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The Modern Autobiographical "I" in Bernal Díaz del Castillo

Yanira Angulo-Cano

MLN, Volume 125, Number 2, March 2010 (Hispanic Issue), pp.


287-304 (Article)

Published by The Johns Hopkins University Press


DOI: 10.1353/mln.0.0251

For additional information about this article


http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/mln/summary/v125/125.2.angulo-cano.html

Access Provided by Emory University Libraries at 10/06/10 5:45PM GMT


The Modern Autobiographical
“I” in Bernal Díaz del Castillo

Yanira Angulo-Cano

In The Writing of History, Michel de Certeau, characterizes the role of


writing in the recovery of the past as a kind of tomb, a historiographic
tomb connecting the past to the present. In fact, he asserts that, “A
society furnishes itself with a present time by virtue of historical writ-
ing” (101). Ever since Europeans settled in the New World, they and
their descendants—from Fray Ramón Pané to Octavio Paz—have tried
to furnish a present by recovering the past in what de Certeau calls
a scriptural gallery.
Critics of the Historia verdera de la conquista de Nueva España 1 have
commented repeatedly about the linkage of the past to the present
by means of historical writing.2 For four centuries, they have debated
the historical veracity and/or literary characteristics found in Bernal
Díaz del Castillo’s text, and they have reminded each successive
generation of their responsibility for making sense of Bernal Díaz’s
text in their own circumstances.3 Likewise, recent writers have linked

1
 Throughout this study I cite the 1984 Casa de las Américas edition of Bernal’s
text.
2
 In 1991, Alonso Mendiola Mejía argued that each generation reinterprets Bernal
Díaz’s historical legacy in accordance with its notions of what is real (132–33). Earlier,
in 1944, Ramón Iglesia had confessed modifying his views on Bernal Díaz as the result
of his experiences in the Spanish Civil War (65).
3
 A very short list of such writers throughout the centuries would include Alonso
de Zorita and Diego Muñoz Camargo (16th), Antonio de Solís and Antonio Herrera
(17th), William Robertson (18th), John Ingram Lockhart and William H. Prescott
(19th), Genaro García and Carlos Pereyra (20th), and José Antonio Barbón Rodríguez
and Oswaldo Estrada (so far in the 21st).

MLN 125 (2010): 287–304 © 2010 by The Johns Hopkins University Press
288 YANIRA ANGULO-CANO

Bernal Díaz to the modern Latin American narrative; among them,


Enrique Anderson Imbert points out that Bernal Díaz was, “el único
cronista que se atreve a citar libros de caballerías” (19); while Carlos
Fuentes credits him as, “nuestro primer novelista” (74). Writing on
the threshold of the 21st Century, in her Memoria original de Bernal
Díaz del Castillo, Verónica Cortínez has found, tucked away in an
obscure provincial Chilean publication (El Diario Color), an article
where Pablo Neruda had bested Fuentes by classifying Bernal Díaz’s
text as a “long novel” (8).
As we know, Hayden White in Tropics of Discourse, among other critics,
has pointed out the similarities between writing history and writing
fiction (125). But even though the historical contributions and literary
praise add clarity to the critical discourse, a measure of uncertainty
remains concerning the generic profile of the Historia verdadera de la
conquista de Nueva España. Perhaps that is why Walter Mignolo, in his
generic approach to the Spanish chronicles of the conquest, “Cartas,
crónicas y relaciones del descubrimiento y la conquista,” admits to
not being able to classify Bernal Díaz’s text, and he limits himself to
stressing its special place as “discurso” structured around “las histo-
rias clásicas o sobre los preceptos del relato histórico” (83). Verónica
Cortínez, on the other hand, treats this generic question as one of the
objectives of her recent book. She suggests that Bernal Díaz’s memory
contains a seed bearing the future magical literature of New Spain: “La
Historia verdadera, crónica atenta a la realidad de ese nuevo mundo,
nueva forma de historiar, contiene la memoria original de alguien para
quien la extraña grandeza de la Nueva España alberga ya la semilla
de una literatura hecha de novedades y nostalgias” (301).
The act of highlighting the poetic experience that Bernal Díaz’s
text induces in its readers, allows Cortínez to claim it as the founda-
tional base of the contemporary Latin American narrative (300). By
highlighting the old chronicler’s introspection (“memoria original”),
Cortínez has nudged the voluminous Díaz del Castillo research towards
a new stage: the autobiography.4 More recently still, Oswaldo Estrada,
in “Concierto de voces y andares en la Historia verdadera de Bernal
Díaz del Castillo,” argues very persuasively that Bernal Díaz displays a
whole range of literary characteristics; such as, round and flat charac-
ters (45–42), an inserted short-story (47), character growth (50), and
an autobiographical “I” (55). My objective in this paper is to analyze
4
 Few critics had entertained previously the notion that the autobiographic genre
could be part of Bernal Díaz’s plan; among them, Henry Wagner (179) and Herbert
Cerwin (x).
M L N 289

those life experiences that motivate and guide Bernal’s writing of the
Historia verdadera, within the context of the autobiographical genre.
James Goodwin, in Autobiography: The Self Made Text, states that this
type of genre “marks the confluence of self (auto-), life (-bio-) and
writing (-graphy)” (3). The self, revealing its experiences through the
medium of writing, is a personal journey of discovery. Along these lines,
Georges Gusdorf has pointed out how typical Western writers struggle
fashioning an internal structure that projects their identities. Gusdorf
adds that such Narcissistic preoccupation causes writers to celebrate
their works as preventive measures against oblivion. He explains such
autobiographically-driven-writing as resembling a kind of script/film
relationship (12). It is not simply the past as it was (13), nor is the
subject of the autobiography the same person as s/he was then, as
Karl J. Weintraub argues in “Autobiografía y conciencia histórica”
(25). Ultimately, such re-writing and re-reading of the author’s mental
text is what makes the autobiography a useful tool for enriching the
present with past experiences (Goodwin 16).
In the case of Bernal Díaz, he is aware of the transcendence of his
role in the conquest of New Spain. He wants to write himself and his
fellow soldiers into the history of the conquest, “porque haya fama
memorable de nosotros,” and so that what he considers their heroic
deeds are not forgotten, “posimos y aventuramos nuestras vidas . . .
descubriendo tierras que jamás se había tenido noticia dellas y de
día y de noche, batallando con multitud de belicosos guerreros” (I:
7). Worried about his endangered interests, Bernal Díaz dives into
his memory in order to give unity and meaning to his experiences
within the conquest of New Spain. Such effort has fueled the debate
over the conflictive interests of the encomendero and the emerging
historian (Adorno 257), either in terms of the truthfulness of his
account, or in terms of a biased material objective.5 Perhaps because
of such a polarized debate, critics have not paid enough attention to a

5
 Sarah H. Beckjord claims that Bernal Díaz manipulates the words of other historians
of the conquest in order to prevent the questioning of sensitive matters such as the
Cholula massacre (157). Jill Ker Conway provides an equally negative view by stating
that Bernal records “the astonishment and wonder at the riches and achievement
of the Indian civilization he and his fellow Spanish invaders of Mexico were laying
waste in an adventure of unmitigated greed carried out in the name of Christianity”
(9–10). On the other side of this debate, we find David A. Boruchoff, who rejects any
modern recasting of the soldier’s text as simply pro-conquistador propaganda: “The
tireless efforts of Bernal Díaz to resist the assimilation of the conquistadors’ struggles
within the socioreligious framework of Europe are a mainstay of this project” (367).
Also, Inga Clendinnen brands Bernal Díaz’s text as “one of the greatest participant
histories ever written” (5).
290 YANIRA ANGULO-CANO

significant aspect of his plan: his introspection. As we shall see, Bernal


Díaz’s deep search within his memory, the attending manufacture of
his new personal identity, empowered with and by the notary form of
writing,6 exuding pride and promoting its brand of action nobility,7
all seem to point toward an autobiographical intention.
Besides the dynamic relationship between self, life, and writing—as
James Goodwin sums up the three components of the genre—Philippe
Lejeune adds a fourth element: autobiographical writing as a type of
reading (30). Furthermore, as Goodwin has also indicated, in “autobi-
ography there is a promise and expectation that the author’s personal
discourse functions in a direct relationship with the narrative” (17).
This is the key to Bernal Díaz’s success as a writer. Bernal’s assertion
from the start of being the only participant in all three expeditions
to México (I: 8b), legitimizes his account and persuades his readers
to follow him in his memory search. Karl J. Weintraub’s work on the
autobiographical genre helps to shed light on Bernal Díaz del Castillo’s
plan to give meaning to past events kept in his memory.
In the previously cited “Autobiografía y conciencia histórica,” Wein-
traub identifies the various generic characteristics of the autobiography.
For the purposes of this study, I have selected four types or sub-genres:
ideal, self-justification, memoirs and res gestae (19). For Weintraub,
these types are the result of the dynamic relationship between the “I”
and its circumstances. He establishes the range of possible sub-genres
by contrasting the absolute or relative weight between the author’s
identity and the information about her/his experiences. Thus, in the
ideal autobiographical type, writers concentrate almost exclusively
in reflecting about their own life, where external deeds only play a
component role in the self’s inner landscape. Weintraub offers Saint
Augustine’s Confessions 8 as model for this kind of autobiography. In
another sub-genre, the self-justification, writers make reference to
external events that confirm the mythic worthiness of the self’s life.
He does not offer explicitly a model of self-justification, but one can
infer such a model in his analysis of Rousseau’s various works (24).
If Weintraub sees the ideal and the self-justification as exhorting a

6
 In Myth and Archive, Roberto González Echevarría frames all Spanish American
colonial writing within the context of legal writing (45).
7
 In Retórica, historia y polémica: Bartolomé de las Casas y la tradición intelectual renacentista,
Santa Arias treats the dichotomy between European inherited nobility and Spanish
American battle-attained nobility (108).
8
 James Goodwin supports this view by defining the Confessions as an autobiographical
form that “leads to an intimate revelation of the writer and the parallel soul-searching
in the reader” (4).
M L N 291

life’s significance, then he considers the other two types, the mem-
oirs and the res gestae, as promoting the external accomplishments
of the self.
In the memoirs, writers link external events to their personalities
and thereby use such events as evidence of their worth. As a result,
the perceived image of the writer’s internal view often depends on
the deductions made by their readers. Weintraub considers Goethe’s
Memoirs as the first memoirs ever written (33). Still another sub-genre,
the res gestae, is characterized by writers concentrating on the expe-
rienced heroic deeds, without attaching any internal significance to
them. For this kind of autobiographical model Weintraub suggests
Emperor Augustus’s Res Gestae (19).
If we put these categories in perspective, the range of autobio-
graphical sub-genres could be explained by means of the following
illustration:

Interior world ⇔ External reality


Ideal type Self-justification Memoirs Res gestae

Figure 1. Range of Karl J. Weintraub’s autobiographical subgenres (19). The


illustration is mine.

In this illustration (fig. 1), the four sub-genres are placed in a


continuum that ranges from the absolutely internal view of the self
(ideal) to the absolutely external view of events (res gestae), and that
also includes the relative positions of the self-justification and the
memoirs to the internal/external poles. This dichotomy (interior/
exterior reality) establishes the theoretical boundaries of the auto-
biography by differentiating between the near mythic importance of
the self’s existence, or the significance of external events in the self’s
life. It not only helps define the various autobiographical types, but
it also adds a measure of generic clarity to the different parts of the
Historia verdadera.
Common sense indicates that we should be careful when applying
these autobiographical types to an autobiography research project
such as the present one. Weintraub warns us that these sub-genres
often show themselves in “hybrid” forms, but authors may help us to
separate them by means of their intention, and their chosen points of
view. If we accept his thesis that life is a dynamic “interaction between
the ‘I’ and its circumstance” (19), then autobiography should be more
292 YANIRA ANGULO-CANO

than a “repetition of the past as it was” (Gusdorf 38). In other words,


it can be assumed that when autobiographers review their lives, they
are quite serious about adding meaning to their existences. Finally,
Weintraub argues that this moment of contemplation is situated just
beyond the time of a crisis or fundamental experience (20).
If we take a look at Bernal Díaz’s life, we see that he returns to Spain
in 1540, hoping to vindicate his endangered interests. While there,
he is distraught over the Court’s lack of acknowledgement of his hoja
de servicio on Spain’s behalf. In this moment of crisis, we can assume
that some “personal questions require clarification” (Weintraub 20).
Given Bernal Díaz’s stated motivation for his writing, we can infer what
may be some of these questions. Were his accomplishments worthy of
fame and other such forms of recognition? Were his merits deserving
of an encomienda? Does he see a way out of such a crisis in his life?
As Herbert Cerwin suggested over forty years ago (94–95), Bernal
Díaz realizes that, while in Spain, all of his glorious efforts are on
the verge of being transformed into objects of scorn, if not outright
criminal acts. As this biographer suggests, having taken the pulse of
his ambitions of yesterday and his endangered hopes of today, Bernal
Díaz reviews the interior of his memories, and he decides to justify
himself before others. The instrument for his justification is made
up of his own written words, as opposed to the words of the scribe/
notary during an earlier probanza de méritos.9
What results from his effort to make his own past coherent? First,
undoubtedly, we can observe a self-justification frame of mind, one
that reflects the ideology that has guided his life (Weintraub 19, 27).
That is to say, the material and spiritual well being of New Spain
depends on the exchange of indigenous labor for their evangelization
and acculturation by the Spaniards such as himself. As he reminds
us in his narrative, he participated in all of the three expeditions to
Mexico, fought in countless battles, was injured repeatedly, and suf-
fered hunger and disease. Afterwards, with Mexico under Spanish
control, Bernal Díaz played his part in establishing the underpinnings
of a Hispanic-Christian culture in New Spain, by starting a family and
becoming a respected member of the community in Guatemala City

9
 Alberto Rivas Yanes, in the introduction to the 1999 Editorial Castalia edition of
Bernal Díaz’s text, reminds us that he traveled to Spain in 1540 armed with his first
probanza de mérito. He had hoped that, by means of the judge’s signature, he could make
his meritorious service to the Crown official, and thereby receive his rewards (30). For
a closer look at these documents, see José Antonio Barbón Rodríguez’s edition of the
Historia verdadera (815–1064).
M L N 293

(I: 7–10). His pride in his military-civilian record, his self view as a
man who has lived a good life, motivates his first autobiographical
project, the self-justification. Borrowing Weintraub’s theory, I place
the self-justification in fig. 1 slightly left of the center between the
interior-external extremes. This is so because self-justification writers
seek within their inner world the justification for the actions performed
in the outside physical world (Weintraub 19).
Despite the fact that the self-justification project may well be the
first result of the writer’s introspective reflection for giving coherence
and meaning to his life, it appears at the end of the Historia verdadera.
Of the 214 chapters that make up the Guatemala manuscript,10 the
greater part of the self-justification is found in the eight chapters
numbered CCVII–CCXIV, as shown in Fig. 2.
Having carried out his need for justification, his continued memory
search leads him to feel pride for his participation in the mythical act
of the conquest. From this moment on, his personal role in the three
New Spain campaigns allow him to identify himself with an experien-
tial paradigm that harmonizes his identity and his life experiences.
As surprising as it may seem, the life and written testimony of Fray
Bartolomé de Las Casas offers Bernal Díaz a model for fashioning
his life narrative.
In the prologue to Brevísima relación de la destrucción de las Indias,
Bartolomé de Las Casas sermonizes about a monarch’s responsibilities
as shepherd of his flock. As a manifestation of what Roberto González
Echevarría has called the legalistic nature of colonial narratives,11 Las
Casas cites his responsibility for informing the Prince about the crimes
committed within the context of natural, cannon and civil law (Las
Casas 72). As Santa Arias indicates, Las Casas credits his writing author-
ity because of his privileged memory as a morally-superior, participant-
witness (Arias 112). Such is his confidence on his ­writing authority

10
 Guillermo Serés suggests that out of his original manuscript, Bernal Díaz made two
copies. One of these he kept as a kind of “work in progress”—commonly described as
the Guatemala manuscript—and he sent the other to Spain in 1575. This manuscript
became known as the Remón manuscript; it is the basis for the first edition (1632) of
the chronicle (524–25). For a thorough examination of these two manuscripts, and of
a third one referred as the Alegría manuscript, consult the Edición Monumental of
Bernal’s text by Carmelo Sáenz de Santa María.
11
 According to González Echevarría, since the nature of the relationships between
the individual, the city and the state in Spain were legally defined through the written
word, this gave the appearance of a legal style to all writings in the New World colonies
(54). See also Ángel Rama’s La ciudad letrada, where he points to the double meaning
of the word order, whereby the King issued an order that ultimately established a new
order in the colonies (5).
294 YANIRA ANGULO-CANO

Chapter Contents Justification of Merit

CCVII Heroism Conquest for Spain


CCVIII Sacrifice and sodomy Evangelical mission
CCIX Acculturationa Cultural bases
CCX Exchange of richnessb Mutual benefit
CCXI Debate in Valladolid México and Perúc
CCXII Consultants Authenticity of witness
CCXIII Slavery Treason and absenced
CCXIV List of governors Rule of law

Figure 2. It lists a summary of content and justification of merit found in chapters


CCVII–CCXIV. The illustration is mine.
a
It includes a list of new occupations, professions, and land and cattle enterprises, in ad-
dition to the respectful appreciation for local law, customs, and Spanish celebrations.
b
Besides the exchange of products, it emphasizes the printing press and the universal
college, where bachelors and doctorates were granted.
c
It offers a version of the failure of the encomienda in perpetuity as a result of crimes
committed by Spaniards in Perú.
d
It excuses the enslavement of indigenous people as a consequence of war, or that
it mostly happened when he and Cortés were in the territory that became known as
Honduras.

that he dares to patronize the future Philip II; as seen through: (1)
the acknowledgement that the Prince has been too busy to read an
earlier text sent to him, (2) the suggestion that now it would be easier
to read his shortened account, and (3) the need to warn his father;
otherwise, the spiritual and temporal health of the Kingdom of Castile
would be in great peril (Las Casas 72–73).
Despite his clearly defined persona as the nemesis of the old
conquistadors-settlers, Las Casas had demonstrated that his anti-
hegemonic and pro-Indian agency could deliver gains in the Spanish
politico-judicial space. A reasonable assumption is that Las Casas’s
effectiveness in protecting Indian rights through his writings did not
go unnoticed by Bernal Díaz, as demonstrated by his correspondence
with Las Casas.12 Therefore, despite the differences in their rhetorical
12
 Bernal Díaz sent a letter to Las Casas, included in the Ramírez Cabañas 1960 edi-
tion, in which he claims to have sent earlier communications to the friar. In this letter,
Bernal asks Las Casas for his support in his petitions to the Crown, claiming that his
service record is compatible with the Lascasian agenda (Ramírez Cabañas 451–53).
See André Saint-Lu’s article, “Bernal Díaz del Castillo y Bartolomé de Las Casas,”
M L N 295

objectives,13 both Díaz and Las Casas credit their respective roles as
participant-witnesses for endowing their writings with greater authen-
ticity over their rhetorical adversaries. It can be argued that Las Casas’
writing success influenced Bernal Díaz’s own memory search and
writing experience.
As Weintraub observes, autobiography is a likely possibility whenever
authors are fascinated by the internal structure of their personality.
Furthermore, he affirms that the particular form of the autobiogra-
phy is linked to the actual conception of the self; that the internal
structure determines the outside written structure (25). How people
conceive the “I” is determined by the type of culture where they live. In
a primitive patriarchal society, where individuality is highly restricted,
men may only identify themselves as “I am A, son of B, who in turn
was the son of C”; that is to say, a man in these societies considers
himself a mere extension of that society (25). Something like this still
persists in Bernal Díaz’s “I,” as we have seen in his notary-like descrip-
tion of himself and his father, “natural de la muy noble e insigne Villa
de Medina del Campo, hijo de Francisco Díaz del Castillo, regidor
que fué della, que por otro nombre le llamaban ‘El Galán’” (I: 7a).
One can observe the same pattern in this confession: “Y como mis
antepasados y mi padre y un mi hermano siempre fueron servidores
de la Corona Real y de los Reyes Católicos . . . quise parecer en algo
a ellos” (I: 9a).
After reminding his readers of his family’s service to the monarchy,
Bernal Díaz’s “I” will offer a self-vision modeled after the archetypal war-
rior. This model appears in aristocratic warring societies, where one’s
personality is dependent upon a given ideal for perfection. Weintraub
asserts that in these societies a man does not possess a personality
isolated from the rest of society (26), and that the actions of men are
curiously governed by their fear of committing a dishonorable act, a
position similar to that expressed by Mircea Eliade in the Myth of the
Eternal Return (28). The danger lies in a goal defined through actions,

where he enumerates common concerns related to corrupt administrative practices


that lead to both indigeneous and settler injustices and where he characterizes their
mutual relationship as, “bien concretas y al parecer nada desconfiadas entre el antiguo
conquistador y el defensor de los indios” (662–63).
13
 Although Bernal Díaz is often portrayed as a technically deficient writer, it is
Las Casas who presents a rather convoluted order of the Aristotelian remedies in
his prologue to the Brevísima relación (71–73). For an analysis of Bernal Díaz’s use of
the Aristotelian rhetorical devices, see my article, “Prólogos de Historia verdadera de la
conquista de Nueva España.”
296 YANIRA ANGULO-CANO

while actions risk dishonor. When writing about their lives, these men
do not gather the intimate details saved in memory, but instead fash-
ion “the graphic representation of a heroic act.” Such representation
would be in the form of the res gestae (Weintraub 26).
Bernal Díaz’s text shows that his res gestae narrative covers thirty-
seven chapters. These chapters detail the warring events of greater sig-
nificance; such as, Gonzalo de Córdoba’s 1517 expedition to Yucatán,
Juan de Grijalva’s 1518 expedition to the Gulf of México, and specially,
Hernán Cortés’ 1519 expedition to México’s central valley. Bernal Díaz
also includes the trials and tribulations of Cortés’s 1524 expedition
to the territory that later became Honduras. However, Bernal Díaz’s
autobiographical plan does not limit itself to associating glorious deeds
with certain figures, places and dates. Instead, he frames them in the
context of a deep human emotion: the fear of death.
Despite the relative security that their ships and European weapons
provide, the men about whom Bernal Díaz writes always see themselves
as threatened by death. It appears to haunt them in the natives’ numeri-
cal superiority, in the fury with which they fight, or their unlucky fate,
judging by their shipwrecks, diseases, and accidents. The fear of dying
in foreign lands, removed from their countrymen’s awareness, can be
felt throughout the res gestae chapters.
In chapters II–IV (1517 expedition), Bernal Díaz depicts the first
battle with the Catoche Point Indians. After the Spaniards rout the
natives, they come upon figurines in the Indians’ places of worship
that foretell an infernal future. According to Bernal’s account, the
natives “tenían muchos ídolos de barro, unos como caras de demonios”
(I: 12b). Later, in Potonchan, they stumbled upon native priests with
fearsome appearances, “y los cabellos muy grandes, llenos de sangre
revuelta con ellos” (I: 14a). What had been up to that point a pre-
monition of ritualistic human sacrifice, in chapters IX and XVI (1518
expedition), becomes horrific testimony, as they find actual victims of
such barbaric practices: “y estaban abiertos por los pechos y cortados
los brazos y los muslos, y las paredes de las casas [adoratorios] llenas
de sangre” (I: 35b).
The fear of death is quite common throughout those res gestae
chapters pertaining to the 1519 expedition.14 In these chapters, Ber-
nal Díaz’s narrative shows the Spaniards’ fear of becoming victims

14
 In chapters XXXI–XXXIII (Tabasco), chapters LXII–LXIII, LXV–LXIX (Tlascala)
and chapters XCV, CXXVIII, CXLV, CL–CLII, CLIV–CLVII (Tenochtitlán), the fear of
being sacrificed serves as motivation for their relentless fighting. The best examples of
this inducement appear in chapters LXVIII–LXIX, CXLV, CLII and CLIV–CLV.
M L N 297

of such rituals. In Tabasco fourteen Spaniards are wounded; among


them, Bernal Díaz suffers an arrow wound to the tight, although he
understates its significance by characterizing it as: “mas poca herida”
(I: 71b). Later, in the siege of Tlaxcala, the writer is not so dismissive
of the dangers: “y estaban nuestras vidas en mucho peligro porque
eran tantos guerreros que a puñadas de tierra nos cegaran” (I: 141b),
and he ends up acknowledging a collective fear: “Y supimos cierto
questa vez que venían con pensamiento que no habían de dejar
ninguno de nosotros con vida que no habían de ser sacrificados a
sus ídolos” (I: 145).
In chapter LXVIII, Bernal Díaz details the precarious state of
the Spanish forces: 55 dead because of battles, cold weather and
deceases, numerous wounded, an ill Cortés, and finding themselves
surrounded by the natives at the gates of Tlaxcala. In chapter, LXIX,
other difficulties arise, including the need to re-supply and to arrest
the urge of withdrawing toward the coast. Here Cortés devises a
strategy, inspired by his men’s own fears. He convinces them that, if
they retreat to the coast, their Indian allies will see their withdrawal
as a sign of weakness, and that, if they are to survive, they will have
to continue fighting. Here Bernal Díaz quotes Cortés, “las piedras se
levantarían contra nosotros . . . nos juzgarían por muy cobardes y de
pocas fuerzas” (I: 156).
In chapters CXXV y CLII, Spaniards become alarmed by the speed
with which the indigenous people incorporate Spanish technology
(swords tied at the end of long poles for the purpose of injuring the
horses, darts fired with captured crossbows), and that they adapt to
the changing conditions of the Spanish siege of Tenochtitlán (ambush-
ing rather than frontal assaults). These indigenous adaptations and
new procedures result in sixty-six Spaniards captured and sacrificed
within sight of their comrades in a single day. Cortés himself scarcely
escapes capture. Moreover, in chapters CLIV–CLV, the danger of the
situation worsens even more when the Indians, desperate with hunger
and by what they consider to be the ignoble way of Spanish warfare
(­Clendinnen 93), abandon a significant aspect of their ritualistic war-
making. Instead of capturing prisoners for the ritualistic sacrificing to
their gods, they now seek to kill the enemy on the battlefield. Before
this tactical change, the Spaniards enjoyed one more advantage in
combat because the taking of prisoners made the natives more vul-
nerable to Spanish weapons. Now, threatened by the new tactic, the
Spaniards and their allies respond with greater aggressiveness in the
siege of the city (Clendinnen 94).
298 YANIRA ANGULO-CANO

The theme of honor resonates in Historia verdadera as part of the res


gestae autobiographical model. It serves to inject an epic dimension
to the collective effort. In chapter XLV, while Cortés speaks to the
Indian chief of Cempoala about his mission, it recalls the contents of
books of chivalry: “e que lo hobiese menester que se lo dijese, quél
lo haría por ellos, porque somos vasallos de un tan gran señor . . .
que nos envía para deshacer agravios y castigar a los malos y mandar
que no sacrifiquen más ánimas” (I: 100a). In short, Bernal Díaz offers
his vision of a self that prefers to die than to be dishonored, an “I”
that fears death in the diabolical Aztec temples, and that allows itself
to be seduced by chivalry and by legendary settings: “nos quedamos
admirados, y decíamos que parescía a las cosas de encantamiento que
cuentan en el libro de Amadís por las grandes torres y cues y edificios
que tenían” (I: 199b). This “I” is aware of its heroic deeds and proudly
presents them to his readers.
If the application of the generic characteristics of the autobiography
so far has set aside the last eight chapters as examples of the self-
justification, and likewise with those other thirty-seven chapters linked
to the res gestae, what can be said now about the generic profile of
the remaining 169 chapters?
Most critics consider that the true autobiography is the result of a
modern concept of the self (Goodwin 10).15 If writers consider their
“I” as unique, then they will proudly write about their life experiences
as their legacy to posterity. Accordingly, Weintraub proposes that the
first strictly modern autobiography is that of Goethe (33). Goodwin
equally argues for the modernity of the genre. According to him, before
the 19th Century, most introspective writers had to claim “an absolute
spiritual, philosophical or social imperative to write an account of the
self,” but afterwards this was no longer necessary (8). By then, the
unique, written presentation of the self’s life became an acceptable
practice in its own right (8). However, Gusdorf opens the possibility
that a modern concept of the “I” had an earlier start. He claims that
in the res gestae and in the memoirs since the Renaissance, one senses
individual foreshadowing akin to the autobiography (10).
Upon examining the Historia verdadera, it is not difficult to link it to
Gusdorf’s earlier individualist conception of the “I.” When, on chapter

15
 I am not considering here the latest trend in autobiographical theory where the
individual fashions a life-writing persona within the context of a minority community.
See Nancy K. Miller, “Representing Others: Gender and the Subjects of Autobiogra-
phy” (3), and Isabel Álvarez Borland, Cuban-American Literature of Exile: From Person to
Persona (11).
M L N 299

XVI, Bernal tells the story of his successful planting of orange seeds
near present Veracruz, “Cómo yo sembré unas pepitas de naranja . . .
que había traído de Cuba . . . y nacieron muy bien,” it is clear that
he is proud of having introduced the orange into Mexican territory:
“de allí se hicieron de naranjos toda aquella provincia” (92).16 This
pioneering attitude manifests itself elsewhere; such as, when he claims,
as previously stated, to be the only conquistador to have taken part in
all three expeditions17 to what is now México, and more significantly
in chapter XXIII. Here, as Bernal Díaz presents a detailed list of the
horses brought in the 1519 expedition, their gender, their owners,
their suitability for war, and even their ultimate end, he reveals in
his narrative a new facet of his personality. He is no longer justify-
ing himself, nor claiming individual merit because of heroic effort;
instead, he presents the third plan of his testimony: to record for his
readers his memoirs as a witness-participant of a unique foundational
experience. The following illustration (fig. 3) shows Bernal Díaz’s
effort in detailing (I: 55) the historical importance of introducing
the horse into New Spain.
Aside from showing the importance that Spaniards gave horses as
real or psychological fighting weapons, as a means of transportation
and communication, and as a symbol of the warrior’s ideal, the signifi-
cance of this list is that Bernal Díaz wants to stress not only the deeds
of men, but also the important seminal role of this animal. In this
expedition there is no reference to other domestic animals brought
over to the Mexican territory.18 In addition, he even emphasizes that
a mare gave birth during the voyage. The conquest in great part was
accomplished thanks to the horse, and thus the importance given to it
here and in chapters CLXXXVII and XXVI, where he extols the merits
of “Motilla,” Sandoval’s horse. Bernal Díaz does everything possible
to humanize the horse. Without saying it explicitly, he suggests that
they opened the way not only for the Spaniards’ conquest, but also
for the indigenous people whose lives changed so dramatically after
their introduction, as David Clawson indicates in his demographic
text, Latin America & the Caribbean (152).

16
 The source for this quote is the Joaquín Ramírez Cabañas 1939 edition, with an
editor’s note indicating that the passage appears crossed out in the original Guatemala
ms. It is not included in the Casa de las Américas edition used throughout this study,
even though this edition carries other such crossed out passages.
17
 A claim partly disputed by Henry Wagner (187).
18
 A noteworthy exception appears in the chapters dealing with the 1517 and 1518
expeditions. These pages make reference to a female dog brought to México by the
Spaniards (I: 45).
300 YANIRA ANGULO-CANO

Fate of 19 horses and mares brought by Cortés

Male Female

Good Bad Died Good Bad Died Gave Birth Owners

X Cortés
X Alvarado and de Ávila
X Hernández and Puerto.
Xa Velázquez de León
X Cristóbal de Olid
X Montego and Ávila
X F. de Morla
X Joan de Escalante
X Diego de Ordáz
X Y. Domínguez
X González Trujillo
X Morón
X Baena
X Lares
X Ortíz and García
X X Juan Sedeñob

7 3 1 4 1 0c 1 20

Figure 3. An account of horses and mares brought into New Spain by Cortés. The
illustration is mine.
Called “la Rabona.”
a

Besides bringing a pregnant mare, he also brought a black slave.


b
c
Apparently a discrepancy, since in chapter LXIII mention is made of a mare, ridden
by Pedro de Morón, killed in combat.

In addition to his individual planting of orange seeds and his


account of the introduction of the horse into the Mexican territory,
Bernal wastes no time in tackling other topics that demonstrate his self
view within a historical perspective. In chapter XIII, while narrating
the 1518 Grijalva expedition, Bernal presents the Christianization of
a native, baptized as Francisco (who later marries a native woman),
shortly before he introduces the horrors of human sacrifice, “y en
aquellos altares tenían unos ídolos de malas figuras, que eran sus
dioses. Y allí, hallamos sacrificados de aquella noche cinco indios”
(I: 35b). Among the tactics later used by Cortés to fight this horrific
M L N 301

practice, Bernal will highlight the empowering of religious authority


over all others (we may infer that this is at least in front of the natives)
by Cortés’ orders to the conquistadors to kneel and kiss the hands
of friars, “mandó a los españoles se hincasen de rodillas a besarles
las manos y hábitos” (II: 175b). Presumably, Bernal Díaz showed the
same respect for the friars.
There are many other examples of Bernal’s appreciation for his
unique experience—such as in chapter CCI, the introduction of
Spanish music and popular festivities—but what really shows Gusdorf’s
individualist conception of the “I,” is Bernal’s assertion of having been
summoned and questioned by Moctezuma himself: “Bernal Díaz del
Castillo, hánme dicho que tenéis motolinea de ropa y oro, y os man-
daré hoy una buena moza.” To whom he shows the proper respect,
“Yo le respondí, con mucho acato, que le besaba las manos por tan
gran merced” (I: 232b). What these chapters intimate is a developing
conception of Bernal’s self. Whereas his conception of the “I,” still
conditioned by his vision of the self as part of a warrior society, leads
him to write in compliance with the res gestae model, his external acts
are now framed by his personality. Of all the remaining conquistadors,
he is the one with the awareness and ethical responsibility for record-
ing the planting of orange seeds, fate of horses, efforts to eradicate
human sacrifice, establishment of Spanish culture, and his personal
relationship with the emperor of the Aztecs. All of this strongly sug-
gests that major changes are taking place in his self view: an “I” as
the most accredited witness of unique events, and obliged to saving
such experiences for posterity.
In conclusion, the long gestation of his text suggests and allows the
author an equally lengthy review of his past experiences.19 This process
began with the preparation of an unsuccessful 1539 legal document
(probanza de méritos). Later, a humbling experience at the Spanish
Court, in contrast with the at least partial success of Bartolomé de
Las Casas’ writings in support of Indian rights, only sharpened his
awareness for the need to protect his own threatened interests through
the re-writing of the historical record. In this task, Bernal Díaz shows
knowledge and makes use of various writing strategies reflected in

19
 Cerwin speculates that the period of introspection could have began while our
chronicler was returning from his first visit to Spain in 1540 (103), and in Chapter
CCXII, Bernal Díaz claims to have finished his writing project in 1568. In note 10, I
made reference to Guillermo Serés’ summary description of the two main manuscripts
of the Historia verdadera, noting that Bernal Díaz worked on the Guatemala ms. until
his death in 1584 (524–25).
302 YANIRA ANGULO-CANO

modern autobiographical theory. Such strategies served him for devel-


oping three facets of his personality. First, the eight final chapters of
the Historia verdadera justify his life as that of a worthy person. Second,
the thirty-seven chapters related to the res gestae, linked to traditional
social values, speak for themselves, and act as objective evidence for
validating Bernal Díaz’s claim of noble service to the Crown. Third,
the remaining 169 chapters reveal the development of a new person-
ality that considers itself unique, and is determined to rescue for his
readers the chronicler-participant’s “I’ testimony about the creation
of a new society in the New Spain. Through his reconstruction of the
colonial past, the old conquistador anticipated the modern conception
of the self as an “I” possessing privileged information for posterity’s
sake. In doing so, he furnished past and current readers with a key
component of the Latin American scriptural gallery.
Historians may find discrepancies in Bernal Díaz’s historical record,
but that misses the point. His goal was to harmonize his exterior his-
torical persona with the self-made image of his recalled experiences.
As one of the few remaining conquistadors alive, he challenged the
historical record with his experiences and the nature of his character.
In this effort, he not only became one of the most read historians of
the conquest, but—as Neruda, Fuentes, Estrada and Cortínez have
suggested—he plays a significant role as planter of the autobiographi-
cal genre and fictional narrative in Latin American letters.
Eckerd College

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