Given the importance of rural unrest in the destabilizing of Porfirian Mexico, it seems at least ironic to find these words attributed to Díaz during his Tuxtepec revolt. And, given the attention paid to the repressive elements of the Díaz dictatorship, one might easily argue that Díaz never intended to fulfill that promise, vague though it may be. A number of works seem to blame Díaz personally for the land problem which lead to his overthrow. Others maintain that Díaz remained aloof and was isolated from the common people; but by far the greatest number of works employ such amorphous or monolithic concepts as the “State,” the “Díaz regime,” “porjirismo,” or simply “the government” and focus exclusively on evidence of repression in Porfirian Mexico. Repression has attracted attention in part because it has been important in explaining dissatisfaction which lead to the Revolution of 1910 and in part because violence attracted a great deal of attention from contemporaries. This interest provides historians with more accessible sources while evidence of a more conciliatory attitude has remained hidden in the collection of Porfirio Díaz's presidential papers.

Conflicts between Church and State, and between liberals and conservatives over the role of the Church, were a constant feature of nineteenth-century Mesoamerican history. These struggles eventually stripped the Church of much of its wealth, with a consequent decline in its political influence. However, the timing of this disinvestiture, the composition of liberal and conservative factions, and the role of the Church varied substantially throughout Mexico and Central America.

In Mexico, Guatemala, and El Salvador, the Church survived the turmoil of the Independence period, to continue as a major holder of wealth and an important political actor. Notwithstanding repeated royal attacks upon Church prerogatives, and innumerable forced loans levied by both colonial and national authorities against Church wealth, the decisive confrontation between the Church and the Liberal-dominated State in these nations awaited the second half of the nineteenth century.

The Canary archipelago lies off the coast of Africa at 29° N latitude, some 700 nautical miles south of Gibraltar. Its conquest and occupation, including the subjection of the native Guanche population, represented Spain's first overseas venture, a blueprint and precedent for the colonization of America. For nearly a century prior to Columbus the Spanish Crown found here a laboratory and testing ground for colonial administration, including relations with an aboriginal population that offered an irresistible attraction for enslavement and evangelization. The philosophical justification and legitimization of conquest was first faced in the Canaries as a new colonial bureaucracy sought to adapt and refine the medieval, European institutions of government to the new situation. Authority to appoint officials and to distribute land and natives in service was delegated to local governors while exhaustively detailed ordinances formulated by appointed councils (cabildos) regulated every phase of life through a complex structure of regulations, fines and taxes. The model was in place and operative by the time there was need to organize the first Spanish government in the Antilles.

With the exception of the Franciscans pledged to poverty, the major religious orders of colonial Brazil, Carmelites, Benedictines, and Jesuits, all maintained their religious activities and establishments by means of bequests, stipends, loans, urban and rural properties. Any analysis of the economic role of the Church in Brazil normally and justifiably begins with the activities of the Society of Jesus whose extensive properties spread throughout Portuguese America. Unquestionably, their operations were the most extensive of any corporate group or institution in the colony. The other orders, however, were often regionally important and were always an integral part of the economic life of the colony, sharing in the good times and bad along with their secular counterparts. The following article is an attempt to examine the operations of the Benedictine sugar engenhos in Brazil by analyzing previously usused records. These materials not only reveal a great deal about the management of ecclesiastical estates, but also provide one of the few opportunities to analyze the expenses and income of a series of plantations over time, thus allowing us to examine some of the general economic trends in the colony's export history.

Some of the Latin American republics have produced newspapers that rank with the best in the world. In Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Mexico, and Colombia there have been great editors who presided over especially noteworthy journals. Political stability certainly contributed to the development of such papers as La Prensa and La Nación in Buenos Aires and of El Mercurio in Chile. While political stability is a prerequisite for continuous good journalism, freedom of expression, guaranteed by government and jealously guarded by legal institutions, is even more important. Equally important is self-discipline by the press, nowhere more clearly shown than in Chile where the important law of 1872 brought under control abuses that had plagued Chilean journalism for three decades. A free press is incompatible with dictatorial or authoritarian government, a truism amply demonstrated by the Paraguayan experience.

Despite its crucial importance to the development of twentieth century Argentina and the volumes of scholarly, journalistic and partisan exegesis the movement has generated, historians have yet to reach a minimal consensus on the nature of Peronism. In the quarter century since Perón's first fall from power, numerous efforts have been made to explain, glorify or denigrate his regime. Many anti-Peronists have dismissed their bête noire as an unprincipled demagogue, motivated solely by political opportunism and an insatiable desire to retain power. Some supporters of the regime echo its propaganda by picturing Perón as taking the first great strides toward a politically free, economically independent and socially just Argentina. Certain anti-Peronists and a number of foreign commentators grudgingly admit that the movement had political and ideological content, but then label it as an imported fascist interlude, an alien virus that infected the body politic of Argentina just as it neared the end of the long march towards liberal democracy. The London Economist recently described the advent of Peronism as an instant replay of Italian Fascism. “The bulk of his supporters were the lower middle class immigrants who poured into the country from impoverished Italy after the second world war… The new arrivals cheered El Lider as they had cheered Il Duce for two decades. Perón representated the same historical phenomenon as Hitler and Mussolini…”

Within the scope of Mexican history, the subjects of the Church and the Inquisition have long been the focus of emotion, heated controversy, and misplaced value judgments. As a result, a lack of understanding surrounding these institutions has developed, and to a certain extent still exists today. Many authors have placed a heavy emphasis on the role that the Holy Office of the Inquisition played in the persecution of crypto-Jews, despite the fact that the inquisitors concerned themselves far more with more mundane breaches of faith and morals as blasphemy, bigamy, witchcraft, impersonation of priests, and solicitation of women in the confessional. These same writers demonstrate a certain emotional preoccupation with torture and burnings at the stake, phenomena which, while spectacular, occurred infrequently. The continual preoccupation with the theme of inquisitorial persecution of crypto-Jews, furthermore, seems to obscure other important areas of research in colonial Mexican history.

L'Idée, quand elle s'est
completement incorporée à l'être
moral, devient aussi impulsive
que le sentiment, se transforme
on peut dire en sentiment.
— D. Bellegarde.

Louis-Dantès Bellegarde, (1877-1966), is acknowledged generally to have been the most significant and influential diplomat produced by the Republic of Haiti in this century. His first diplomatic assignment came fortuitously at age forty-four, when President Philippe-Sudre Dartiguenave appointed him on an impulse to the Paris legation, the Holy See, and to the League of Nations in 1921. In that period, he also served as a member of the Permanent Court of Arbitration (The Hague), and was the Honorary President of the Second Pan-African Congress held under the aegis of W. E. B. DuBois. Previously, from age twenty-seven, he had occupied high governmental positions at the sub-cabinet and then cabinet level, primarily in the fields of education and agriculture. His formal training had been in law, banking, and commerce. That particular training was to serve him well, but color his perspective. The League's Council named him to the Commission of Slavery and Forced Labour in 1924. In 1927, he was a special guest at the Fourth Pan-African Congress held in New York. Later, in 1930, President Louis-Eugène Roy appointed him anew to France and the League of Nations where again he created a sensation.

Gold and silver production in Honduras probably never exceeded 5% of that produced in Spanish America at any one time during the colonial period, but it was of considerable importance to the local economy and employed a significant proportion of the total workforce. In Spanish America as a whole the types of labour that were employed in mining were extremely varied. During the early Conquest period Indian slaves were used to pan gold in the Antilles, and later Mexican silver mining relied on the employment of free labour supplemented by that of Indian and Negro slaves. In Colombia the repartimiento provided Indians for mining up to 1729, by which time the Indian population and gold production had declined, but in Peru the mita continued to supply labour for the mines until its abolition in 1812, although by that time the mines had become heavily dependent on free labour. The dominant type of labour employed in mining in any one area at any one time appears to have been strongly influenced by the availability of Indian labour, which was largely determined by the size of the Indian population and the number of competing demands for labour, and by the profitability of mining, which determined the ability of miners to overcome shortages of labour. These influences were very apparent in the mining industry in Honduras, where during the colonial period many different types of labour were employed: Indian slaves, Indians working in the service of encomenderos, Negro slaves, Spanish immigrant workers, Indians working under the repartimiento and free labourers.

One of the most important colonial institutions which joined church and society in the Brazilian cities were the lay confraternities which were attached to churches, convents and monasteries. These voluntary associations of laymen and women joined people of all classes and races in common religious activities and social works of mercy. In colonial Brazil there were separate lay associations for different races, although these racially suggested societies might parade together during religious festivals and share side altars in a common church. Free blacks, mulattoes and slaves joined separate religious associations since the white confraternities were very exclusive and discriminatory towards the poorer non-white population. The slave confraternities of the cities of 18th century Brazil were the only lay religious associations in that society which were open to all people regardless of class, race, sex or ethnic background. However as the century wore on some of the black brotherhoods tended to differentiate among themselves according to tribal distinctions, language, social condition and the extent of assimilation in Portuguese America. The larger slave confraternities like the Rosary brotherhood usually had a more diverse membership of free and slave brothers, mulattoes, Creoles and tribal Africans, blacks and whites.

The Spanish American Empire in its last half century of existence experienced an economic resurgence in oceanic shipping and inter-change with Europe. That prosperity, prompted by the reforms of the enlightened Bourbon monarch, Charles III, produced an unexpected result. Non-Spanish immigrants appeared in ever increasing numbers in Spain's American colonies. That immigration, almost always illegal, had always occurred in the colonial era in spite of the many barriers erected to exclude foreigners. Now, searching for economic opportunities, these immigrants participated in the economic revitalization of Spanish America.

For the most part these newcomers posed no threat to the state; and often by virtue of their commercial expertise or skilled labor, were a boon to Spanish American economic life. Unofficially, imperial officials were well aware of this. The major concern, regardless of official statements, was that immigrants profess the Catholic faith. Many of the newcomers soon acquired families in the New World, pursued their own ends, and quietly melded into Spanish American society. Certainly that proved to be the case in the Rio de la Plata. In this vast region, until the creation of the Viceroyalty in 1776, Spanish authority had been loose and the small foreign presence was generally tolerated or just ignored.

In the Latin American context there are few regions which defy the commonly accepted idea of dependent development and the late start of the process of industrial growth following the great crisis of 1929. Among these few, Northeastern Mexico, with its industrial capital Monterrey, appears to offer the best example of a large industrial spurt occurring towards the end of the nineteenth century. During the two decades from 1890 to 1910 important industrial complexes, basically metallurgic and siderurgic factories, began to operate in this region, creating an impressive network of related activities and making possible considerable growth in the local demand for both consumption goods and semi-manufactured items. The statistics on industrial production reveal the importance of the process: during the years 1897,1898 and 1899 the metallurgic sector in Nuevo León produced goods worth 50,847,178 pesos. This represented 23.5% of total Mexican production, making it the most important state in the nation. By 1902, Nuevo León was also in first place as far as total industrial production was concerned, accounting for 13.5% of the national production.

This essay explores the social relations within a landed elite—the dominant class in eighteenth-century Mexico. It aims to outline the nature of the powers that sustained that elite, to determine who directly exercised those powers, and to detail the relations between those pivotal powerholders and the remaining majority of elite class members. My primary concern, then, is the relationship between elite power and class membership.

That, in turn, brings atttention to the roles of elite men and women, and the relations between them. Powerholders were usually men while class membership was shared equally between men and women. Was the internal structure of the elite thus based on sexual stratification? Were men able to be powerful and thus wealthy, while women could be wealthy only through subordination to a powerful man? To a great extent, that was true. But the majority of men within the Mexican elite were also wealthy while subordinate to a powerful man. And in a few notable cases, elite women exercised great power while men and women lived as their dependents. Sex was not the only principle of stratification among late colonial Mexican elites. Rather, sexual differentiation interacted with inequalities primarily based on economic power. This essay attempts to study the relations between economic power and sexual differentiation to approach an understanding of life within the late colonial landed elite in Mexico.

This analysis and survey of economic activities in Rio Grande do Sul aim to shed new light on the crucial importance of the southernmost captaincy to overall Brazilian development at the close of the colonial period. Rio Grande do Sul was unique in economic growth, compared to the Center-South, Northeast and North, because the extreme South produced for a variety of markets: the internal Brazilian, the internal Portuguese, the Portuguese reexport to Europe and the Rio de Janeiro reexport to Angola. This market diversification made Rio Grande do Sul less dependent on the commercial vagaries of any particular geographical area. The focus of this article is the importance of economic growth in Rio Grande do Sul prior to 1808.

For many years, the sudden collapse of the major religious orders in Peru shortly after independence has interested this author. For the religious orders, Lima had been what it was for the viceroy: the center of the organizational structure for most of the continent with the stately conventos and lavishly endowed churches to attest to the importance of that position. Yet, within a relatively short period, 1826-1830, the grandeur faded and the power disappeared. Why?

The Mexican Revolution was predominantly a Northern movement. In part this was a logical continuation of what had occurred during the Díaz regime, namely, the rapid development of the northern tier of Mexican states. But in large measure the rise to prominence of leaders such as Francisco Madero, Pascual Orozco, Francisco Villa, Venustiano Carranza, Alvaro Obregón, and Pablo González reflected the advantage they enjoyed over revolutionaries in other parts of Mexico—access to the American border. Arms and ammunition could be imported, loot to pay for these munitions could be exported, United States territory could be used as a base of operations, and the United States provided a sanctuary for the members of defeated factions. Moreover, since the majority of the population along the border were of Mexican extraction, they inevitably became caught up in the factional struggle, as, for that matter, did many of the Anglos, either out of sympathy or because the Revolution became a lucrative business. Yet despite the extent to which the Revolution spilled over into the United States, we still have but a sketchy knowledge of this phenomenon. Precisely how did Mexican juntas function, how were munitions acquired, how was recruiting conducted, and how was revolutionary activity financed? To understand this critical aspect of the Revolution we need much more work along the lines of David N. Johnson's admirable study of Maderista activities in San Antonio in 1910–1911.

The political legacy of Lázaro Cárdenas is marked by a striking paradox. On the one hand, Cárdenas as president of Mexico from 1934 to 1940 presided over the most radical phase of the Mexican Revolution or what some historians call the “Second Revolution.” He was instrumental in organizing industrial workers and peasants at the national level and incorporating both groups into the reorganized government party, the Partido de la Revolutión Mexicana (PRM), that had as its declared purpose the establishment of a “workers' democracy” in Mexico. Under his leadership the government supported the demands of industrial workers for higher wages and improved working conditions, greatly expanded the distribution of land to the peasantry, established new welfare programs, nationalized the railroad and petroleum industries and inaugurated a program of socialist education in the public schools. The prestige of Cárdenas as the foremost leader of the radical phase of the Revolution was enhanced by the fact that he, unlike many of his contemporaries, never attempted to use political office for personal financial gain; he was not a rich man when he completed his term of office as president. At the time of his death in 1970, Cárdenas was eulogized as “the greatest figure produced by the Revolution… an authentic revolutionary who aspired to the greatness of his country, not personal aggrandizement.” On the other hand, Cárdenas was the architect of the corporatist system of interest representation, including labor, peasant and business organizations, that provided the institutional framework of what Crane Brinton has called the “Thermidor,” i.e., the conservative reaction to the radical phase of the revolutionary process, that began in Mexico in approximately 1940. The institutions developed by Cárdenas were utilized by his successors to curtail the very reforms, such as agrarian and labor reform and socialist education, that had been central to his reform program. Moreover Cárdenas facilitated the transition to a more conservative era by naming as his successor Manuel Ávila Camacho, who was known to favor a moderation of the reform process, rather than Francisco Múgica, the preferred candidate of the radicals in the government. In short, Cárdenas played a decisive role both in presiding over the radical phase of the Revolution and in launching and shaping the relatively conservative post-1940 era. The paradox of the political legacy of Cárdenas is that though the seemingly radical reforms he carried out had a lasting impact upon Mexican politics, the impact was predominantly conservative rather than radical. This essay will endeavor to explain the paradoxical political legacy of Lázaro Cárdenas by focusing upon his ideology, the institutional reforms he carried out while president, and the impact of those reforms after 1940.

Although he lacked express authority to do so Federico Larrañaga used official funds to create, and then sustain, a newspaper in Panamá. He was then the Peruvian Consul General and his journal, named El Canal de Panamá in honor of the then-current effort of De Lessups and his company to open a route across the Isthmus, first appeared in early 1881 and continued to be published under his management until April 1883. Originally designed to be a tri-weekly, published in three languages (Spanish, English, and French), it offered, first in a tri-weekly form and then later in weekly and daily versions, a vigorous rivalry to the long-established Panama Star and Herald, at that time basically an English-language daily with a Spanish section.