That the idea was not original with Columbus takes nothing from his fame; his greatness lies in being the first fully to grasp its meaning, fully to believe it, fully to devote his life to it.  For the last measure of a man’s devotion to an idea is his willingness to stake his life upon it, as Columbus staked his.  The idea possessed him; there was room in him only for a dogged determination to realize it, to trample down such obstacles as might arise to keep him from his goal.  And obstacles enough there were, for many years of waiting and disappointment lay before him—­years during which, a shabby and melancholy figure, laughed at and scorned, mocked by the very children in the streets, he “begged his way from court to court, to offer to princes the discovery of a world.”  And here again was his true greatness—­that he did not despair, that his spirit remained unbroken and his high heart still capable of hope.

Yet let us not idealize him too much.  The eagerness to reach the Indies was wholly because of the riches which they possessed.  The spice trade was especially coveted, and tradition told of golden cities of fabulous wealth and beauty which lay in the country to the east.  The great motive behind all the early voyages was hope of gain, and Columbus had his full share of it.  Yet there grew up within him, in time, something more than this—­a love of the project for its own sake—­though to the very last, a little overbalanced, perhaps, by his great idea, he insisted upon the rewards and honors which must be his in case of success.

With his route well-outlined and his plans carefully matured, Columbus turned naturally to the King of Portugal, John II., as a man interested in all nautical enterprise, and especially interested in finding a route to the Indies.  That crafty monarch listened to Columbus attentively and was evidently impressed, for he took possession of the maps and plans which Columbus had prepared, under pretense of examining them while considering the project, placed them in the hands of one of his own captains and dispatched him secretly to try the route.  That captain, whose name has been lost to history, must afterwards have been chagrined enough at the manner in which he missed immortal fame, for, after sailing a few days to the westward, he turned back and reported to his royal master that the thing could not be done.  His was not the heart for such an enterprise.

Columbus, learning of the king’s treachery, left the court in disgust, and sending his brother, Bartholomew, to lay the plan before the King of England, himself proceeded to Spain, whose rulers, Ferdinand and Isabella, were perhaps the most enlightened of the age.  Of Bartholomew’s adventures in England little is known.  One thing alone is certain—­England missed the great opportunity just as Portugal had.  And for long years it seemed that, in Spain, Columbus would have no better fortune.  The Spanish monarchs listened to him with interest—­as who would