The Canary Islands by Florence Du Cane - HTML preview

XIV

HISTORICAL SKETCH

FEW people, until they are proposing to pay a visit to the “Fortunate Islands,” a name by which the group of seven Canary Islands seems to have been known since very early days, ever trouble themselves to learn anything of their history. Beyond the fact that they belong to Spain, a piece of information probably surviving from their school-room days, they have never troubled their heads about them, and I have known a look of surprise come over the face of an Englishwoman on hearing a Spaniard mention a fact which probably dated “from before the Conquest, quite five centuries ago,” entirely forgetting that “the Conquest” could mean anything but the English conquest, instead of the conquest of the Canary Islands by the Spaniards at the latter end of the fifteenth century.

Possibly the reason that so few authentic records remain of their ancient history is that though the outlying islands of the group are only some 80 or 100 miles from the African coast, still they were on the extreme limit of the ancient world. The various theories that they were really the home of the Hesperides, or the garden of Atlas, King of Mauretania, where the golden apple was guarded by the dragon, the Peak being the Mount Atlas of mythology, or again that they were merely the remains of the sunken continent of Atlantis, can never really be settled, but it seems almost certain that they were not entirely unknown to the ancients. The fact that Homer mentions an island “beyond the Pillars of Hercules,” as the Straits of Gibraltar were called, has caused the adoption of the Pillars of Hercules, with a small island in the distance surmounted with Oce ano, as one of the coats-of-arms of the Islands, though the more correct one appears to be the two large dogs (because of the two native dogs which were taken back to King Juba about 50 B.C., when he sent ships from Mauretania to inspect Canaria) supporting a shield on which is depicted the seven islands. Herodotus in his description of the countries beyond Libya says that, “the world ends where the sea is no longer navigable, in that place where are the gardens of the Hesperides, where Atlas supports the sky on a mountain as conical as a cylinder.” Hesiod says that “Jupiter sent dead heroes to the end of the world, to the Fortunate Islands, which are in the middle of the ocean.” There is no doubt that the Romans, on re-discovering the Islands, christened them Insulæ Fortunatæ, which name has clung to them ever since.

Pliny, in writing about the islands, quotes the statements of Juba, who said the islands were placed at the extreme limit of the world, and were perpetually clothed with fire.

It is unfortunate that the Spaniards, when they conquered the islands, took no trouble to preserve any of their ancient records, and as the natives could not write, any history which might have been handed down from generation to generation was entirely lost. For this reason very little is known for certain as to what happened to the islands in the Middle Ages, though they appear to be mentioned by an Arabian geographer in the early part of the twelfth century, who writes of “the island of the two magician brothers, Cheram and Clerham, from which, in clear weather, smoke could be seen issuing from the African coast.” Various European countries, having heard tales of islands beyond the seas, appear to have made efforts to conquer them. The fate of the Genoese expedition in A.D. 1291 is not known, and though the French are said to have “discovered” them in 1330, it was the Portuguese who took advantage of this discovery, and a few years later sent an expedition to conquer them. They met with no success, and were repulsed by the inhabitants of Gomera, and though they made yet another attempt after a few years, it appears to have been without result.

No doubt the comparative peace which reigned in the islands for so long was owing to the fact that Europe was too much occupied with civil wars and crusades, to explore and conquer far-off lands, but during the fourteenth century a French nobleman of Spanish extraction was made “King of the Fortunate Islands” by the Pope, and told to Christianise them in the best way he could. Nothing much seems to have come of these instructions, though some missionaries were no doubt sent to Grand Canary.

The conquest of the islands seems to have occupied the Spaniards for nearly a century, as in 1402 we read of Jean de Bethencourt (a name still common in the islands), who fitted out a ship for the purpose of conquering them and settling there. Lanzarote was peaceably occupied, as its fighting population was small, but in the neighbouring island of Fuerteventura he was repulsed. Henry King of Castille provided reinforcements, and, on condition that the Archipelago should be annexed in his name, Bethencourt was to be made “Lord of the Isles” of four of the group. The four smaller islands were soon brought under subjection—Fuerteventura, Lanzarote, Gomera, and Hierro; in fact, in some of the islands the newcomers were welcomed. The three larger islands—Canary, Teneriffe, and La Palma—proved a more serious undertaking, and the invaders being stoutly resisted and lacking in forces, their conquest was for a time abandoned, and Bethencourt did not live to see them subjugated. His nephew sold his rights to the Portuguese, which complicated matters. It was not until 1464 that any determined attack was again made, though Spanish troops had made an unsuccessful attempt to conquer La Palma some ten years previously.

The Lord of Gomera, Diego de Herrera, made most determined attacks in 1464, beginning unsuccessfully in Canary; but in the same year he again collected his forces and attacked Teneriffe, landing at Santa Cruz. Don Diego, having been driven into a corner by the Canarios, sent his son-in-law, Diego da Silva, to make a counter-attack. He fared no better, and escape being cut off, offered to surrender, but quarter was denied. By a stratagem a Canario leader was seized as a hostage, and Silva demanded free passage to his ship, which was granted. Silva had misgivings as to the sincerity of the Canarios, and apparently was so glad to escape with his life, that when he arrived at his ship he and all his men voluntarily gave up their arms, and vowed never again to fight the Canarios—a vow which Silva, at any rate, kept, in spite of the indignation of Diego. Some of the men broke their promise, and joined Diego’s attacking forces again; and on being taken prisoners by the natives, instead of being put to death were condemned to spend their lives in brushing away flies, as execution was too high an honour for such base creatures.

Some years after, the “fly-flappers” were set at liberty, as Diego succeeded in making a treaty with the Canarios; but the island was far from being conquered, and still offered stout resistance, though the Spaniards seem by now to have determined not to let such a prize escape them. Reinforcements came from Spain, and a small body of cavalry, we are told, terrorised the natives, and though the Portuguese interfered on behalf of the Canarios, the Spaniards now got a footing in the island in the year 1478, during the reign of Ferdinand V. of Castille.

After many unsuccessful attacks from the other islands, it fell to the lot of Don Alonso de Lugo to complete the work of Jean de Bethencourt. “De Lugo el Conquistador, and afterwards Governor of the Province of the Canaries, was a Galician nobleman, who had served with distinction against the Moors in the conquest of Granada, and had been presented with the valley of Ageste (Canary) in return for his services. Whilst there he conceived the capture of Teneriffe and of La Palma, reconnoitring their coasts and acquainting himself with their geographical features.”

Helped by the inhabitants of Gomera, who by this time had become accustomed to the rule of the conquerors, De Lugo made a desperate though unsuccessful attempt in 1491 to conquer La Palma, which had remained in comparative peace for over half a century. It was not till 1492, after months of desperate fighting, that he succeeded in subduing the island and adding it as a prize to the dominions of Spain.

A year later he turned his attention to Teneriffe and landed at Añaza (Santa Cruz). He hoped that quarrels among the Guanches might be in his favour, but after a considerable number of his men had been cut to pieces at Matanza (Place of Slaughter) he was forced to retire, and after a year’s fighting evacuated the island, until reinforcements were sent to him. Before the close of the same year he returned to the attack, and desperate resistance was met with in the district of La Laguna. The Guanches, though successful in keeping the invaders at bay, were much discouraged by losing several of their leaders, and began to quarrel among themselves; how long they might still have held out it is impossible to know, but Providence seems at this moment to have come to the help of the Spaniards.

The disease known as Modorra, possibly some form of typhus fever, broke out among the Guanches. Old writings describe this disease as being most malignant and mysterious, and its effects among the natives were appalling. The Spaniards remained immune, but I should think it was not without qualms that they watched the ghastly destruction of their foes, who appear to have been seized with hopeless melancholia, lost all wish to live, and wandered about listlessly in troops or laid down in caves to die. One writer says: “Even at the present day such retreats are occasionally discovered, little heaps of bones or seated skeletons marking the spot where the despairing victims sank to rise no more. It is said that some Spaniards, reconnoitring on the road to La Laguna, met an old woman seated alone on the Montaña de Taco, who waved them on, bidding them go in and occupy that charnel-house where none were left to offer opposition.”

De Lugo seems to have passed through the district of the modorra, but met with resistance in the valley of Orotava, where the Mencey of Taoro (the old name of Villa Orotava) advanced to meet him with a considerable force. Another sanguinary engagement took place at La Victoria and the invaders again had to retreat. The modorra still raged, and in 1496 the site of the present villages of Realejo Alto and Bajo, in the valley of Orotava, was the scene of the final capitulation of the Guanches, worn out by illness and perpetual fighting.

It is not altogether surprising that other countries looked rather longingly at Spain’s new possession, and both their Portuguese neighbours and the Moors made one or two feeble attempts to claim them.

England was not above making several attacks on the Islands. One unsuccessful expedition commanded by Sir Francis Drake was repulsed at Las Palmas in 1595, and about sixty years later Sir Robert Blake, in command of 36 vessels, attacked Santa Cruz, in Teneriffe, but beyond destroying forts, the shipping in the harbour, and sinking some treasure galleons, he does not seem to have done much. The English again disturbed the peace of the islanders in 1743, but Admiral Nelson’s attack of Santa Cruz in 1797 is the one which is of principal interest to the English, from the fact probably that it was Nelson’s one defeat, and here also he lost his arm. To this day Nelson’s two flags are carefully preserved in glass cases on the walls of the Iglesia de la Concepcion and are an object of great interest to many English travellers. The news that a galleon laden with treasure had arrived in Santa Cruz reached Admiral Jervis during the blockade of Cadiz, and he at once ordered Vice-Admiral Nelson, in command of 1500 men and 393 guns, to proceed to Teneriffe to secure the coveted prize. The Spanish authorities were formally demanded to deliver up the treasure on July 20, 1797, and not unnaturally refused. The town seems to have been strongly garrisoned, and Nelson, hampered by an unfavourable wind, made unavailing attempts to land and draw the soldiers from their forts. Under cover of darkness 700 men succeeded in getting close to the mole before the enemy discovered them, but soon a deadly fire was opened upon them, and several of the boats were sunk. Nelson had no sooner set foot on the jetty than his arm was shattered by a cannon ball. Incapacitated though he was by pain and loss of blood, directly he got back alongside his ship his first thought was for the men who had been left behind, and orders were at once given for the boat to go back to their assistance. The men who had succeeded in landing on the mole, encouraged by repulsing the enemy and spiking their guns, made a desperate attempt to attack the town. Their opponents were too numerous for this brave little band, and the guns from the Fort of San Christobal killed the greater number of their officers and wounded the rest; the survivors retreated in good order after holding their position on the mole nearly all night. In consequence of the darkness a party under Captain Trowbridge became separated and eventually landed at the other side of the town, and took possession of the old Dominican Monastery. Taking it for granted that Nelson’s party were in possession of the mole, and advancing to meet them, Trowbridge demanded the surrender of the fort, only to find that his enemy and not his friends were the victors. Eventually, seeing that success was impossible, he asked for permission to leave the town with all arms, and promised not to attack any part of the Canaries, or in the event of these conditions being refused he threatened to burn and sack the town. It is well known in history how courteously (once the evacuation terms were agreed to) the Spaniards treated their foe. The wounded were carefully tended, the invaders were allowed to buy provisions, and presents were interchanged between the greatest of England’s Admirals and Don Antonio Gutierrez, the Comandante-General of the Canaries, and it is said that the first letter Nelson wrote with his left hand was to thank the Spanish general for his care of his wounded men. After Nelson’s attack the Canaries appear to have remained in the undisputed possession of Spain, and were made a province of the Mother Country, Santa Cruz, Teneriffe, being made the capital and seat of government, somewhat to the annoyance of the other islands. Those who are really interested in the history of the conquest of the Islands will find that there are many histories written in Spanish, most of which are to be seen in the great public library at La Laguna.

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