of Isabella of Castile, who, in spite of the
conservative apathy of the Council of Salamanca, was eager to become
the patroness of Christopher Columbus.

Although the Northmen of the tenth century had been blown almost
fortuitously upon the shores of Nova Scotia, by way of Iceland,
Greenland, and Labrador, the discovery of North America must always be
set to the credit of Christopher Columbus. From the age of fourteen he
had been upon the sea, and his keen mind was stored with all the
nautical science afforded by the awakened spirit of the time. To this
practical equipment he added a romantic temperament and a habit of
reflection which carried him to greater certainty in his convictions
than even that attained by his correspondent, the learned Toscanelli.
Assuming that the world was round--no commonplace of the time--he
determined forthwith to reach India by sailing westward. His bones lie
buried in the Western hemisphere, which his intrepidity revealed to an
astonished world.

As soon as Columbus, in the name of Ferdinand and Isabella, had opened
the gates of the New World, ships from England and France began to
hasten westward across the Atlantic. The Cabots, holding to the North,
discovered Newfoundland in 1497; Denis of Honfleur explored the Gulf
of St. Lawrence in 1506; and a few years later Verrazzano coasted
along the North Atlantic seaboard in four ships fitted out for him by
the youthful Francis of Angouleme. This voyage was practically the
beginning of French enterprise in the New World.

On Verrazzano's return to Dieppe, he sent the King a written account
of his travels, and France was presently burning with excitement over
the abundant riches of the New World. Spain, meanwhile, had been
reaping the wealth of the West Indies, and Hernando Cortes was laying
a stern hand upon the treasures of Mexico. And now disasters at home
were, for a time, to rob the fickle Francis of all ambition for
transatlantic glory. In the contest for the crown of the Holy Roman
Empire he had been worsted by Charles V., and shortly afterwards the
strength of France was hopelessly shattered at Pavia, the King being
carried back a prisoner to Madrid. But when, at last, the peace of
Cambrai had somewhat restored tranquillity to France, Philippe de
Brion-Chabot, a courtier at the Louvre, decided to follow up
Verrazzano's almost forgotten exploit of ten years before, and Jacques
Cartier became the instrument of this tardy resolution.