pomp of military magnificence that he could exhibit, in order to strike the imagination of the natives. He marched with colours flying, with martial music, and with a small body of cavalry that paraded sometimes in the front and sometimes in the rear. As those were the first horses which appeared in the New World, they were objects of terror no less than of admiration to the Indians, who, having no tame animals themselves, were unacquainted with that vast accession of^ power which man hath acquired by subjecting them to his dominion. They supposed them to be rational creatures. They imagined that the horse and the rider formed one animal, with whose speed they were astonished, and whose impetuosity and strength they considered as irresistible. But while Columbus endeavoured to inspire the natives with a dread of his power, he did not neglect the arts of gaining their love and confidence. He adhered scrupulously to the principles of integrity and justice in all his transactions with them, and treated them, on every occasion, not only with humanity, but with indulgence. The district of Cibao answered the description given of it by the natives. It was mountainous and uncuUivated, but in every river and brook gold was gathered either in dust or in grains, some of which were of considerable size. The Indians had never opened any mines in search of gold. To penetrate into the bowels of the earth, and to refine the rude ore, were operations too complicated and laborious for their talents and industry, and they had no such high value for gold as to put their ingenuity and mvention upon the stretch in order to obtain it.* The small quantity of that precious metal which they possessed, was either picked up in the beds of the rivers, or washed from the mountains by the heavy rains that fall within the tropics. But from those indications, the Spaniards could no longer doubt that the country contained rich treasures in its bowels, of which they hoped soon to be masters.! In order to secure the command of this valuable province, Columbus erected a small fort, to which he gave the name of St. Thomas, by Avay of ridicule upon some of his incredulous followers, who would not believe that the country produced gold, until they saw it with their own eyes, and touched it with their hands.| The account of those promising appearances of wealth in the country of Cibao came very seasonably to comfort the desponding colony, which was affected with distresses of various kinds. The stock of provisions which had been brought from Europe was mostly consumed ; what remained was so nuich corrupted by the heat and m.oisture of the climate as to be almost unfit for use ; the natives cultivated so small a portion of ground, and with so little skill, that it hardly yielded what was sufficient for their own sub- sistence ; the Spaniards at Isabella had hitherto neither time nor leisure to clear the soil, so as to reap any considerable fruits of their own industry. On all these accounts, they became afraid of perishing with hunger, and were reduced already to a scanty allowance. At the same time, the diseases predominant in the torrid zone, and which rage chiefly in those uncultivated countries where the hand of industry has not opened the woods, drained the marshes, and confined the rivers within a certain channel, began to spread among them. Alarmed at the violence and unusual symptoms of those maladies, they exclaimed against Columbus and his companions in the former voyage, who, by their splendid but deceitful descriptions of Hispa- niola, had allured them to quit Spain for a barbarous uncultivated land, where they must either be cut off by famine, or die of unknown distempers. * Oviedo, lib. i\. p. 90. A. t P- Martyr, dec. p. 33. t Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 12. Life of Columbae, c. 32. AMERICA. 69 Several of the oflBcers and persons of note, instead of checking, joined in those seditious complaints. Father Boyi, the apostolical vicar, was one of the most turbulent and outrageous. It required all the authority and address of Columbus to re-establish subordination and tranquillity in the colony. Threats and promises were alternately employed for this purpose ; but nothing contributed more to soothe the malecontents than the prospect of finding, in the mines of Cibao, such a rich store of treasure as would be a recompense for all their suS'erings, and efface the memory of former disappointments. When, by his unwearied endeavours, concord and order vi^ere so far restored that he could venture to leave the island, Columbus resolved to pursue his discoveries, that he might be able to ascertain whether those new countries with which he had opened a communication were connected with any region of the earth already known, or whether they were to be con- sidered as a separate portion of the globe hitherto unvisited. He appointed his brother Don Diego, with the assistance of a council of officers, to govern the island in his absence ; and gave the command of a body of soldiers to Don Pedro Margarita, with which he was to visit the different parts of the island, and endeavour to establish the authority of the Spaniards among the inliabitants. Having left them very particular instructions with respoct to their conduct, he weighed anchor on the 24th of April, with one ship and tvvo small barks under his command. During a tedious voyage of full five months, he had a trial of almost all the numerous hardships to which persons of his profession are exposed, without making any discovery ol importance, except the island of Jamaica. As he ranged along the southern coast of Cuba [l9],he was entangled in a labyrinth formed by an incredible number of small islands, to which he gave the name of the Queen's Garden. In this unknown course, among rocks and shelves, he was retarded by con- trary winds, assaulted with furious storms, and alarmed with the terrible thunder and lightning which is often almost incessant between the tropics. At length his provisions fell short ; his crew, exhausted with fatigue as well as hunger, murmured and threatened, and were ready to proceed to the most desperate extremities against him. Beset with danger in such various forms, he was obliged to keep continual watch, to observe every occurrence with his own eyes, to issue every order, and to superintend the execution of it. On no occasion was the extent of his skill and experience as a navigator so much tried. To these the squadron owed its safety. But this unremitted fatigue of body, and intense application of mind, overpowering his consti- tution, though naturally vigorous and robust, brought on a feverish disorder, which terminated in a lethargy, that deprived him of sense and memoiy, and had almost proved fatal to his life.* But, on his return to Hispaniola [Sept. 27], the sudden emotion of joy which he felt upon meeting with his brother Bartholomew at Isabella, occasioned such a flow of spirits as contributed greatly to his recovery. It was now thirteen years since the two brothers, whom similarity of talents united in close friendship, had separated from each other, and during that long period there had been no intercourse between them. Bartholomew, after hnishing his negotiation in the court of England, had set out for Spain hj the way of France. At Paris he received an account of the extraordinary discoveries which his brother had made in his first voyage, and that he was then preparing to embark on a second expedition. I'hough this naturally induced him to pursue his Journey with the utmost despatch, the admiral had sailed for Hispaniola before he reached Spain. Ferdinand and Isabella received him with the respect due to the nearest kinsman of a person whose merit and services rendered him so conspicuous ; and as they knew what consolation his presence would afford to his brother, they persuaded him to ♦ Life of Columbus, c. 54, &c. Her:era, dee. 1. lib. li. c. 13, 14 P. Martyr, dec. I. p. 34, tto. 70 HISTORYOF [Book II. take the command of three ships, which they had appointed to carry provisions to the colony at Isabella.* He could not have arrived at any juncture when Columbus stood more in need of a friend capable of assisting- him with his counsels, or of dividing with him the cares and burdens of government, r'or although the provisions now brought from Europe afforded a temporary relief to the Spaniards from the calamities of famine, the supply was not in such quantity as to support them long, and the island did not hitherto yield what was sufficient for their sustenance. They were threatened with another dangei, still more formida- ble than the return of scarcity, and which demanded more immediate attention. No sooner did Columbus leave the island on his voyage ol discovery, than the soldiers under Margarita, as if they had been set free from discipline and subordination, scorned all restraint. Instead ol con- forming to the prudent instructions of Columbus, they dispersed in straggling parties over the island, lived at discretion upon the natives, wasted their provisions, seized their women, and treated that inoffensive race with all the insolence of militar}' oppression.f As long as the Indians had any prospect that their sufferings might come to a period by the voluntary departure of the invaders, they submitted in silence, and dissembled their sorrow ; but they now perceived that the yoke would be as permanent as it was intolerable. The Spaniards had built a town, and surrounded it with ramparts. They haderected forts in different places. They had enclosed and sown several fields. It was apparent that they came not to visit the country, but to settle in it. Though the number of those strangers was inconsiderable, the state of cultivation among these rude people was so imperfect, and in such exact proportion to their own consumption, that it was with difficulty they could afford subsistence to their new guests. Their own mode of life was so indolent and inactive, the warmth of the climate so enervating, the constitution of their bodies naturally so feeble, and so unaccustomed to the laborious exertions oi industry, that they were satisfied with a proportion of food amazingly small. A handtul of maize, or a little of the insipid bread made of the cassada- root, was sufficient to support men whose strength and spirits were not exhausted by any vigorous efforts either of body or mind. The Spaniards, though the most abstemious of all the European nations, appeared to them excessively voracious. One Spaniard consumed as much as several Indians. This keenness of appetite surprised them so much, and seemed to be so insatiable, that they supposed the Spaniards had left their own country because it did not produce as much as was requisite to gratily their immo- derate desire of food, and had come among them in quest of nourishment. J Self-preservation prompted them to wish for the departure of guests v\ho wasted so fast their slender stock of provisions. The injuries which they suffered added to their impatience for this event. They had long expected that the Spaniards would retire of their own accord. They now perceived that, in order to avert the destruction with which they were threatened, either by the slow consumption of famine, or by the violence of their oppressors, it was necessary to assume courage, to attack those formidable invaders Avith united tbrce, and drive them from the settlements of which they had violently taken possession. Such were the sentiments which universally prevailed among the Indians, when Columbus returned to Isabella. Inflamed, by the unprovoked out- rages of the Spaniards, with a degree of rage of which their gentle natures, formed to suffer and submit, seemed hardly susceptible, they waited only for a signal from their leaders to fail upon the colony. Some of the caziques had already surprised and cut off several stragglers. The dread of this impending danger united the Spaniards, and re-established the • H«rrera, dec. J. lib. ii. 6, 13. t P Martyr, drc. p. 47. } Herrera, dee. U lib. U. c. IT. AMERICA. 71 authority of Columbus, as they saw no prospect of safety but in committing themselves to his prudent guidance. It was now necessaiy to have recourse to arms, the employing of which against the Indians Columbus had hitherto avoided with the greatest solicitude. Unequal as the conflict may seem, between the naked inhabitants of the New World armed with clubs, slicks hardened in tlie fire, wooden swords, and arrows pointed with bones or flints, and troops accustomed to the discipline, and provided with the instruments of destruction known in the European art of war, the situation of the Spaniards was far from being exempt from danger. The vast sup(;riority of the natives in number compensated many defects. A handful of men was about to encounter a whole nation. One adverse event, or even any unforeseen delay in determining the fate of the war, might prove fatal to the Spaniards Conscious that success depended on the vigour and rapidity of his operations, Columbus instantly assembled his forces. They were reduced to a verj' small number. Diseases, engendered by the warmth and h-miidity of the country, or occasioned by their own licentiousness, had rager* among them with much violence ; experience had not yet taught them the ^c either of curing thes.e, or the precautions requisite for guarding against the'ri , two-thirds of the original adventurers were dead, and many of tho't who survived weie incapable of service.* The body Avhich took thf: iicld [March 24, 1405 1 consisted only of two hundred foot, twenty hoise, and twenty laig'e dogs; and how strange soever it may seem to mention the last as comprfing part of a military force, they were not perhaps the least formidable arid destructive of the whole, when employed against naked and timid Indians. All the caziques of the island, Guacanahari excepted, who retained an inviolable attachment to the Spaniards, were in arms to oppose Cclariibas, with forces amounting, if we may believe the Spanish historians, t-j a hundred thousand men. Instead of attempting to draw the Spaniards into vhe fastnesses of the woods and mountains, they were so imprudent a-j to take their station in the Vega Real, the most open plain in the cciir.try. Columbus did not allow them time to perceive their error, or to alter their position. He attacked them during the night, when undisciplined tri>op3 are least capable of acting with union and concert, and obtained an easy f.nJ bloodless victor}'. The consternation with which the Indians were filled by the noise and havoc made by the fire arms, by the impetuous force of the cavalry, and the fierce onset of the dogs was so great, that they threw down their weapons, and fled without attempting resistance. Many were slain ; more were taken prisoners, and reduced to servitude [9.0] ; and so thoroughly were the rest intimidated, that from that moment tb'jy abandoned themselves to despair, relinquishing all thoughts of coiiiendirjg with aggressors whom they deemed invincible. Columbus employed several months in marching through the island, and in subjecliiig it to the Spanish government, without meeting with any opposition. He imposed a tribute upon all the inhabitants above the age of fourteen. Each person who lived in those districts where gold was found, was obliged to pay quarterly as much gold dust as filled a hawk's bell ; from those in other parts of the countrj-, twenty-five pounds of cotton were demanded. This was the first regular taxation of the Indians, and served as a precedent for exactions still more intolerable. Such an imposition was extremely contrary to those maxims which Columbus had hitherto inculcated with respect to the mode of treating them. But intrigues were carrying en in the court of Spain at this juncture, in order to undermine his power, and discredit his operations, which constrained him to depart from his own system of administration. Several unfavourable accounts of his conduct, as well as of the countries discovered by him, had been transmitted to Spain. Margarita and Father Boyl were now at court, and in order to justify their • LUe of ColumboB, c 01. 72 HISTORY OF [Book II. own conduct, or to gratify their resentment, watched with malevolent attention for every opportunity of spreading insinuations to his detriment. Many of the courtiers viewed his grooving- reputation and power with envious eyes. Fonseca, archdeacon of Seville, who was intrusted with the chief direction of Indian affairs, had conceived such an unfavourable opinion of Columbus, for some reason which the contemporary writers have not mentioned, that he listened with partiality to every invective against him. It was not easy for an unfriended stranger, unpractised in courtly arts, to counteract the machinations of so many enemies. Columbus saw that there was but one method of supporting his own credit, and of silencing all his adversaries. He must produce such a quantity of gold as would not only justify what he had reported with respect to the richness of the country, but encourage Ferdinand and Isabella to persevere in ijrosecuting his plans. The necessity of obtaining it forced him not only to impose this heavy tax upon the Indians, but to exact payment of it with extreme rigour ; and may be pleaded in excuse for his deviating on this occasion from the mildness and humanity with which he uniformly treated that unhappy people.* The labour, attention, and foresight which the Indians were obliged to employ in procuring the tribute demanded of them, appeared the most intolerable of all evils, to men accustomed to pass their days in a careless improvident indolence. They were incapable of such a regular and persevering exertion of industry, and felt it such a grievous restraint upoQ tlieir liberty, that they had recourse to an expedient for obtaining deliverance from this yoke, which demonstrates the excess of their impatience and despair. They formed a scheme of starving those oppressors whom they durst not attempt to expel ; and from the opinion which they entertained with respect to the voracious appetite of the Spaniards, they concluded the execution of it to be very practicable. With this view they suspended all the operations of agriculture ; they sowed no maize, they pulled up the roots of the manioc or cassada which were planted, and, retiring to the most inaccessible parts of the mountains, left the uncultivated plains to their enemies. This desperate resolution produced in some degree the effects which they expected. The Spaniards were reduced to extreme want ; but they received sucb seasonable supplies of provisions from Europe, and found so many resources in their own ingenuity and industry, that they suffered no great loss of men. The wretched Indians were the victims of their own ill-concerted policy. A great multitude of people, shut up in the mountainous or wooded part of the country, without any food but the spon- taneous productions of the earth, soon felt the utmost distresses of famine. This brought on contagious diseases ; and in the course of a few months more than a third part of the inhabitants of tlie island perished, after experiencing misery in all its various forms. f But while Columbus was establishing the foundations of the Spanish grandeur in the New World, his enemies laboured with unwearied assiduity to deprive him of the glory and rewards which, by his services and sufferings, he was entitled to enjoy. The hardships unavoidable in a new settlement, the calamities occasioned by an unhealthy climate, the disasters attending a voyage in unknown seas, were all represented as the effects of his restless and inconsiderate ambition. His prudent attention to preserve discipline and subordination was denominated excess of rigour; the punishments which he inflicted upon the mutinous and disorderly were imputed to cruelty. These accusations gained such credit in a jealous court, that a commissioner was appointed to repair to Hispaniola, and to inspect into the conduct of Columbus. By the recommendation of his enemies, Aguado, a groom of the bedchamoer, was the person to whona * Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 17. t Herreia, dec. 1. lib. xi. c. 18. Life of ColumbUB, c. 61 Oviedo, lib. iii. p. S3. D. Benzou Hist. Novi Orbis, lib. i, c. 9. P. Martyr, dec. p. 48. AMERICA. 73 ihis important trust was committed. But in this choice they seem to have been more influenced by the obsequious attachment of the man to their interest, than by his capacity for the station. Puffed up with such sudden elevation, Aguado displayed, in the exercise of this office, all the Irivolous self-importance, and acted with all the disgusting insolence which are natural to little minds, when raised to unexpected dignity, or employed in functions to which they are not equal. By listening with eagerness to every accusa- tion against Columbus, and encouraging not only the malecontent Spaniards, but even the Indians, to produce their grievances, real or imaginaiy, he fomented the spirit of dissension in the island, without establishing any regulations of pubiic utility, or that tended to redress the many wrongs, with tne odium of which he wished to load the admiral's administration. As Columbus felt sensibly how humiliating his situation must be, if he should remain in the country while such a partial inspector observed his motions auvi controlled his jurisdiction, he took the resolution of returning to Spain, in order to lay a full account of all his transactions, particularly with respect to the poinis in dispute between him and his adversaries, before Ferdinand and Isabella, from whose justice and discernment he expected an equal and a favourable decision [1496]. He committed the administration of^ affairs, during his absence, to Don Bartholomew, his brother, with the title of Adelantado, or Lieutenant-Governor. By a choice less fortunate, and which proved the source of many calamities to the colony, he appointed Francis Roldan chief justice, with veiy extensive powers.* In returning to Europe, Columbus held a course different from that wliich he had taken in his former voyage. He steered almost due east from Hispaniola, in the parallel of twenty-two degrees of latitude ; as experience had not yet discovered the more certain and expeditious method of stretching to the north, in order to fall in with the south-west winds. By this ill advised choice, which, in the ii;fancy of navigation between the New and Old Worlds, can hardly be imputed to the admiral as a defect in naval skill, he was exposed to infinite fatigue and danger, in a perpetual struggle with the trade winds, which blow without variation from the east between the tropics. Notwithstanding the almost insuperable difficulties of such a navigation, he persisted in his course with his usual patience and firmness, but made so little way that he was three months without seeing land. At length his provisions began to fail, the crew was reduced to the scanty allowance of six ounces of bread a day for each person. The admiral fared no better than the meanest sailor. But, even in this extreme distress, he retained the humanity which distinguishes his character, and refused to comply with the earnest solicitations of his crew, some of whom proposed to feed upon the Indian prisoners whom they were carrying over, and others insisted to throw them overboard, in order to lessen the consumption of their small stock. He represented that they were human beings, reduced by a common calamity to the same condition with themselves, and entitled to share an equal fate. His authority and remonstrances dissipated those wild ideas suggested by despair. Nor had they time to recur ; as he came soon within sight of the coast of Spain, when all their fears and sufferings ended.! Columbus appeared at court with the modest but determined confidence of a man conscious not only of integrity, but of having performed great services. Ferdinand and Isabella, ashamed of their own facility in lending' too favourable an ear to frivolous or unfounded accusations, received him with such distinguished marks of respect as covered his enemies with shame. Their censures and calumnies were no more heard of at that juncture. The gold, the pearls, the cotton, and other commodities of value • Herrera, dec. 1. \ib. ii, c. 18. lib. iU. c. 1. t Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 1. Life of Columbus, c. 64. Vol. I.— 10 74 HISTORY OF [Book 11. •vvhich Columbus produced, seemed fully to refute what the malecontents had propagated with respect to the poverty of the country. By reducing the Indians to obedience, and imposing a regular tax upon them, he had secured to Spain a large accession of new subjects, and the establishment of a revetiue that promised to be considerable. By the mines vvhich he had found out and examined, a source of wealth still move copious was opened. Great and unexpected as (hose advantages were, Columbus represented them only as preludes to future acquisitions, and as the earnest of more important discoveries, which he still meditated, and to which those he had already made would conduct him with ease and certainty.* Tlie attentive consideration of all these circumstances made such an impression, not only upon Isabella, who was flattered with the idea of being the patroness of all Columbus's enterprises, but even upon Ferdinand, who having originally expressed his disapprobation of his schemes, was still apt to doubt of their success, that they resolved to supply the colony of Hispaniola with every thing which could render it a permanent establish- ment, and to furnish Columbus with such a fleet, that he might proceed to search for those new countries of whose existence he seemed to be confident. The measures most proper for accomplishing both these designs were concerted with Columbus. Discovery had been the sole object of the first voyage to the New World ; and though, in the second, settlement had been proposed, the precautions taken for tnat purpose had either been insuffi- cient, or were rendered ineffectual by the mutinous spirit of the Spaniards, and the unforeseen calamities arising from various causes. Now a plan was to be formed of a regular colony, that might serve as a model in all future establishments. Every particular was considered with attention, and the whole arranged with a scrupulous accuracy. The precise number of adventurers who should be permitted to embark was fixed. They were to be of different ranks and professions, and the proportion of each was established according to their usefulness and the wants of the colony. A suitable number of women were to be chosen to accompnny these new settlers. As it was the first object to raise provisions in a country where scarcity of food had been the occasion of so much distress, a considerable body of husbandmen was to be carried over. As the Spaniards had then no conception of deriving any benefit from those productions of the New World which have since yielded such large returns of wealth to Europe, but had formed magnificent ideas, and entertained sanguine hopes with respect to the riches contained in the mines which had been discovered, a band of workmen, skilled in the various arts employed in digging and refining the precious metals, was provided. All these emigrants were to receive pay and subsistence for sonie years, at the public expense. f Thus far the regulations were prudent, and Avell adapted to the end in view. But as it was foreseen that few would engage voluntarily to settle in a country whose noxious climate had been fatal to so many of their countrymen, Columbus proposed to transport to Hispaniola such malefactors as had been convicted of crimes which, though capital, were of a less atrocious nature ; and that for the future a certain proportion of the offenders usually sent to the galleys, should be condemned to labour in the mines which were to be opened. This advice, given without due reflection, was as inconsiderately adopted. The prisons of Spain were drained, in order to collect members for the intended colony ; and the judges empowered to try criminals were instructed to recruit it by their future sentences. It was not, however, with such materials that the foundations of a society, destined to be permanent, should be laid. Industry, sobriety, patience, and mutual confidence, are indispensably requisite in an infant settlement, where purity of morals must contribute more towards establishing order than the operation * Life of CoIurabuB, c. 65. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 1. t Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. % AMERICA. 75 or authority of laws. But ■when such a mixture of what is comjpt is admitted into the original constitution of the political body, the vices of those unsound and incurable members will probably infect the whole, and must certainly be productive of violent and unhappy effects. This the Spaniards fatally experienced^ and the other European nations having successively imitated the practice of Spain in this particular, pernicious consequences have followed in their settlements, which can be imputed to no other cause.* Though Columbus obtained, with great facility and despatch, the royal approbation of every measure and regulation that he proposed, his endeavours to carry them into execution were so long retarded, as must have tired out the patience of any man less accustomed to encounter and to surmount difficulties. Those delays were occasioned partly by that tedious formality and spirit of procrastination, with which the Spaniards conduct business, and partly by the exhausted state of the treasury, which was drained by the expense of celebrating the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella's only son with Margaret of Austria, and that of Jv^.-^nna, their second daughter, with Philip Archduke of Austria ;t but must be ci.'^fly imputed to the malicious arts of Columbus's enemies. Astonished at tnc reception which he met with upon his return, and overawed by his preseiu^e, they gave_ way, for some time, to a tide of favour too strong for them to opp>,;se. Their enmity, however, was too inveterate to remain long inactive. They resumed their operations ; and by the assistance of Fonseca, the minister for Indian affairs, who was now promoted to the bishopric of Badajos, they threw in so many obstacles to protract the preparations for Columbus's expedition, that a year elapsedj before he could procure two ships to carry over a part oi the supplies destined for the colony, and almost two years were spent before the small squadron was equipped, of which he himself was to take the com.mand.S 1498.] This squadron consisted of six ships only, of no great burden, and but indifferently provided for a long or dangerous navigation. The voyage which he now meditated was in a course different from any he had under taken. As he was fully persuaded that the fertile regions of India lay to the south-west of those countries which he had discovered, he proposed, as the most certain method of finding out these, to stand directly south from the Canary or Cape de Verd islands, until he came under the equinoctial line, and then to stretch to the west before the favourable wind for such a course, ■which blows invariably between the tropics. With this idea he set sail [May 30], and touched first at the Canary, and then at the Cape de V^erd islands [July 4]. From the former he despatched three of his ships with a supply of provisions for the colony in Hispaniola ; with the other three, he continued his voyage towards the south. No remarkable occurrence happened until they arrived within five degrees of the line [iuly 19]. There they were becalmed, and at the same time the heat became so excessive that many of their wine casks burst, the liquors in others soured, and their provisions corrupted.il The Spaniards, who had never ventured so far to the south, were atraid that the ships would take fire, and began to apprehend the reality of what the ancients had taught concerning the destructive qualities of that torritl region of the globe. They were relieved, in some measure, from their lears by a seasonable fall of rain. This, however, though so heavy and unintermitting that the men could hardly keep the deck, did not greatly mitigate the intenseness of the heat. The admiral, who with his usual vigilance had in person directed every operation from the beginning of the voyage, was so much exhausted bj ♦ Herrera, dec. 1. lib. !ii. c. 2. Touron Hi^t. Gener. de rAmerique, I. p. 51. t P- Mart) epiet 168. i Lite of Columbus, c. C5. ( Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c 9, |1 F. Maitv 4eo. p. 70. 76 HISTORY OF [Book II. fatigue and want of sleep, that it brought on a violent fit of the gout, accompanied with a fever. All these circumstances constrained him to yield to the importunities of his crew, and to alter his course to the north- west, in order to reach some of the Caribbee islands, where he might refit, and be supplied with provisions. On the first of August, the man stationed in the round top surprised them with the joyful cry of Land! They stood toward it, and discovered a considerable island, which the admiral called Trinidad, a name it still retains. It lies on the coast of Guiana, near the mouth of the Orinoco. This, though a river only of the third or fourth magnitude in the New World, far surpasses any of the streams in our hemisphere. It rolls towards the ocean such a vast body of water, and rushes into it with such impetuous force, that when it meets the tide, which on that coast rises to an uncommon height, their collision occasions a swell and agitation of the waves no less surprising than formidable. In this conflict, the irresistible toiTent of the river so far prevails, that it freshens the ocean many leagues with its flood.* Columbus, before he could conceive the danger, was entangled among those adverse currents and tempestuous waves, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he escaped through a narrow strait, which appeared so tremendous that he called it La Boca del Drago. As soon as the conster- nationwhich this occasioned permitted him toreflect upon the nature of an appearance so extraordinary, he discerned in it a source of comfort and hope. He justly concluded that such a vast body of water as this river con- tained, could not be supplied by any island, but must flow through a countiy of iinmense extent, and of consequence that he was now arrived at that continent which it had long been the object of his wishes to discover. Full of this idea, he stood to the west along the coast of those provinces which are now known by the names of Paria and Cumana. He landed in several places, and had some intercourse with the people, who resembled those of Hispaniola in their appearance and manner of life. They wore, as ornaments, small plates of gold, and pearls of considerable value, which they willingly exchanged for European toys. Thej' seemed to possess a better understanding and greater courage than the inhabitants of the islands. The country produced four-footed animals of several kinds, as well as a great variety of fowls and fruits.t The admiral was so much delighted with its beauty and fertility, that, with the warm enthusiasm of a discoverer, he imagined it to be the Paradise described in Scripture, which the Almighty chose tor the residence of man Avhile he retained innocence that rendered him worthy of such a habitation. J [21] Thus Columbus had the glory not only of discovering to mankind the existence of a new World, but made considerable progress towards a perfect knowledge of it ; and was the first man who conducted the Spaniards to that vast continent which has been the chief seat of their empire, and the source of their treasures in this quarter of the globe. The shattered condition of his ships, scarcity of provisions, his own infirmities, together with the impatience of his crew, prevented him from pursuing his discoveries any further, and made it necessary to bear away for Hispaniola. In his way thither he discovered the islands ot Cubngua and Mai-garita, which afterwards became remarkable for their pearl-fishery. When he arrived at Hispaniola [Aug. 30], he was wasted to an extreme degree, with fatigue and sickness ; but found the affairs oi the colony in such a situation as afforded hiin no prospect of enjoying that repose of*^ which he stood so much in need. Many revolutions had happened in that countiy duiing his absence. His brother, the adelantado, in consequence of an advice which the admiral gave before his departure, had removed the colony from Isabella to a more * Gumilla Hist, de I'Orenoque, torn. i. p. 14. T Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 9—11. Life of Columbus, c. Oti— 73. % HeiTera, dec. 1. lib. iii, c. 12. Gomara, c. 84. AMERICA. 77 commodious station, on the opposite side of the island, and laid the foundation of St. Domingo,* which was long the most considerable European town in the New World, and the seatol the supreme courts in the Spanish dominions there. As soon as the Spaniards were established in this new settlement, the adelantado, that they might neither languish in inactivity, nor have leisure to form new cabals, marched into those parts of the island which his brother had not yet visited or reduced to obedience. As the people were unable to resist, they submitted every where to the tribute which he im- posed. But they soon tbund the burden to be so intolerable that, overawed as they were by the superior power of their oppressors, they took arms against them. Those insurrections, however, were not formidable. A conflict with timid and naked Indians was neither dangerous nor of doubtful issue. But while the adelantado was employed against them in the field, a mutiny of an aspect far more alarming broke out among the Spaniards. The ringleader of it was Francis Roldan, whom Columbus had placed in a station which required him to be the guardian of order and tranq-uillity in the colony. A turbulent and inconsiderate ambition precipitated him into this desperate measure, so unbecoming his rank. The arguments which he employed to seduce his countrymen were frivolous and ill founded. He accused Columbus and his two brothers of aiTogance and severity ; he pretended that they aimed at establishing an independent dominion in the country ; he taxed them with an intention of cutting off part of tlie Spaniards by hunger and fatigue, that they might more easily reduce the remainder to subjection ; he represented it as unworthy of Castilians, to remain the tame and passive slaves of these Genoese adventurers. As men have always a propensity to impute the hardships of which they feel the pressure to the misconduct of their rulers ; as every nation views with a jealous eye the power and exaltation of foreigners, Roldan's insinuations made a deep impression on his countrymen. His character and rank added weight to them. A considerable number of the Spaniards made choice of him as their leader ; and, taking arms against the adelantado and his brother, seized the king's magazine of provisions, and endeavoured to surprise the fort at St. Domingo. This was preserved by the vigilance and courage of Don Diego Columbus. The mutineers were obliged to retire to the province of Xaragua, where they continued not only to disclaim the adelantado's authority themselves, but excited the Indians to throw off the yoke.j Such was the distracted state of the colony when Columbus landed at St. Domingo. He was astonished to find that the three ships which he had despatched from the Canaries were not yet arrived. By the unskilfulness of the pilots, and the violence of currents, they had been carried a hundred and sixty miles to the west of St. Domingo, and forced to take shelter in a harbour of the province of Xaragua, where Roldan and his seditious followers were cantoned. Roldan carefully concealed from the commanders of the ships his insurrection against the adelantado, and, employing his utmost address to gain their confidence, persuaded them to set on shore a considerable part of the new settlers whom they brought over, that they might proceed by land to St. Domingo. It required but kw arguments to prevail with those men to espouse his cause. They were the refuse of the jails of Spain, to whom idleness, licentiousness, and deeds of violence were familiar ; and they returned eagerly to a course of life nearly resembling that to which they had been accustomed. The commanders of the ships perceiving, when it was too late, their imprudence in disembarking so many of their men, stood away for St. Domingo, and got safe into the port a few * P. Martyr, dec. p. 56. t Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. &— 8. Life of Columbue, c, 74—77. Column, c. 23. p. Martyr, p. 78. 78 HISTORY OF [Book II. days after the admiral ; but their stock of provisions was so wasted during a voyage of such Jong continuance that they brought little relief to the colony.^ By this junction with a band of such bold and desperate associates, Roldan became extremely formidable, and no less extravagant in his demands. Columbus, though filled with resentment at his ingratitude, and highly exasperated by the insolence of his tbilovvers, made no haste to take the field. He trembled at the thoughts of kindling the flames of a civil war, in which, whatever party prevailed, the power and strength of both must be so much wasted as might encourage the common enemy to unite and complete their destruction. At the same time, he observed, that the prejudices and passions which incited the rebels to take arms, had so I'ar inlecled those who still adhered to him, that many of them were adverse, and all cold to the service. From such sentin^.ents, with respect to the public interest, as well as from this view of his o^vn situation, he chose to negotiate rather than to tight. By a seasonable proclamation, oflering free pardon to such as should merit it by returning to their duty, he made impression upon some of the malecontents. By engaging to grant such as should desire it the liberty of returning to Spain, he allured all those unfor- tunate adventurers, who, from sickness and disappointment, were disgusted with the country. By promising to re-establish Koldan in his former othce, ne soothed his pride ; and, by complying with most of his demands in behalt' of his followers, he satisfied their avarice. Thus, gi-adually and without bloodshed, but alter many tedious negotiations, he dissolved this dangerous combination, which threatened the colony with ruin ; and restored the appearance of order, regular government, and tranquillity.t In consequence of this agreement with the mutineers, lands were allotted them in ditterent parts of the island, and the Indians settled in each district were appointed to cultivate a certain portion of ground tor the use of those new masters [1499]. The performance of this work was substituted in place of the tribute formerly imposed ; and how necessary soever such a regulation might be in a sickly and feeble colony, it introduced among the Spaniards the Repartiinientos, or distributions of Indians estabhshed by them in all their settlements, which brought numberless calamities upon that unhappy people, and subjected them to the most grievous oppession.| This was not the only bad effect of the insurrection in Hispaniola ; it prevented Columbus from prosecuting his discoveries on the continent, as self-pre- servation obliged hiin to keep near his person his brother the adelantado, and the sailors whom he intended to have employed in that service. As soon as his affairs would permit, he sent some of his ships to Spain with a journal of the voyage \vhich he had made, a description of the new countries which he had discovered, a chart of the coast along which he had sailed, and specimens of the gold, the pearls, and other curious or valuable pro- ductions which he had acquired by trafficking with the natives. At the same time he transmitted an account of the insurrection in Hispaniola ; he accused the mutineers not only of having thrown the colony into such violent convulsions as threatened its dissolution, but of having obstructed every attempt towards discoveiy and improvement, by their unprovoked rebellion against their superiors, and proposed several regulations for the better government of the island, as well as the extinction of that mutinous spirit, which, though suppressed at present, might soon burst out with additional rage. Koldan and his associates did not neglect to convey to Spain, by the same ships, an apology for their own conduct, together with their recrimi- nations upon the admiral and his brothers. Unfortunately for the honour of * Hcirera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 12. Life of Columbus, c. 78, 70. t Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iii. C. 13, 14. Ui'e 01 Columbus, c. 80. &c. ; Hcrtura, dec. 1. lib. iii. c. 14, ^c. A M ERIC \^ 79 Spain and the happiness of Columbus, the latter gained most credit in the court of Ferdinand and Isabella, and produced unexpected effects.* But, previous to the relating of these, it is proper to take a view of some events, which merit attention,l)oth on account of their own importance, and their connection with the history of the New World. While Columbus was engaged in his successive voyages to the west, the spirit of discovery did not languish in Portugal, the kingdom where it tirst acquired vigour- and became enterprising. Selt-condenmation and neglect were not the only sentiments to which the success of Columbus, and reflection upon their own imprudence in rejecting his proposals, gave rise among the Portuguese. They excited a general emulation to surpass his performances, and an ardent desire to make some reparation to their country for their own error. With this view, Emanuel, who inherited the enterprising genius of his predecessors, persisted in their grand scheme of opening a passage to the East Indies by the Cape of Good Hope, and soon after his accession to the throne equipped a squadron for that important voyage. He gave the command of it to Vasco de Gama, a man of noble birth, possessed of virtue, prudence, and courage, equal to the station. The squadron, like all those fitted out tor discovery in the infancy of navigation, was extremely feeble, consisting only of three vessels, of neither burden nor force adequate to the service. As the Europeans were at that lime little acquainted with the course of the trade- winds and perioviical monsoons, which render navigation in the Atlantic ocean as well as in the sea that separates Africa from India, at some seasons easy, and at others not only dangerous but almost impracticable, the time chosen for Gair.a's departure was the most improper during the whole year. He set sail from Lisbon on the ninth of July, [1497], and, standing towards the south, had to struggle for four months with contrary winds before he could reach the Cape of' Good Hope. Here their violence began to abate [Nov. 20] ; and during an interval of calm weather, Gama doubled that formidable promontory, which had so long been the boundary of navigation, and directed his course towards the north-east, along the African coast. He touched at several ports ; and after various adventures, which the Portuguese historians relate with high but just encomiums upon his conduct and intrepidity, he came to anchor betore the city of Melinda. Throughout all the vast countries which extend along the coast of Africa, from the river Senegal to the confines of Zanguebar, the Portuguese had found a race of men rude and uncultivated, strangers to letters, to arts, and commerce, and differing from the inhabitants of Europe no less in their features and complexion than in their manners and institutions. As they advanced from this, they observed, to their inexpressible joy, that the human form gradually altered and improved ; the Asiatic features began to predominate, marks of civilization appeared, letters were known, the Mahometan religion was established, and a commerce far from being incon- siderable was carried on. At that time several vessels from India were in the port of Melinda. Gama now pursued his voyage with almost absolute certainty of success, and, under the conduct of a Mahometan pilot, arrived at Calecut, upon the coast of Malabar, on the twenty-second of May, one thousand tour hundred and ninety-eight. What he beheld of the wealth, the populousness, the cultivation, the industry, and arts of this highly civilized country, far surpassed any idea that he had formed, from the imperfect accounts which the Europeans had hitherto received of it. But as he possessed neither sufficient force to attempt a settlement, nor proper commodities with which he could carry on commerce of any consequence, he hastened back to Portugal, with an account of his success in performing a_ voyage, the longest, as well as most difficult, that had ever been made since the first invention of navigation. He landed at Lisbon on the four- * Heirera, dec. 1. lib. ul. e. li. Benxon. Hlet. Nov. Orb. lib. i. c 3. 80 HISTORY OF [Book II. teenth of September, one thousand A:)ur hundred and ninety -nine, two years two months and five days from the time he left that port.* Thus, during the course of the fifteenth century, mankind made greater progress in exploring the state of the habitable globe, than in all the ages which had elapsed previous to that period. The spirit of discovery, feeble at first and cautious, moved within a ver}' narrow s])hcre, and made its efforts with hesitation and timidity. Encouraged by success, it became adventurous, and boldly extended its operations. In the course of its pro- gression, it continued to acquire vigour, and advanced at length with a rapidity and force which burst through all the limits within which ignorance and fear had hitherto circumscribed the activity of the human race. Almost fifty years were employed by the Portuguese in creeping along the coast of Africa from Cape Non to Cape de Verd, the latter of which lies only twelve degrees to the south of the former. In less than thirty years they ventured beyond the equinoctial line into another hemisphere, and penetrated to the southern extremity of Africa, at the distance of forty -nine degrees from Cape de Verd. During the last seven years of the century, a New World was discovered in the west, not inferior in extent to all the parts of the earth with which mankind were at that time acquainted. In the East, unknown seas and countries were found out, and a conmiunication, long desired, but hitherto concealed, was opened between Europe and the opulent regions of India. In comparison with events so wonderful and unexpected, all that had hitherto been deemed great or splendid faded away and disappeared. Vast objects now presented themselves. The human mind, roused and interested by the prospect, engaged with ardour in pursuit of them, and exerted its active powers in a new direction. This spirit of enterprise, though but ncAvly awakened in Spain, began soon to operate extensively. All the attempts towards discovery made in that kingdom had hitherto been carried on by Columbus alone, and at the expense of the Sovereign. But now private adventurers, allured by the magnificent descriptions he gave of the regions which he had visited, as well as by the specimens of their wealth wliich he produced, offered to fit out squadrons at their own risk, and to go in quest of new countries. The Spanish court, whose scanty revenues were exhausted by the chaise of its expeditions to the New World, which, though they opened alluring p^iospects of future benefit, yielded a very sparing return of present profit, was extremely willing to devolve the burden of discovery upon its subjects. It seized with joy an opportunity of rendering the avarice, the ingenuity, and efforts of projectors instrumental in promoting designs of certain advan- tage to the public, though of doubtful success vvjtli respect to themselves. One of the first propositions of this kind was made hy Alonzo de Ojeda, a gallant and active officer, who had accompanied Columbus in his second voyage. His rank and character procured him such credit with the mer- chants of Seville, that they undertook to equip four ships, provided he could obtain the royal license, authorizing the voyage. Tb.e povverfiil patronage of the Bishop of Badajos easily secured success in a suit so agreeable to the court. Without consulting Columbus, or regarding the rights and jurisdiction which he had acquired by the capitulation in one thousand four hundred and ninety-two, Ojeda was permitted to set out for the New World. In order to direct his course, the bishop communicated to him the admiral's journal of his last voyage, and his charts of the countries which he had discovered. Ojeda struck out into no new path of navigation, but adhering servilely to the route which Columbus had taken, arrived on the coast of Paria U^I^iyJ- ^^^ traded with the natives, and, standing to the west, proceeded as far as Cape de Vela, and ranged along a considerable extent of coast beyond that on which Columbus • Ramueio, vol. i. 113. D. AMERICA. 81 had touched. Having thus ascertained the opinion of Columtus, that this countiy was a part of the continent, Ojeda returned by way of Hispaniola to Spain [October], with some reputation as a discoverer, but with little benefit to those who had raised the funds for the expedition.* Amerigo Vespucci, a Florentine gentleman, accompanied Ojeda in this Voyage. In what station he served is uncertain ; but as he was an experienced sailor, and eminently skilled in all the sciences subservient to navigation, he seems to have acquired such authority among his companions, that they willingly allowed him to have a chief share in diiecting their operations during tlie voyage. Soon after his return, he transmitted an account of his adventures and discoveries to one of his countrymen ; and labouring with the vanity of a traveller to magnify his own exploits, he had the address and confidence to frame his narrative so as to make it appear that he had the glory of having first discovered the continent in the New World. Amerigo s account was drawn up not only with art, but with sonie elegance. It contained an amusing history of his voyage, and judicious observations upon the natural productions, the inhabitants, and the customs of the countries which he had visited. As it was the first description of any part of the New World that was published, a performance so well calculated to gratify the passion of mankind for what is new and marvellous, circulated rapidly, and was read with admiration. The country of which Amerigo was supposed to be the discoverer, came gradually to be called by his name. The caprice of mankind, often as unaccountable as unjust, has perpetuated this error. By the universal consent of nations, America is the name bestowed on this new quarter of the globe. The bold pretensions of a fortunate impostor, have robbed the discoverer of the New World of a distinction which belonged to him. The name of Amerigo has supplanted that of Columbus ; and mankind maj^ regret an act of injustice, which, having received the sanction of time, it is now too late to redress. [22] During the same year, another voyage of discovery was undertaken. Columbus not only introduced the spirit of naval enterprise into Spain, but all the first adventurers who distinguished themselves in this new career were formed by his instructions, and acquired in his voyages the skill and information which qualified them to imitate his example Alonso Nigno, who had served under the admiral in his last expedition, fitted out a single ship, in conjunction with Christopher Guerra, a merchant of Seville, and sailed to the coast of Paria. This voyage seems to have been conducted with greater attention to private emolument than to any general or national object. Nigno and Guerra made no discoveries of any importance ; but they brought home such a return of gold and pearls as inflamed their coun- trymen with the desire of engaging in similar adventures.! Soon after [Jan. 13, 1500], Vincent Yanez Pinzon, one of the admiral's companions in his first voyage, sailed from Palos with four ships. He stood boldly towards the south, and was the first Spaniard who ventured across the equinoctial line ; but he seems to have landed on no part of the coast beyond the mouth of the Maragnon, or river of the Amazons, All these navigators adopted the erroneous theory of Columbus, and believed that the countries which they had discovered were part of the vast continent of India.| During the last year of the fifteenth century, that fertile district of America, on the confines of which Pinzon had stopped short, was more fully discovered. The successful voyage of Gama to the East Indies having encouraged the King of Portugal to fit out a fleet so powerful as not only to carry on trade but to attempt conquest, he gave the command of it to Pedro Alvarez Cabral. In order to avoid the coast of Africa, where he was • Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iv. r. 1, 2, 3. t P- Mart\T. dee. p. 87. Heirera, dec. 1. lib. iv. c. S t Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iv. c. 6. P. Martvr, dec. p. 95. Vol. I.—ll 82 HISTORY OF - [Book II certain of meeting with variable breezes or frequent calins, which might retard his voyage, Cabral stood out to sea, and kept so far to the wrst, that, to bis surprise, he found himself upon the shore of an unknown country, in the tenth degree beyond the line. He imagined at iirst that it was some island in the Atlantic ocean, hitherto unobserved ; but, proceeding along its coast for several days, he was led gradually to believe, that a country so extensiv!^ formed a part of some great continent. This latter opinion was we!! founded. Tiie country with which he fell in belongs to that province in Sou'h America now known by the name of Brasil. He landed ; and having formed a very high idea of the fertility of the soil, and agreea- bleness of the climate, he took possession of it for the crown of Portugal, and despatched a ship to Lisbon with an account of this event, which appeared to be no less important than it was unexpected.* Columbus's discovery of the New World was the eflbrt of an active genius enlightened by science, guided by experience, and acting: upon a regular plan executed with no less courage than perseverance. But from this adventure of the Portuguese, it appears that chance might have accomplished that great design which it is now the pride of human reason to have formed and periected. If the sagacity of Columbus had not conducted mankind to America, Cabral, by a fortunate accident, might have led them, a few years later, to the knowledge of that extensive continent.! While the Spaniards and Portuguese, by those successive voyages, were daily acquiring more enlarged ideas of the extent and opulence of that quarter of the globe which Columbus had made known to them, he himselt, far from enjoying the tranquillity and honours with which his services should have been recompensed, was struggling with every distress wi which the envy and malevolence of the people under his command, or the ingratitude of the court which he served, could involve him. Though the pacification with Roldan broke the union and ^veakened the force of the mutineers, it did not extirpate the seeds of discord out of the island. Several of the malecontents continued in arms, refusing to submit to the adnn'ral. He and his brothers were obliged to take the field alter- nately, in order to check their incursions, or to punish their crimes. The perpetual occupation and disquiet which this created, prevenled him Irom giving due attention to the dangerous machinations of his enemies in the court of Spain. A good number of such as were most dissatisfied with his ad^ninistration had embraced the opportunity of retuiiiing to Europe with the ships which he despatched from St. Domingo. The final disappointment oi all the ir hopes inflamed the rage of these unfortunate adventurers against Columbus to the utmost pitch. Their poverty and distress, by exciting compassion, rendered their accusations credible, and their complaints inte- restini;-. They teased Ferdinand and Isabella incessantly with mcmcrials, containing the detail of their own grievances, and the articles of their charge against Columbus. Whenever either the king or queen appeared in public, they surrounded them in a tumultuaiy manner, insisting with importunate clamours for the payment of the arrears due to them, and de- manding vengeance upon the author of their sufferings. They insulted the admiral's sons wherever iliey met them, reproaching them as the offspring ot the projector, whose fatal curiosity had discovered those pernicious regions which clrained Spain of its wealth, and would prove the grave of its people. These avowed endeavours of the malecontents from America to ruin Columbus, were seconded by the seci-et but more dangerous ii'sinu- ations of tljat party among the courtiers, which had always thwarted his schemes, and envied his success and credit.| Ferdinand was disposed to listen, not only with a willing but with a partial ear, to these accusations. Notwithstanding the flattering acrounts which ♦ Ileriera, dec. J. lih. iv. c. 7. | Ibid. dec. 1. lib. vii. c. 5. } Lifo of Columbus, c. 85. AMERICA. 83 Columbus had given of the riches of America, the remittances from it had hitherto been so scanty that they fell far short of deiraying the expense of the armaments fitted out. The glory of the discovery, together with the prospect of remote commercial advantages, was all that Spain had yet received in return for the efforts v^'hich she had made. But time had already diminished the first sensations of joy which the discovery of a New World occasioned, and fame alone was not an object to satisfy the cold interested mind of Ferdinand. The nature of commerce was then so little understood that, where immediate gain was not acquired, the hope of distant benefit, or of slow and moderate returns, was totally disregarded. Ferdinand considered Spain, on this account, as having lost by the enterprise of Columbus, and imputed it to his misconduct and incapacity for govern- ment, that a country abounding in gold had yielded nothing of value to its conquerors. Even Isabella, who from the favourable opinion which she entertained of Columbus had unilbrmly protected him, was shaken at length by the number and boldness of his accusers, and began to suspect that a disaffection so general must have been occasioned by real grievances which called for redress. The Bishop of Badajos, with his usual animosity against Columbus, encouraged these suspicions, and confirmed them. As soon as the queen began to give way to the toiTent of calumny, a resolution fatal to Columbus was taken. Francis do Bovadiila, a knight ot C'alatrava, was appointed to repair to Hispaniola, with full powers to inquire into the conduct of Columbus, and if he should find the chp^ge of malad- ministration proved, to supersede him, and assume the government of the island. It was impossible to escape condemnation, when this preposterous commission made it the interest of the judge to pronounce the person whom he was sent to try, guilty. Though Columbus had now composed ail the dissensions in the island ; though he had brought both Spaniards and Indians to submit peaceably to his government ; though he had made such effectual provision tor working the mines, and cultivating the country, as would have secured a considerable revenue to the king, as well as lai^e profits to individuals ; Bovadiila, without deigning to attend to the nature or merit of those services, discovered from the -moment that he landed in Hispaniola, a determined purpose o^ treating him as a criminal. He took possession of the admiral s house in St. Domingo, from which its master happened ?! that time to be absent, and seized h:" effects, as if his guilt had been already fully proved ; he rendered himself master of the fort and of the King's stores by violence ; he required ail persons to acknowledge him as supreme governor ; he set at liberty the prisoners confined by the admiral, and summoned him to appear before his tribunal, in ord^r to answer for his conduct ; transmitting to him, together with the summons, a copy of the royal mandate, by which Columbus was enjoined to yield implicit obedience to his commands. Columbus, though deeply affected with the ingratitude and injustice of Ferdinand and Isabella, did not hesitate a moment about his own conduct. He submitted to the will of his sovereigns with a respectful silence, and repaired directly [October] to the court of that violent and partial judge whom they had authorized to try him. Bovadiila, without admitting him into his presence, ordered him instantly to be arrested, to be loaded with chains, and hurried on board a ship. Even under this humiliating reverse of fortune, the firmnessof mind which distinguishes the character of Columbus did not tbrsake him. Conscious of his own integrity, and solacing him<:_lf with reflecting upon the great things which he hau achieved, he endurod this insult offered to his character, not only with composure but with dignity. Nor had he the consolation of sympathy to mitigate his sufferings. Bovadiila had already rendered himself so extremely popular, by granting various immunities to the colony, by liberal donations of Indians to all who applied for them, and by relaxing the reins of discipline and goviernment. 84 HISTORY OF [Book II. that the Spaniards, who were mostly adventurers, whom their indigence or crimes had compelled to abandon their native country, expressed tlie most indecent satisfaction with the disgrace and imprisonment of Columbus. They flattered themselves that now thej should enjoy an uncontrolled liberty more suitable to their disposition and tormer habits of life. Among persons thus prepared to censure the proceedings, and to asperse the character of Columbus, Bovadilla collected materials for a charge against hinri. All accusations, the most improbable as well as inconsistent, were received. No informer, however infam.ous, was rejected. The result of this inquest, no less indecent than partial, he transmitted to Spain. At the same time he ordered Columbus, with his two brothers, to be carried thither in fetters ; and, adding crueltj' to insult,^ he confined them in different ships, and excluded them from the comfort of that friendly intercourse which migh» have soothed their common distress. But while the Spaniards in Hispaniola viewed the arbitrary and insolent proceedings of Bovadilla with a general approbation, which reflects dishonour upon their name and country, one man still retained a proper sense of the great actions which Columbus had performed, and was touched with the sentiments of veneration and pity due to his rank, his age, and his merit. Alonzo de Valejo, the captain of the vessel on board which the admiral was confined, as soon as he was clear of the island, approached his prisoner with great respect, and offered to release him from the fetters with which he was unjustly loaded. " No," replied Columbus Avith a generous indignation, " I wear these irons in consequence of an order trom my sovereigns. They shall find me as obedient to this as to their other injunctions. By their command I have been confined, and their command alone shall set me at liberty."* Nov. 23.] Fortunatelv, the voyage to Spain was extremely short As soon as Ferdinand and Isabella were informed that Columbus was brought home a prisoner and in chains, they perceived at once what universal astonishment this event must occasion, and what an impression to their disadvantage it must make. All Europe, they foresaw, would be fiHed with indignation at this ungenerous requital of a man who had performed actions worthy of th'e highest recompense, and would exclaim against the injustice of the nation, to which he had been such an eminent benefactor, as well as against the ingratitude of the princes whose reign he had rendered illustrious. •'Ashamed of their own conduct, and eager not only to make some reparation for this injury, but to efface the stain which it might fix upon their character, they instantly issued orders to set Columbus at liberty [Dec. 17], invited him to court, and remitted money to enable him to appear there in a m.anner suitable to his rank. When he entered the royal presence, Columbus threw himself at the feet of his sovereigns. He remained for some time silent ; the various passions which agitated his mind suppressing his power of utterance. At length he recovered himself, and vindicated his conduct in a long discourse, producing the most satisfying proofs of his own integrity' as well as good intention, and evidence, no less clear, of the malevolence of his enemies, who, not satisfied with having ruined his fortune, laboured to deprive him of what alone was now left, his honour and his fame. Ferdi- nand received him with decent civility, and Isabella with tenderness and respect. They both expressed their sorrow for what had happened, disavowed their knowledge of it, and joined in promising him protection and future favour. But though they instantly degraded Bovadilla, in order to remove from themselves any suspicion ot having authorized his violent proceedings, tliey did not restore to Columbus his jurisdiction and privileges as viceroy of those countries which he had discovered. Though willing to appear the avengers of Columbus's wrongs, that illiberal jealousy which • Life of Columbus, c. 86. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. It. c. 3—11. Gomara Hist. c. S3. O\redo, Ub. tii. c. 6. AMERICA 85 prompted them to invest Bovadilla with sOch authority, as put it in his power to treat" the admiral with indignity, still subsisted. I'hey were afraid to trust a man to whom they had been so highly indebted ; and retaining him at court under various pretexts, they appointed Nicholas de Ovando, a knight of the military order of Alcantara, governor ot Hispaniola,* Columbus was deeply affected with this new injury, which came from hands that seemed to be employed in making reparation for his past sufferings. The sensibility with which great minds feel every thing that implies any suspicion of their integrity, or that wears the aspect of an affront, is exquisite. Columbus had experienced both from the Spaniards, and their ungenerous conduct exasperated him to such a degree that he could no longer conceal the sentiments which it excited. Wherever he went he carried about with him, as a memorial of their ingratitude, those fetters with which he had been loaded. They were constantly hung up in his chamber, and he gave orders, that when he died they should be buried in his grave. t 1501.] Meanwhile the spirit of discovery, notwithstanding the severe check which it had received by the ungenerous treatment of the man who first excited it in Spain, continued active and vigorous. [January] Roderigo de Bastidas, a person of distinction, fitted out two ships in copartnery with John de la Cosa, who having served under the admiral in two of his voyages was deemed the most skilful pilot in Spain. They steered directly towards the continent, arrived on the coast of Paria, and, proceeding to the west, discovered all the coast of the province now known by the name of Tierra Firme, from Cape de Vela to the Gulf of Darien. Not long after Ojeda, with his former associate Amerigo Vespucci, set out upon a second voyage, and, being unacquainted with the destination of Bastidas, held the same course and touched at the same places. The voyage of Bastidas was prosperous and lucrative, that of Ojeda unfortunate. But both tended to increase the ardour of discovery ; for in proportion as the Spaniards acquired a more extensive knowledge of the American continent, their idea of its opulence and fertility increased.^ Before these adventurers returned from their voyages, a fleet was equipped, at the public expense, for carrying over Ovando, the new governor, to Hispaniola. His presence there was extremely requisite, in order to stop the inconsiderate career of Bovadilla, whose imprudent administration threatened the settlement with ruin. Conscious of the violence and iniquity of his proceedings against Columbus, he continued to make it his sole object to gain the favour and support of his countrymen, by accommodating himself to their passions and prejudices. With this view, he established regulations in every point the reverse of those which Columbus deemed essential to the prosperity of the colony. Instead of the severe discipline, necessary in order to habituate the dissolute and corrupted members of which the society was composed, to the restraints of law and subordination, he suffered them to enjoy such uncontrolled license as encouraged the wildest excesses. Instead oi protecting the Ividians, he gave a legal sanction to the oppression of that unhappy people. He took the exact number of such as survived their past calamities, divided them into distinct classes, distributed them in property among his adherents, and reduced all the people of the island to a state of complete servitude. As the avarice of the Spaniard-? was too rapacious and impatient to try any- method of acquiring wealth but that of searching for gold, this servitude became as grievous as it was unjust. The Indians were driven in crowds to the mountains, and compelled to work in the mines, by masters who imposed their tasks without mercy or • Herrera, dec. l. lib. iv. c. 10—12. Lifeof Columbus, c. 87 t LUe of Columbus, c 86. p. 577. I Herrera, dec. 1. lib. iv. c. 11. 86 HISTORYOF [Book II. discretior;. Labour so disproportioned to their strength and former habits of life, wasted that feeble race of men with such rapid consumption, as must have soon terminated in the utter extincliun of the ancient hihabitants of the country.* The necessity of applying a speedy remedy to those disorders hastened Ovando's departure. He had the command of the most respectable arma- ment hitherto fitted out for the New World. It consisted of thirty-two ships, on board of which two thousand five hundred persons embarked with an intention of settling in the countrj\ [1502.] Upon the arrival of the new g(3vernor with this powerful reinforcement to the colony, Bovadilla resigned his charge, and was commanded to return instantly to Spain, in order to answer lor his conduct. Roldan and the other ringleaders of the mutineers, ■vvho had been most active in opposing Columbus, were required to leave the island at the same time. A proclamation was issued, declaring the natives to be free subjects of Spain, of whom no service was to be expected contrary to their own inclination, and without paying them an adequate price for their labour. \Vidi respect to the Spaniards themselves, various regu- lations were made, tending to suppress the licentious spirit which had been so fatal to the colony, and to establish that reverence for law and order on which society is founded, and to which it is indebted lor its increase and stability. In order to limit the exorbitant gain which private persons were supposed to make by working the mines, an ordinance was published, directing all the gold to be brought to a public smelting-house, and declaring one half of it to be the property of the crown.f While these steps were taking for securing the tranquillity and welfare of the colony which Columbus had planted, he himself was engaged in the unpleasant employment of soliciting the favour of an ungrateful court, and notwithstanding all his merit and services, he solicited in vain. He demanded, in terms of the original capitulation in one thousand lour hundred and ninety-two, to be reinstated in his office of viceroy over the countries which he had discovered. By a strange tatality, the circumstance which he urged in support of his claim, determined a jealous monarch to reject it. The greatness of his discoveries, and the prospect oi their increasing value, made Ferdinand consider the concessions in the capitulation as extravagant and impolitic. He was afraid of intrusting a subject with the exercise of a jurisdiction ihat now appeared to be so extremely extensive, and might grow to be no less formidable. He inspired Isabella with the same suspicions; and under various pretexts, equally frivolous and unjust, they eluded all Columbus's requisitions to perform that which a solemn compact bound them to accomplish. After attending the Court of Spain for near tv.'o years, as an humble suitor, he found it impossible to remove Ferdinand's prejudices and apprehensions; and perceived at length that he laboured in vain, when he ui^ed a claim of justice or merit with an interested and unfeeling prince. But even this ungenerous return did not discourage him from pursuing the great object which first called forth his inventive genius, and excited him to attempt discovery. To open a new passage to the East Indies was his original and favourite scheme. This still engrossed his thoughts ; and either trom his own observations in his voyage to Paria, or trom some obscure hint of the natives, or from the accounts given by Bastidas and de la Cosa of their expedition, he conceived an opinion that beyond the con- tinent of America there was a sea which extended to the East Indies, and hoped to find some strait or narrow neck of land, by which a communica- tion might be opened with it and the part of the ocean already known. By a very fortunate conjecture, he supposed this strait or isthmus to be • Herrera, dec. 1. lib. Iv. c. 11, &c. Oviedo Hist. lib. iil. c. 6. p. 97. Benzon Hist. lib. i. c IZ p. 51. t Solorzano Politica Indiana, lib. i. c. 12. Henera, dec. 1. Ub. iv. c. 12. AMERICA. 87 situated near the Gulf of Darien. Full of this idea, thoug-h he was now of an advanced age, worn out with fatigue, and broken with infirmities, he ofTered, with the alacrity of a youthlui adventurer, to undertake a voyage which would ascertain this important point, and perfect the grand scheme which from the beginning he proposed to accomplish. Several circumstances concurred in disposing Ferdinand and Isabella to lend a favourable ear to this proposal. They were glad to have the pretext of any honourable employment for removing from court a man with whose demands they deemed it impolitic to comply, and vvliose services it was indecent to neglect. Though unwilling to reward Columbus, they were not insensible of iiis merit, and from their experience of his skill and conduct, had reason to give credit to his conjectures, and to confide in his success. To these considerations, a third must be added of still more powerful influence. About this time the Portuguese fleet, under Cabral, arrived from the Indies ; and, by the richness of its cargo, gave the people of Europe a more perfect idea than they had hitherto been able to form, of the opulence and fertility of the East. The Portuguese had been more fortunate in their discoveries than the Spaniards. They had opened a communication with countries where industry, arts, and elegance flourished ; and where commerce had been longer established, and carried to greater extent than in any region of the earth. Their first voyages thither yielded immediate as well as vast returns of profit, in commodities extremely precious and in great reqaest. Lisbon became immediately the seat of commerce and wealth ; while Spain had only the expectation of remote benefit, and of future gain, from the western world. Nothing, then, could be more acceptable to the Spaniards than Columbus's offer to conduct them to the East, by a route which he expected to be shorter, as well as less dangerous than that which the Portuguese had taken. Even Ferdinand was roused by such a prospect, and warmly- approved of the undertaking. But interesting as the object of this voyage was to the nation, Columbus could procure only four small barks, the largest of which did not exceed seventy tons in burden, for performing it. Accustomed to brave danger, and to engage in arduous undertakings with inadequate force, he did not hesitate to accept the command of this pitiful squadron. His brother Bar- tholomew, and his second son Ferdinand, the historian of his actions, accompanied him. He sailed from Cadiz on the ninth of May, and touched, as usual, at the Canary islands ; from thence he proposed to have stood directly for the continent ; but his largest vessel was so clumsy and unfit for service, as constrained him to bear away for Hispaniola, m hopes of exchanging her for some ship of the fleet that had carried out Ovando. When he arrived at St. Domingo [June 29], he found eighteen of these ships ready loaded, and on the point of departing tor Spain. Columbus immediately acquainted the governor with the destination of his voyage, and the accident which had obliged him to alter his route. He requested permission to enter the harbour, not only that he might negotiate the exchange of his ship, but that he might take shelter during a violent hurri- cane, of which he discerned tlie approach from various prognostics which his experience and sagacity had taught him to observe. On that account, he advised him likewise to put on for some days the departure of tne fleet bound for Spain. But Ovando refused his request, and despised his counsel. Under circumstances in which humanity would have afiforded refuge to a stranger, Columbus was denied admittance into a country of ■which he had discovered the existence and acquired the possession. His salutary warning, which merited the greatest attention, was regarded as the dream of a visionary prophet, who arrogantly pretended to predict an event beyond the reach of human foresight. The fleet set sail for Spain. Next nijjht the hurricane came on with dreadful impetuosity. Columbus, aware of the danger, took precautions against it, and saved his little squadron. 98 HISTORY OF [Book II. The fleet destined for Spain met with the fate which the rashness and obstinacy of its commanders deserved. Of eighteen ships two or three only escaped. In this general wreck perished Bovadilla, Roldan, and the greater part of those who had been the most active in persecuting Columbus, and oppressing the Indians. Together with themselves, all the wealth which they had acquired by their injustice and cruelty was swallowed up. It exceeded in value two hundred thousand /jcso5 ; an immense sum at that period, and sufficient not only to have screened them from any severe scrutiny info their conduct, but t') have secured them a gracious reception in the Spanish court. Among the ships that escaped, one had on board all the effects of Columbus which had been recovered from the ruins of his fortune. Historians, struck with the exact discrimination of characters, as well as the just distribution of rewards and punishments, conspicuous in those events, universally attribute them to an immediate interposition of Divine Providence, in order to avenge the wrongs of an injured man, and to punish the oppressors of an innocent people. Upon the ignorant and superstitious race of men, who were witnesses of this occurrence, it made a different im- pression. From an opinion which vulgar admiration is apt to entertain with respect to persons who have distinguished themselves by their sagacity and inventions, they believed Columbus to be possessed of supernatural powers, and imagined that he had conjured up this dreadful storm by magical art and incantations in order to be avenged of his enemies.* Columbus soon left Hispaniola [July 14], where he met with such an inhospitable reception, and stood towards the continent. After a tedious and dangerous voyage, he discovered Guanaia, an island not far distant from the coast ot Honduras. There he had an interview with some inhabitants of the continent, who arrived in a large canoe. They appealed to be a people more civilized, and who had made greater progress in the knowledge of useful arts than any whom he had hitherto discovered. In return to the inquiries which the Spaniards made, with their usual eager- ness, concerning the places where the Indians got the gold which they wore by way of ornament, they directed them to countries situated to the west, in which gold was found in such profusion that it was applied to the most common uses. Instead of steering in quest of a country so inviting, which would have conducted him along the coast of Yucatan to the rich Empire of Mexico, Columbus was so bent upon his favourite scheme of finding out the strait which he supposed to communicate with the Indian ocean, that he bore away to the east towards the gulf of Darien. In this navigation he discovered all the coast of the continent, from Cape Gracias a Dios to a harbour which, on account of its beauty and security, he called Porto Bello. He searched in vain for the imaginary strait, through which he expected to make his way into an unknown sea ; and though he went on shore several times, and advanced into the countiy, he did not penetrate so far as to cross the narrow isthmus which separates the Gulf oi Mexico from the great Southern ocean. He was so much delighted, however, with the fertility of the country', and conceived such an idea of its wealth from the specimens of gold produced by the natives, that he resolved to leave a small colony upon the river Belen, in the province of Veragua, under the command of his brother, and to return himself to Spain [1503], in order to procure what was requisite for rendering the establishment permanent. But the ungovernable spirit of the people under his command, deprived Colum- Dus of the glory of planting the first colony on the continent of America. Their insolence and rapaciousness provoked the natives to take arms ; and as these were a more hardy and warlike race of men than the inhabitants of the islands, they cut off part of the Spaniards, and obliged the rest to abandon a station which was found to be untenable.! ♦ Ovicdo, lib. iii. c. 7. 9. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. v. c. 1, 9. Lifr of Columbus, e. 80. f Herrer* 4eo I lib. V. e. 5, See. Life of Coltunbus, c. 69, jcc Oviedo, lib iii c. 9. ^ ,^ AMERICA. 89 This repulse, the first that the Spaniards met with from any of the Ame- rican nations, was not the only misfortune that befell Columbus : it was followed by a succession of all the disasters to which navigation is exposed. Furious hurricanes, with violent storms of thunder and lightning, threatened his leaky vessels with destruction ; while his discontented crew, exhausted with fatigue, and destitute of provisions, was unwilling or unable to execute his commands. One of his ships perished ; he was obliged to abandon another, as unfit for service ; and with the two which remained, he quitted that part of the continent, which, in his anguish, he named the Coast of Vexation,* and bore away for Hispaniola. New distresses awaited him in this voyage. He was driven back by a violent tempest from the coast of Cuba, his ships fell foul of one another, and were so much shattered by the shock that with the utmost difficulty they reached Jamaica [June 24], where he was obliged to run them aground, to prevent them from sinking. The measure of his calamities seemed now to be full. He was cast ashore upon an island at a considerable distance from the only settlement of the Spaniards in America. His ships were ruined beyond the possibility of being repaired. To convey an account of his situation to Hispaniola appeared impracticable ; and without this it was in vain to expect relief. His genius, fertile in resources, and most vigorous in those perilous ft's^tre- mities when feeble minds abandon themselves to despair, discovered the only expedient which afforded any prospect of deliverance. He had recourse to the hospitable kindness of the natives, who, considering the Spaniards as beings of a superior nature, were eager, on every occasion, to, minister to their wants. From them he obtained two of their canoes, eaclt formed out of the trunk of a single tree hollowed with fire, an.d so misshapen and awkward as hardly to merit the name of boats. In these, which were fit only for creeping along the coast, or crossing, from one side of a bay to another, Mendez, a Spaniard, and Fieschi, a Genoese, two gentlemen parti cularly attached to Columbus, gallantly oSiered to set out foe- Hispaniola,-* upon a voyage of above thirty leagues.! This they accomplished in ten days, after surmounting incredible dangers, and enduriVig such fatigues that several of the Indians wjio accompanied them sunk under it, and died. T-he attention paid to them by the goV^n6r of Hispaniola was neither such as their courage merited, nor the distress of the persons from whom they came required. Ovando, from a mean jealousy of Columbus, was afraid of allowing him to set foot in the island under his government. This unge- nerous passion hardened his heart against every tender sentiment which reflection upon the services and misfortunes of that great man, or compas- sion for his own fellow-citizens, involved in the same calamities, must have excited. Mendez and Fieschi spent eight months in soliciting relief for their commander and associates, without any prospect of obtaining it. During this period, various passions agitated the mind of Columbus and his companions in adversity. At first, the expectation of speedy deliverance, from the success of Mendez and Fieschi's voyage, cheered the spirits of the most desponding. After some time the most timorous began to suspect that they had miscarried in their daring attempt [1504]. At length, even the most sanguine concluded that they had perished. The ray of hope which had broke in upon them, made their condition appear now more dismal. Despair, heightened by disappointment, settled in every breast. Their last resource had failed, and nothing remained but the prospect of ending their miserable days among naked savages, far from their country and their friends. The seamen, in a transport of rage, rose in open mutiny, threatened the life ot Columbus, whom they reproached as the author oi all their calamities, seized ten canoes, which they had purchased from the Indians, and, despising his remonstrances and entreaties, made o£f with * La Cosu de los Constraate«. t Ovicdo, lib. iii. c. 9* Vol. I.— 12 6 90 HISTORY OF [BookIL them to a distant part of the island. At the same time the natives mur- mured at the long residence of the Spaniards in their country. As their industry was not greater than that ot their neighbours in Hispaniola, Uke them they found the burden of supporting so mr^ny strangers to be aitoge- thei intolerable. They began to bring in provisions with reluctance, they furnished them with a sparing hand, and threatened to witlidraw those supplies altogether. Such a resolution must liave been quickly fatal to the Spaniards. Their safety depended upon the good will of the Indians ; and unless they could revive the admiration and reverence with which tliat simple people had at first beheld them, destruction was unavoidable. Though the licentious proceedings of tlie mutineers had in a great measure effaced those impressions which had been so favourable to the Spaniards, the ingenuity of Columbus suggested a happy artifice, that not only restored but heightened the high opinion which the Indians had originally entertained of them. By his skill in astronomy, he knew that there was shortly to be a total eclipse of the moon. He a'jsembled all the principal persons of the district around him on the day before it happened, and, after reproaching them for their fickleness in withdrawing their aflfection and assistance from men whom they had lately revered, he told them, that the Spaniards were servants of the Great Spirit who dwells in heaven, who made and governs the world ; that he, offended at their refusing to support men who were the objects of his peculiar favour, was preparing to punish this crime with exemplary severity, and that very night the moon should withhold her light, and appear of a bloody hue, as a sign of the divine wrath and an emblem of the vengeance ready to fall upon them. To this marvellous prediction some of them listened with the careless indifference peculiar to the people of America ; others, with the credulous astonishment natural to barbarians. But when the moon began gradually to be darkened, and at length appeared of a red colour, all were struck with terror. They ran with consternation to their houses, and returning instantly to Columbus loaded with provisions, threw them at his teet, conjuring him to intercede with the Great Spirit to avert the destruction with which they were threat- ened. Columbus, see.ming to be moved by their entreaties, promised to comply with their desire. The eclipse went off, the moon recovered its splendour, and Irom that day the Spaniards were not only furnished profusely with provisions, but the natives, Avith superstitious attention, avoided eveiy thing that could give them offence.* During those transactions, the mutineers had made repeated attempts to pass over to Hispaniola in the canoes Avhich they had seized. But, from their own misconduct or the violence of the winds and currents, their efforts were all unsuccessful. Enraged at this disappointment,they marched towards that part of the island where Columbus remained, threatening him with new insults and danger. While they were advancing, an event happened, more cruel and afflicting than any calamity which he dreaded from them. The governor of Hispaniola, whose mind was still filled with some dark suspicions of Columbus, sent a small bark to Jamaica, not to deliver his distressed countrymen, but to spy out their condition. Lest the sympathy of those whom he employed should afford them relief', contrary to his inten- tion, he gave the command of this vessel to Escobar, an inveterate enemy of Columbus, who, adhering to his instructions with malignant accuracy, cast anchor at some distance from the island, approached the shore in a small boat, observed the wretched plight of the Spaniards, delivered a letter of empty compliments to the admiral, received his answer, and departed. When the Spaniards first descried the vessel standing towards the island, every heart exulted, as if the long expected hour of their deliverance had at length arrived ; but when it disappeared so suddenly, they sunk into the * Life of Columbus, c. 103. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vi. c. 5, 6. Benron, Hist. lib. i. c 14 AMERICA, 91 deepest dejection, and all their hopes died away. Columbus alone, though he felt most sensilily this wanton insult which Ovando added to his past neglect, retained such composure of mind as to be able to cheer his followers. He assured them ihat Mendez and Fieschi had reached Hispaniola in safety j that they would speedily procure ships to carry them otf ; but, as Escobar's vessel could not take them all on board, that he had refused to go with her, because he was determined never to abandon the faithful companions of his distress. Soothed with the expectation of speedy deliverance, and delighted with his apparent generosity in attending more to their preservation than to his own safety, their spirits revived, and he regained their confidence.* Without this confidence he could not have resisted the mutineers, who were now at hand. All his endeavours to reclaim {[tOse desperate men had no effect but to increase their frenzy. Their demands became eveiy day more extravagant, and their intentions more violent and bloody. The common safety rendered it necessary to oppose them with open force. Columbus, who had been long afflicted with the gout, could not take the field. His brother, the adelantado, marched against them [May 20]. They quickly met. The mutineers rejected v.ith scorn terms of accom- modation, which were once more offered them, and rushed on boldly to the attack. They fell not upon an enemy unprepared to receive them. In the first shock, several of their most daring leaders were slain. The adelan- tado, whose strength was equal to his courage, closed with their captain, wounded, disarmed, and took him prisoner.! At sight of this, the rest fled with a dastardly fear suitable to their Ibrmer insolence. Soon alter, they submitted in a body to Columbus, and bound themselves by the most .solemn oaths to obey all his commands. Hardly was tranquillity re- established when the ships appeared, whose arrival Colum.bus had promised with great address, though he could foresee it with little certainty. With transports of joy the Spaniards quitted an island in which the unfeeling- jealousy of Ovando had suffered them to languish above a year, exposed to misery in all its various forms. ^V\hen they arrived at St. Domingo [Aug. 13], the governor, with the mean artifice of a vulgar mind, that labours to atone for insolence by servility, fawned on the man whom he envied, and had attempted to ruin. He received Columbus with the most studied respect, lodged him in his own house, and distinguished him with every mark of honour. But amidst those overacted demonstrations of regard, he could not conceal the hatred and malignity latent in his heart. He set at liberty the captain of the mutineers, whom Columbus had brought over in chains to be tried for his crimes ; and threatened such as had adhered to the admiral with proceeding to a judicial inquiry into their conduct. Columbus submitted in silence to what he could not redress ; but discovered an extreme impatience to quit a country Avhich was under the jurisdiction of a man who had treated him, on every occasion, with inhumanity and injustice. His preparations were soon finished, and he set sail for Spam with two ships [Sept. 12]. Disasters similar to those which had accompanied him through life continued to pursue him to the end of his career. One of his vessels being disabled, was soon forced back to St. Domingo ; the other, shattered by violent storms, sailed several hundred leagues withjurj'-masts, and reached with difliculty the port of St. Lucar [December].^ There he received the account of an event the most fatal that could have befallen him, and which completed his misfortunes. This was the death of his patroness Queen Isabella [Nov. 9], in whose justice, humanity, and favour he confided as his last resource. None now remained to redress his wrongs, or to reward him for his services and sufferings, but Ferdinand, who * Life of Columbus, c. 104. Herrcra, dec. 1. lib. vi. c. 17. f Ibid. c. 107. Herrera, dec U Jib. vi. 0. II. t Ibid, c 10& Hericia, dec. 1. lib. vi. o. 19w 9i HISTORYOF [Book III. had so Ion? opposed and so often injured him. To solicit a prince thus firejudiced against him was an occupation no less irksome than hopeless, n this, however, was Columbus doomed to employ the close of his days. As soon as his health was in some degree re-established, he repaired to court ; and though he was received there with civility barely decent, he plied Ferdinand Avith petition after petition, demanding the punishment of his oppressors, and the restitution of all the privileges bestowed upon him by the capilijlation of one thousand four hundred and ninety-two. Ferdi- nand amused him with fair words and unmeaning promises. Instead of granting his claims, he proposed expedients in order to elude them, and spun out the affair with such apparent art, as plainly discovered his intention that it should never be terminated. The declining heahh of Columbus flattered Ferdinand with the hopes of being soon delivered from an importunate suitor, and encouraged him to persevere in this illiberal plan. Nor was he deceived in his expectations. Disgusted with the ingratitude of a monarch whom he had served >vith such fidelity and success, exhausted with the fatigues and hardships which he had endured, and broken with the infirmities which these had brought upon him, Columbus ended his life at Valladolid on the twentieth of May, one thousand five hundred and six in the fifty-ninth year of his age. He died with a composure of mind suitable to the magnanimity which distinguished his character, and with sentiments of piety, becoming that supreme respect for religion which he manifested in eveiy occurrence of his life."* BOOK III. While Columbus was employed in his last voyage, several events worthy of notice happened in Hispaniola. The colony there, the parent and nurse of all the subsequent establishments of Spain in the New World, gradually acquired the form of a regular and prosperous society. The humane solicitude of Isabella to protect the Indians from oppression, and particularly the proclamation bj^ which the Spaniards were prohibited to compel them to work, retarded, it is true, for some time the progress of improvement. The natives, who considered exemption from toil as extreme felicity, scorned every allurement and reward by which they were invited to labour. The Spaniards had not a sufficient number of hands either to work the mines or to cultivate the soil. Several of the first colonists who had been accus- tomed to the service of the Indians, quitted the island, when deprived of those instruments, without which they knew not how to carry on any operation. Many of the new settlers who came over with Ovando, were seized with the distempers peculiar to the climate, and in a short space above a thousand of them died. At the same time, the exacting one half of the product of the mines, as the royal share, was ibund to be a demand so exor- bitant that no adventurers would engage to work them upon such terms. In order to save the colony from ruin, Ovando ventured to relax the rigour of the royal edicts [1505]. He made a new distribution of the Indians among the Spaniards, and compelled them to labour, for a stated time, in digging the mines, or in cultivating the ground ; but in order to screen himself from the imputation of having subjected them again to servitude, he enjoined their masters to pay them a certain sum, as the price of their work. He • Life of Columbus, c. 108. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vi. c. 13, 14, 15. A M E R I C A. 93 reduced the royal share of the gold found in the mines fioin the half to the third part, and soon after lowered it to a fifth, at which it long remained. Notwithstanding Isabella's tender concern for the good treatment of the Indians, and Ferdinand's eagerness to improve the Royal revenue, Ovando persuaded the court to approve of both these regulations.* But the Indians, after enjoying respite from oppression, though during a short interval, now felt the yoke of bondage to be so galling that they made several attempts to vindicate their own liberty. This the Spaniards consi- dered as rebellion, and took arms in order to reduce them to subjection. When war is carried on between nations whose state of improvement is in any degree similar, the means of defence bear some proportion to those employed in the attack ; and in this equal contest such efforts must be made, such talents are displayed, and such passions roused, as exhibit mankind to view in a situation no less striking than interesting. It is one of the noblest functions of history to observe and to delineate men at a juncture when their minds are most violently agitated, and all their powers and passions are called forth. Hence the operations of war, and the struggles between contending states, have been deemed by historians, ancient as well as modern, a capital and important article in the annals of human actions. But in a contest between naked savages, and one of the most warlike of the European nations, where science, courage, and discipline on one side, were opposed by ignorance, timidity, and disorder on the other, a particular detail of events would be as unpleasant as uninstructive. If the simplicity and innocence of the Indians had inspired the Spaniards with humanity, had softened the pride of superiority into compassion, and had induced them to improve the inhabitants of the New World, instead of oppressing them, some sudden acts of violence, like the too rigorou? chastisements of impatient instructors, might have been related without horror. But, unfor- tunately, this consciousness of superiority operated in a different manner. The Spaniards were advanced so far beyond the natives of America in improvement of every kind, that they viewed them with contempt. They conceived the Americans to be animals of an inferior nature, who were not entitled to the rights and privileges of men. In peace they subjected them to servitude. In war they paid no regard to those laws which, by a tacit convention between contending nations, regulate hostility, and set some bounds to its rage. They considered them not as men fighting in defence of their liberty, but as slaves who had revolted against their masters. Their caziques, when taken, were condemned, like the leaders of banditti, to the most cruel and ignominious punishments ; and all their subjects, without regarding the distinction of ranks established among them, were reduced to the same state of abject slavery. With such a spirit and sentiments were hostilities carried on against the cazique of Higuey, a province at the eastern extremity of the island. This war was occasioned by the perfidy of the Spaniards, in violating a treaty which they had made with the natives, and it was terminated by hanging up the cazique, who defended his people with bravery so far superior to that of his countrymen, as entitled nim to a better fate.t The conduct of Ovando, in another part of the island, was still more treacherous and cruel. The province anciently named Xaragua, which extends from the fertile plain where Leogane is now situated to the western extremity of the island, was subject to a female cazique, named Anacoana, highly respected by the natives. She, from that partial fondness with which the women of America were attached to the Europeans (the cause of which shall be afterwards explained), had always courted the friendship of the Spaniards, and loaded them with benefits. But some of the adhe- rents of Koldan having settled in her country, were so much exasperated • Herrera, dec. 1. lib. v. c. 3 ! Ibid dec. 1. Jib. vi. t. 9, 10. 91 HISTORYOF [Book III. at her endeavouring to restrain their excesses, that they accused her of having formed a plan to throw off the yoke, and to exterminate the Spaniards. Ovando, thou2:h he knew well what little credit was due to such profligate men, marched, without further inquirj', towards Xaragua, with three hundred foot and seventy horsemen. To prevent the Indians from taking alarm at this hostile appearance, lie gave out that his sole intention was to visit Anacoana, (owhom his countrjnnen had been so much indebted, in the most respectful manner, and to regulate with her the mode of levying the tribute payable to the king of Spain. Anacoana, in order to receive this illustrious guest with due honour, assembled the principal men in her dominions, to the nun.ber of three hundred ; and advancing at the head of these, accompanied by a great ciowd of pereons of inferior rank, «he welcomed Ovando with songs and dances, according to the mode of the country, and conducted him to the place of her residence. There he was teasted for some days, with all the kindness of simple hospitality, and amused v/ith the games and spectrtclcs usual among the Americans upon occasions of mirth and festivity. But amidst the security ".vhich this inspired, Ovando was meditating the destruction of his unsuspicious enter- tainer and her sut/jects ; and the mean perfidy with which he executed this scheme, equalled his barbarity in forming it. Under colour of exhibiting to the Indians the parade of a European tournament, he advanced with his troops, in battle array, towards the house in which Anacoana and the chiefs wlic attended her were assembled. The infantry took possession of all the avenues which led to the village. The horsemen encompassed the house. '1 hese movements were the object of admiration, without any mixture of fear, until, upon a signal which had been concerted, the Spaniards suddenly drew their swords, and rushed upon the Indians, defenceless, and astonished at an act of treachery which exceeded the conception of undesigning men. In a moment Anacoana was secured. All her attendants were seized and bound. Fire was set to the house ; and without examination or conviction, all these unhapjay persons, the inost illustrious in their own countr)', were consumed in the tlames. Anacoana was reserved for a more ignominious fate. She was carried in chains to St. Domingo, and, after the formrlity of a trial before Spanish judges, she was condemned, upon the evidence of those very men who had betrayed her, to be publicly hanged.* Overawed and humbled by this atrocious treatment of their princes and nobles, who were objects of their highest reverence, the people in all the provinces of Hispaniola submitted, without further resistance, to the Spanish yoke. Upon the death of Isabella all the regulations tending to mitigate the rigour of their servitude were forgotten. The small gratuity paid to them as the price of their labour was withdrawn, and at the same time the tasks imposed upon them were increased [l506]. Ovando, without any restraint, distributed Indians among his friends in the island. Ferdinand, to whom the Queen had left by will one half of the revenue arising from the settle- ments in the New World, conferred grants of a similar nature upon his courtiers, as the least expensi\e mode of rewarding their services. They farmed out the Indians, of whom they were rendr red proprietors, to their countrymen settled in Hispaiiola ; and that wretched people, beins: com- pelled" to labour in order to satisfy the rapacity of both, the exactmns of their oppressors no longer knew any bound-. But, barbarous as their policy was, and fatal to the inhabitants of Hispaniola, it {Produced, for some time, very considerable effects. By calling forth the force of a whole nation, and exerting itself in one direction, the working of the mines was carried on with amazing rapidity and success. During several years the gold brought into the royal smelting houses in Hispaniola amounted annually to four hundred • Ovt'dn, lib. iii. r. 12. Herrcra, dec. 1. lib. vi. c. 4. Relacion de Destruyc' delas Indias por Biirt. de Vdx Cas.i.i, p. S. AMERICA. 95 and sixty thous?nd pesos, above a hundred thousand pounds sterlino: ; which, if we attend to the great change in the value of money since the beginning of the sixteenth century to the present times, must appear a considerable sum. Vast fortunes were created, of a sudden, by some. Othe;- dissipnted, in ostentatious profusion, what they acquired with facility. Dazzled by both, new adventurers crowded to America, with the most eager impatience, to share in those treasures which had enriched their couiitrj^men ; and, notwithstanding the mortality occasioned by the unhealthiness of the climate, the colony continued to increase.* Ovando governed the Spaniards with wisdom and justice not inferior to the rigour with which he treated the Indians. He established equal laws ; afld, by executing them with impartiality, accustomed the people of the colony to reverence them. He founded several new towns in ditVerent parts of the island, and allured inhabitants to them by the concession of various immunities. He endeavoured to turn the attention of tho Spaniards to some branch of indus'iy more useful than that of searching tor gold in the mines. Some slips of the sugarcane having been brought from the Canary islands by way of experiment, they were found to thrive with such increase in the rich soil and warm climate to which they were transplanted, that the cultivation of them soon became an object of commerce. Extonsive plantations were begun ; sugarworks, which the Spaniards called in^^enios, from the various machinery employed in them, were erected, and in a few years the manufacture of this commodity was the great occupation of the inhabitants of Hispaniola, and the most considerable source of their wealth.! The prudent endeavours of Ovando, to promote the welfare of the colony, were powerlully seconded by Ferdinand. The large remittances which he received from the New World opened his eyes, at length, with respect to the importance of those discoveries, which he had hitherto affected to undervalue. Fortune, and his own addiess, having -.ow ex- tricated him out of those ditficuliies in which he had been involved by the death of his Queen [1507], and by his disputes with his son-in-law aoout the government of her dominions,]; he had full leisure to turn bis altention to the affairs of America. I'o his provident sagacity Spain is indebted for many of those regulations which "-radually formed that system of profound but jealous policy, by which she governs her dominions in the Nev/ World. He erected a court distinguished by the tide of Casa Je Coniratacion, or Board of Trade, composed of persons eminent for rank and abilities, to whom he committed the administration of American affairs. This board assembled regularly in Seville, and was invested with a distinct and extensive jurisdiction. He gave a regular form to ecclesias- tical government in America, by nominating archbishops, bishops, deans, together with clergymen of subordinate ranks, to take charge of the Spaniards established there, as well as of the natives who should embrace the Christian faith, but notv/ithstanding the obsequious devotion of the Spanish court to the papal see, such was Ferdinand's solicitude to prevent any foreign power from claiming jurisdiction, or acquiring influence, in his new dominions, that he reserved to the crown of Spain the sole right of patronage to the benefices in America, and stipulated that no papal bull or mandate should be promulgated there until it was previously examined and approved of by his council. With the same spirit of jealousy, he prohibited any goods to be exported to America, or any person to settle there without a special licer^e from that council. § But, notwithstanding this attention to the police and welfare of the colony, a calamity impended which threatened its dissolution. The original inha- * Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vi. c. 18, &c. f Oviedo, lih. Iv. c. 8. i History of Uic Rtigii of Ctiarles V. p. 6, &.c. § Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vi. c. li), 20 96 }I IS T O II Y O F [Book III. bitants, on whose labour the Spaniards in Hispaniola depended for their prosperity, and even their existence, wasted so fast that the extinction of the whole race seemed to be inevitable. When Columbus discovered Hispa- niola, the number of its inhabitants was computed to be at least a million.* They were now reduced to sixty thousand in the space of fifteen years. This consumption of the human species, no less amazing than rapidf, was the effect of^ several concurring causes. The natives of the American islands were of a more feeble constitution than the inhabitants of the other hemisphere. They could neither perform the same work nor endure the same fatigue with men whose organs were of a more vigorous con- formation. The listless indolence in which they delighted to pass their days, as it was the effect of their debility, contributed likewise to increase it, and rendered them from habit, as well as constitution, incapable of hard labour. The food on which they subsisted afforded little nourishment, and they were accustomed to take it in small quantities, not sutficient to invigorate a languid frame, and render it equal to the efforts of active industiy. The Spaniards, without attending to those peculiarities in the constitution of the Americans, imposed tasks upon them which, though not greater than Europeans might have performed with ease, were so disproportioned to their strength, that many sunk under the fatigue, and ended their wretched days. Others, prompted by impatience and despair, cut short their own lives with a violent hand. Famine, brought on bv compelling such numbers to abandon the culture of their lands, in order to labour in the mines, proved fatal to many. Diseases of various kinds, some occasioned by the hardships ♦to which they were exposed, and others by their intercourse with the Europeans, who communicated to them some of their peculiar maladies, completed the desolation of the island. The Spaniards, being thus deprived of the instruments which thej' were accustomed to employ, found it impos- sible to extend their improvements, or even to carry on the works which they had already begun [1508]. In order to provide an immediate remedy for an evil so alarming, Ovando proposed to transport the inhabitants of the Lucayo islands to Hispaniola, under pretence that they might be civilized with more facility, and instructed to greater advantage in the Christian religion, if they^ were united to the Spanish colony, and placed under the immediate inspection of the missionaries settled there. Ferdinand, deceived by this artifice, or willing to connive at an act of violence which policy represented as necessary, gave his assent to the proposal. Several vessels were fitted out for the Lucayos, the commanders of which informed the natives, with whose language they were now well acquainted, that they came from a delicious country, in which the departed ancestors of the Indians resided, by whom they were sent to invite their descendants to resort thither, to partake of the bliss enjoyed there by happy spirits. That simple people listened with wonder and credulity ; and, fond of visiting their relations and friends in that happy region, followed the Spaniards with eagerness. By this artifice above forty thousand were decoyed into His- paniola, to share in the sufferings which were the lot of the inhabitants of that island, and to mingle their groans and tears with those of that wretched race of men.j The Spaniards had, for some time, carried on their operations in the mines of Hispaniola with such ardour as well as success, that these seemed to have engrossed their whole attention. The spirit of discovery lan- guished ; and, since the last voyage of Columbus, no enterprise of any moment had been undertaken. But as the decrease of the Indians rendered it impossible to acquire wealth in that island with the same rapidity as formerly., this urged some of the more adventurous Spaniards to search for new countries, where their avarice might be gratified with more facility. * Henera, dec. I. lib. x. c. 12. t Ibid. lib. vli. c. 3. Oviedo, lib. iii. c. 6. Gomara Hist. c. 41. AMERICA. 97 Juan Ponce de Leon, who commanded under Ovando in the eastern district of Hispaniola, passed over to the island of St. Juan de Puerto Rico, which Columbus had discovered in his second voyage, and penetrated into the interior part of the country. As he found the soil to be fertile, and ex- pected, from some symptoms, as well as from the information of the inhabitants, to discover mines of gold in the mountains, Ovando permitted him to attempt making a settlement in the island. This was easily effected by an officer eminent for conduct no less than for courage. In a few years Puerto Rico was subjected to the Spanish government, the natives were reduced to servitude ; and being treated with the same inconsiderate rigour as their neighbours in Hispaniola, the race of original inhabitants, worn out with fatigue and sufferings, was soon exterminated.* About "the same time Juan Diazde Solis, in conjunction with Vincent Yanez Pinzon, one of Columbus's original companions, made a voyage to the conti- nent. They held the same couise which Columbus had taken as far as the island of Guanaios ; but, standing from thence to the west, they discovered a new and extensive province, afterwards known by the name of Y ucatan, and proceeded a considerable way along the coast of that country.! Though nothing memorable occurred in this voyage, it deserves notice, because it led to discoveries of greater importance- For the same reason the voyage of Sebastian de Ocampo must be mentioned. By the command of Ovando he sailed round Cuba, and first discovered with certainty, that this country, which Columbus once supposed to be a part of the continent, was a large island.^ This voyage round Cuba was one of the last occurrences under the admi nistration of Ovando. Ever since the death of Columbus, his son, Don Diego, had been employed in soliciting Ferdinand to grant him the offices of viceroy and admiral in the New World, together with all the other immunities and profits which descended to him by inheritance, in consequence of the original capitulation with his father. But if these dignities and_ revenues appeared so considerable to Ferdinand, that, at the expense of being deemed unjust as well as ungrateful, he had wrested them from Columbus, it was not surprising that he should be unwilling to conier them on his son. Accordingly Don Diego wasted two years in incessant but iruitless importunity. Weary of this, he endeavoured at length to obtain by a legal sentence what he could not procure from the favour of an inte- rested monarch. He commenced a suit against Ferdinand before the council which managed Indian affairs ; and that court, with integrity which reflects honour upon its proceedings, decided against the king, and sustained Don Diego's claim of the viceroyalty, together with all the other privileges stipulated in the capitulation. Even after this decree Ferdinand's repugnance to put a subject in possession of such extensive rights might have thrown m new obstacles, if Don Diego had not taken a step which interested very powerful persons in the success of his claims. The sentence of the council of the Indie:, gave him a title to a rank so elevated, and a fortune so opulent, that he found no difficulty in concluding a marriage with Donna Maria, daughter of Don Ferdinand de Toledo, great commendator of Leon, and brother of the duke of Alva, a nobleman of the first rank, and nearly related to the king. The duke and his family espoused so warnily the cause of their new ally, that Ferdinand could not resist tlieir solicitations [1509]. He recalled Ovando, and appointed Don Diego his successor, though even in conferring this favour he could not conceal his jealousy; lor he allowed him to assume only the title of governor, not that of viceroy, which had been adjudged to belong to him.§ Don Diego quickly repaired to Hispaniola, attended by his brother, his uncles, • Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vil. c. 1 — 4. Oomara Hist. c. 41. Relacion de B. do Ins Cas^s, p. 10. t Il)id. dec. J. Uh. vi. c. 17 J Ibid. lib. vii. =. I. 5 Ibid. dec. 1. lib. vii. c. 4, &.C. Vol. I.-13 98 HISTORY OF (Book III. his wife, whom the courtesy of the Spaniards honoured with the title of vice- queen, and a numerous retinue of persons of both sexes born of good families. He lived with a splendour and ma^iiticence hitherto unknown in the New World ; and the tamily of Columbus seemed now to enjoy the honours and rewards due to his inventive genius, of which he himself had been cruelly de- frauded. The coloiw itself acquired new lustre by the accession of so many inhabitants, of a different rank and character from most of those who had hitherto migrated to America, and many of the most illristrious families in the Spanish setdements are descended from the persons who at that time accom- panied Don Diego Columbus.* No benefits accrued to the unhappy natives from this change of governors. Don Diego was not only authorized by a royal edict to continue the repar- timientos, or distribution of Indians, but the particular number which he might grant to every person, according to his rank in the colony, was spe- cified. He availed himself of that permission ; and soon after he landed at St. Domingo, he divided such Indians as were still unappropriated, among his relations and attendants.! The next care of the new governor was to comply with an instruction which he received from t)ie king, about settling a colony in Cubagua, a srnall island which Columbus had discovered in his third voyage. Though this barren spot hardly yielded subsistence to its wretched inhabitants, such quantities of those oysters which produce pearls were found on its coast, that it did not long escape the inquisitive avarice of the Spaniards, and became a place of considerable resort. Large fortunes Avere acquired b^ the fishery of pearls, which was carried on with extraordinary ardour. The Indians, especially those from the Lucayo islands, were compelled to dive for them ; and this dangerous and unhealthy employment was an addi- tional calamity which contributed not a little to the extinction of that devoted race.| About this period, Juan Diazde Solis and Pinzon set out, in conjunction, upon a second voyage. They stood directly south, towards the equinoctial line, which Pinzon had formerly crossed, and advanced as far as the fortieth degree of southern latitude. They were astonished to find that the conti- nent of America stretched on their right hand through all this vast extent of ocean. They landed in different piaces, to take possession in name of their sovereign ; but though the countiy appeared to be extremely fertile and inviting, their force was so small, having been fitted out rather lor discovery than making settlements, that they left no colony behind them. Their voyage served, however, to give the Spaniards more exalted and adequate ideas with respect to the dimensions of this new quarter of the globe. § Though it was about ten years since Columbus had discovered the main land of America, the Spaniards had hitherto made no settlement in any part of it. What had been so long neglected was now seriously attemptea, and with considerable vigour ; though the plan for this purpose was neither formed by the crown, nor executed at the expense of the nation, but carried on by the enterprising spirit of private adventurers. The scheme took its rise from Alonso de Ojeda, who had already made two voyages as a disco- verer, by which he acquired considerable reputation, but no wealth. But his character for intrepidity and conduct easily procured him associates, who advanced the money requisite to defray the changes of the expedition. About the same time, Diego de Nicuessa, who had acquired a large fortune in Hispaniola, formed a siinilar design. Ferdinand encouraged both ; and though he refused to advance the smallest sum, he was extremely liber-l of titles and patents. He erected two governments on the continent, onr ex- tending from Cape de Vela to the GulT of Darien, and the other from thit to Cape Gracias a Dios. The formerwas given to Ojeda, the latter to Nicuessa. • Oviedo. lib. iii. c I. t ReconiUcion de Leyea, lib. vi. tit. 8. 1. 1, 2. Horrer.i, rtcc. 1 lib. vli.c.io. I Herrera, dec. 1. lib. \Ti. c. •^. Gomar* Hi6L c. 7d ^ Ibi4. dec. 1. ub. vu.» 9. AMERICA. 99 Ojeda fitted out a ship and two brigantines, with three hundred men, Nicuessa, six vessels, with seven hundred and eighty men. They sailed about the same time from St. Domingo for their respective governments. In order to give their title to those countries some appearance of validity, several of the most eminent divines and lawyers in Spain were employed to prescribe the mode in which they should take possession of them.* There IS not in the history of mankind any thing more singular or extravagant than the form which they devised for this purpose. They instructed those invaders, as soon as they landed on the continent, to declare to the natives the principal articles ot the Christian faith ; to acquaint them in parti- cular, with the supreme jurisdiction of the Pope over all the kingdoms of the earth ; to inform them of the grant which this holy pontiff had made of their country to the king of Spain ; to require them to embrace the doctrines of that religion which the Spaniards made known to them ; and to submit to the sovereign whose authority they proclaimed. If the natives retused to comply with this requisition, the terms of which must have been utterly incomprehensible to uninstructed Indians, then Ojeda and Nicuessa were authorized to attack them with fire and sword ; to reduce them, their wives and children, to a state of servitude ; and to compel them by force to recognise the jurisdiction of the church, and the authority of the monarch, to which they would not voluntarily subject themselves [23]. As the inhabitants of the continent could not at once yield assent to doctrines too refined for their uncultivated understandings, and explained to them by interpreters imperfectly acquainted with their language ; as they did not conceive how a foreign priest, of whom they had never heard, could have any right to dispose of their country, or how an unknown prince should claim jurisdiction over them as his subjects ; they fiercely opposed the new invaders of their territories. Ojeda and Nicuessa endeavoured to effect by force what they -could not accomplish by persuasion. The contemporary writers enter into a very minute detail in relating their transactions ; but as they made no discovery of importance, nor established any permanent settlement, their adventures are not entitled to any consi- derable place in the general history of a period where romantic valour, struggling with incredible hardships, distinguishes every effort of the Spanish arms. They found the natives in those countries of which they went to assume the government, to be of a character very different from thai of their countrymen in the islands. They were free and warlike. Tlieir arrows were dipped in a poison so noxious, that every wound was followed ■\vith certain death. In one encounter they slew above seventy of Ojeda's followers, and the Spaniards, for the first time, were taught to dread the inhabitants of the New World. Nicuessa was opposed by people equally resolute in defence of their possessions. Notliing could soften their ferocity. Though the Spaniards employed every art to soothe them, and to gain their confidence, they refused to hold any intercourse, or to exchange any friendly othce, with men whose residence among them they considered as fatal to their liberty and independence [1510]. This implacable enmity of the natives, though it rendered an attempt to establish a settlement in their country extremely dilficult as well as dangerous, might have been surmounted at length by the perseverance of the Spaniards, by the supe- riority of their arms, ana their skill in the art of war. But every disaster which can be accumulated upon the unfortunate combined to complete their ruin. The loss of their ships by various accidents upon an unknown coast, the diseases peculiar to a climate the most noxious in all America, the want of provisions unavoidable in a country imperfectly cultivated, dissension among themselves, and the incessant hostilities of the natives, involved them in a succession of calamities, the bare recital of which strikes * Herrera, dec. 1. lib. \'ii. c. 15. 100 HISTORY OF (Book III. one with horror. Though they received two considerable reinforcements from Hispaniola, the greater part of those who had engaged in tliis unhappy expedition perished, in less than a year, in the most extreme misi.ry. A few who survived settled as a feeble colony at Santa Mari- el Antigua, on the Gulf of Darien, under the command of Vasco Nugnez de Balboa, who, in the most desperate exigencies, displayed such courage and conduct as first gained the confidence oi his countrymen, and marked him out as their leader in more splendid and successful undertakings. Nor w?s he the only adventurer in this expedition who will appear with lustre in more important scenes. Francisco Pizarro was one of Ojeda's companions, and in this school of adversity acquired or improved the talents wliich fitted him for the extraordinary actions which he afterwards p formod. Keman Cortes, whose name became still more famous, had likewise engaged early in this enterprise, which roused all the active youth of H'spaniola to arms ; but the good fortune that accompanied him in his subsequent adventures interposed to save him from the disasters to which his companions were exposed. He was taken ill at 3t. Domingo before the departure of the fleet, and detained there by a tedious indisposition.* Notwithstanding the unfortunate issue of this expedition, the Spaniards were not deterred from engaging in new schemes of a .similar nature. When wealth is acquired gradually'by the persevering hand of industry, or accumulated by the slow operations of regular commerce, the means employed are so proportioned to the end attained, that there is nothing to strike the imagination, and little to urge on the active powers of the mind to uncommon efforts. But when large fortunes were created almost instantaneously ; when gold and pcdfls were procurea in exchange for baubles ; when the countries which produced these rich commodities, defended only by naked savages, might be seized by the first bold invader ; objects so singular and alluring roused a wonderful spirit of enterprise among the Spaniards, who rushed with ardour into this new path that was opened to wealth and distinction. While this spirit continued warm -and vigorous, eveiy attempt either towards discovery or conquest was applauded, and adventurers engaged in it with emulation. The passion for new _,nder- takings, which characterizes the age of discovery in the latter part of the fifteenth and beginning of the sixteenth century, would alone have been sufficient to prevent the Spaniards from stopping short in their career. But circumstances peculiar to Hispaniola, at this juncture, concuiTed with it in extending their navigation and conquests. The rigorous treatment of the inhabitants of that island having almost extirpated the race, many of the Spanish planters, as I have already observed, finding it impossible to carry on their works with the same vigour and profit, were obliged to look out for settlements in some country where people were not yet wasted by op- pression. Others, with the inconsiderate levity natural to men upon whom wealth pours in with a sudden flow, had squandeiod in thoughtless prodigality what they acquired with ease, and were driven by necessity to embark in the most desperate schemes, in order to retrieve their affairs. From all these causes, when Don Diego Columbus proposed [l5ll] to conquer the island of Cuba, and to establish a colony there, many persons of chief distinction in Hispaniola engaged with alacrity in the measure. He gave the command of the troops destined for that service to Diego Velasquez, one of his father's companions in his second voyage, and who. having been long settled in Hispaniola, had acquired an ample fortune, with such repu- tation ibr probity and prudence, that he seemed to be well qualified for conducting an expedition of importance. Three hundred men were deemed sufficient Tor the conquest of an island of above seven hundred miles in » Herrera, dec. 1. lib. vii, c. 11, fcc. Goraara Hist. c. 57, 58, 59. Benzon. Hist. lib. i. c. 19— 33L P. Miirtyi\j decaJ. p. 122. AMERICA. 101 length, and filled with inhabitants. But they were of the same unwarlike character with the people of Hispaniola. They were not only intimidated by the appearance of their new enemies, but unprepared to resist them. For though, from the time that the Spaniards took possession of the adjacent island, there was reason to expect a descent on their territories, none of the small communities into which Cuba was divided, had either made any provision for its own defence, or had formed any concert for their common safety. The only obstruction the Spaniards met with was from Hatuey, a cazique, who had tied from Hispaniola, and had taken possession of the eastern extremity of Cuba. He stood upon the defensive at their first landing, and endeavoured to drive them back to their ships. His feeble troops, however, were soon broken and dispersed ; and he himself being taken prisoner, Velasquez, according to the barbarous maxim of the Spaniards, considered him as a slave who had taken arms against his master, and condemned him to the flames. When Hatuey was fastened to the stake, a Franciscan friar, labouring to convert him, promised him imme- diate admittance into the joys of heaven, if he would embrace the Christian faith. " Are there any Spaniards," saj's he, after some pause, " in that region of bliss which you describe ?" — " Yes," replied the monk, " but only such as are worthy and good."—" The best of them," returned the indignant cazique, " have neither worth nor goodness : I will not go to a place where I may meet with one of that accursed race."* This dreadful example of vengeance struck the people of Cuba Avith such terror that they scarcely gave any opposition to the progress of their invaders ; and Velas- quez, without the loss of a man, annexed this extensive and fertile island to the Spanish monarchy.! The facility with which this important conquest was completed served as an incitement to other undertakings. Juan Ponce de Leon, having acquired both fame and wealth by the reduction of Puerto Rico, was impatient to engage in some new enterprise. He fitted out three ships at his own expense, lor a voyage of discovery [1512], and his reputation soon drew together a respectable body of followers. He directed his course towards the Lucayo islands ; and after touching at several of them, as well as of the Bahama isles, he stood to the south-west, and discovered a country hitherto unknown to the Spaniards, which he called Florida, either because he fell in with it on Palm Sunday, or on account of its gay and beautiiul appearance. He attempted to land in different places, but met with such vigorous opposition from the natives, who were fierce and warlike, as con- vinced him that an increase of force was requisite to effect a settlement. Satisfied with having opened a communication with a new country, of whose value and importance he conceived very sanguine hopes, he returned to Puerto Rico through the channel now known by the name of the Gulf of Florida. It was not merely the passion of searching for new countries that prompted Ponce de Leon to undertake this voyage ; he was influenced by one of those visionary ideas, which at that time often mingled with the spirit of discovery, and. rendered it more active. A tradition prevailed among the natives of Puerto Rico, that in the isle of Bimini, one of the Lucayos, there was a fountain of such wonderful virtue as to renew the youth and recall the vigour of every person who bathed in its salutary waters. In hopes of finding this grand, restorative. Ponce de Leon and his followers ranged through the islands, searching with fruitless solicitude and labour for the fountain which was the chief object of their expedition. That a tale so fabulous should gain credit among simple and uninstructed Indians is not surprising. That it should make any impression upon an enlightened people appears in the present age altogether incredible. The fact, however, is * B. de laa Cosas, p. 40. t Herrera, dec. I. lib. U. c. 2, 3, tec. Oviodo, lib. zvii. c 3. p. 170 102 HISTORY OF [Book III. certain ; and the most authentic Spanish historians mention this extravagant saily of their credulous countrj'men. The Spaniards at that period were engaged in a career oi" activity which gave a romantic turn to their imae;ina- tion, and daily presented to them strange and marvellous oLjecls. A New World was opened to their view. They visited islands and continents, of whose existence mankind in former ages had no conception. In those delightiul countries nature seemed to assume another form : every tree and plant and animal was different from diose of the ancient hemisphere. They seemed to be transported into enchanted ground ; and after the wonders w hich they had seen, nothing, in the warmth and novelty of their admira- tion, appeared to them so extraordinary as to be beyond belief. If the rapid succession of new and striking scenes made such impression even upon the sound understanding of Columbus, that he boasted of having found the seat of Paradise, it will not appear strange that Ponce de Leon should dream of discovering the fountain of youth.* Soon after the expedition to Florida, a discovery of much greater import- ance was made in another part of America. Balboa having been raised to the government of the small colony at Santa Maria in Darien, by the voluntary suffrage of his associates, was so extremely desirous to obtain from the crown a confirmation of their election, that he despatched one of his officers to Spain, in order to solicit a royal commission, which might invest him with a legal title to the supreme command. Conscious, however, that he could not expect success from the patronage of Ferdinand's ministers, with whom he was unconnected, or from negotiating in a court to the arts of which he was a stranger, he endeavoured to merit the dignitj' to which he aspired, and aimed at performing some signal service that would secure him the prelerence to every competitor. Full of this idea, he made frequent inroads into the adjacent country, subdued several of the caziques, and collected a considerable quantity of gold, which abounded more in that Eart of the continent than in the islands. In one of those excursions, the paniards contended with such eagerness about the division of some gold, that they were at the point of proceeding to acts of violence against one another. A young cazique who was present, astonished at the high value which they set upon a thing of which he did not discern the use, tumbled the gold out of the balance with indignation ; and turning to the Spaniards, " Why do you quarrel (says he) about such a trifle ? If you are so passion- ately fond of gold, as to abandon your own country, and to disturb the tranquillity of distant nations for its sake, I will conduct you to a region where the metal which seems to be the chief object of your admiration and desire is so common that the meanest utensils are formed of it." Transported with what they heard, Balboa and his companions inquired eagerly where this happy country lay, and how they might arrive at it. He informed them that at the distance of six suns, that is, of six days' journey, towards the south, they should discover another ocean, near to which this •wealthy kingdom was situated ; but if they intended to attack that powerful state, they must assemble forces far superior in number and strength to those with which they now appeared.! This was the first information which the Spaniards received concerning the great southern ocean, or the opulent and extensive country known after- wards by the name of Peru. Balboa had now before him objects suited to his boundless ambition, and the enterprising ardour of his genius. He immediately concluded the ocean which the cazique mentioned, to be that for which Columbus had searched without success in this part of America, in hopes of opening a more direct communication with the East Indies ; and he • p. Martyr, decad. p. 202. Ensayo Chronol. para la Hist, de la Florida, par de Gab. Cardenas, p. 1. Oviedo, lib. xvi. c. 11. Herrera, dec. 1. lib. ix. c. 5. Hist, de la Conq. de la Florida, par Garc. de la Vega, lib. 1. c. 3. t ilorrero, dec. 1. lib. ii. c, 2. Gomara, c. GO. P. Martyr, deid. dec. 1. lib. v. c. 12. « Ibid. lib. vlli. c. 9. I Ibid. lib. ix. c 5. IT Ibid. dec. 2. lib. U C.8. Vol. I.-15 7 114 H I S T O K Y F [Book lit inhabitants ot" anoclier region ; and in the warmth of his zeal to save the Americans irom the yoke, pronounced it to be lawful and expedient to impose one still heavier upon the \fricans. Unfortunately for the latter. Las Casas'a plan was adopted. Ch; rles granted a patent to one of his Flemish favour- ites, containing an exclusive right of importing four thousand negroes into America. The favourit'" sold his patent to some Genoese merchants tor twenty-five thousand ducats, and they were the first who brought into a regular form that commerce ibr slaves between Africa and America, which has since been carried on to such an amazing extent.* But the Genoese merchants [1518], conducting their operations, at first, with the rapacity of monopolists, demanded such a high price for negroes, that the number imported into Hispaniola made no great change upon the state of the colony. Las Casas, whose zeal was no less inventive than inde- fatigable, had recourse to another expedient for the relief of the Indians He observed, that most of the persons who had settled hitherto in America, were sailors and soldiers employed in the discovery or conquest cf the countiy ; the younger sons of noble families, allured by the prospect of acquiring sudden wealth ; or desperate adventurers, whom their indigence or crimes forced to abandon their native land. Instead of such men, who were dissolute, rapacious, and incapable of that sober persevering induc.ry which is requisite in forming new colonies, he proposed to supply the set- tlements in Hispaniola and other parts of the New World with a sufficient number of labourers and husbandmen, who should be allured by suitabloi premitims to remove thither. These, as they were accustomed to fatigue, would be able to perform the work to which the Indians, from the feebleness of their constitution, were unequal, and might soon become useful and oj^ulent citizens. But though Hispaniola stood much in need of a recruit ot inhabitants, having been visited at this time with the small-pox, which swept off almost all the natives who had survived their long continued op- pression ; and though Las Casas had the countenance of the Flemish ministers, this scheme was defeated by the bishop of Burgos, who thwarted all his projects.! Las Casas now despaired of procuring any relief for the Indians in those places where the Spaniards were already settled. The evil was become so inveterate there as not to admit of a cure. But such discoveries were daily making in the continent as gave a high idea botli ot its extent and populousness. In all those vast regions there was but one feeble colony planted ; and except a small spot on the isthmus of Darien, the natives still occupied the whole country. This opened a new and more ample field for the humanity and zeal of Las Casas, who flattered himself that he might prevent a pernicious system from being introduced there, though he had tailed of success in his attempts to overturn it where it was already esta- blished. Full of this idea, he applied for a grant of the unoccupied country stretching along the seacoast from the Gulf of Paria to the western frontier of that province now known by the name of Santa Martha. He proposed to settle there with a colony composed of husbandmen, labourers, and ecclesiastics. He engaged in the space of two years to civilize ten thousand <9f the natives, and to instruct them so thoroughly in the arts of social life, that from the t'ruits of their industry an annual revenue of fii'teen thousand ducats should arise to the king. In ten years ho expected that his improve- ments \vould be so far advanced as to yield annually sixty thousand ducats. He stipulated, that no soldier or sailor should ever be permitted to settle in this district ; and that no Spaniard whatever should enter it without his permission. He even projected to clothe the people whom he took along with him in some distinguishing garb, which did not resemble the Spanish dress, that they might appear to the natives to be a different race of men • Hurrera dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 30. t I^'J- *!««■ 2. lib. ii. c. 21. AMERICA. im IVom those who had brought so many calamities upon their country.* From this scheme, of which I have traced only the great lines, it is manifest that Las Casas had formed ideas concerning the method of treating (he Indians, similar to those by which the Jesuits afterwards carried on their great operations in another part of the same continent. He supposed that the Europeans, by availing themselves of that ascendant which they possessed in consequence of their superior progress in science and improvement, might gradually form the minds of the Americans to relish those comforts of which the/ were destitute, might train them to the arts of civil life, and render them capable of its functions. But to the bishop of Burgos, and the council of the Indies, this project, appeared not only chimerical, but dangerous in a high degree. They deemed the faculties of the Americans to be naturally so limited, and their indolence so excessive, that every attempt to instruct or to improve them would be fruitless. They contended, that it would be extremely imprudent to give the command of a country extending above a thousand miles along the coast to a fanciful presumptuous enthusiast, a stranger to the affairs of the world, and unacquainted with the arts of Government. Las Casas, far from being discouraged with a repulse, which he had reason to expect, had recourse once more to the Flemish favourites, who zealously patronized his scheme merely because it had been rejected by the Spanish ministers. They pre- vailed with their master, who had lately been raised to the Imperial dignity, to refer the consideration of this measure to a select number of his privy counsellors ; and Las Casas having- excepted against the members ot the council of the Indies, as partial and interested, they were all excluded. The decision of men chosen by recommendation of the Flemings was perfectly conformable to their sentiments. They warmly approved of Las Casas's plan, and gave orders for carrying it into execution, but restricted the territory allotted him to three hundred miles along (he coast of Cumana • allowing him, however, to extend it as far as he pleased towards the interior part of the country.! This determination did not pass uncensured. Almost every person who had been in the West Indies exclaimed against it, and supported their opinion so confidently, and with such plausible reasons, as made it advisable to pause and to review the subject more deliberately. Charles himself, thouo;h accustomed, at this early period of his life, to adopt the sentiments of his ministers with such submissive deference as did not promise that decisive vigoui of mind which distinguished his riper years, could not help suspecting that the eagerness with which the Flemings tr'>k part in every affair relating to America flowed from some improper motive, and began to discover an inclination to examine in person into the state of the question concerning the character of the Americans, and the proper manner of treating them. An opportunity of making this inquiry with great advantage soon occurred [June 20]. Quevedo, the bishop of Darien, who had accom- panied Pedrarias to the continent in the year one thousand five hundred and thirteen, happened to land at Barcelona, where the court then resided. It was quickly known that his sentiments concerning the talents and dis- position of the Indians diffisred from those of Las Casas : and Charles naturally concluded that by confronting two respectable persons, ^vho, during their residence in America, had full leisure to observe the manners of the people whom they pretended to describe, he might be able to discover which of them had formed his opinion with tlie greatest discern- ment and accuracy. A day for this solemn audience was appointed. The emperor appeared with extiaordinary pomp, and took his seat on a throne in the great hall of * Herrera, dec. 2. lib. iv. c. 2. t Gomata HiHt. Gcner. e. 77. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. Iv c. a Oviedo, lib. xix. c. 5. 116 HISTORY OF LBookIII. the palace. His principal courtiers attended. Don Diego Columbus, admiral of the Indies, was summoned to be present. The bishop of Darien was called upon first to deliver his opinion. He, in a short discourse, lamented the fatal desolation of America hj the extinction of so many of its inhabitants ; he acknowledged that this must be imputed, in some degree, to the extensive rigour and inconsiderate proceedings of the Spaniards ; but declai-ed that all the people of the New World whom he had seen, either in the continent or in the islands, appeared to him to be a race of men marked out, by the inferiority of their talents, for servitude, and whom it would be impossible to instruct or improve, unless they were kept under the continual inspection of a master. Las Casas, at greater length and with more fervour, defended his own system. He rejected with indignation the idea that any race of men was born to servitude as irreligious and inhuman. He asserted that the faculties of the Americans were not naturally despicable, but unimproved ; that they were capable of receiving- instruction in the principles of religion, as well as of acquiring the industry and arts which would quality them for the various oifices of social life ; that the mildness and timidity of their nature r'^ndered them so submissive and docile, that they might be led and formed with a gentle hand. He professed that his intentions in proposing the scheme now under considera tion were pure and disinterested ; and though from the accomplishment of his designs inestimable benefits would result to the crown of Castile, he never had claimed, nor ever would receive, any recompense on that account. Charles, after hearing both, and consulting with his ministers, did not think himself sufficiently inform-ed to establish any general arrangement with respect to the state of the Indians ; hvl "s he had perfect confidence in the integrity of Las Casas, and as even the bishop of Darien admitted h«s scheme to be of such importance that a trial should be made of its effects, he issued a patent [152:2], granting him the district of Cumana formerly mentioned, with full power to establish a colony there according to his own plan.* Las Casas pushed on the preparations for his voyage with his usual ardour. But, either from his own inexperience in the conduct of atlairs, or from the secret opposition of the bpanish nobility, who universally dread'^'d the success of an institution that might rob them of the industrious and useful hands which cultivated their estates, his progress in engaging husbandmen and labourers was extremely slow, and he could not prevail on more than two hundred to accompany him to Cumana. Nothing, however, could damp his zeal. With this slender train, hardly sufficient to take possession of such a large territory, and altogether unequal to any effectual attempt towards civilizing its inhabitants, he set sail. The first place at which he touched was the island of Puerto Rico. There he received an account of a new obitacle to tlie execution of his scheme, more iasuperable than any he had hitherto encountered. When he left America, in the year one thousand five hundred and sixteen, the Spaniards had little intercourse with any part of the continent except the countries adjacent to the Gulf of Darien. But as every species of internal industry began to stagnate in Hispaniola, when, by the rapid decrease of ♦he natives, the Spaniards were deprived of those hands with which they had hitherto carriod on their operations, this prompted them to try various expedients for supplying that loss. Considerable numbers of negroes were imported ; but, on account of their exorbitant price, many of the planters could not afford to purchase them. In order to procure slaves at an easier rate, soma of the Spaniards in Hispaniola fitted out vessels to cruise along the coast • H^rrera, dec. 2. lib. iv. c. 3, i, 5. Argcnsola Annalcs d'Aragon, 74. 97. Remisal Hist. Goner, lib. ii. c. 19, 20. AMERICA. 117 ol the continent. In places where they found themselves inferior in stren2;th, they traded with the natives, and gave European toys in exchange for die plates of gold worn by them as ornaments ; but, wherever they could surprise or overpower the Indians, they carried them off by force, and sold them as slaves.* In those predatory excursions such atrocious acts of violence and cruelty had been committed, that the Spanish name was held in detestation all over the continent. Whenever any ships appeared, the inhabitants either fled to the woods, or rushed down to the shore in arms to repel those hated disturbers of their tranquillity. They forced some parties of the Spaniards to retreat with precipitation ; they cut off bthers ; and in the violence of their resentment against the whole nation, they murdered two Dominican missionaries, whose zeal had prompted them to settle in the province of Cumana.t This outrage against persons revered for their sanctity excited such indignation among the people of Hispaniola, who, notwithstanding ail their licentious and cruel proceedings, were possessed with a wonderful zeal for religion, and a superstitious respect for its ministers, that they determined to inflict exemplary punishment, not only upon the jjerpetrators of that crime, but upon the whole race. With this view, they gave the command of live ships and three hundred men to Diego Ocampo, with orders to lay waste the country of Cumana with fire and sword, and to transport all the inhabitants as slaves to His- paniola. This armament Las Casas found at Puerto Rico, in its way to the continent ; and as Ocampo relused to defer his voyage, he immediately perceived that it would be impossible to attempt the execution of his pacific plan in a country destined to be the seatoi waranddesolation.J In order to provide against the effects of this unfortunate incident, he set sail directly for St. Domingo [April 12], leaving his followers cantoned out among the planters in Puerto Rico. From many concurring causes, the reception which Las Casas met with in Hispaniola was very unfavour- able. In his negotiations for the relief of the Indians, he had censured the conduct of his countrymen settled there with such honest severity as rendered him universally odious to them. They considered their own ruin as the inevitable consequence of his success. They were now elated with hope of receiving a large recruit of slaves from Cumana, which must be relinquished if Las Casas were assisted in settling his projected colony there. Figueroa, in consequence of the instructions which he had received in Spain, had made an experiment concerning the capacity of the Indians, that was represented as decisive against the system of Las Casas. He collected in Hispaniola a good number of the natives, and settled them in two villages, leaving them at perfect liberty, and with the uncontrolled direction of their own actions. But that people, accustomed to a mode of life extremely different from that which takes place wherever civiliza- tion has made any considerable progress, were incapable of assuming new habits at once. Dejected with their own misfortunes as well as those of their country, they exerted so little industiy in cultivating the ground, appeared so devoid of solicitude or foresight in providing for their own wants, and were such strangers to arrangement in conducting their affairs, that the Spaniards pronounced them incapable of being formed to live hke men in social life, and considered them as children, who should be kept under the perpetual tutelage of persons superior to themselves in wisdom and sagacity. § Notwithstanding all those circumstances, which alienated the persons in Hispaniola to whom Las Casas applied from himself and from his measures, he, by his activity and perseverance, by some concessions and many threats, obtained at length a small body of troops to protect him • Herrera, dec. 3. lib. ii. c. 3. t Oviedo, Hist. lib. xix. p. 3 J Heirera, dec. 2. lib. U. c. 8, 0. $ Ibid. doc. 2. lib. x c. i. 118 HISTORY OF [Book III. and his colony at their first landing. But upon his return to Puerto Rico, he found that the diseases of the climate had been fatal to several of his ?)eople ; and that others having got employment in that island, refused to bllow him. With the handful that remained, he set sail and landed in Cumana. Ocampo had executed his commission in that province with such barbarous rage, having massacred many of the inhabitants, sent others in chains to Hispaniola, and forced the rest to fly for shelter to the woods, that the people of a small colony, which he had planted at a place which he named Toledo, were ready to perish for want in a desolated country. There, however, Las Casas was obliged to fix his residence, though deserted both by the troops appointed to protect him, and by those under the command of Ocampo, who foresaw and dreaded the calamities to which he must be exposed in that wretched station. He made the best provision in his power for the safety and subsistence of his followers , lut as his utmost efforts availed little towards securing either the one or the other, he returned to Hispaniola, in order to solicit more effectual aid for the preservation of men who, from confidence in him, had ventured into a post of so much danger. Soon after his departurp, the natives, having discovered the feeble and defenceless state of the Spaniards, assembled secretly, attacked them with the furj- natural to men exasperated by many injuries, cut off a good number, and compelled the rest to fly in the utmost consternation to the island of Cubagua. The small colony settled there on account of the pearl fishery, catching the panic with which their coun- trymen had been seized, abandoned the island, and not a Spaniard remained in any part of the continent, or adjacent islands, from the Gulf of Paria to the borders of Darien. Astonished at such a succession of disasters, Las Casas was ashamed to show his face after this fatal termination of all his splendid schemes. He shut himself up in the convent of the Domini- cans at St. Domingo, and soon after assumed the habit of that order.* Though the expulsion of the colony from Cumana happened in the year one thousand five hundred and twenty-one, I have chosen to trace the progress of Las Casas's negotiations from their first rise to their final issue without interruption. His system was the object of long and attentive discussion ; and though his efforts in behalf of the oppressed Americans, partly fix^m his own rashness and imprudence, and partly from the malevolent opposition of his adversaries, were not attended with that success which he promised with too sanguine confidence, great praise is due to his humane activity, which gave rise to various regulations that were of some benefit to that unhappy people. I return now to the history of the Spanish discoveries as they occur in the order of time.f Diego Velasquez, who conquered Cuba in the year one thousand five hundred and eleven, still retained the government of that island, as the deputy of Don Diego Columbus, though he seldom acknowledged his supe- rior, and aimed at rendering his own authority altogether independent.^ Under his prudent administration, Cuba became one of the most flourishing of the Spanish settlements. The fame of this allured thither many persons from the other colonies, in hopes of finding either some permanent establish- ment or some employment for their activity. As Cuba lay to the west of all the islands occupied by the Spaniards, and as the ocean which stretches beyond it towards that quarter had not hitherto been explored, these circum- stances naturally invited the inhabitants to attempt new discoveries. An expedition tor this purpose, in which activity and resolution might conduct to sudden wealth, was more suited to the genius of the age than the patient industry requisite in clearing ground and manufacturing sugar. Instigated * Hencra, dec. 2. lib. t. c. 5. dec. 3. lib. ii. c. 3, 4, 5. Oviedo, Hist. lib. xix. c. 5. Gomara, c. T7. Davila Padilla, lib. i. c. 07. Rcmisal Hist. Gen. lib. zi. c, 22, 23, t Hcrrera. dec. 2. lib. z. c. 5. p. 329. ; Ibid, lib. 11. c. 19. AMERICA. 119 by this spirit, several officers, who had served under Pedrarias in Danen, entered into an association to undertake a voyage of discovery. They persuaded Franscisco Hernandez Cordova, an opulent planter in Cuba, and a man of distinguished courage, to join with them irthe adventure, and chose him to be their commander. Velasquez not only approved of tlie ■design, but assisted in carrymg it on. As the veterans from Darien were extremely mdigent, he and Cordova advanced money for ptirchasing three small vessels, and furnished them with every thing requisite either for tratfic or ibr war. A hundred and ten men embarked on board of them, and sailed from St. Jago de Cuba, on the eighth of February, one thou- sand five hundred and seventeen. By the advice of their chief pilot, Antonio Alaminos, who had served under the first admiral Columbus, they stood directly west, relying on the opinion of that great navigator, who uniformly maintained that a westerly course would lead to the most important discoveries. On the twenty-first day after their departure from St. Jago, they saw land, which proved to be Cape Catoche, the eastern point of that large peninsula projecting from the continent of America, which still retains its original name of Yucatan. As they approached the shore, five canoes came off full of people decently clad in cotton garments ; an astonishing spectacle to the Spaniards, who had found every other part of America possessed by naked savages. Cordova endeavoured by small presents to gain the good will of these people. They, though amazed at the strange objects now pre- sented for the first time to their view, invited the Spaniards to visit their habitations, with an appearance of cordiality. They landed accordingly, and as they advanced into the country, they observed with new wonder some large houses built with stone. But they soon found that, if the people of Yucatan had made progress in improvement beyond their coun- trymen, they were likewise more artful and warlike. For though the cazique had. received Cordova with many tokens of friendship, he had posted a considerable body of his subjects in ambush behind a thicket, who, upon a signal given by him, rushed out and attacked the Spaniards with great boldness, and some degree of martial order. At the first flight of their arrows, fifteen of the Spaniards were wounded ; but the Indians were struck with such terror by the sudden explosion of the fire arms, and so surprised at the execution done by them, by the cross bows, and by the other weapons of their new enemies, that they fled precipitately. Cordova quitted a country where he had met widi such a fierce reception, carrying off two prisoners, together with the ornaments of a small temple which he plundered in his retreat. He continued his course towards the west, without losing sight of the coast, and on the sixteenth day arrived at Campcachy. There the natives re- ceived them more hospitably; but the Spaniards were much surprised, that on all the extensive coast along which they had sailed, and which they imagined to be a large island, they had not observed any river [26]. As their water had began to fail, they advanced, in hopes of finding a supply ; and at length they discovered the mouth of a river at Potonchan, some leagues beyond Campeachy. Cordova landed all his troops, in order to protect the sailors while em- ployed in filling the casks ; but notwithstanding this precaution, the natives rushed down upon them with such fury and in such numbers, that forty- seven of the Spaniards were killed upon the spot, and one man only of the whole body escaped unhurt. Their commander, though wounded in twelve different places, directed the retreat with presence of mind equal to_ the courage with which he had led them on in the engagement, and with much difficulty they regained their ships. After this fatal repulse, nothing remained but to hasten back to Cuba with their shattered forces. In their passage thither they sufifered the most exquisite distress for want 120 HISTORY OF [Book III. of water, that men, wounded and sickly, shut up in small vessels, and ex posed to the heat of the torrid zone, can bi^ supposed to endure. Some of them, sinkiii hom Cordova had Drought from Yucatan, had hitherto served as interpreters ; but as they did not understand the language of this country, the Spaniards learned from the natives by signs, that they were subjects of a great monarch called Montezuma, whose dominions extended over that and many other provinces Leaving this place, with which he had so much reason to be pleased, Grijalva continued his course towards the west. He landed on a small island [June 19], which he named the Isle of Sacrifices, because there the Spaniards beheld, for the first time, the horrid spectacle of human victims, which the barbarous superstition of the natives offered to their gods. J" it touched at another small island, which he called St. Juan de Ulua. From this place he despatched Pedro de Alvarado, one of his officers, to Velasquez, with a full account of the important discoveries which he had made, and with all the treasure that he acquired by trafficking with the natives. After the departure of Alvarado, he himself, with the remaining vessels, proceeded along the coast as far as the river Panuco,the country still ap- pearing to be well peopled, fertile, and opulent. Several of Grijalva's officers contended that it was not enough to havfe discovered those delightful regions, or to have performed, at their different landing-places, the empty ceremony of taking possession of them for the crown of Castile, and that their glory was incomplete, unless they planted a colony in some proper station, which might not only secure the Spanish nation a footing in the country, but, with the reinforcements which they were certain of receiving, might gradually subject the whole to the dominion of their sovereign. But the squadron had now been above five months at sea ; the greatest part of their provisions was exhausted, and what remained of their stores so much corrupted by the heat of the climate, as to be almost unfit for use ; they had lost some men by death ; others were sickly ; the country was crowded with people who seemed to be intelligent as well as brave ; and they were under the government of one powerfiil monarch, who could bring them to act against their invaders with united force. To plant a colony under so many circumstances of disadvantage, appeared a scheme too perilous to be attempted. Grijalva, though possessed both of ambition and courage, was destitute of the superior talents capable of fonning or executing such a great plan. He judged it more prudent to return to Cuba, having fulfilled the purpose of his voyage, and accomplished all that the armament which he commanded enabled him to perform. He returned to St. Jago de Cuba, on the twenty-sixth of October, from which he had taken his departure about six months before.* This was the longest as well as the most successful voyage which the Spaniards had hitherto made in the New World. They had discovered that Yucatan was not an island as they had supposed, but part of the great * Herrera, dec. 11. lib. iil. c. 1, 2. 9, 10. Bernal Diaz, e. 8. 17. Oviedo HiBt. lib. xvii. c. 9. Vi Gomara, c. 49 Vol. I.--16 123 HISTORY OF [Book IV. continent of America. From Potonchan they had pursued their course for many hundred miles along a coast formerly unexplored, stretching at first towards the west, and then turning to the north ; all the country which they had discovered appeared to he no less valuable than extensive. As soon as Alvarado reached Cuba, Velasquez, transported with success so far beyond his most sanguine expectations, immediately despatched a person of confidence to carry this important intelligence to Spain, to exhibit the rich productions of the countries which had been discovered by his means, and to solicit such an increase of authority as might enable and encourage him to attempt the conquest of them. Without waiting for the return of his messenger, or for the arrival of Grijalva, of whom he was become so jealous or distrustful that he was resolved no longer to employ him, he began to prepare such a powerful armament as might prove equal to an enterprise of so much danger and importance. But as the expedition upon which Velasquez was now intent terminated in conquests of greater moment than what the Spaniards had hitherto achieved, and led them to the knowledge of a people, who, if compared with those tribes of America with whom they were hitherto acquainted, may be considered as highly civilized ; it is proper to pause before we proceed to the history of events extremely different from those which we have already related, in order to take a view of the state of the New World when first discovered, and to contemplate the policy and manners of the rude uncultivated tribes that occupied all the parts of it with which the Spaniards were at this time acquainted. BOOH IV. Twenty-six years had elasped since Columbus had conducted the people of Europe to the New World. During that period the Spaniards had made great progress in exploring its various regions. They had visited all the islands scattered m different clusters through that part of the ocean which flows in between North and South America. They had sailed along the eastern coast of the continent from the river De la Plata to the bottom of the Mexican Gulf, and had found that it stretched without interruption through this vast portion of the globe. They had discovered the great Southern Ocean, which opened new prospects in that quarter. They had acquired some knowledge of the coast of Florida, which led them to observe the continent as it extended in an opposite direction; and though they pushed their discoveries no further towards the North, other nations had visited those parts which they neglected. The English, in a voyage the motives and success of which shall be related in another part of this History, had sailed along the coast of America from Labrador to the confines of Florida ; and the Portuguese, in quest of a shorter passage to the East Indies, had ventured into the northern seas, and vieHved the same regions.* Thus, at the period where I have chosen to take a view of the state of tlic New W^orld, its extent was known almost from its northern extremity to thirty-five degrees south of the equator. The countries which stretch from thence to the southern boundary of America, the great empire of Peru, and the interior state of the extensive dominions subject to the sovereigns of Mexico, were still undiscovered. ♦ Horrera, dec. 1. lib. vl c 10 AMERICA. 123 When we contemplate the New World, the first circumstance that strikes us is its immense extent. It was not a small portion of the earth, so inconsiderable that it might have escaped the observation or research oi former ages, which Columbus discovered. He made known a new henriisphere, larger ihan either Europe, or Asia, or Africa, the three noted divisions of the ancient continent, and not much inferior in dimensions to a third part of the habitable globe. America is remarkable, not only for its magnitude, but for its position. It stretches from the northern polar circle to a high southern latitude, above fifteen hundred miles beyond the furthest extremity of the old continent on that side of the line. A country of such extent passes through all the climates capable of becoming the habitation of man, and fit ior yielding the various productions peculiar either to the temperate or to the torrid regions of the earth. Next to the extent of the New World, the grandeur of the objects which it presents to view is most apt to strike the eye of an observer. Nature seems here to have carried on her operations upon a larger scale and with a bolder hand, and to have distinguished the features ot this country by a peculiar magnificence. The mountains in America are much superior in height to those in the other divisions of the globe. Even the plain of Quito, which may be considered as the base of the Andes, is elevated further above the sea than the top of the Pyrenees. This stupendous ridge of the Andes, no less remarkable for extent than elevation, rises in dinerent places more than one-third above the Peak of Teneriffe, the highest land in the ancient hemisphere. The Andes may literally be said to hide their heads in the clouds ; the stonns often roll, and the thunder bursts below their summits, which, though exposed to the rays of the sun in the centre of the torrid zone, are covered with everlasting snows [28], From these lot'ty mountains descend rivers, proportionably large, with which the streams in the ancient continent are not to be compared, either for length of course, or the vast body of water which they roll towards the ocean. The Maragnon, the Orinoco, the Plata in South America, the Mississippi and St. Laurence in North America, flow in such spacious channels, that long before they feel the influence of the tide, they resemble arms of the sea rather than rivers of fresh water [29], The lakes of the New World are no less conspicuous for grandeur than its mountains and rivers. There is nothing in other parts of the globe which resembles the prodigious chain of laKes in North America. They may properly be termed inland seas of fresh water ; and even those of the second or third class in magnitude are of larger circuit (the Caspian Sea excepted) than the greatest lake of the ancient continent. The New World is of a form extremely favourable to commercial inter- course. When a continent is formed, like Africa, of one vast solid mass, unbroken by arms of the sea penetrating into its interior parts, with few large rivers, and those at a considerable distance from each other, the freater part of it seems destined to remain for ever uncivilized, and to be ebarred from any active or enlarged communication with the rest of mankind. When, like Europe, a continent is opened by inlets of the ocean of great extent, such as the Mediterranean and Baltic; or when, like Asia, its coasts is broken by deep bays advancing far into the country, such as the Black Sea, the Gulfs of Arabia, of Persia, of Bengal, of Siam, and of Leotang ; when the surrounding seas are filled with large and fertile islands, and the continent itself watered with a variety of navigable rivers, those regions may be said to possess whatever can facilitate the progress of their mhabitants in commerce and improvement. In all these respects America may bear a comparison with the other quartei-s of the globe. The Gulf of Mexico, which flows in between North and South America, may be considered as a Meditenanean sea, which opens a maritime commerce 124 HISTORY OF [Book IV. with all the fertile countries by which it is encircled. The islands scattered in it are inferior only to those in the Indian Archipelago, in number, in magnitude, and in value. As we stretch along the northern division of the American hemisphere, the Bay of Chesapeak presents a spacious inlet, which conducts the navigator far into the interior parts ot provinces no less fertile than extensive ; and if ever the progress of culture and population shall mitigate the extreme rigour of the climate in the more northern districts of America, Hudson's Bay may become as subservient to commercial intercourse in that quarter of*^ the globe, as the Baltic is in Europe. The other great portion of the New World is encompassed on every side by the sea, except one narrow neck which separates the Atlantic from the Pacific Ocean ; and though it be not opened by spacious bays or arms of the sea, its interior parts are rendered accessible by a number of large rivers, fed by so many auxiliary streams, flowing in such various directions, that almost without any aid from the hand of industry and art, an inland navigation may be carried on through all the provinces from the river De la Plata totheGulfof Paria. Nor is thisbounty of nature confined to the southern division of America ; its northern continent abounds no less in rivers which are navigable almost to their sources, and by its immense chain of lakes provision is made for an inland communication, more extensive and commodious than in any quarter of the globe. T he countries stretching from the Gulf of Darien on one side, to that of California on the other, which form the chain that binds the two parts of the American continent together, are not destitute of peculiar advantages. Their coast on one side is washed by the Atlantic Ocean, on the other by the Pacific. Some of their rivers flow into the former, some into the latter, and secure to them all the commercial benefits that may result from a communication with both. But what most distinguishes America from other parts of the earth is the peculiar temperature of its climate, and the different laws to which it is subject with respect to the distribution of heat and cold. We cannot determine with precision the portion of heat felt in any part of the globe, merely by measuring its distance from the equator. The climate of a country is affected, in some degree, by its elevation above the sea, by the extent of continent, by the nature of the soil, the height of adjacent moun- tains, and many other circumstances. The influence of these, however, is from various causes less considerable in the greater part of the ancient continent ; and from knowing the position of any country there, we can pronounce with greater certainty what will be the warmth of its climate, and the nature of its productions. The maxims which are founded upon observation of our hemisphere will not apply to the other. In the New World, cold predominates. The rigour of the frigid zone extends over half of those regions which should be temperate by their position. Countries where the grape and the fig should ripen, are buried under snow one half of the year ; and lands situated in the same parallel with the most fertile and best cultivated provinces in Europe, are chilled with perpetual frosts, which almost destroy the power of vegetation [30]. As we advance to those parts of America which lie in the same parallel with provinces of Asia and Africa, blessed with a uniform enjoyment of such genial warmth as is most friendly to life and to vegetation, the dominion of cold continues to be felt, and winter reigns, though during a short period, with extreme severity. If we proceed along the American continent into the torrid zone, we shall find the cold prevalent in the New World extending itself also to this region of the globe, and mitigating the excess of its fervour. While the negro on the coast of Africa is scorched with unremitting heat, the inhabitant of Peru breathes an air equally mild and temperate, and is perpetually shaded under a canopy of gray clouds, which intercepts the fierce beaons of the AMERICA. 12^ sun, without obstructing his friendly influence.* Along the eastern coast of America, the climate, though more similar to that of the torrid zone in other parts of the earth, is nevertheless considerably milder than in those countries of Asia and Africa which lie in the same latitude. If from the southern tropic we continue our progress to the extremity of the American continent, we meet with frozen seas, and countries horrid, barren, and scarcely habitable for cold, much sooner than in the north.j Various causes combine in rendering the climate of America so extremely different from that of the ancient contment. Though the utmost extent of America towards the north be not yet discovered, we know that it advances much nearer to the pole than either Europe or Asia. Both these have large seas to the north, which are open during part of the year ; and even when covered with ice, the wind that blows over them is less intensely cold than thai which blows over land in the same high latitudes. But in America the land stretches from the river St. Laurence towards the pole, and spreads out immensely to the west. A chain of enormous mountains covered with snow and ice, runs through all this dreary region. The wind, in passing over such an extent of high and frozen land, becomes so impregnated with cold, that it acquires a piercing keenness, which it retains in its progress through warmer climates, and it is not entirely mitigated until it reach the Gulf of Mexico. Over all the continent of North America, a north-westerly wind and excessive cold are synonymous terms. Even in the most sultry weather, the moment that the wind veers to that quarter, its penetrating influence is felt in a transition from heat to cold no less violent than sudden. To this powerful cause we may ascribe the extraordinary dominion of cold, and its violent inroads into the southen? provinces, in that part of the globe. J Other causes, no less remarkable, diminish the active power of heat in those parts of the American continent Avhich lie between the tropics. In all that portion of the globe, the wind blows in an invariable direction from east to west. As this wind holds its course across the ancient con- tinent, it arrives at the countries which stretch along the western shores of Africa, inflamed with all the fiery particles which it hath collected from the sultiy plains of Asia, and the burning sands in the African deserts. The coast of Africa is, accordingly, the region of the earth which feels the most fervent heat, and is exposed to the unmitigated ardour of the torrid zone But this same wind, which brings such an accession of warmth to the countries lying between the river of Senegal and Cafraria, traverses the Atlantic Ocean before it reaches the American shore. It is cooled in its passage over this vast body of water, and is felt as a refreshing gale alon^ the coast of Brazil [3l], and Guiana, rendering these countries, though among the warmest in America, temperate, when compared with those which lie opposite to them in Africa [32]. As this wind advances in its course across America, it meets with immense plams covered with impe- netrable forests, or occupied by large rivers, marshes, and stagnating waters, where it can recover no considerable degree of heat. At length it arrives at the Andes, which run from north to south through the whole continent. In passing over their elevated and frozen summlis, it is so thoroughly cooled, that the greater part of the countries beyond them hardly feel the ardour to which they seem exposed by their situation.§ In the ether provinces of America, irora Tierra Ferme westward to the Mexican empire, the heat of the climate is tempered, in some places, by the elevation of the land above the sea, in others, by their extraordinary * Voyage de Ulloa, torn. i. p. 453. Anson's Voyage, p.l81. t Anson's Voyige, p. 74 ; and Voyage de Ciairos, chez. Hist. Gen. des Voy/>i!es, torn. liv. p. 83. Kichard Hist. Naturj de I'Air, ii. 305, &.C. + Charlevoii Hist, de Nouv. Fr. iii. 165. Hist. General^ des Voyages, torn, xv 215, .tc. ^ Aco.sta Hist. Novi Orbis, lib. ii. c. II. Biiflbn Hist. Naturclle, &c. torn. ii. 512, &o, Ix. 107, &,c. Obborn's Collect, of Voyages, ii. p. 8t)d. 12« HISTORY OF [Book IV. humidity, and in all, by tlie enormous mountains scattered over this tract. The islands of America in the torrid zone are either small or mountainous, and are fanned alternat'^ly by refreshing sea and land breezes. The causes of the extraordinary cold towards the southern limits of America, and in the seas beyond it, cannot be ascertained in a manner equally satisfying. It was long supposed that a vast continent, distin- guished by the name of Terra Australis Incognita, lay between the southern extremity of America and the Antarctic pole. The same prin- ciples >. ijich account for the extraordinary degree of cold in the northern regions of America, were employed in order to explain that Avhich is felt at Cape Horn and the adjacent countries. The immense extent of the southern continent, and the large ri\ers whl'-h it poured into the ocean, were mentioned and admitted by philosophers as causes sufficient to occa- sion the unusual sensai-ion of cold, and the still more uncommon appearances of frozen seas in that region of the globe. But the imaginary continent to which sue ' influence was ascribed, having been searched for in vain, and the space which it was supposed to occupy having been ibund to be an open sea, new conjectures must be formed with respect to the causes of a tem- perature of climate, so extremely different from that which we experience in countries removed at the same distance from the opposite pole [33]. After contemplating those permanent and characteristic qualities of the American continent, which arise fr'rm the peculiarity of its situation, and the disposition of its parts, the next object that merits attention is its condition when first discovered, as far as that depended upon the industry and operations of man. The effects of human ingenuity and labour are more extensive and considerable than even our own vanity is apt at first to imagine. When we survey the face of the habitable globe, no small part of that fertility and beauty which we ascribe to the hand of nature, is the work of man. His eflbrts, when continued through a succession of ages, change the appearance and improve the qualities of the earth. As a great part of the ancient continent has long been occupied by nations far advanced in arts and industry, our eye is accustomed to view the earth in that form which it assumes when rendered fit to be the residence of a numerous race of men, and to supply them with nourishment. But in the New World, the state of mankind was ruder, and the aspect of nature extremely different. Throughout all its vast regions, there were only two monarchies remarkable for extent of territory, or distinguished by any progress in improvement. The rest of this continent was possessed by small independent tribes, destitute of arts and industry, and neither capable to correct the defects nor desirous to meliorate the condition of hat part of the earth allotted to them for their habitation. Countries occupied by such people were almost in the same state as if they had been without inhabitants. Immense forests covered a great part of the uncultivated earth ; and as the hand of industry had not taught the rivers to run in a proper channel, or drained off the stagnating wr. ter, many of the most fertile plains were overflowed with inundations, or converted into marshes. In the southern provinces, where the warmth of the sun, the moisture of the climate, and the fertility of the soil, combine in calling forth the most vigorous powers of vegetation, the woods are so choked with its rank luxuriance as to be almost impervious, and the surface of the ground is hid from the eye under a thick covering of shrubs and herbs and weeds. In this state of wild unassisted nature, a great part of the large provinces in South America, which extend from the bottom of the Andes to the sea, still remain. The European colonies have cleared and cultivated a few spots along the coast ; but the original race of inhabitants, as rude and indolent as ever, have done nothing to open or improve a country possessing almost every advantage of situation and climate. As we advance towards the northern provinces of America, nature continues AMERICA. 127 to wear the same uncultivated aspect, and, in proportion as the rigour of the climate increasto, appears more desolate and horrid. There the forests, though not encumbered with the same exuberance of vegetation, are of immense extent ; prodigious marshes overspread the plains, and few marks appear of human activity in any attempt to cultivate or embellish the eart' • No wonder that the colonies sent from Europe were astonished ai their first entrance into the New World. It appeared to fhem waste, solitary, and uninviting. When the English began to settle in America, they termed the countries of which they took possession, The Wilderness. Nothing but their eager expectation of finding mines of gold could have induced the Spaniards to penetrate through the woods and marshes of America, where at every step they observed the extreme difference between the uncultivated face of nature, and that which it acquires under the forming hand of industry and art [34]. The labour and operations of man not only improve and embellish the earth, but render it more wholesome and Triendiy to life. When any region lies neglected and destitute of cultivation, the air stagnates in the woods ; putrid 'exhalations arise from the waters ; the surface of the earth, loaded with rank vegetation, feels not the purifying influence of the sun or of the wind ; the malignity of the distempers natural to the climate increases, and new malad'es no less noxious are engendered. Accordingly, all the provinces of America, when first discovered, were found to be remiii-kably unhealthy. This the Spaniards experienced in every expedi- tion into the New World, whether destined for conquest or settlement. Though by the natural constitution of their bodies, their habitual tem- S)erance, and the persevering vigour of their minds, thev were as much brmed as any people in Europe for active service in a sultry climate, they felt severely the fatal and pernicions qualities of those uncultivated regions through which they marched, or where they endeavoured to plant colonies. Great numbers were cut off by the unknown and violent diseases with which they were infected. Such as survived the destructive rage of those maladies, were not exempted from the noxious influence of the climate. They returned to Europe, according to the description of the early Spanish historians, feeble, emaciated, with languid looks, and complexions of such a sickly yellow colour as indicated the unwholesome temperature of the countries where they had resided.* The uncultivated state of the New World affected not only the tem- f)erature of the air, but the qualities of its productions. The principle of ife seems to have been less active and vigorous there than in the ancient continent. Notwithstanding the vast extent of America, and the variety of its climates, the different species of animals peculiar to it are much fewer in proportion than those of the other hemisphere. In the islands there were only four kinds of quadrupeds known,, the largest of which did not exceed the size of a rabbit. On the continent, the variety was greater; and though the individuals of each kind could not fail of multi- plying exceedingly when almost unmolested by men, who were neither so numerous, nor so united in society, as to be formidable enemies to the animal creation, the number of distinct species must still be considered as extremely small. Of two hundred different kinds of animals spread over the face of the earth, only about one-third existed in America at the time of its discovery .f Nature was not only less prolific in the New World, but she appears likewise to have been less vigorous in bor pro- ductions. The animals originally belonging lo this quarter of the globe appear to be of an inferior race, neither so robust nor so fierce as those of the other continent. America gives birth to no creature of such bulk as • Oomara Hist. c. 20. 22. Oviedo Hist. lib. ii. c. 13. lib- v. c. 10. P. Martyr, Epist. 545. Decad. p. 17C. t Butfon Hist. Natuxclle, torn. ix. p. 66. 128 HISTORY OF [Book IV. to be compared with the elephant or rhinoceros, or that equals the lion and tiger m strength and ferocity [35]. The Tapyr of Brazil, the lai^est quadruped of the ravenous tribe in the New World, is not larger than a calf of six months old. The Puma and Jaguar, ils fiercest beasts of prey, which Europeans have inaccurately denominated lions and tigers, possess neither the undaunted courage of the former, nor the ravenous cruelty of the latter.* They are inactive and timid, hardly formidable to man, and often turn their backs upon the least appearance of resistance.! The same qualities in the climate of America v\'hich stinted the growth, and enfeebled the spirit, of its native animals, have proved pernicious to such as have migrated into it voluntarily from the other continent, or have been transportea thither by the Europeans.;}; The bears, the wolves, the deer of America, are not equal in size to those of the Old World.§ Most of the domestic animals, with which the Europeans have stored the pro- vinces wherein they settled, have degenerated with respect either to bulk or quality, in a country whose temperature and soil seem to be less favour- able to the strength and perfection of the animal creation [36]. The same causes which checked the growth and the vigour of the more noble animals, were friendly to the propagation and increase oi reptiles and insects. Though this is not peculiar to the New World, and those odious tribes, nourished by heat, moisture, and corruption, infest every part of the torrid zone ; they multiply fastei*, perhaps, in America, and grow to a more monstrous bulk. As this country is on the whole less cultivated and less peopled than the other quarters of the earth, the active principle of life wastes its force in productions of this inferior form. The air is often darkened with clouds of insects, and the ground covered with shocking and noxious reptiles. The country around Porto Bello swarms with toads in such multitudes as hide the surface of the earth. At Guaya- quil, snakes and vipers are hardly less numerous. Carthagena is infested with numerous flocks of bats, which annoy not only the cattle but the inhabitant3.ll In the islands, legions of ants have at different times con- sumed every vegetable production [37], and left the earth entirely bare as if it had been burned with fire. The damp forests and rank soil ot the countries on the banks of the Orinoco and Maragnon teem with almost every offensive and poisonous creature which the power of a sultry sun can quicken into life. II The birds of the New World are not distinguished by qualities so con- spicuous and characteristical as those which we have observed in its quad- rupeds. Birds are more independent of man, and less affected by the changes which his industry and labour make upon the state of the earth. They have a greater propensity to migrate from one country to another, and can gratify this instinct of their nature without difficulty or danger. Hence the number of birds common to both continents is much greater than that of quadrupeds ; and even such as are peculiar to America nearly resemble those with which mankind were acquainted in similar regions of the ancient hemisphere. The American birds of the torrid zone, like those of the same climate in Asia and Africa, are decked in plumage which dazzles the eye with the beauty of its colours ; but nature, satisfied with clothing them in this gay dress, has denied most of them that melody of sound and variety of notes which catch and delight the ear. The birds of the tem- perate climates there, in the same maniier as in our continent, are less ♦ Buffon Hist. Natur. tom. ix. p. 87. Maregravii Hist. Nat. Brazil, p. 229. t Buffon Hist. Nalur. ix. 13. 203. Acosta Hist. lib. iv.c. 34. Pisonis Hist. p. 6. Herrera, dec. 4. lib. iv. c. 1. lib. s.c.lX t Churchill, V. p. 691. Ovalle Relat. otXnili, Church, iii. p. 10. Somario de Oviedo, c- J4— 22. Voyage du Des Marchais, iii. 299. § Buffon Hist. Natur. ix. 103. Kalm's Travels i. 102. Biet. voy. de France Equinox, p. 339. || Vovage de UUoa, lorn. i. p. 69. lb. p 147. Herrera, dec. 11. lib. iii. c. 3. 19. IT Voyage de Condaniine, p. 167. Guniilla, iii. 120, &c. Hist. «eiier. des Voyajes, xiv. 317. Duinont Mimoires sur la Louisiane, i. 108. Somario de Oviedo, c 52—63. A Bl E K 1 C A. 129 splendid in their appearance ; but, in compensation for that defect, they have voices of greater compass, and more melodious. In some districts of America, the unwholesome tempernture of the air seems to be un- favo'iral)le even to this part of tlie creation. The number of birds is less than in other countries, and the traveller is struck with the amazing solitude and silence of its forests.* It is remarkable, however, that America, where the quadrupeds are so dwarfish and dastardly, should produce the Condor which is entitled to pre-eminence over all the Hying tribe, in bulk, in strength, and in courage. f The soil in a continent so extensive as America must, of course, be extremely various. In each of its provinces we find some distinguishing peculiarities, the description of which belongs to those who write their particular history. In general we may observe, that the moisture and cold, which predominate so remarkably in all parts of America, must have great influence upon the nature of its soil ; countries lying in the same parallel with those regions which never feel the extreme rigour of winter in the ancient continent, are frozen over in America during a great part of the year. Chilled by this intense cold, the ground never acquires warmth sufficient to ripen the fruits which are found in the corresponding parts of the other continent. If we wish to rear in America the productions which abound in any particular district of the ancient world, Ave must advance several degrees nearer to the line than in the other hemisphere, as it requires such an increase of heat to counterbalance the natural frigidity of the soil and climate [3y]. At the Cape of Good Hope, several of the plants and fruits peculiar to the countries within the tropics are cultivated with success ; whereas, at St. Augustine in Florida, and Charles Town in South Carolina, though considerably nearer the line, they cannot be brought to thrive with equal certainty [39], But, if allowance be made for this diversity in the degree of heat, the soil of America is naturally as rich and fertile as in any part of the earth. As the country was thinly inhabited, and by a people of little industry, who had none of the domestic animals which civilized nations rear in such vast numbers, the earth was not ex- hausted by their consumption. The vegetable productions, to which the fertility of the soil gave birth, often remained untouched, and, being suffered to corrupt on its surface, returned with increase into its bosom. J As treeg and plants derive a great part of their nourishment from air and water ; if they were not destroyed by man and other animals, they would render to the earth more, perhaps, than they take from it, and feed rather than impoverish it. Thus the unoccupied soil of America may have gone on enriching for many ages. The vast number as well as enormous size of the trees in America, indicate the extraordinary vigour of the soil in its native state. When the Europeans first began to cultivate the New World, they were astonished at the luxuriant power of vegetation in its vii-gin mould ; and in several places the ingenuity of the planter is still employed in diminishing and wasting its superfluous fertility, in order to bring it down to a state fit for profitable culture§ [40]. Havmg thus surveyed the state of the New World at the time of its discover}', and considered the peculiar features and qualities which dis- tinguish and characterize it, the next inquiry that merits attention is, How was America peopled ? By what course did mankind migrate from the one continent to the other ? And in what quarter is it most probable that a communication was opened between them ? We know, with infallible certainty, that all the human race spring from * Bouguer Voy. au Perou, 17. Chanvalon Voyaae A la Martinlqvie, p. 9fi. Warren's Descript. Surinam. Osborii's Collect, ii. 924. Leltres Edif. .xxiv, p. 339. Cliarlev. Hist, do la Nouv. France, Hi. IS.'). t Vnyajie de Ulloa, i. 363. Voyage de Condamino, 17'). Butfoii llial. Nat. xvi- 134. Voyage dii Dr^ Marchais, iii. 320. J Bufton, Hist. Natur. i.242. Kalm, i. l.'il. ^ Chnilcvoix, Hift an Nouv. Fran. iii. 405. Voyage du Dta Marchais, iii. 229. Lery ap. de Bry. part iii. p. 174. Vol. I.— 17 130 HISTORY OF [Book IV. the same source, and that the descendants of one man, under the protection, as well as in obedience to the command of Heaven, muitiplied and replenished the earth. But neither the annals nor the traditions of nations reach [jack to those remote ages, in which they tO(jk possession of the different countries where they are now settled. We cannot trace the branches of this lirst family, or point out with certainty the time and manner in which they divided and spread over the face of the globe Even among the most enlightened people, the period of authentic history is extremely short ; and ever}' thing prior to that is fabulous or obscure. It is not surprising, then, that the unlettered uihabitants of America, who have no solicitude about futurity, and little curiosity concerning what is passed, should be altogether unacquainted with their own original. The people on the two opposite coasts of America, who occupy those countries in America which approach nearest to the ancient continent are so remarkably rude, that it is altogether vain to search among them lor such information as might discover the place from whence they came, or the ancestor of whom they are descended.* Whatever light hrs been thrown on this sulyect is derived not from the natives of America, but from the inquisitive genius of their conquerors. When the people of Europe unexpectedly discovered a New Woild, removed at a vast distance from every part ot the ancient continent which was then known, and filled with inhabitants whose appearance and manners diflered remarkably from the rest of the human species, the question con- cerning their original became naturally an object of curiosity and atten- tion. The theories and speculations of ingenious men with respect to this subject, would fill many volumes; but are often so wild and chi- merical, that I should otHer an insult to thv, understanding of my readers, if I attempted either minutely to enumerate or to refute them. Some have presumptuously imagined, that the people of America were not the offspring of the same common parent with the rest of mankind, but that they formed a separate race of men, distinguishable by peculiar features in the consti- tution of their bodies, as well as in the characteristic qualities of their minds. Others contend, that they are descended from some remnant of the antediluvian inhabitants of the earth, who survived the deluge which swept away the greatest part of the human species in the days of Noah ; and preposterously suppose rude, uncivilized tribes, scattered over an un- cultivated continent, to be the most ancient race of people on the earth. There is hardly any nation from the north to the south pole, to which some antiquary, in the extravagance of conjecture, has not ascribed the honour of peopling America. The Jews, the Canaanites, the Phoenicians, the Carthaginians, the Greeks, the Scythians, in ancient times, are supposed to have settled in this western world. The Chinese, the Swedes, thvi Nor- wegians, the Welsh, the Spaniards, are said to have sent colonies thither in later ages, at different periods and o.i various occasions. Zealous advo- cates stand forth to support the respective claims of those people ; and though they rest upon no better tbundation than the casual resemblance of some customs, or the supposed affinity between a lew words in their dif- ferent languages, much erudition and more zeal have been employed, to little purpose, in defence of the opposite systems. Those regions of conjec- ture and controversy belong not to the historian. His is a more limited piovince, confined by what is established by certain or highly probable evidence. Beyond this I shall not venture, in offering a few observations which may contribute to throw some light upon this curious and much agitated question 1. There are authors who have endeavoured by mere conjecture to account for the peopling of America. Some have supppsed that it was • Vinegas's Hist, of California, i. 60. A xM E R I C A. 131 ongmally united to the ancient continent, and disjoined from it by tiie shock of an eartliquake, or the irruption of a dehjge. Others have ima- gined, that some vessel being forced from its course by the violence of a -westerly wind, might be driven by accident towards the American coast, and have given a beginning to population in that desolate continent.* But with respect to all those systems, it is in vain either to reason or inquire, because it is impossible to come to any decision. Such events as they suppose are barely possible, and may have happened. That they ever did happen, we have no evidence, either from the clear testimony of history, or from the obscure intimations of tradition. 2. Nothmg can be more irivolous or uncertain than the attempts to dis- cover the original of the Americans merely by tracing the resemblance between their manners and those of any particular people in the ancient continent. It' we suppose two tribes, though placed in the most remote regions of the globe, (olive in a climate nearly of the same temperature, to be in the same state of society, and to resemble each other in the degree of their improvement, they must feel the same wants, and exert the same endeavours to supply them. The same objects will allure, the same passions will animate them, and the same ideas and sentiments Avill arise in their minds. The character and occupations of the hunter in Ame- rica must be little different from those of an Asiatic who depends for sub- sistence on tlie chase. A tribe of savages on the banks of the Danube must nearly resemble one upon the plains washed by the Mississippi. Instead then of presuming from this similarity, that there is any affinity between them, we should only conclude that the disposition and manners of men are formed by their situation, and arise from the state of society in which they live. The moment that begins to vary, the character of a people must change. In proportion as it advances in improvement, their manners refine, their powers and talents are called forth. In every part of the earth, the progress of man halh been nearly the same ; and we can trace him in his career from the rude simplicity of savage lite, until he attains the industry, the arts, and the elegance of polished society. There is nothing wonder- ful, then, in the simililude between the Americans and the barbarous nations of our continent. Had Lafitau, Garcia, and many other authors attended to this, they would not have perplexed a subject, which they pretend to illustrate, by their fruitless endeavours to establish an affinity between various races of people, in the old and new continents, upon no other evidence tlian such a resemblance in their manners as necessarily arises from the similarity of their condition. There are, it is true, among every people, some customs which, as they do not flow from any natural want or desire peculiar to their situation, may be denominated usages of arbitrary institution. If between two nations settled in remote parts of the earth, a perfect agreement witli respect to any of these should be discovered, one might be led to suspect that they were connec'ed by some affinity. If, for example, a nation were found in America that consecrated the seventh day to religious worship and rest, we might justly suppose that it had derived its knowledge of this usage, which is of arbitrary institution, from the Jews. But, if it were discovered that another nation celebrated the first appearance of ever}' new moon with extraordinary demonstrations of joy, we should not be entitled to conclude that the observation of this monthly festival was borrowed from the Jews, but ought to consider it merely as the expression of that joy which is natural to man on the return of the planet which guides and cheers him in the night. The instances of customs, nierely arbitrary, common to the inhabitants of both hemispheres, are, indeed, so few and so equivocal, that no theoiy concerning the population of the New World ought to be founded upon them. * Parson's Remains of Japhot, p. 240. Ancinnt L niverx. Hist. vol. xx. p. 164i P. Feyjoo Tca» tro Criiico, torn. t. p. 304, ate. Acosta Hist. Moral. Novi Orbia, lib. i. 16. c. 19. 132 HISTORY OF [Book IV. 3. The theories which have been formed with respect to the orig^inal of the Americans, from observation of their relis^ious rites and practices, are no less ianciful and destitute of solid foundation. When the religious opinioiis of any people are neither the result of rational inquiiy, nor derived from the instructions of revelation, they must needs be wild and extravagant. Barbarous nations are incapable of the former, and have not been blessed with the advantages arising i'rom the latter. Still, however, the human mind, even where its operations appear most wild and capricious, holds a course so regular, that in every age and country the dominion of particular passions will be attended with similar effects. The savage of Europe or America, when filled with superstitious dread of invisible beings, or with inquisitive solicitude to penetrate into the events of futurity, trembles alike with fear, or glows with impatience. He has recourse to rites and practices of the same kind, in order to avert the vengeance wiiich he supposes to be impending over him, or to divine the secret which is the object of his curiosity. Accordingly, the ritual of superstition in one continent seems, in many particulars, to be a transcript of that established in the other, and both authorize similar institutions, sometimes so frivolous as to excite pity, sometimes so bloody and barbarous as to create horror. But without supposing any consanguinity between such distant nations, or imagining that theii- religious ceremonies were conveyed by tradition from the one to the other, we may ascribe this uniformity, which in many instances seems very amazing, to the natural operation ol superstition and enthusiasm upon the weakness of the human mind. 4. We may lay it down as a certain principle in this inquiry, that America was not peopled by any nation of the ancient continent which had made considerable progress in civilization. The inhabitants of the New World were in a state of society so extremely rude as to be unacquainted with those arts which are the first essays of human ingenuity in its advance towards improvement. Even the most cultivated nations of America were strangers to many of those simple inventions which were almost coeval with society in other parts of the world, and were known in the earliest periods of civil life with which we have any acquaintance. From this it is manifest, that the tribes which originally migrated to America, came ofif from nations which must have been no less barbarous than their posterity, at the time when they were first discovered by the Europeans. For, although the elegant or refined arts may decline or perish, amidst the violent shocks of those revolutions and disasters to which nations are exposed, the necessary arts of life, when once they have been introduced among any people, are never lost. None of the vicissitudes in human afifairs affect these, and they continue to be practised as long as the race of men exists. It ever the use of iron had been known to the savages of America, or to their progenitors ; if ever they had employed a plough, a loom, or a forge, the utility of those inventions would have preserved them, and it is impos- sible that they should have been abandoned or forgotten. We may conclude, then, that the Americans sprung from some people, who were themselves in such an early and unimproved stage of society, as to be unacquainted with all those necessary arts, which continued to be unknown among their posterity when first visited by the S])aniards. 5. It appears no less evident that America was not peopled by any colony froni the more southern nations of the ancient continent. None of the nide tribes settled in that part of our hemisphere can be supposed to have visited a country so remote. They possessed neither enterprise, nor ingenuity, nor power that could prompt them to undertake, or enable them to perform such a distant voyage. That the more civilized nations in Asia or Africa are not the progenitors of the Americans, is manifest not only from the observations which 1 have already made concerning their ignorance of the most simple and necessary arts, but from an additional circumstance. AMERICA. 133 Whenever any people have experienced the advantages which men enjoy by their dominion over the inferior animals, they can neither subsist without the nourisliment whicli these afford, nor carry on any considerable operation independent of tlieir ministry and labour. Accordingly, the first care of the Spaniards, when they settled in America, was to stock it with all the domestic animals of Europe ; and if, prior to them, the Tyrians, the Carthaginians, the Chinese, or any other polished people, had taken possession of that continent, we should have found there the animals peculiar to those regions of the globe where they were originally seated. In all America, however, there is not one animal, tame or wild, which properly belongs to the warm or even the more temperate countries of the ancient continent. The camel, the dromedary, the horse, the cow, were as much unknown in America as the elephant or the lion. From which it is obvious, that the people who first settled in the western world did not issue from the countries where those animals abound, and where men, from having been long accustomed to their aid, would naturally consider it not only as beneficial, but as indispensably necessary to the improvement, and even the preservation of civil society. 6. From considering tbe animals with which America is stored, we may conclude that the nearest point of contact between the old and new con- tinents is towards the northern extremity of both, and that there the communication was opened, and the intercourse carried on between them. All the extensive countries in America which lie within the tropics, or approach near to them, are filled with indigenous animals of various kinds, entirely different from those in the corresponding regions of the ancient continent. But the northern provinces of the New World abound with many of the wild animals which are common in such parts of our hemisphere as lie in a similar situation. The bear, the wolf, the fox, the hare, the deer, the roebuck, the elk, and several other species, frequent the forests of North America, no less than those in the north of Europe and Asia.* It seems to be evident, then, that the two continents approach each other in this quarter, and are either united, or so nearly adjacent that these animals might pass from the one to the other. 7. The actual vicinity of the two continents is so clearly established by modern discoveries, that the chief difficulty with respect to the peopling of America is removed. While those immense regions which stretch eastward trom the river Oby to the sea of Kamchatka were unknown or imperfectly explored, the north-east extremities of our hemisphere were supposed to be so tar distant from any part of the New World, that it was not easy to conceive how any communication should have been carried on between them. But the Russians, having subjected the western part of Siberia to their empire, gradually extended their knowledge of that vast country, by advancing towards the east into unknown provinces. These were discovered by hunters in their excursions after game, or by soldiers employed in levying the taxes ; and the court of Moscow estimated the importance of those countries, only by the small addition which they made to its revenue. At length Peter the Great ascended the Russian throne. His enlightened, comprehensive mind, intent upon every circumstance that could aggrandize his etnpire, or render his reign illustrious, discerned consequences ot those discoveries which had escaped the observation of his ignorant predecessors. He perceived that in proportion as the regions ot' Asii extended towards the east, they must approach nearer to America ; that tho communication between the two continents, which had long been searched for in vain, would probably be found in this quarter ; and that by opening it, some part of the wealth and commerce of the western world might be made to flow into his dominions by a new channel. Such an object suited • Buffon, Hilt Nat. U. p. 97, &e. 134 HISTORY OF LBookIV a genius that delighted in grand schemes. Peter drew up instructions with his own hand for prosecuting this design, and gave orders for carr}'ing it into execution.* His successors adopted his ideas and pursued his plan. The officers ■whom the Russian court employed in this service had to struggle with so many difficulties, that their progress was extremely slow. Lncouraged by some faint traditions among the people of Siberia, concerning a successful voyage in the year one thousand six liundred and forty-eight, round the north-east promontory of Asia, they attempted to follow the same course. Vessels were fitted out, with this view, at different times, from the rivers Lena and Kolyma ; but in a frozen ocean, which nature seems not to have destined for navigation, they were exposed to many disasters, without being able to accomplish their purpose. No vessel fitted out by the Russian court ever doubled this formidable Cape [41] ; we are indebted for what is known of those extreme regions of Asia, to the discoveries made in excursions by land. In all those provinces an opinion prevails, that there are countries of great extent and fertility which lie at no considerable distance trom their own coasts. These the Russians imagined to be part of America ; and several circumstances concurred not only in confirming them, in this belief, but in persuading them that some portion of that con- tinent could not be very remote. Trees of various kinds unknown in those naked regions of Asia, are driven upon the coast by an easterly wind. By the same wind, floating ice is brought thither in a few days ; flights of birds arrive annually from the same quarter ; and a tradition obtains among the inhabitants, of an intercourse ibrmerly carried on with some countries situated to the east. After weighing all these particulars, and comparing the position of the countries in Asia which had been discovered, with such parts in the north- west of America as were already known, the l^ussian court ibrmed a plan, which would have hardly occurred to a nation less accustomed to engage in arduous undertakings, and to contend with gieat difficulties. Orders were issued to build two vessels at the small village of Ochotz, situated on the sea of Kamchatka, to sail on a voyage of discovery. Though that dreary uncultivated region furnished nothing that could be of use in constructing them, but some larch trees : though not only the iron, the cordage, the sails, and a'l the numerous articles requisite for their equipment, but the provisions ibr victualling them were to be carried through the immense deserts of Siberia, do^vn rivers of difficult navigation, and along roads almost impassable, the mandate of the sovereign, and the perseverance of the people, at last surmounted every obstacle. Two vessels Mere finished, and, under the command of the Captains Behring and Tschirikow, sailed from Kamchatka, in quest of the New World in a quarter where it had never been approached. They shaped their course towards the east ; and though a storm soon separated the vessels, which never rejoined, and many disasters befell them, the expectations from the voyage were not altogether frustrated. Each of the commanders discovered land, which to them appeared to be part of the American continent ; and, according to their observation, it seems to be situated within a few degrees of the north-west coast of California. Each set some of his people f would vanish. What could he offered only as a conjecture, when this Histoiy was first published, is now known to be certain. The near approach of the two continents fo each other has been discovered and traced in a voyage undertaken upon principles so pure and so liberal, and conducted with so much professional skill, as reflect lustre • Muller'i Voyages, torn, i, p, 208, &c, 257, 270. t Ibid. torn. i. p, 160. 136 HISTORYOF [Book IV. upon the reio;nof the soverei2:nby ■whom it was planned, and do honour to the officers intrusted with the execution of it [4t}]. It is likewise evident from recent discoveries, that an intercourse between our continent and America mi2,ht be carried on with no less facility from the north-west extremities of turope. As early as the ninth centurj' [A. D. 830], the Norwegians discovered Greenland, and planted colonies there. The communication with that country, after a long interruption, was renewed in the last century. Some Lutheran and Moravian missionaries, prompted by zeal for propagating the Christian faith, have ventured to settle in this frozen and uncultivated region.* To them we are indebted for much curious information with respect to its nature and inhabitants. We learn that the north-west coast of Greenland is separated from America by a very narrow strait ; that, at the bottom of the bay into which this strait conducts, it is highly probable that they are united ;t that the inhabitants of the two countries have some intercourse with one another; that the Esquimaux of America perliectly resemble the Greenlanders in their aspect, dress, and mode of living; that some sailors who had acquired the knowledge of a (ew words in the Greenlandish language, reported that these were under- stood by the Esquimaux; that, at "length [A. D. 1764], a Moravian mis- sionary, Avell acquainted with the language of Greenland, having visited the country of the Esquimaux, found, to his astonishment, that they spoke the same language with the Greenlanders; that they were in every respect the same people, and he was accordingly received and entertained by them as a triend and a brother.^ By these decisive facts, not only the consanguinity of the Esquimaux and Greenlanders is established, but the possibility of peopling America from the north of Europe is demonstrated. If the Nor\\egians, in a barbarous age, when science had not begun to dawn in the north of Europe, possessed such naval skill as to open a communication with Greenland, their ancestors^ as much addicted to roving by sea, as the Tartars are to wandering by land, might, at some more remote period, accomplish the same voyage, and settle a colony there, whose descendants might, in progress of time, migrate into America. But if, instead of venturing to sail directly from their own coast to Greenland, we suppose that the Norwegians held a more cautious course, and advanced from Shetland to the Feroe islands, and from them to Iceland, in all which they had planted colonies ; their progress may have been so gradual, that this navigation cannot be considered as either longer or more hazardous than those voyages which that hardy and enterprising race of men is known to have performed in everj- age. 8. Though it be possible that America may have received its first inhabit- ants from our continent, either by the north-west of Europe or the north- east of Asia, there seems to be good reason fur supposing that the progenitors of all the American nations trom Cape Horn to the southern confines of Labrador, migrated from the latter rather than the former. The Esquimaux are the only people in America, who in their aspect or character bear any resemblance to the northern Europeans. They are manifestly a race of men distinct from all the nations of the American continent, in language, in disposition, and in habits of life. Their original, then, niay warrantably be traced up to that source which I have pointed out. But among all the other inhabitants of America, there is such a striking similitude in the form of their bodies and the qualities of their minds, that, notwithstanding the diversities occasioned by the influences of climate, or unequal progress in improvement, we Tnust pronounce them to be descended from one source. There rnay be a variety in the shades, but we can every where trace the same original colour. Each tribe has something peculiar which distinguishes • Crantz' Hist, of Grccnl. i. 242. iM4. Picvct, Hist. G6n. des Voyages, torn. xv. 152, note (fi6), t £ggedc, p. 2, 3. t Ctaatz' Uut. of Greeul. p. 2t>l, 362, AMERICA. 137 it, but in all of thpm we discern certain features common to the whole race. It IS remarkable, that in every peculiarity, whether in their persons or dispositions, which characterize the Americans, they have some resemblance to the rude tribes scattered over the noith-east of Asia, but almost none to the nations settled in the northern extremities of Europe. We may, there- fore, re'>,i- them to the former origin, and conclude that their Asiatic progenitors, having settled in those parts of America where the Russians have discovered the proximity of the two continents, spread gradually oyer its various regions. This account of the progress of population m America coincides with the traditions of the Mexicans concerning their own origin, which, imperfect as they are, were preserved with more accuracy, and merit greater credit, than those of any people in the New World. Ac- cording to them, their ancestors came from a remote country situated to the north-west of Mexico. The Mexicans point out their various stations as they advanced from this into the interior provinces, and it is precisely the same route which they must have held it they had been emigrants from Asia. The Mexicans, in desciibing the appearance of their progenitors, their manners and habits of life at that period, exactly delineate those of the rude Tartais from whom I suppose them to have sprung.* Thus have I finished a Disquisition which has been deemed of so much importance that it would have been improper to omit it in writing the his- tory of America. I have ventured to inquire, but without presuming to decide. Satisfied with offering conjectures, 1 pretend not to establish any system. When an investigation is, from its nature, so intricate and obscure, that it is impossible to arrive at conclusions which are certain, there maj be some merit in pointing out such as are probable.! The condition and character of the American nations, at the time when they became knoAvn to the Europeans, deserve more attentive considera- tion than the inquiry concerning their original. The latter is merely an object of curiosity ; the former is one of the most important as well as instructive researches which can occupy the philosopher or historian. In order to complete the history of the human mind, and attain to a perfect knowledge of its nature and operations, we must contemplate man m all those various situations wherein he has been placed. We must follow him in his progress through the different stages of society, as he gradually ad- vances from the infant state of civil life towards its maturity and decline. We must observe, at each period, how the faculties of his understanding unfold ; we must attend to the efforts of his active powers, watch the va- rious movements of desire and affection, as they rise in his breast, and mark whither they tend, and with what ardour they are exerted. The philosophers and historians of ancient Greece and Rome, our guides in this a? well as every other disquisition, had only a limited view of this subifect, as they had hardly any opportunity of surveying man in hjs rudest and most earfy state. In all those regions of the earth with which they were well acquainted, civil society had made considerable advances, and nations had finished a good part of their career before they began to ob- serve them. The Scythians and Germans, the rudest people of whom any ancient author has transmitted to us an authentic account, possessed flocks and herds, had acquired property of various kinds, and, when com- pared with mankind in their primitive state, may be reckoned to have attained to a great degree of civilization. But the discovery of the New World enlarged the sphere of contem- plation, and presented nations to our view, in stages of their progress, much less advanced than those wherein they have been obser\'cd in our continent. In America, man appears under the rudest form in which we * Acosta, Hist. Nat. et Mor. lib. vii. c 2, &c. Garcia, Origen do los Indios, lib. v. c. 3. Tor- quemada Monar Ind. lib. i. c. 2. ice. Boturiiii Renaduci Idea de una Hist, de la Amcr. SeptentEp sect. xvii. p. 127. t M^moiien iwc la LouUianc, par Duraout, tore. 1. p. Ud. Vol. I.— 18 8 I 138 HISTORY OF [Book IV. can conceive him to subsist. We behold communities just beginning to unite, and may examine the sentiments and actions oi human beings in the infancy of social life, while they teel but imperfectly the force of its ties, and have scarcely relinquished[ their native liberty. That state of jrimeval simplicity, which was known in our continent only by the fanci- "ul description of poets, really existed in the other. The greater part of its inhabitants Avere strangers to industry and labour, ignorant of arts, im- perfectly acquainted with the nature of property, and enjoying almost without restriction or control the blessings which Howed spontaneously from the bounty of nature. 1 here were only two nations in this vast continent which had emerged from this rude state, and had made any considerable progress in acquiring ^he ideas, and adopting the institutions, which belong to polished societies Their government and manners will fall naturally under our review in relating the discovery and conquest of the Mexican and Peruvian empires •, and we shall have there an oppor- tunity of contemplating the Americans in the slate of highest improve- ment to which they ever attained. At present, our attention and researches shall be turned to the small in- dependent- tribes which occupied every other part of America. Amon"' these, though with some diversity in their character, their manners, and institutions, the state of society was nearly similar, and so extremely rude, that the denomination of savage may be applied to them all. In a gene- ral history of America, it would be highly improper to describe the con- dition of each petty community, or to investigate every minute circum- stance which contributes to form the character of its members. Such an inquiry would lead to details of immeasurable and tiresome extent. The qualities belonging to the people of all the different tribes have such a near resemblance, that they may be painted with the same features. Where any circumstances seem to constitute a diversity in their charac- ter and manners worthy of attention, it will be sufficient to point these out as they occur, and to inquire into the cause of such peculiarities. It is extremely difficult to procure satisfying and authentic information concerning nations while they remain uncivilized. To discover their true character under this rude form, and to select the features by which they are distinguished, requires an observer possessed of no less impartiality than discernment. For, in every stage of society, the faculties, the sen- timents, and desires of men are so accommodated to their own state, that they become standards of excellence to themselves, they affix the idea of perfection and happiness to those attainments which resemble their own, and, wherever the objects and enjoyments to which they have been ac customed are wanting, confidently pronounce a peo])]e to be barbarous and miserable. Hence the mutual contempt with which the members of communities, unequal in their degrees of improvement, regard each other. Polished nations, conscious of the advantages which they derive from their knowledge and arts, are apt to view rude nations with peculiar scorn, and, in the pride of superiority, will hardly allow either their occupations, their feelings, or their pleasures, to be worthy of men. It has seldom been the lot of communities, in their early and unpolished state, to fall under the ob- servation of persons endowed with force of mind superior to vulgar preju- dices, and capable of contemplating man, under whatever aspect he appears, with a candid and discerning eye. The Spaniards, who first visited America, and who had opportunity ol beholding its various tribes while entire and unsubdued, and before any change had been made in their ideas or manners by intercourse with a race of men much advanced beyond them in improvement, were far from pos- sessing the qualities requisite for observing the striking spectacle presented to their view. Neither the age in which they lived, nor the nation to which they belonged, had made such progress in true science, as inspires enlarged AMERICA. 139 and liberal sentiments. The conquerors of the New World were mostly illiterate adventurers, destitute of all the ideas which should have directed them in contemplating: objects so extremely different from those Avith which they were acquainted. Surrounded continually with danger or struggling with hardships, they had little leisure, and less capacity, for any speculative inquiiy. Eager to take possession of a country of such extent and opu- lence, and hajspy in finding it occupied by inhabitants so incapable to de- fend it, they hastily pronounced then) to be a wretched order of men, form- ed merely for servitude ; and were more employed in computing the profits of their labour, than in inquiring into the operations of their minds, or the reasons of their customs and institutions. The persons who penetrated at subsequent periods into the interior provinces, to which the knowledge and devastations of the first conquerors did not reach, were generally of a simi lar character ; brave and enterprising in a high degree, but so uninformed as to be little qualified either for observing or describing what they beheld. Not only the incapacity but the prejudices of the Spaniards rendered their accounts of the people of America extremely defective. Soon after they planted colonies in their new conquests, a dinerence in opinion arose with respect to the treatment of the natives. One party, solicitous to ren der their servitude perpetual, represented them as a brutish, obstinate race, incapable either of acquiring religious knowledge, or of being trained to the functions of social life. The other, full of pious concern for their con- version, contended that, though rude and ignorant, they were gentle, affec- tionate, docile, and by proper instructions and regulations might be formed gradually into good Christians and useful citizens. This controversy, as I nave already related, was carried on with all the warmth which is natural, when attention to interest on the one hand, and religious zeal on the other, animate the disputants. Most of the laity espoused the former opinion ; all the ecclesiastics were advocates for the latter; and we shal-1 uniformly find that, accordingly as an author belonged to either of these parties, he is apt to magnify the virtues or aggravate the defects of the Americans far beyond truth. Those repugnant accounts increase the difficulty of attaining a perfect knowledge of their character, and render it necessary to peruse all the descriptions of them by Spanish writers with distrust, and to receive their information with some grains of allowance. Almost two centuries elapsed after the discovery of America, before the manners of its inhabitants attracted, in any considerable degree, the attention of philosophers. At length they discovered that the contemplation of the condition and characterof the Americans, in their original state, tend- ed to complete our knowledge of the human species ; might enable us to fill up a considerable chasm in the history of its progress ; and lead to spe- culations no less curious than important. They entered upon this new field of study Avith great ardour ; but, instead of throwing light upon the subject, they have contributed in some degree to involve it in ad(iitional obscurity. Too impatient to inquire, they hastened to decide ; and began to erect systems, when they should have been searching for facts on which to establish their foundations. Struck with the appearance of degene- racy in the human species throughout the New World, and astonished at beholding a vast continent occupied by a naked, feeble, and ignorant race of men, some authors, of great name, have maintained that this part of the globe had but lately emerged from the sea, and become fit for the, residence of man; that every thing in it bore marks of a recent ori":in9il ; and that its inhabitants, lately called into existence, and still at the begin- ning of their career, were unworthy to be compared with the people ot a more ancient and improved continent.* Others have imagined, that, under the influence of an unkindly climate, which checks and enervate* * M. de Buffon Hist. Nat. iii. 464, Ace. iz. 103. 114. no HISTORY OF [Book IV. the principle of life, man never attained in America the perfection which belongs to his nature, but remained an animal of an inferior order, defec- tive in the vigour of his bodily frame, and destitute of sensibility, as well as of force, in the operations of his mind.* In opposition to both these, other philosophers have supposed that man arrives at his highest dignity and excellence long before he reaches a state of refinement ; and, in the rude simplicity of savage life, displa;^s an elevation of sentiment, an in- dependence of mind, and a warmth of attachment, for which it is vain to search among the members of polished societies.! They seem to consi- der that as the most perfect state of man which is the least civilized. They describe the manners of the rude Americans with such rapture, as if they proposed them for models to the rest of the species. These con- tradictory theories have been proposed with equal confidence, and un- common powers of genius and eloquence have been exerted, in order to clothe them with an appearance of truth. As all those circumstances concur in rendering an inquiry into the state of the rude nations in America intricate and obscure, it is necessary to carry it on with caution. When guided in our researches by the intelligent observations of the few philosophers who have visited this part of the globe, we may venture to decide. When obliged to have recourse to the superficial remarks of vulgar travellers, of sailors, traders, buccaneers, and missionaries, we must often pause, and, comparing detached facts, endeavour to discover what they wanted sagacity to observe. Without indulging conjecture, or betraying a propensity to either system, we must study with equal care to avoid the extremes of extravagant admiration, or of supercilious contempt for those manners which we describe. In order to conduct this inquiry with greater accuracy, it should be rendered as simple as possible. Man existed as an individual before he became the member of a community ; and the qualities which belong to him under his former capacity should be known, before we proceed to examine those which arise from the latter relation. This is peculiarly necessary in investigating the manners of rude nations. Their political union is so incomplete, their civil institutions and regulations so few, so simple, and of such slender authority, that men in this state ought to be viewed rather as independent agents, than as members of a regular society. The character of a savage results almost entirely from his sentiments or feelings as an individual, and is but little influenced by his imperfect subjection to government and order. I shall conduct my researches concerning the manners of the Americans in this natural order, proceeding gradually from what is simple to what is more complicated. I shall consider, I. The bodily constitution of the Americans in those regions now under review. II. The qualities of their minds. III. Their domestic state. IV. Their political state and institutions. V. Their system of war, and public security. VI. The arts with which they were acquainted. Vll. Their religious ideas and institutions. VIII. Such singular detached customs as are not reducible to any of the former heads. IX. I shall conclude with a general review and estimate of their virtues and defects. I. The bodily constitution of the Americans. — The human body is less affected by climate than that of any other animal. Some animals are confined to a particular region of the globe, and cannot exist beyond it ; others, though they may be brought to bear the imuries of a climate foreign to them, cease to multiply when carried out of that district which nature destined to be their mansion. Even such as seem capable of being naturalized in various climates feel the effect of every remove from their proper station, and gradually dwindle and degenerate from the vigour and * >L de P. Recbercbes Fblloe. sur les Am^ric. patninu t M. Rousseau, AMERICA. 141 perfection peculiar to their species. Man is the only living creature whose frame is at once so hardy and so flexible, that he can spread over the whole earth, become the inhabitant of every region, and thrive and multiply under eveiy climate. Subject, however, to the general law of Nature, the human body is not entirely exempt from the operation of climate ; and when exposed to the extremes either of heat or cold, its size or vigour diminishes. The first appearance of the inhabitants of the New World_ filled the discoverers with such astonishment that they were apt to imagine them a race of men different from those of the other hemisphere. Their com- plexion is of a reddish brown, nearly resembling the colour of copper.* The hair of their heads is always black, long, coarse, and uncurled. They have no beard, and every part of their body is perfectly smooth. Their persons are of a full size, extremely straight, and well proportioned [44]. Their features are regular, though often distorted by absurd endeavours to improve the beauty of their natural form, or to render their aspect more dreadful to their enemies. In the islands, where four-footed animals were both few and small, and the earth yielded her productions almost spon- taneously, the constitution of the natives, neither braced by the active exercises of the chase, nor invigorated by the labour of cultivation, was extremely feeble and languid. On the continent, where the forests abound with game of various kinds, and the chief occupation of many tribes was to pursue it, the human frame acquired greater firmness. Still, however, the Americans were more remarkable lor agility than strength. They resembled beasts of prey, rather than animals formed for labour [45]. They were not only averse to toil, but incapable of it ; and when roused by force from their native indolence, and compelled to work, they sunk nnder tasks which the people of the other continent would have performed with ease.t This feebleness of constitution was universal among the inhabitants of those regions in America which we are surveying, and may be considered as characteristic of the species there.| The beardless countenance and smooth skin of the American seems to indicate a defect of vigour, occasioned by some vice in his frame. He is destitute of one sign of manhood and of strength. This peculiarily, by which the inhabitants of the New World are distinguished from the people of all other nations, cannot be attributed, as some travellers have supposed, to their mode of subsistence. § For though the food of many Americans be extremely insipid, as they are altogether unacquainted with the use of salt, rude tribes in other parts of the earth have subsisted on aliments equally simple, without this mark of degradation, or any apparent symptom of a diminution in their vigour. As the external form of the Americans leads us to suspect that there is some natural debility in their trame, the smallness of their appetite for food has been mentioned by many authors as a confirmation ot this sus- picion. The quantity of food which men consume varies according to the temperature of the climate in which they live, the degree of activity which they exert, and the natural vigour of their constitutions. Under the enervating heat of the torrid zone, and when men pass their days in indolence and ease, they require less nourishment than the active inhabitants of temperate or cold countries. But neither the warmth of their climate, nor their extreme lazmess, will account for the uncommon defect of appetite among the Americans. The Spaniards were astonished with observing this, not only in the islands, but in several parts of the continent. The constitutional temperance of the natives far exceeded, in their opinion, * Oviedo Somario p. 4(1. D. Life of Columbus, c. 24. f Oviedo Som. p. 51. C; Voy, de Correal, ii. 13fl. Wafer's Description, n. l.')l. t B. Las Casas Brev. Relac. p. 4. Torquem. Moiiar. i. 580. Oviedo Somario, p. 41. Histor. lib. iii. c. H. ticrrera, dec. i. lib. xi. c. 5. Simon, p. 41. $ Charlev. Hist. de. Nouv. Fc. iii. 310. 142 HISTORY OF [Book IV, the abstinence of the most mortified hermits * while, on the other hand, the appetite of the Spaniards appeared to the Americans insatiably voracious ; and they affirmed, that one Spaniard devoured more food in a day than was sufficient for ten Americans.! A proof of some feebleness in their frame, still more striking, is the insensibility of the Americans to the charms of beauty, and the power of love. That passion which was destined to perpetuate life, to be the bond of social union, and the source of tenderness and joy, is the most ardent in the human breast. Though the perils and hardships of the savage state, though excessive fatigue on some occasions, and the difficulty at all times ot procuring subsistence, may seem to be adverse to this passion, and to have a tendency to abate its vigour, yet the rudest nations in every other part of the globe seem to feel its influence more powerfully than the mhabitants ot the New World. The negro glows with all the warmth of desire natural to his climate ; and the most uncultivated Asiatics discover that sensibility, which, from their situation on the globe, we should expect them to have felt. But the Americans are, in an amazing degree, strangers to the force of this first instinct of nature. In every part of the New World the natives treat their women with coldness and indifference. They are neither the objects of that tender attachment which takes place in civilized society, nor of that ardent desire conspicuous among rude nations. Even in climates where this passion usually acquires its greatest vigour, the savage of America views his temale with disdain, as an animal of a less noble species. He is at no pains to win her favour by the assiduity of courtship, and still less solicitous to preserve it by indulgence and gentleness.| Missionai'ies themselves, notwithstanding the austerity of monastic ideas, cannot refrain from expressing their astonishment at the dispassionate coldness of the American young men in their intercourse with the other sex.§ Nor is this reserve to be ascribed to any opinion which they entertain with respect to the merit of temale chastity. That is an idea too refined for a savage, and suggested by a delicacy of sentiment and affection to which he is a stranger. But in inquiries concerning either the bodily or mental qualifies of particular races of men, there is not a more common or more seducing error, than that of ascribing to a single cause, those characteristic peculiarities which are the effect of the combined operation of many causes. The climate and soil of America differ in so many respects from those of the other hemisphere, and this difference is so obvious and striking, that philosophers of great eminence have laid hold on this as sufficient to account for what is peculiar in the constitution of its inhabitants. They rest on physical causes alone, and consider the feeble frame and languid desire of the Americans, as consequences of the temperament of that portion of the globe which they occupy. But the influences of political and moral causes ought not to have been overlooked. These operate with no less effect than that on which many philosophers rest as a full explanation of the singular appearances which have been mentioned. Wherever the state of society is such as to create many wants and desires, which cannot be satisfied without regular exertions of industry, the body accustomed to labour becomes robust and patient of fatigue. In a more simple state, where the demands of men are so few and so moderate that they may be gratified, almost without any effort, by the spontaneous productions of nature, the powers of the body are not called forth, nor can they attain their proper strength. The natives of Chili and of North America, the two * Ramusio, iii. 304. F. 306. A. Simon Conquista, &c. p. 39. Hakluyt, iii. 468. ."SOB. t Herrcra, dec. 1. lib. ii. c. 16. J Hennepin Mtr-urs des Sauvages, 32, &.C. Roctiefurt Hist, dps Isles Antilles, p. 4(51. Voyage de (."orreal, ii. 141. Ramusio, iii. 309. F. Lozano Descr. del Oran Chaco, 71. Falkner's Descr. of Patapon, p. 125. Letlcredi P. Calaneo ap. Muralori 11 Christian. Felice, i. 305. « Chanvalon, p. 51. Lettr. Edif. lorn. xiiv. 318. Tertre, ii. 377. Vx-negas, j, 81. Ribas Hist, de los Triuinf. p. II. AMERICA. 143 temperate regions in the New World, who live hj hunting, may be deemed an active and vigorous race, when compared with the inhabitants of the isles, or of those parts of the continent where hardly any labour is requisite to procure subsistence. The exertions of a hunter are not, however, so regular, or so continued, as thos6 of persons employed in the culture of the earth, or in the various arts of civilized life ; and though his agilitv may be greater than theirs, his strength is on the whole inferior,, If another direction were given to the active powers of man in the New World, and his force augmented by exercise, he might acquire a degree of vigour which he does not in his present state possess. The truth o! this is confirmed by experience. A\herever the Americans have been gradually accustomed to hard labour, their constitutions become robust, and they have been found capable of performing such tasks, as seemed not only to exceed the powers of such a feeble frame as has been deemed peculiar to their coQntry, but to equal any effort of the natives either of Africa or of Europe [46], The same reasoning will apply to what has been observed concernins: their slender demand for food. As a proof that this should be ascribecl as much to their extreme indolence, and often total want of occupation, as to any thing peculiar in the physical stnjcture of their bodies, it has been observed, that in those districts where the people of America are obliged to exert any unusual effort of activity, in order to procure subsistence, or wherever they are employed in severe labour, their appetite is not inferior to that of other men, and in some places, it has struck observers as remark ably voracious.* The operation of political and moral causes is still more conspicuous in modit'ying the degree of attachment between the sexes. In a state of high civilization, this passion, inflamed by restraint, refined by delicacy, and cherished by fashion, occupies and engrosses the heart. It is no longer a simple instinct of nature ; sentiment heightens the ardour of desire, and the most tender emotions of which our frame is susceptible soothe and agitate the soul. This description, however, applies only to those, who, by their situation, are exempted from the cares and labours of life. Among persons of inferior order, who are doomed by their condition to incessant toil, the dominion of this passion is less violent ; their solicitude to procure subsistence, and to provide for the first demand of nature, leaves little le-isure for attending to its second call. But if the nature of the intercourse between the sexes varies so much in persons of different rank in polished societies, the condition of man while he remains uncivilized must occasion a variation still more apparent. We may well suppose, that amidsf the hardships, the dangers, and the simplicity of domestic life, where subsist- ence is always precarious and ollen scanty, where men are almost con- tinually engaged in the pursuit of their enemies, or in guarding against their attacks, and where neither dress nor reserve are employed as arts of female allurement, that the attention of the Americans to their women v.'ould be extremely feeble, Avithout imputing this solely to any physical delect or degradation in their frame. It is accordingly observed, that in those countries of America where, from the iertility of the soil, the mildness of the climate, or some further advances which the natives have made in hnprovement, the means of subsistence are more abundant, and the hard; aips of savage life are less severely felt, the animal passion of the sexes becomes more ardent. Striking examples of this occur among some tribes seated on the banks of great rivers well stored with food, among others who are masters of hunting grounds abounding so much with game, that they have a regular and plentiful supply of nourishment with little labour. The superior degree * Gumilla, u. 12. 7U. 247. Lafitau, i. 513. Ovolle Church, it. 81. Muratori, i. 295. 144 HISTORY OF [Book IV. of security and affluence which those tribes enjoy is followed by their natural effects. The passions implanted in the human frame by the hand of nature acquire additional Ibrce ; new tastes and desires are Ibi med ; the women, as they are more valued and admired, become more attpnli\e to dress and ornament ; the men beginning; to t'eel how much of their oun happiness depends upon them, no longer disdain the arts of winning; their favour and affection. The intercourse of the sexes becomes very different from that which takes place among their ruder countr^'men ; and as hardly any restraint is imposed on the gratification of desire, either by religion or laws or decency, the dissolution of their manners is excessive.* Notwithstanding the feeble make of the Americans, hardly any of them are deformed, or mutilated, or defective in any of their senses. All travellers have been struck with this circumstance, and have celebrated the Uniterm symmetry and perfection of their external figure. Some authors search for the cause of this appearance in their physical condition. As the parents are not exhausted or over fatigued with hard labour, they suppose that their children are born vigorous and sound. They imagine that, in the liberty of savage life, the human body, naked and unconhned from its earliest age, preserves its natural form ; and that all its limbs and members acquire a juster proportion than when lettered with artificial restraints, which stint its growth and distort its shape. f Something, without doubt, may be ascribed to the operation of these causes; but the true reasons of this apparent advantage, which is common to all savage nations, lie deeper, and are closely interwoven with the nature and genius of that state. The infancy of man is so long and so helpless, that it is extremely difficult to rear children among rude nations. Their means of subsistence are not only scanty, but precarious. Such as live by hunting must range over extensive countries, and shil't often from place to place. The care of children, as well as every other laborious task, is devolved upon the women. The distresses and hardships of the savage life, which are often such as can hardly be supported by persons in full vigour, must be iatal to those of more tender age. Afraid of undertaking a task so laborious, and of such long duration, as that of rearing their offspring, the women, in some parts of America, procure frequent abortions by the use of certain herbs, and extin- guish the first sparks of that life which they are unable to cherish.]; Sen- sible that only stout and well Ibrmed children have force of constitution to struggle through such a hard infancy, other nations abandon and destroy such of their progeny as appear I'eeble or defective, as unworthy of attention.§ Even when they endeavour to rear all their children without distinction, so great a proportion of the whole number perishes under the rigorous treat- ment which must be their lot in the savage stale, that few of those who laboured under any original frailty attain the age of manhood. || Thus, in polished societies, where the means of subsistence are secured with certainty, and acquired with ease ; where the talents of the mind are often of more importance than the powers of the body ; children are pre- served notwithstanding their defects or deformity, and grow up to be useful citizens. In rude nations, such persons are either cut off as soon as they are boin, or, becoming a burden to themselves and to the community, cannot long piotract their lives. But in those provinces of the New World, where, by the establishment of the Europeans, more regular pro- vision has been made lor the subsistence of its inhabitants, and they are restrained from laying violent hands on their children, the Americans are so far from being eminent for any superior perfection in their form, that one should ratlier suspect some peculiar imbecility in the race, from the * B'lPt. 3?9. Charlev. iii. 423. Dumont. M^m. sut Louisiane, i. 155. t Pi»o, p. & t Ellis's Voyage to f I udson's Bay, 198. Hcrrera, dec. 7. lib. U. c. 4. ^ Gumilla Hist-il. 3^. Techo'8 Hist, of Faraguay, &.c. Churchill's Collect, vj. 108. || Creuiii. Hist. Canad, p. 57. AMERICA. 145 extraordinajy number of individuals who are deformed, dwarfish, mutilated, blind, or deaf.* How feeble soever the constitution of the Americans may be, it is re- markable that there is less variety in the human form throughout the New World than in the ancient continent. When Columbus and the other discoverers first visited the dirt'erent countries of America which lie within the torrid zone, they naturally expected to find people of the sam^ complexion with those in the corresponding regions of the other hemi- sphere. To their amazement, however, they discovered that America contained no negroes :t and the cause of this singular appearance became as much the object of curiosity as the fact itself was of wonder. In what part or membrane of the body that humour resides which tinges the complexion of the negro with a deep black, it is the business of anatomists to inquire and describe. The powerful operation of heat appears mani- festly to be the cause which produces this striking variety in the human species. Ail Europe, a great part of Asia, and the temperate countries of Africa, are inhabited by men of a white complexion. All the torrid zone in Africa, some of the warmer regions adjacent to it, and several countries in Asia, are filled with people of a deep black colour. If we survey the nations of our continent, making our progress from cold and temperate countries towards those parts wiiich are exposed to the influence of vehe- ment and unremitting heat, we shall find that the extreme whiteness of their skin soon begins to diminish ; that its colour deepens gradually as we advance ; and, after passing through all the successive gradations of shade, terminates in a unitbrm unvarying black. But in America, where the agency of heat is checked and abated by various causes, \vhich I have already explained, the climate seems to be destitute of that force which produces such wonderful effects on the human frame. The colour of the natives of the torrid zone in America is hardly of a deeper hue than that of the people in the more temperate parts of their continent. Accurate observers, who had an opportunity of viewing the Americans in veiy different climates, and in provinces far removed from each other, have been struck with the amazing similarity of their fisrure and aspect [47]. But though the hand of nature has deviated solittle from one standard in fashioning the human form in America, the creation of fancy hath been various and extravagant. The same fables that were current in the ancient continent, have been revived with respect to the New World, and America too has been peopled with human beings of monstrous and fantastic appearance. The inhabitants of certain provinces were described to be pigmies of three feet high ; those of others to be giant? of an enormous size. Some travellers published accounts of people with only one eye ; others pretended to have discovered men without heads, whose eves "and mouths were planted in their breasts. The variety of Nature in ber pro- ductions is indeed so great, that it is presumptuous to set bounds to her fertility, and to reject indiscriminately every relation that does not perfectly accord with our own limited observation and experience. But the other extreme, of yielding a hasty assent on the slighest evidence to whatever has the appearance of being strange and mar^•ellous, is still more unbe- coming a philosophical inquirer ; as, in every period, men are more apt to be betrayed into error by their weakness in believing too much, than by their arrogance in believing too little. In proportion as science extends, and nature is examined with a discerning eye, the wonders which amused ages of Ignorance disappear. The tales of credulous travellers concemir.g America are forgotten ; the monsters which they describe have been searched for in vain ; and those provinces where they pretend to have • Voy. de Ulloa, i. 332. T P- Martyr, dec. p. 71. Vol. I.— 19 146 HISTORY OF [Book IV. found inhabitants of singular forms, are now known to be possessed by a people nowise different iVoin the other Americans. Though those relations may, without discussion, be rejected as fabulous, there are other accounts of varieties in the human species in some parts of the New World, which rest upon better evidence, and merit more attentive examination. This variety has been particularly observed in three dilferent districts. The first of these is situated in the isthmus of Darien, near the centre of America. Lionel Wafer, a traveller possessed of more curiosity and intelligence than we should have expected to find in an associate of Buccaneers, discovered there a race of men few in number, but of a singular make. They are of low stature, according to his description, of a feeble frame, incapable of enduring fatigue. Their colour is a dead milk white ; not resembling that of fair people among the Europeans, but without any tincture of a blush or sanguine complexion. Their skin is covered with a fine hairy down of a chalky white ; the hair of their heads, their eyebrows, and eye-lashes, are of the same liue. Their eyes are of a singular form, and so weak that tiiey can hardly bear llie light of the sun ; but they see clearly by moonlight, and are most active and gay in the night.* No race similar to this has been discovered in any other part of America. Cortes, indeed, found some persons exactly resembling the white people of Darien among the rare and monstrous animals which Montezuma had collected.! But as the power of the Mexican empire extended to the provinces bordering on the isthmus of Darien, they were probably brought thence. Singular as the appearance of those people may be, they cannot be considered as constituting a distinct species. Among the negroes of Africa, as well as the natives of the Indian islands, nature sometimes produces a small number of individuals, with all the characteristic features and qualities of the white people of Darien. The tbrmer are called Albinos by the Portuguese, the latter Kackerlakes by the Dutch. In Darien the parents of those IVhites are of the same colour with the other natives ot the country ; and this observation applies equally to the anomalous progeny of the Negroes and Indiai.s. The same mother who produces some children of a colour that does not belong to the race, brings forth the rest with a complexion pecuhar to her country.! One conclusion may then be formed with respect to the people described by AVafer, the Albinos and the Kackerlakes; they are a degenerated breed, not a separate class of men ; and from some disease or defect of their parents, the peculiar coloin* anddebility which mark their degradation are transmitted to them. As a decisive proof of this, it has been observed, that neither the white people of Darien, nor the Albinos of Africa, propagate their race : their children are of the colour and temperament peculiar to the natives of their respective countries§ [48]. The second district that is occupied by inhabitants differing in appear- ance from the other people of America, is situated in a high northern latitude, extending from the coast of Labrador towards the pole, as far as the country is habitable. The people scattered over those dreary regions are known to the Europeans by the name of Esquimaux. They them- selves, with that idea of their own superiority, which consoles the rudest and most wretched nations, assume the name of Keralit or Men. They are of a middle size, and robust, with heads of a disproportioned bulk, and feet as remarkably small. Their compleiion though swarthy, by being continually exposed to the rigour of a cold climate, inclines to the European white rather than to the copper colour of America, and the men have beards which are sometimes bushy and long.ll From these marks of • Wafer's Descript. of Isth. ap. Dampier, iii. p. 346. t Cortps ap. Raiims. iii. p. 241. E. X Margrav. Hi«l. Rur. Nat. Braa. lib. viii. c. 4. ^ Wafer, p. 348. Demauet Hi^t. de rAfriqun, li. 2S4. Rccberch. Philr*. stir lea Auaer. ii. 1, &c. II EUis Vny. to Huds. Bay, p. 131. 139. IJe U Potberis, tom. 1. p. Ti. Wales Jouw. of a Vcy. to ChurcliiU Rix-er, Phil. Ttane. vol U 109. AMERICA. i-it tlistinction, as well as from one still less equivocal, the affinity of their language to that of the Greenlanders, which I have already mentioned, we may conclude, with some degree ot conhdence, that the Esquimaux are a race different from the rest of the Americans. We cannot decide with equal certainty concerning the inhabitants of the third district, situated at the southern extremity oi America. These are the famous Paiagoiiians, who, during two centuries and a half, have afforded a subject of controversy to the learned, and an object of wonder to the vulgar. They are supposed to be one of the wandering tribes which occupy the vast but least known region of America, which extends from the river de la Plata to the Straits of Magellan. Their proper station is in that part of the interior country which lies on the banks of the river Negro ; but, in the hunting season, they often roam as far as the straits wuich separate Tierra del Fuego from the main land. The first accounts of this people were brought to Europe by the companions of Magellan,* who described them as a gigantic race, above eight feet high, and of strength in proportion to their enormous size. Among several tribes of animals, a disparity in bulk as considerable may be observed. Some large breeds of horses and dogs exceed the more diminutive races in stature and strength, as far as the Patasionian is supposed to rise above the usual standard of the human body. l3ut animals attain the highest per- fection of their species only in mild climates, or where they find the most nutritive food in greatest abundance. It is not then in the uncultivated ■waste of the Magellanic regions, and among a tribe of improvident savages, that we should expect to find man possessing the highest honours of his race, and distinguished by a superiority of size and vigour, far beyond what he has reached in any other part of the earth. The most explicit and unexceptionable evidence is requisite, in order to. establish a fact repugnant to those general principles and laws, which seem to affect ttie human frame in every other instance, and to decide with respect to its nature and qualities. Such evidence has not hitherto been produced. Though several persons, to whose testimony great respect is due, have visited, this part of America since the time ot Magellan, and have had interviews with the natives; though some have affirmed, that such as they saw were of gigantic stature, and others have formed the same conclusion from measuring their footsteps, or from viewing the skeletons of their dead ; yet their accounts vary from each other in so many essential points, and are mingled with so many circumstances manifestly false or fabulous, as detract much from their credit. On the other hand, some navigators, and those among the most eminent of their order for discernment and accuracy, have asserted that the natives of Patagonia, with whom they had intercourse, though stout and well made, are not of such extraordinary size as to be distinguished from the rest of the human species [49]. The existence of this gigantic race of men seems, then, to be one ot those points in natural history, with respect to which a cautious inquirer will hesitate, and will choose to suspend his assent until more cornplete evidence shall decide whether he ought to admit a fact, seemingly inconsistent with Avhat reason and experience have discovered concerning the structure and condition of man, in all the various situations in which he has been observed. In order to form a complete idea witli respect to the constitution of the mhabitants of this and the other hemisphere, we should attend not only to the make and vigour of their bodies, but consider what degree of health they enjoy, and to what period of longevity they usually arrive. In the simplicity of the savage state, when man is not oppressed with labour, or enervated by luxury, or disquieted with care, we are apt to imagine that this life will flow on almost untroubled by disease or sufiering, until his * Falkaer's Dsscrlptlon of Pamgonia, p. 102. 148 HISTORY OF [Book IV. days be terminated in extreme old age by the gradual decays of nature We find, accordingly, among the Americans, as well as among other rude people, persons whose decrepit and shrivelled form seems to indicate an extraordinary length of life. But as most of them are unacquainted with the art of numbering, and all of them as forgetful of what is past, as they are improvident of what is to come, it is impossible to ascertain their age with any degree of precision.* It is evident that the period of their longevity must vary considerably, according to the diversity of climates, and their different modes of subsistence. They seem, however, to be every where exempt from many of the distempers which afflict polished nations. Nnne of the maladies, which are the immediate offspring of luxury, ever visited them ; and they have no names in their languages by ■which to distinguish this numerous train of adventitious evils. But whatever be the situation in which man is placed, he is born to suffer ; and his diseases in the savage state, though fewer in number, are, like those of the animals whom he nearly resembles in his mode of lite, more violent and more fatal. If luxury engenders and nourislies distempers of one species, the rigour and distresses of savage life bring on those of another. As men in this state are wonderfully improvident, and their means of subsistence precarious, they often pass from extreme want to exuberant plenty, according to the vicissitudes of fortune in the chase, or in consequence of the various degrees of abundance with which the earth affords to them its productions in different seasons. Their inconsiderate gluttony in the one situation, and their severe abstinence in the other, are equally pernicious. For though the human constitution may be accustomed by habit, like that of animals of prey, to tolerate long famine, and then to gorge voraciously, it is not a little affected by such sudden and violent transitions. The strength and vigour of savages are at some seasons impaired by what they suffer from a scarcity of food ; at others they are afflicted with disorders arising from indigestion and a superfluity of gross aliment. These are so common, that they may be considered as the unavoidable consequence of their m.ode of subsisting, and cut off considerable numbers in the prime of life. They are likewise extremely subject to consumptions, to pleuritic, asthmatic, and paralytic disorders,! brought on by the immoderate hardships and fatigue which they endure in hunting and in war ; or owing to the inclemency of the seasons to which they are continually exposed. In the savage state, hardships and fatigue violently assault the constitution. In polished societies, intemperance undermines it. It is not easy to determine which of them operates with most fatal effect, or tends most to abridge human life. The influence of the former is certainly most extensive. 1 he pernicious consequences of luxury reach only a few members in any community ; the distresses of savage life are felt by all. As far as I can judge, after very minute inquiry, the general period of human life is shorter among savages than in well regulated and industri- ous societies. One dreadful malady, the severest scourge with which, in this life, offended Heaven chastens the indulgence of criminal desire, seems to have been peculiar to the Americans. By communicating it to their conquerors, they have not only amply avenged their own wrongs, but, by adding this calamity to those which formerly imbittered human life, they have, perhaps, more than counterbalanced all the benefits which Europe has deri\ed from the discovery of the New World. This distemper, from the country in •which it first raged, or from the people by whom it was rupposed to have been spread over Europe, has been sometimes called the iNeapolitan, and sometimes the French disease. At its first appearance, the infection was • Ulloa Notic. Americ. 333. Bancroft Nat. Hist, of G 'liana, 334. t Charley. N. Fr. Ui. 364. Lafitau, u. 360. De la PoUurie, u. 37. AMERICA. ' 146 so malignant, its symptoms so violent, its operation so rapid and fatal, as to baffle all the efforts of medical skill. Astonishment and terror accompanied this unknown affliction in its progress, and men began to dread the extinction of the human race by such a cruel visitation. Experience, and the ingenuity of physicians, gradually discovered remedies of such virtue as to cure or to mitigate the evil. During the course of two centuries and a half, its virulence seems to have abated considerably. At length, in the same manner with the leprosy, which raged in Enrope for some centuries, it may waste its force and disappear; and in some happier age, this western infection, like that from the east, may be known only by descrip- tion [50]. 11. After considering what appears to be peculiar in the bodily constitution of t';e Americans, our attention is naturally turned towards the powers and qualities of their minds. As the individual advances from the igno- rance and imbecility of the infant state to vigour and maturity of under- standing, something similar to this may be observed in the progress of the species. With respect to it, too, there is a period of infancy, during which several powers of the mind are not unfolded, and all are feeble and defective in their operation. In the early ages of society, while the condition of man is simple and rude, this reason is but little exercised, and his desires move within a very narrow sphere. Hence arise two remarkable charac- teristics of the human mind in this state. Its intellectual powers are extremely limited ; its emotions and efforts are few and languid. Both these distinctions are conspicuous among the rudest and most unimproved of the American tribes, and constitute a striking part of their description. What, among polished nations, is called speculative reasoning or research, is altogether unknown in the rude state of society, and never becomes the occupation or amusement of the human faculties, until man be so far improved as to have secured, with certainty, the means of subsistence, as well as the possession of leisure and tranquillity. The thoughts and attention of a savage are confined within the small circle of objects imme- diately conducive to his preservation or enjoyment. Every thing beyond that escapes his observation, or is perfectly indifferent to him. Like a mere animal, what is before his eyes interests and atl'ects him ; what is out of sight, or at a distance, makes little impression.* There are several people in America whose limited understandings seem not to be capable of forming an arrangement for futurity ; neither their solicitude nor their foresight extends so far. They follow blindly the impulse of the appetite which they feel, but are entirely regardless of distant consequences, and even of those removed in the least degree from immediate apprehension. While they highly prize such things as serve for present use, or minister to present enjoyment, they set no value upon those which are not the object of some unmediate want.j When, on the approach of the evening, a Caribbee feels himself disposed to goto rest, no consideration will tempt him to sell his hammock. But, in the morning, when he is sallying out to the business or pastime of the day, he will part with it for the slightest toy that catches his fancy. J At the close of winter, while the impression of what he has suffered from the rigour of the climate is fresh in the nu"nd of the North American, he sets himself with vigour to prepare materials for erecting a comfortable hut to protect him against the inclemency of the succeeding season ; but, as soon as the weather becomes mild, he foig;ets what is past, abandons his work, and never thinks of it more until the return of cold compels him, when too late, to resume it.§ 11 in concerns the most interesting, and seemingly the most simple, the • Ullo Noticias Ampric. 222. t Venegas Hist, of Calif, i. 66. Supp. Church. Coll. v. 693. Borde Descr. dee Caraibes, p. 16. Ellis Voy. 194, i Labat Voyogcs, li. 114, 115. Tertie, ii. 3S5. ^ Adair'Bllist. of Amer. Indians, 417 150 HISTORY OF [Book IV. reason of man, while rude and destitute of culture, differs so little from the thoughtless levity of children, or the improvident instinct of animals, its exertions in other directions cannot be very considerable. The objects towards which reason turns, and the disquisitions in which it engages, must depend upon the state in which man is placed, and are suggested by his necessities and desires. Disquisitions, which appear the most ne- cessary and important to men in one state of society, never occur to those in another. Among civilized nations, arithmetic, or the art of numbering, is deemed an essential and elementary science : and in our continent, the invention and use of it reaches back to a period so remote as is beyond the knowledge of history. But among savages, who have no property to estimate, no hoarded treasures to count, no variety of objects or multiplicity of ideas to enumerate, arithmetic is a superfluous and useless art. Ac- cordingly, among some tribes in America it seems to be quite unknown. There are many who cannot reckon further than three ; and have no denomination to distinguish any number above it.* Several can proceed as far as ten, others to twenty. When they would convey an idea of any number beyond these, they point to the hair of their head, intimating that it is equal to them, or with wonder declare it to be so great that it cannot be reckoned.! Not only the Americans, but all nations while extremely- rude, seem to be unacquainted with the art of computation.;}: As soon, however, as they acquire such acquaintance or connexion with a variety of objects, that there is frequent occasion to combine or divide them, their knowledge of numbers increases, so that the state of this art among any people may be considered as one standard by which to estimate the degree of their improvement. The Iroquoise,in North Am.erica, as they are much more civilized than the rude inhabitants of Biazil, Paraguay, or Guiana, have likewise made greater advances in this respect ; though even their arithmetic does not extend beyond a thousand, as in their petty transactions they have no occasion for any higher number.§ The Cherokee, a less considerable nation on the same continent, can reckon only as far as a hundred, and to that extent have names for the several numbers ; the smaller tribes in their neighbourhood can rise no higher than tenjl [51]. In other respects, the exercise of the understanding among rude nations is still more limited. The first ideas of every human being must be such as he receives by the senses. But in the mind of man, while in the savage state, there seem to be hardly any ideas but what enter by this avenue. The objects around him are presented to his eye. Such as may be sub- servient to his use, or can gratify any of his appetites, attract his notice; he views the rest without curiosity or attention. Satisfied with considering them under that simple mode in which they appear to him, as separate and detached, he neither combines them so as to form general classes, nor con- templates their qualities apart from the subject in which they inhere, nor ])estovvs a thought upon the operations of his own mind concerning them. Thus he is unacquainted with all the ideas which have been denominated universal, or abstract, or of reflection. The range of his understanding must, of course, be very confined, and his reasoning powers be emplo3'ed merely on what is sensible. This is so remarkably the case with the ruder nations of America, that their languages (as we shall afterAvards find) have not a word to express any thing but what is material or corporeal. Time, space, S7ihstance, and a thousand terms, which represent abstract and universal ideas, are altogether unknown to them. II A naked savage, cowering over the fire in his miserable cabin, or stretched under a few * Condam. p. C7. Ptadiiis ap. de Brj'. i^- I2«. Lprv, ibM. 251. Biet. 3r,2. Lettr, Fdif. 23. 314. t DiMnniii Louis, i. 187. Herrera, (inc. 1. lib. iii. c. ."». liiet. 30r.. Horde, 6. J Tliis i« the case with the Greei:!andets, Crantz, i. 225, and \\\\h KatnchatkndalfS, M. l'Abb4 Chappe, iii. J7. ^ Charlev. Nouv. Franc, iii. 402. || .\dair's Hist, of Araer. Indians, 77. ir Cojidam. p. 54. AMERICA. 151 branches which afford him a temporary shelter, has as little inclination as capacity for useless speculation. His thoughts extend not beyond what relates to animal life ; and when they are not directed towards some of its concerns, his mind is totally inactive. In situations where no extraor- dinary effort either of ingenuity or labour is requisite, in order to satisfy the simple demands of nature, the powers of the mind are so seldom roused to any exertion, that the rational faculties continue almost dormanf and unexercised. The numerous tribes scattered over the rich plains of South America, the inhabitants of some of the islands, and of several fertile regions on the continent, come under this description. Their vacant countenance, their staring unexpressive eye, their listless inattention, and total ignorance of subjects which seemed to be the first which should occupy the thoughts of rational beings, made such impression upon the Spaniards, Avhen they first beheld those rude people, that they considered them as animals of an inferior order, and could not believe that they belonged to the human species.* It required the authority of a papal bull to counteract this opinion, and to convince them that the Americans were capable of the functions and entitled to the privileges of humanity.! Since that time, persons more enlightened and impartial than the discoverers or conquerors of America, have had an opportunity of contemplating the most savage of its inhabitants, and they have been astonished and humbled with observing how nearly man in this condition approaches to the brute creation. But in severer climates, where subsistence cannot be procured with the same ease, where men must unite more closely, and act with greater concert, necessity calls forth their talents and sharpens their inven- tion, so that the intellectual powers are more exercised and improved. The North American tribes, and the nativesof Chili, who inhabit the tem- perate regions in the two great districts of America, are people of cultivated and enlarged understandings, when viewed in comparison with some of those seated in the islands, or on the banks of the Maragnon and Orinoco. Their occupations are more various, their system of policy, as well as of war, more complex, their arts more numerous. But even among them, the intellectual powers are extremely limited in their operations, and, unless when turned directly to those objects which interest a savage, are held in no estimation. Both the North Americans and Chilese, when not engaged in some of the fiinctions belonging to a Avarrior or hunter, loiter away their time in thoughtless indolence, unacquainted with any other subject worthy of their attention, or capable of occupying their m.inds.t If even among them reason is so much circumscribed in its exertions, ana never arrives, in its highest attainments, at the knowledge of those general principles and maxims which serve as the foundation of science, we may conclude that the intellectual powers of man in the savage state are destitute of their proper object, and cannot acquire any considerable degree of vigour and enlargement. From the same causes, the active efforts of the mind are few, and on mo';t occasions languid. If we examine into the motives which rouse men to activity in civilized life, and prompt them to persevere in fa- tiguing exertions of their ingenuity or strength, we shall find that they arise chietly from acquired wants and api:>etites. These are numerous and im- portunate ; they keep the mind in perpetual agitation, and, in order to f ratify them, invention nmst be always on the stretch, and industry- must e incessandy employed. But the desires of simple nature are few, and where a favourable climate yields almost spontaneously what suffices to gratify ihem, they scarcely stir the soul, or excite any violent emotion. Hence the people of several tribes in America waste their life in a listless indolence. To be free from occupation, seems to be all the enjoyment • Harrera, de«. 3. lib. ii. c. 15 t Torquem. Mon InJ Ui. 193. t Lafitau, U. S. 132 HISTORY OF [Book IV. towards which they aspire. They will continue whole days stretched out in their hammocks, or seated on the earth in perfect idleness, without changing their posture, or raising their eyes from the ground, or uttering a single word.* Such is their aversion to labour that neither the hope of future good nor the apprehension of future evil can surmount it. They appear equally indift'erent to both, discovering little solicitude, and taking no precautions to avoid the one or to secure the other. The cravings of hunger may rouse them ; but as they devour, with little distinction, whatever will ap- pease its instinctive demands, the exertions which these occasion are of short duration. Destitute of ardour, as well as variety of desire, they feel not the force of those powerful springs which ^ive vigour to the movements of the mind, and urge the patient hand ot industry to perse- vere in its efl'orts. Man, in some parts of America, appears in a form so rude that we can discover no effects of his activity, and the principle ol understanding, which should direct it, seems hardly to be unfolded. Like the other animals, he has no fixed residence ; he has erected no ha- bitation to shelter him from the inclemency of the weather ; he has taken no measures for securing certain subsistence ; he neither sows nor reaps ; but roams about as led in search of the plants and fruits which the earth brings forth fn succession ; and in quest of the game which he kills in the forest, or of the fish which he catches in the rivers. This description, however, applies only to some tribes. Man cannot continue long in this state of feeble ana uninlbrmed infancy. He was made for industry and action, and the powers of his nature, as well as ths necessity of his condition, urge him to fulfil his destiny. Accordingly, among most of the American nations, especially those seated in rigorous climates, some efforts are employed, and some previous precautions are taken, for securing subsistence. The career of regular industry is begun, and the laborious arm has made the first essays of its power. Still, how- ever, the improvident and slothtbl genius of the savage state predomi- nates. Even among those more improved tribes, labour is deemed igno- minious and degrading. It is only to work of a certain kind that a man will deign to put his hand. The greater part is devolved entirely upon the women. One-half of the community remains inactive, while the other is oppressed with the multitude and variety of its occupations. Thus their industry is partial, and the foresight which regulates it is no less limited. A remarkable instance of this occurs in the chief arrange- ment with respect to their manner of living. They depend for their sub- sistence, during one part of the year, on fishing ; during another, on hunt- ing; during a third, on the produce of their agriculture. Though expe- rience has taught them to foresee the return of those various seasons, and to make some provision for the respective exigencies of each, they either want sagacity to proportion this provision to their consumption, or are so incapable of any command over their appetites, that, from their inconsi- derate waste, they often feel the calamities of famine as severely as the rudest of the savage tribes. What they suffer one year does not augment their industry, or render them more provident to prevent similar distresses.! This inconsiderate thoughtlessness about futurity, the effect of ignorance and the cause of sloth, accompanies and characterizes man in every stage of savage life ;J and, by a capricious singularity in his operations, he is then least solicitous about supplying his wants, when the means of satis- fying them are most precarious, and procured with the greatest diffi- culty [52]. III. After viewing the bodily constitution of the Americans, and con- • Bouguer Vov. au P^rou, 102. Borde, 15 f Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 333. Lettr. Edif. 23. 998. Descript. of N. France, Oaborn's Collect, ii. 580. De la PoUierie, ii. 63. t Bancroft's Nat. Hirt. of Guiana, 326. 333. AMERICA. 153 templating the powers of their minds, we are led, in the natural order of inquiry, to consider them as united together in society. Hitherto our re- searches have been confined to the operations of understanding respecting themselves as individuals; now thej will extend to the degree of their sensibility and aflection towards then- species. The domestic state is the first and most simple form of human associa- tion. The union of the sexes among different animals is of longer or shorter duration in proportion to the ease or difficulty of rearing their off- spring. Among those tribes where the season of infancy is short, and the young soon acquire vigour or agility, no permanent union is formed. Na- ture commits the care of training up the offspring to the mother alone, and her tenderness, without any other assistance, is equal to the task. But where the state of infancy is long and helpless, and the joint assiduity of tyoth parents is requisite in tending their feeble progeny, there a more mti- mate connexion takes place, and continues until the purpose of nature be accomplished, and the new race grow up to full maturity. As the infancy of man is more feeble and helpless than that of any other animal, and he is dependent during a much longer period on the care and foresight of his parents, the union between husband and wife came early to be considered not only as a solemn but as a permanent contract. A general state of pro- miscuous intercourse between the sexes never existed but in the imagi- nation of poets. In the infancy of society, when men, destitute of arts and industry, lead a hard precarious life, the rearing of their progeny de- mands the attention and efforts of both parents ; and if their union had not been formed and continued with this view, the race could not have been preserved. Accordingly in America, even among the rudest tribes, a regular union between husband and wife was universal, and the rights of marriage were understood and recognised. In those districts where subsistence was scanty, and the difficuRy cf maintaining a family wa! great, the man confined himself to one wife. In warmer and more fertile provinces, the facility of procuring food concurred with the influence ol climate in inducing the inhabitants to increase the number of their wives.'" In some countries the marriage-union subsisted during life ; in others, the impatience of the Americans under restraint of any species, together with their natural levity and caprice, prompted them to dissolve it on very slight pretexts, and often without assigning any cause. t But in whatever light the Americans considered the obligation of this contract, either as perpetual or only as temporary, the condition of women was equally humiliating and miserable. Whether man has been improved by the progress of arts and civilization in society, is a question which, in ihe wantonness of disputation, has been agitated among philosophers. That women are indebted to the refinements of polished manners, for a happy change in their state, is a point which can admit of no doubt. Tc despise and to degrade the female sex is a characteristic of the savage state in every part of the globe. Man, proud of excelling in strength and i» courage, the chief marks of pre-eminence among rude people, treats woman, as an inferior, with disdain. The Americans, perhaps from that coldness and insensibility which has been considered as peculiar to their constitution, add neglect and harslmess to contempt. The most intelligent travellers jjave been struck with this inattention of the Americans to their women. It is not, as I have already observed, by a studied display of tenderness and attachment that the American endeavours to gain the heart of the woman whom he wishes to marry. Marriage itself, instead of being a union of affection and interests between equals, becomes among them the unnatural conjunction of a master with his slave. It is the observation of ♦ Lettr. Edif. 23. 318. Lafitau McEurf, i. 554. Lcry ap. dc Bry, iii. 234. Journal de Grillet et Bechamel, p. 88. t Lafitau, i. 580. JouielJourn. Histor. 345. Lozano Desc. del Gran Chaw, 70. Hennepin Mneurs dee Sauvagrs, p. 30. 33. Hennepin a: Vol. 1.— : 20 154 HISTORY OF .. [BookIV an author whose opinions are deservedly of great weight, that wherever wives are purchased their condition is extremely depressed.* They become the property and the slaves of those who buy them. In whatever part of the globe this custom prevails, the observation holds. In countries where refinement has made some progress, women when purchased are excluded from society, shut up in sequestered apartments, and kept under the vigilant guard of their masters. In ruder nations they are degraded to the meanest functions. Among many people of America the marriage contract is properly a purchase. The man buys his wife of her parents. Though unacquainted with the use of money, or with such commercial transactions as take place in more improved society, he knows how to give an equivalent for any object which he desires to possess. In some places, the suitor devotes his service for a certain time to the parents ot the maid whom he courts ; in others he hunts for them occasionally, or assists in cultivating their fields and forming their canoes ; in others, he offers presents of such things as are deemed most valuable on account of their usefulness or rarity. t In return for these he receives his wife ; and this circumstance, addsd to the low estimation of women among savages, leads him to con- sider her as a female servant whom he has purchased, and whom he lias a tide to treat as an inferior. In all unpolishsd nations, it is true, the functions in domestic economy which fail naturally to the share of women are so many, that they are subjected to hard labour, and must bear more than their lull portion of the common burden. But in America their con- dition is so peculiarly grievous, and their depression so complete, that servitude is a name too mild to describe their wretched state. A wife among most tribes is no better than a beast of burden, destined to every oifice of labour and tatigue. While the men loiter out the day in sloth, or spend it in amusement, the women are condemned to incessant toil. Tasks are imposed upon them without pity, and services are received without complacence or gratitude. J Every circumstance reminds women of this mortit'ying inferiority. They must approach their lords with rever- ence ; they must regard them as more exalted beings, and are not permitted to eat in their presence. § There are districts in America where this domi- nion is so grievous, and so sensibly felt, that some women, in a wild emo- tion of maternal tenderness, have destroyed their female children in their intancy, in order to deliver thsm from that intolerable bondage to which they knew they were doomed.!! Thus the first institution of social life is perverted. That state of domestic union towards which nature leads the human species, in order to soften the heart to gentleness and humanity, is rendered so unequal as to establish a cruel distinction between the sexes, which forms the one to be harsh and unfeeling, and humbles the other to servility and subjection. It is owing, perhaps, in some measure, to this state of depression, that women in rude nations are far from being prolific. IT The vigour of their constitution is exhausted by excessive fatigue, and the wants and distresses of savage life are so numerous as to force them to take various precautions inorderto prevent too rapid an increase of their progeny. Among wandering tribes, or such as depend chiefiy upon hunting for subsistence, the mother cannot attempt to rear a second child until the first has attained siich a degree of vigour as to be in some measure independent of her care From this motive, it is the universal practice of the American women to suckle their children during several years ;** and, as they seldom marry early, the period of their lertility is over before they can finish the long ♦ Sketches of TTist. of Man, I. 184. f Lafitan Mneurs, tc. i. 560, &c. Charlev. iii. 285, Sec. TIcrr'T.i, dwc. 4. lib. iv. c 7. Duruont, ii. 15'3. J Tcrtre, ii. 382. Borde Relat. des McEurs des Caraihw, p. 21. Biel. 357. Condaiuiiie, p 110. Ferniin. i. 79. ^ Gumilla, i. 153. Barrere, J64. Labat, Voy. ii. 7ft. Clianvalon, 51. Tertre, Ii. 300. || Gumilla, ii. 233. 238. Herrera, dec. 7. lib. ix. c. iv. M Latitau, i. 590. Charlevoix, iii. 30^ ♦• fierrera, dec. 6. lib. i. c. t A M E R I C A. 165 but necessary attendance upon two or three children.* Among' some of the least pohshed tribes, whose in(histry and foresight do not extend so far as to make any regular provision for their own subsistence, it is a maxim not to burden themselves with rearing more than two children ;t and no such numerous families as are frequent in civilized societies are^ to be found among men in the savage state.]; When twins are born, one of them commonly is abandoned, because the mother is not equal to the task of rearing both§ [5o], When a mother dies while she is nursing a child, all hope of preserving its life fails, and it is buried together with her in the same grave. || As the parents are frequently exposed to want by their own improvident indolence, (he ditficulty of sustaining their children becomes so great that it is not uncommon to abandon or destroy them.1i Thus their experience of the difficulty of training up an infant to maturity, amidst the hardsh'-ps of savage life, often stifles the voice of nature among the Americans, and suppresses the strong emotions of parental tenderness. But though necessity compels the inhabitants of America thus to set bounds to the increase of their families, they are not deficient in afTection and attachment to their offspring. They i'eel the power of this instinct in its full force, and as long as their progeny continue feeble and helpless, no people exceed them in tenderness and care.*''' But in rude nations the dependence of children upon their parents is of shorter continuance than in polished societies. When men must be trained to the various functions of civillifeby previous discipline and education, when the knowledge of abstruse sciences must be taught, and dexterity in intricate arts must be acquired, before a young man is prepared to begin his career of action, the attentive feel- ings of a parent are not confined lo the years of infancy, but extend to what is more remote, the establishment of his child in the world. Even then his solicitude does not terminate. His protection may still be requisite, and his wisdom and experience still prove useful guides. Thus a permanent connection is formed ; parental tenderness is exercised, and filial respect returned, throughout the whole course of life. But in the simplicity of the savage state the affection of parents, like the instinctive fondness of animals, ceases almost entirely as soon as their offspring attain maturity. Little in- struction fits them for that mode of life to -ivhich they are destined. The parents, as if their duty were accomplished, when they have conducted their children through the helpless years of infancy, leave them afterwards at entire liberty. Even in their tender age, they seldom advise or admonish, they never chide or chastise them. They suffer them to be absolute masters of their own actions. ft In an American hut, a father, a mother, and their posterity, live together like persons assembled by accident, without seeming to feel the obligation of the duties mutually arising from this coiinection.JJ As filial love is not cherished by the continuance of attention or good offices, the recollection of benefits received in early infancy is too faint to excite it. Conscious of their own liberty, and impatient of restraint, the youth of America are accustomed to act as if they were totally independent. Their parents are not objects of greater regard than other persons. They treat them always with neglect, and often with such harshness and insolence as to fill those who have been witnesses of theirconduct with horror.S^ Thus the ideas which seem to be natural to man in his savage state, as they result necessarily from his circumstances and condition in that period of his progress, * Charlev. iii. 303. Piimont, M^m. snr T/iiiisiane, ii. 2T0. Deny's Hist. Naliir. de r.'\ni^rique, &c. ii. 3C5. Charlev. Ilisi. de Parag. ii. 422. t Terlio'3 Account of Paraguay, &c. Chur'-.h. Collect, vi. 108. Lolt. F.dif. xxxiv. 200. Lozaiinnescr. (13. J Maccleur's Journal, C3. $ l.ctt. Edif. X.200. II Oharlfiv. iii 31)3. LMt. Kditf. .x 200. P Melch. IlernaMdcz Mnnior de Che- ri(|iii. Colbert. Collect. Ori-r. Pap. i. 11 Venega'n Hist. ofCaliforn. i. 82. ** Gumilla, i.211. Bii't. 390. tt (."h.irlev. iii. 272. Biet. 390. Guinilla, i. 213. LatitHU, i. P02. Creu.xii Hist. Canad. p. 71. Fernandez, Retac. Hist, de los Chequit. 33. JJ Cliarlev. Hisl. N. Fr. iii 273. ^^ Gumilla, i. 212. Tertro, ii. 376. Charlev. Hist, de N. France, iii. 300. Cliarlev. Hist, de Parag. i. 11.5. Lozano Descript. del Gran. Chaco, p. 68. 100, 101. Fernand. Relac. Histot. de lo« Chequit. 426. 156 HISTORY OF [Book IV. affect the two capital relations in domestic life. They render the union between husband and wife unequal. They shorten the duration and weaken the force of the connection between parents and children. IV. From the domestic state of the Americans, the transition to the con- sideration of their civil government and political institutions is natural. In every inquiry concerning the operations of men when united together in society, the first object of attention should be their mode of subsistence. Accordingly as that varies, their laws and policy must be different. The Dstitution suited to the ideas and exigencies of tribes which subsist chiefly Jy fishing or hunting, and which have as yet acquired but an imperfect con- ception of any species of property, will be much more simple than those which must take place when the earth is cultivated with regular industry ; and a right of property, not only in its productions, but in the soil itself, is completely ascertained. All the people of America, now under review, belong to the former class. But though they may all be comprehended under the general de- nomination of savage, the advances which they had made in the art of pro- curing to themselves a certain and plentiful subsistence were very unequal. On the extensive plains of South America man appears in one of the rudest states in which he has been ever observed, or perhaps can exist. Several tribes depend entirely upon the bounty of nature for subsistence. They discover no solicitude, they employ little foresight, tliey scarcely exert any industry to secure what is necessary for their support. The Topuyers, of Brazil, the Guaxeros, of Tierra Firme, the Caigvas, the Moxos, and several other people of Paraguay, are unacquainted with eveiy species of cultivation. They neither sow nor plant. Lven the culture of the manioc, of which cassada bread is made, is an art too intricate for their ingenuity, or too fatiguing to their indolence. The roots which the earth produces spontaneously ; the fruits, the berries, and the seeds which they gather in the woods ; together with lizards and other reptiles, which multipl}' ama- zingly with the heat of the climate in a fat soil moistened by frequent rains, supply them with food during some part of the year.* At other times they subsist by fishing ; and nature seems to have indulged the lazi- ness of the South American tribes by the liberality with which she minis- ters in this way to their wants. The vast rivers of that region in America abound with an infinite variety of the most delicate fish. The lakes and marshes formed by the annual overflowing of the waters are filled with all the different species, where they remain shut up, as in natural reservoirs, for the use of the inhabitants. They swarm in such shoals, that in some places they are catched without art or industiy [54]. In others, the na- tives have discovered a method of infecting the water with the juice of certain plants, by which the fish are so intoxicated that they float on the surface and are taken with the hand [55]. Some tribes have ingenuity enough to preserve them without salt, by drying or smoking them upon hurdles over a slow fire.j The prolific quality of the rivers in South America induces many of the natives to resort to their banks, and to de- pend almost entirely for nourishment on what their waters supply with such profusion, j In this part of the globe hunting seems not to have been the first employment of men, or the first eft'oit ot their invention and la- bour to obtain food. They were fishers before they became hunters ; and as the occupations of the former do not call for equal exertions of ac- tivity or talents with those of the latter, people in that state appear to possess neither the same degree of enterprise nor of ingenuity. The * Nieuhofl'. Hist, of Brazil. Clmrcli. Coll. ii. 134. Simon Conquista de Ticira Firmd, p. 166. Teclio, Account of Paraguay, &c. Church, vi. 76. Lettr. EUif. 2:1384.10. 190. Lozano, De- scrip, del. (Jran Chaco, p. 81. Kibas Histor. de los Triuiiifos, &c. p. 7. t Coiidam. 159. Gu- milla, ii. 37. Lettr. Edif. 14. 199. 23. 328. Acugna, Belat. de la Riv. des Amas. 138. J Bar- ren:, Rt'lat. de Fr. Equin. p. 155. A xM E JU C A. 157 petty nations adjacent to the Maragnon and Orinoco are manifestly the most inactive and least intelligent of all the Americans. None but tribes contiguous to great rivers can sustain themselves in this manner. The greater part of the American nations, dispersed over the forests with which their country is covered, do not procure subsistence with thf same facility. For although these forests, especially in the southern continent of America, are stored plentifully with game,* consi- derable efforts of activity and ingenuit}'^ are requisite in pursuit of it. Necessity incited the natives to the one, and taught them the other. Hunting became their principal occupation ; and as it called forth strenu- ous exertions of courage, of force, and of invention, it was deemed no less honourable than necessary. This occupation was peculiar to the men. They were trained to it from their earliest youth. A bold and dexterous nunter ranked next in fame to the distinguished warrior, and an alliance with the former is often courted in preference to one with the latter.t Hardly any device, which the ingenuity of man has discovered for en- snaring or destroying wild animals, was unknown to the Americans. While engaged in this favourite exercise, they shake off the indolence peculiar to their nature, the latent powers and vigour of their minds are roused, and they become active, persevering, and indefatigable. Their sagacity in finding their prey and their address in killing it are equal. Their rea-son and their senses being constantly directed towards this one object, the former displays such fertility of invention and the latter acquire such a degree of acuteness as appear almost incredible. They discern the footsteps of a wild beast, which escape every other eye, and can follow them with certainty through the pathless forest. If they attack their game openly,, their arrow seldom errs from the mark :| if they endeavour to circumvent it by art, it is almost impossible to avoid their toils. Among several tribes, their young men were not permitted to marry until they had given such proofs of their skill in hunting as put it beyond doubt that they were capable of providing for a family. Their ingenuity, always on the stretch, and sharpened by emulation as well as necessity, has struck out many inventions which greatly facilitate success in the chase. The most singular of these is the discoveiy of a poison, in which they dip the arrows employed in hunting. The slightest wound with those envenomed shafts is mortal. If they only pierce the skin, the blood fixes and congeals in a moment, and the strongest animal falls motionless to the ground. Nor does this poison, notwithstanding its violence and subtlety, infect the flesh of the animal which it kills. 1 hat may be eaten with perfect safety, and retain its native relish and qualities. All the nations situated upon the banksof the Maragnon and Orinoco are acquainted with this composition, the chief ingredient in which is the juice extracted from the root of the airare, a species of withe. § In other parts of America they employ the juice of" the manchenille for the same purpose, and it operates with no less fatal activity. To people possessed of those secrets the bow is a more destruc- tive weapon than the musket, and, in their skilful hands, does great exe- cution among the birds and beasts which abound in the forests oi America. But the life of a hunter gradually leads man to a state more advanced. The chase, even where prey is abundant, and the dexterity of the hunter much improved, affords but an uncertain maintenance, and at some seasons Jt myst be suspended altogether. If a savage trusts to his bow alone for food, he and his family will be often reduced to extreme distress [56]. Hardly any region of the earth furnishes man spontaneously with what his wants require. In the mildest climates, and most fertile soils, his own * P. Martyr, Decad. p. 324. Gumilla, ii. 4, &c. Acugna, 1. 156. f Charlev. Histoire de la N. France, iii, 115. t Kiel. Voy. de France Equin. 357. Davies's DiPcov. of the River of Amaz. Purchas, iv. p. 1287. ft Gumilla, ii. 1, &.C. Condani. 308. Recherch. Pliilos. ii 339 Bancroft's Nat Hiat. of Guiana, 2el, &c. 158 II I STORY OF [Book IV. industry and foresifcht must be exerted in some degree to secure a regjular supply of food. Their experience of this surmounts the abhorrence of labour nat>iral to savage nations, and compels them to have recourse to culture, as subsidiary to hunting-. In particular situations, some small tribes may subsist I)y fishing, inaependent of any production of the earth raised by "their own industiy. But throughout all America, Ave scarcely meet with any nation of hunters which does not practise some species of cultivation. The agriculture of the Americans, however, is neither extensive nor laborious. As game and fish are their principal food, all they aim at by cultivation is to supply any occasional defect of these. In the southern continent of America, the natives confined their industry to rearing a few plants, which, in a rich soil and warm climate, were easily trained to ma- turity. The chief of these is maize, well known in Europe by the name of Turkey or Indian wheat, a grain extremely prolific, of simple culture, agreeable to the taste, and affording a strong hearty nourishment. The second is the manioc, which grows to the size of a large shrub or small tree, and produces roots somewhat resembling parsnips. After carefully squeezing out the juice, these roots are grated down to a fine powder, and formed into thin cakes called casmda bread, which, though insipid to the taste, proves no contemptible food.* As the juice of the manioc is a deadly poison, some authors have celebrated the ingenuity of the Ameri- cans in converting a noxious plant into wholesome nourishment. But it should rather be considered as one of the desperate expedients for pro- curing subsistence, to which necessity reduces rude nations ; or, j^erhaps, men were led to the use of it by a progress in which there is nothing marvellous. One species of manioc is altogether free of any poisonous quality, and may be eaten without any preparation but that ol roasting it in the embers. This, it is probable, was hist used by the Americans as food ; and, necessity having gradually taught them the art of separating its pernicious juice from the other species, they have by experience found it to be more prolific as well as more nourishingt [57]. The third is the plantain, which, though it rises to the height of a tree, is of such quick growth, that in less than a year it reAvards the industry of the cultivator with its fruit. This, when roasted, supplies the place of bread, and is both palatable and nourishing [58]. The fourth is ihe pntatoe, whose cul- ture and qualities are too avcII krjown to need any description. The fifth is pimento, a small tree yielding a strong aromatic spice. The Americans, who, like other inhabitants of warm climates, delight in Avhatever is hot and of poignant flavour, deem this seasoning a necessary of life, and mingle it copiously with every kind of food they take. J Such are the various productions, which were the chief object of cul- ture among the hunting tribes on the continent of America ; and Avith a moderate exertion of active and provident industry these might have yielded a full supply to the wants of a numerous people. But men, accustomed to the free and vagrant life of hunters, are incapable of regu- lar application to labour, and consider agriculture as a secondary and inferior occupation. Accordingly, the provision for subsistence, arising from cultivation, Avas so limited and scanty among the Americans, that, upon any accidental failure of their usual success in hunting, they Avere often reduced to extreme distress. In the islands, the mode of subsisting was considerably different. None of the large animals which abound on the continent Avere known there. Only four species of quadrupeds, besides a kind of small dumb dog, * Sloane Hist, of Jnm. Tntrod. \i. ]8. Lahat, i. n04. Arnsta, Hist. Ind. Occid. Natur. lib. iv. c. 17. Ulloa, i. 62. AiiLilet, Jlom. sur le Ma^'nioc. Ili.st. dus Plantes, torn. ii. p. 65, &;c. t Martvr, Decad. .TOl. Labat, i. 4]1. Giumlla. iii. 1<)2. Macliuciia Milic. Iiidiajia, 164. t Giuiiilla, iii. 171. Acosta, lib. iv. c. 20. AMERICA. 159 existed in the islands, the biggest of ^vhich did not exceed the size of a rabbit.* To hunt such a diminutive prey was an occupation which required no effort either of activity or courage. The cl)ief eniploynieni of a hunter in the islts was to kill birds, which on the continent are deemed ignoble game, and left chieily to the pursuit of boys.t This want of animals, as well as their peculiar situation, led the islanders to depend principally upon fishing for their subsistence. J Their rivers, and the sea with which they are surrounded, supplied them with this species of food. At some particular seasons, turtle, crabs, and other shellfish abounded in such numbers that the natives could support themselves with a facility in which their indolence delighted. § At other times, they ate lizards and various reptiles of odious forms.|| To fishing the inhabitants of the islands added some degree of agriculture. Maize [59], manioc, and other plants were cultivated in the same manner as on the continent. But all the fruits of their industry, together with what their soil and climate produced spon- taneously, afforded tliem but a scanty maintenance. Though their demands for food were very sparing, they hardly raised what was sufficient for their own consumption. If a lew Spaniards settled in any district, such a small addition of supernumerary mouths soon exhausted their scanty stores, and brought on a laniine. Two circumstances, common to all the savage nations of America, con- curred with those which 1 have already mentioned, not only in rendering their agriculture imperfect, but in circumscribing their power in all their operations. They had no tame animals ; and they were unacquainted with the useful metnls. In other parts of the globe, man, in his rudest state, appears as lord of the creation, giving law to various tribes of animals, which he has lamed and reduced to subjection. The Tartar follows his prey on the horse which he has reared ; or tends his numerous herds, which turnish liim both with food and clothing : the Arab has rendered the camel docil , and avails himself of its persevering strength : the Laplander has formed the reindeer to be subservient to his will ; and even the people of Kamchatka have trained their dogs to labour. This command over the inferior creatures is one of the noblest prerogatives of man, and among the greatest efforts of his wisdom and power. Without this his dominion is incomplete. He is a monarch who has no subjects, a master without servants, and must per- form every operation by the strength of his own arm. Such was the con- dition of ail the rude nations in America. Their reason was so little improved, or their union so incomplete, that they seem not to have been conscious of ihe supejiority of their nature, and suffered all the animal creation to retain its liberty, without establishing their own authority over any one species. Most of the animals, indeed, which have been rendered domestic in our continent, do not exist in the New World ; but those peculiar to it are neither so fierce nor so formidable as to have exempted them from servitude. There are some animals of the same species on both continents. But the rein-deer, which hns been tamed and broken to tlie yoke in the one hemisphere, runs wild in the other. The bison of America is manifestly of the same species with the horned cattle of the other hemisphere. U The latter, even among the rudest nations in our con- tinent, have been rendered domestic ; and, in consequence of his dominion over them, man can accomplish works of labour with greater facility, and has made a great addition to his n)eans of subsistence. The inhabit- ants of many regions of the New World, where the bison abounds, might have derived the same advantages from it. It is not of a nature so indocile, but that it might have been trained to be as subservient to man * Ovicdo, lib. xii. in proem. t Ribas Hist, dc los Triumph, p. 13. De la Potlierie, ii. 33. iii. 20. i Oviedo, lib. liii. c. 1. Goiiiara, Hist. Gciicr. c. 28. ^ Goniara, ilist. ticuei. c 9 Labat, ii. 221, &.& |] Ovicdo, lib. xiii c 3 M BufTon. ortic. Bison 160 H I S T O R Y O F [Book IV. as our cattle* But a savage, in that uncultivated state wherein the Americans were discovered, is the enemy of the other animals, not their superior. He wastes and destroys, but knows not how to multiply or to govern them.t This, perhaps, is the most notable distinction between the inhabitants of the Ancient and New Worlds, and a high pre-eminence of civilized men above such as continue rude. The greatest operations of man in changing and improving the face of nature, as well as his most considerable efforts In cultivating the earth, are accomplished by means of the aid which he receives from the animals that he has tamed, and employs in labour. It is by their strength that he subdues the stubborn soil, and converts the desert or marsh into a fruitful field. But man, in his civilized state, is so acv;ustomed to the service of the domestic animals, that he seldom reflects upon the vast benefits which he derives from it. If we were to suppose him, even when most improved, to be deprived of their useful ministry, his empire over nature must in some measure cease, and he would remain a feeble animal, at a loss how to subsist, and incapable of attempt- ing such arduous undertakings as their assistance enables him to execute with ease. It is a doubtful point, whether the dominion of man over the animal creation, or his acquiring the useful metals, has contributed most to extend his power. The era of this important discovery is unknown, and in our hemisphere very remote. It is only by tradition, or by digging up some rude instruments of our forefathers, that we learn that mankind were originally unacquainted with the use of metals, and endeavoured to supply the want of them by employing flints, shells, bones, and other hard sub- stances, for the same purposes which metals serve among polished nations. Nature completes the formation of some metals. Gold, silver, and copper, are found in their perfect state in the clefts of rocks, in the sides of mountains, r\T the channels of rivers. These were accordingly the metals first known, and first applied to use. But iron, the most serviceable of all, and to which man is most indebted, is never discovered in its perfect form ; its gross and stubborn ore must feel twice the force of fire, and go through two laborious processes, before it becomes fit for use. Man was long acquainted with the other metals betbre he acquired the art of fabricating iron, or attained such ingenuity as to perfect an invention, to which he is indebted for those instruments wherewith he subdues the earth, and com- mands all its inhabitants. But in this, as well as in many other respects, the inferiority of the Americans was conspicuous. All the savage tribes, scattered over the continent and islands, were totally unacquainted with the metals which their soil produces in great abundance, if we except some trifling quantity of gold, which they picked up in the torrents that descended from their mountains, and forined into ornaments. Their devices to supply this want of the serviceable metals were extremely nide and awkward. The most simple operation was to them an uncferfaking of immense difficulty and labour. To fell a tree with no other instruments than hatchets of stone, was employment for a month. J To form a canoe into shape, and to hollow it, consumed years ; and it frequently began to rot before they were able to finish it.§ Their operations in agriculture were equally slow and defective. In a country covered with woods of the hardest timber, the clearing of a small field destined for culture required the united efforts of a tribe, and was a work of much time and great toil. This was the business of the men, and their indolence was satisfied with performing it in a veiy slovenly manner. The labour of cultivation was left to the women, who, after digging, or rather stirring the * Nouv. D^couverte par Hennepin, p. 192. K.'ilm, i. 207. t Buffon Hist. Nat. \x. 85. HisL PhiloB. et Polit. des Etahlissem des Europ. dans les deiu Indes, vi. 364 J Gumilla, iii. 196. $ Borde Relat. de« Caraibea, p. 72. AMERICA. 161 field, with wooden mattocks, and stakes hardened in the fire, sowed or planted it ; but they were more indebted for the increase to the fertility of the soil than to their own rude industry.* Agricultuze, even when the strength of man is seconded by that of the animals which he has subjected to the yoke, and his power augmented by the use of the various insti'uments with which the discovery of metals has fur- nished him, is still a work of great labour ; and it is with the sweat of his brow that he renders the earth fertile. It is not wonderful, then, that people destitute of both these advantages should have made so little progress in cultivation, that they must be considered as depending for subsistence on fishing and hunting, rather than on the fruits of their own labour. From this description of the mode of subsisting among the rude American tribes, the form and genius of their political institutions may be deduced, .•^nd we are enabled to trace various circumstances of distinction between them and more civilized nations. 1. They were divided mto small independent communities. While hunting is the chief source of subsistence, a vast extent of territory is requisite for supporting a small number of people. In proportion as men multiply and unite, the wild animals en which they depend for food diminish, or fly at a greater distance from the haunts of their enemy. The increase of a society in this state is limited by its own nature, and the members of it must either disperse, like the game which they pursue, or fall upon some better method of ]5rocuring food than by hunting. ' Beasts of prey are by nature solitary and unsocial, they go not forth to the chase in herds, but delight in those recesses of the forest where they can roam and destroy undisturbed. A nation of hunters resembles them both in occupation and in genius. They cannot form into large communities, be- cause it would be impossible to find subsistence ; and they must drive to a distance every rival who may encroach on those domains, which they consider as their own. This was the state of all the American tribes ; the numbers in each were inconsiderable, though scattered over countries of great extent ; they Avere tar removed from one another, and engaged in perpetual hostilities or rivalship-t In America, the word nation is not of the same import as in other parts of the globe. It is applied to small societies, not exceeding, perhaps, two or three hundred persons, but occu pj'ing provinces, greater than some kingdoms in Europe. The country of Guiana, though of larger extent than the kingdom of France, and divided among a greater number of nations, did not contain above twenty-five thousand inhabitants. J In the provinces which border on the Orinoco, one may travel several hundred miles in different directions, without finding a single hut, or observing the footsteps of a human creature. § In North America, where the climate is more rigorous, and the soil less fertile, the desolation is still greater. There, journeys of some hundred leagues have been made through uninhabited plains and forests!! [60]. As long as hunting continues to be the chief employment of man, to which he trusts for subsistence, he can hardly be said to have occupied the earth [61]. 2. Nations which depend upon hunting are in a great measure strangers to the idea of pioperty. As the animals on which the hunter feeds are not bred under his inspection, nor nourished by his care, he can claim no right to them while they run wild in the forest. Where game is so plentiful that it maybe catched with litlle trouble, men never dream of appropriating' what is ol small value, or of easy acquisition. V/here it is so rare, that the labour or danger of the chase requires the united efforts of a tribe, or village, what is killed is a common stock belonging equally to all, who, by their • Gumilla, iii. 166, fcc. Lettr. Edif. xii. 10. f Lozano Descrip. del Gran Chaco, 59. 62. Fernandez ilelac Hist, de los Cliequit. 162. J Voyages de Marchais, iv. 353. $ Gumilla, ii. 101. II M. Fabry, quoted by Buffon, iii. 448. Lafitau, U. 179. Bossu, Xiavela tbrougb Louisiana, t. 111. Vol. I.— 21 » 162 HISTORY OF LBookIV. skill or their courage, have contributed to the success of the excursion. The forest or hunliiig-grounds are deemed the property of the tribe, from which it has a title to exclude everj' rival nation. But no individual arro- gates a right to any district of these in preference to his fellow-citizens. They belong alike to all ; and thither, as to a general and undivided store, all repair in quest of sustenance. The same principles by which they regulate their chief occupation extend to that which is suborainate. Even agriculture has not introduced among them a complete idea of property. As the men hunt, the women labour together, and after they have shared the toils of the seed time, they enjoy the harvest in common.* Among some tribes, the increase of their cultivated lands is deposited in a public gra- nary, and divided among them at stated times, according to their wantsj [62]. Among others, though they lay up separate stores, tl)ey do not acquire such an exclusive right of property, that they can enjoy superfluity while those around them suffer want.J Thus the distinctions arising from the inequality of possessions are unknown. The terms rich or poor enter not into their language ; and being strangers to property, they are unacquainted •with what is the great object of laws and policy, as well as the chief motive which induced mankind to establish the various arrangements of regular governmcnl.§ 3. People in this state retain a high sense of equality and independence. Wherever the idea of property is not established, there can be no distinc- tion among men but what arises from personal qualities. These can be conspicuous oniy on such occasions as call them forth into exertion. In times of danger, or in affairs of intricacy, the wisdom and experience of age are consulted, and prescribe the measures which ought to be pursued. When a tribe of savages takes the field against the enemies of their country, the warrior of most approved courage leads the youth to the combat. || If they go forth in a body to the chase, the most expert and adventurous hunter is foreinost, and directs their motions. But during seasons of tranquillity and inaction, when there is no occasion to display those talents, all pre-eminence ceases. Every circumstance indicates that all the members of the commu- nity are on a level. They are clothed in (he samp simple garb. They feed c'.i the same plain fare. Their houses and furniture are exactly similar. No distinction can arise from the inequality of possessions. Whatever forms dependence on one part, or constitutes superiority on the other, is unknown. All are freemen, all feel themselves to be such, and assert with firmness the rights vyhich belong to that condition. IT This sentiment of independence is imprinted so deeply in their nature that no change of condition can era- dicate it, an^" bend their minds to servitude. Accustomed to be absolute masters of thei. own conduct, they disdain to execute the orders of another ; and having neve/ known control, they will not submit to correction. [68] Many of the Amei. ans, when they found that they were treated as slaves by the Spaniards, dieu of grief; many destroyed themselves in despair.** 4. Among people in this state, government can assume little authority, and the sense of civil subordination nmst remain very imperfect. While the idea of property is unknown, or incompletely conceived ; while the spontaneous productions of the earth, as well as the fruits of industry, are considered as belonging to the public stock, there can hardly be any such subject of difference or discussion among the members of the same commu- nity, as will require the hand of authority to interpose in order to adjust it. Where the right of separate and exclusive possession is not introduced, the ♦ Dr. Furgnson's Essay, 125. t Gumilla, i. 265. Brickell, Hist, of N. Carol. 327. { Deny's Hist. Natur. li. 392, -,93. (S P. Martyr, Decad. p. 45. Veneg. Hist, of Californ. i 66. Lery, Navif. in Brazil, c. 17. 1| Acosta Hist. lib. vi. c. 10. Stadius Hist. Brazil, lib. li. c. 13. De Bry, lii. p. 110. Biet, 361. ir Labat, vi. 124. Brickell. Hist, ol" Carol. 310. ** Oviedo, lib. ill. c 6. p. 97. VegaConquiet. de la Florida,!. 30. ii. 416. Labat, U; 138. Benzo. Hirt. Nov. Orb. lib". Iv. c. 25. AMERICA. 163 great object of law and jurisdiction does not exist.' When the members of alribeare called Into the field, eilher to invade the territories of their ene- mies, or to repel their at'acks ; when tliey are engaged together in the toil and dangers oi' the chase, they then perceive that they are part of a political body. They are conscious of their own connexion with the com- panions in conjunction with whom they act ; and they ibilow and reverence such as excel in conduct and valour. But durii;g the intervaLs between such common eflbrts they seem scarcely to feel the ties of political union* [fc4j. No visible ibrm of government is established. The names of magis- trate and subject are not in use. Every one seems to erjoy his natural independence almost entire. If a scheme of public utility be proposed, the members of the community are lelt at lil)erty to choose whether they will or will not assist in carrying it into execution. No statute imposes any service as a duty, no compulsory laws oblige them to perform it. All their resolutions are voluntary, and How from the impulse of their own minds.t The first step towards establishing a public jurisdiction has not been taken in those rude societies. 1 he right of revenge is left in private hands.| If violence is committed, or blood is shed, the community does not assume the power either of inflicting or of moderating the punishment. It belongs to the family and friends of the p-^rson injured or slain to avenge the wrong, or to accept of the reparation otiered by the aggressor. If the elders interpose, it is to advise, not to decide, and it is seldom their counsels are listened to ; for, as it is deemed pusillanimous to suffer an offender to escape with impunity, resentment is implacable and everlasting. § The object of government among savages is rather foreign than domestic. They do not aim at maintaining inteiior order and police by public regula- tions, or the exertions of any permanent authority, but labour to preserve such union among the members of tlieir tribe, tbat they may watch the motions of their enemies, and act against them with concert and vigour. Such was the form of political order established among the greater part of the American nations. In this state were almost all tlie tribes spread over the provinces extending eastward of the Mississippi, from the mouth of the St. Lawrence to the confines of Florida. In a similar condition were the people of Brazil, the inhabitants of Chili, several tribes in Paragua and Guiana, and in the countries which stretch from the mouth ol' the Orinoco to the peninsula of Yucatan. Among such an infinite number of petty associations, there maybe peculiarities which constitute a distinction, and mark the various degrees of their civilization and in)provement. But an attempt to trace and enumerate these would be vain, as they have not been observed by persons capable of discerning the minute and delicate circinnstances which serve to discriminate nations resembling one another in their general character and features. The description which 1 have given of the political institutions that took place among those rude tribes in America, concerning which we have received most complete informa- tion, will apply, with little variation, to every people, both in its northern and southern division, who have advanced no furtlior in civilization than to add some slender degree of agriculture to fishing and hunting. Imperfect as those institutions may appear, several tribes w^ere not so far advanced in their political progress. Among all those petty nations which trusted for subsistence entirely to fishing and hunting without any species of cultivation, the union was so incomplete, and their sense of mutual- dependence so feeble, that hardly any appearance of government 01 order can be discerned in their proceedings. I'heir wants are few, their objects of pursuit simple, they form into separate tribes, and act together, from • Lozano Desrr. del Gran. Chaco, 93. Melendez TefnrosVerdaderos, li. 23. t Chnrlev. HisL N. France, iii. 2fi« 2 ;8. } Herrera, dfic. 8. lib. iv. c. 8. ^ Charlev. Hist. N. France, iil. 271, 372. Lafiu i. 48G. (;afisini, Hist, de Nucvo Rcyuo ilc Granada, 22G. 164 n 1 b T O K Y OF [booK IV. instinct, habit, or conveniency, rather than from any fonnal concert and association. To this class belong the Californians, several of the small nations in the extensive country of Paragua, some of the people on the banks of the Orinoco, and on the river St. Magdalene, in the new kingdom of Granada.* But tiiough among these last mentioned tribes there was hardly any shadoAv of regular government, and even among those which I first described its authority is slender and confined within narrow bounds, there were, however, some places in America where government was carried far beyond the degree of perfection which seems natural to rude nations. In surveying the political operations of man, either in his savage or civilized state, we discover singular and eccentric institutions, which start as it were from their station, and tly off so wide, that we labour in vain to orin^ them within the general laws of any system, or to account for them by those principles which influence other communities in a similar situa- tion. Some instances of this occur among those people of America whom I have included under the common denomination of savage. These are so curious and important that I shall descnoe them, and attempt to explain their origin. In the New World, as well as in other parts of the globe, cold or temperate countries appear to be the favourite seat of freedom and independence. Theie the mind, like the body, is firm and vigorous. There men, conscious of their own dignity, and capable of the greatest efforts in asserting it, aspire to independence, and their stubborn spirits Stoop with reluctance to the yoke oi^ servitude. In warmer climates, by whose influence the whole frame is so much enervated that present pleasure is the supreme felicity, and mere repose is enjoyment, men acquiesce, almost without a struggle, in the dominion of a superior. Accordingly, if we proceed from north to south along the continent of America, we shall find the power of those vested Avith authority gradually increasing, and the spirit of the people becoming more tame and passive. In Florida, the authority of the sachems, caziques, or chiefs, was not only permanent, but hereditary. They were distinguished by peculiar ornaments, they enjoyed prerogatives of various kinds, and were treated by their subjects with that reverence which people accustomed to subjection pay to a master.! Among the Natchez, a powerful tribe now extinct, formerly situated on the banks of the Mississippi, a difference of rank took place, with which the northern tribes were altogether unacquainted. Some families were reputed noble, and enjoyed hereditarj' dignity. The body of the people was considered as vile, and formed only for subjection. This distinction was marked by appellations which intimated the high elevation of the one state, and the ignominious depression of the other. The former were called Respectable ; the latter, the Stinkards. The great Chief, in whom the supreme authority was vested, is reputed to be a being of superior nature, the brother of the sun, the sole object of their worship. They approach this great Chief with religious veneration, and honour him as the representative of their deity. His v/ill is a laAV, to which all submit with implicit obedience. The lives of his subjects are so absolutely at his dis- posal, that if any one has incurred his displeasure, the offender comes with profound humility and offei-s him his head. Nor does the dominion of the Chiefs end with their lives ; their principal officers, their favourite wives, together with many domestics of inferior rank, are sacrificed at their tombs, that they may be attended in the next world by the same persons who served (hem in this ; and such is the reverence in which they are held, • Venegas, i. 68. Lettr . Edif. 11. 176. Techo Hist, of Parac. ChurchUl, vi. 78. Htat. Gen. iea Voyages, xrv. 74. t Cardenas v Cano Ensayo Chronol. A la Hist, do Florida, p. 46. Le Moyne de MoTg»iwT.*)cmee Florid®, ap. de'Brj', p. 1 ■!, &e. Chailev. Hi«rt. N. Ftance, lii 467, 466. A Al E R I C A. 166 tbat those victims welcome death with exultation, deeming it a recompense of their fidelity and a mark ot' distinction to be selected to accompany their deceased master.* Thus a perfect despotism, with its full train of superstition, arrogance, and cruelty, is established among the Natchez, and, by a singular fatality, that people has tasted of the worst calamities incident to polished nations, though they themselves are not far advanced beyond the tribes around them in civility and improvem.ent. InHispaniola, Cuba, and the larger islands, their caziques or chiefs possessed extensive power. The dignity was transmitted by hereditary right from father to son. Its honours and prerogatives were considerable. Their subjects paid great respect to the caziques, and executed their orders without hesitation or reserve.! They were distinguished by peculiar ornaments, and in order to preserve or augment the veneration of the people, they had the address to call in the aid of superstition to uphold their authority. They delivered their mandates as the oracles of heaven, and pretended to possess the power of regulating the seasons, and of dispensing rain or sunshine, ac- cording as their subjects stood in need of them. In some parts of the southern continent, the power of the caziques seems to have been as extensive as in the isles. In Bogota, which is now a pro- vince of the new kingdom of Granada, there was settled a nation more considerable in number, and more improved in the various arts of life, than any in America, except the Mexicans and Peruvians. The people of Bogota subsisted chiefly by agriculture. The idea of property was introduced among them, and its righis, secured by laAvs, handed down by tradition, and observed with great care.;{; They lived in towns which may be termed large when compared with those in other parts of America. They were clothed in a decent manner, and their hou?es may be termed commodious when compared with those of the small tribes around them. The effects of this uncommon civilization were conspicuous. Government had assumed a regular Ibrm. A jurisdiction was established, which took cognizance of dififerent crimes, and punished them with rigour. A distinction of ranks was known ; their chief, to whom the Spaniards gave the title of monarch, and who merited that name on account of his splendom' as well as power, reigned with absolute authority. He was attended by officers of various conditions ; he never appeared in public without a numerous retinue ; he was carried in a sort of palanquin with much pomp, and har- bingers went before him to sweep the road and strew it with flowers. This uncommon pomp was supported by presents or taxes received from his subjects, to whom their prince was such an object of veneration that none of them presumed to look him directly in the face, or ever approached him but with an averted countenance. § There were other tribes on the same continent, among which, though far less advanced than the people of Bogota in their progress towards refinement, the freedom and inde pendence natural to man in his savage state was much abridged, and their caziques had assumed extensive authority. It is not easy to point out the circumstances, or to discover the causes which contributed to introduce and establish among each of those people a form of government so different from that of the tribes around them, and so repugnant to the genius of rude nations. If the persons who had an opportunity of observing them in their original state had been more atten- tive and more discerning, we might have received information from their conquerors sufficient to guide us in this inquiry. If the transactions of people unacquainted with the use of letters vvere not involved in impene- trable obscurity, we might have derived some information from this * Dumont Memoir. Hist, aur Loiiisianc, i, 1T5. Cliarl^v. Hist. N. France, iii. 419, &c. Lettr. Ertif. 2tj. lOG. 111. t Herrera, dec. 1. lib. i. c. 16. lib. iii. c. 44. p. 88. Life of Columbus, ch. 32. t Piedrahita Hist, dc las Conquist. del Reyno de Granada, p. 46. ^ Herrera, dec. 6. lib. i. c. 2. lib. V. 0. 56. Piedrahiu, e. 5. p. 35, Ac. Gomara, Hisu c. 78: 186 HISTORY OF [Book IV*. domestic source. But as nothing satisfactory can be gathered either from the accounts of the Spaniards, or from their own traditions, we must have recourse to conjectures in order to explain the irregular appearances in the political stale of the people whom I have mentioned. As all those tribes Vvhich had lost their native liberty and independence Avere seated in the torrid zone, or in countries approaching to it, the climate may be supposed to have had some influence in forming their minds to that servitude which seems to be the destiny of man in those regions of the globe. But thouglj the influence of climate, more powerful than that of any other natural cause, is not to be overlooked, that alone cannot be admitted as a solution of the point in question. The operations of men are so complex that we must not attribute the form which they assume to the force of a single principle or cause. Although despotism be confined in America to the torrid zone, and to the warm regions bordering nprm it, 1 have already observed that these countries contain various tribes, some of which possess a high degree of tVecJom, and others are altogether unacquainted with the restraints of government. The indolence and timidity peculiar to the inhabitants of the islands, render them so incapable of the sentiments or efforts necessary tor maintaining independence, that there is no occasion to search for any other cause of their tame submission to the will of a supe- rior. The subjection of the Natchez, and of the people of Bogota, seems to have been the consequence of a ditference in their state from that of the other Americans. They were settled nations, residing constantly in one place. Hunting was not the chief occupation of the former, and the latter seem hardly to have trusted to it for any part of their subsistence. Both had made such progress in agriculture and arts that the idea of property was introduced in some degree in the one communit}', and fully established in the other. Among people in this state, avarice and ambition have acquired objects, and have begun to exert their power ; views of interest allure the selfish ; the desire of pre-eminence excites the enterprising ; dominion is courted by both ; and passions unknown to man in his savage state prompt the interested and ambitious to encroach on the rights of their fellow-citizens. Motives, with which rude nations are equally unac- quainted, induce the people to submit tamely to the usurped authority of their superiors. But even among nations in this state, the spirit of subjects could not have been rendered so obsequious, or the power of rulers so unbounded, without the intervention of superstition. By its fatal influence the human mind, in every stage of its progress, is depressed, and its native vigour and independence subdued. Whoever can acquire the direction of this formidable engine, is secure of dominion over his species. Unfor- tunately for the people whose institutions are the subject of inquiry, this power was in the hands of their chiefs. The caziques of the isles could put what responses they pleased into the mouths of their Cemis or gods; and it was by their interposition, and in their name, that they imposed any tribute or burden on their people.* The same power and prerogative was exercised by the great chief of the Natchez, as the principal minister as ■well as the representative of- the Sun, their deity. The respect which the people of Bogota paid to their monarchs was likewise inspired by religion, and the heir apparent of the kingdom was educated in the inner most recess of their principal temple, under such austere discipline, and with such peculiar rites, as tended to fill his subjects with high sentiments concerning the sanctity of his character and the dignity of his station."! Tnus superstition, wliich in the rudest period of society, is either altogefhei unknown, or wastes its force in ciiildish unmeaning practices, had acquired such an ascendant over those people of America, who had made some little progress towards refinement, that it became the chief instrument of bending * Herrera, dec 1. lib. Ui. c. 3. t Piedtahita, p. S7 AMERICA. 167 their minds to an untimely servitude, and subjected them, in the beginnina: of their political career, to a despotism hardly less rigorous than that which awaits nations in the last stage of their corruption and decline. V. After examining the political institutions of the rude nations in America, the next object of attention is iheir art of war, or their provision for public security and defence. The small tribes dispersed over Ainerica are not only independent and unconnected, but engaged in perpetual hostilities with one another.* Though mostly strangers to the idea of separate property, vested in any individual, the rudest of the American nations are well acquainted with the rights of each community io its own domains. This right they hold to be perfect and exclusive, entitling the possessor to oppose the encroachment of neighbouring tribes. As it is of the utmost consequence to prevent them from destroying or disturbing the game in their hunting grounds, they guard this national property with a jealous attention. But as their territories are extensive, and the boundaries of them not exactly ascertained, innumerable subjects of dispute arise, which seldom terminate without bloodshed. Even in this simple and primitive state of society, interest is a source of discord, and often prompts savage tribes to take arms in order to repel or punish such as encroach on the lorests or plains to which they trust for subsistence. But interest is not either the most frequent or the most powerful motive of the incessant hostilities among rude nations. These must be imputed to the passion of revenge, which rages with such violence in the breast of savaq,es, that eagerness to gratify it may be considered as the distinguishing characteristic of men in their uncivilized state. Circumstances of powerful influence, both in the interior government of rude tribes, and in their external operations against foreign enemies, concur in cherishing and adding strength to a passion fatal to the general tranquillity. When the right of redressing his own wrongs is left in the hands of every individual, injuries are felt with exquisite sensibility, and vengeance exercised with unrelenting rancour. No time can obliterate the memory of an offence, and it is seldom that it can be expiated but by the blood of the offender. In carrying on their public wars, savage nations are infli;enced by the same ideas, and animated with the same spirit, as in prosecuting private vengeance. In small communities, every man is touched with the injury or affront offered to the body of which he is a member, as if it were a personal attack upon his own honour or safety. The desire of revenge is communicated from breast to breast, and soon kindles into rage. As feeble societies can take the field only in small parties, each warrior is conscious of the importance of his own arm, and feels that to it is committed a considerable portion of the public vengeance. War, which between extensive kingdoms is carried on with little animosity, is prosecuted by small tribes with all the rancour of a private quarrel. The resentment of nations is as implacable as that of individuals. It may be dissembled or suppressed, but is never extin- guished ; and often, when least expected or dreaded, it buisis out with redoubled fury.t VVhen polished nations have obtained the glory of victory, or have acqun-ed an addition of territory, they may terminate a war with honour. But savages are not salisiied until they extirpate the community which is the object of their h.itred. They fight, not to conquer, but to destroy. If they engage in hostilities, it is with a resolution never to see ihe face of the enemy in peace, but to prosecute the quarrel with immortal enmity .| The desire of vengeance is the first and almost the only principle which a savage instils into the minds of his children.§ This grows up * Ribiis Hist, de los T.iiimph. p. 9. f Bouclier Hist. Nat. de N. France, p. 93. CharlRV. Hist, de N. Fiance, iii. Sl.'j. 251. Lery ap. dc Bry, iii. 204. Creu.x. Hist. Canad. p. 72. Lozano Descr. del Gran Chaco, 25. Ilennep. Jile»iirs des Sauv. '10. i Chnrlev. Hist. N. Fr. iii. 251. Colden. i. 108. ii. 12S. Barrere, p. 170. 173. ^ Cliarlev. HJsU W. Fr. iii. 326. Lery ap. do Bry, iii. 230. Lozano Hist, de Parage i. 144. 168 HISTORY OF [Book IV. with him as he advances in life ; and as his attention is directed to few objects, it requires a degree of force unknown amon? men whose passions are dissipated and weakened by the variety of their occupations and pursuits. The desire of vengeance, which takes possession of the heart of savages, resembles the instinctive rage of an anim.al rather than the passion of a man. It turns, with undiscerning fury, even against inanimate objects. [f hurt accidentally by a stone, they often seize it in a transport of anger, and endeavour to wreak their vengeance upon it.* If struck Avith an arrow in a battle, they will tear it from the wound, break and bite it with their teeth, and dash it on the ground.f With respect to their enemies the rage of vengeance knows no bounds. When under the dominion of this passion, man becomes the most cruel of all animals. He neither pities, nor forgives, nor spares. The force of this passion is so well understood by the Americans them- selves, that they always apply to it in order to excite their people to take arms. If tlie elders of any tribe attempt to rouse their youth from sloth, if a chief wishes to allure a band of warriors to follow him in invading an enemy's country, the most persuasive topics of their martial eloquence are drawn from revenge. " The bones of our countrymen," say they, " lie uncovered ; their bloody bed has not been washed clean. Their spirits cry against us ; they must be appeased. Let us go and devour the people by whom they were slain. Sit no longer inactive upon your mats ; lift the hatchet, console the spirits of the dead, and tell them that they shall be avenged."! Animated with such exhortations, the youth snatch their arms in a trans- port of fury, raise the song of war, and burn with impatience to imbrue their hands in the blood of their enemies. Private chiefs often assemble small parties and invade a hostile tribe without consulting the rulers of the community. A single warrior, prompted by caprice or revenge, will take the field alone, and march several hundred miles to surprise and cut off a straggling enemy [65], The exploits of a noted warrior, in such solitary excursions, often form the chief part in the history of an American cam- paign [66] ; and their elders connive at such irregulnr sallies, as they tend to cherish a martial spirit, and accustom their people to enterprise and danger.§ But when a war is national, and undertaken by public authority, the deliberations are formal and slow. The elders assemble, they deliver their opinions in solemn speeches, they weigh with maturity the nature of tlu^ enterprise, and balance its beneficial or disadvantageous consequences with no inconsiderable portion of political discernment or sagacity. Their priests and soothsayers are consulted, and sometimes they ask the advice even of their women. !| If the determination be for war, they prepare for it with much ceremony. A leader offers to conduct the expedition, and is accepted. But no man is constrained to follow him ; the resolution of the community to commence hostilities imposes no obligation upon any membc*": to take part in the war. Each individual is still master of his own conduct, and his engagement in tbe service is perfectly voluntary. II The maxims by which they regulate their military operations, though extremely different from those which take place among more civilized ana populous nations, are well suited to their own political state, and the nature of the country in which they act. They never take the field in numerous bodies, as it would require a greater effort of foresight and industry than is usual among savages, to provide for their subsistence during a march of some hundred miles through dreary forests, or during a long voyage upon their lakes and rivers. Their armies are not encumbered with baggage or ♦ Lery ap. de Bry, iii. 190 t 'bid. iii. 208. Herrera, dec. I. lib. vl. c. 8. t Charlev. Hist. N. Fr. iii. 216, 217. Lery ap. de Bry, iii. 204, "in>""i I- 225. Herrcra, dec. l.lib. Ix. c. 6. Oviedo Soniar. p. 53. C. t .lourn. de Grillet et Bectianid dans la Govane, p. 05. Lafitau Moeurs, ii. 4. Torqucm. Monarq. i, 247. Journal Hist, de Juula^ 317. Lery' Hist. Brazil, ap. de Bry, iii. 238, Lozano Descr. del Gran, Chaco, 67, Vol. I.--^^' 178 HISTORY OF t^JooKlV. will perceive the necessity of preparing- proper arms with which to assault or repel an enemy. This, accordingly, has early exercised the ingenuity and invention ol all rude nations. The first ofifensive weapons were doubtless such as chance presented, and the first efforts of art to improve upon these, were extremely awkward and simple. Clubs made of some heavy wood, stakes hardened in the fire, lances whose heads were armed with flint or the bones of some animal, are weapons known to the rudest nations. All these, however, are of use only in close encounter. But men wished to annoy their enemies while at a distance, and the bow and anow is the most early invention for this purpose. This weapon is in the hands of people whose advances in improvement are extremely incon- siderable, and is larailiar to the inhabitants of every quarter of the globe. It is remarkable, however, that some tribes in America were so destitute of art and ingenuity, that they had not attained to the discovery of this simple invention,* and seem to have been unacquainted with the use of any missile weapon. The sling, though in its construction not more complex than the bow, and amone many nations of equal antiquity, was little known to the people of North America,! or the islands, but appears to have been used by a few tribes in the southern continent| [81 J. The people, in some provinces of Chili, aJid those of Patagonia, towards the southern extremity of America, use a weapon peculiar to themselves. They fasten stones, about the size of a fist, to each end of a leather thong of eight feet in length, and swing these round their heads, throw them with such dexterity, that they seldom miss the object at which they aim.§ Among people who had hardly any occupation but war or hunting, the chief exertions of their invention [82], as well as industry, were naturalljr directed towards these objects. With respect to every thing else, their wants and desires were so limited, that their invention was not upon the stretch. As their food and habitations are perfectly simple, their domestic utensils are few and rude. Some of the southern tribes had discovered the art of forming vessels of earthen ware, and baking them in the sun, so as they could endure the fire. In North America, they hollowed a piece of hard wood in the form of a kettle, and filling it with water, brought it to boil, by putting red-hot stones into it [83]. These vessels they used in preparing part of their provisions ; and this may be considered as a step towards refinement and luxuiy ; for men in their rudest state were not acquainted with any method of dressing their victuals but by roasting them on the fire ; and among several tribes in America, this is the only species of cookery yet known.H But the masterpiece of art, aniong the savages of America, is the construction of tlie canoes. An Esquimaux, shut up in his boat of whalebone, covered with the skins of seals, can brave that stormy ocean on which the barrenness of his country compels him to depend for the chief part of his subsistence.!! The people of Canada venture upon their rivers and lakes in boats made of the bark of trees, and so light that two men can carry them, wherever shallows or cataracts obstruct the navigation [84]. In these frail vessels they undertake and accomplish long voyages.** The inhabitants of the isles and of the southern continent form their canoes by hollowing the trank of a large tree, with infinite labour ; and though in appearance they are extremely awkward and unwieldy, they paddle and steer them with such dexterity, that Europeans, well ac- quainted with all the improvements in the science of navigation, have been astonished at the rapidity of their motion, and the quickness of their evo- lutions. Their pirogues, or war boats, are so large as to carry forty or fifty men ; their canoes, employed in fishing and in short voyages are less capa- ♦ Piedrahita Conq. del Nuevo Reyno, Ix. 12. t Nauf. de AIv. Nun. Cabeca dc Vaca, c. x. n 12. t Piedrah. p. 16. « Ovalle's Relation of Chili. Church. Collect. iU. ®. Falkner's Descript. of Patagon. p. 130. 1( Charlev. Hist. N. Fr. iii. 332. TT EUis Voy. 133. •* Lafijau Mceurs, &c. ii. 213, AMERICA. 179 clous.* The form as well as materials of all these various kinds of vessels, is well adapted to the service for which they are destined ; and the more minutely they are examined, the mechanism of their structure, as well as neatness of their fabric, will appear the more surprising. But, in every attempt towards industry among the Americans, one striking quality in their character is conspicuous. They apply to work without ardour, carry it on with little activity, and, like children, are easily diverted from it. Even in operations which seem the most interesting, and \vhere the most powerful motives urge them to vigorous exertions, they labour with a languid listlessness. Their work advances under their baud with such slowness, that an eyewitness compares it to the impercep- tible progress of vegetation.! They will spend so many years in forming a canoe, that it often begins to rot with age before they finish it. They will suffer one part of a roof to decay and perish, before they complete the other.| The slightest manual operation consumes an amazing length of time, and what in polished nations would hardly be an effort of industry, is among savages an arduous undertaking. This slowness of the Ameri- cans in executing works of every kind may be imputed to various causes. Among savages, who do not depend for subsistence upon the efforts of regular industry, time is of so little importance that they set no value upon it ; and provided they can finish a design, they never regard how long they are employed about it. The tools which they employ are so awkward and defective that every work in which they engage must necessarily be tedious. The hand of the most industrious and skilful artist, were it fur- nished with no better instrument than a stone hatchet, a shell, qt the bone of some animal, would find it difficult to perfect the most simple work. It is by length of labour that he must endeavour to supplj^ his defect of power. But above all, the cold phlegmatic temper jjeculiar to the Americans, ren- ders their operations languid. It is almost impossible to rouse them from that habitual indolence to which they are sunk ; and unless when engaged in war or in hunting, they seem incapable of exerting any vigorous effort. Their ardour of application is not so great as to call forth that inventive spirit which suggests expedients for facilitating and abridging labour. They will return to a task day after day, but all their methods of executing it are tedious and operose [85]. Even since the Europeans have commu- nicated to them the knowledge of their instruments, and taught them to imitate their arts, the peculiar genius of the Americans is conspicuous in eveiy attempt they make. They may be patient and assiduous in labour, they can copy with a servile and minute accuracy, but discover little invention and no talents tor despatch. In spite of instruction and example, the spirit of the race predominates ; their motions are naturally tardy, and it is in vain to uige them to quicken their pace. Among the Spaniards in America, the work of an Indian is a phrase by which they describe any thing, in the execution of which an immense time has been employed and much labour wasted.§ VII. No circumstance respecting rude nations has been the object of freater curiosity than- their religious tenets and rites ; and none, perhaps, as been so imperfectly understood, or represented with so little fidelity. Priests and missionaries are the persons who have had the best opportunities of carrying on this inquiry among the most uncivilized of the American tribes. Their minds, engrossed by the ooctrincs of their own religion, and habituated to its institutions, are apt to discover something which resembles those objects of their veneration, in the opinions and rites of every people. Whatever they contemplate they View through one medium, and draw and accommodate it to their own system. They study to reconcile the ♦ Labat, Voyages, ii. 91, &c. 131. t Gumilla, il. 297. } Borde Relat. dea Caralbes p. 28. ^ Voyages de Ulloa, I. 335. Letti. Edif. &c. xv. 348. 180 HISTORY OF [Book IV. institutions which fall under their observation to their own creed, not to explain them accordint!;' to the rude notions of the people themselves. They ascribe to them ideas which they are incapable of forming, and sup- pose them to be acquainted with principles and facts, which it is impossible that they should know. Hence, some missionaries have been induced to believe, that even among the most barbarous nations in America, they had discovered traces, no less distinct than amazing, of their acquaintance with the sublime niysteries and peculiar institutions of Christianity. From their own interpretation of certain expressions and ceremonies, they have con- cluded that these people had some knowledge of the doctrine of the Trinity, of the incarnation of the Son of God, of his expiatory sacrifice, of the virtue of the cross, and of the efficacy of the sacraments.* In such unintelligent and credulous guides we can place little confidence. But even when we make our choice of conductors with the greatest care, we mi;st not follow them with implicit faith. An inquiry into the religious notions of rude nations is involved in peculiar intricacies, and we must often pause in order to separate the facts which our informers relaJe from the reasonings with which they are accompanied, or the theories which they build upon them. Several pious writers, more attentive to the importance of the subject than to the condition of the people whose senti- ments they were endoavouring to discover, have bestowed much unprofit- able labour in researches of this nature [86]. There are two fundamental doctrines, upon which the whole system of religion, as far as it can be discovered by the light of nature, is established. The one respects the being of a God, the other the immortality of the soul. To discover the ideas of the uncultivated nations under our review, with regard to those important points, is not only an object of curiosity, but may afford instruction. To these two articles I shall confine mv researches, leaving subordinate opinions, and the detail of local superstitfons, to more minute inquirers. Whoever has had any opportunity of^ examining into the religious opinions of persons in the inferior ranks or life, even in the most enlightened and civilized nations, will find that their system of belief is de- rived from instruction, not discovered by inquiry. That numerous part of the human species, whose lot is labour, whose principal and almost sole occu- pation is to secure subsistence, views the arrangement and operations of nature with little reflection, and has neither leisure nor capacity lor enter- ing into that path of refined and intricate speculation which conducts to the knowledge of the principles of natural religion. In the early and most rude periods of savage life, such disquisitions are altogether unknown. When the intellectual powers are just beginning to unfold, and their first feeble exertions are directed towards a few objects of primary necessity and use ; when the faculties of the mind are so limited as not to have formed abstract or general ideas ; when language is so barren as to be destitute of names to distinguish any thing that is not perceived by some of the senses ; it is preposterous to expect that man should be capable of tracing with accuracy the relation between cause and effect ; or to suppose that he should rise from the contemplation of the one to the knowledge of the other, and form just conceptions of a Deity, as the Creator and Governor of the universe. The idea of creation is so familiar, wherever the mind is enlarged by science and illuminated with revelation, that we seldom reflect how profound and abstruse this idea is, or consider what progress man must have made in observation and research, before he could arrive at any knowledge of this elementary principle in religion. Accordingly, several tribes have been discovered in America, which have no idea whatever of a Supreme Being, and no rites of religious worship. Inattentive to that * Venegasi, I. 88. 02. Torqueraada, ii. 445. Garcia Origen. 122. Herrera, dec. 4. lib. ix. c. T. dec. 5, lib. iv. c. 7. AMERICA 181 magnificent spectacle of beauty and order presented to their view, unac- customed to reflect either upon what they themselves are, or to inquire who is the author of their existence, men, in their savage state, pass their days like the animals around them, without knov^'ledge or veneration of any superior power. Some rude tribes have not in their language any name for the Deity, nor have the most accurate observers been able to discover any practice or institution which seemed to imply that they recognised his authority, or were solicitous to obtain his favour* [87]. It is however onlv among men in the most uncultivated state of nature, and while their intel- lectual faculties are so I'eeble and limited as hardly to elevate them above the irrational creation, that we discover this total insensibility to the im- pressions of any invisible power. But the human mind, formed for religion, soon opens to the reception of ideas, which are destined, when corrected and refined, to be the great source of consolation amidst the calamities of life. Among some o( the American tribes, still in the infancy of improvement, we discern apprehen- sions of some invisible and powerful beings. These apprehensions are originally indistinct and perplexed, and seem to be suggested rather by the dread of impending evils than to flow from gratitude for blessings received. While nature holds on her course v^'ith uniform and undis- turbed regularity, men enjoy the benefits resulting from it, without inquir- ing concerning its cause. But every deviation from this regular course rouses and astonishes them. When they behold events to which they are not accustomed, they search for the reasons of them with eager curiosity. Their understanding is unable to penetrate into these ; but imagination, a more forward and ardent faculty of the mind, decides without hesitation. It ascribes the extraordinary occurrences in nature to the influence of invi- sible beings, and supposes that the thunder, the hurricane, and the earthquake are effects of their interposition. Some such confused notion of spiritual or invisible power, superintending over those natural calamities which frequently desolate the earth, and terrify its inhabitants, may be traced among many rude nations [88]. But besides this, the disasters and dangers of savage life are so many, and men often find themselves in situations so formidable, that the mind, sensible of its own weakness, has no resource but in the guidance and protection of wisdom and power superior to what is human. Dejected with calamities which oppress him, and exposed to dangers vv'hich he cannot repel, the savage no longer relies upon himiSelf ; he feels his own impotence, and sees no prospect of bei-ng extricated, but by the interposition of some unseen arm. Hence, in all unenlightened nations, the first rites or practices which bear any resemblance to acts of religion, have it for their object to avert evils which men suffer or dread. The Manitous or Okkis of the North Americans were amulets or charms, which they imagined to be of such virtue as to preserve the persons who reposed confidence in them from any disastrous event, or they were considered as tutelary spirits, whose aid they might implore in circumstances of distress.! The Cemis of the islanders were reputed by them to be the authors of every calamity that afflicts the human race ; they were represented under the most frightful forms, and religious homage was paid to them with no other view than to appease these furious deilies.J Even am.ong those tribes whose religious system was more enlai^ed, and who had formed some conception of benevolent beings, which delighted in conferring benefits, as well as of malicious powers prone to inflict evil ; superstition still appears • Biet, 539. Lery ap. de Bry, iii. 221. Niouhoff. Church. Coll. ii. 132. Lettr. Edif. 2. 177. Id. 12, IJ. Vencgns, i. 87. Lozano Descr. rid Gran Chaco, 59. Feriiand. Mission, de Chcqiiit. 39. Gumilla, ii. 156, Rochefort Hist, des Aiitilli's, p. 468. Margrave Hisl. in Append, de Chllierisilius, 2c6. Ulloa, Notic. Amer. 336, tc. Barrere, 218, 219. Harcourt Voy. to Guiana, Purch. Pilgr. iv. n l'r/3. Account of Brazil, by a Portuguese. Ibid. p. 1289, Jones's Journal, p. 59. tCliarlev. N. Fr. iu 34j. Stc. Creuiii Hist. Cauab. p. 62, &c, t Oviedo. lib. iii. c. 1. p. 111. P. Martyr, decad. p. lUQ, Jtc. 182 HISTORY OF [Book IV. as the offspring of fear, and all its effortg were employed to avert calami* ties. They were persuaded that their good deities, prompted by the beneficence of their nature, would bestow every blessing in their power, without solicitation or acknowledgment ; and their only anxiety was to soothe and deprecate the wrath of the powers whom they regarded as the enemies of mankind.* Such were the imperfect conceptions of the greater part of the Americans with respect to the interposition of invisible agents, and such, almost uni- versally, was the mean and illiberal object of their superstitions. Were we to trace back the ideas of other nations to that rude state in which history first presents them to our view, we should discover a surprising resemblance in their tenets and practices ; and should be convinced, that in similar circumstances, the faculties of the human mind hold nearly the same course in their progress, and arrive at almost the same conclusions. The impressions of fear are conspicuous in all the systems of superstition formed in this situation. The most exalted notions of men rise no higher than to a perplexed apprehension of certain beings, whose power, though supernatural, is limited as well as partial. But, among other tribes, which have been longer united, or have made greater progress in improvement, we discern some feeble pointing towards more just and adequate conceptions of the power that presides in nature. They seem to perceive that there must be some universal cause to whom all things are indebted for their being. If we may judge by some of their expressions, they appear to acknowledge a divine power to be the maker of the world, and the disposer of all events. They denominate him the Great Spirit.] But these ideas are faint and confused, and when they attempt to explain them, it is manifest that among them the word spirit has a meaning veiy different from that in which we employ it, and that they have no concep- tion of any deity but what is corporeal. They believe their gods to be of the human form, though of a nature more excellent than man, and retail such wild incoherent fables concerning their functions and operations, as are altogether unworthy of a place in history. Even among these tribes, there is no established form of public worship ; there are no temples erected in honour of their deities ; and no ministers peculiarly consecrated to their service. They have the knowledge, however, of several superstitious ceremonies and practices handed down to them by tradition, and to these they have recourse with a childish credidity, when roused by any emer- gence from their usual insensibility, and excited to acknowledge the power, and to implore the protection of superior beings, j The tribe of the Natchez, and the people of Bogota, had advanced beyond the other uncultivated nations of America in their ideas of religion, as well as in their political institutions; and it is no less dilHcult to explain the cause of this distinction than of that which we have already consi- dered. The Sun was the chief object of religious worship among the Natchez. In their temples, which were constructed with some magnifi- cence, and decorated with various ornaments, according to their mode of architecture, they preserved a perpetual fire, as the purest emblem of their divinity. Ministers were appointed to watch and feed this sacred flame. The first function of the great chief of the nation, every morning, was an act of obeisance to the Sun ; and festivals returned at stated seasons, which were celebrated by the whole community with solemn but unbloody rites.5 This is the most refined species of superstition known in America, and perhaps one of the inost natural as well as most seducing. The Sun is the apparent source of the joy, fertility, and life, diffused through nature ; and * Tertre, W. 3fi5. Borde, p. 14. State of Vircinia, by a Native, book iii. p. 32, 33. Dumont, j. 165. Bancroft Nat. Hist, of Guiana, 309. "f Chariev. N. Fr. iii. 343. Sagaril, Voy. du Fays des Hurons, 226. % Chariev. N. Fr. iii. 345. Colden, i. 17. § Dumont, i. 158, &c. CbarleT N. Fr. ui. 417, &.C. 439. Lafitau, i. 167. AMERICA. 183 while the human mind, in its earlier essays towards inquiry, contemplates and admires his universal and animating energy, its admiration is apt to stop short at what is visible, without reaching to the unseen cause ; and pays that adoration to the most glorious and beneficial work of God, which IS due only to him who formed it. As fire is the purest and most active of the elements, and in some of its qualities and effects resembles the Sun, it was, not improperly, chosen to be the emblem of his powerful operation. The ancient Persians, a people far superior, in every respect, to tnat rude tribe whose rites I am describing, founded their religious system on similar principles, and established a form of public worship, less gross and excep- tionable than that of any people destitute of guidance trom revelation. This surprising coincidence in sentiment between two nations, in such different states of improvement, is one of the many singular and unaccount- able circumstances which occur in the history of human affairs. Among the people of Bogota, the Sun and Moon were, likewise, the chief objects of veneration. Their system of religion was more regular and complete, though fess pure, than that of the Natchez. They had temples, altars, priests, sacritices, and that long train of ceremonies, which superstition introduces wherever she has fully established her dominion over the minds of men. But the rites of their worship were cruel and bloody. They offered human victims to their deities, and many of their practices nearly resembled the barbarous institutions of the Mexicans, the genius of which we shall have an opportunity of considering more atten- tively in its proper place.* With respect to the other great doctrine of religion, concerning the immortality of the soul, the sentiments of the Americans were more united : the human mind, even when least improved and invigorated by culture, shrinks from the thoughts of annihilation, and looks forward witn hope and expectation to a state of future existence. This sentiment, resulting from a secret consciousness of its own dignity, from an instinctive longing after immortality, is universal, and may be deemed natural. Upon this are founded the most exalted hopes of man in his highest state of improvement; nor has nature withheld from him this soothing consola- tion, in the most early and rude period of his progress. We can trace this opinion from one extremity of America to the other, in some regions more faint and obscure, in others more perfectly developed, but nowhere unknown. The most uncivilized of its savage tribes do not apprehend death as the extinction of being. All entertain hopes of a future and more happy state, where they shall be forever exempt from the calamities which imbitter human life in its present condition. This future state they con- ceive to be a delightful country, blessed with perpetual spring, whose forests abound with game, whose rivers swarm with fish, where famine is never felt, and uninterrupted plenty shall be enjoyed without labour or toil. But as men, in forming their first imperfect ideas conceining the invisible world, suppose that there they shall continue to feel the same desires, and to be engaged in the same occupations, as in the present world; they natu- rally ascribe eminence and distinction, in that state, to the same qualities and talents which are here the object of their esteem. The Americans, accordingly, allotted the highest place, in their country of spirits, to the skilful hunter, to the adventurous and successful warrior, and to such as had tortured the greatest number of captives, and devoured their flesh. t These notions were so prevalent that they gave rise to a universal custom, which is at once the strongest evidence that the Americans believe m a future state, and the best illustration of what they expect there. As they imagine, that departed spirits begin their career anew in the world whither they are gone, that their friends may not enter upon it defenceless and unprovided, ♦ Pieiraliila, Conq. del N. Rcyno, p. 17. Ilerrcra, dec. G. lib. v. c. 6. t Lery ap. de Bry, iii, S22. Cliarlev. N. Fr. iii. 351, &c. De la Potlierie, ii. 45, &c. iii. 5. 184 HISTORY OF [Book IV. they bury together with the bodies of the dead their bow, their arrows, ana other weapons used in hunting or war ; they deposit in their tombs the sliins or stuffs of which they make garments, Indian corn, manioc, venison, domestic utensils, and whatever is reckoned among the necessaries in tlieir simple mode of lile.* In some provinces, upon the decease of a cazique or chief, a certain number of his wives, of his favourites, and of his slaves, were put to death, and interred together with him, that he might appear with the same dignity in his future station, and be waited upon by the same attendants.! This persuasion is so deep rooted that many of the deceased person's retainers offer themselves as voluntary victims, and court the frivilege of accompanying their departed master, as a high distinction, t has been found difficult, on some occasions, to set bounds to this enthu- siasm of affectionate duty, and to reduce the train of a favourite leader to such a number as the tribe could afford to spare [89]. _ Among the Americans, as well as other uncivilized nations, many of the rites and observances which bear some resemblance to acts of religion, have no connection with devotion, but proceed from a fond desire of prying into futurity. The human mind is most apt to feel and to discover this vain curiosity, when its own powers are most feeble and uninformed. Aston- ished with occurrences oi which it is unable to comprehend the cause, it naturally fancies that there is something mysterious and wonderful in their origin. Alarmed at events of which it cannot discern the issue or the con- sequences, it has recourse to other means of discovering them than the exercise of its own sagacity. Wherever superstition is so established as to form a regular system, this desire of penetrating into the secrets of futurity is connected with it. Divination becomes a religious act. Priests, as the ministers of heaven, pretend to deliver its oracles to men. They are the only soothsayers, augurs, and magicians, \\ho profess the sacred and important art of disclosing what is hid from other eyes. But, among rude nations, who pay no veneration to any superintending power, and who have no established rites or ministers of religion, their curiosity, to discover what is future and unknown, is cherisned by a different principle, and derives strength from another alliance. As the diseases of rnen, in the savage state, are (as has been already observed) like those of the animal creation, few, but extremely violent, their im- patience under what they sutler, and solicitude for the recovery of health, soon inspired them with extraordinary reverence for such as pretended to understand the nature of their maladies, and to be possessed of knowledge sufficient to preserve or deliver them from their sudden and fatal efiects. These ignorant pretenders, however, were such utter strangers to the structu'-e of the human frame, as to be equally unacquainted with the causes of its disorders, and the manner in which they will terminate. Superstition, mingled frequently with some portion of craft, supplied what they wanted in science. They imputed the origin of diseases to superna- tural influence, and prescribed or performed a variety of mysterious rites, which they gave out to be of such efficacy as to remove the most dangerous and inveterate maladies. The credulity and love of the marvellous, natural to uninformed men, favoured the deception, and prepared them to be the dupes of those impostors. Among savages, their first physicians are a kind of conjurers or wizards, who boast that they know what is past, and can foretell what is to come. Incantations, sorcjfry, and mummeries of diverse kinds, no less strange than frivolous, ar^ie means which they employ to expel the imaginary causes of maU|;nity ;| and, relying upon * Chronica de Circa dc Leon, c. 28. Sa^ard, 238. Cienx. Hist. Cannd. p. 91. Rochefort. Hist, des Antilt's, m;s. Blel, ;«(l. De la Potherie, ii. 44. iii. 3. Blanco Convers. de Piritii, p. 35. tDumonl Louisiane, i. 208, &c. 0\iedo, lib. v. c. 3. Gomara Hist. Gen. c. 28. P. Mart, decad. 304, Charlev. N. Kr. iii. 421. Heriera, dec. 1. lib. iii. c, 3. P. Melchior Hernandez Memor. d% Cheriqui. Coll. Oris;. Papers, i. Chron. de Cieca de Leon, c.33. ; P. Melch. Hernandez Memo rialde Cheriqui. Collect. Ori^. Pap. i. AMERICA. 185 the efficacy of these, they predict with confidence what will be the fate of their deluded patients. Thus superstition, in its earliest form, flowed from the solicitude of man to be delivered from present distress, not from his dread of evils awaiting him in a future life, and was originally ingrafted on medicine, not on religion. One of the first and most intelligent historians of America, was struck with this alliance between the art of divination and that of physic, among the people of Hispaniola.* But this was not peculiar 10 them. The Jlexis, the Piavas, the Autnoins, or whatever was the distinguishing name of their diviners and charmers in other parts of America, were all the physicians of their respective tribes, in the same manner as the Bubitos of Hispaniola. As their function led them to apply to the human mind when enfeebled by sickness, and as they found it, in that season of dejection, prone to be alarmed with imaginary fears, or amused with vain hopes, they easily induced it to rely with implicit con- fidence on the virtue of their spells, and the certainty of their predictions.! Whenever men acknowledge the reality of supernatural power and dis- cernment in one instance, they have a propensity to admit it in others. The Americans did not long suppose the efficacy of conjuration to be con- fined to one subject. They had recourse to it in every situation of danger or distress. When the events of war were peculiarly disastrous, when they met with unforeseen disappointment in hunting, when inundations or drought threatened their crops with destruction, they called upon their conjurors to begin their incantations, in order to discover the causes of those calamities, or to foretell what would be their issue.J Their con- fidence in this delusive art gradually increased, and maniiested itself in all the occurrences of life. When involved in any difficulty, or about to enter upon any transaction of moment, every individual regularly consulted the sorcerer, and depended upon his instructions to extricate him from the former, as well as to direct his conduct in the latter. Even among the rudest tribes in America, superstition appears in this form, and divination is an art in high esteem. Long before man had acquired such knowledge of a deity as inspires reverence, and leads to adoration, we observe him stretching out a presumptuous hand to draw aside that veil with which Providence kindly conceals its purposes from human knowledge ; and we find him labouring with fruitless anxiety to penetrate into the mysteries of the divine administration. To discern and to worship a superintending power is an evidence of the enlargement and maturity of the human understanding ; a vain desire of prying into futurity is the error of its infancy, and a proof of its weakness. From this weakness proceeded likewise the faith of the Americans in dreams, their observation of omens, their attention to the chirping of birds, and the cries of animals, all which they suppose to be indications of future events ; and it any one of these prognostics is deemed unfavourable, they instantly abandon the pursuit of those measures on which they are most e** tirly bent.§ /III. But if we would form a complete idea of the uncultivated nations of America, we must not pass unobserved some singular customs, which, though universal and characteristic, could not be reduced, with piopriety, to any of the articles into which I have divided my inquiry concerning their manners. Among savages, in every part of the globe, the love of dancing is a favourite passion. As, during a great part of their tune, they languish in ♦ Oviedo, lib. v. c. 1. f Herrera, dec. I. lib. iii. c. 4. Osborne Coll. ii. 8G0. Dumont, i. 169, &c, Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 3C1. 364, &c. Lawson, N. C'ariol. 2t4. Ribas, Triuiiif. p. 17. Biet, 386. Ue la Potherie, ii. 35, &c. * Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 3. Dunioiit, i. 173. Fernand. Relac. de los Chtiiuii. p. 40. Lozano, 84, Margrave, 279. $ Charlev. N. Fr. iii.2G2. 353. Stadius ap do Bry, iii. 120. Creuxj. Hist. Canad. 84. Techo Hist, of Parag. Cliurch. Coll. vi. 37. De la Vothcrio, iii. 6. Vol. [.—24 10 m HISTORY OF [Book IV a state of inactivity and indolence, without any occupation to rouse or interest them, they delight universally in a pastime which calls forth the active powers of their nature into exercise. The Spaniards, when they first visited America, were astonished at the fondness of the natives for dancing, and beheld with wonder a people, cold and unanimated in most of their other pursuits, kindle into life, and exert themselves with ardour, as often as this favourite amusement recurred. Amon^ them, indeed, dancing ought not to be denominated an amusement. It is a serious and important occupation which mingles in every occurrence of public or private life. If any intercourse be necessary between two American tribes, the ambas- sadors of the one approach in a solemn dance, and present the calumet or emblem of peace ; the sachems of the other receive it witli the same ceremony.* If war is denounced against an enemy, it is by a dance ex- pressive of the resentment which they feel, and of the vengeance which they meditate.! If the wrath of their gods is to be appeased, or their bene- ficence to be celebrated ; if they rejoice at the birth of a child, or mourn the death of a friend,J they have dances appropriated to each of these situations, and suited to the different sentiments with which they are then aninSated. If a person is indisposed, a dance is prescribed as the most effectual means of restoring him to health ; and if he himself cannot endure the fatigue of such an exercise, the physician or conjuror performs it io his name, as if the virtue of his activity could be transferred to his patient.§ All their dances are imitations of some action ; and though the music by which they are regulated is extremely simple, and tiresome to the ear by its dull monotony, some of their dances appear wonderfully expressive and animated. The war dance is, perhaps, the most striking. It is the representation of a complete American campaign. The departure of the warriors from their village, their march into the enemy's country, the caution with which they encamp, the address with which they station some of their party in ambush, the manner of surprising the enemy, the noise and ferocity of the combat, the scalping of those who are slain, the seizing of prisoners, the triumphant return of the conquerors, and the tor- ture of the victims, are successively exhibited. The performers enter with such enthusiastic ardour into their several parts ; their gestures, their countenance, their voice, are so wild and so well adapted to their various situations, that Europeans can hardly believe it to be a mimic scene, or view it without emotions of fear and horror.H But however expressive some of the American dances may be, there is one circumstance in them remarkable, and connected with the character of the race. • The songs, the dances, the amusements of other nations, ex- pressive of the sentiments which animate their hearts, are often adapted to display or excite that sensbility which mutually attaches the sexes. Among some people, such is the ardour of this passion, that love is almost the sole object of festivity and joy ; and as rude nations are strangers to delicacy, and unaccustomed to disguise any emotion of their minds, their dances are often extremely wanton and indecent. Such is the Calenda, of which the natives of Africa are so passionately fond ;1[ and such the feats of the dancing girls which the Asiatics contemplate with so much avidity of desire. But among the Americans, more cold and indifferent to their females, from causes which I have already explained, the passion of love mingles but little with tiieir festivals and pastimes. Their sohgs and • De la Potherie Hist. U. 17, &c: Charlev. N. Fr. lil. 211. 297. La Ilontan, i. 100 137. Hen- nepin Decou. 146, &.c. T Charlev. N. Fr. iii. 35)8. Lafitau, i. 523. J .louti-l, 343. Gomara 'Hist. Gen. c. 196. ia£, c. 73. 216 HISTORY OF L^ook V. which could be of use in regulating his conduct, whether he should be obliged to act as a friend or as an ememy . As he found that the antipathy of his new allies to the Mexican nation was no less implacable than had been represented, and perceived what benefit he might derive from the aid of such powerful confederates, he employed all his powers of insinuation in order to gain their confidence. Nor was any extraordinary exertion of these necessary. The Tlascalans, with the levity of mind natural to un- polished men, were, of their own accord, disposed to run from the extreme of hatred to that of fondness. Everything in the appearance and conduct of their guests was to them matter of wonder [107]. They gazed with admiration at whatever the Spaniards did, and, fancying them to be of heavenly origin, were eager not only to comply with their demands, but to anticipate their wishes. They offered, accordingly, to accompany Cortes in his march to Mexico, with all the forces of the republic, under the command of their most experienced captains. But, after bestowing so much pains on cementing this union, all the bene- ficial fruits of it were on the point of being lost by a new effusion of that intemperate religious zeal with which Cortes was animated no less than the other adventurers of the age. They all considered themselves as in- struments employed by Heaven to propagate the Christian faith, and the less they were qualified, either by their knowledge or morals, for such a function, they were more eager to discharge it. The profound veneration of the Tlascalans for the Spaniards having encouraged Cortes to explain to some of their chiefs the doctrines of the Christian religion, and to insist that they should abandon their own superstitions, and embrace the faith of their new friends, they, according to an idea universal among barbarous nations, readily acknowledged the truth and excellence of what he taught ; but contended, that the Teules of Tlascala were divinities no less than the God in whom the Spaniards believed ; and as that Being was entitled to the homage of Europeans, so ;hey were bound to revere the same powers which their ancestors had worshipped. Cortes conthiued, nevertheless, to urge his demand in a tone of authority, mingling threats with his arguments, until the Tlascalans could bear it no longer, and conjured him never to mention this again, lest the gods should avenge on their heads the guilt of having listened to such a proposition. Cortes, astonished and enraged at their obstinacy, prepared to execute by force what he could not accomplish by persuasion, and was going to overturn their altars and cast down their idols with the same violent hand as at Zempoalla, if Father Bartholomew de Olmedo, chaplain to the expedition, had not checked his inconsiderate impetuosity. He represented the imprudence of such an attempt in a large city newly reconciled, and filled with people no less superstitious than warlike ; he declared, that the proceeding at Zempoalla had always appeared to him precipitate and unjust ; that religion was not to be propa- gated by the sword, or infidels to be converted by violence ; that other weapons were to be employed in this ministry ; patient instruction must enlighten the undersianding, and pious example captivate the heart, before men could be induced to aliandon error, and embrace the truth.* Amidst scenes where a narrow minded bigotry appears in such close union with oppression and cruelty, sentiments so liberal and humane soothe the mind with unexpected pleasure ; and at a time when the rights of conscience were little understood in the Christian world, and the idea of toleration unknown, one is astonished to find a Spanish monk of the sixteenth century among the first advocates against persecution, and in behalf of religious liberty. The remonstrances of an ecclesiastic, no less respectable for wisdom than virtue, had their proper weight with Cortes. He left the Tlascalans in the undisturbed exercise of their own rites, requiring only that • B. Dlw, c. 77. p. 54. e. 83, p. 61. AMERICA. 217 they should desist from their horrid practice of oflfenng human victims in sacrifice. Cortes, as soon as his troops were fit for service, resolved to continue his march towards Mexico, notwithstanding the e'irnest dissuasives of the Tlas- calans, who represented his destiuction as unavoidable if he put himself in the power of a prince so faithless and cruel as Montezuma. As he was accompanied by six thousand Tlascalans, he had now the command of forces which resembled a regular army. They directed their course towards Cholula [Oct. 13] ; Montezuma, who had at length consented to admit the Spaniards into his presence, having informed Cortes that he had given orders for his friendly reception there. Cholula was a considerable town, and though only five leagues distant from Tlascala, was formerly an independent state, but had been lately suWected to the Mexican empire. This was considered by all the people of New Spain as a holy place, the sanctuary and chief seat of their gods, to which pilgrims resorted from every province, and a greater number of human victims were offered in its prin- cipal temple than even in that of Mexico.* Montezuma seems to have invited the Spaniards thither, either from some superstitious hope that the gods would not suffer this sacred mansion to be defiled, without pouring down their wrath upon those impious strangers, who ventured to insult their power in the place of its peculiar residence ; or from a belief that he him- self might there attempt to cut them off with more certain success, under Ihe immediate protection ofhis divinities. Cortes had been warned by the Tlascalans, before he set out on his march, to keep a watchful eye over the Cholulans. He himself, though received into the town with much seeming respect and cordiality, observed several circumstances in their conduct which excited suspicion. Two of the Tlas- calans, who were encamped at some distance from the town, as the Cholu- lans refused to admit their ancient enemies within its pre(!incts, having found means to enter in disguise, acquainted Cortes that they observed the women and children of the principal citizens retiring in great hurry every night ; and that six children had been sacrificed in the chief temple, a rite which indicated the execution of some warlike enterprise to be approach- ing. At the same time, Marina the interpreter received information from an Indian woman of distinction, whose confidence she had gained, that the destruction of her friends was concerted ; that a body of Mexican troops lay concealed near the town ; that some of the streets were barricaded, and in others, pits or deep trenches Avere dug, and slightly covered over, as traps into which the horses might fall ; that stones or missive weapons were collected on the tops of the temples, with which to overwhelm the infantry ; that the fatal hour was now n.t hand, and their ruin unavoidable. Cortes, alarmed at this concurring evidence, secretly arrested three of the chief priests, and extorted from them a confession, that confirmed the intel- ligence which he had received. As not a moment was to be lost, he in- stantly resolved to prevent his enemies, and to inflict on them such dreadful vengeance as might strike Montezuma and his subjects with terror. For this purpose, the Spaniards and Zempoallans were drawn up in a large court, which had been allotted for their quarters near the centre of the town ; the Tlascalans had orders to advance ; the magistrates and several of the chief citizens were sent for, under various pretexts, and seized. On a signal given, the troops rushed out and fell upon the multitude, destitute of lead- ers, and so much astonished, that the weapons dropping from their hands, they stood motionless, and incapable of defence. While the Spaniards pressed them in front, the Tlascalans attacked them in the rear. The streets were filled with bloodshed and death. The temples, which afford- ed a retreat to the priests and some of the leading men, were set on fire, • Torquemada Monar. Ind. i. 281, 282. il. 231. Goraara Cron. c. 61. Henera, dee. 2. lib. vil. e. 2 Vol. I.— 28 218 HISTORY OF [Book IV. and they perished in the flames. This scene of horror continued two days ; during which, the wretched inhabitants suffered all that the destructive rage of the Spaniards, or the implacable revenge of their Indian allies, could inflict. At length the carnage ceased, after the slaughter of six thou- sand Cholulans, without the loss of a single Spaniard. Cortes then released the magistrates, and, reproaching them oitterly for their intended treachery, declared, that as justice was now appeased, he forgave the offence, but required them to recall the citizens who liad fled, and re-establish order in the town. Such was the ascendant which the Spaniards had acquired over this superstitious race of men, and so deeply were they impressed with an opinion of their superior discernment, as well as power, that, in obedience > this command, the city was in a few days filled again with people, who, amidst the ruins of their sacred buildings, yielded respectful service to men whose hands were stained with the blood of their relations and fellow- citizens* [lOO]. From Cholula, Cortes advanced directly towards Mexico [Oct. 29], which was only twenty leagues distant. In eveiy place through which he passed, he was received as a person possessed of sufficient power to deliver the empire from the oppression under which it groaned ; and the caziques or governors communicated to him all the grievances which they felt under the tyrannical government of Montezuma, Avilh that unreserved confidence which men naturally repose in superior beings. When Cortes first observed the seeds of discontent in the remote provinces of the empire, hope dawned upon his mind ; but when he now discovered such symptoms of alienation from their n.onarch near the seat of government, he concluded that the vital parts of the constitution were affected, and conceived the most sanguine expectations of overturning a state whose natural strength was thus divided and impaired. While those reflections encouraged the general to persist in his arduous undertaking, the soldiers were no less animated by obser- vations more obvious to their capacity. In descending from the mountains of Chalco, across which the road lay, the vast plain of Mexico opened gradually to their view. When they first beheld this prospect, one of the most striking and beautiful on the face of the earth ; when they observed fertile and cultivated fields stretching further than the eye could reach ; when they saw a lake resembling the sea in extent, encompassed with large towns, and discovered the capital city rising upon an island in the middle, adorned with its temples and turrets ; the scene so far exceeded their imagination, that some believed the fanciful descriptions of romance were realized, and that its enchanted palaces and gilded domes were presented to their sight ; others could hardly persuade themselves that this wonderful spectacle was any thing more than a dream [109]. As they advanced, their doubts were removed, but their amazement increased. They were now fully satisfied that the country was rich beyond any conception which they had formed of it, and flattered themselves that at length they should obtain an ample recompense for all their services and sufferings. Hitherto they had met with no enemy to oppose their progress, though several circumstances occurred which led them to suspect that some design was formed to surprise and cut them off. Many messengers arrived suc- cessively from Montezuma, permitting them one day to advance, requiring them on the next to retire, as his hopes or fears alternately prevailed ; and so wonderful was this infatuation, which seems to be unaccountable on any supposition but that of a superstitious dread of the Spaniards, as beings ot a superior nature, that Cortes was almost at the gates of the capital, before the monarch had determined whether to receive him as a Iriend, or to oppose him as an enemy. But as no sign of open hostility appeared, the Spaniards, without regarding the fluctuations of Montezuma's sentiments, '<' Cortes Relat. Ramuf. lii. 231. B. Diaz, c. 83. Gomara Cron. c 64. Hcrrera, dec. 2. lib. vii e. 1, 2. AMERICA. 219 continued their march along the causeway which led to Mexico through the lake, with great circumspection and the strictest discipline, though without seeming to suspect the prince whom they were about to visit. When they drew near the city, about a thousand persons, who appeared to be of distinction, came forth to meet them, adorned with plumes and clad in mantles of fine cotton. Each of these in his order passed by Cortes, and saluted him according to the mode deemed most respectful and submissive in their country They announced the approach of Mon- tezuma himselt", and soon after his harbingers came in sight. There appear- ed first two hundred persons in a uniform dress, with Tai'ge plumes of fea- thers, alike in fashion, marching two and two, in deep silence, bare boted, WMth their eyes fixed on the ground. These w"ere followed by a company of higher rank, in their most showy apparel, in the midst of whom was Montezuma, in a chair or litter richly ornamented with gold, and feathers of various colours. Four of his principal favourites carried him on their shoulders, others supported a canopy of curious workmanship over his head. Before him marched three officers with rods of gold in their hands, which they lifted up on high at certain intervals, and at that signal all the people bowed their heads -^^^d hid their faces, as unworthy to look on so great a monarch. When he drew near, Cortes dismounted, advancing to- wards him with officious haste, and in a respectful posture. At the same time Montezuma alighted from his chair, and, leaning on the arms of two of his near relations, approached with a slow and stately pace, his attend- ants covering the streets with cotton cloths, that he might not -touch the ground, Cortes accosted him with profound reverence, after the European fashion. He returned the salutation, according to the mode of his country, by touching the earth with his hand, and then kissing it. This ceremony, the customary expression of veneration from inferiors towards those who were above them in rank, appeared such amazing condescension in a proud monarch, who scarcely deigned to consider the rest of mankind as of the same species with himself, that all his subjects firmly believed those per- sons, before whom he humbled himself in this manner, to be something more than human. Accordingly, as they marched through the crowd, the Spaniards frequently, and with much satisfaction, heard themselves deno- minated Teulcs, or divinities. Nothing material passed in this first inter- view. Montezuma conducted Cortes to the quarters which he had pre- pared for his reception, and immediately took leave of him, with a polite- ness not unworthy of a court more refined. " You are now," says he, " with your brothers, in your ow-n house ; refresh yourselves after your fatigue, and be happy until I return."* The place allotted to the Spaniards for their lodging, was a house built by the father of Montezuma. It was surrounded by a stone wall, with towers at proper distances, which served for defence as well as for ornament, and its apartments and courts were so large as to accommodate both the Spaniards and their Jndian allies. The first care of Cortes was to take precautions for his security, by planting the artillery so as to command the different avenues which led to it, by appoint- ing a large division of his troops to be always on guard, and by posting sentinels at proper stations, with injunctions to observe the same vigilant discipline as if they were within sight of an enemy's camp. In the evening, Montezuma returned to visit his guests with the same pomp as in their first interview, and brought presents of such value, not only to Cortes and to his officers, but even to the private men, as proved the liberality of the monarch to be suitable to the opulence of his kingdom. A long conference ensued, in which Cortes learned what was the opinion of Montezuma with respect to the Spaniards. It was an established tra- ♦ Cortes Relat. Ram iii. 232— ias. B. Diaz, c. 83— €8. Gomara Cron. c. Ci, 65. Herrera, dec 8. lib. vU. c. 3, 4, 5. 220 HISTORY OF [Book V. dition, he told him, among the Mexicans, that their ancestors came origin- ally from a remote region, and conquered the provinces now subject to his dominion ; that after tliey were settled there, the great captain who con- ducted this colony returned to his own country, promising that at some future period his descendants should visit them, assume the government, and reform their constitution and laws ; that from what he had heard and seen of Cortes and his followers, he was convinced that they were the very persons whose appearance the Mexican traditions and prophecies taught them to expect ; that accordingly he had received them, not as strangers, but as relations of the same mood and parentage, and desired that they might con- sider themselves as masters in his dominions, for both himself and his sub- jects should be ready to comply with their will, and even to prevent tlieir wishes. Cortes made a reply m his usual style, with respect to the dig- nity and power of his sovereign, and his intention of sending him into that country ; artfully endeavouring so to frame his discourse, that it might coincide as much as possible with the idea which Montezuma had formed concerning the origin of the Spaniards. Next morning, Cortes and some of his principal attendants were admitted to a public audience of the em- peror. The three subsequent days were employed in viewing the city ; the appearance of which, so far superior in the order of its buildings and the number of its inhabitants to any place the Spaniards had beheld in America, and yet so little resembling the structure of a European city, fiUefl them with surprise and admiration. _ Mexico, or Tenuchtitlan, as it was anciently called by the natives, is ■situated in a large plain, evironed by mountains of such height that, though within the torrid zone, the temperature of its climate is mild and healthful. All the moisture which descends from the high grounds, is collected in several lakes, the two largest of which, of about ninety miles in circuit, communicate with each other. The waters of '.he one are fresh, those of the other brackish. On the banks of the latter, and on some small islands adjoining to them, the capital of Montezuma's empire was built. The access to the city was by artificial causeways or streets formed of stones and earth, about thirty feet in breadth. As the waters of the lake during the rainy season overflowed the flat countrj^, these causeways vs'ere of considerable length. That of Tacuba, on the west, extended a mile and a half; that of Tepeaca, on the north-west, three miles ; that of Cuoyacan, towards the south, six miles. On the east* there was no causeway, and the city could be approached only by canoes.t In each of these cause- ways were openings at proper intervals, through which the waters flowed, and. over these beams of timber were laid, which being covered with earth, the causev.'ay or street had every where a uniform appearance. As the approaches to the city were singular, its construction was remarkable. Not only the temples of their gods, but the houses belonging to the monarch, and to persons of distinction, were of such dimensions, that, in comparison with any other buildings which hitherto had been discovered in America, they might be termed magnificent. The habitations of the common peo- ple were mean, resembling the huts of other Indians. But they were all placed in a regular manner, on the banks of the canals which passed through the city, in some of its districts, or on the sides of the streets which inter- sected it in other quarters. In several places were large openings or squares, one of which, allotted for the great market, is said to nave been so spacious, that forty or fifty thousand persons carried on traffic there. In this city, * I am indebted to M. Clavigcro for correcting an error of importance in my description of Mexico. From the east, vvliere Tezeuco was situated, there was no causeway, as I have observed, and yet by some inattention on my part, or on that 3f the printer, in all the former editions one of the causeways was said to lead to Tezeuco. M. Clavigero's measurement of tlie length of these causeways (lllfcrs somewhat from that which I have adopted from F. Torrihio Clavig. ii. p. 73. t F. Torn bio MS. AMERICA. 221 the pride of the New World, and the noblest monument of the industry and art of man, while unacquainted with the use of iron, and destitute of aid from any domestic animal, the Spaniards, who are most moderate in their computations, reckon that there were at least sixty thousand in- habitants.* But how much soever the novelty of those objects might amuse or astonish the Spaniards, they felt the utmost solicitude with respect to their own situation. From a concurrence of circumstances, no less un- expected than favourable to their progress, they had been allowed to penetrate into the heart of a powerful kingdom, and were now lodged in its capital without having once met with open opposition from its monarch. The Tlascalans, however, had earnestly dissuaded them from placing such confidence in Montezuma, as to enter a city of such peculiar situation as Mexico, where that prince would have them at mercy, shut up as it were in a snare, from which it was impossible to escape. They assured them that the Mexican priests had, in the name of the gods, counselled their sovereign to admit the Spaniards into the capital, that he might cut them off there at one blow with perfect security. t 1 hey now perceived too plainly, that the apprehensions of their allies were not destitute of foundation ; that, by breaking the bridges placed at certain intervals on the causeways, or by destroying part of the causeways themselves, their retreat would be rendered impracticable, and they must remain cooped up in the centre of a hostile city, surrounded by multitudes sufficient to overwhelm them, and without a possibility of receiving aid from their allies. Montezuma had, indeed, received them with distinguished respect. But ought they to reckon upon this as real, or to consider it as ieigned ? Even if it were sincere, could they promise on its continuance ? Their safety depended upon the will of a monarch in whose attachment they had no reason to confide ; and an order flowing from his caprice, or a word uttered by him in passion, might decide irrevocably concerning their fate.J These reflections, so obvious as to occur to the meanest soldier, did not escape the vigilant sagacity of their general. Before he set out from Cholula, Cortes had received advice from Villa Rica,§ that Qualpopoca, one of the Mexican generals on the frontiers, having assembled an army in order to attack some of the people whom the Spaniards had encouraged to throw off the Mexican yoke, Escalante had inarched out with part of the garrison to support his allies ; that an engagement had ensued, in which, though the Spaniards were victorious, Escalante, with seven of his men, had been mortally wounded, his horse killed, and one Spaniard had been surrounded by the enemy and taken alive ; that the head of this unfortu nate captive, after being carried in triumph to different cities, in order to convince the people that their invaders were not immortal, had been sent to Mexico. II Cortes, though alarmed with this intelligence, as an indica- tion of Montezuma's hostile intentions, had continued his march. But ai soon as he entered Mexico he became sensible, that, from an excess of confidence in the superior valour and discipline of his troops, as well as from the disadvantage of having nothing to guide him in an unknown country, but the defective intelligence which he had received from people with whom his mode of communication was very imperfect, he had pushed forward into a situation where it was difficult to continue, and from which it was dangerous to retire. Disgrace, and perhaps ruin, was the certain consequence of attempting the latter. The success of his enterprise depended upon supporting the high opinion which the people of New Spain had formed with lespect to the irresistible power of his arms. Upon • CoriesRelat Ram. iil. 239. D. Belat. della grnn Citta de Mexico, par un Gentelhuomo del Cortese. Ram. ibid. 304. E. Herrera,.dec. 2. lib. vii. c. 14, &c. t B. Diaz, c. 85, 86. t Ibid. c. 94. $ Cortes Relat. Ram. iu. 235. C. || B. Diaz, c. 93, 94. Herrera, dec. 2. lib. viii. c. 1. 222 HISTORY OF [BookV. the first symptom of timidity on his part, their veneration would cease, and Montezuma, whom fear alone restrained at present, would let loose upon him the whole force of his empire. At the same time, he knew that the countenance of his own sovereign was to be obtained only by a series of victories, and that nothing but the merit of extraordinary success could screen his conduct from the censure of irregularity. PVoin all these con- .siderations, it was necessary to maintain his station, and to extricate himself out of the difficulties in which one bold step had involved him, by ven- turing upon another still bolder. The situation was trj'ing, but his mind was equal to it; and after revolving the matter with deep attention, he fixed upon a plan no less extraordinary than daring. He determined to seize Montezuma in his palace, and to carry him as a prisoner to the Spanish quarters. From the superstitious veneration of the Mexicans for the person of their monarch, as well as their implicit submission to his will, he hoped, by having Montezuma in his power, to acquire the supreme direction of their affairs ; or, at least, with such a sacred pledge in his hands, he made no doubt of being secure from any effort of their violence. This he immediately proposed to his ofiicers. The timid startled at a measure so audacious, and raised objections. The more intelligent and resolute, conscious that it was the only resource in which there appeared any prospect of safety, warmly approved of it, and brought over their companions so cordially to the same opinion, that it was agreed instantly to make the attempt. At his usual hour of visiting Montezuma, Cortes went to the palace, accompanied by Alvarado, Sandoval, Lugo, Velasquez de Leon, and Daviia, five of his principal officers, and as many trusty soldiers. Thirty chosen men followed, not in regular order, but sauntering at some distance, as if they had no object but curiosity ; small parties were posted at proper intervals, in all the streets leading from the Spanish quarters to the court ; and the remainder of his troops, with the Tlascalan allies, were under arms ready to sally out on the first alarm. Cortes and bis attendants were admitted- without suspicion ; the Mexicans retiring, as usual, out of respect. He addressed the monarch in a tone vety different from that which he had employed in former conferences, )-eprogching him bitterly as the author of the violent assault made upon the Spaniards by one of his ofticers, and demanded public reparation for the loss which they had sustained by the death of some of their campanions, as well as for the insult offered to the great prince whose servants they were. ^ Mon- tezuma, confounded at this unexpected accusation, and changing coloiir, either from consciousness of guilt, or from feeling the indignity with which he was treated, asserted his own innocence with great earnestness, and, aS a proof of it, gave orders instantly to bring Q,ualpopoca and his accomplices prisoners to Mexico. Gortes replied with seeming complaisance, that a declaration so^spectable left no doubt remaining in his own mind, but that something more was requisite to satisfy his followers, whg would never be convinced that Montezuma did not harbour hostile intenfions against them, unless, as an evidence of his confidence and attachment, he removed from his own palace, and took up his residence in the Spanish quartos, where he should be served and honoured as became a great monarch. The first mention of so strange a proposal bereaved Montezuma of speech, and almost of motion. At length indignation gave him utter- ance, and he haughtily answered, " That persons of his rank were not accustomed voluntarily to give up themselves as prisoners ; and were he mean enough to do so, bis subjects would not permit such'an affront to be offered to their sovereign." Cortes, unwilling to e;nploy force, endeavoured alternately to soothe and to intimidate him. The altercation became warm ; and having continued above tliree hours, Velasquez de Leon, an impetuous and gallant young ihan, exclaimed with impatience, "Why AMERICA. 223 waste more time in vain ? Let us either seize iiim instantly, or stab him to the heart." Tho threatening' voice and fierce o^estures with which these words were uttered, struck Montezuma. The Spaniards, he was sensible, /lad now proceeded so far, as left him no hope that they would recede. His own danger was imminent, the necessity unavoidable. He saw both, and, abandoning himself to his fate, complied with their request. His officers were called. He communicated to them his resolution. Though astonished and afflicted, they presumed not to question the will ol their master, but carried him in silent pomp, all bathed in tears, to the Spanish quarters. When it was known that the strangers were conveying' away the Emperor, the people broke out into the wildest transports of griet and rage, threatening the Spaniards with immediate destruction, as the punishment justly due to their iiripious audacity. But as soon as Mon- tezuma appeared, with a seeming' gayety of countenance, and waved his hand, the tumult was hushed; and upon his declaring it to be of his own choice that he went to reside for some time among his new friends, the mul- titude, taught to revere every intimation of their sovereign's pleasure, quietly dispersed.* Thus was a powerful prince seized by a few strangers in the midst of his capital, at noonday, and carried off as a prisoner, without opposition or bloodshed. History contains nothing parallel to this event, either with respect to the temerity of the attempt, or the success of the execution ; and were not all the circumstances of this extraordinary transaction authen- ticated by the most unquestionable evidence, they would appear so wild and extravagant as to go far beyond the bounds of that probability which must be preserved even in fictitious narrations. Montezuma was received in the Spanish quarters with all the ceremo- nious respect which Cortes had promised. He was attended by his own domestics, and served with his usual state. His principal officers had free access to him, and he carried on every function of government as if he had been at perfect liberty. The Spaniards, however, watched him with the scrupulous vigilance which was natural in guarding such an important f)rize [no], endeavouring at the same time to sooth and reconcile him to lis situation by .every external demonstration of regard and attachment. But from captive princes, the hour of humiliation and suffering is never far distant. Q,ualpopoca, his son, and five of the principal officers who served under him, were brought prisoners to the capital [Dec. 4], in consequence of the orders which Montezuma had issued. - The Emperor gave them up to Cortes, that he might inquire into the nature of their crime, and deter- mine their punishment. They were formally tried by a Spanish court martial ; and though they had acted no other part than what became loyal subjects and bravfe men, in obeying the orders of their lawful sovereign, and in opposing the invaders of their country, they .were condemned to be burnt alive. The execution of such atrocious deeds is seldom long sus- pended. The unhappy victims were instantly led forth. *The pile on whicji they were laid was conriposed of theweapons collected in the royal magazine for the public dclience. An innumerable multitude of Mexicans beheld, in silent astonishment, the double insult offered to the majesty ol their empire, an officer of distinction committed to the flames by the author- ity of strangers for having done what he owed in duty to his natural^ove- reign; and the ajrms provided by the foresight of their ancestors for avenging public wrpngs, consumed before their eyes. But these were not. the most shocking indignities which the Mexicans nad to bear. The Spaniards, convinced that Qiialpopoca would not have ventured to attack Escalante without orders from his master, were not * Diaz, c. 95. Gomara Cron. c. 83. Cortes Belat Bam. Ul. p 235, 336 Herrera, dec. 2. 10». vUic. 2,3. r ,.sv , 224 HISTORY OF [Book V satisfied with inflicting vengeance on the instrument employed in commit- ting that crime while the author of it escaped with impunity. Just before Qjaalpopoca was led out to suffer, Cortes entered the apartment of Monte- zuma, followed by some of his officers, and a soldier, carrying a pair of fetters ; and approaching the monarch with a stern countenance told him, that as the persons who were now to undergo the punishment which they merited, had charged him as the cause of the outrage committed, it was necessary that he likewise should make atonement for that guilt ; then turning away abruptly, without waitir^ for a reply, commanded the sol- dier to clap the fetters on his legs. The orders were instantly executed. The disconsolate monarch, trained up with an idea that his person was sacred and inviolable, and considering this profanation of it as the prelude of immediate death, broke out into loud lamentations and complaints. His attendants, speechless with horror, fell at his feet, bathing them with their tears ; and, bearing uj^the fetters in their hands, endeavoured with officious tenderness to lighten their pressure. Nor did their grief and despondency abate, until Cortes returned from the execution, and with a cheerful coun- tenance ordered the fetters to be taken off. As Montezuma's spirits' had sunk with unmanly dejection, they now rose into indecent joy ; and with an unbecoming transition, he passed at once from the anguish of despair to transports of gratitude and expressions of fondness towards his deliverer. In those transactions, as represented by the Spanish historians, we search in vain for the qualities which distinguish other parts of Cortes's cohduct. To usurp a jurisdiction which could not belong to a stranger, who assumed no higher character than that of an ambassador from a foreign prince, and, under colour of it, to inflict a capital punishment on men whose cbndijct entitled them to esteem, appears an act of barbarous cruelty. To^ut the monarch of a great kingdom in irons, and, after such ignominious treat- ment, suddenly to release him, seems to be a display of power no less in- considerate than wanton. According to the common relation, no account can be given either of the one action or the other, but that Cortes, intoxi- cated with success, and presuming on the ascendant which he had acquired over the minds of the Mexicans, thought nothing too bold for him to under- take, or too dangerous to execute. But, i-n one. view, these proceedings, however repugnant to justice and humanity, may have flowed from that artful policy which regulated every part of'^ Cortes's behaviour towards the Mexicans. They had conceived the Spaniards to be an order of beings superior to men. It was of the utmost consequence to cherish this illusion, and to keep up the veneration which it inspired. Cortes wished that shedding the blood of a Spaniard should be deemed the most heinous of all crimes ; and nothing appeared better calculated to establish this opinion than to condemn the first Mexicans who had ventured to commit it to a cruel death, and to oblige their monarch himself to submit to a mor- tifying indignity as an expiation for being accessary to a deed so atro- cious [ill] 1520.] The rigour with which Cortes punished the unhappy persons who first presumed to lay violent hands upon his followers, seerns accord- ingly to have made all the impression that he desired. The spirit of Mon- tezuma was not only overawed but subdued. During six nionths tliat Cortes remained in Mexico, the monarch continued in the Spanish quarters with an appearance of as entire satisfaction and tranquillity as if he had resided there not from constraint, but through choice. His ministers and officers attended him as usual. He took cognisance of all affairs ; every order was issued in his name. The external asp' had achieved, that this intoxication of success seems to have reached Cortes himself; and he behaved on this occasion neither with his usual sagacity nor attention. He not only neglected to visit Montezuma, but embittered the insult by expressions full of contempt for that unfortunate prince and his people. The forces of which he had now AMERICA. 235 the command appeared to him so irresistible that be might assume a higher tone, and lay aside the mask of moderation under which he bad hitherto concealed his designs. Some Mexicans, who understood the Spanish language, heard the contemptuous words which Cortes uttered, and, reporting them to their countrymen, kindled their rage anew. They were now convinced that the intentions of the general were equally bloody with those of Alvarado, and that his original purpose in visitmg their country had not been, as he pretended, to court the alliance of their sovereign, but to attempt the conquest of his dominions. They resumed their arms with the additional fury which this discovery inspired, attacked a considerable body of Spaniards who were inarching towards the great square in which the public market was held, and compelled them to retire with some loss. Emboldened by this success, and delighted to find that their oppressors were not invincible, they advanced the next day with extra- ordinary martial pomp to assault the Spaniards in their quarters. Their number was formidable, and their undaunted courage still more so. Though the artillery pointed against their numerous battalions, crowded together in narrow streets, swept off multitudes at every discharge ; though ever>' blow of the Spanish weapons fell with mortal effect upon their naked bodies, the impetuosity of the assault did not abate. Fresh men rushed forward to occupy the places of the slain, and, meeting with the same fate, wei'e succeeded by others no less intrepid and eager for vengeance The utmost efforts of Cortes's abilities and experience, seconded by the disciplined valour of his troops, were hardly sufficient to defend the forti- fications that surrounded the post where the Spaniards were stationed, into which the enemy were more than once on the point of forcing their way. Cortes beheld with wonder the implacable ferocity of a people who seemed at first to submit tamely to the yoke, and had continued so long passive under it. The soldiers of Narvaez, who fondly imagined that they followed Cortes to share in the spoils of a conquered empire, were astonished to find that they were involved in a dangerous war with an enemy whose vigour was still unbroken, and loudly execrated their own weakness in giving such easy credit to the delusive promises of their new leader.* But surprise and complaints were of no avail. Some immediate and extraordinary efibrt was requisite to extricate themselves out of their present situation. As soon as the approach of evening induced the Mexicans to retire in compliance with their national custom of ceasing from hostilities with the setting sun, Cortes began to prepare for a sally, next day, with such a considerable force as might either drive the enemy out of the city, or compel them to listen to terms of accommodation. He conducted in person the troops destined for this important service. Every invention known in the European art of war, as well as every pre- caution suggested by his long acquaintance with the Indian mode of fight- ing were employed to ensure success. But he found an enemy prepared and determined to oppose him. The force of the Mexicans was greatly augmented by fresh troops, which poured in continually from the country, and their animosity was in no degree abated. They were led by their nobles, inflamed by the exhortations of their priests, and fought in defence of their temples and families, under the eye of their gods, and in presence of their wives and children. Notwithstanding their numbers, and enthusiastic contempt of danger and death, wherever the Spaniards could close with tbem, the superiority of their discipline and arms obliged the Mexicans lo give way. But in narrow streets, and where many of the bridges of com- munication were broken down, the Spaniards could seldom come to a fair rencounter with the enemy, and, as they advanced, were exposed to ibowers of arrows and stones from the tops of houses. After a day of • B. Diaz, c. xam S36 HISTORY OF [Book V. incessant exertion, though vast numbers of the Mexicans fell, and part of the city was burnt, the Spaniards weary with the slaughter, and harassed by multitudes which successively relieved each other, were obliged at length to retire, with the mortification of having accomplished nothing so decisive as to compensate the unusual calamity of having twelve soldiers killed, and above sixty wounded. Another sally, made with greater force, was not more eflfectual, and in it the general himself was wounded in the hand. Cortes now perceived, too late, the fatal error into which he had been betrayed by his own contempt of the Mexicans, and was satisfied that he could neither maintain his present station in the centre of a hostile city, nor retire from it without the most imminent danger. One resource still remained, to try what effect the interposition of Montezuma might have to soothe or overawe his subjects. When the Mexicans approached next morning to renew the assault, that unfortunate prince, at the mercy of the Spaniards, and reduced to the sad necessity of becoming the instrument of his own disgrace, and of the slavery of his people [117], advanced to the battlements in his royal robes, and with all the pomp in which he used to appear on solemn occasions. At sight of their sovereign, whom they had long been accustomed to honour, and almost to revere as a god, the weapons dropped from their hands, every tongue was silent, all bowed theh heads, and many prostrated themselves on the ground. Montezuma addressed them with every argument that could mitigate their rage, or persuade them to cease from hostilities. When he ended his discourse, a sullen murmur of disapprobation ran through the ranks ; to this succeeded reproaches and threats ; and the fury of the multitude rising in a moment above every restraint of decency or respect, flights of arrows and vollej-s of stones poured in so violently upon the ramparts, that before the Spanish soldiers, appointed to cover Montezuma with their bucklers, had time to lift them in his defence, two arrows wounded the unhappy monarch, and the blow of a stone on his temple struck him to the ground. On seeing him fall, the Mexicans were so much astonished, that with a transition not uncommon in popular tumults, they passed in a moment from one extreme to the other, remorse succeeded to insult, and they fled with horror, as if the vengeance of heaven were pursuing the crime which they committed. The Spaniards without molestation carried Montezuma to his apartments, and Cortes hast- ened thither to console him under his misfortune. But the unhappy monarch now perceived how low he was sunk ; and the haughty spirit which seemed to have been so long extinct, returning, he scorned to.survive this last humiliation, and to protract an ignominious life, not only as the prisoner and tool of his enemies, but as the object of contempt or detesta- tion among his subjects. In a transport of rage he tore the bandages from his wounds, and refused, with such obstinacy, to take any nourisiiment, that he soon ended his wretched days, rejecting with disdain all the solicitations of the Spaniards to embrace the Christian faith. Upon the death of Montezuma, Cortes, having lost all hope of bringing the Mexicans to an accommodation, saw no prospect of safely but in at- tempting a retreat, and began to prepare for it. But a sudden motion ot the Mexicans engaged him in new conflicts. They took possession of a high tower in the great temple which overlooked the Spanish quarters, and placing there a garrison of their principal warriors, not a Spaniard could stir without being exposed to their missile weapons. From this post it was necessary to dislodge them at any risk ; and Juan de Escobar, with a numerous detachment of chosen soldiers, was ordered to make (he attack. But Escobar, though a gallant officer, and at the head of troops accustomed to conquer, and who now fought under the eyes of their countrymen, was thrice repulsed. Cortes, sensible that not only the reputation but the safety AMERICA. 237 of his army depended on the success of this assault, ordered a buckler to be tied to his arm, as he could not manage it with his wounded hand, and rushed with his drawn sword into the thickest of the combatants. Encou- raged by the presence of their general, the Spaniards returned to the charge with such vigour, that they gradually forced their way up the steps, and drove the Mexicans to the platform at the top of the tower. There a dreadful carnage began ; when two young Mexicans of high rank, observing Cortes as he animated his soldiers by his voice and example, resolved to sacrifice their own lives in order to cut off the author of ail the calamities which desolated their country. They approached him in a suppliant pos- ture, as if they had intended to lay down their arms, and seizing him in a moment, hurried him towards the battlements, over which they threw themselves headlong, in hopes of dragging him along to be dashed in pieces by the same fall. But Cortes, by his strength and agility, broke loose from their grasp, and the gallant youtlis perished in this generous though unsuc- cessful attempt to save their country.* As soon as the Spaniards became masters of the tower, they set fire to it, and, without farther molestation, continued the preparations for their retreat. This became the more necessary, as the Mexicans were so much asto- nished at the last effort of the Spanish valour, that they began to change their whole system of hostility, and, instead of incessant attacks, endea- voured, by barricading the streets and breaking down the causeways, to cut off the communication of the Spaniards with the continent, and thus to starve an enemy whom they could not subdue. The first point to be de- termined by Cortes and his Ibllowers, was, whether they should march out openly in the face of day, when they could discern every danger, and see how to regulate their own motions, as well as how to resist the assaults of the enemy; or, whether they should endeavour to retire secretly in the night ? The latter was preferred, partly from hopes that their national superstition would restrain the Mexicans from venturing to attack them in the night, and partl}"^ from their own fond belief in the predictions of a Erivate soldier, who having acquired universal credit by a smattering of jarning, and his pretensions to astrology, boldly assured his countrymen of success, if they made their retreat in this manner. They began to move, towards midnight, in three divisions. Sandoval led the van ; Pedro Alva- rado and Velasquez de Leon had the conduct of the rear ; and Cortes com manded in the centre, where he placed the prisoners, among whom were a son and two daughters of Montezuma, together with several Mexicans of distinction, the artillery, the baggage, and a portable bridge of timber in- tended to be bid over the breaches in the causeway. They marched in profound silence along the causeway which led to Tacuba, liecau^^, it was shorter than any of the re'^t, and, lying most remote from the road towards Tlascala and the sea-ooast, had been left more entire by the Mexicans. They reached the first breach in it without molestation, hoping that their retreat was undiscovered. Put the Mexicans, unperceived, had not only wa! hed all their motions "With attention, but had made proper dispositions for a most formidable attack. While the Spaniards were intent upon placing their bridge in the breach, and occupied in conducting their horses and arlillerv along it, they were suddenly alarmed with a tremendous sound of warlike instruments, and a general shout