“An age will come / after many years when the Ocean / will loose the chains of things, / and a huge land lie revealed; / when Tiphys [helmsman of the Argonauts] / will disclose new worlds / and Thule [Iceland] no more be the ultimate.”
These lines are from the first century Roman Seneca in his play “Medea.” They were viewed by many to be prophetic: a prophecy that one day someone would discover “new worlds” somewhere across a world of ocean.
There was one young man—indeed one of many—who wished to discover that world. Born in Genoa sometime between Aug. 25 and Oct. 31, 1451, Cristoforo Colombo, whom we know today as Christopher Columbus, was a product of the great age of sail.
Looking at Columbus’s writings, it can be surmised that he entered the sailing industry at the age of 10, but it is more accepted that he began around the age of 14. Nonetheless, by the time he developed the idea of making that Seneca voyage and garnered the courage to apply to kings for permission and accommodation, he had been working aboard sea vessels for decades.
Sovereigns and Miscalculations
When he presented his plan to kings such as King D. João II of Portugal in 1484, his idea was of interest, though it wasn’t completely in line with the said prophecy of finding a new land. Columbus had calculated, incorrectly, a narrow ocean, and therefore a much smaller expanse to cover in order to reach the Indies (that is, Asia). During this time, the debate was not whether the earth was flat or round (that was a fictional debate Washington Irving promoted in his work “A History of the Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus,” which was further ingrained in the American psyche through Bing Crosby’s song “They All Laughed”), but rather how round, or spherical, the earth was.
Scholars relied heavily on the Ptolemaic view. They also considered the perspectives of the ancient Greek mathematician Eratosthenes and Muslim geographer Alfragan. All three suggested the globe was much larger than Columbus professed. The stories of Marco Polo’s adventures, however, convinced Columbus that the distance between Europe and the Indies was much shorter than traditionally calculated.
Columbus calculated that he only needed to cover approximately 2,400 nautical miles from the Canary Islands to reach the gold-adorned Isle of Cipango (Japan). João II listened to Columbus and then referred the matter to a group led by the bishop of Ceuta, D. Diogo Ortiz, who was well-versed in the subjects of exploration. After discussing the matter, the group rejected Columbus’s presentation as fantastical and mathematically incorrect.
In 1489, the monarchs of Spain, Ferdinand and Isabella, provided “Cristóbal Colomo” with an opportunity to present to the court his theory and potential maritime requirements. Unfortunately, Spain was currently warring with the Moorish kingdom of Grenada, which took precedence over exploration. Nonetheless, Columbus presented his mathematical presumptions, along with how many vessels and what provisions would be needed for the expedition. The matter was again referred to a committee, which was led by Hernando de Talavera, counsel to Queen Isabella. Talavera’s report suggested much the same as that of Ortiz. The king and queen, however, neither accepted nor rejected Talavera’s report, but rather informed Columbus that there might be an opportunity to present again.
After many months, Columbus was sent a summons from Isabella to appear before her again. Her letter and what accompanied it suggests the financial straits Columbus must have found himself in. The letter came with 20,000 maravedis to be used to purchase before arrival a new set of clothes and a mule. It was toward the latter part of 1491 that Columbus again presented his case. His chances of acceptance were increased when Grenada surrendered on Jan. 2, 1492. Hopeful, and still penniless, Columbus finally received word of the Spanish sovereigns’s decision: absolutely not.
A Change of Heart
Utterly flustered at having now spent years trying to convince the Spanish monarchs of his idea, he packed his bags and set out for France. The man who believed in the incredible, even mathematically illogical, was also a man who made friends rather easily, and he had made a new one in the Spanish court. Luis de Santángel, “escribano de ración” (keeper of the privy purse) for Ferdinand, immediately met with Isabella. He suggested that Columbus’s enterprise was of “so little risk yet could prove of so great service to God ... not to speak of the very great increase and glory of her realms and crown; an enterprise of such nature that if any other prince should undertake what the Admiral offered to her, it would be a very great damage to her crown, and a grave reproach to her.”
Isabella quickly altered course, sending a messenger after Columbus, who was already leaving on his mule. Isabella informed him that his “La Empresa de las Indias” (the Enterprise of the Indies) had been accepted. Contrary to myth, Isabella did not sponsor Columbus’s voyage by pawning her jewels, though she did suggest she was willing to. It took approximately three months to negotiate the details and raise the funds.