 CHAPTER 19 Frederick Barbarossa When the hand of Barbarossa grasped Imperial Sway, that name narrow-uttered without tears in Milan. Although Godfrey de Bouillon died within the year, yet for the next half-century the Christians kept Jerusalem from the attacks of the Mohammedans around them, till a time came of danger and strong help was needed from Europe, and the second crusade was formed. It was led by the ruler of Germany and the king of France, for by this time the old kingdom of the Franks had disappeared, and our modern countries of Germany, France, and Italy existed separately. Marching under the banner of the Cross in this ill-fated crusade was young Frederick Barbarossa, as he was afterwards called, by reason of his red beard. Though the crusade itself was a miserable failure, Barbarossa won golden opinions, and when his uncle died he became ruler of Germany. Charlemagne had conquered the Lombards in the north of Italy and made their town subject to Germany, but since his day a spirit of independence had grown up among these people, and for many years the German rulers had left them alone. But Barbarossa meant to assert his right over these northern cities of Italy, and he spent his life trying to suppress them, till he found out his mistake. Ambitious of restoring the old rights, Barbarossa invaded Lombardy with the arts of a statesman, the valor of a soldier, and the cruelty of a tyrant. He insisted on being crowned with the iron crown of the Lombards, and afterwards in Rome with the golden crown of the Empire. He left discontent behind him when he returned to Germany, and some years later, followed by a brilliant army of knights and nobles, he re-entered Lombardy. By all the passes of the Alps the German soldiers poured into Italy. Cries of despair arose from the freedom-loving cities when the people beheld this vast army. Milan, one of the chief towns, was besieged and starved into submission. Milan shall be a desert, Barbarossa declared, as he took his way back to Germany. But the brave endurance of the Milanese had roused the other towns in Lombardy to fierce rebellion. They now made a league, known to history as the Lombard League, to preserve that liberty which the Emperor sought to destroy. They all agreed to rebuild Milan, and to defend one another against Barbarossa should he come again. He did come again. It was in the year 1176 that the German army met the army of the League at a place called Lignano, some fifteen miles from the new town of Milan. In the center of the Milanese soldiers was the sacred car of the city, a ponderous wagon drawn by Fort White Oxen, harnessed with red trappings. In the center of this corocio, as it was called, rose a figure of Christ without stretched arms, supported on a globe, while above towered a lofty mast from which floated the banner of the Republic. An altar, a chest of medicine, bandages for the wounded, and a band of martial music completed the furniture of this quaint vehicle. To the flower of the troops under the name of the Company of Death was entrusted its defense. Its presence inspired the Milanese with courage and enthusiasm. This loss meant defeat and disgrace, for it was the very heart of the army. An old legend tells how, at the beginning of this battle, two white doves descended upon the outstretched figure of Christ, as if in token that the blessing of heaven was resting on the Italians. A tremendous charge of German cavalry made the lumbards give way, and the Germans pressed forward towards the corocio in the center of the army. Nine hundred desperate patriots forming the Company of Death defended the sacred car. Seeing the Germans were gaining ground fearful for the safety of their treasure, they suddenly knelt down and renewed their vow to God that they would perish for their country. Then excited to a pitch of unwanted zeal, they charged the Germans. The attack was so sudden and so furious that the tide of victory turned. Encouraged by such an example, the rest of the Italians rushed forward and the Germans fled, defeated. Barbarossa was now convinced of the power of the League and made peace with the lumbards. His defeat proved of value to him, for it changed his stern attitude towards these people to one of mercy, and he turned the restless enemies of Lombardy into contended subjects. This victorious struggle of the lumbards against Frederick Barbarossa is one of the landmarks of history, for it is the first entry of the people upon the stage of Europe. Barbarossa was now an old man when he determined to join the third crusade, which was starting for Jerusalem. He reached Asia Minor, where he was stopped at a fort by a crowd of pack-horses. In patient of delay he, though now nearly seventy years old, sets first to his horse and plunged into the water. The current was rapid and the strong Charger struggled against it in vain. In the sight of his army the old man was carried away and drowned. Great was the regret of all. No ruler of Germany ever won a more lasting place in the affections of his people than Barbarossa. The legends say that he is still sleeping, away among the Salzburg Hills, and that his red beard has grown through the granite rock by which he sits. But some day, it says, when the ravens cease to fly round the mountain, he will awake and bring to his old country the dawn of a golden age. CHAPTER XX For all that they hold holiest they died that died that day, and to the holy sepulcher their blood hath won away. Story and romance have crowned the third crusade, in which Frederick Barbarossa perished, with a halo of glory. It was less disastrous than the second, forty years before, but it fell far short of the splendid results of the first crusade. Nevertheless the story of the lion-hearted Richard of England, and how he fought Saladin, the famous Mohammedan chief, is always worth hearing, mixed though it be with legend. Both were brave men. If Richard was not the ideal Christian knight, he was a brave Northman, like his ancestor Rallo, with a warm zeal for the cause of Christ and a thirst for military glory. He threw his whole heart into the expedition, and alike by land and sea he knew better than any other leader how to conduct the war. By sheer force of genius he had risen from one of the strong mountain tribes beyond Arabia to be the greatest Mohammedan ruler of his age. Master of Egypt, Syria, and Arabia he had included Jerusalem in his conquests. This is what roused Europe to action, and the three leading rulers of Germany, France, and England at once began preparations for marching against this powerful Eastern ruler. Richard joined his fleet on the coast of Italy, but it was not till the spring of 1191 that he sailed from Sicily for the Holy Land, conquering the island of Cyprus, and marrying a wife on the way. He found the crusaders besieging Acre, a town on the coast of Syria. The siege had lasted for two years. And the plain was gathered the crusading host, now suffering greatly from a plague that had broken out in their midst. On the heights of the city were the followers of Mohammed under the black banner of Saladin. Richard, though prostrated with fever, was overwhelmed by remorse for having loitered so long on the road. A fiery zeal seized him. He was carried on a mattress to conduct operations. More long Saladin sued for peace, and the banners of France and England floated from the ramparts of Acre. But the old spirit of the crusaders was gone, and the French king was now slipped home to plot against Richard, who soon found that every French and German crusader was banded against him. The rest of the crusade was in the hands of Richard now. The Emperor of Germany was dead. The King of France had gone home. He marched southward towards Jerusalem, the object of his goal, but he never reached the Holy City. Discords broke out, disputes took place among the leaders of the army, and almost within sight of Jerusalem the crusading army was obliged to turn back. Richard himself was led to the top of a hill from which he could get a view of the Holy City. But when his guide pointed out the white buildings dimly visible in the distance the lion-hearted king put his shield before his face, for he could not bear to see the city which he had failed to take from Saladin. So Jerusalem remained in the hands of the Mohammedans, in whose hands it is still today. Sadly and sorrowfully Richard sailed away from the Holy Land. As its rich shores slowly faded from his sight he stretched out his arms, exclaiming. First Holy Land, may God grant me life to return and deliver thee from the yoke of the infidels. His name was feared and honoured by the Mohammedans for long after he had gone, and the Arab of Syria would exclaim to his horse when it started or pricked its ears. Does think it is King Richard? But many an adventure was in store for the English King. His ship was wrecked on the coast near Venice and he found himself wandering about in Austria, the country of his enemy, one of the leaders of the crusaders with whom he had quarreled. For a while he wandered from place to place disguised as a pilgrim, but at last he fell into the hands of his enemy and was placed in a castle strongly guarded for some months. There is a story told of how when the people of England were weeping over the disappearance of their king his faithful minstrel set out to find his master. One day the minstrel, Blondel, was resting outside the walls of a castle in Austria, wearied with his wanderings when he heard the notes of an old French song which Richard used to sing, floating on the air. Eagerly he took up the song and then listened with beating heart. Again the voice within took up the strain and Blondel knew he had found his master, Richard of the Lion's Heart. So the king returned home on the payment of a large sum of money, but he did not live to lead another crusade into the Holy Land. CHAPTER XXI Let us now take a look at Europe during the Crusades and see how the people of these Middle Ages struggled from out of the Dark Ages, which followed the fall of Rome, to something higher and better. We have seen how the Romans had lost their old loyal spirit, falsehood, treachery, and gratitude. These were among the vices that had crept in to mar their manhood. A new order of things was coming, which with the rapid spread of Christianity raised the people of Europe to a higher and better state, lifting them then, as now, beyond the civilizations of the East. The Crusades did for the countries of the West that which nothing else had done. They gave unity. A common danger made all men one. A spirit of loyalty and patriotism began slowly to rise. The idea of honourable service dawned on men, and out of the darkness of the past arose a wonderful system of chivalry. The word in French means literally, one who rode on horseback. Thus the warrior who served on horseback was called a knight. Let us see how a boy could become a knight in these days of long ago, known as the Middle Ages. Everywhere in Europe had risen great castles in which dwelt the large landowners, or lords, the wealthiest men in the kingdoms. To these castles the little boy of seven years old was sent to serve as a page to the great man of the castle. Here he learnt how to use arms, how to ride, and to become strong and useful. He learnt to obey, to be courteous, to serve his lords and ladies honourably, and to acquit himself well. By the age of fourteen the page became a squire and acted as a personal attendant to his lord. If he were brave and true he was soon allowed to accompany his master to the field, to lead his war horse on the march, to buckle on his armor for the fight, keeping ever close to his sight to help him in danger and to give him aid in need. The ambition of every boy was to become a knight himself, a rank which made him equal in dress, in arms, and in title to the rich landowners. If he could distinguish himself in battle or show himself courteous and honourable in times of peace he was admitted to this holy order. The preparation was severe. The young squire was first bathed and arrayed in white robes in token of the unstained honour required by the laws of chivalry. New armour was given to him, and sword in hand he had to watch these arms all night in church till in the early morning service was performed. His sword was then laid on the altar and blessed, while some older knight conferred on the young warrior the order of knighthood. As he knelt to take the solemn vow he swore to protect the distressed, to maintain right against might, and never by word or deed to disdain his character as a knight and as a Christian. Be thou a good and faithful knight, said the older man, touching the kneeling figure before him with the edge of the sword. Then all present helped to lace on his helmet, gird his sword-belt, and bind on the gilt spurs which were the outward symbols of knighthood. Added to this he might now dress in rich silks and wear scarlet, while his horse might be clad in mail. And still in Europe the different nations have their orders of knighthood given for some distinguished service to king and country, while each can look back to the ages long past and still boast of a Roland, an Arthur, or a Sid, heroes of the ancient knighthood. The Crusades, then, were a splendid chance for the young warriors of Europe to win their spurs, to show themselves loyal to their lord and to their king, to maintain right against might. So upon the rude manners and customs of the barbarian invaders arose from the Crusades a spirit of chivalry which added grace and glory to the Middle Ages, and the new sun rose bringing the new year. End of Chapter 21 CHAPTER 22 OF THE DISCOVERY OF NEW WORLDS This Libervox recording is in the public domain. THE DISCOVERY OF NEW WORLDS BY M. B. CING CHAPTER 22 QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC WHERE VENICE SAIT IN STATE THRONED ON HER HUNDRED ISLES Byron Another result of the Crusades was the great stimulus given to commerce and trade in Europe. Let us take a look at the centre of Europe's trade at this time. Away in the far north of the Adriatic Sea, which washes the shores of eastern Italy, are some seventy-two small islands or mudbanks. They are surrounded by the shallow water of the sea, which laps peacefully round their shores. A very network of channels and pools and lagoons as they are called. On these islands, and amid this waste of waters, arose Venice, a city famous in the Middle Ages for the genius and industry of her people, who had built up for themselves a commercial greatness of which the world was justly proud. There is a glorious city in the sea. The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets, ebbing and flowing, and the salt seaweed clings to the marble of her palaces. No track of men, no footsteps to and fro, lead to her gates. The path lies o'er the sea, invisible. It seemed an unpromising foundation for such a city, but quantities of salt from the lagoons and unlimited fish from the sea supplied the people with articles of trade, in exchange for which they got timber for their ships, among other things. To such a race, life on the water was yet more natural than life on land, and they soon became daring and expert sailors. With each age, their ships increased in size and number until they became the chief carriers of Europe. The spirit of the crusades reached this city of the waters, and she sent no less than two hundred seven ships to help Godfrey double yon on the first crusade. It was to Venice, then, that the future crusaders looked when they wanted to cross the Mediterranean Sea for the holy land. This traffic brought the Venetians into contact with the rich stores of the boundless east, and costly cargoes returning with the returning ships. This little secret state was ruled over by a duke, or doge, as he was called, and there is a curious old story about one of these doges in the olden days. Venice had joined the League of Lombardy against Frederick Barbarossa, and had gained a sea victory over the German fleet. In command of the Venetian fleet was the doge. As soon as he touched land, on his return from victory, the pope himself hastened to the shore and presented him with a ring of gold. Take this ring, he said, and with it the sea as your subject. Every year on the return of this happy day you and your successors shall make known to all that the right of the conquest has made subject the Adriatic to Venice, as a bride to her husband. The Venetians brought forth their state ship, glorious with new scarlet and gold. It stecks and seats inlaid with costly woods and rode with long banks of burnished oars. Seated on a magnificent throne was the doge. Gliding through the silent canals, now ringing with festal music and the shouts of the triumphant Venetians, this gorgeous ship reached the harbour. Here the doge dropped the golden ring into the clear, still waters of the Adriatic, plighting the troth of Venice in these words. We wed thee, O sea, in token of our true and eternal dominion over thee. For six hundred years the Venetians repeated this ceremony until Venice fell, unable to compete longer with the trade of the New World. But these were the days of her glory, when as queen of the Adriatic she ruled the seas of southern Europe. With the start of the fifth crusade she showed her full strength. It would take too long to tell how the blind old doge Dandolo led his countrymen to the wars, of the glorious fleet that sailed so proudly down the Adriatic, with gay streamers blazoned with the cross flying in the wind, of the lords and knights of France who sailed from Venice on their way to the Holy Land. But they turned aside from the object of the expedition and sailed to Constantinople instead. When the crusaders beheld the lofty walls and goodly towers of this queen of the earth, there was not a man whose heart did not tremble within him. For since the creation of the world, says the old chronicler, never had such an enterprise been attempted by a handful of men. It was mainly owing to the dauntless ardor of the old doge that Constantinople fell into the hands of the Venetians. Old and blind as he was, he stood upon the prow of his galley, with the standard of St. Mark's bread before him, urging his people to push on to the shore. Then, the first to leap out, he reassured the fainting hearts of his warriors, and soon the Venetian standard was flying from one of the towers of Constantinople. From the days of Constantine, treasure had been collected from all parts of the world and stored in this queen of cities. She had been the seed of learning for centuries, the storehouse and home of all that was beautiful. Now all was swept away. Marbles, pictures, statues, prizes from Egypt, Greece, and Rome, which had made Constantine city the wonder of nations, all disappeared under the cruel hands of the Crusaders. Dandelion became doge of Venice, and lord of one-eighth of the Roman Empire, and the triumph of Venice was complete. Still today may be seen in Venice the famous bronze horses taken from Constantinople in this thirteenth century by Dandelion. Still the streets of water ebb and flow as the silent boats, gondolas, glide from house to house. And still the winged lions of Saint Mark command this city of the waters, though her ships no longer dominate the sea. End of Chapter 22 Chapter 23 OF THE DISCOVERY OF NEW WORLDS This Libervox recording is in the public domain. THE DISCOVERY OF NEW WORLDS by M. B. Singh Chapter 23 The Story of Marco Polo I cannot rest from travel. I will drink life to the leaves. All times I have enjoyed greatly and suffered greatly. Tennison The Crusades had brought about a contact of east and west, but though they had raised the general standard of life and made the ridges of the east, gold, silks, spices, and jewels, familiar throughout Europe, yet the geography of the east was strangely misty and undefined. To the men of the middle ages the world was still very limited. The Great Atlantic, which was soon to open out a new world, was yet known as the Sea of Darkness, and many attempts to fathom its mysteries had ended in dismal failure. Still more alarming was the idea of a Sea of Pitchy Darkness, which was supposed to lie to the east of Asia. In the north, the old Vikings, having discovered Iceland and sailed by the northern shores of America without knowing it, had become a settled people, and no longer terrified the world by their coasting raids. Africa, except for the strip of northern coast and Egypt, was still a closed book, and nothing was known of the south and west. This was somewhat the state of affairs when Marco Polo arose, traveled away to the far east, sailed on the Sea of Pitchy Darkness, and returned home, after many years, travel stained and unrecognizable, to give the world an account of his wonderful doings. It seemed somewhat natural to find that Venice was the birthplace of this early explorer, for Venice, as we have seen, had the enterprise of the whole world at this time. The very year that Marco Polo was born in Venice, 1254, his father and uncle had started forth on a trading enterprise to Constantinople. They were away for some fifteen years, and when they came back they had some wonderful stories to tell the young Marco. They told him how they had reached China and been at the court of the Chinese ruler, the Great Khan, as he was called. The boy was fired with enthusiasm to go to this distant country and to see for himself the wonders of the mysterious new land. Two years later, when the father and uncle started off again, they took young Marco with them. They sailed from Venice to Ochre, but nothing is related of their journey except that they traveled towards the northeast and north, till after three and a half years they reached the city of the Great Khan, who was at his summer home among the hills to the north of Peking. The great man, lord of all the earth as he was called, was very glad to see them, and asked at once who was the young man with them. Sire, answered his father, tis my son and your leechman. Welcome is he too, said the Great Khan. Marco soon picked up the language and customs of the Chinese and became a great favorite at this strange foreign court. Once the Great Khan sent him on a journey, a good six months journey distant. Marco returned safely, and so ably did he state all that he had seen and heard that the Great Khan cried, if this young man live, he will become a person of great worth and ability. For seventeen years the three polos stayed in China, and Marco explored countries which to this day are hardly understood. He was the first traveler to cross Asia, describing kingdom after kingdom that he had seen with his own eyes. He was the first to explore the deserts and the flowering plains of Persia, to tell the western world of China with its mighty rivers, its multitudes of people, its huge cities and great manufacturers. He first told us of Tibet, Burma, Japan, Siberia, and the frozen ocean beyond. So the years passed on, the Great Khan was growing old and the Venetians yearned for home. But whenever they hinted at leaving China, the Khan growled refusal. At last their chance came. A relation of the Great Khan was king of Persia. He had lately lost his wife and now sent to China for a wife of his own nationality. The polos were chosen to take her to Persia because they were hearty and adventurous, and the lady must be sent by sea to Persia. Fourteen ships were built by the Great Khan, each having four masts and able to carry nine sails, with some two hundred and fifty sailors in each. In these ships the polos sailed away from China with a bright elect on board. They took a sorrowful leave of the Great Khan who gave them numbers of rubies and precious stones. After sailing for three months in the unknown China Sea they came to the island of Java, and after another eighteen months on the high seas they reached Persia to find that the bridegroom was dead. But his son, the new king, married the lady without more ado, and the Venetians sailed on for home. So one day in the year twelve ninety-five three men appeared in the streets of Venice. They were dressed in Asiatic clothes and spoke with a foreign accent. It was therefore no great matter of surprise when they were refused admission to the family house of the polos. We have been in the service of the Great Khan in China, they urged, but no one believed them. So they invited a number of friends to a banquet prepared with great magnificence, and when the hour arrived for sitting down to the table, all three came forth clothed in long crimson satin robes, after the fashion of the times. When the guests were seated they took off these robes and put on others of crimson damask. Whilst the first suits were cut up and divided among their servants. Soon after they again changed, this time to crimson velvet, while the damask robes were divided as before. Dinner over, Marco rose and fetched the three shabby garments in which they had arrived. With sharp knives they then slid up the seams, and from them took the most priceless jewels, rubies, diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires. So their astonished guests knew they had spoke the truth, and all Venice came rushing to do them honor. They stayed at home for a time, and then Marco Polo was made commander of a great and powerful galley to fight against Venice's rival seaport, Genoa. He was taken prisoner and shut up in Genoa. Here Marco Polo wrote his book of travels, which are interesting reading today, and we cannot do better than follow the good advice at the beginning of his book. Great princes, emperors, and kings, he says, and people of all degrees who desire to get knowledge of the various races of mankind and of sundry regions of the world. Take this book and cause it to be read to you. He was an old man when he had finished dictating his travels to his fellow captive, and he returned to Venice to die. 24 Dante's Great Poem The poet is a heroic figure, belonging to all ages. Carlyle While Marco Polo was living his curious life in the Chinese court of the Great Con, there was growing up in Florence a man who was to become famous for all time. This Italian, Dante, was to be the spokesman of the Middle Ages. He was to be the voice of the last ten silent centuries, a very landmark of history. Of his life itself there is but little worthy of record. He first makes his appearance at the age of nine, a shy, sensitive boy, with large, dark, dreamy eyes, and a curly head full of the strangest fancies. One day at a children's party in Florence Dante met the little Beatrice, simply enough dressed in a crimson frock. To the dreamy poet boy, the little girl was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And from that day she became what knighthood was to the young men of the Middle Ages, his ideal, something he must live to be worthy of. Though Beatrice died when Dante was yet a young man of twenty-four, he kept her as his ideal right through his life, and as she plays a large part in his life, so she plays a large part in his great poem. He was educated after the fashion of his day, but with no printed books his knowledge was necessarily limited. All that he learnt was in Latin, which was the language of all learned people at this time. He served in the wars of his country, for Florence was torn by strife and divided by party. And Dante loved Florence as Socrates had loved Athens. The state accepted his talents and devotion, and by the time he was thirty-five he had risen to a post of honour in the city. Then disturbances arose, feeling ran high, parties were divided, and the result was that Dante, in the full vigor of his manhood, was exiled from his own city, doomed henceforth to a life of woe and wandering. Not only was he banished from Florence, but if caught he was to be burnt alive. Later it was proposed that Dante should apologize, pay a fine to the state, and return. If I cannot return without calling myself guilty I will never return, answered this man with fixed, stern pride. For Dante now there was no home in the world. He wandered from place to place, from patron to patron, always working to get back to his beloved Florence, but in vain. How hard is the path, he exclaimed spitterly. Hard it was indeed. Alone, friendless, hopeless, cast out of his home forever, to wander over the face of the cold earth with no living heart to love him, no kindred soul to comfort him. Dante now turned his thoughts to another world, and tried to imagine what it would all be like. And so, brooding over the unknown in speechless gloom, he burst forth at last into the wonderful song we delight into this day, known as the Divine Comedy. It was the story of a vision Dante supposed he saw, a vision of hell, purgatory, and paradise. It took him years to write, for it was written with pain and toil, with his heart's blood. One could hinder him now. He had found his work to do. He would not rest till the work was done. Follow thou thy star, he could say to himself in his extremist need. Thou shalt not fail of a glorious haven. He has passed from the cold world of reality into the spirit world, and all the Christianity that had been creeping over Europe during the Middle Ages is summed up in Dante's great poem. But not only is the Divine Comedy of Dante's the first great Christian poem, but it is the opening of a new European era of song, the beginning of a language and a national literature. For it is written in the Italian language, the language of the people, and not in Latin or Greek, the language of the learned only. A few books had been translated into the language of the people by Alfred the Great of England and other scholars. A few songs had been composed in the language of France. But no great work had been written in any of the languages of modern Europe till Dante wrote his great poem in the language of Italy. So he did more for his country than he can ever have expected to do, when he left it sorrowing and alone, for he laid the foundation of the union of divided Italy. The people in the cities such as Venice, Milan, and Genoa were eager to claim Dante as a countryman, one who spoke and wrote in the language of their country. He had become the one world voice. The great work done, the poet died, still in exile, it is said, brokenhearted. In the vision of his life he had reached paradise and had seen again the Beatrice whom he loved, his goal, and his ideal. Here we must leave the poet, but from out the long ages Dante still speaks for those to hear who will. I will be thy guide and bring thee hints by an eternal place. End of Chapter 24 Chapter 25 of The Discovery of New Worlds This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Discovery of New Worlds by M. B. Singh. Chapter 25 The Maid of Orléans The fate of empires and the doom of kings lies clearly spread before my childish mind. Shiller. Maid of Orléans Almost ever since the death of Dante war had been raging between England and France. For some hundred years it had gone on until at last it was ended by a young girl known to history as Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orléans. This is a very wonderful story of how the girl, Joan, saved her country and freed it from the hands of the foreigner. She was born in the year 1412, away in a small village called Domrémy, on the outskirts of a great wood. The child loved the forest. Birds and beasts came lovingly to her childish call. She learned to spin and sew with other little girls, but never learned to read and write. She was tender to the poor and sick, fond of church and the church bells, but her quiet life was soon broken by the storm of war. The King of France died and his son was proclaimed Charles VII, but the King of England called himself King and refused to acknowledge the French ruler. All this reached the years of Joan, the little Maid, dreaming away in her distant home amid the forests, and she had pity on the fair realm of France. One summer afternoon when Joan was about thirteen she thought she heard a voice saying to her, Joan, be a good child, go often to church. After this she often heard voices speaking to her, until one day she heard this, Joan, you must go to help the King of France, for you shall give him back his kingdom. But I am only a poor Maiden, pleaded Joan. I know not how to ride to the wars or to lead men at arms. Then she remembered that Merlin, the old magician who had rescued King Arthur, had said that France should be saved by a Maiden from the country. Joan wept and prayed, but she knew that somehow she must go and see the King. It was for this I was born. She urged, when they laughed at her earnestness. So at last it was settled that she should be taken to the King. It took eleven days to reach the court where Charles was living. Nobles and courtiers awaited the arrival of the peasant girl, half in sport. Even Charles had the playfulness to hide among his courtiers as she entered, but the Maid knew him at once, falling down on her knees before him. I am sent you by the King of Heaven to tell you that you shall be crowned King of France, she cried. The jesting courtiers grew grave, and the young King listened to her earnest pleading. At last Charles consented to let her go and try her fortune against the English, who were besieging the town of Orléans. So Joan of Arc started forth. For her banner she had worked the lilies of France in gold upon a white ground on one side, while on the other was the face of God looking down from the clouds upon the earth. As she mounted her charger, clad in white armor from head to foot, her great white banner in one hand, her sword by her side, the rough French soldiers felt proud of following her, for they looked on her as something divine. When she reached Orléans she found her countrymen ready to give up the town, which had been besieged for seven long months by the English. Her appearance brought them hope and fresh courage. At the sight of her, in her shining armor, with her mystic banner raised on high, the English were struck with terror. She is a witch, they said among themselves. Fort after fort had been taken. One strong one remained. Joan was determined to take it. She let out the soldiers against this last fort. The English fought desperately, and the maid fell wounded. She was carried away. Suddenly she heard that the French were failing. Heedless of her wound, she mounted her horse, unfurled her banner, and returned. Watch my standard, she cried. When it touches the walls you shall enter the fort. The return of this wounded witch at the head of her men filled the English with renewed terror. Suddenly above the den of battle rang out the clear voice of the maid. The victory is ours. It was true. The long weary siege was ended. Orléans belonged to the French once more, and it was all due to the courage and inspiration of Joan of Arc. Entering the great church at Orléans, she wept so passionately that all the people wept with her. Then flushed with victory, with the shouts of her fellow soldiers yet ringing in her ears, she made her way to the king. Come and be crowned king at reams, she cried, throwing herself at his feet. And two months later she stood in her armor of shining still, her white banner held on high, to see the king crowned. Her mission was now accomplished, and she wished to go home, but the king forced her to remain. The end of the story is very sad. The English declared that she was indeed a witch, and for this she was tried. The trial was a long one, and grossly unfair. Charles put out no hand to save her, though she had won him back his crown and saved his kingdom. I hold to my judge, she cried, as her earthly judges gave sentence against her, to the king of heaven and earth. She was condemned to die. A great pile was raised in the marketplace at Rouen, where now her statue stands. Her martyrdom was as heroic as had been her life. Oh Rouen! Rouen! she was heard to murmur, as she looked over the city from her lofty scaffold. I have great fear lest you suffer for my death. Yes, my voices were from God, she cried suddenly, as the flames curled up around her. Then her head drooped forward, and with one last cry of, Jesus! the maid of Orleans perished. We are lost, muttered in Englishman as the crowd broke up. We have burned to saint. But the French people who loved her tell a story of how, when all was over, and the heroic maid of Orleans was but a heap of smoldering ashes. A beautiful white dove rose up from the smoking pile, and flew upward towards the sky. It was the dove of peace, they said, that had spread its wings over the fair land of France, saved by John of Arc. End of CHAPTER XXV CHAPTER XXVI OF THE DISCOVERY OF NEW WORLDS This Lubri-Fox recording is in the public domain. THE DISCOVERY OF NEW WORLDS By M. B. Singh CHAPTER XXVI THE SEA OF DARKNESS To open up those wastes of tide, no generation opened before. We now open a wonderful new chapter in the world's history, a chapter full of mystery, adventure, and discovery, when the spirit of enterprise was awakened and the eyes of all men were turned towards the boundless sea of darkness and the unknown lands beyond. It had been a triumphant day for the old Phoenicians when they had at last sailed through the terrible pillars of Hercules, which were supposed to mark the bounds of the world and found a great rough sea rolling in beyond the Mediterranean. This farthest point of legendary adventure was now to be the starting point of the new voyagers. Portugal, lying just beyond the pillars of Hercules, or Gibraltar, as we call the narrow passage now, was the home of those who were the first to break the charm of the Mediterranean. Until this time the Great Sea had been the center of all civilization. Around its shores had been a group the chief races of mankind, the Phoenicians and Carthaginians, the Greeks and Romans. Over her blue waters the traffic of the world had passed. True, the men of the Middle Ages were beginning to dream of something beyond. Through the dreaded sea of darkness had been found narrow belts of light. Ships from Venice braved the dreaded Bay of Biscay to get to the Netherlands for the sake of trading with Bruges and Ghent. It took them eight long months to reach the bleak North Sea from their sunny waters of the Adriatic. The men of Portugal, the extreme West of Europe, looked out over the rough waters of the Sea of Darkness. Their capital, Lisbon, stood at the mouth of the River Tegus, which flowed into the unknown ocean, and they must often have wondered what lay beyond this great strong sea, the waves of which dashed higher than those of the Mediterranean Sea. Only five centuries ago this great Atlantic Ocean, across which steamers from all countries are steaming today, was described by an old rider as, a vast and boundless ocean on which ships dare not venture out of sight of land. For even if the sailors knew the direction of the winds, they would not know whether those winds would carry them. And as there is no inhabitant country beyond, they would run great risk of being lost in mist and vapor. The limit of the West is the Atlantic Ocean, adds this old rider with certainty. But now a great light was to be shed over this mysterious sea. One man, born and bred in Portugal, was to awake his sleeping nation to the wonderful possibilities of the unknown sea. His name was Prince Henry of Portugal, his father was King John of Portugal, and his mother was an Englishwoman, Queen Philippa. This queen had shared the throne of Portugal with King John for twenty-eight years, and her son Henry was but twenty when she lay dying. He was just starting with his father and two brothers for a great Moorish port on the African side of the Straits of Gibraltar. The three princes had all asked for knighthood, and the king had decided that they should have a chance of winning their spurs in this African crusade. They were due to sail from Lisbon on July twenty-fifth, fourteen fifteen. On the thirteenth Queen Philippa died. Her last thought was for the success of her husband and sons. What winds blow so strongly against this side of the house, she asked? It is blowing from the north, answered her sons. It is the right wind for your voyage, she murmured with her last breath. A few days later the motherless princes left Lisbon with their father to win their knighthood. Prince Henry, though the youngest of the three brothers, was the first to win knighthood. The king's face was bright with joy as Prince Henry approached him, and he welcomed him with the proposal that, as he had borne himself so gloriously, he should receive the honour of knighthood before his brothers. But the prince besought the king that as his brothers Edward and Pedro were older than he was, they might first receive the honour due to them too. The king was pleased with the young man's modesty, and next day the three princes in full armour, each bearing unsheathed, the sword the queen had given him, were invested with knighthood. It was three years before Prince Henry returned to live in Portugal. He had shown himself a worthy soldier, and his renown stood high in Europe. He received invitations from the Pope, the Emperor of Germany, and the King of England to take command of their armies. But Prince Henry had other ideas for his life. He wanted to learn more of the Sea of Darkness over which he had tossed from Lisbon to the coast of Africa. He wanted to know how far that coast on the west extended, what was beyond the great sea across which man had never yet sailed. These things he yearned to know, and these things he now set himself to learn. The purpose of his life now began to take definite shape. Forsaking the gaiety of court life, he took up his abode on the inhospitable shores of southern Portugal. Amid the sadness of a waste of shifting sand, in a neighbourhood so barren that only a few stunted trees struggled for existence, on one of the coldest dreariest spots of sunny Portugal, Prince Henry built himself a palace, a chapel, and an observatory. And here, with the vast Atlantic stretching before him, he devoted himself to the study of the stars, of seamanship, of mathematics. He gathered round him men skilled in the art of drawing maps and men of science. In the neighbouring port of Lagos he built new ships and trained the Portuguese sailors in the art of seamanship. Desire to do well. This was the Prince's motto, and never did man follow any nobler watchword than this. It was not long before his ship sailed forth in quest of the unknown. Two squires of Prince Henry's household, anxious for fame and wishing to serve their master, set out on an exploring expedition to the coast of West Africa. But being overtaken by a storm, they were driven on an island, which they called Porto Santo, as it had saved them from the dangers of the storm. They returned in triumph to Prince Henry, suggesting that a little colony would thrive on their newly found island. The Prince took up the idea and sent out a little settlement of people to start life on the new island. He also sent with his captain a Spanish pilot who came into his service relating this story. Fifty years before an Englishman had run away from Bristol with a very beautiful lady. The boat in which they were flying to France was driven by storms out of its course, finally reaching an island where the lady died of fright and exposure, and her lover a few days later of grief. The sailors who were with them sailed away from the island, only to be wrecked on the coast of Africa and to be thrown into a Moorish prison. But they had told their story to this man, and he was now on his way to act as guide to the island of Madeira. Rediscovered then by the Portuguese they took it in the name of Prince Henry, and to the Portuguese the islands of Madeira and Porto Santo belong to-day. Year after year the energetic Prince dispatched his little ships on the islands into the unknown sea, ever urging his captains and sailors to venture farther and farther. He gave them new maps and better compasses, and he imparted his enthusiasm to all. To the faint hearted he gave new courage. Those who listened to fables of the sea he rebuked, until one and all determined not to return till they could report some success to their enthusiastic master. Farther and still farther the ship sailed southward till at last they reached Cape Bajador on the west coast of Africa. Here a dangerous surf broke upon the shore, and even the Prince's mariners dared not venture farther. There was a popular fable that any man who passed Cape Bajador would be changed from white to black. Men whispered of serpent rocks, sea monsters, water unicorns, of sheets of liquid flame and boiling waters. It was seven years later that the Prince's ships reached Cape Blanco, the white headland beyond. Slowly but surely the fables about the great heat were melting away and men were venturing farther and farther south, but never far from the coast of Africa, never out into the sea of darkness. But they brought back gold dust from the coast of Guinea, and they brought back some of the black men as captives to Prince Henry, whose wish was that they should become Christians. As ship after ship now returned with gold and captives or slaves, Prince Henry's service became more and more popular. No longer had the sailor Prince to beg his men to sail forth. All were eager to go and enrich themselves from this newly discovered land. Love of gain was the magic wand that now drew on the Portuguese sailors into the unknown waters, and made them ready for adventure and dangers. This love of gold and slaves did not appeal to the Prince. He still sent out his ships to the West Coast, ever hoping for some new light to be shed over the sea of darkness, ever longing for someone to discover a pathway through the great waters to distant India. The Prince, who heaven inspired, to love of useful glory roused mankind, and in unbounded commerce mixed the world. Thompson. Perhaps of all the voyages made in the time of Prince Henry of Portugal, that of the Venetian voyager, Catamosto, is the most famous, and we have an account of it in his own words. Sailing from Venice to France, Catamosto was driven by a storm to shelter in the Prince's town near Cape St. Vincent. Here he heard of the glorious and boundless discoveries of the Prince's ships, and a passionate desire to see the world and explore the unknown, fired him with eagerness to enter the Prince's service. No countrymen of mine had ever tried the like, and my certainty of winning the highest honor and gain from such a venture made me offer myself, he tells us in his story. On March 21st, 1455, Catamosto sailed for Madeira, then on to the newly found Canary Islands, which had been called the Hanoe of Old, the Islands of the Blessed, and so to the coast of Africa, landing at the White Cape, Cape Blanco. The natives of Cape Blanco are black as moles, but dress in white flowing robes, says the old traveler and chronicler, with a turban wound round the head. Indeed, plenty of Arabs are always hovering off the Cape for the sake of trade with Prince Henry's ships, especially in silver, grain, and woven stuffs, slaves, and gold. Coasting on to the southward, he came to the Great River Senegal, where the natives were of a color something between black and ashes in hue. When first they had seen the ships from Portugal sailing along their coast, they had thought them to be birds coming from afar and cleaving the air with white wings. When the sailors let down the sails and drew the ships to the shore, the natives thought they must be fishes, and they stood stupidly on the shore gazing at the new wonder. On sailed the explorers, south and ever south, till they reached Cape Ferd, the most western point of West Africa. The long spell of white sand had now given way to green grass and trees, while native villages were dotted about on the seashore. But the Portuguese knew Cape Ferd already. Farther south they did not know. So Catamostos sailed on. They reached the mouth of the River Gambia and started up the stream to explore farther. But the Negroes, city black in color, dressed in white cotton with helmets on their heads, two white wings on either side and a feather in the middle, came against them. The natives were hostile and unfriendly, so Catamostos sailed away. He had already sailed farther south than any of the other Portuguese ships, two within measurable distance of the equator, that imaginary line that divides the world in two parts. Catamostos did not know that the world was round. He therefore tells Prince Henry on his return, as a curious piece of information, that the pole star had sunk so low that it almost touched the sea. And that they had seen, in their cruise down the African coast, the brilliant group of stars, the southern cross shining through the wonderful June nights. Catamostos had done much, but the Prince was not yet satisfied. In 1458 he planned a yet longer voyage, giving the command to his most faithful servant, Diego Gomez. His orders had been simple enough. He was just a sail as far as he could, farther and farther south. Would these explorers never find out what lay beyond the sea of darkness? Much had been learned. But how much more remained to be learned? Gomez started forth and sailed beyond Cape Verde, turning due west and coming on the Cape Verde Islands, important today as coaling stations for the large steamers flying between England and Africa and America. He had stories to tell of golden rivers, of gold mines, of ivory tusks and elephant teeth, of houses made of seaweed covered with straw. He returned to Portugal only in time to be present at the death of his beloved master, Prince Henry. Still working for the cause he had at heart, his motto, Desire to do well ever before him, Prince Henry fell ill. In his own town near Cape St. Vincent he lay dying within sound of the great Atlantic rollers, within sight of that vast sea of darkness he had failed to fathom. Perhaps he had done more than ever he dreamt. His energy, his untiring hope, his unwavering purpose and steady determination had awakened in his countrymen a spirit of enterprise and adventure. He had indeed roused mankind to the love of useful glory, and in unbounded commerce mixed the world. CHAPTER XXIX It seems strange at first sight to connect the discovery of printing with the discovery of new worlds and the navigation of new seas. But it was just at this time that the invention of printing began to play its large part in the world's history. You can imagine how eagerly men would print in books the accounts of the new lands, and how their hearts would glow as they read of the adventures of the stout-hearted sailors who went on voyages of discovery. The first book was printed in Europe just ten years before the death of Prince Henry, the sailor. But how did men read books before this? Everything was copied by hand. The old Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans wrote with sharply pointed instruments on sheets of dried skins or papyrus made from reeds. They wrote on one side only and rolled it up. A long book would be perhaps thirty yards in length. These rolls or books were kept in jars or wooden boxes, a number of which formed a library. They could only be read by the learned. Among the people there were no books at all. Now two countries, Holland and Germany, claim the honor of having invented printing. Nobody quite knows which is right, so here are the two stories. The men of Holland say that at Harlem lived a man called Koster. One day he took a walk and cut letters on the bark of a beech tree. He took them home and printed them on paper to amuse his children. Then he invented a kind of printing ink to put on the blocks of wood so that they left a mark on the paper. Soon after this he made letters of ten and lead, getting some workmen to come and help him. One night, when Koster was out, one of his workers called John stole all the metal letters, and taking them to Germany set up a press for himself. But the Germans say that a man called Gutenberg invented printing at a city on the Rhine. That he first thought of making pictures in wood and impressing them on paper by means of ink. Then he made letters or type of metal, and after seven years of hard work he printed a copy of the Bible. The secret of the printing press soon escaped to other parts of Europe, and presses were set up everywhere. Venice, Spain, and France caught the printing fever while England was not far behind them. The story of how Caxton introduced printing into England is always interesting. News of Gutenberg's discovery reached him, and he went off to Germany to learn the art, knowing what again it would be to his country. For thirty-five years he labored abroad, after which he returned in triumph to England, bringing with him his treasure. A printing press and a book containing a history of Troy, which he had translated and printed with great labour. For my pen is worn, my hand weary, mine eyes dimmed with over much looking on the white paper, and my courage not so ready to labour as it hath been, he says pitifully in his preface. There were no bookbinders in those days, so he bound the book himself, and very clumsy it must have looked. The wooden boards between which the leaves were fastened were as thick as the panel of a door. They were covered with leather. Outside on the cover were large brass nails with big heads. The back was stuck with glue laid on thickly, while the book was fastened with a thick clasp. No one can carry it about, much less read it, says one, speaking of the very early books printed by Caxton. When other men would have ceased work, this man worked on. He printed book after book of English poetry for the people to read and know. He worked on till the day of his death. He was not slumbering when his call came. He was still laboring at the work for which he was born. It was eventide, and the sun was sending its last red streaks of light into Caxton's little workshop. When four men entered, clothed in black, grave, sad, and downcast, the room looked deserted, papers lay about, the ink-plots were dusty. A thin film had formed over the ink. The machinery looked oily and unused. The four men drew in their stools, those stools on which they had sat through many a long day working to the end of some manuscript, encouraged by the master who would now direct them no more. Companions said one. This good work must not stop. Who is to carry it on? asked one sadly. I am ready, cried the first speaker. A cry of joy rose to the lips of the honest workman. Yes, they said, we will carry on the work briskly in our good master's house. Printing must go forward. So the faithful workmen carried on the work of their master Caxton, and in the course of the next forty years they had printed four hundred volumes. So after a time men could read the travels of Marco Polo, the records of the Portuguese explorers, the adventures of Columbus. Maps of the newly discovered regions could be printed, and men's minds open to the wonders of the world around them. End of Chapter 29 Chapter 30 OF THE DISCOVERY OF NEW WORLDS Over the great windy waters, and over the clear crested summits, unto the sun and the sky. Come, let us go! CLUFF Prince Henry was dead, but his work did not die with him. At the time of his death, in fourteen sixty, his ships had not gone farther than the spot where Hanno had found his gorillas two thousand years before. But he had roused in his countrymen the spirit of adventure, of curiosity in regard to the unknown seas which should never die. Some years after his death the equator was at last crossed. Wherever they landed it was the custom of the Portuguese to set up crosses to show that they had taken possession of the country. Sometimes they would also carve Prince Henry's motto on the trees, together with the name they gave to the new land. Later they took out stone pillars with a royal arm sculptured in front surmounted by a cross. In fourteen eighty-four one of these stone pillars was set up by a knight of the king's household at the mouth of the large river, known to us now as the Congo. From the river Niger to this river they found the coast very flat, made up of lagoons and swamps, with the bottom of black mud alive with land crabs, hot beds of African fever. It would take too long to tell how the king of Congo became a Christian and commanded all the idols throughout his kingdom to be destroyed. How he received the Portuguese seated on a throne of ivory raised on a lofty platform. His black and shining skin was uncovered, safe for bracelets of copper on his arm. A horse's tail hung from his shoulder and a cap of palm leaves. He was so impressed with the Portuguese that his children and grandchildren were sent to Lisbon to be educated. We must now pass on to a great expedition which was fitted out by the king of Portugal for further exploration. Two small ships were made ready, and one Bartholomew Dias, well known as a daring sailor, was given command. It was fitting that a Dias should fulfill the ruling desire of the prince's life. A Dias had been the first to double cape Bajador. A Dias had been the first to reach Cape Ferd. A member of the same sea-loving race was to sail first round the extremity of the unknown land of South Africa. The little party reached the farthest limit of Portuguese exploration and passed the farthest pillar on the coast of West Africa. Southwards still they sailed till they reached the mouth of the Orange River which flows westwards dividing the Orange River colony from Cape Colony. For the next thirteen days they were driven before the wind, due south, the weather growing colder and colder each day, for they were drifting far to the south of South Africa, though they still imagined the coastline ran north and south, as it had done for some time. When the wind abated a little, Dias steered in the direction he imagined to find land, and was not a little surprise to find himself on a little island in what we now call Algoa Bay. Here he set up a pillar with its cross and gave it the name of Santa Cruz. Which name still survives? And this was the first land beyond the Cape which was trodden by European feet. The crews now began to complain. They were worn out and weary, and they were alarmed at the heavy seas through which they were passing. Dias, his resolute face set eastward toward the unknown, could not bear the thought of returning without further information to bring home. But with one voice the sailors protested. At last it was agreed that they should sail on for three days in the same direction, and if they found no land at the end of that time they would return. They soon came to the mouth of a large river, now known as the Great Fish River, and as the eastern boundary of Cape Colony. Notwithstanding the interest of the fresh discovery, the crew began their complaints again. They must turn back. They would go no farther. Sadly, Dias was compelled to turn his back on the unknown. When he reached the little island of Santa Cruz he landed and bade farewell to the cross he had set up there, with as much sorrow as if he were leaving his child in that wilderness of waters, with no hope of ever seeing it again. It seemed as if they had faced all their dangers, undergone all their hardships in vain, and it was in the deepest grief that he sailed to the west on the way home. But as he sailed onwards to the west he came in sight of the mysterious cape which had been hidden from the eyes of man all through these long ages. He had some great news to tell the king of Portugal on his return. He had added to the knowledge of the great world. He had made the name of Dias famous throughout the ages, though he was yet unconscious how important his discovery really was. It shall be called the Cape of Storms, he said, when he reached Portugal and made his report to the king. But the king foresaw the possibility of this being the longed four way to the east. No, he said, rather the Cape of Good Hope. And it is the Cape of Good Hope to this day. Incessant laboring round the stormy cape, by bold ambition led. Thompson. Ten years had passed away since Bartholomew Dias had made his famous discovery with regard to the south of Africa, and still nothing further had been done. The king of Portugal had prepared three strong ships for an expedition, but he had not found a commander as yet. He was full of care both day and night, as to whom he should entrust with so great an enterprise. One day he was sitting in his hall of business, busy giving orders, when he raised his eyes and saw one of the gentlemen of his household crossing the hall. It was Vasco de Gama, a nobleman of high berth and a well-known sailor. As soon as the king saw him he called him. I rejoice if you would undertake the service which I require of you, in which you must labor much, he said, as his subject knelt before him. Sire answered Vasco de Gama, kissing the king's hand. I am a servant for any labor that may be, and since my service is required I will perform it so long as my life lasts. At last, early in the month of July 1497, all was ready. Vasco de Gama on horseback, with all the men of his fleet on foot, richly dressed in liveries and accompanied by all the courtiers, went down to the riverside and embarked in their boats. Reaching their ships they sailed to the mouth of the Tagus, where they waited for a wind to take them out to sea. Meanwhile an immense crowd gathered on the shore. Men and women were weeping, priests and monks were praying. All were filled with despair for those whom they never expected to see again. Surely they would be buried in the enormous sea waves that broke around the stormy cape, whither they were bound. It were better, they cried, to die on shore than so far away from home. The poet Camões, called the Virgil of Portugal, tells us that the shining sands were wet with their tears, but the commanders resolutely turned their eyes away to the open sea, and soon, with the royal standard flying from the masthead, the three ships sailed away. For four long months they sailed to the south, until one November day at noon, Vasco de Gama sailed before a wind past the formidable Cape, to which the King of Portugal had given the undying name of good hope. It is interesting to note that today the voyage from Lisbon to the Cape takes just over a fortnight. After anchoring for a few days in a little port near the Cape, they again stood out to sea. And now the wind blew with renewed fury. The sea was terrible to behold, and the sailors suffered severely. They besought their commander to turn back. Put your trust in the Lord. We shall yet double the Cape, answered Vasco de Gama resolutely. Night and day he worked with the men, enduring all their hardships. As they stood farther out to sea, the storms increased. Enormous waves dashed over the ships, and every moment they seemed to be going to pieces. Again the sailors and pilots cried to him to have pity on them and to turn the ship back to land. Then the commander grew angry, and swore that come what might, he meant to double the Cape of good hope. And the crews worked with fresh vigor when they saw such plug and perseverance, until after some days they again made land. The seas grew calmer, the winds hushed, and they all knew that the Cape had been doubled at last. And great joy fell upon them, says the old Portuguese historian, and they gave great praise to the Lord on seeing themselves delivered from death. But their troubles were not over yet. Another storm broke with redoubled fury on them. The seas rose toward the sky and fell back in heavy showers that flooded the ships. Turn back, turn back, cried the terrified sailors once more, till the commander was forced to answer that he would throw into sea whoever spoke of such a thing again. For backwards he would not go, even though he saw a hundred deaths before his eyes. If he did not find that for which he was searching he would not return to Portugal at all. They now passed Algoa Bay and the little island of Santa Cruz, where Diaz had put up his cross. As it was Christmas Day, to the coast along which they were sailing they gave the name of Natal. Keeping along the coast they came presently to the mouth of a large river up which Vasco de Gama sailed his ships, which were now badly in need of repair. So thankful were the weary mariners for this shelter that they exclaimed. It is the mercy of the Lord. Three times, for which reason they named it the River of Mercy, though today it is known as the Zambezi River. Having repaired the ships and refreshed them in, the commander set up a marble pillar, on which was engraved, of the Lordship of Portugal, Kingdom of the Christians. Then Vasco de Gama called his men together and spoke to them about their want of courage and thoughts of treason, until they wept and promised to serve him to the end. So they weighed anchor and sailed out of the river. End of Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Of the Discovery of New Worlds This Lubrivox recording is in the public domain. The Discovery of New Worlds By M.B. Singh Chapter 32 India at Last O'er Oriental waters now they fly upon the Indian seas, and now their chosen task is almost done. Kamoans A few days cruising along the eastern coast brought Vasco de Gama to the merchant town of Mozambique, only a few degrees to the south of the equator. Here, however, the chief of the district proved unfriendly, and the Portuguese commander sailed on to Melinda, a trading city on the open coast. It was Easter day when they anchored in front of the town. News of their coming had spread like wildfire along the coast, and the Indian merchant ships in port were dressed out with flags in their honor. The king proved a friend in need. I will give you pilots, he said, to take you to the city of Calicut, which is in the country where pepper and ginger grow. It was August before they were ready to sail. The king was very sad at letting them go, and watched till he could see them no longer. Lord God have mercy. Farewell. Cried the Portuguese sailors as they sailed away into the open sea, leaving the coast of Africa. For twenty days they sailed to the east, guided by the pilot, and then Vasco de Gama cited the long faint line of the Indian coast for which he had sailed so far. That is India, said the pilot, nodding his head in the direction to which all eyes were strained. This is India, echoed the sailors in content, gazing anxiously from the mast head. It was a tremendous moment for the Portuguese commander, when after three hundred and four days of tossing on the ocean he arrived at Calicut on the coast of India. It was more than he could bear, the poet Camões tells us. Falling down on his knees, he spread his hands abroad to the blue heavens above him. While in the depth of his joy he could find no words. His heroic task was accomplished. He had fulfilled the desire of his king, the dream of Prince Henry of Portugal, in days gone by. People soon flocked to see the Portuguese ships and sailors, for they soon discovered that Vasco de Gama had gold and silver on board in exchange for the spices of the east. Their king, too, was anxious to hear of the great Christian king of Portugal. Vasco de Gama, accompanied by twelve of his best-looking sailors, went on shore, taking presents for the eastern monarch. They took magnificent pieces of scarlet cloth and crimson velvet, a splendid gilt mirror, fifty knives with ivory handles and glittering blades, and other tokens of Portuguese wealth, so that the king swore eternal friendship with his brother, the king of Portugal, and gave his representatives free leave to buy and sell as they pleased at Calicut. Moreover, he presented de Gama with a beautiful jeweled sword, in a scabbard of velvet and gold, as a solemn pledge of friendship. Then the Portuguese loaded their ships with the treasures of Calicut, and enriched with presents from the king, they sailed away for home. With a fair wind, and under the guidance of the pilots, they soon reached Melinda again, sailed past Mozambique, past what we now know, Azanzibar, and rounded the dreaded Cape of Good Hope in fair weather. With shouts of joy they reached Lisbon, exactly two years and eight months after their departure. The ships had been seen, and the king was waiting to receive Vasco de Gama and eager to hear his news. With his long beard, which had never been cut since he left Lisbon, the successful explorers stepped ashore and kneeling low before his king. He kissed his hand again and again, saying, Sire, all my hardships have come to an end at this moment. The news spread far and wide, and great were the rejoicings throughout Portugal, and indeed throughout Europe. Another road had been discovered to a country which, famed for its riches, had been the envy of western nations from the earliest times, the dream of every youth of every age from the days of Solomon. Did we say rejoicings everywhere in Europe? There was only one city that did not rejoice at this famous discovery. One city, proud, beautiful, rich, which seemed stunned by the news. It is the worst news that ever arrived, they said sadly. For Venice, amid her waste of waters, was ruined. No longer did she hold the gorgeous east in fee. Her traffic, her commerce, had been taken from her. She had been the first city in Europe. Till the unwelcome tidings came, that in the Tagus had arrived a fleet from India, from the regions of the sun, fragrant with spices, that away was found, a channel opened, and the golden stream turned to enrich another. Then she felt her strength departing, and at last she fell. Fell in an instant, blotted out, and raised. End of Chapter 32 Chapter 33 OF THE DISCOVERY OF NEW WORLDS This LubriVox recording is in the public domain. THE DISCOVERY OF NEW WORLDS By M. B. Singh Chapter 33 THE NEW TRADE ROOT Then from ancient gloom emerged the rising world of trade. Thompson It was some time before the rejoicings subsided, which had burst over Portugal on the safe return of Vasco de Gama, who had been laden with every possible honor. All eyes now turned to far off India, even though the way lay through stormy seas, even though it was a well-known fact that Vasco de Gama had lost his brother and more than half his men in the perilous voyage. The pepper, cloves, cinnamon, ginger, and mace brought back from Calicut had yielded immense profits at home, and men were eager to go and get more. So the king fitted out another expedition, and gave the command of it to Pedro Cabral, with whom Bartholomew Diaz, the original discoverer of the Cape, was to sail. Thirteen ships were well supplied and manned. Monks were to sail with the fleet in order to teach Christianity to the native Indians, while twelve hundred picked soldiers went in case of trouble. The fleet sailed from Lisbon on March 9th, 1500. Cabral guided his ships past the Capeford Island safely, and then for some reason, perhaps driven by stormy weather, he took a westerly course that he knew. On and on he sailed, till a month later he found himself on an unknown coast in an unknown land. It was Brazil in South America, but he named it Santa Cruz, and took formal possession of it in the name of the King of Portugal. Sending a ship home with the news, and some gorgeous parricots from the country, he then made his way to India. Two months after he left Lisbon he reached the Cape, as the ships sailed round the southern point they encountered a terrific storm. The waves rolled mountains high, the wind whistled and shrieked, and four ships floundered. Among them was one commanded by Diaz, the man who had revealed the secret of the Cape, kept through so many long ages. For him it was indeed a Cape of Storms. With six ships only, Cabral pushed on to Mozambique, and thence to Calicut. He entered into a commercial treaty with the Indians, but treachery was at work, and a number of Portuguese were massacred. Cabral returned to Lisbon with only three ships out of the thirteen that started, for he lost one on the reefs near Melinda, laden with spices from India. Sire, my inclination prompts me to make another voyage, said Vasco de Gama one day after the return of Cabral, whose doubtful fortune had disappointed the King. Wherefore I entreat your highness to allow it for your service. The King was delighted, and Vasco de Gama was soon afloat again with thirteen ships, ten of which were ships of war. For this was to be an expedition of revenge on the King of Calicut, for his double dealing with the Portuguese. I fill in my heart a great wish to go and make havoc of the King of Calicut, so that I may take vengeance on him, and that your highness may be much pleased, were among Gama's last words to his Christian sovereign. It was a sorry way to carry the message of peace to the natives of India. With banners and standards and crosses of Christ on every sail the ship started on March 25, 1502. They had a tremendous storm while rounding the Cape, which separated the fleet, but all save one turned up at Mozambique. It was August before they reached Melinda, where the King received Gama as an old friend, and loaded him with presents. Sailing on to India, the Portuguese commander took a horrible revenge on the Indian traitors, whom he wished to impress with the power and the majesty of the great Christian monarch whom he served. He ordered that some eight hundred merchants, captured in peaceful commerce, should have their hands, ears, and noses cut off, their feet tied together, and be placed in heaps on board ship, covered over with dry mats and leaves. Then the ship was set on fire, with her sails set, and so drifted to shore. No wonder the King of Calicut prepared a fleet to sail against this cruel Portuguese commander. But he was no match for well-equipped ships from the west. More revenge and cruelty followed, until in the end Vasco de Gama terrified the merchants into submission, left a Portuguese colony on the Indian coast, and sailed for home with ten ships laden with wealth from India. Great were the King's rejoicings when he saw Vasco de Gama again. You shall be admiral of the Indian seas for ever, he cried. Some years later Vasco de Gama went out to India again, and there he died, far away in the country he had discovered for Portugal. He had rendered great services to his King and to the whole world, but the glory of his fame will ever be stained by the remembrance of his cruel oppression to the traitors on the western coast. End of Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Of The Discovery of New Worlds This Libervox recording is in the public domain. The Discovery of New Worlds by M. B. Singh Chapter 34 Golden Goa Where the gorgeous east, with richest hand, showers on her King's barbaric pearls and gold. Milton While Vasco de Gama was on his way back from India to Portugal, another expedition left Lisbon under a man who was destined to be one of the wisest and justest of Portuguese rulers in that far-off country. Afonso da Albuquerque was brought up at the court of the King of Portugal and taught with the King's own sons. He had shown himself fearless in battle, chivalrous in action, and wise in times of peace. It was natural, therefore, that he should be selected to take charge of three ships, bound, as all ships from Portugal were bound at this time, for the coast of India. He soon returned from a successful voyage to lay before the King his idea of closing other routes to this rich country of India, so that Portugal alone could get its treasure. Up to this time ships manned by the Moors and Arabs had taken the treasure to or must, a rich city on the Persian Gulf whence it was taken to the mouth of the Euphrates across Asia Minor on caravans to the coast, and shipped thus to Europe. Or it was taken by ship to Suez, thence by caravan to Cairo, and down the Nile to Alexandria, whence ships from Venice distributed it to Europe. This must be stopped, said Albuquerque, jealous for his country's wealth. And with this object in view he again started for the East. He sailed to Ormaz, the richest jewel set in the ring of the world, as the old writer called it, and grasped the importance of getting the town to stop the trade between India and Europe that way. Having arranged matters to his satisfaction with the king of Ormaz, and planned a Portuguese fort, he cruised about on the shores of Arabia, establishing the power of Portugal everywhere. Then he sailed to India, whereby royal orders he was made governor. One of his first acts was the capture of the town of Goa, to the north of Calicut, for the commercial capital of the Portuguese in India. The island of Goa was formed by the mouths of two rivers, which fitted it easily for defence. There was safe anchorage and it had long been visited by the merchants of many nations. The capture of Goa was not easy, but Albuquerque was determined to take it, and finally did so. He then forbade the towns of Calicut and others to buy and sell, so that Goa, Golden Goa, as she was called, became one of the most splendid and wealthy cities on the face of the earth for the next hundred years. Ships laden with the wealth of India sailed from Goa to Lisbon, and no one was allowed to trade with India except by leave of the Portuguese at this time. On the east coast of Africa today we have names surviving from these times. Al Goa Bay, to Goa, was a stopping place for ships journeying to this great Indian island of Goa. While Dela Goa Bay, farther north and still belonging to the Portuguese, was the other stopping place back from Goa, as its name implies. Early in the year 1513 Albuquerque set out for the harbor of Goa, bound for the Red Sea, with a fleet of twenty ships. Now the Arabs living on the shores of the Red Sea, greatly resented the Portuguese taking away their trade with India, and when they heard that the fleet was already selling for Odin, a town at the narrow straits leading to the Red Sea, they lit fires on the hills beyond, to lure the ships to destruction. But the Portuguese steered safely into harbor, and after an unsuccessful attempt to storm the city set fire to the ships and sailed on. Albuquerque explored the shores of the Red Sea, but did not reach Suez, the goal he had in mind. It is, however, an interesting point to be noted here, that the route from Europe to India that Albuquerque tried to close is today the short highway for ships to the Far East. For in the year 1869 the Suez Canal was opened, one hundred miles in length, which joined the Mediterranean Sea with the Red Sea. Albuquerque now sailed back past Odin to the mouth of the Persian Gulf, in order to reduce or muzz. For the old king was dead, and the Portuguese fortress was not finished. The great governor of India and conqueror of Goa soon made his presence felt. Ormuz was conquered, and the fortress completed. The fame of Albuquerque was now at its height, but his health was broken. Day by day he grew worse. Such was his fame that people from all over the country came to the fortress at Ormuz, and tried and get a sight of him. If perchance he rode out on horseback, so great was the crowd that he could hardly go forward. At last he felt sure that the end was nearing. He wished to reach Goa, the city he had conquered, the city he loved. So one day early in November 1515 a ship sailed away from Ormuz, bearing the dying man back to India. A deep sorrow awaited him. He lived to learn that the king had appointed another governor to succeed him. In bad repute with men, because of the king, and in bad repute with the king, because of men, cried the dying man, holding up his hands. It were well that I were gone. Outside Goa, the great capital of Indian commerce, he died, and so great was the crying and weeping on all sides, that it seemed as if the very river of God was being poured out, cried the old chronicler. End of Chapter 34 Chapter 35 of The Discovery of New Worlds This looper-box recording is in the public domain. The Discovery of New Worlds by NBCing Chapter 35 Christopher Columbus 18 Long Years of Waste Seven in Your Spain Lost Tennyson Columbus One day in the year 1484, a tall, strongly built man of commanding presence stood before the king of Portugal at the court of Lisbon. All men of adventurous spirit were drawn to Portugal in these days, for though Prince Henry was long since dead, the enthusiasm he had aroused lived on in his heirs. Portuguese sailors had already passed the equator, had even reached the Congo, on the west coast of Africa. But the cape was yet shrouded in mystery when Christopher Columbus stood before the king. Little did that king realize the strength of the man who now stood before him. He could not read those king blue-gray eyes, kindling with eager interest, as the Italian unfolded his great, his wonderful plan. Sail to the west, and the east will be found. Such words seemed at first the words of a madman. Columbus explained his idea to the king. He told him of the long years he had worked at his scheme, how sure he felt that there was a shorter way to the east, to the land of the great con of Marco Polo fame, then by Africa. The world was surely round. If Asia could be reached by sailing east, surely it could be reached by going west. If the king would grant him ships and money, he was ready to go and see. The king listened with interest and referred the plan to some of his learned men. They called Columbus a dreamer and scoffed at his dreams. Finally they persuaded the king to an ungenerous act. They got from Columbus the plans of his proposed voyage, and while they kept him in suspense awaiting the king's decision, they dispatched some ships off privately to investigate the matter. Away sailed the ships to the Cape Verde Islands. But the weather grew stormy. The pilots trembled at the sight of an unlimited waste of wild tumbling waves, and, losing heart, they returned to tell the king of their failure. When Columbus heard of this injustice, he straight way left Portugal. He would have nothing more to do with a country who could serve him thus. He took his little son Diego by the hand and went to Spain. One day, says an old story, a stranger walked up to the gate of an ancient monastery, which stood on a solitary height overlooking the southern sea coast of Spain. The stranger, who was leading a small child, stopped to ask for bread and water, for the boy was hungry. It was Christopher Columbus and little Diego. They were taken in and fed, and the friar of the monastery was much struck with the grand ideas put forth by this stranger within his gates. He strongly advised him to go to the Spanish court, where he could find a king and queen, Ferdinand and Isabella, who would certainly listen to his plans. So leaving little Diego behind, he set forth to try and get an audience with the king and queen of Spain. Now the moors against whom the cit had fought four centuries before were still reigning in the southern part of Spain called Granada. All the country was taken up with a great war that was going on between the Christian monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella, and the Moorish king of Granada, and Columbus could get no one to listen to his great scheme. Weeks and months, even years went by, and the Spanish monarchs could spare no time to give audience to the future discoverer of America. It was not till the end of the year 1491 that he was summoned to the king and queen at their camp outside the town of Granada, which they were besieging. So poor was he by this time that the queen sent him money to get close suitable to appear at court. Here was the great chance for which he had so longed. But though poor, Columbus was proud. He believed in his plan, and he demanded great things. He must be made admiral and viceroy of all the new seas and countries that he should discover, and have one-tenth part of all the gains. His demands were laughed at, and he was dismissed by the Spanish court. Mounting his mule, Columbus rode sadly away. Once more he had failed. But his friends could not bear to see him treated thus. They approached Queen Isabella. In glowing colors they put before her the great possibilities of the scheme, until she exclaimed with fervor, I will undertake the enterprise for my own crown of castile, and will pledge my jewels to raise the necessary funds. A messenger rode hard after Columbus, brought him back to the queen, and all was settled for the great voyage. Spain, after all, was to have the glory and honor of sending Columbus to discover the new world. End of Chapter 35 Chapter 36 of The Discovery of New Worlds This LubriVox recording is in the public domain. The Discovery of New Worlds by M. B. Singh Chapter 36 The Last of the Moors If Earth contains a paradise, it is beneath Granada's skies. While Columbus is preparing for his first voyage to the West, let us take a look at the country he is now serving, and tell again the picturesque story of the fall of Granada. In the days of the Cid, the Moors had occupied a large part of Spain, but since then they had been driven nearer and nearer to the coast, till only the beautiful kingdom of Granada was left to them. It was this stronghold that the King of Spain was besieging when Columbus laid before him his great plan of Discovery, and with the fall of Granada the long reign of the Moors in Spain was over. This beautiful city stood on two lofty hills. One of them was crowned by the famous palace and fortress of the Alhambra, celebrated for its marble colonnades, its domes, and its ceilings glowing with color. While the city's in the plains panted with heat, fresh breezes played through the marble halls of the Alhambra. So pure was the air, so beautiful was the earth in this spot, that the Moors used to imagine that their prophet Muhammad dwelt in that part of the heaven that hung over Granada. Ferdinand and Isabella were Christians, and they could not bear the Moors to hold any part of their Christian country in Spain. One day they sent a Spanish messenger to demand a tribute from the King of the Moors. Tell your King, cried the fierce Moor bitterly, that the Kings of Granada who used to pay tribute to the King of Spain are dead. Our mint coins, nothing now but blades of swords and heads of lances. The Spanish messenger rode away, noting as he rode the strength of this last stronghold of the Moors. Ferdinand now sent to demand a complete surrender of the town. He received back a firm answer that the Moors would sooner die than yield up their beautiful city to the Christian warriors and Ferdinand prepared for war. The den of arms now filled the city. Under Musa, one of the proudest of the Moors, the men of Granada gathered. They would defend their town even with their lives. Ferdinand's plan was to devastate the plains round Granada and so starve the city into surrender. He laid waste the fields of waving corn. He burnt the lovely gardens and orchards which were the pride and joy of the Moors. But still the standard of Muhammad waved defiance to the Christian King from the red towers of the Alhambra. How has thy strength departed, O Granada, lamented the Moors? How has thy beauty withered, O city of groves and fountains? The commerce that once thronged thy streets is at an end. The merchant no longer hastens to thy gates with luxuries of foreign lands. They prepared for attack from the Spaniards, but in the hour of her despair Granada was no easy city to take, and Ferdinand knew his only hope of success lay in starving out the people. At last famine began to make itself felt among the Moors. There was no harvest to look to. The orchards and gardens were burnt. Gloomy indeed was their outlook. What shall we do? asked the King hopelessly. Surrender, answered the Moors. Do not talk of surrender, cried the brave Musa. Our means are not yet exhausted. We have one source of strength remaining. It is our despair. Let us rouse the mass of the people and armed them. Rather let us fall in the defense of our city than survive to surrender. But his fiery words fell on the ears of brokenhearted men. Heroic as they were, the despairing Moors turned a deaf ear to them. Surrender, surrender, they moaned. And the King listened to them and yielded. He sent to Ferdinand to treat for terms. At the end of seventy days the city was to surrender. When the Moors found that the moment had come when they, the conquerors of Spain, must be blotted out forever as a nation, they gave way to piteous tears. Leave this weeping to the women and children, cried Musa. We are men. We have hearts, not to shed tender tears, but drops of blood. Let us die defending our liberty. Let it not be said the nobles of Granada feared to die. But the care-worn Moors were beyond Musa's appeal. It was hopeless to content longer. He rose angrily as the King signed the agreement, strode gloomily through the marble courts, armed himself, and mounting his favorite war-horse, rode forth from the gates of Granada. He was never heard of more. The weary days passed by until the last day came. The royal treasures were packed on mules, and before dawn a weeping procession of downcast Moors, with their King, passed from the beautiful city they would never see again. The sun was shining above the snowy peaks behind the city, when the King and Queen of Spain rode across the plain to take possession of Granada. The joyful procession met the unhappy Moorish King, who yielded up the keys. These keys are the last relics of the Moorish Empire in Spain, he said miserably, and as he journeyed on in gloomy silence the shouts of the victorious Spaniards fell on his ears. As he reached the hill which commanded the last view of Granada he stopped. The sun caught the silver cross of the Christians as it sparkled on the watchtower of the Alhambra. God is great, he groaned, bursting into tears. God is great. When did such misfortunes equal mine? So did the Moors leave Spain forever. End of Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Of The Discovery of New Worlds This Lubrivox recording is in the public domain. The Discovery of New Worlds by M. B. Singh Chapter 37 Discovery of the New World Lord of the Lordly Sea, Earth's mightiest captain, he Watson The year 1492 was a proud year for Spain, when the last Moorish stronghold had fallen and Christopher Columbus had started on his great voyage of discovery. He had had difficulties in making the preparations for his start. The Spanish sailors looked on the expedition with horror and the commander as a madman. It was early on the morning of August 3 that the little fleet of three ships sailed forth from a southern Spanish port. A more unwilling crew never left land. As the last speck of Spain vanished from their backward gaze and only the wide waters of the Atlantic stretched before them the men burst into tears as they thought of the home and friends they never expected to see again. Ten day sail brought them to the Canary Islands, and now instead of turning south as the Portuguese sailors were doing, Columbus steered to the west, a direction in which no man had steered before. As day after day, week after week passed by, bringing no sight of land, but only a wide expanse of waters, the crew grew more and more discontented. They complained and murmured against their admiral until they nearly broke into open mutiny. We are in the seas where never yet man ventured before, they said among themselves. Are we to sail till we perish? Surely it would be wiser to throw the admiral into the unknown sea and turn the ships for home. And Columbus? He knew all this, but he set his face resolutely forward. He never wavered from his course. His faith in his great plan never left him. He tried to stir his men to interest themselves in the strange land to which he was guiding them, and offered a large reward to the man who should first see land. So they sailed on. Till at last it became evident that land was not very far off. Birds came singing about the ships, weeds were seen floating in the water, and a branch of thorn with red berries was borne past them. Awe became eager enough now. It was the evening of October 7th, two months since they had left home. When the crews collected as usual to sing their evening hymn, Columbus spoke to them. Land was very near now, he said. God had been good to bring them in safety thus far. Let every man watch, for their reward was at hand. Not an eye closed that night. As darkness came on, Columbus took his watch on the highest place in the ship, while his eyes searched again and again the dusky horizon. About ten o'clock he saw a glimmering light far away. Every eye was fixed on it, till at two o'clock in the early morning a gun fired from one of the other ships proved him right. Land had been seen. Eagerly, impatiently, they awaited daylight. When the sun rose on the morning of the Eighth, there stretched before the earnest eyes of the Resolute Commander, a beautiful island, green, cool, and well-wooded. They had reached the Bahama Islands off the coast of America. But Columbus thought they were off the coast of Asia, never realizing that a whole country stretched between him and Asia. Taking the royal standard of Spain and throwing a crimson cloak over his coat of mail, he rode to shore. As he stepped on the newly found land he threw himself onto his knees, kissed the strange new earth, and praised God with tears of joy. Then rising he drew his sword and took possession of the island in the name of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. The men now thronged round him, kissing his hands, begging forgiveness, assuring him of their unbounded trust in him. And Columbus? He had accomplished the work of his life. The thoughts and plans and dreams of a lifetime had been crowned with success. He had discovered a new world of vast importance, this much he knew, and no more. Natives now came up to the Spaniards. They had gazed for some time at the shining armor, the swarthy skins, long beards, and splendid dress of these strangers to their shores. Now by signs they told the Spaniards of Moorland to the South and West. So away sailed Columbus, finding another island, now called Cuba, just off the coast of Florida in North America. It was also beautiful here. Birds of brilliant colors never ceased to sing. Clear streams and rivers flowed to the sea. There were stately forests, sweet-smelling flowers, all under a deep blue sky. From island to island they cruised, discovering many things of which no man had dreamt before. In Cuba they discovered tobacco and potatoes, two products hitherto unknown in Europe. But now Columbus wanted to get back to Spain to tell his wondrous news. On the way home a terrible storm burst over the Atlantic, and it seemed for a time as if the little Spanish ships must perish with all on board. But they triumphantly weathered the gales, and sailed into the Spanish harbor of Palos, just seven months after their departure.