But though the Sovereigns acted thus promptly on the admiral’s behalf, there is no doubt that one of them, at least, was in no wise displeased at his being removed from his government.  At each fresh discovery, Ferdinand had repented more and more of the concession by which Columbus was to receive an eighth part of the profits of the newly-found countries, and to be their governor-general.  He probably apprehended that this viceroy, when once master of the boundless wealth which was supposed to be nearly within his grasp, would become more powerful than his master, and might finally throw off his allegiance altogether.  But here was an opportunity, without any flagrant breach of faith, of eluding the bargain, by refusing, on very plausible grounds of policy, to reinstate Columbus immediately in his viceroyalty.  Isabella, who had always been his firm friend, would probably have refused to acquiesce in, any scheme for absolutely depriving him of his rights, but it was sufficiently obvious that just at present, while the colonists were excited against him, it would be prudent that some one else should take the reins of government.

  Columbus pleads his cause before the queen.

The Queen granted Columbus a private audience.  He told his story with much simple eloquence—­so pathetically, indeed, that his warmhearted mistress is said to have been moved to tears at the recital.  He described the difficulties which he had encountered and the machinations of the enemies who had been constantly thwarting him.  He pleaded that he had been obliged to create a line of conduct for himself, having to deal with an entirely new combination of circumstances without any precedent to guide him.  And he implored the Queen to believe that the accusations which had, of late, poured in against him, were prompted by the disappointed ambition and the jealousy of his enemies, and had not any solid foundation in fact.

Isabella replied in a very sensible speech, telling him that, while she fully appreciated his services, and knew the rancour of his enemies, she was afraid that he had given some cause for complaint.  “Common report,” she said,[Charlevoix.] “accuses you of acting with a degree of severity quite unsuitable for an infant colony, and likely to excite rebellion there.  But the matter as to which I find it hardest to give you my pardon, is your conduct in reducing to slavery a number of Indians who had done nothing to deserve such a fate.  This was contrary to my express orders.  As your ill fortune willed it, just at the time when I heard of this breach of my instructions, everybody was complaining of you, and no one spoke a word in your favour.  And I felt obliged to send to the Indies a commissioner to investigate matters, and give me a true report; and, if necessary, to put limits to the authority which you were accused of overstepping.  If you were found guilty of the charges, he was to relieve you of the government