100 Documents That Changed the World

by Scott Christianson

  Christopher Columbus’s Letter

  (1493)

  On the return leg of his first voyage of discovery to the New World, Christopher Columbus writes a letter describing what he has found. It creates a sensation throughout Europe, and until the 19th century, it remains his only known written first-person account of the historic events of 1492–93.

  Before returning to Spain from his maiden voyage of 1492–93, the Genoese explorer Cristóbal Colón (Christopher Columbus) penned a report dated 15 February 1493 while aboard his caravel, La Niña, off the Canary Islands. In it he described what he had found on his journey in search of an ocean route to Asia.

  Columbus wrote that he had headed west across the Atlantic, reaching the first island on the 33rd day, and other islands after that. At the time he thought he was in the (East) Indies, thus describing the native inhabitants he had encountered as ‘Indians’. In fact, he was describing Caribbean islands now known as San Salvador Island in the Bahamas, as well as Cuba, Haiti and the Dominican Republic; and the mainland he heard rumours about from the natives was not Cathay (China) but the Americas.

  Shortly after Columbus arrived back in Spain, a printed version of the letter in Spanish appeared in Barcelona. A month after that, a Latin translation of a nearly identical version appeared in Rome and was widely distributed by the Church. The document announced, ‘I discovered many islands inhabited by numerous people. I took possession of all of them for our most fortunate King by making public proclamation and unfurling his standard, no one making any resistance.’ His letter also provided observations about the natives’ vulnerability to conquest, saying ‘they are destitute of arms, which are entirely unknown to them, and for which they are not adapted; not on account of any bodily deformity, for they are well made, but because they are timid and full of terror.’ The explorer brought back several of the Indians as prisoners (only eight of 25 survived the trip) to demonstrate what such strange peoples were like.

  Columbus depicted the New World as a paradise of exotic creatures and abundant fruits, spices and gold, gushing that the rich territory was Spain’s for the taking and its inhabitants could be easily conquered, enslaved and converted to the Christian faith. His initial account was so enticing that the Crown quickly outfitted him for a return voyage with a massive fleet that departed on 24 September 1493. He made two more return voyages after that.

  Since no original handwritten copy of Columbus’s letter has ever been found, historians have relied on the multiple printed versions of the 1493 document to help them reconstruct his great discovery.

  One of the printed versions of Columbus’s letter, published in 1493. Columbus’s ‘Oceanic Classis’ (ocean fleet) is depicted in the opening woodcut print. RIGHT: Cartographer Juan de la Cosa accompanied Columbus on his voyage of 1492–93. He produced this remarkable map of the New World in 1500.

  Petrucci’s use of movable type gave us the first mass-produced musical score. Printed sheet music was clean, legible and elegant, but it was not easy to produce. It needed three passes through the printing press to include the staves, notes and words.

  Petrucci’s Harmonice Musices Odhecaton A

  (1501)

  A pioneering Renaissance printer introduces movable type to print the score of complex polyphonic songs, thereby preserving the main international repertoire of his day. His finest collection is a triumph in art and technology.

  Ottaviano Petrucci (1466–1539) is remembered for his inventions in fine music printing using movable type. Born and raised in Fossombrone, Petrucci went to Venice to learn the art of printing at the height of the Italian Renaissance. A few years later he petitioned the Venetian Senate for the privilege to market a valuable new invention, saying he had devised a way to print ‘canto figurato’ using movable type – something that ‘many, not only in Italy but also outside of Italy, have long attempted in vain.’ His efforts bore fruit, for in 1498 he obtained the exclusive 20-year licence to print and sell such music throughout the republic.

  Three years later, Petrucci published a magnificent collection of music, mostly Flemish chansons that had been written by leading composers of the time, which he titled Harmonice Musices Odhecaton A. The anthology included 96 secular and polyphonic songs for three or four voice parts, written in strict fixed forms.

  To capture the extraordinarily complex polyphonic sounds of his day, the pioneer had devised an ingenious but demanding technique requiring two separate printing impressions using metal movable type – one for the staves and one for the notes placed on them. When lyrics were involved, each sheet was actually printed three times – for the staves, the music and the words – all coordinated on the same page. His innovative layout displayed two parts on the right-hand side of a page, and two parts on the left, thereby enabling four singers or instrumentalists to follow the same music sheet during their performance.

  Besides showing great technological prowess, his work turned the publication of the most complex music into fine art. His printing was magnificently executed with exquisite typefaces and other fine features, although occasionally the impressions were not perfectly coordinated, resulting in a jumbled display that caused havoc with the musicians. Nevertheless, Petrucci managed to turn the mass production of his art form into a commercially successful business – so much so that he later had to compete with rivals.

  The first edition of the Odhecaton, carrying a dedication date of 15 May 1501, has not survived in its entirety. But the second and third editions of 1503 and 1504 remain. Without it, today’s listeners would not be familiar with the music of Petrucci’s period.

  This woodcut from Silvestro Ganassi’s musical instruction book of 1535 shows a group of recorder players using printed sheet music.

  Martin Luther’s 95 Theses

  (1517)

  An Augustinian monk posts a document containing 95 criticisms of the practices of the Catholic Church on a church in Saxony – thereby unintentionally providing the catalyst for a series of world-changing events that will become known as Europe’s Protestant Reformation.

  Born to prosperous parents in Eisleben, Saxony (now Germany), which was part of the Holy Roman Empire, Martin Luther (1483–1546) grew up to be a pious but little-known Augustinian monk and scholar. But he was about to become a major figure in world history as a result of a provocative document he had composed.

  On 31 October 1517, Luther used a hammer and nail to post a paper on the side door of the Castle Church of Wittenberg, to alert the parish. Penned in Latin as Disputatio pro declaratione virtutis indulgentiarum (‘95 Theses on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences’), his offering was intended to prompt discussion within the Church. But it struck a nerve.

  ‘Out of love for the truth and from desire to elucidate it,’ he began, ‘the Reverend Father Martin Luther, Master of Arts and Sacred Theology, and ordinary lecturer therein at Wittenberg, intends to defend the following statements and to dispute on them in that place. Therefore he asks that those who cannot be present and dispute with him orally shall do so in their absence by letter.’ Then Luther proceeded to list his 95 theses, one by one. ‘1. When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said, “Repent” (Mt 4:17), he willed the entire life of believers to be one of repentance…’

  The litany attacked officials at all levels of the Catholic Church, alleging a stew of clerical corruption and abuses that included nepotism, usury and the sale of indulgences (defined by the Church as ‘remissions of temporal punishment, especially purgatorial atonement, due for sins after absolution’). It also questioned some core Catholic practices and beliefs.

  Luther sent copies of his thesis to his bishop and the archbishop who was in charge of the indulgence sales. The fact that many Church officials had resorted to selling indulgences as a means of obtaining financial support made it a touchy subject for anyone to raise, even indirectly. Luther brazenly alleged that the practice violated the original intention of confession and penance, and rattled off other embarrassing criticisms as wel
l.

  Within a few months his diatribe was being translated into a number of languages and circulated across Europe. Luther’s document sparked the schism within Western Christianity that became known as the Protestant Reformation, and Luther and other Christian reformers who were protesting Catholic orthodoxy became known as Protestants.

  Although the original manuscript posted on the door has not survived, two broadside editions of the 95 Theses document – one printed in Nuremberg, the other in Leipzig – remain preserved. There is also a copy of a seven-page quarto edition at Harvard College Library.

  This ‘tabloid’ report issued shortly after the Diet of Worms shows a seated Charles V with Johann Eck on the left and Luther on the right. Luther’s books are in the centre.

  Edict of Worms

  (1521)

  The Holy Roman Emperor Charles V issues a decree at Worms in Germany, labelling the Church critic Martin Luther as a heretic and banning his writings. But the document has the opposite effect, elevating the dissident’s stature within the growing Protestant Reformation.

  After Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses, Pope Leo X initially thought the fracas would blow over, but in June 1520 his advisors convinced him to publicly denounce the defiant monk. The papal bull Exsurge Domine (‘Arise, O Lord’) attacked Luther for 41 specific ‘errors’ and threatened to excommunicate him unless he recanted within 60 days. Pope Leo also had some of Luther’s problematic writings publicly burned.

  But Luther refused to comply and instead issued his own polemical tracts attacking the papacy; then he publicly torched a copy of the bull – acts of rebellion that were unprecedented in Church history.

  For this he was subsequently summoned to appear before an imperial diet (formal deliberative assembly) that was called to examine the matter. The Diet of Worms was held at the Heylshof Garden, with Emperor Charles V presiding.

  After Luther stated his views, the emperor’s agent, Johann Eck, called him a heretic and private conferences were started to determine Luther’s fate. But before a decision had been reached, and knowing he faced likely conviction and execution, Luther absconded.

  On 25 May 1521, Emperor Charles V issued a formal decree, known as the Edict of Worms, in which he labelled Luther a ‘reviver of the old and condemned heresies’ and an ‘inventor of new ones’. The document ordered Luther’s books burned and his property confiscated. It severed him from the Church, called for his arrest and forbade anyone from harbouring or sustaining the fugitive. Anyone who failed to obey or opposed the decree in any way, it said, ‘will be guilty of the crime of lese majeste and will incur our grave indignation as well as each of the punishments mentioned above.’

  Luther, however, continued to flaunt the pope’s authority and get away with it. After spending some time in hiding, he returned to Wittenberg where he devoted himself to building a new church based on his reformist ideas. He also married a nun and the couple had six children.

  Luther’s church became the leading faith in his region and its popularity spread. Consequently, the secular authorities concluded that it would not be wise to attempt to enforce the Edict of Worms. Lutheranism continued to spread throughout northern Europe and planted the seeds of dissent for Calvinism and other varieties of Protestantism.

  Martin Luther died in 1546 and was buried beneath the pulpit of the church where he had posted his famous document, the 95 Theses.

  The title page of the Edict of Worms. This formal notice called for the excommunication of Luther from the Catholic Church. It stripped him of the right to a fair trial and prohibited the dissemination of his teachings.

  Journal of Magellan’s Voyage

  (1522–25)

  A scholarly shipmate of Ferdinand Magellan documents the events of their epic around-the-globe voyage that have cost the explorer his life and changed the course of world history. Of the 237 mariners who embarked, only 18 have survived the three-year ordeal.

  Ferdinand Magellan (1480–1521) was a Portuguese-born explorer sailing at the service of Spain by order of King Charles I on a major expedition to the Indies. A total of 237 men set out from Seville in five vessels in August 1519. Although most of the crew were Spaniards, their ranks also included a mixture of Portuguese, Italians, Greeks and Frenchmen, as well as different classes. Among those closest to Magellan were his brother-in-law, his indentured servant and Antonio Pigafetta (1490/91–1534), a Venetian scholar who would serve as Magellan’s assistant and act as the explorer’s liaison to the natives when they established first contact. He was also the official chronicler of the expedition.

  Pigafetta had kept a meticulous daily journal of the voyage around the world in 1519–22, recording their discoveries and hardships in rich detail. Although Magellan would end up being largely credited for leading the first successful voyage to circumnavigate the globe, he had been slain in combat with natives in the Philippines midway through the odyssey – an event that Pigafetta recounts with deep sadness, ending with the passage, ‘they killed our mirror, our light, our comfort, and our true guide.’

  After the commander’s death it fell to Juan Sebastián Elcano to captain the rest of their exploration, which he managed to do. Only 7 per cent of the voyagers would survive the nightmare of fear, hunger, disease, storms, warfare, mutiny and homicide. A feeble Elcano and his skeleton crew, including Pigafetta, arrived back in Seville on the only remaining vessel almost exactly three years after they had started.

  Many historians consider Magellan’s expedition the greatest in history. It was the first to reach Asia by sailing westward from Europe – achieving what Columbus had failed to do in 1492 – and was the first voyage to circumnavigate the globe, covering an astonishing 43,400 miles under rough conditions in what was probably the greatest feat of seamanship in history.

  Although the original log was later lost, Pigafetta’s extraordinary account, which he wrote between 1522 and 1525, has survived in four manuscript versions. The finest copy, written in French in numbered chapters and richly illustrated with beautiful maps, is held in the Beinecke Library of Yale University. Remarkably, the Journal of Magellan’s First Voyage around the World was not published in its entirety until the late 18th century. Pigafetta’s straightforward and readable narrative includes fascinating descriptions of some of the places and cultures the explorers encountered around the globe. Little is known about his own fate after he penned the document.

  A page from the Beinecke Library manuscript version of Pigafetta’s log. Pigafetta’s chronicle of Magellan’s voyage around the world included 23 maps. This one shows the southern tip of South America and the eponymous Strait of Magellan, which was discovered on their expedition.

  Bartolomé de las Casas’s ‘Statement of Opinion’ was sent to Charles V in 1542. In this document, Las Casas questioned Spanish policies to the ‘Indians of the New World’, including conquest, conversion, servitude and slavery.

  Destruction of the Indies

  (1542)

  A conquistador undergoes a change of heart regarding his nation’s brutal colonial policies in the Americas. His documentation of Spanish genocide and enslavement of the indigenous peoples helps to prevent the Indians’ extinction but contributes to another atrocity: the rise of the African slave trade.

  Bartolomé de las Casas (1484–1566) was a Spanish-born colonist who immigrated to Hispaniola (now the Dominican Republic and Haiti) in 1502. His father Pedro had sailed with Columbus. The son participated in slave raids and slaughters against the native peoples there and in other parts of the West Indies. But he became appalled by many of the atrocities he had witnessed and later confessed, ‘I saw here cruelty on a scale no living being has ever seen or expects to see.’

  By 1515, Las Casas had become so convinced that Spain’s actions in the New World were illegal and unjust, that he began to openly criticize the encomienda system that legitimized such treatment. He became a Dominican friar in 1523 and began documenting acts of horrific mistreatment of the Indians, based on event
s he had witnessed firsthand, and then took his litany to Spain to make a direct appeal before the Holy Roman Emperor and King, Charles V.

  In the official proceedings held in 1542, Las Casas presented his passionate eyewitness narrative of the abuses along with sweeping proposals for radical reform. ‘It is my fervent hope,’ he wrote, ‘that, once Your Highness perceives the extent of the injustices suffered by these innocent peoples and the way in which they are being destroyed and crushed underfoot, unjustly and for no other reason than to satisfy the greed and ambition of those whose purpose it is to commit such wicked atrocities, Your Highness will see fit to beg and entreat His Majesty to refuse all those who seek royal licence for such evil and detestable ventures.’

  His pleas were so effective that on 20 November 1542, the Emperor signed a series of measures known as the New Laws, which forbade all taking of Indians as slaves, set in motion the gradual abolition of the encomienda system and exempted the few surviving Indians of Hispaniola, Cuba, Puerto Rico and Jamaica from compulsory servitude. The Emperor also removed certain oppressive colonial officials. But the reforms were met by intense resistance among the slaveholders back in the New World.

  Published in Seville in 1552 by Sebastian Trugillo, A Short Account of the Destruction of the Indies broke new ground in exposing Spain’s hideous treatment of native peoples during the early stages of conquest. The impassioned firsthand account was widely translated and republished by Spain’s adversaries and rivals. Although some critics have blamed Las Casas for contributing to the African slave trade – he had once advocated the use of African slaves instead of West Indian natives – he eventually spoke out against that practice as well. Today he has become widely regarded as an early opponent of slavery and one of the founding fathers of universal human rights.