A few thoughts on Restall’s “Seven Myths”

As a rule, I avoid using the word “fun” as an adjective, but Matthew Restall’s Seven Myths of the Spanish Conquest stikes me as a wothwhile exception. It is, indeed, a fun read, the sort of book one can read without a pencil, under a tree (assuming people ever do that anymore).  Restall’s style is clear and straightforward, and the sheer amount of detail contained in this brief volume only reinforces, in my mind, what I am coming to accept as a truism–that the writing of a short book takes more skill than a lengthy one. This, combined with Restall’s thorough knowledge of the historical period as well as treasure-trove of secondary literature (including authors I would not normally expect to encounter in an academic volume, such as Nobel Laureate Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clezio) allows the book a usefulness in a variety of classroom settings. (More on that at the end.)

As the title suggests, Restall’s approach is thematic, which not only works well for deconstructing the various myths of the Conquest, but also, in one or two instances–I might as well be honest–reminding the reader what those myths were in the first place. (I am thinking, specifically, of chapters 5 and 6.) For example, while I was aware that the Aztecs (Mexica? Is one term more apropriate than the other? Restall never says.) did not consider the Spaniards to be gods, and that the majority of conquerors were not “soldiers” in the nation-state sense of the word, I was surprised at the sheer number of natives who assisted the Spaniards, and had been unaware of the exact role  played by the Spanish monarchy in the transatlantic voyages.

Two petty comments: One, I was mildly pleased with Restall’s obvious scorn for the accrued myths surrounding the figure of Christopher Columbus, the inteligent navigator and, apparently, compulsive liar. While Restall makes it clear that attempting to discern Colubus’s “true” motives is a risky endeavor, he at least introduces the question: Did Columbus really die believing he had found the East Indies, or did he stubbornly cling to his story in theface is overwhelming evidence to the contrary? Second, I must say it was refreshing to see a scholar of the Conquest criticize portions of Jared Diamond’s mega-bestselling Guns, Germs, and Steel for uncritically accepting various myths of the Conquest as  fact, and then incorporating them into his thesis.

More important, however, is the fact that Restall’s work makes one think about larger issues, which is all I ask of any book. In particular, he mentions that the term “Conquest” itself implies, at least implicitly, that the Native Americans were, from the moment of first contact, on the side of a losing proposition. Phrased another way, “the Spanish Conquest,” rather than “Spanish-Aztec War,” perhaps unwittingly leads us to read history in retrospect, rather than in prospect. Restall reminds us that the Spanish landfall on Mexican soil did not lead, inevitably, to the Spanish Conquest of Mexico. Another example is Restall’s emphasis on the conquerors’ phrasing of the Maya “rebellion” of the 1540s, when the Conquest was by no means complete. By claiming the Conquest complete, and successful, the Spaniards could claim the Maya were engaged not in a war to maintain their independence, but in an illegal revolt against the legal government. In short, how we define people–or a people–dictates how we treat them.

I must say, I find the question of when, exactly, the Conquest ended to be of particular fascination. Was it the moment when Cortes died, or when, in the early nineteenth century, the Latin American Republics fought for and achieved their independence from Spain? Restall, wisely I think, offers no answers of his own, but allows the questions tostand as fodder for further thought. I must say, as one whose primary focus of study is the political and diplomatic history of the United States in the early nineteenth century, I found Restall’s suggestion (on page 72) that the bloody Seminole War in Spanish Florida was a direct continuation of the Conquest to be one of the more eye-opening sentences I have read in a while, one that, I hope, will enable me to more effectively examine, and teach, both American and world history.

To that end, I see Restall’s work as essential reading on this topic of the Conquest, one that deserves to be read and reread. As I have yet to encounter a world history textbook I like, and yet I see the urgent need for well-crafted world history courses for undergraduate surveys, I believe Seven Myths of the Spanish Conquest will make an excellent, (and, frankly, low-cost) alternative.