Indigenous Views of the Conquest

Mesoamerican Voices: Native-Language Writings from Colonial Mexico, Oaxaca, Yucatan, and Guatemala, edited by Matthew Restall, Lisa Sousa, and Kevin Terraciano (all students of the august James Lockhart) presents a complicated, nuanced, deeply fascinating version of the Spanish conquest and the subsequent colonial period. Restall, Sousa, and Terraciano’s careful translation and invaluable contextualizing of the sources turns up the volume on Mesoamerican voices that can be very hard—if almost impossible—to hear in the Spanish sources.

The book begins with a brief note on method. The editors express gratefulness to James Lockhart (xi), and discuss their method of translation and the ordering of the book. They translate idiom not literally, but with attention to capturing its meaning. They translate Spanish loanwords, except when they “represent a significant introduction to the material culture or conceptual vocabulary of the period” (xii). But, they leave the Nahuatl word altepetl untranslated, and their explanation of why reveals the orientation of the book: “we prefer to retain the original word in the translation and thereby challenge the reader to learn an important indigenous concept” (xii).

The introductory materials in the volume are nothing short of excellent. They ensure that readers understand the localized nature of Mesoamerican identity, and how this influences the course of the conquest. Localized identity is a key theme running through the documents, and it is difficult to overestimate its influence on the course of the conquest and New Spain. In the Annals of Tlatelolco localized identity takes the form of obvious bitterness and rivalry toward the Mexica (43). Similarly, the Florentine Codex notes that no one was sorry to see Moctezuma’s funeral pyre (37); there is no solidarity at the loss of an indigenous leader.

The influence of Lockhart on his students is clear. For example, though the authors do not use the Lockhart’s phrase “double mistaken identity,” the idea shines through. The authors write of Christianity, “despite shared features and possibilities for identification between native religions and Christianity, even if native parishioners wanted to accept the new system, they were likely to misunderstand it or interpret many introductions in terms of deeply rooted cultural beliefs or ideologies” (175). There is also a thoroughly Lockhartian analysis of documents such as wills and notarial records evident in the editors’ introductions to the documents.

Also apparent is the continuation of Restall’s myth-debunking. Restall’s “Myth of Desolation” and “Myth of Completion” stand out in high relief here (for more see Matthew Restall, Seven Myths). Indigenous communities continued to function much as they had before the conquest, despite new challenges like population decline resulting from disease. The indigenous cabildo minutes from Tlaxcala, extant from 1547-1567, highlight this. The Spanish required biannual elections of governors; the Tlaxcalans simply rotated the tlatoanis (indigenous rulers) from various parts of the altepetl (71, 73). The take-home point here is that the same families were ruling on a local level—there was a great deal of continuity with the past.

That is not to imply that change did not occur. Adaptations are revealed in the documents. For example, under Spanish influence in the colonial period, the tax structure changes from an indigenous one in which nobles paid more tribute to what may be called a flat tax, where everyone pays regardless of ability (129). Chimalpahin’s Diario, written from 1604-14, describes a Japanese diplomatic visit—and the indigenous author notes that some in the party are “idolators,” while others are baptized (153).

One thing which stands out in the mind of this reader is the way that indigenous people were able to use the justice system in New Spain. Defenses asserted in the colonial period reveal a sophisticated understanding and manipulation of Spanish ideas about justice. For example, one woman accused of adultery and attempted murder in 1581 defends her actions by saying, “the devil deceived me” (163). In a Mixtec murder note from 1684, a man says he killed his wife because he caught her with the local sacristan—he is mounting a traditional European affirmative defense: that he committed what a modern jurist would call a “crime of passion” (163). The Maya complain about priests who abuse their position and demand sexual favors from parishioners (168). Indigenous people can sue Spaniards, prosecute crimes against them, complain about mistreatment—and they DO.

Despite corruption, abuses, and structural equalities in the system, this seems like a vast improvement on indigenous North Americans’ experiences with colonial English law. In fact, it could be argued that the entire indigenous experience of Spanish conquest and colonization was an improvement over the English version. Restall has devoted his career to debunking the myths that surround this period of history—and in this book, you get the story “straight from the horse’s mouth,” so to speak. Who better to tell indigenous history than indigenous people?

On another note, Restall and Florine Asselberg’s Invading Guatemala takes down yet another myth—that Pedro Alvarado was the conqueror of Guatemala. Despite his self-presentation as such in letters to Hernán Cortés—and the crown and history’s acceptance of it—the conquest of Guatemala was bloody and protracted. It was not complete for decades.

To sum, so much of what we think we know about the Spanish conquest is shrouded in myth. But hearing indigenous views on the subject goes a long way toward clearing the mist.