and if you leave them a long time
in your mouth, they will sting the tongue. In case you should burn
your tongue a little in tasting them, take some water, and the burning
sensation will be allayed. My messenger will also deliver to Your
Eminence some of those black and white seeds out of which they make
bread. If you cut bits of the wood called aloes, which he brings, you
will scent the delicate perfumes it exhales.

Fare you well.

From the Court of Spain, the third day of the calends of May, 1494.

BOOK III

TO CARDINAL LUDOVICO D'ARAGON

You desire that another skilful Phaeton should drive the car of the
Sun. You seek to draw a sweet potion from a dry stone. A new world, if
I may so express myself, has been discovered under the auspices of the
Catholic sovereigns, your uncle Ferdinand and your aunt Isabella, and
you command me to describe to you this heretofore unknown world; and
to that effect you sent me a letter of your uncle, the illustrious
King Frederick.[1] You will both receive this precious stone, badly
mounted and set in lead. But when you later observe that my beautiful
nereids of the ocean are exposed to the furious attacks of erudite
friends and to the calumnies of detractors, you must frankly confess
to them that you have forced me to send you this news, despite my
pressing occupations and my health. You are not ignorant that I have
taken these accounts from the first reports of the Admiral as rapidly
as your secretary could write under my dictation. You hasten me by
daily announcing your departure for Naples in company of the Queen,
sister of our King and your paternal aunt, whom you had accompanied
to Spain. Thus you have forced me to complete my writings. You will
observe that the first two chapters are dedicated to another, for I
had really begun to write them with a dedication to your unfortunate
relative Ascanio Sforza, Cardinal and Vice-chancellor. When he fell
into disgrace,[2] I felt my interest in writing also decline. It is
owing to you and to the letters sent me by your illustrious uncle,
King Frederick, that my ardour has revived. Enjoy, therefore, this
narrative, which is not a thing of the imagination.

Fare you well. From Granada, the ninth of the calends of May of the
year 1500.

[Note 1: Frederick III., of Aragon, succeeded his nephew Frederick
II., as King of Naples in 1496. Five years later, when dispossessed
by Ferdinand the Catholic, he took refuge in France, where