by Hugh Thomas
Both Fray Bartolomé and Fray Reginaldo were present on December 11 at a meeting with the members of the Council of the Realm who had concerned themselves with the Indies. Fonseca, Zapata, Conchillos, and Galíndez de Carvajal were all present. The two friends of the Indians presented a memorandum whose main point was a repetition of the declaration that the “Indians are free,” as stated at Valladolid in 1513.3 Their suggestion was that La Española and other Spanish colonies should be reconstituted with Indian villages of at least ten Christian (Spanish) families and sixty Indians. The Spanish territory in the Indies would be divided into provinces, and two “visitors” and a constable (alguacil) would visit each town once a year. Slaves, whether Indian or black, would be treated well. They could marry if the idea had the approval of their masters.
These proposals were the fruit of a collaboration between Fray Reginaldo de Montesinos and Las Casas, both perhaps being influenced by what they had heard of Thomas More, whose Utopia, published in Louvain the previous year, might have been known, in Latin, in the library of San Gregorio in Valladolid.4 Or were they perhaps impressed by Plato, who had influenced More? At all events, we see here a “Utopian” scheme for the development of the Spanish New World put forward in heroic terms by eloquent clerics.5
These exchanges did not result in much, however. As Las Casas reported, “The King was so new and had committed the entire government of the two realms of Castile and Aragon to Flemings, who knew neither who was important in Spain nor who was unimportant, and confided in nobody for fear they might be deceived by false information; and so, many of the activities of the state were suspended, particularly those relating to the Indies, which were further away and less well known.”6
By December 1517, the administration of the Indies had been taken by Chièvres from Fonseca and placed in the hands of the Chancellor of the Duchy of Burgundy, Jean Le Sauvage. Chièvres was a clever man. Some sixth sense seems to have told him that Fonseca’s judgments were often narrow and self-interested.
Le Sauvage came from a family of the lesser nobility dependent on Chièvres. He was indeed the executor of the latter’s pro-French policies.7 He had limitations: the late Professor Giménez Fernández considered him “the archetype of the modern state functionary, the blind assistant of absolute state control who, with his formal personal probity, was much more dangerous to society than old-fashioned prevaricating individuals of lesser quality.”8 Las Casas, however, regarded him as “a most excellent man, very prudent, most capable in all negotiations and of great authority and personality, whom we could imagine a Roman senator”—that last comparison being the highest of all praise for Las Casas.9 Las Casas and Fray Reginaldo certainly welcomed him and sent him many letters in Latin.
The first document the receptive Le Sauvage received about the Indies, after reading the memorandum of Montesinos and Las Casas at the end of December 1517, was an “opinion” of the settlers that was probably written by Gil González Dávila, the ex-treasurer of La Española, but signed by various “indianos”—the word would soon be in use for someone who made money in the Indies and returned home—who happened to be in Spain at the time.10
The theme of this document was that “Indians have no natural capacity to live on their own.”11 But the only people who mistreated Indians were common or rustic people (from Spain) who had no virtue. If the King wanted to change the way that the Indians were managed, the costs would outweigh the benefits.12
Four things, the indianos said, had caused the fall in the population of Indians in La Española: first, the constant changes of governors; second, the moving of Indians from one place to another; third, the lawsuits between settlers; and fourth, the rumor that there was more gold in the Indies than was really the case. That had had the consequence of attracting too many white Spaniards to La Española. One solution might be that “many blacks should come or be allowed to come from Castile.”13 It will be seen how this idea was being gradually insinuated into Castilian public policy.
This “opinion” also seems to refer to what would become New Spain, or “Mexico”: “If your Highness permits the islands which today are settled to be depopulated, it would be a great loss because, as a result of new adventures, other islands and lands much richer and better than those that have already been found will be discovered.”14
This was an allusion to the first expedition from Cuba to Yucatan, that of Francisco Hernández de Córdoba, who had returned via Florida to Cuba in the spring of 1517.15 Hernández de Córdoba was mortally wounded in a skirmish with Maya Indians, but he had seen interesting things, including the most interesting of all: golden jewels.16
The next year, Juan de Grijalva, a nephew of the Governor, Diego Velázquez, who some months before had accompanied Juan Bono de Quejo to the island of Trinidad in pursuit of slaves, left Cuba on a second expedition of four ships.17 Grijalva had two hundred men altogether. They were away for only a few months, until June, when one of the captains, the magnetic Pedro de Alvarado, sailed home to Cuba. In the end, Grijalva himself decided to return there.18 This journey is described in chapter 34, but it is as well to appreciate that these expeditions were being undertaken in 1518, King Charles’s first year in Spain.
In February 1518, when Grijalva was preparing his journey, Charles’s majordomo, Laurent de Gorrevod, was encouraged by some Spaniards (such as Francisco de Lizaur, who had become an adviser on the Indies to another courtier, Charles de Laxao) to ask the King a favor. This was to grant him a monopoly of trade to the new land just discovered by Hernández de Córdoba, that is, Yucatan, which he wanted to colonize with Flemings.19
It was not to be. The King would probably have liked to have given Gorrevod this opportunity—he was a firm friend of Charles’s family—but a concession of that kind of new land of unknown size and wealth was excessive. It was not the last time, however, that Gorrevod sought to enter the Spanish market. Those who see his family’s fifteenth-century mansion at Bourg-en-Bresse must stand astonished at the range of his activities. Gorrevod had been a friend of the Archduchess Margaret since her happy time as wife of Duke Philibert of Savoy, for whom he had been chief steward. She had already inspired a Gothic church to be built in flamboyant style, comparable to many Flemish churches, with a Burgundian roof, at Brou, outside Bourg, in the Bresse, which had been part of her dowry. She administered the duchy from Malines to commemorate her happy marriage, and Gorrevod, as governor of the province, was helping her with money as well as with local support. Beautiful marble and alabaster tombs for herself, her husband, and her mother-in-law had been commissioned from the Fleming Jean Perréal and the German Konrad Meit, who had also recently sculpted a famous head of Charles himself. Next to the new church would stand an Augustinian monastery. Gorrevod’s brother, Louis, had also been named by Margaret as first (and only) bishop of Bourg.20 Gorrevod would have his own chapel and tomb in the church. A stained-glass window dedicated to St. Thomas—in which we can see the successful impresario on his knees—commemorates him and his two wives there, but his tomb was destroyed in the French Revolution by ignorant radicals who probably had no idea who Gorrevod was. In 1518 he wrote regularly to Margaret to tell her what he had seen and done. His description of the clothes worn by the noblemen at Charles’s proclamation at Valladolid would have delighted any fashion writer.21
Others who engaged in intense discussion about the Indies, from about January 1518, included Zapata, Adrian, and Fonseca, all of whom, as well as Le Sauvage, signed an order to the officials of the Casa de Contratación not to allow anyone to go to the Indies until “I [that is, the King] write to tell you what you have to do.” In consequence of the many conflicting opinions as to what indeed had to be done, Le Sauvage asked Juan de Samano, one of the secretaries who had worked with Conchillos (and who had naturally received some petty sinecures in Cuba) to summarize all the different points of view, which he did. For this purpose, Las Casas wrote another memorandum, saying: “Nothing is killing the Indians except melancholy, w
hich derives from seeing themselves in such servitude and captivity, and the bad treatment that they suffer, including the seizing of their women and children, and their being made to overwork, with food not as plentiful as is necessary.”22 Las Casas said that every year seven or eight thousand Indians were kidnapped on the mainland or in the Bahamas and carried off to La Española. He was never accurate with figures, as we know, but he did add, “Their highnesses ought to give generous licenses to settlers to carry there as many black slaves as each settler wants.”23 That Las Casas’s ideas were even considered by Le Sauvage infuriated the indianos in Valladolid. They wrote a joint “memorial” attacking Las Casas as an indiscreet person. But it will be noticed that even he was toying with the idea of African slavery.
Then there was an opinion from Bishop Fonseca.24 He bluntly opposed the idea of liberty for Indians. Like López de Recalde in the Casa de Contratación, Fonseca thought that a single commissar should be appointed to rule the new Spanish possessions. He agreed that “the Indians belonging to the Crown, to Fonseca himself, to Diego Colón and the judges should be given up.”25 But those who had been allocated encomiendas should be allowed to keep them. The slave trade in Indians from other islands and the mainland, the Bishop thought, should be maintained and legalized.
The priors were in communication, too. On January 18, 1518, after they had been in Santo Domingo just over a year, they wrote that they were still trying to settle the Indians in towns between four and five hundred strong, with instructions that they should plant their own crops and manage their livestock (a new departure), with permission renewed for both hunting and fishing. The priors added that they had encouraged the building of three new sugar mills, and concluded with yet another request that the new King “send us a facility to go and seek black slaves direct from the Cape Verde Islands and the coast of Guinea.”26 Could not the boats that were then going to the Gulf of Paria for slaves go on to Guinea? The request does not suggest much maritime knowledge on the part of the priors, since that journey would have been against the wind. Yet it shows again how the idea of importing slaves from Africa was growing.
Not only the priors were writing from the Indies: the Segoviano judge of the residencia, Alonso Zuazo, told the King on January 22, 1518, that the condition of the natives when he had arrived a year before had resembled that of “a man on his deathbed who was abandoned by doctors, and a candle placed in his hand.” Zuazo urged that married couples be asked to come from Spain so that they could develop a real love of the land: “At present, two out of three conquistadors are without their wives [if they had them], and so have no real home here.” Farms should be founded to take the place of depopulated mining districts. Unlimited immigration should be allowed, with the proviso only that the people concerned should be Christians. Zuazo wanted the commerce of the Indies to be open to all who wanted to participate. His description of La Española gave the impression that the place was potentially a paradise, capable of producing sugar, cotton, cassia pods, Oriental peppers, and wild cinnamon. But a reliable labor force was obviously needed. All the troubles of La Española were, in Zuazo’s view, due to the avarice of the colonists. He wanted the return of Diego Colón to the governorship and the dismissal of all the other officials who were there, especially Miguel de Pasamonte, whom he thought venal.
The soil in La Española, he added, was the best in the world; there was neither cold nor too much heat—nothing, indeed, to complain of. Everything was green, and everything grew.27 “Christ, in the great Augustan peace,” continued Zuazo, “came to redeem the old world.” The judge continued a little unctuously that there was something similar in the coming of King Charles to redeem the New World.
Zuazo, like the priors and Las Casas, was also beginning to think that the solution to the shortage of labor in the Caribbean was the import of Africans. La Española, he insisted, was “the best place in the world for blacks: “la mejor tierra que ay en el mundo para los negros.” His main recommendation was that a general license should be given for the “import of blacks, ideal people for the work here, in contrast to the natives who are so feeble that they are only suitable for light work, such as looking after plots of land or plantations.”
It was foolish, Zuazo added, to suppose that if brought to the Caribbean, “these blacks would revolt; after all, there is a widow in the isles belonging to Portugal [Madeira or the Azores] who has eight hundred [African] slaves. Everything depends on how they are managed. I found on coming here that there were some robber blacks and that others had fled to the mountains. I whipped some, cut off the ears of others, and, in consequence, there are no more complaints.” Zuazo added that already near Santo Domingo there were excellent plantations of sugarcane. Some grew cane as thick as the wrist of a man. How wonderful it would be if large factories for making sugar could be built!28
He reported, too, that of the fifteen thousand Indians taken to La Española as slaves from the Bahamas over the years, thirteen thousand had died. One of the evils was that under the guise of making discoveries, expeditions were often armed to go to the mainland to capture slaves. Zuazo reported that he had called a meeting of the procuradores of the island so that all could discuss the problems. The so-called Cortes of La Española would continue until April.
Chièvres, weary of hearing all these conflicting views, sought out Las Casas in Valladolid and asked him to dine. The Flemings, it seems, liked doing business over meals.29 Las Casas was received amiably. There were several other advisers present. Las Casas told Laurent de Gorrevod that to obtain the contract he wanted in Yucatan, it would be best to talk to Diego de Velázquez, the Governor of Cuba, who had his eye on the mainland. He spoke expansively of what seemed to have been recently discovered—by Hernández de Córdoba and Grijalva—and Gorrevod declared himself well pleased; and, sure enough, within a few months there arrived at Sanlúcar de Barrameda, at the mouth of the Guadalquivir River, ships sent by Gorrevod, full of working men from Flanders ready to populate the “territory of Yucatan”30—an improbable assignment since Yucatan had not yet even been explored, much less conquered. Those who spoke of it thought it an island.
Diego Colón heard of the proposed grant of Yucatan to Gorrevod and said that no one could receive such a thing since he himself possessed, through his father, all the rights. Fearing prolonged litigation, the King suspended the idea of so helping his Savoyard friend and began to consider an alternative benefit for him.
Francisco de los Cobos had been appointed to succeed Conchillos as Secretary of the Indies. Conchillos himself seems to have approved: he wrote from Toledo on April 5, 1518, to the Council of the Realm resigning his post on the ground of “certain ailments” that have come upon him “in the service of the Crown.” He suggested that his successor should be Cobos, who “knows better than any other secretary what is best for the Indies and the policy that should be followed. I humbly beg your Majesty that, in my place, you entrust this office to the aforesaid secretary.…”31
Cobos, then in his late thirties, came from Úbeda, a city that his own subsequent wealth later embellished. Francisco obtained his entrée into the court through his aunt Mayor’s husband, Diego Vela Alide, an accountant of Queen Isabel. Hernando de Zafra gave him various appointments, such as that of royal notary at Perpignan. Then he succeeded Zafra as accountant at Granada in 1510, though that did not mean he left the court. On the contrary, it became his task to record all payments, grants, and rewards of the King. He began to sign the Crown’s documents in 1515, and then worked for Conchillos, who used him as an intermediary in difficult negotiations. His income was already 65,000 maravedís a year. He was named notary of the bedchamber in 1515. In 1516, he made an excuse to go to Brussels and remained there throughout Cisneros’s regency. It was a sagacious move. Ugo de Urríes, one of the secretaries of the Council of Aragon, introduced him to the all-important Chièvres, who immediately took to him and for whom he began to work—against Cisneros, although the Cardinal did not seem to realize t
hat. Chièvres liked Cobos because he was good-looking and seemed easygoing and bonhomous, but was hardworking and meticulous. As important, he could never be a rival to Chièvres, for he was far from being an intellectual. He did not know Latin and never so much as mentions Erasmus in the many letters of his that survive. He was also among the few Spanish civil servants in Brussels who had no converso blood.
In early 1517, Chièvres made Cobos secretary to the King at an annual salary of 278,000 maravedís, considerably more than the other secretaries. Charles told Cisneros that he had appointed Cobos “to take and keep a record of our income and finances, and of what is paid out and consigned to our treasurers and other persons, so that all is done in conformity with the rules that you have yourself established and discussed.”32
Las Casas described Cobos as “surpassing all the other secretaries because Monsieur de Chièvres became fonder of him than of the others, because in truth he was more gifted than they, and he was also very attractive in face and figure.”33 López de Gómara said of him that though he “was diligent and secretive … he was also very fond of playing primera [a perverse card game in which the cards had values that bore no relation to their own declared significance].”34 He greatly liked talking to women and indeed everything to do with them, though the names of his loves do not seem to have come down to us. Everyone said that he was charming but prudent. He never gossiped. His control of the royal bureaucracy in respect of the Indies flourished for twenty-five years.
Early in February, Charles’s first Cortes met at Valladolid. The King asked his chancellor, Jean Le Sauvage, to preside, supported by Bishop Ruiz de la Mota. Juan Zumel, the procurador of Burgos, protested. He denounced the presence of foreigners, especially Le Sauvage as president, and he became for a week or two a national hero—if a questionable one, since he was the creature of the Constable of Castile, Íñigo Fernández de Velasco, Duke of Frías, who dominated Burgos. After that, Le Sauvage did not appear and Ruiz de la Mota, who originated in the same city, presided, assisted by García de Padilla, a member of the Council of the Realm who had been a protégé of the late King Fernando and who, like so many others, had emigrated to Flanders after the death of that monarch, “in order to secure the permanence of his job.”35