Day after day Bartholomé Las Casas sat in the garden of the Dominican monastery at San Domingo, sad and dejected. As he thought of his years of struggle and realized with bitter grief that he had nothing to show for it all, doubts assailed him, and he accused himself of having rashly undertaken work to which he had not been called. He might, indeed, have gone to Spain again and received help to carry out his plans; but he had not the courage. His heart was like water within him.
Nor was he encouraged to go on by his friends the monks. They greatly desired to have him among their number, and urged him strongly to give up the fight and enter the brotherhood,—which at last he did. The Dominicans rejoiced greatly as did his enemies in the colonies, for they thought they were surely now rid of the man who had caused them so much trouble. And so they were,—for a time.
Seven or eight years went by, and Bartholomé Las Casas was seldom heard of outside the convent walls. He was not even allowed to preach for five years, but during this time of seclusion he was recovering his strength of body and soul for the work of the future; and though he was silent, he did not forget, for a part of the time he was at work on his "History of the Indies," in which he related the cruelties that had been inflicted upon the natives.
At length an event occurred that brought the Protector of the Indians again before the public. The Franciscan monks had educated in their convent a young Indian chief, Enrique by name. This young man had married a beautiful Indian girl and he and the Indians under him had been assigned to a certain Spaniard, as was the custom. This Spanish master took from Enrique first a fine horse and then his young wife. When the Indian complained of this ill-usage he was severely whipped. He then appealed to the authorities, only to receive threats of worse treatment. Seeing that no help was to be got from any one, he gathered his Indians together in the mountains, and managed to collect a quantity of lances and swords and to drill his people in the use of them, so that they held their ground against the troops sent to subdue them.
One of his old teachers from the Franciscan convent went to him to try and persuade him to lay down his arms; but without success. At length a new bishop of San Domingo was sent out, who was also president of the Audiencia, the governing body of the Indies. He had received instructions to subdue this rebellious chief, and after trying in vain to accomplish it, bethought himself of Las Casas, for whom he sent.
Las Casas at once agreed to go and see what he could do, and set off alone into the mountains. When he had been gone several months, the president and council began to feel alarm for his safety; but one day who should appear in the streets of San Domingo but Las Casas himself, leading the rebellious chief by the hand. Great was the wonder and delight of all. He had promised Enrique that if he would submit to Spanish rule and pay tribute, as did all Spanish subjects, neither he nor his Indians should be punished, nor should they ever again be made slaves. This promise was faithfully kept, and Enrique was ever after a loyal subject.
During the eight years that Las Casas had spent in the convent, many important events had taken place in the New World. Cortez had conquered Mexico, Alvarado had conquered Guatemala, Pedrarias had overrun and laid waste Nicaragua, and Pizarro had commenced his conquest of Peru.
About 1528 Las Casas went once more to Spain, to obtain a decree from the King which should prevent the Indians of Peru from being enslaved. While there he preached several times at court, with the old fiery zeal and eloquence. He obtained the royal order and returned with it to Hispaniola. A new prior was about to be sent to the monastery of San Domingo, in Mexico, and with him went Las Casas, intending to go on to Peru, with some brothers of the order, not only to make known the royal commands with regard to the Indians but to found convents in that country. However, this turned out to be impracticable, and after a short stay the party returned to Nicaragua.
King Charles had desired the Bishop of Nicaragua to establish monasteries in his diocese. The arrival of Las Casas and his two companions presenting the opportunity of carrying out the King's wish, the bishop begged them to stay with him, and they consented, and began at once to learn the language of the country.
But Las Casas got into difficulties with the governor by stirring up a formidable opposition to him and preventing him from undertaking an expedition into the interior, which he desired to make. The clerico had good reason for this course, for the most outrageous cruelties had been practiced against the Indians in that province, and he tells us that it had been known to happen that when a body of four thousand Indians had gone with such an expedition to carry burdens, but six returned alive, and that often when an Indian was sick or overcome with weariness and want of food, and could not go on, in order to get the chain free (for they went chained together), his head was cut off and his body thrown aside, without the necessity of stopping the train.
About this time the Bishop of Nicaragua died, and the Bishop of Guatemala urged Las Casas to come into his diocese, as he had only one priest to help him. The feud with the governor having become more violent than ever, it seemed wise to accept this invitation. Therefore, abandoning the convent he had established, Las Casas with all his brethren went into Guatemala, making their home for a time at Santiago, in a convent that had stood vacant for six years.
The first thing these four missionaries,—Las Casas, Luis Cancer, Pedro de Angula, and Rodrigo de Larada,—had to do was to learn the language of the country, which was called the Quichi. It was no easy task, for none of them were young,—Las Casas, their prior, being now sixty-one years of age. The Bishop of Guatemala, a great scholar, was their teacher, and day after day this little company of monks might have been seen, sitting with the Bishop, like boys at school, learning conjugations and declensions.
Las Casas was also busy writing a book,—which, however, was never published,—in which he tried to show that the only way to convert men was to convince the mind by reasoning and win the heart by gentleness. The authorities of the province laughed at him and challenged him to try it, by declaring that if he succeeded in subduing any tribe by these methods, they would at once set free their slaves. Las Casas boldly took up the challenge and selected for the trial a part of the country called "The Land of War."[1]
Alvarado had carried on a terrible war in Guatemala. Thousands of Indians had been killed, tortured, and made slaves. The people of the district where Las Casas intended to try his experiment were a hardy, warlike race, and their country was a land of steep mountains, deep ravines, and many furious mountain torrents. They had fought desperately for their liberty. Three times the Spaniards had attempted to conquer them, and each time had been driven back. They were a terror to the white men, and not a Spaniard dared to go near them. It was rightly named The Land of War. Yet it was these turbulent, unconquerable people whom Las Casas now declared he would Christianize and make subject to Spanish rule. He would take no soldiers with him and would accept no aid of any kind. All that he asked was that when his work should be accomplished, they might be left free, only paying tribute, as all subjects did, to the crown. To this the governor of Guatemala agreed.
By this time the fathers could both write and speak the Quichi language well, and they went to work to compose in verse an account of the creation, the fall of man, the birth, life, and miracles of our Lord, and His death upon the cross. These verses they set to music, for the Indians were fond of songs.
There were certain Christian Indians that traded with the people in the Land of War, going to them at regular intervals. The fathers chose some of these traders and taught them the songs. They learned very quickly, and also played an accompaniment on their musical instruments. When they were ready they started, with an assortment of all kinds of articles such as the Indians particularly liked,—knives, scissors, little looking-glasses, and so on.
As they had been instructed, the four peddlers went first to a great native prince. His people all came flocking to buy, and when the business of the day was over, they took pains to win his favor by making him a present.
After supper they took out their musical instruments and began to play and chant the verses they had learned. Hundreds of dusky warriors, attracted by the sweet strains, sat about in the moonlight and listened.
Next night many more natives came, and when the song was ended, the chief asked to have it explained. This was just the opportunity the traders had been waiting for. They told the chief that they sang only what they had heard, and that only the padres could explain the verses.
"Who are the padres?" asked the chief. In answer to this question, they told him they were men who dressed always in white and black, wore their hair like a garland about the head, did not eat meat, never married, did not seek for gold, and sang the praises of God day and night.
The chief was much struck by this description, especially by the fact that the padres did not seek gold, his experience with Spaniards being that they loved gold above everything else in the world, and that all the miseries the Indians had suffered at their hands had been caused by their insane desire to possess it.
At last, though it was a difficult matter to persuade these Indians to allow any Spaniard to enter their country, they decided to send the young brother of the chief out with the traders, and if he should find these padres all that had been represented, he was to invite them to come and tell them of their religion.
Great was the joy in the little convent when they saw the prince coming with the Indian traders. They did their best to make him welcome, and after a few days, when he was ready to return, Father Luis Cancer was sent with him.
What was the good father's astonishment to find crowds of people coming to meet him, arches erected for him to pass under, and the roads swept before his feet!
The Indians built a church for him at once,—made of the trunks of trees, roofed with palmetto leaves,—and all came, wondering and admiring, to see what he would do.
Faithfully he taught them, until the chief accepted Christianity, with his own hands overthrew their idols, and was baptized and given the name of Don Juan. His people soon followed his example.
Father Luis also visited other parts of the country, and when he returned, after several months, to his companions there was great rejoicing over the results of his labors.
Las Casas himself now went into The Land of War, taking with him Father Pedro de Angula. Just as they reached Don Juan's town the young prince, his brother, came home from the neighboring district of Coban, bringing with him his bride, a princess of that tribe. With him were a number of the Coban princes. There were great festivities for many days, but in the midst of the rejoicing the Coban princes, angry that the bridegroom's family and tribe had become Christians, secretly stirred up some of the people to burn the church, managing carefully to conceal their own share in the matter. Don Juan at once rebuilt the edifice, however, and no other unpleasant incident occurred during the whole stay of the Spaniards in the country.
While in The Land of War Las Casas went further north, and whenever he returned was always welcomed. As the people became Christian, he realized that in order to teach them, it would be necessary to get them together in towns, where many could be reached by one man. After much difficulty, this was accomplished and several such towns were built, Don Juan's town being called Rabinal.
After a time Las Casas sent for Luis Cancer, who when he came brought with him a contract, signed by the governor, securing the practical independence of the Indians of The Land of War.
Word now reached Las Casas that both the Bishop of Guatemala and Alvarado had come to Santiago, and he resolved to go down and meet them. He wished Don Juan to accompany him, and this the chief was quite willing to do, but wanted to take something like an army with him, and was with difficulty persuaded to have only such a retinue as would serve to show his rank and importance.
Father Ladrada, the only monk left at the convent, on being notified that all these visitors were coming, built more huts, put up tents, and laid in a store of provisions for their entertainment. Immediately upon their arrival, the Bishop came to the monastery and had a long conversation with the prince. So much struck was he with the Indian's knowledge of the Christian faith, and with his dignity and intelligence, that he asked Alvarado to come and see him also. Although this great captain held the life of an Indian of no more worth than that of a dog, yet he was so pleased with the prince, that wanting to make him a present, but having nothing with him for that purpose, he took off his own red velvet cap and placed it upon Don Juan's head.
They took their distinguished visitor about the town, having first asked the merchants to make their shops as attractive as possible and, if the prince expressed a fancy for any article, to let him have it and send the bill to the Bishop. Don Juan, however, preserved his Indian stolidity, viewing the displays with perfect gravity, and neither showing surprise nor expressing admiration. Only once did he remark upon anything that he saw. He asked about a picture of the Virgin Mary, which was displayed in one of the shops, and when it was offered to him accepted it, afterwards placing it in his chapel at Rabinal.
Las Casas and Father Ladrada went back with Don Juan, intending to go further north into the district of Coban for the purpose of establishing there a permanent mission among the natives.
In 1538 the Bishop of Guatemala sent for all the Dominicans, to consult with him about securing more workers. At this council it was decided to send Las Casas to Spain to plead for more Dominicans and Franciscans to come out. He took with him Father Ladrada and Father Luis Cancer, whose Indian converts were greatly grieved to part with them; but the clerico comforted them with the promise of a speedy return.
[1] "Tierra de Guerra," The Land of War, was located in the present state of Vera Paz, in northern Guatemala.
Charles V was in Germany when the little company arrived in Madrid, but Las Casas found many old friends, and at once set about his business with his usual zeal and energy. When he was not preaching, interviewing officials, traveling, or busy in some way about matters concerning his beloved Indians, he was writing a book, "The Destruction of the Indies," which, however, was not published until twelve years afterward.
The clerico's old opponent, Bishop Fonseca, was dead, and there was now a much better spirit in the council, so that it proved easier than ever before for him to secure the legislation he desired. The Pope had also recently issued a Bull forbidding all good Catholic subjects to make slaves of the Indians, and this was a great help to Las Casas. Some new laws were passed for their benefit, among them one that forbade any lay Spaniards to enter The Land of War for five years. This royal order was solemnly proclaimed, at Las Casas' request, from the steps of the cathedral of Seville.
And now, his business being finished and the Franciscan and Dominican monks he had procured for Guatemala being ready to sail, Las Casas prepared to start back to the New World; but at the last moment he was detained by the president of the Council of the Indies, who needed the clerico's advice. The Dominicans were kept back with him, as he was their vicar-general, but the Franciscans went, and with them Father Luis Cancer, taking with him a copy of the new laws. These laws were a great triumph for Las Casas, and their acceptance was due to his wonderful personal influence.
The clerico was now seventy years old. He had crossed the ocean twelve times. Four times he had gone to Germany to see the Emperor, and we must remember that traveling then was a much more difficult and unpleasant experience than anything we can conceive of now. In his case poverty made it still more of a hardship. But none of these things mattered to this earnest "apostle" if only he could lighten the hard lot of those for whom he labored and suffered.
One Sunday evening, while he was in Barcelona, the Emperor's secretary called on him to tell him that it was the royal wish to make him Bishop of Cuzco, the largest and richest of all the dioceses in the New World. But Las Casas would accept no reward for his work, and for fear he should be urged, he left Barcelona. Not long after, however, the diocese of Chiapa[2] was established, and the bishop appointed to it having died on his way out, this bishopric was offered to Las Casas. In contrast with the bishopric of Cuzco, it was the poorest in the New World,—so poor indeed that the Emperor had to help out the salary of the bishop with a royal grant. Such a field, however, appealed far more to the Protector of the Indians than the former one, and he accepted the offer and was consecrated in Seville on the 8th of March, 1544, and at once prepared to leave, taking with him forty-four Dominicans. The voyage proved to be a very trying and dangerous one, but at length the holy men arrived at San Domingo. The Dominicans came to meet the Bishop and his companions and escorted them to the monastery, and the Te Deum was sung in the church, in thanksgiving for their escape from so many perils.
Hardly any in San Domingo, except the Dominicans, were glad to see the protector of the Indians. The new laws were regarded as the ruin of the colonies. Indignation meetings were held, and it was determined to boycott the monks. This was a very serious calamity to the Dominicans, for as they, like the Franciscans, belonged to what were known as the mendicant orders, and depended for their daily bread upon what they could beg, they were reduced to extremity.
Prayer was offered in the church night and day, and very soon the Franciscans began secretly to send the Dominicans food from what they themselves received, and an old negro woman offered to make a round every day of the houses where there were people that did not share the evil spirit of the rest of the town, and so their necessity was relieved.
In spite of this condition of things, Las Casas went before the Audiencia, and in the name of the King, summoned them to set free the Indians. But Spanish subjects had a right to protest against any new laws if they so desired, and when this was done, the laws were not enforced until the protest had been either accepted or rejected.
Meanwhile, Las Casas himself wrote to the Emperor, and both he and others of the Dominicans preached constantly against slavery and the wrongs done the Indians. Naturally, these sermons increased the hatred against them. In the midst of these troubles, however, the friars were astonished and delighted to receive a visit one day from a rich widow, said to be the richest person in the colony, who came to tell them that their sermons had convinced her that it was a sin to hold the Indians in bondage, and she had resolved to free hers (she had more than two hundred); and because she now felt that her money had been made wrongly, she was about to make over her plantation to the order. This caused a great sensation in the town. Then, too, seeing the Dominicans holding to their convictions, directly against their own interests, after a time made many people rather ashamed of themselves, and little by little the hostility died away, so that when the time came for Las Casas and his monks to leave, some of the Spaniards even expressed regret.
They sailed early in December, and this voyage also proved a trying one. It was very stormy, and their pilot turned out to be so ignorant that the Bishop himself had to take the wheel; for this truly wonderful man could sail a ship, work a plantation, write books, plead a case in court, perform the duties of a bishop, and at the same time fight unceasingly for the oppressed.
The returning Dominicans had a terrible trip, and it was January before they landed at the port of Lazaro, in his own diocese. The Spaniards and the Christian Indians came out at once to the ship to greet the Bishop. It must have been a queer crowd: Proud, stately Spaniards, in velvets and laces; blanketed Indians, silent and stolid; naked heathens, eager to see the man whom they knew as their protector! But Las Casas was glad to see them all, and leaving the ship, they all went up together to the church, where after the service the Spaniards came to kiss the episcopal ring, and after them the Indians.
At first the Bishop was received with politeness and apparent kindness, but in spite of this all the Spaniards were resolved to resist the new laws and not to acknowledge Las Casas as their Bishop nor pay him their tithes. This was very awkward, for Las Casas found himself thus unable to pay the captain of the ship in which he and the monks had come, but the friars sold a part of the goods they had brought with them, the parish priest loaned the Bishop some money, and he gave his note for the rest. So that difficulty was settled.
Their troubles had only begun, however. It was not a great distance to Ciudad Real, where they wished to go, but it was impossible to carry their provisions and the equipment for the church by land, so they loaded their baggage on an old, flat-bottomed boat, to go by sea; and twelve of the fathers, with a number of others, went in it. Two days later the Bishop and the rest were ready to sail on a faster boat; but just as they were about to embark, word came that the other boat had been wrecked and nine of the fathers and twenty-seven laymen drowned. Those who had been saved were staying in an Indian village near the shore, and everything they possessed had been lost.
The remaining monks were so alarmed that at first they refused to go by sea, but Las Casas finally persuaded them that, as the skies were clear and their boat a strong, new one, they were in no danger, and the party set out. It was a very sad and downcast little body of men, however. All one night and day they sat, without eating or speaking. When they reached the place where the other boat had been wrecked, the captain pointed out the spot, and the Bishop recited the prayers for the dead. Then he ordered food to be prepared, called them all to come to the table, and set the example by himself eating and talking cheerfully all the time, until his companions' courage was restored.
A gale coming up, the party took refuge behind an island, where they lay for a long time before they could go on; and then, because some of them were still afraid, they divided into two bodies,—the Bishop, his faithful friend and constant companion, Father Ladrada, and two other monks, remaining on the boat, and the rest proceeding by land.
The town of Chiapa was the Indian town of the diocese; Ciudad Real, the Spanish town. It was to the latter that the Bishop went first. The people received him cordially and showed him every outward form of respect. He found but few priests in the whole diocese, four of them in and about Ciudad Real. Of these, one was quite young and had no particular charge, one traveled about from one town to another, baptizing the Indians for the money it brought him; one was a partner in a sugar plantation and spent more time attending to this business than to his clerical duties, and another collected from the owners of plantations and slaves taxes and tribute paid to the crown. The Bishop took all these into his house, to keep them in order, paying them a small salary and giving them their meals at his own table.
Las Casas' manner of living as a bishop was no different from that which he had practiced as a simple monk. His habit was rusty and patched and he ate no meat, though it was provided for his guests: his forks and spoons were of wood, and the dishes of plain earthenware. This simple mode of life did not suit the priests, and two of them left his diocese.
All day Las Casas attended to the work of the diocese, and late into the night he studied and wrote. At all times the Indians had free access to him, coming to him with all their sorrows. Every day they would crowd about him, their faces swollen with weeping and, kissing the hem of his robe, would pour out to him the story of the cruelties from which they suffered. The good Bishop suffered with them and often would be heard in the night, sighing and groaning in his room.
Las Casas preached constantly against the enslaving of the Indians, and rebuked the holders of slaves for their disregard of the new laws. He ordered his clergy to refuse absolution and the sacraments to those who would not obey, which order aroused the anger of the whole community against him. His Dean disobeyed him and sided with the colonists. He was petitioned, threatened, and abused. The children were taught couplets against him, which they sang after him in the street. Some one even discharged a gun into the window of his room one night, to frighten him. All support was withdrawn from the Dominicans, and the Bishop's salary was not paid.
Finally the Bishop arrested the Dean. In those days, when the Roman Church was so powerful, bishops had a kind of episcopal marshal, and usually there was also an episcopal jail, where ecclesiastical offenders were confined. This arrest of the Dean stirred up a great commotion. A crowd of people gathered around him, and he made a frantic effort to escape, crying out:
"Help me! Gentlemen, help me!"
And he voiced all sorts of promises, if they would assist him. The citizens being armed, in a few minutes the Dean was free; whereupon sentinels were set at all the doors of the monastery, to prevent the monks from going to the assistance of their Bishop, and a shouting mob forced its way into his house.
One of the Dominicans and a knight of Salamanca, who chanced to be there, met the riotous crowd and managed to quiet the tumult a little; but the leaders burst into the Bishop's room, shouting at him, insulting him, and even threatening to kill him.
Las Casas spoke not a word, but stood calmly looking at them until the storm had spent itself, when quietly, with words of pity and forgiveness, he dismissed them.
He now excommunicated the Dean. The monks were greatly alarmed for the Bishop's life and begged him to leave and go to some place of safety, but he said to them:
"Fathers, where would you have me go! Where shall I be safe as long as I act in behalf of these poor creatures? Were the cause mine, I would drop it with pleasure, but it is that of my flock, of these miserable Indians, oppressed by unjust slavery."
While they were talking, four other Dominicans rushed in to tell the Bishop that the man who had threatened to kill him,—the one that had fired the shot to frighten him,—had been stabbed. At once Las Casas rose, and sending for a surgeon and taking some of the brothers with him, went to minister to the injured man. For hours they worked over him, the Bishop ministering to him as to a brother; and so touched was the man that he begged Las Casas' forgiveness with all his heart, and was from that day one of the clerico's warmest friends.
The Bishop's salary was now refused him, all alms withdrawn from the Dominicans, and when Indians were sent out into the province to beg for them, the Spaniards seized whatever was brought in, and gave the bearers a sound beating into the bargain, so that it was impossible to obtain food in this way.
It now became absolutely impossible for the monks to live any longer in Ciudad Real, and it was decided to go to the Indian town of Chiapa and build a convent there; but before leaving the Bishop preached a sermon in which the people were told plainly that it was because of the hardness of their hearts and their sin in persisting to keep the Indians as slaves, after the Dominicans had shown them the evil of it, that the friars were going away.
[2] Chiapa, the diocese of Las Casas, is now the Mexican State of Chiapas, the southernmost State of Mexico, bordering on the present Republic of Guatemala.
The Bishop and the monks now departed from the Spanish town and took up their residence in Chiapa. Some distance outside the town they found a number of Indians waiting for them, gayly dressed, decorated with golden chains and bracelets, and carrying crosses made of feathers and flowers. As soon as Las Casas was conducted to the house made ready for him, the Indians began to come in from all the country round, begging to be taught the Christian religion. Joy filled the heart of the good Bishop. Such a scene made up for all the torments and insults he had suffered at the hands of his own countrymen.
Happy as he was, however, at this readiness on the natives' part to accept the gospel message, the tales of suffering they poured into his ears wrung his heart. All over the province women were stolen, property taken away, and the helpless Indians bought and sold like cattle,—overworked, beaten and starved, until they died and so, at last, found peace.
The Bishop could not get the new laws enforced. No attention was paid either to his entreaties or his threats, so at length,—in June, 1545,—he determined to go to Gracias á Dios, and present the matter to the council governing the country, demanding that they compel obedience to the royal mandate.
He took the road through Guatemala, in order to visit again "The Land of War," now a land of peace. It was a wonderful encouragement to him to find the Indians living peaceful, orderly, Christian lives, unmolested and happy. Great numbers of them came to greet him with tears of joy, and if he had needed any proof of the wisdom of his method of Christianizing the Indians, he found it in the transformation that had taken place all through the district.
To all who came, Las Casas spoke in their own language, giving to them the royal command, signed by the Emperor, that they should never be anything but a free people.
The Bishop of Guatemala went with Las Casas to visit The Land of War, and had intended to go with him to Gracias á Dios, where they were both to assist in the consecration of a new bishop of Nicaragua. Learning, however, that the Protector of the Indians was going principally to insist upon the enforcement of the new laws, and that a letter had been written to Prince Philip, heir to the throne, informing him that he, the Bishop of Guatemala, had many slaves and did not uphold these laws either in practice or in teaching, he turned back and returned to his own diocese, and from a warm friend he became one of the Bishop's enemies.
The journey to Gracias á Dios was a difficult and dangerous one at that season of the year. All such journeys were of course made on foot, and the streams that had to be crossed were swollen and turbulent from the violent rains, which had also in some cases destroyed the roads; but we never hear that Las Casas in all his life ever once gave up or delayed a trip either because of ill health or dangers in the way. Now, at seventy-one, he had all the endurance and energy of youth.
Immediately upon his arrival he went before the council, but met with nothing but insults. One day as he came in, an officer cried out:
"Put out that fool!"
On another occasion, having been commanded to withdraw, Las Casas refused to do so, and the president ordered him to be removed by force. The Bishop solemnly summoned the judges, in the name of God, to relieve the Indians from oppression and remove the stumbling blocks their tyranny was putting in the way of Christianizing them. At this the chief justice lost his temper and shouted:
"You are a bad man, a cheat, a bad bishop, a shameful fellow, and deserve to be punished!"
Such language used by a Spanish official toward a bishop in those days, when the Roman Catholic Church had so great an influence upon the nation, startled even those most hostile to Las Casas. The chief justice found himself regarded by the whole community as practically excommunicated because of this rash speech, and was obliged to make a sort of half-hearted apology for having so spoken.
Las Casas was not only a Bishop but, by training and experience at the court of Spain, one of the foremost lawyers of his time; and now, seeing that he could obtain nothing from the judges by peaceful means, he instituted legal proceedings against them. This accomplished some good, for an auditor was sent by them to Ciudad Real, to see to the enforcement of the new laws, and the inhabitants of that place were notified of his coming by letter.
When the notice was received, at once the tocsin was rung, and when all the citizens were gathered together, a protest was read, stating that the Bishop had taken possession of his see without showing the papal bulls or the royal decree authorizing him to do so, and declaring that he must cease his innovations and do as other bishops did, if he wanted them to pay their tithes and receive him as their bishop.
The inhabitants stationed a body of Indians on the road by which he was to come, to give notice of the approach of Las Casas, and determined to prevent his entrance into the city by force.
The Bishop had sent on his baggage by Indian couriers, but, receiving word of the hostile attitude of the citizens, he recalled them, and stopped at the Dominican monastery in the town of Copanabasta, to consult with the brethren there.
Meanwhile, a lay brother and a gentleman of the town, who was friendly to the Bishop, had gone to his house and removed his books and household goods to a place of safety. The people hearing of this, a mob attacked them at midnight; but they took refuge in the sacristy of the church, where they could not be reached, and at daybreak escaped and got out of the town.
News of all this was brought to the Bishop, and the Dominicans advised him not to go on, but he said:
"If I do not go to Ciudad Real, I banish myself from my own church, and it will be said of me with reason, 'The wicked flee when no man pursueth.'"
He added:
"The minds of men change from hour to hour. Is it possible that the mercy of God will permit them to commit so horrible a crime as to murder me? If I do not endeavor to enter my church, how can I complain to the Emperor or the Pope that I have been thrust out of it?"
And he finished by saying:
"My good fathers, trusting in the mercy of God and your fervent prayers, I am resolved to proceed on my journey, as no other alternative is left, without my neglecting my duty."
Then, gathering up the folds of his habit, he set out, calm in the midst of the tears and prayers of those about him.
It was sunset when Las Casas started and late at night when he came upon the Indian sentinels. The report had gone out that the Bishop had given up the attempt to enter the town, and the Indians were therefore off their guard and had fallen asleep. Wakened suddenly by the approach of the Bishop, they fell at his feet when he said gently to them:
"Are you ready to destroy your father?"
Distressed at their position, and overjoyed to see him again, the poor creatures knelt before him, begging his forgiveness and pouring out with tears their love for him.
Las Casas was afraid that the Indians would be punished for failing to give notice of his arrival, so, with his own hands he, assisted by one of the fathers, bound them, that it might appear that he had surprised and captured them.
That night there was an earthquake at Ciudad Real, and the citizens said it was because of the Bishop, and that it was only the beginning of the destruction he would bring upon the town.
Entering Ciudad Real about daybreak, Las Casas went immediately to the church and summoned the council to meet him there. They came, followed by all the rest of the citizens, and seated themselves. When the Bishop came in to speak to them, no one rose or showed him any of the usual marks of respect. The notary at once stood up and read the paper the citizens had prepared at the town meeting. The Bishop answered this quietly and courteously, saying that he had no intention of interfering with their property except to prevent sin against God and their neighbor. His gentleness was beginning to make some impression, when one of the council, neither rising nor removing his cap, commenced a violent speech, declaring that the Bishop was but a private individual, and if he wished to speak to them, should have gone to them and not have presumed to summon them to come to him.
Las Casas replied with great dignity:
"Look you, sir; when I wish to ask anything from your estates, I will go to your house and speak to you, but when I have to speak to you concerning God's service and the good of your souls, it is for me to send and call you to come wherever I may be, and if you are Christians you have to come trooping in haste, lest evil fall upon you."
Nobody dared answer this, and the Bishop, rising, immediately withdrew into the sacristy.
There the notary of the council came to him and respectfully presented a petition from the townspeople, asking that they have confessors appointed. The Bishop assented and named two; but these not being acceptable, he chose two others, whose views were not very well known to the people, but whom he knew to be in sympathy with himself. The brother who was with him, not understanding the character of the men he had last appointed and thinking he was yielding to pressure, took hold of his vestments and cried:
"Let your lordship rather die than do this!"
At that a tumult broke out in the church, and the people would have assaulted the speaker, if at that moment two monks of the Order of Mercy had not entered the building and succeeded in getting the Bishop and the offending father out in safety,—taking them to their convent.
Las Casas had walked all night, and the fatigue of the journey and the excitement of this meeting had left him much exhausted, but he was not yet to have rest.
He was seated in his cell, and the monks were giving him some refreshment, when a fearful uproar was heard outside, and the convent was found to be surrounded by armed men. Some of them forced their way into the Bishop's presence. At first there was such a noise that it was impossible to hear what it was all about, but at last it appeared that it was because the Indian sentinels had been bound and treated as prisoners.
Las Casas at once said that he alone was to blame for this, and explained that it was done for fear they should be suspected of favoring him.
Then a storm of abuse broke out against the Bishop, no feeling of respect for his office nor of consideration for his age restraining them.
Meanwhile, while this was going on within, a scene of violence was taking place in the courtyard. The mob attacked the negro who attended the Bishop in all his travels. This negro was of great stature and the Bishop in jest called him Juanillo (Little John). He had traveled three times across the continent with the Bishop, and always carried him in his arms when fording the swollen streams. Juanillo was wounded with a pike thrust and stretched on the ground. The monks rushed out to help him and two of them,—very strong young men,—succeeded in clearing the courtyard.
All this took place before nine o'clock in the morning. By noon there was a revulsion of feeling,—the minds of the citizens had entirely changed. The members of the council came humbly to the convent, asked the Bishop's pardon on their knees, and kissed his hands. They then carried him in festive procession to the house of one of the principal citizens, and sent him costly presents. Finally, they arranged a grand tournament in his honor.
It is doubtful if this sudden change in their treatment of him was especially gratifying to the Bishop, as it indicated fickleness and lack of depth in the people he had come to rule. Indeed neither he nor the monks had been in any way misled by this demonstration as to what was likely to happen in the future. While the peace lasted his adherents made haste to send plenty of provisions to the Bishop's house, lest he be starved out when it was over.
Las Casas was now about to go to Mexico, to attend a meeting of all the bishops in the New World, who were to confer concerning all questions concerning the Indians. While he was making his preparations, Juan Rogel,—the auditor appointed by the council at Gracias á Dios to see to the enforcement of the new laws,—arrived. He listened respectfully to all the Bishop had to say, and then advised him to hasten his departure.
"For," said he, "one of the reasons that has made these laws hateful in the Indies, is the fact that you have had a hand in them."
And Rogel went on to explain that he would be able to act with much more freedom in his absence.
Las Casas recognized the truth of this, and made all haste to get away. He left his diocese just a year after he had entered it.
Although the news had not yet reached him, the Emperor had been obliged practically to revoke the new laws, because of the tumults and rebellions they had caused in his American possessions. We can imagine the Bishop's grief and dismay when he heard of this.
On arriving at the city of Mexico, where the episcopal council was to be held, there was such a tumult that one would have thought a hostile army was about to take possession of the place instead of one poor missionary bishop and four humble monks approaching the walls on foot. The authorities were obliged to write and ask Las Casas to delay his entrance a little, until they could quiet popular excitement.
The Bishop at length came into the city about ten o'clock one morning, and went at once to the Dominican monastery.
The synod or council that Las Casas had come to attend was composed of five or six bishops and the chief theologians and learned men of the colony. Las Casas soon became its leading spirit. Some very bold declarations were made in favor of the Indians, but the question of slavery was very unwillingly touched upon. However, the Viceroy, who was president of the meeting, finally appointed a special council to meet and discuss this matter. The result of the deliberations of both bodies on the subject was that all Indian slaves, except a few renegade rebels, had been enslaved unjustly, and that all personal service imposed upon those that were not slaves was unlawful.
Of course these conclusions could not be forced upon the country; but copies of them were distributed all over the province, in the hope that they might have an effect upon the minds of men.
Las Casas had now fully decided that he could do more for the Indians in Spain than in his diocese, especially as he could be kept constantly informed by the Dominicans as to what was going on. He therefore appointed a Vicar-General to take his place, and sailed from Vera Cruz in 1547, leaving the shores of America for the last time.
Father Luis Cancer and Father Ladrada were both with Las Casas in Spain. One of the first things Las Casas did, with the approval of the Prince, was to organize a missionary expedition to Florida, with Father Luis Cancer at the head of it. There this faithful friend and devoted missionary soon after met his death at the hands of the Indians.
While in Chiapa the Bishop had written a little book of instructions to his clergy. Formal objection to its teachings was laid before the Council of the Indies, and its author was summoned to come before that body and explain himself. This he did to their entire satisfaction, though not to that of his enemies, who engaged the most famous theologian and lawyer in Spain, Juan Ginés Sepulveda, to dispute the position of Las Casas and answer his arguments. Sepulveda had written a treatise upholding the conquest of the New World by war. The Council of the Indies would not allow this book to be published, but Las Casas had asked them to allow it to be submitted to the universities of Salamanca and Alcalá for their opinion. This opinion proved to be against it.
Las Casas now undertook to answer Sepulveda's arguments and defend the freedom of his Indians. The war of words waxed fast and furious, and the controversy attracted so much attention that the Emperor ordered the India Council to assemble at Valladolid, to decide whether a war of conquest might justly be carried on against the Indians. The Emperor himself presided, and Las Casas and Sepulveda argued the question before them all. It appears to have been a drawn battle; but at length the Council decided in favor of Sepulveda. The Emperor and the officials of the government, however, must have been of another opinion, for Sepulveda's book was suppressed. At the time of this controversy Las Casas was seventy-six years old.
Soon after this Las Casas resigned his bishopric and the Emperor granted him a pension. He made his home in the Dominican college of St. Gregory, at Valladolid, where his old friend Father Ladrada was with him.
And now, after having labored for the Indians for so many years, crossing and recrossing the ocean, traveling over hundreds of miles of wild country on foot, like St. Paul, "in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by his own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea," he might be seen, day after day and night after night, sitting at his desk, writing letters, memorials, and pamphlets in defense of his beloved Indians. He kept up a constant correspondence with all parts of the New World, and when he heard of any new outrage on the part of the Spaniards against the natives, he at once brought it to the attention of Prince Philip, now regent of the kingdom.
At the end of the year 1551 a number of Dominicans and Franciscans having been induced through his appeals to go out to the Indies, Las Casas went to Seville to see them off. For some reason they were delayed there for ten months, and during that time he was kept busy editing a number of his works, keeping two printing-presses going all the time.
Las Casas must have had a wonderful constitution. His hard life in a tropical country had neither weakened his body nor impaired his mind. All his time from the day of his return to Spain to the time of his death was spent in defense of the Indians; and through his untiring efforts their condition was much improved in Mexico and elsewhere.
Laws had already been passed which allowed the encomiendas, as the grants of land and Indians in Spanish America were called, to be held in a family only during two lifetimes. They then reverted to the crown. Thus the Indians were being gradually emancipated. There were also officers appointed to protect the interests of the crown in the reversion, so that it was no longer possible to repeat the horrors of Hispaniola.
When Las Casas heard that the proposal had been made to allow the holders of encomiendas to get possession of them in perpetuity, he went at once to the King and succeeded in preventing it. As Fiske says:
"It is worth remembering that pretty much the only praiseworthy thing Philip ever did was done under Las Casas' influence."
The activity of Las Casas was marvelous. His longest work was his "History of the Indies." At the age of ninety he wrote a "Memorial on Peru," said to be one of his best, and two years later, in 1566, he went to Madrid to speak in person for the Indians of Guatemala. He had heard through the Dominicans that that province had been deprived of its governing body, so that the Indians had no chance of justice, having to go to Mexico if they wished to make any appeal. He was successful in this mission, and the Audiencia was restored to Guatemala.
This was the last work of Las Casas. In July of that year, while still in Madrid, he was taken ill and died after a short illness, at the age of ninety-two.
As he lay dying, his brethren, the Dominicans, kneeling about the bed and reciting the prayers for the dying, he begged them to persevere in their defense of the Indians, and asked them to join him in prayer that he might be forgiven any remissness on his part in the fulfillment of his mission. He was beginning to tell them how he came to enter upon this work when his spirit departed.
Thousands of people attended the funeral of Las Casas. He was buried in Madrid, in the convent chapel of "Our Lady of Atocha."
In early American history there is no one who stands on a level with this remarkable man. Many bitter enemies he had, it is true; such a man,—fearless, outspoken, able, never to be silenced when he was convinced of the righteousness of his cause,—was bound to have. Never during the many years of his long life, did the Indians lack a friend to plead in their behalf. Amid the cupidity, cruelty, and injustice of the Spaniards in the New World his character shines like a star in the darkness of night. We can't do better in closing than to quote the words in which Fiske speaks of him:
"In contemplating such a life as that of Las Casas, all words of eulogy seem weak and frivolous. The historian can only bow in reverent awe before a figure which is, in some respects, the most beautiful and sublime in the annals of Christianity since the Apostolic age. When now and then in the course of the centuries God's providence brings such a life into the world, the memory of it must be cherished by mankind as one of its most precious and sacred possessions. For the thoughts, the words, the deeds, of such a man there is no death. The sphere of their influence goes on widening forever. They bud, they blossom, they bear fruit, from age to age."