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Page 17
Alexander VI, the famous Borgia Pope, who was the father of
Caesar Borgia and Lucretia Borgia, has been accused, somewhat
loosely, of committing an act of foolish audacity in making this
grant. He has been represented as having partitioned the whole
American continent between Spain and Portugal. The accusation is
quite unjust. The bull merely granted such lands as had been
discovered, or might yet be discovered, and these lands were not
understood to be those of a new continent, but parts of India not
heretofore explored. As for any rights possest by other European
countries, including England and France, those countries at that
time had little, if any, interest in the discovery made by
Columbus or, in fact, any actual knowledge of it.
THE DISCOVERY OF THE MAINLAND BY THE CABOTS
(1497)
I
THE ACCOUNT GIVEN BY JOHN A. DOYLE[1]
As early as the reign of Edward III, sailors from Genoa and other
foreign ports had served in the English navy. The increasing
confusions of Italy after the French invasion naturally tempted her
seamen to transfer their skill to the rising powers of western Europe.
Among such emigrants was John Cabot, a Venetian, who settled in
Bristol, and then, after a return to his own country, again revisited
his adopted city. Of his earlier history and personal character we
know nothing. Our own records furnish nothing but the scanty outlines
of his career, and the one glimpse of light which is thrown upon the
living man is due to a lately discovered letter from his countryman,
the Venetian ambassador. Of his son, Sebastian, we know more. He was
born in Bristol, returned with his parents to Venice when three years
old, and revisited England as a boy or very young man. His features,
marked with the lines of thought and hardship, still live on the
canvas of Holbein; and one at least of the naval chroniclers of the
day writes of him in the language of warm personal affection.
In 1496 a patent was granted to John Cabot and his sons, Lewis,
Sebastian, and Sancius. This patent is interesting as the earliest
surviving document which connects England with the New World. It gave
the patentees full authority to sail with five ships under the royal
ensign, and to set up the royal banner on any newly found land, as the
vassals and lieutenants of the king. They were bound on their return
to sail to Bristol and to pay a royalty of one-fifth upon all clear
gain. The direction of the voyage, the cargo and size of the ships,
and the mode of dealing with the natives, are all left to the
discretion of the commander.
Of the details of the voyage itself, so full of interest for every
Englishman, we have but the scantiest knowledge. In this respect the
fame of Sebastian Cabot has fared far worse than that of the great
discoverer with whom alone he may be compared. We can trace Columbus
through every stage of his enterprise. We seem to stand by the side of
the great admiral in his difficulties, his fears, his hopes, his
victory. We can almost fancy that we are sharing in his triumph when
at last he sails on that mission whose end he saw but in a glass
darkly, victorious over the intrigues of courtiers, the avarice of
princes, and the blindness of mere worldly wisdom. Our hearts once
more sink as the cowardice of his followers threatens to undo all, and
the prize that had seemed won is again in danger. We feel all the
intensity of suspense as night after night land is promised and the
morning brings it not. When at length the goal is reached, we can
almost trick ourselves with the belief that we have a part in that
glory, and are of that generation by whom and for whom that mighty
work was wrought.
No such halo of romantic splendor surrounds the first voyage of
Sebastian Cabot. A meager extract from an old Bristol record: "In the
year 1497, June 24, on St. John's Day, was Newfoundland found by
Bristol men in a ship called the _Matthew_"--a few dry statements
such as might be found in the note-book of any intelligent sea
captain--these are all the traces of the first English voyage which
reached the New World. We read in an account, probably published under
the eye of Cabot himself, that on June 24, at five o'clock in the
morning, he discovered that land which no man before that time had
attempted, and named it Prima Vista. An adjacent island was called St.
John, in commemoration of the day. A few statements about the habits
of the natives and the character of the soil and the fisheries make up
the whole story. We may, perhaps, infer that Cabot meant this as a
report on the fitness of the place for trade and fishing, knowing that
these were the points which would excite most interest in England. One
entry from the privy purse expenses of Henry VII, "10� to hym that
found the new isle," is the only other record that remains to us.
Columbus was received in solemn state by the sovereigns of Aragon and
Castile, and was welcomed by a crowd greater than the streets of
Barcelona could hold. Cabot was paid �10. The dramatic splendor of the
one reception, the prosaic mercantile character of the other,
represent the different tempers in which Spain and England approached
the task of American discovery.
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