The Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus (Vol. II)

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S.
S. A. S.
X. M. Y.
EL ALMIRANTE.

No. XXXVII.

Signature of Columbus.

As every thing respecting Columbus is full of interest, his signature has
been a matter of some discussion. It partook of the pedantic and bigoted
character of the age, and perhaps of the peculiar character of the man,
who, considering himself mysteriously elected and set apart from among men
for certain great purposes, adopted a correspondent formality and
solemnity in all his concerns. His signature was as follows:

S.
S. A. S.
X. M. Y.
EL ALMIRANTE.

The first half of the signature, XPO, (for CHRISTO,) is in Greek letters;
the second, FERENS, is in Latin. Such was the usage of those days; and
even at present both Greek and Roman letters are used in signatures and
inscriptions in Spain.

The ciphers or initials above the signature are supposed to represent a
pious ejaculation. To read them one must begin with the lower letters, and
connect them with those above. Signor Gio. Batista Spotorno conjectures
them to mean either Xristus (Christus) Sancta Maria Yosephus, or, Salve
me, Xristus, Maria, Yosephus. The Korth American Review, for April, 1827,
suggests the substitution of Jesus for Josephus, but the suggestion of
Spotorno is most probably correct, as a common Spanish ejaculation is
"Jesus Maria y Jose."

It was an ancient usage in Spain, and it has not entirely gone by, to
accompany the signature with some words of religious purport. One object
of this practice was to show the writer to be a Christian. This was of
some importance in a country in which Jews and Mahometans were proscribed
and persecuted.

Don Fernando, son to Columbus, says that his father, when he took his pen
in hand, usually commenced by writing "Jesus cum Maria sit nobis in via;"
and the book which the admiral prepared and sent to the sovereigns,
containing the prophecies which he considered as referring to his
discoveries, and to the rescue of the holy sepulchre, begins with the same
words. This practice is akin to that of placing the initials of pious
words above his signature, and gives great probability to the mode in
which they have been deciphered.

No. XXXVIII.

A Visit to Palos.

[The following narrative was actually commenced, by the author of this
work, as a letter to a friend, but unexpectedly swelled to its present
size. He has been induced to insert it here from the idea, that many will
feel the same curiosity to know something of the present state of Falos
and its inhabitants that led him to make the journey.]

Seville, 1828.

Since I last wrote to you, I have made what I may term an American
pilgrimage, to visit the little port of Palos in Andalusia, where Columbus
fitted out his ships, and whence he sailed for the discovery of the New
World. Need I tell you how deeply interesting and gratifying it has been
to me? I had long meditated this excursion, as a kind of pious, and, if I
may so say, filial duty of an American, and my intention was quickened
when I learnt that many of the edifices, mentioned in the History of
Columbus, still remained in nearly the same state in which they existed at
the time of his sojourn at Palos, and that the descendants of the intrepid
Pinzons, who aided him with ships and money, and sailed with him in the
great voyage of discovery, still flourished in the neighborhood.

The very evening before my departure from Seville on the excursion, I
heard that there was a young gentleman of the Pinzon family studying law
in the city. I got introduced to him, and found him of most prepossessing
appearance and manners. He gave me a letter of introduction to his father,
Don Juan Fernandez Pinzon, resident of Moguer, and the present head of the
family.

As it was in the middle of August, and the weather intensely hot, I hired
a calesa for the journey. This is a two-wheeled carriage, resembling a
cabriolet, but of the most primitive and rude construction; the harness is
profusely ornamented with brass, and the horse's hend decorated with tufts
and tassels and dangling bobs of scarlet and yellow worsted. I had for
calasero, a tall, long-legged Andalusian, in short jacket, little
round-crowned hat, breeches decorated with buttons from the hip to the
knees, and a pair of russet leather bottinas or spatterdashes. He was an
active fellow, though uncommonly taciturn for an Andalusian, and strode
along beside his horse, rousing him occasionally to greater speed by a
loud malediction or a hearty thwack of his cudgel.

In this style, I set off late in the day to avoid the noontide heat, and,
after ascending the lofty range of hills which borders the great valley of
the Guadalquiver, and having a rough ride among their heights, I descended
about twilight into one of those vast, silent, melancholy plains, frequent
in Spain, where I beheld no other signs of life than a roaming flock of
bustards, and a distant herd of cattle, guarded by a solitary herdsman,
who, with a long pike planted in the earth, stood motionless in the midst
of the dreary landscape, resembling an Arab of the desert. The night had
somewhat advanced when we stopped to repose for a few hours at a solitary
venta or inn, if it might so be called, being nothing more than a vast
low-roofed stable, divided into several compartments for the reception of
the troops of mules and arrieros (or carriers) who carry on the internal
trade of Spain. Accommodation for the traveler there was none--not even
for a traveler so easily accommodated as myself. The landlord had no food
to give me, and as to a bed, he had none but a horse-cloth, on which his
only child, a boy of eight years old, lay naked on the earthen floor.
Indeed the heat of the weather and the fumes from the stables made the
interior of the hovel insupportable; so I was fain to bivouac, on my
cloak, on the pavement, at the door of the venta, where, on waking, after
two or three hours of sound sleep, I found a contrabandista (or smuggler)
snoring beside me, with his blunderbuss on his arm.

I resumed my journey before break of day, and had made several leagues by
ten o'clock, when we stopped to breakfast, and to pass the sultry hours of
mid-day in a large village; whence we departed about four o'clock, and
after passing through the same kind of solitary country, arrived just
after sunset at Moguer. This little city (for at present it is a city) is
situated about a league from Palos, of which place it has gradually
absorbed all the respectable inhabitants, and, among the number, the whole
family of the Pinzons.

So remote is this little place from the stir and bustle of travel, and so
destitute of the show and vainglory of this world, that my calesa, as it
rattled and jingled along the narrow and ill-paved streets, caused a great
sensation; the children shouted and scampered along by its side, admiring
its splendid trappings of brass and worsted, and gazing with reverence at
the important stranger who came in so gorgeous an equipage.

I drove up to the principal posada, the landlord of which was at the door.
He was one of the very civilest men in the world, and disposed to do every
thing in his power to make me comfortable; there was only one difficulty,
he had neither bed nor bed-room in his house. In fact it was a mere venta
for muleteers, who are accustomed to sleep on the ground, with their
mule-cloths for beds and pack-saddles for pillows. It was a hard case, but
there was no better posada in the place. Few people travel for pleasure or
curiosity in these out-of-the-way parts of Spain, and those of any note
are generally received into private houses. I had traveled sufficiently in
Spain to find out that a bed, after all, is not an article of
indispensable necessity, and was about to bespeak some quiet corner where
I might spread my cloak, when fortunately the landlord's wife came forth.
She could not have a more obliging disposition than her husband, but then
--God bless the women!--they always know how to carry their good wishes
into effect. In a little while a small room, about ten feet square, which
had formed a thoroughfare between the stables and a kind of shop or
bar-room, was cleared of a variety of lumber, and I was assured that a
bed should be put up there for me. From the consultations I saw my
hostess holding with some of her neighbor gossips, I fancied the bed was
to be a kind of piecemeal contribution among them for the credit of the
house.

As soon as I could change my dress, I commenced the historical researches
which were the object of my journey, and inquired for the abode of Don
Juan Fernandez Pinzon. My obliging landlord himself volunteered to conduct
me thither, and I set off full of animation at the thoughts of meeting
with the lineal representative of one of the coadjutors of Columbus.

A short walk brought us to the house, which was most respectable in its
appearance, indicating easy, if not affluent, circumstances. The door, as
is customary in Spanish villages during summer, stood wide open. We
entered with the usual salutation or rather summons, "Ave Maria!" A trim
Andalusian handmaid answered to the call, and, on our inquiring for the
master of the house, led the way across a little patio or court, in the
centre of the edifice, cooled by a fountain surrounded by shrubs and
flowers, to a back court or terrace, likewise set out with flowers, where
Don Juan Fernandez was seated with his family, enjoying the serene evening
in the open air. I was much pleased with his appearance. He was a
venerable old gentleman, tall, and somewhat thin, with fair complexion and
gray hair. He received me with great urbanity, and on reading the letter
from his son, appeared struck with surprise to find I had come quite to
Moguer, merely to visit the scene of the embarkation of Columbus; and
still more so on my telling him, that one of my leading objects of
curiosity was his own family connection; for it would seem that the worthy
cavalier had troubled his head but little about the enterprises of his
ancestors.

I now took my seat in the domestic circle, and soon felt myself quite at
home, for there is generally a frankness in the hospitality of Spaniards,
that soon puts a stranger at his ease beneath their roof. The wife of Don
Juan Fernandez was extremely amiable and affable, possessing much of that
natural aptness for which the Spanish women are remarkable. In the course
of conversation with them I learnt, that Don Juan Fernandez, who is
seventy-two years of age, is the eldest of five brothers, all of whom are
married, have numerous offspring, and live in Moguer and its vicinity, in
nearly the same condition and rank of life as at the time of the
discovery. This agreed with what I had previously heard, respecting the
families of the discoverers. Of Columbus no lineal and direct descendant
exists; his was an exotic stock which never took deep and lasting root in
the country; but the race of the Pinzons continues to thrive and multiply
in its native soil.

While I was yet conversing, a gentleman entered, who was introduced to me
as Don Luis Fernandez Pinzon, the youngest of the brothers. He appeared
between fifty and sixty years of age, somewhat robust, with fair
complexion, gray hair, and a frank and manly deportment. He is the only
one of the present generation that has followed the ancient profession of
the family; having served with great applause as an officer of the royal
navy, from which he retired, on his marriage, about twenty-two years
since. He is the one, also, who takes the greatest interest and pride in
the historical honors of his house, carefully preserving all the legends
and documents of the achievements and distinctions of his family, a
manuscript volume of which he lent to me for my inspection.

Don Juan now expressed a wish that, during my residence in Moguer, I would
make his house my home. I endeavored to excuse myself, alleging, that the
good people at the posada had been at such extraordinary trouble in
preparing quarters for me, that I did not like to disappoint them. The
worthy old gentleman undertook to arrange all this, and, while supper was
preparing, we walked together to the posada. I found that my obliging host
and hostess had indeed exerted themselves to an uncommon degree. An old
rickety table had been spread out in a corner of the little room as a
bedstead, on top of which was propped up a grand _cama de luxo_, or
state bed, which appeared to be the admiration of the house. I could not,
for the soul of me, appear to undervalue what the poor people had prepared
with such hearty good-will, and considered such a triumph of art and
luxury; so I again entreated Don Juan to dispense with my sleeping at his
house, promising most faithfully to make my meals there whilst I should
stay at Moguer, and as the old gentleman understood my motives for
declining his invitation, and felt a good-humored sympathy in them, we
readily arranged the matter. I returned therefore with Don Juan to his
house and supped with his family. During the repast a plan was agreed upon
for my visit to Palos, and to the convent La Kabida, in which Don Juan
volunteered to accompany me and be my guide, and the following day was
allotted to the expedition. We were to breakfast at a hacienda, or
country-seat, which he possessed in the vicinity of Palos, in the midst of
his vineyards, and were to dine there on our return from the convent.
These arrangements being made, we parted for the night; I returned to the
posada highly gratified with my visit, and slept soundly in the
extraordinary bed which, I may almost say, had been invented for my
accommodation.

On the following morning, bright and early, Don Juan Fernandez and myself
set off in the caleea for Palos. I felt apprehensive at first that the
kind-hearted old gentleman, in his anxiety to oblige, had left his bed at
too early an hour, and was exposing himself to fatigues unsuited to his
age. He laughed at the idea, and assured me that he was an early riser,
and accustomed to all kinds of exercise on horse and foot, being a keen
sportsman, and frequently passing days together among the mountains on
shooting expeditions, taking with him servants, horses, and provisions,
and living in a tent. He appeared, in fact, to be of an active habit, and
to possess a youthful vivacity of spirit. His cheerful disposition
rendered our morning drive extremely agreeable; his urbanity was shown to
every one whom we met on the road; even the common peasant was saluted by
him with the appellation of _caballero_, a mark of respect ever
gratifying to the poor but proud Spaniard, when yielded by a superior.

As the tide was out, we drove along the flat grounds bordering the Tinto.
The river was on our right, while on our left was a range of hills,
jutting out into promontories, one beyond the other, and covered with
vineyards and fig trees. The weather was serene, the air soft and balmy,
and the landscape of that gentle kind calculated to put one in a quiet and
happy humor. We passed close by the skirts of Palos, and drove to the
hacienda, which is situated some little distance from the village, between
it and the river. The house is a low stone building well whitewashed, and
of great length; one end being fitted up as a summer residence, with
saloons, bed-rooms, and a domestic chapel; and the other as a bodega or
magazine for the reception of the wine produced on the estate.

The house stands on a hill, amidst vineyards, which are supposed to cover
a part of the site of the ancient town of Palos, now shrunk to a miserable
village. Beyond these vineyards, on the crest of a distant hill, are seen
the white walls of the convent of La Babida rising above a dark wood of
pine trees.

Below the hacienda flows the river Tinto, on which Columbus embarked. It
is divided by a low tongue of land, or rather the sand-bar of Saltes, from
the river Odiel, with which it soon mingles its waters, and flows on to
the ocean. Beside this sand-bar, where the channel of the river runs deep,
the squadron of Columbus was anchored, and thence he made sail on the
morning of his departure.

The soft breeze that was blowing scarcely ruffled the surface of this
beautiful river; two or three picturesque barks, called mystics, with long
latine sails, were gliding down it. A little aid of the imagination might
suffice to picture them as the light caravels of Columbus, sallying forth
on their eventful expedition, while the distant bells of the town of
Hnelva, which were ringing melodiously, might be supposed as cheering the
voyagers with a farewell peal.

I cannot express to you what were my feelings on treading the shore which
had once been animated with the bustle of departure, and whose sands had
been printed by the last footstep of Columbus. The solemn and sublime
nature of the event that had followed, together with the fate and fortunes
of those concerned in it, filled the mind with vague yet melancholy ideas.
It was like viewing the silent and empty stage of some great drama when
all the actors had departed. The very aspect of the landscape, so
tranquilly beautiful, had an effect upon me; and as I paced the deserted
shores by the side of a descendant of one of the discoverers, I felt my
heart swelling witfi emotions and my eyes filling with tears.

What surprised me was, to find no semblance of a sea-port; there was
neither wharf nor landing-place--nothing but a naked river bank, with the
hulk of a ferry-boat, which I was told carried passengers to Huelva, lying
high and dry on the sands, deserted by the tide. Palos, though it has
doubtless dwindled away from its former size, can never have been
important as to extent and population. If it possessed warehouses on the
beach, they have disappeared. It is at present a mere village of the
poorest kind, and lies nearly a quarter of a mile from the river, in a
hollow among hills. It contains a few hundred inhabitants, who subsist
principally by laboring in the fields and vineyards. Its race of merchants
and mariners is extinct. There are no vessels belonging to the place, nor
any show of traffic, excepting at the season of fruit and wine, when a few
mystics and other light barks anchor in the river to collect the produce
of the neighborhood. The people are totally ignorant, and it is probable
that the greater part of them scarce know even the name of America. Such
is the place whence sallied forth the enterprise for the discovery of the
western world!

We were now summoned to breakfast in a little saloon of the hacienda. The
table was covered with natural luxuries produced upon the spot--fine
purple and muscatel grapes from the adjacent vineyard, delicious melons
from the garden, and generous wines made on the estate. The repast was
heightened by the genial manners of my hospitable host, who appeared to
possess the most enviable cheerfulness of spirit and simplicity of heart.

After breakfast we set off in the calesa to visit the convent of La
Rabida, about half a league distant The road, for a part of the way, lay
through the vineyards, and was deep and sandy. The calasero had been at
his wit's end to conceive what motive a stranger like myself, apparently
traveling for mere amusement, could have in coming so far to see so
miserable a place as Palos, which he set down as one of the very poorest
places in the whole world; but this additional toil and struggle through
deep sand to visit the old convent of La Rabida completed his confusion--
"Hombre!" exclaimed he, "es una ruina! no hay mas que dos frailes!"--
"Zounds! why it's a ruin! there are only two friars there!" Don Juan
laughed, and told him that I had come all the way from Seville precisely
to see that old ruin and those two friars. The calasero made the
Spaniard's last reply when he is perplexed--he shrugged his shoulders and
crossed himself. After ascending a hill and passing through the skirts of
a straggling pine wood, we arrived in front of the convent. It stands in a
bleak and solitary situation, on the brow of a rocky height or promontory,
overlooking to the west a wide range of sea and land, bounded by the
frontier mountains of Portugal, about eight leagues distant. The convent
is shut out from a view of the vineyard of Palos by the gloomy forest of
pines already mentioned, which cover the promontory to the east, and
darken the whole landscape in that direction.

There is nothing remarkable in the architecture of the convent; part of it
is Gothic, but the edifice, having been frequently repaired, and being
whitewashed, according to a universal custom in Andalusia, inherited from
the Moors, has not that venerable aspect which might be expected from its
antiquity.

We alighted at the gate where Columbus, when a poor pedestrian, a stranger
in the land, asked bread and water for his child! As long as the convent
stands, this must be a spot calculated to awaken the most thrilling
interest. The gate remains apparently in nearly the same state as at the
time of his visit, but there is no longer a porter at hand to administer
to the wants of the wayfarer. The door stood wide open, and admitted us
into a small court-yard. Thence we passed through a Gothic portal into the
chapel, without seeing a human being. We then traversed two interior
cloisters, equally vacant and silent, and bearing a look of neglect and
dilapidation. From an open window we had a peep at what had once been a
garden, but that had also gone to ruin; the walls were broken and thrown
down; a few shrubs, and a scattered fig tree or two, were all the traces
of cultivation that remained. We passed through the long dormitories, but
the cells were shut up and abandoned; we saw no living thing except a
solitary cat stealing across a distant corridor, which fled in a panic at
the unusual sight of strangers. At length, after patrolling nearly the
whole of the empty building to the echo of our own footsteps, we came to
where the door of a cell, being partly open, gave us the sight of a monk
within, seated at a table writing. He rose, and received us with much
civility, and conducted us to the superior, who was reading in an adjacent
cell. They were both rather young men, and, together with a novitiate and
a lay-brother, who officiated as cook, formed the whole community of the
convent.

Don Juan Fernandez communicated to them the object of my visit, and my
desire also to inspect the archives of the convent, to find if there was
any record of the sojourn of Columbus. They informed us that the archives
had been entirely destroyed by the French. The younger monk, however, who
had perused them, had a vague recollection of various particulars
concerning the transactions of Columbus at Palos, his visit to the
convent, and the sailing of his expedition. From all that he cited,
however, it appeared to me that all the information on the subject
contained in the archives had been extracted from Herrera and other
well-known authors. The monk was talkative and eloquent, and soon diverged
from the subject of Columbus, to one which he considered of infinitely
greater importance--the miraculous image of the Virgin possessed by their
convent, and known by the name of "Our Lady of La Rabida." He gave us a
history of the wonderful way in which the image had been found buried in
the earth, where it had lain hidden for ages, since the time of the
conquest of Spain by the Moors; the disputes between the convent and
different places in the neighborhood for the possession of it; the
marvelous protection it extended to the adjacent country, especially in
preventing all madness, either in man or dog, for this malady was
anciently so prevalent in this place as to gain it the appellation of La
Rabia, by which it was originally called; a name which, thanks to the
beneficent influence of the Virgin, it no longer merited nor retained.
Such are the legends and relics with which every convent in Spain is
enriched, which are zealously cried up by the monks, and devoutly
credited by the populace.

Twice a year, on the festival of our Lady of La Rabida and on that of the
patron saint of the order, the solitude and silence of the convent are
interrupted by the intrusion of a swarming multitude, composed of the
inhabitants of Moguer, of Huelva, and the neighboring plains and
mountains. The open esplanade in front of the edifice resembles a fair,
the adjacent forest teems with the motley throng, and the image of our
Lady of La Rabida is borne forth in triumphant procession.

While the friar was thus dilating upon the merits and renown of the image,
I amused myself with those day-dreams, or conjurings of the imagination,
to which I am a little given. As the internal arrangements of convents are
apt to be the same from age to age, I pictured to myself this chamber as
the same inhabited by the guardian, Juan Perez de Marchena, at the time of
the visit of Columbus. Why might not the old and ponderous table before me
be the very one on which he displayed his conjectural maps, and expounded
his theory of a western route to India? It required but another stretch of
the imagination to assemble the little conclave around the table; Juan
Perez the friar, Garci Fernandez the physician, and Martin Alonzo Pinzon
the bold navigator, all listening with rapt attention to Columbus, or to
the tale of some old seaman of Palos, about islands seen in the western
parts of the ocean.