Bernal Diaz del Castillo’s Discovery and Conquest of Mexico
Pondering Diaz del Castillo
Early in his chronicle of the Spanish conquest, Bernal Diaz del Castillo writes:
“At that moment, there sallied from another house, which was an oratory of their Idols, ten Indians clad in long white cotton cloaks, reaching to their feet, and with their long hair reeking with blood, and so matted together, that it could never be parted or even combed out again, unless it were cut. These were the priests of the Idols … and by signs they made us understand that we should quit their land before the firewood which they had piled up there should burn out, otherwise they would attack us and kill us” (10).
It is difficult to believe that Diaz del Castillo could possibly remember all of this 35 years later—especially such nitpicky quantitative details such as numbers of priests and the fiber content of their clothing. In the terrified heat of the moment, did he count them—all ten—and run his fingers through their hair to determine its resistance to a comb? Clearly this is poetic license.
This is the memory of a very old conquistador, written decades later, to vindicate himself, and as he admits, to give something to his children because he has nothing else to give them. But that is not to say that much cannot be gleaned from a careful reading of The Discovery and Conquest of Mexico. It relates a great deal about the Spanish mindset, perceptions, cultural biases, and the literary form of the probanza. As such, it perfectly illustrates the seven myths Matthew Restall talks about in his phenomenal book, Seven Myths of the Spanish Conquest.
Diaz de Castillo regales his reader with tales of Spanish bravery, heroism, pluck, ingenuity. He writes, “No one can appreciate the excessive hardships who has not passed through them as we did” (14), and “Let the curious reader consider whether there is not much to ponder over in this that I am writing. What men have there been in the world who have shown such daring?” (192). Diaz del Castillo does his very best to present himself and his comrades as the “great men” that history remembered for so long…
Another of the myths that Restall unpacks, the myth of miscommunication, is clear in Diaz’ account when one reads between the lines. Interpreters operate in murky middle ground between the two worlds, and it is clear that while there was communication, it was incomplete. One can easily see how Lockhart’s concept of Double Mistaken Identity would come into play. For instance, Diaz del Castillo describes an event early in the campaign when Aguilar began translating for Cortés: “Aguilar spoke to them … and asked them to …permit us to tell the Calachones things which would be to their advantage and to the service of God our Lord, but they still persisted in saying that if we advanced beyond the palm trees they would kill us” (48). Religious terms and concepts might be easily misread by both cultures, but the threat of violence was communicated clearly. Malintzin, the most famous interpreter of the conquest, (or Doña Marina as Diaz calls her) is a tragic figure—given away by her mother, traded amongst groups of Mesoamerican peoples, she finally is given to Cortés by the Tabasco people. She is an interesting literary figure here, often described with patronizing compliments, such as having “courage passing that of woman” (135). Other Indian women are similarly treated, several times being labeled “pretty for an Indian” or some such variation of the same.
Another interesting point of communication is that Diaz continually mentions giving the Indians green and blue beads. He does not discuss the significance of this color choice, but apparently the Spaniards had learned that beads of this color pleased the Indians and were a good bartering tool. Today, Mesoamerican archaeology has demonstrated that the color green and bluegreen especially had an important spiritual significance— they were associated with water and plants, the life force as it were, and beads of jadeite were even placed in the mouths of the dead (see Susan Toby Evans, Ancient Mexico and Central America: Archaeology and Culture History, 131).
Diaz del Castillo informs his readers in the beginning that Cortés’ standards and banners said “Comrades, let us follow the sign of the holy Cross with true faith, and through it we shall conquer” (33). He continues on this theme throughout the book. This is one thing which Diaz del Castillo seems convinced was always perfectly translated. According to Diaz, in each town Cortés “explained to them very clearly all thr matters concerning our holy faith” (180). An impossibility, to be sure …
Reading Diaz del Castillo, several myths stood out in high relief, but I kept being struck by the myths of “Great Men” and myths of “(Mis)Communication.” Having read Matthew Restall provided invaluable context, and allowed me to glean much more historical truth from Diaz del Castillo’s mythologized, probanza-esque account of the conquest.
