Bartolome De Las Casas: An Account, Much Abbreviated, of the Destruction of the Indies
De Las Casas wants us to see the “Indian” population much like the liberals of today would like us to: meek, helpless, child-like, innocent, ignorant, animalistic. I think this speaks as much of prejudice as the Spaniards referring to the “natives” as dogs, but of course educated people don’t see it that way. And the good friar was a hypocrite in more ways than one: he lived for many years attended to by his personal slaves, all the while fighting for the “rights” of the natives, all the while playing master and thinking he was better than the other Spaniards because he treated his slaves well, like someone might their beloved pets.
One glaring falsity within this book that I can think of is De Las Casas’ account of Cortes’ expedition into Mexico (which of course De Las Casas himself wasn’t there to witness firsthand). Again, the “natives” – the Aztecs, in this case – are portrayed as nothing more than docile, peace-loving, childlike creatures. He mentions nothing of the warlike ways of the Aztecs, of their repeated attempts to wipe out the Spaniards, of their treachery, of their obsession with human sacrifice, of their cannibalism. Instead, we are lead to believe that the evil Cortes marched boldly into Mexico and butchered all the Aztecs and took over without hardly lifting a finger. And some events are pure fiction in themselves, bloody massacres and so forth that I’m sure any detractor of Cortes’ would have been more than happy to fabricate.
BartolomÃ?© de Las Casas, born in 1474, came to Cuba with Diego VelÃ?¡zquez’s expedition in 1511 as a soldier. In Cuba, he became an “encomendero”, receiving Indian labor parceled out to the conquistadors. The horrors of the conquest of the Caribbean sparked a religious conversion in him and he became a Dominican friar in 1515. Soon, he made his way to the Central American mainland, where he started missionary work among the Maya in Guatemala. Dubbed later “The Apostle to the Indians” for his work on their behalf, he was eventually appointed Bishop of Chiapas. An intimate friend of the Indians, fluent in their languages, Las Casas witnessed Spanish cruelties perpetrated against them between the very year of his arrival and some years before his death in Spain in 1566.
In 1552, Las Casas published his impassioned “Short Account” (actually written 13 years earlier), in which he laid bare Spanish cruelties in America. Though generally condemned as slander in Spain, the book rapidly became popular in the rest of Europe, where it served to fuel anti-Spanish hate. Spain’s enemies used it to depict Spaniards as evil tyrants and to rationalize carving out their own empires in the Americas. New editions appeared repeatedly, even as late as 1898, during the Spanish-American War.
Few credible historians take the “Account” for gospel truth. Much of what Las Casas says is certainly true. And while the rest is exaggerated, it is not “propaganda”. Whatever truth the narrative has, though, what I think many people miss when they read it is its importance in understanding the Spanish Black Legend.
The Black Legend is the perception of Spain as a uniquely cruel and bigoted nation in excess of reality. Spanish culture is boiled down to the Inquisition and the bullfight. Spain’s authors are ignored. The Spanish did nothing in the Americas but kill millions of Indians. This is the legacy of the 16th century. The substance of many European attitudes toward Spain up to about 1950 can be traced right to Las Casas’ “Account.” Appearing at the time when England and the Netherlands were emerging as major powers, grappling with Spain, the imagery from the book was woven right into their national mythologies. Because of historical circumstance, other nations that committed atrocities far worse than Spain’s – France, Britain, the United States – never had to undergo the same humiliating scrutiny, the same alienation. Las Casas’s book, certainly against its author’s will, helped shape this.
There are more reliable accounts of the “destruction of the West Indies”, including some by Las Casas. The account’s real value is the key it offers to understanding Western perceptions of Spain. Like so many anti-Spanish documents of its time, the book, in the end, can tell us as much about the fascinating figure of its author and the character of Spain’s enemies as about the horrors of the conquest and the nation it vilifies.