The discovery made by Vasco de Gama of a passage to India by the Cape of Good Hope had been preceded a few years by one of a far more novel and brilliant description in the opposite hemisphere. The Portuguese navigator had crowned by his success the persevering efforts of his nation, unremittingly continued during the course of seventy years: he had found out a new communication with that quarter of the world towards which the eyes of Europeans were always eagerly directed. Columbus on the other hand discovered a new world; not prompted by the encouragement of monarchs, nor continuing the track of previous voyagers, but by the sole force of his individual genius and enthusiasm, he at once effected an achievement, superior in boldness of design and in its important consequences to any other that occurs in the history of man.

Little is known of the early life of Columbus. Historians are generally agreed that he was born in the state of Genoa in the year 1441. The little villages of Cogoreo and Nervi dispute with the cities of Genoa and Savona the honour of having given him birth. His family, though reduced to indigence by misfortunes, had been originally ranked among the most illustrious nobility of Placenza.

The history of the progress of geographical knowledge is calculated more than that of any other branch of learning to illustrate the progressive civilisation of mankind. It has for its object, in some measure, the diffusion of the species, but is more immediately connected with the advancement of navigation and commercial enterprise. Instead of confining the attention to the fortunes of a particular community, it carries the eye of the enquirer continually abroad, to survey all the nations of the earth, to mark the knowledge they obtained of one another, and the extent of their mutual acquaintance.

The principal charm of savage life arises from the unlimited range which it allows over the face of nature. Those who have once tasted the pleasure of roving at large through woods and mountains, can never afterwards feel happy under the restraints of society. Curiosity and the love of action, no less than their wants, must have continually urged the earliest inhabitants of the globe to explore all the varieties of its surface. Pastoral tribes feel an interest in learning the nature of the country in the vicinity of their encampments, the extent of its pastures, and the rivers which flow through and refresh it. But the observations of a rude age are seldom accumulated beyond the wants of the present moment. The movements by which those nomades acquire the knowledge along with the possession of new regions, generally lead to a total forgetfulness of their old habitations little correspondence is maintained by those who migrate with those who remain behind: so that in a short time the geographical knowledge of migratory nations is reduced to obscure and fading traditions.

While the poets of Greece perpetuated the memory of those happy regions of the West where innocence and contentment were supposed still to exist unalloyed, it was the occupation of Grecian philosophers to devise cosmological systems equally remote from truth and reality, and not unfrequently drawn, perhaps, from the same ample stores of Indian mythology. Brilliant fictions and daring hypotheses are, perhaps, the natural precursors of successful investigation: they serve at least to awaken curiosity; and where the freedom of the human mind is not fettered by the arts of an interested priesthood, even the fancies and extravagancies of active intellect make some progress towards the discovery of truth.

Thales (600 B. C.) taught the sphericity of the earth; but Anaximander, his disciple, compared it to a cylinder; Leucippus gave it the shape of a drum; others preferred the cubic form; and some, following Xeno-phanes and Anaximenes, believed it to be a high mountain, the base of which has an infinite extension, while the stars float round its summit. Heraclides, again, differing from the others, taught that the earth has the figure of a ship. These doctrines are all but repetitions of those taught by the different Indian sects, who assign to the earth the figure, or rather figures, of Mount Meru, and that of the mysterious ship Arghe. The Greeks may be excused for believing absurdities taught with so much solemnity, and surrounded with such an apparatus of learning.

The discoveries of the Arabians and Scandinavians in those parts of the earth which were unknown to the ancients remained long concealed from the learned of Europe. Nevertheless the geographical ignorance of the middle ages was not so great as might be concluded from the well-known anecdote of the abbot of Clugny in Burgundy: to him the neighbourhood of Paris seemed a country so remote, and so little known, that he refused to comply with the request of the count de Bourcard, who wished to establish a monastery of his order at St. Maur, near that city. In like manner some monks of Tournai, about the close of the twelfth century, sought in vain to discover the abbey of Ferrières. Thus it appears that the knowledge of the monks sometimes did not extend far beyond the walls of their monasteries.

Yet the monks were almost the only historians of the middle ages; and geography,on the whole, is not a little indebted to their labours. The darkest times and the most barbarous nations of Europe had their treatises of geography, or their chronicles, in which were inserted the descriptions of some countries whether neighbouring or remote. The chronicle of Emon, abbot of Werum, in Groningen, contains on the subject of a crusade (A. D. 1217) a detailed account of the whole march, with a description of all the countries between Palestine and Holland.

But still greater benefits resulted from the labours of the missionaries, who carried the faith to pagan nations, and travelled through countries but little known. Saint Boniface preached to the Sclavonians, and obeyed the injunctions of the pope in giving a written description of those barbarous nations.

The grand discovery made by Columbus caused a general transport of joy throughout Europe, and filled the popular mind with sanguine anticipations. He was immediately considered as one marked out by destiny for great achievements. The voyage across the ocean, under his auspices, was no longer looked upon with mistrust or gloomy bodings; it was regarded, on the contrary, as conducting to certain distinction and unbounded riches. The honours heaped on the admiral by his grateful sovereigns, as well as the specimens of gold and rare productions which he had brought from the newly discovered countries, all operated as incentives to the bold and the ambitious, the covetous and the needy. After the court had resolved to furnish the previous expedition, the greatest difficulty had been experienced in equipping three small vessels. That task had been imposed on the port of Palos, a place of some importance in Andalusia; but although sought to be enforced by magisterial authority, yet so many difficulties arose from the disinclination of the people to embark in what they considered a desperate enterprise, that the requisition might perhaps have never been effectually complied with, had it not been for the personal influence of the Pinzons. Martin Alonzo Pinzon, the eldest of the family, was a person of some consideration in this maritime district.

The march of Alexander was not attended with the ruin and desolation which usually mark the progress of eastern conquerors: he aimed at establishing a dominion permanent as well as universal, and, consequently, sought to gain the affections of his newly-conquered subjects. The success which attended all his measures was the result of deliberate policy and calculation. The power which waits on knowledge did not escape his notice; and he led in his train men of science, whose duty it was to make themselves acquainted with every thing worthy of notice in the subjugated countries.

The fate of Persia being decided by the flight of Darius, the conqueror conducted his army to Bactria and the country on the Oxus; in short, to the eastern extremity of the world as it was known to Grecian geographers. But he had higher objects in view than the mere glory of subduing barbarous nations: curiosity and ambition both drew his regards to India; of which Herodotus had said, “that it was undoubtedly the richest and most populous country in the world.” In consequence, when he had arranged the government of Persia, he marched into Candahar by the same route which was afterwards followed by the conquering armies of Tamer-lane and Nadir Shah, and which had been long trodden by the Indo-Scythians, or warlike mountain tribes of the Indian frontiers.

After a stay of one month and six days in Constantinople, Ibn Batuta returned to Astrachan, where he remained a little time. Leaving Tatary he now pursued his journey into Khavaresm or Chorasm, through a desert ill supplied with herbage or water. But in this part of his narrative there is such a deficiency of detail, either from the haste of the traveller himself, or the fault of his abbreviator, that no interest can be found in tracing his route, except that which is excited by his indefatigable love of locomotion. Chorasm was a populous city, and appeared to him to be the largest in the possession of the Turks. The people were polite and hospitable. One singular custom, however, prevailed among them; those who absented themselves from public worship were flogged by the priest in presence of the congregation, and fined, moreover, in a sum of five dinars. A whip was hung up in every mosque for the punishment of the neglectful. This custom is still retained in Bokhara, where the people are driven to worship with the whip. The most numerous sect in Chorasm were the Schismatics, or those who rejected predestination; but they did not care to spread abroad their heresy.

From Chorasm, Batuta went to Bokhara, which he found but imperfectly restored from the desolation poured upon it by Jengis Khan. He proceeded next to Samarcand, a rich and beautiful city, sanctified, in the devout theologian's eyes, by the tombs of numerous saints which it contained. Crossing the Gihon, he entered Khorasan, and travelling a day and night, through a desert without a habitation, arrived at Balkh, once a great city, but now in ruins.

The papal missions to the Tatars failed wholly in producing the effects expected from them; but they brought home some valuable information; and by making the European nations better acquainted with the character of the Mongols, tended, perhaps, not a little to moderate the apprehensions entertained of those formidable invaders. Although the austere and narrow-minded ecclesiastics, selected for those embassies, were little qualified by the habits of monastic life to succeed in such delicate negotiations, it would yet, perhaps, have been difficult to find persons better fitted by their zeal, fidelity, and patient resolution to break first the path of communication between the Christians and the Tatar conquerors: their sacred character met also with some respect, and served undoubtedly to protect them from the violent treatment to which, from their stubborn inattention to Eastern usages, they were frequently exposed.

The successors of Zingis Khan were remarkable for the indifference they manifested to religious creeds: they entertained the national belief in the existence of one God; but were wholly unacquainted with any collateral doctrines or ceremonies of religion. Yet they were not exempt from superstitious weakness, and gave a favourable reception to priests of every sect and persuasion, in order that by engaging in their interest every solemn rite and every mode of prayer, they might more surely propitiate the will of heaven. Among other ministers of religion who flocked about them were many Nestorian Christians, who, willing to magnify their own efficiency and importance, and unable to comprehend the light in which they were considered by the Mongol princes, spread abroad the rumour that these latter were actually become converts to Christianity.

The great sea discovered by Henry Hudson to the west of Cape Wolstenholm was a new beacon lighted up, as it were, for the guidance of future discovery. The merchants of London caused an expedition to be fitted out in 1612, which they intrusted to captain (afterwards sir Thomas) Button, an able seaman, at that time in the service of the accomplished prince Henry. Pricket and Bylot, who both accompanied Henry Hudson in his last unfortunate voyage, though they might both be justly suspected of having participated in the guilt of the mutiny, yet, being recommended by their experience of the western seas, were engaged to proceed in the present voyage. The names of the vessels equipped were the same as those which sailed under the celebrated Cook in his last voyage—the Resolution and the Discovery. Button, entering Hudson's Straits, kept an undeviating westerly course, till he reached the coast of a large island, at present called Southampton Island. From this continuing to sail westward, he fell in with the main land of America in latitude 60° 40′, to which he gave the name of Hopes Checked. He now ran south; and when in latitude 57° 10′, on the 15th of August, entered the mouth of a river, to which he gave the name of Nelson's River, and on which was subsequently situated the chief establishment of the Hudson's Bay company.