El Norte

by Carrie Gibson

  Columbus died in Spain in 1506, clinging until the end to the belief that he had found the east, and never acknowledging what he had discovered. Perhaps this helps explain how it was the name of the Florentine navigator Amerigo Vespucci that began to appear on European maps. Vespucci, who explored in the late 1490s, challenged Columbus’s claims. He also coined the phrase “New World” in his pamphlet Mundus Novus, in which he claimed there was undiscovered territory south of the equator.33 His discoveries informed the 1507 map Universalis Cosmographia, attributed to the German cartographer Martin Waldseemüller, which labeled the landmass across the southern Atlantic “America.”34 Whatever the name, Europeans now had a foothold in these new lands.

  * This book will use the term “Anglo” when referring to white, English-speaking people within the United States. Also, whenever possible, specific Native American names will be used, with the term “Indian” employed to convey a more general sense.

  ** There is a long and heated debate about nomenclatures, with Hispanic falling out of favor. There has been some criticism of the word “Hispanic,” the most serious being that it is exclusionary because it leaves out people of African, Asian, and indigenous origin. At the same time some people think it covers anyone with roots in a Spanish-speaking nation. Interestingly, a 2017 book, Keywords for Latina/o Studies, which has sixty-three short essays about a single term, omits the word “Hispanic” altogether, with perhaps the closest term being a chapter on Latinidad/es, though as this essay’s author points out, this word, too, has come under fire for homogenizing the diversity of an entire hemisphere.

  * The U.S. Census Bureau estimates there will be 138 million Spanish-speakers by 2050, out of an overall population of around 430 million. The languages Spanish and English more or less dominate the Americas, with Portuguese running a close third at around 200 million people, and French a distant fourth. These are followed by a wide range of indigenous languages from across the hemisphere.

  * Accounts from the fifteenth century call the people of Hispaniola Taino, but this is possibly based on a misunderstanding of what they called themselves. Likewise, some of the inhabitants of the other islands were called Caribs. Both of those terms are still in use today, but more contemporary scholarship identifies them as members of the Arawak people.

  Chapter 1

  Santa Elena, South Carolina, ca. 1492–1550

  AT THE SOUTHERN tip of Parris Island, South Carolina, in the center of a silent grove of trees heavy with Spanish moss, sits a simple white monument. It reads:

  Here stood

  Charlesfort

  Built 1562

  By Jean Ribaut

  For Admiral Coligny

  A Refuge

  For Huguenots

  And to the

  Glory of France

  Reaching this point requires driving through the Carolina low country to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot that takes up most of the island. At the far southern end of the base, beyond a golf course, a tree-lined road connects the clubhouse to a small park. Just over a wooden footbridge that spans a dry creek bed is the shady spot where the monument stands. Erected in 1925, this historical marker was later joined by others dotted around the area, explaining how the Spanish spotted this bit of land in 1521, named it Santa Elena in 1526, and fought over it against the French, who arrived three decades later. Parris Island, where the Broad and Beaufort Rivers converge, is surrounded by tidal creeks, mosquitoes, and the dense, wet smell of alluvial mud. It seems an unlikely location to begin the story of the Spanish in North America, and in some ways it was.

  The Spanish path to Santa Elena can be traced from Spain to Hispaniola, bouncing from island to island in the Caribbean, until it reaches Veracruz, Mexico. By the early 1500s, three men whose lives would be bound up with the creation of Spain’s American empire had arrived in Hispaniola: Bartolomé de Las Casas, in 1502; Hernando Cortés, in 1504; and Juan Ponce de León, who had been part of Columbus’s second voyage in 1493. They all had complicated journeys to the Americas and through life: Las Casas would undergo a famous conversion over the treatment of indigenous people; Cortés would take a gamble that had an unimaginable payoff; and Ponce would die a failure, though his exploits would live on, misunderstood and misremembered.

  Ponce’s career had an auspicious start. As a young man in Spain, where he was born in the Valladolid province sometime around 1474, he participated in the successful campaign against the Moors in Granada before joining Columbus. From there he became involved in the suppression of an indigenous uprising on Hispaniola, in Higüey in 1504, for which he was rewarded by being put in charge of the eastern territory.1

  In 1507 Ponce asked Nicolás de Ovando, who had replaced Bobadilla as governor, for permission to make an expedition to a nearby island, Borikén (sometimes spelled Borinquén) or San Juan Bautista, as Columbus named it on his second voyage, which is today’s Puerto Rico.2 Ponce met with local chiefs and explored the coastline before returning to Hispaniola, where he obtained the necessary permissions to colonize the island. In doing so, he was entitled to a share of what was discovered—and he struck gold. Deals were soon made with caciques to force their people to work prospecting in the rivers or digging in mines, as well as growing crops in the fields to support the Spaniards, and so began the encomienda on that island.3

  In 1509 Ponce was named governor of the island, a post he kept until it was contested by Diego Columbus, the admiral’s son, who had convinced the courts in Madrid of his claim to his father’s title of admiral and viceroy of the New World. With his newfound powers, he pushed Ponce out in 1511.4 This was coupled with a large indigenous uprising in Puerto Rico, which killed at least two hundred Spaniards.5 By this point Ponce had amassed enough wealth to undertake another expedition, and in 1512 he secured a royal grant for the right to colonize what was thought to be the island of Bimini, though once again Spanish geography would prove inaccurate.6

  The impetus for Ponce’s trip was to explore, but also to raid neighboring islands looking for Amerindians to enslave, a profitable enterprise.7 As was customary, Ponce put up his own money. He gathered men in three ships, making their way from Puerto Rico to the Atlantic side of today’s Florida. There are uncertainties about where they landed, but the consensus is somewhere between Ponte Vedra, just south of modern Jacksonville; and Melbourne, near modern Cape Canaveral, among the Ais (Ays) people.8

  They arrived in April 1513 around the time of the Easter feast of flowers, Pascua Florida, so Ponce named the spot La Florida. This was the first known European encounter on this part of mainland North America, though other explorers, slavers, and shipwreck survivors very likely washed up before Ponce did. Initially he thought he was on an island, though he realized it was not the one he was seeking because it did not match his idea of Bimini’s size. All the same, he claimed the territory for Spain.9

  Ponce and his men then sailed south past Biscayne Bay, down to the Keys, rounding the tip of Florida, ending up in the Gulf of Mexico. Along the way they encountered the fierce currents of the Gulf Stream—the European discovery of which Ponce was later credited with making.10 They landed in an area belonging to the Calusa people, around modern Fort Myers.11 Although they stayed there a few weeks, the reception was hostile, resulting in a number of small skirmishes that were unpleasant enough to impel Ponce and his men to leave.

  Some historians have suggested that Amerindians from Cuba who had fled during the Spanish colonization of that island in 1511 went to Florida, so Ponce and his men were not so foreign after all—the native peoples of Florida had been warned. Some of the earliest, albeit secondary, accounts of indigenous-European encounters in Florida back this up, claiming there were Native Americans who could speak Spanish. It would have meant that the Calusa had some inkling about what these foreigners wanted, and what they were capable of doing.12 In this particular case, they wasted little time in driving Ponce and his men back to the Caribbean.

  Ponce reported a version of his efforts in 1
514, even sending the king some gold from Puerto Rico to give the impression that the Florida expedition had been a success.13 The ruse worked, and Ponce was granted the title of adelantado (frontier governor) of La Florida the following year. This name was a hangover from the Reconquista era—literally meaning one who advanced troops or invaders, signifying the advance of the Christian frontier and driving out the Moors. In the Americas, it granted the right to organize an expedition to unknown lands, and then claim and govern them for Spain. Ponce started making plans for his return.

  HERNANDO CORTÉS, LIKE Ponce, flourished after leaving Hispaniola. He was born around 1484 and grew up in the western Extremadura region of Spain, the son of an hidalgo, or minor nobleman. He studied law in Salamanca but later quit and sailed to Hispaniola around 1504. Once on that island, he obtained the post of notary in Azúa, about seventy miles west of Santo Domingo.14 He stayed there for a few years before joining Diego Velázquez de Cuéllar, who had also been on Columbus’s second voyage, on an expedition to Cuba in 1511. Columbus had sailed along the coast of the island he called Juana on his first voyage, probably in honor of Princess Joanna (Juana). This name was interchanged with and eventually superseded by mentions of Cuba, coming from Columbus’s interpretation of what he thought the indigenous people called the island. Soon Cuba began to appear on maps.15

  Velázquez erected a settlement on the southeastern edge of the island, near today’s Baracoa, though the headquarters was moved to a place they named Santiago de Cuba, on the southernmost coast. Cortés served as secretary to Velazquéz for a few years and was later a magistrate, or alcalde, in Santiago by 1517.16 As had been the case in Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, the indigenous people of Cuba had a complex relationship with the Spanish, often leading to bloody clashes. Subduing them was a formidable task, and the early colonial years were brutal. Although Queen Isabel had attempted to temper the treatment of the Amerindians, considering them vassals who could not be enslaved, violence was rife. Loopholes in the decrees the crown had issued could be exploited, not least the enslavement of anyone who resisted conversion to Christianity.

  Isabel died in 1504, and eight years passed before King Fernando turned his attention to how the indigenous people were being treated. The result was the 1512 Laws of Burgos.17 These required that encomenderos treat the Indians who worked for them well, not beating them and ensuring they had enough to eat. To support more systematic efforts of Christian conversion, they also called for new Indian settlements to be put near Spanish towns, a practice that would cause a significant disruption to traditional patterns of living.18

  With the fledgling colonies located so far from official oversight, abuses continued. The gap between what the crown wanted and what was happening on the ground was filled by a concept that developed in these early decades, known as obedezco pero no cumplo, “I obey but I do not comply,” meaning that mandates from Spain were accepted but not followed to the letter, allowing officials to be flexible—in positive and negative ways—in dealing with orders coming from thousands of miles away by monarchs and advisers who never saw for themselves the challenges of this New World.

  Around 1517, Governor Velázquez sent expeditions from Cuba to the nearby Yucatán Peninsula, to the west of the island. One party went ashore, in part to explore but also to find water, and they met the Maya who lived there. Although the Spanish might have been hoping to enslave some of them, the resulting encounter led to the death of fifty Spaniards and the capture of two. A second expedition landed on Cozumel, an island off the coast of the Yucatán, in 1518, with around two hundred men. Although they were attacked, they continued exploring the coast before returning to Cuba to report what they had seen.19 It appeared to Velázquez that this land might be suitable for settlement, so he wrote to the crown to obtain the necessary permission.20 In 1519, Velázquez ordered Cortés to further explore the Yucatán, but only to explore and trade, not colonize.21 Cortés obeyed, but he was not necessarily going to comply. He had other ideas and, gathering some five hundred men, he set sail in eleven ships.

  Cortés was taking a gamble. By not waiting for royal permission—doing so would have revealed his plans to Velázquez, who had the same goal—he risked forfeiting everything he thought he might find.22 He first sailed to Cozumel and soon discovered two Spaniards living on the mainland. Gonzalo Guerrero had married a local woman and had no interest in returning to life with Europeans, while Jerónimo de Aguilar could speak Yucatec Mayan and joined Cortés, his skills as a translator later proving an important asset.23

  They had a rocky start. A battle against the Maya ensued and cost Cortés some thirty-five soldiers, but in the end he received gifts of loyalty, including a female slave thought to be named Malintzin. She could speak Chontal Mayan and Nahuatl, and would become far more to Cortés than just his translator.* She, along with Aguilar, provided critical linguistic links as Cortés continued to explore along the Gulf coast, now some way south and west of the Yucatán Peninsula.24 He came to a stop on Good Friday in April 1519, at a promising harbor near an island the Spanish called San Juan de Ulúa. Cortés and his men went ashore, and they were met within the first couple of weeks by representatives of Moteuczoma, the ruler of the Mexica confederacy, which later accounts described as the “Aztec empire.”25

  This confederacy consisted of many different groups, but at its core was a triple alliance among the Nahuatl-speaking Mexica people, whose rise to power began in the fifteenth century, and the people of Texcoco and Tlacopan.26 The Maya and Mixtec-speaking people to the south were also connected, and the confederacy had a wide reach. These societies had their aristocracies and, like European kingdoms, complex social hierarchies. A powerful emperor was elected from within the alliance, though tradition dictated it was a Mexica man. Cortés quickly found out, however, that there was no uniform loyalty or support across the confederacy, something he learned after speaking to the Totonac people he had landed among.27

  During this time, Cortés and his men set up a camp on land near where they met with the Mexica representatives. Although various accounts of Moteuczoma written by Europeans claim the emperor had seen prophecies that involved the arrival of a white-skinned god, called Quetzalcóatl, or that there had been other cosmological portents indicating the fall of the Mexica, they may well have been later embellishments.28 There is much uncertainty about what Moteuczoma knew, why he made the decisions that he did, and how the Spanish chose to interpret them. In some tellings, Mexica representatives found Cortés and brought him gifts, staying among his men for about two weeks, in part to find out more about these strangers. Other interpretations cast this as an effort to get rid of the Spanish, while some consider this visit a prelude to meeting the emperor in the capital.29

  As Cortés explored, his men were fracturing. Some wanted to stick to the letter of Velázquez’s original order to only explore and trade, while others were more ambitious.30 Cortés decided to establish a settlement in late June, naming it Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz (today’s Veracruz), or Rich Town of the True Cross, after the Good Friday landing. He appointed judges, councilmen, a sheriff, and a treasurer who, in turn, appointed Cortés the captain and chief justice under the authority of the king, a shrewd way to establish his legitimacy. By July, there was a rudimentary town in place, and a ship was dispatched for Spain, bearing the “royal fifth,” treasures they had obtained of fine cotton cloth, feathers, and objects crafted of gold for the king. Also being carried to the court was a narrative of the expedition and the petition of the town council seeking royal confirmation of its actions.31 After that vessel sailed, some of the uneasy members of the expedition began to plan a return to Cuba. Once Cortés heard what was afoot, he ordered the remaining ships to be dismantled. There would be no turning back.32

  By early August, Cortés began his overland trek to the capital city Tenochtitlán (today’s Mexico City). Over the months that followed, he and his men encountered various Mesoamerican peoples, confirming their suspicions that the empire
was not as unified at it might have seemed. The Totonac were not the only disgruntled subjects: the Mexica confederacy had been built on the conquest of other peoples. They were forced to pay tribute but, crucially, local leaders and regimes were left in power. What had held the confederacy together was force. It was believed to have the power to enforce its political will, as embodied by the emperor. Cortés saw the weaknesses, but he needed to win over allies. He faced a tough battle with the Tlaxcalteca people, who were hostile to the Mexica but also suspicious of the Spanish. In the skirmishes and ambushes that followed, Cortés saw the skill of their army as the Spanish casualties mounted. He realized they needed to be on the same side and eventually brokered a peace.33 From there, Cortés headed with around five thousand Tlaxcaltec soldiers to Cholula, where the Spanish faced wary Cholulteca, whom Cortés hoped to bring onside. Around this time, rumors arose of a plot involving Mexica troops aiming to massacre Cortés and his men, so he attacked first, killing thousands, though this is the Spanish version of events. Subsequent interpretations have revealed no such plan, though the end result was a firm alliance with the Tlaxcalteca.34

  Cortés arrived in Tenochtitlán on November 8, 1519, and the world he entered was on a much larger and more urbanized scale than anything he had yet encountered. For a start, Tenochtitlán was a wonder in itself, sitting on an island on placid Lake Texcoco in the verdant Valley of Mexico, surrounded by mountains and more than a mile above sea level. The thin, cool air would have been a marked change from the always-present pressure of tropical humidity at sea level. The city was connected to the land around the lake by a system of causeways that could be removed to stop invasions. The capital was estimated to have a population of around 150,000 by the time the Spanish arrived, making it far larger than any European city—Seville, for instance, numbered around forty thousand people at the time.35 The Valley of Mexico was home to an estimated 1 million to 2.65 million people.36