Bad faith of Pinzon.

Almost at the same time, the “Pinta,” which had been separated from her consort in the first storm which they encountered, made the port of Bayonne, whence Pinzon had forwarded a letter to the sovereigns, announcing “his” discoveries, and proposing to come to court and give full intelligence as to them.  Columbus, whom he probably supposed to have perished at sea, he seems to have ignored utterly, and when he received a reply from the king and queen, directing him not to go to court without the admiral, chagrin and grief overcame him to such an extent that he took to his bed; and if any man ever died from mental distress and a broken heart, that man was Martin Alonzo Pinzon.

  Solemn reception.

Herrera tells us that the admiral now “entered into the greatest reputation,” and the historian goes on to explain to his readers what the meaning of “reputation” is.  “It does not consist,” he tells us, “in success, but in doing something which cannot be easily comprehended, which compels men to think over and over again about it.”  And certainly, this definition makes the word particularly applicable to the achievement of Columbus.

The court prepared a solemn reception for the admiral at Barcelona, where the people poured out in such numbers to see him that the streets could not contain them.  A triumphal procession like his the world had not yet seen:  it was a thing to make the most incurious alert, and even the sad and solitary student content to come out and mingle with the mob.  The captives that accompanied a Roman general’s car might be strange barbarians of a tribe from which Rome had not before had slaves.  But barbarians were not unknown creatures.  Here, with Columbus, were beings of a new world.  Here was the conqueror, not of man but of nature, not of flesh and blood but of the fearful unknown, of the elements, and, more than all, of the prejudices of centuries.  We may imagine the rumours that must have gone before his coming.  And now he was there.  Ferdinand and Isabella had their thrones placed in the presence of the assembled court.  Columbus approached the monarchs, and then, “his countenance beaming with modest satisfaction,” knelt at the king’s feet, and begged leave to kiss their highnesses’ hands.  They gave their hands; then they bade him rise and be seated before them.  He recounted briefly the events of his voyage—­a story more interesting than the tale told in the court of Dido by Aeneas, like whom he had almost perished close to home, and he concluded his unpretending narrative by showing what new things and creatures he had brought with him.

  Marks of approbation.