Alonso De Zorita’s career as a Spanish judge in the Indies in the years 1548–1556, though not as well known as the career of Bartolomé de las Casas and other pro-Indian reformers, merits serious study. The arrival of Zorita and his subsequent actions as an administrator and legist represent one example of the serious efforts of the Crown in the 1540’s to impose royal control over a quasi-feudal class of conquerors and pobladores which had from the early sixteenth century entrenched itself in the New World. Moreover, Zorita was not only a jurist who attempted to implement the New Laws of 1542–43, but an inspired humanitarian who took an active interest in the native civilizations of the New World and questioned the relations that had evolved and created “a Hispano-Indian society characterized by the domination of the masses by a small privileged minority…” His ardent defense of the Indians against the charge that they were “barbarians” included a relativist line of argument that anticipated Michel de Montaigne’s celebrated comment that “everyone calls barbarian what is not his own usage.” In addition, his inquiries into native history, land tenure and inheritance laws may be considered “in effect exercises in applied anthropology, capable of yielding a vast amount of information about native customs and society” and is an example of what Europe saw or failed to see in the sixteenth century when confronted with a strange new world.

One of the most momentous actions in the history of the Spanish colonial empire was the crown's expulsion and expropriation proceedings against the Society of Jesus in 1767. This topic has long received much scholarly attention. Perhaps of greater significance, but of almost total historiographical neglect, was the Spanish government's management, redistribution, and liquidation of the Jesuit assets during 1767-1820. As a result of those processes, hundreds of the best real and improved properties in Spanish America changed hands and millions of pesos were siphoned to Spain from overseas.

A significant but largely overlooked phenomenon in twentieth-century Latin America has been the extended dominance of a single region over an entire nation. To one degree or another this type of regionalism has existed in several countries, including revolutionary Mexico, with the rise of the North and the Sonora Dynasty, and Brazil, with the control of national politics by the São Paulo-Minas Gerais axis from the 1890’s to 1930, followed by the rise of Rio Grande do Sul. In the following pages I will examine this type of regionalism as it occurred in Venezuela, in the form of Táchiran dominance over the government and armed forces for the first forty-five years of this century. My purpose is to explain how the men of one small agricultural state could maintain such long-term mastery over the country, what sort of reaction this “hegemony” produced, what the limits of regional control were, and, finally, when Táchiran rule definitively ended.

During the second half of the nineteenth century Argentina was transformed from a sparsely populated, backward, and disunited community of provinces into a nation along European lines. The demands for economic development, a larger and better educated population, and the centralization of the state on a constitutional and legal basis were the greatest problems its leaders would have to face. Chief among constitutional hurdles was the hostility between the forces demanding autonomy for the province of Buenos Aires led by Adolfo Alsina (Partido Autonomista) and those representing national unity (Partido Nacionalista) following Bartolomé Mitre, the first president of a united Argentina (1862-68).

During the first six decades of Colombia's existence as an independent nation, it experienced five major revolutions (1839-42, 1854, 1859-62, 1876-77, 1885-86) as well as innumerable uprisings confined to specific regions or localities. Although only one of these major revolutions was successful in its objective of overthrowing the government, all of them were destructive of lives and property and seriously disrupted plans for economic develpoment. None of them, however, had such devastating effects as the War of the Thousand Days (1899-1902). This vain struggle by Liberal revolutionaries to overthrow a Conservative-dominated government began only after years of debate among Liberals on the wisdom of attempting to attain political power by force and in defiance of the wishes of the party's top leaders. The events that culminated in the outbreak of the revolution will be traced in the following pages.

In the middle of the seventeenth century a Spanish adventurer, dressed in a traditional Andean cusma tunic and wearing a silver diadem, convinced tens of thousands of Indians in a remote part of the viceroyalty of Peru that he was a direct descendant of the former Inca emperors. More than a hundred native chiefs accepted him as their overlord, carried him on a litter, furnished maidens for his service, and followed him in battle when he promised to liberate them from Spanish control. Although Indian rebellions occurred frequently in colonial Peru, this particular one is unique because a European led it. Initially this imposter secured approval for his actions from the Spanish provincial governor and Jesuit missionaries, but later.when the Indians rebelled, the fake Inca was apprehended, imprisoned for seven years, then hanged. The story of his “empire” is a ten year episode that has not been printed in English and is not widely known in Spanish.

September, 1975 marks the 200th anniversary of the formal opening of the Monte de Piedad, one of the oldest continuously operating social welfare institutions in America. Conceived and endowed by Pedro Romero de Terreros, Count of Regla, the Monte de Piedad represented only one facet, albeit the most important, of the philanthropic contributions of this wealthy miner, merchant and landowner. His benefactions ranged from the small to the grand—the construction of an altar in the church of San Fernando to the gifting of a battleship to the Spanish navy.

In Shakespeare’s play, Pericles, the leading character interrogates a woman whom he does not know is actually his daughter, Marina. In his excitement, King Pericles asks:

Whereupon Marina replies:

How ironic that Shakespeare’s Marina bears a resemblance to the well-known Aztec princess, Malinche, also known as Marina. For the researcher engaged in telling the history of Malinche, there exists an inherent case of mistaken identity in particular indices and annotations to documents that are relevant to her history—a mistake as perplexing and deceptive as if to “seem like lies disdained in the reporting,”

Labor questions put their indelible stamp on colonial life, whether in Brazil, Spanish America, or the North American colonies. Methods of labor recruitment varied among these regions, however, as did the social consequences of enslavement, race mixture, and destruction or modification of native cultures.

The poverty of the Amazon region, the old state of Maranhão e Grão Pará, prevented a system of black slavery such as characterized the Brazilian Northeast. Indians, whether slave, or held as free men in mission villages, dominated the labor market. The perennial lay-ecclesiastical fight for jurisdiction over the Indian has been vividly documented by historians such as Boxer, Kiemen, and Leite. This ground need not be retraced. What may be of interest is to examine the variety of sources from which labor was supplied to the plantations, cities, and fortresses of Maranhão e Grão Pará during the first half of the eighteenth century, just before the disruptions brought by Pombal's reforms.

Scholars have paid considerable attention to the famous goodwill mission of Dwight Whitney Morrow to Mexico in 1927, but have written almost nothing about the conditions which necessitated it. An in-depth study of Morrow’s predecessor, James Rockwell Sheffield, whose ambassadorship (1924–27) featured a deterioration in Mexican-American relations, has yet to be published. During Sheffield’s tenure the administration of Plutarco Elías Calles made the strongest attempt to that time to implement the revolutionary program of “Mexico for the Mexicans” embodied in the Constitution of 1917. Especially alarming to Americans was legislation aimed at limiting foreign land-holding and severely restricting the privileges of foreign petroleum interests. These laws precipitated a prolonged diplomatic correspondence and generated considerable ill-will. This correspondence reached a complete impasse by the spring of 1926 since neither side was willing to compromise its position. The re-emergence of the perennial church-state conflict as well as Mexican opposition to American policies in Nicaragua further convulsed relations.

Revolution in Latin America has become a sufficiently frequent occurrence to be subject to stereotypes which can cause misinterpretation. All too often an uprising is discussed in general terms, without assiduous scrutiny of the particulars, resulting in unconscious assumptions based upon stereotyped notions regarding similar movements elsewhere. The result is that important factors can be overlooked, as general principles obscure the facts and the peculiarities of the local situation. The idea that social revolution involves a confrontation between civilian reformers and military dictators has become one of the standard bromides applied to such events.

A Social History of colonial Latin America should endeavor to trace the patterns of behavior of the various social groups within the society. Group behavior can be viewed from a number of different perspectives. Among the more important variables are political behavior, economic behavior, social behavior and religious behavior. Religious participation and involvement is one of the more interesting of these variables, especially in Latin America, where the Catholic Church has traditionally been a social institution powerfully affecting all others. The Church and the upper social groups have often functioned in a symbiotic relationship one to another, with the Church providing a measure of social prestige and temporal power in exchange for economic and/or political support. This essay, based on a study of 178 wholesale merchants, seeks to interpret the relationships established between the Church and the economically and socially powerful merchant group in late eighteenth century Buenos Aires. At the same time, the essay attempts to illustrate that in studying the religious participation of a specific social group, the role of religion as an indicator of social prestige and power becomes dramatically apparent.

Recognising the failure to assimilate the Trinidad Indians to Spanish culture, the king of Spain in 1686 asked the Capuchin Order to undertake a mission to Trinidad so that the “Indians may learn to live a quiet and civilized life.” Eight Capuchin priests under Fr. Thomas de Barcelona arrived in 1687 and founded four missions; two in Naparima, one in San Fernando, and one in Savana Grande. They built their villages following a uniform plan: “A perfect square is traced on the ground and all the Indian ajoupas are built on three sides, north, south, and west of the streets … the eastern side of the mission is taken up by the church, the mission house and other buildings for the use of the priests.”

The Bourbon reforms of the late eighteenth century are important in understanding the fiscal, economic, and political structure both prior to and following the independence of Latin America. Although these measures have been generally analyzed in great detail, the decrees and compliance with them varied from region to region. This becomes quite obvious when one views Central America during the period. Considered a “backwater colony” by contemporary historians, the Reino de Guatemala still was strongly affected by fiscal reforms and subsequent political changes. An inordinately strong merchant class controlled not only commerce, but equally prices, trade regulations, and tax collection. The area was more a fief than a kingdom, with Spanish and Guatemalan merchants ruling over the Central American domain. The new Bourbon measures represented more than an attempt to gather additional fiscal resources, but to actually regain that sovereignty which earlier Spanish monarchs allowed to dwindle.

Scholars are presently re-examining the status of creoles in Spanish colonial administration at the end of the eighteenth century. All historians accept that the Crown discriminated against Americans but the degree and effect of that prejudice is the subject of much current research. Most have rejected Bolívar's sweeping generalization that Spain excluded Americans from all responsible positions, but few agree on the extent of creole participation. Recent studies suggest that creoles held more high positions than had been suspected. These studies further suggest that a new interpretation of the effect of creoles on administration and the independence movement is overdue. The road to this synthesis must be paved with case studies of individuals.

American intervention in Mexico during 1916 produced a series of crises which carried the two countries to the brink of total war. Though full-scale confrontation was narrowly averted, United States-Mexican relations suffered in following decades because of the friction produced during that period. American historians have frequently treated the events of that year with blatant defense of President Woodrow Wilson or, at worst, a judgement that hostilities arose because of unfortunate misunderstandings between national leaders. In this age when some scholars have reoriented their thinking about Wilson’s World War I policy, it seems both fair and necessary to reexamine his Mexican program.

On the eve of the American Revolution colonial trade with the islands of the British West Indies had reached considerable proportions. Close to 40% of the ships leaving the ports of New York and Boston alone sailed directly to the English possessions in the Caribbean, and an estimated 500 sloops and schooners were involved in both direct and indirect commerce. The year 1767 saw a total of 2000 vessels cleared through American ports for the West Indies.

The landowners in the West Indies were highly dependent upon the American colonies for supplies of foodstuffs (including livestock) and lumber. Therefore agricultural America had an outlet for its primary products, while the West Indian planter had a steady market for his sugar economy. In effect the trade with the BWI had become, on the eve of the Declaration of Independence, a cornerstone of American commerce. The importance of this trade can, and has, been documented. But no better than by the remark of Paul Revere shortly after the famous midnight ride. Traveling through the major commercial areas of New England, Revere reported “a sentiment in favor of Congress, so constituted, in order to place a restriction on the trade of the West Indies.” Actually the colonies were not about to injure this trade. After Boston harbor was shut down, John Adams remarked that its commerce was “an essential link in a vast chain, which has made New England what it is, the southern provinces what they are, the West India islands what they are.”

Three Weeks before the fall of Mexico City and the final victory over its conservative adversaries, the liberal government of Benito Juárez issued a law, on December 4, 1860, establishing freedom of religion in Mexico. Such a law had been a liberal objective throughout the early Reforma period and during the War of the Reform as well. In mid-1859 the Juárez government had issued a manifesto which stated that religious toleration was a requirement for national prosperity. The liberals saw toleration as an important precondition for foreign immigration—and immigration had been an established panacea for national problems since the achievement of independence in 1821. The 1860 law served to vindicate part of the Reforma program. It also sought to resolve almost four decades of debate on the relationship between foreigners, immigration, and religious toleration.

At the end of the eighteenth century, Guanajuato was one of the richest and most cultured provincial cities in New Spain. Mining had for years been a source of wealth, and the provincial aristocracy of Guanajuato could easily compete both in culture and in gracious living with the upper classes of viceregal Mexico. The Alamán family belonged to that upper circle of Guanajuato. They were wealthy and, on their maternal side, their ancestry sprang from the better houses of Castile. When, in 1792, the first male child was born to the family, he was christened in the best aristocratic tradition, for he was baptized Lucas Ignacio José Joaquín Pedro de Alcantara Juan Bautista Francisco de Paula Alamán.

There is neither lake nor river in Columbus, New Mexico, now nor was there on March 9, 1916, when it was raided by Mexican bandits. The muddied waters are those of history as the events that took place over 59 years ago are almost as cloudy today as the day they occurred. Many questions about the raid remain unanswered: Was Pancho Villa at Columbus? If so, did he enter the town? How many Mexicans took part in the raid? However, the question that has concerned the amateur and professional historian of Mexico, the United States, and Germany is why did the raid take place? What was the greater importance of the raid? Most of these questions cannot be adequately answered without an examination of the political and military career of Francisco Villa, the recent and contemporary American viewpoint of Villa, and some salient events that preceded March 9, 1916.