On Letters from Mexico, by Hernán Cortés
On Letters from Mexico, by Hernán Cortés
There’s a popular song from about five years ago that goes, “Hate is a strong word, but I really, really, really don’t like you.” Well, hate is a strong word, but I really, really, really don’t like Hernán Cortés. In fact, I think Bartolomé de las Casas summed up Cortes with one simple description: “that oppressor of men.”
But after reading Cortés’ letters, I am willing to give the devil his due. Not a great man—Matthew Restall was once again correct—but Cortés certainly was a master manipulator. A manipulator of people, and a manipulator of law.
At the very beginning of his second letter to Charles V of Spain, written in early 1519, Cortés says that Mexico is a “kingdom with no less glory than of Germany” (which Charles the V had recently come to rule as Holy Roman Emperor) (48). Basically Cortés is presenting Mexico as yet another jewel in the crown of Charles V. As to Moctezuma, Cortés “assured Your Highness that I would take him alive in chains or make him subject to Your Majesty’s Royal Crown” (50). Cortés always, always flatters the emperor. Which, of course, is mere ritual language, reflecting how anyone should address the sovereign. But Cortés goes beyond the cultural scripts—he somehow manages to finagle his renegade activities into becoming governor of New Spain.
Gold provides an excellent example of Cortés’ skill as a “spin doctor.” In the beginning of the first letter, Cortés describes Diego Velázquez as “moved more by cupidity than any other passion” because Velázquez was excited by rumors of gold (5). But when Cortés describes his own assimilation of Moctezuma’s treasure, it is different. “I asked him to give me something of what he possessed, for I wished to send it to your majesty … When all was melted down that could be, Your Majesty’s fifth came to more than 32,400 pesos de oro, exclusive of the gold and silver jewelry, and the featherwork and precious stones and many other valuable things which I designated for Your Holy Majesty. All these … are so marvelous that considering their novelty and strangeness they are priceless; nor can it be believed that any of the princes of this world, of whom we know, possess any things of such high quality?” (100). Others are possessed by cupidity, but Cortés is only thinking of the resplendence of His Majesty’s coffers—and offering to fill them with a treasure like none other.
Cortés also presents all of his actions as being perfectly justified, perfectly legal. For example, in the second letter, he defends attacking the people of Tepeaca. “I will say that only after we had made our demands for peace on Your Majesty’s behalf and they had not complied, we made war on them and they fought many times with us. With God’s help and the Royal fortune of Your Majesty we always routed them and killed many, without their killing or wounding a single Spaniard” (146). Cortés’ actions are always just and divinely sanctioned, it seems… But other Spaniards, like Diego Velazquez, may be wicked. In the third letter Cortés supposedly uncovers a plot to kill him by Velazquez and an Indian cacique. Cortés paints himself thus: “Velazquez’s men have since set me many traps and secretly caused many disturbances and quarrels against which I have found I have to be more on my guard than against the enemy. Our Lord God, however, has always guided us in such a manner that without punishing those men there is complete peace and tranquility; but if I hear of anything further I will punish them as justice demands” (278). Oh, the just and longsuffering conquistador… It’s disgusting, really.
Moving past all that, once again, I see the difficulty of communicating through interpreters and in unfamiliar cultures, as Matthew Restall highlights in Seven Myths. But where Díaz gives a touching portrait of Malintzín’s early life, being given from person to person to Cortes, Cortés downplays interpreters to the point where Malintzín is hardly described at all. He writes: “During the three days I remained in the city they fed us worse each day, and the lords and principal persons of the city came only rarely to see and speak with me. And being somewhat disturbed by this, my interpreter, who is an Indian woman from Putunchan … was told by another Indian woman and a native of this city that very close by many of Mutezuma’s men were gathered, and that the people of the city had sent away their women and that if she wished to escape she should go with her and she would shelter here” [emphasis added] (73).
On a positive note, however, reading Cortés gave me a whole new appreciation for Bernal Díaz del Castillo, who is, comparatively, the epitome of objectivity!
