Before the establishment of commercial banks in Mexico in the latter half of the nineteenth century, the aspiring merchant or impecunious landowner had few sources from which he could borrow capital. Funds were available within the country but the rich preferred speculation in government bonds and securities to investment in agricultural or industrial enterprises. Financial deals in which enormous interest rates were paid by the government to private individuals became almost a matter of public scandal and were widely condemned by politicians of all parties. The only institution to operate an extensive lending policy was the Roman Catholic Church which, through the offices of its Juzgado de Capellanías, continued after independence its practice of lending money to any person able to provide adequate security for a loan. Although the contractual terms demanded were by no means onerous to the borrower, nevertheless there was much criticism of these fiscal activities by the clergy. The liberals in particular attacked the Church’s control of the land which was a direct consequence of its lending operations. The Church’s defense against these attacks was based firstly on its rights under both civil and canon law, and secondly, on the benefits which the nation’s economy received from the widespread clerical investments. Furthermore, the clergy insisted that they were genuinely interested in utilizing their wealth for the advantage of the people and country as a whole. Hence their funds were invested by way of loans in every kind of industrial and agrarian venture.

During the quarter-century following the conquest of the Aztec Confederacy in 1519–1521, Fernando Cortés, the major figure in that epic achievement of Spanish arms in the New World, acquired a great estate in central and southern México consisting of the tributes and labor services of populous Indian towns, extensive land holdings, mines, Indian and Negro slaves, and business enterprises. In 1529 Charles V conferred upon Cortés the title of Marqués del Valle de Oaxaca, and subsequently these properties and interests were collectively designated in colonial records as the Marquesado de Cortés. The Marquesado, which Cortés, with royal authorization, set up in 1535 as a mayorazgo, or entailed estate, was inherited at his death in 1547 by his legitimate son, Martín Cortés, born of his second marriage. Subject to various modifications and vicissitudes, the Estate remained in the hands of Cortés’ descendants during the entire colonial period.

The study of the opposition to the Third Mexican Council of 1585 provides a fascinating picture, not only of the determined efforts to undo the work of the most important ecclesiastical meeting of colonial New Spain but also of the various hostilities and animosities, intrigues and rivalries, that were at work in New Spain toward the end of the sixteenth century In the Third Council, the bickering of secular and religious priests, the opposition of bishops to the exorbitant privileges of the religious orders, the encroachments of the civil authority into the domain of the ecclesiastical, and the determination of clerics to defend their privileges and jurisdiction, all converged on the questions of (1) should the Council be permitted to publish its decrees and (2), once published, could they be put into execution?

In the mid-sixteenth century the peninsula of Yucatán, with the remnants of its ancient Maya glories sleeping in the bush, had little to attract corsairs or contraband traders. When, after nearly twenty years of struggle, the Spaniards finally overcame the resistance of the stubborn Maya in the 1540’s, French intruders had already made many profitable voyages to the Antilles and extended their activities to the coast of Tierra Firme. More than another decade was to pass before they Cast a speculative eye on the possibilities of this later acquisition of the Spanish Crown.

The roots of Spain’s policy of attempted exclusion of the foreigner from her New World possessions, whether in trade or in immigration, reach deep into the Iberian religious consciousness of the fifteenth century. The religious pulse of the Catholic Kings was beating strongly and quickly as a result of the coincidence of the momentous events of the year 1492: expulsion of the Jews, conquest of Granada from the Moors, and the discovery of the New World. It is not surprising that the Spanish conception of religiosity should have been linked inseparably with the attitude of exclusion of the foreigner. Expulsion of the hated infidel-foreigner Moor from Spain was integrally associated with the Jews, since the latter had often been in close cooperation with the former (The fact that they had also cooperated with their rulers in Christian-held parts of Spain was swept aside in wake of the religious zeal of the Reconquista.). On the one hand, there was the religious cause of Catholic Christianity to be served, and, on the other, the secular goal of the consolidation of Castilian rule throughout the Spanish portion of the Iberian Peninsula.

Students of revolutionary movements often find that the early leaders were motivated more by a desire for power than by revolutionary idealism. After the movement triumphs, the original chiefs are hailed by their followers as farsighted patriots who sought to reform the country. Hindsight renders this conclusion easy, for the later reforms and legislation appear to flow from the uprising. But it must be remembered that the nature of the revolution may have changed during the fighting, and that those who launched the uprising could not perceive its entire course. It is difficult for historians to cut through the aura of idealism that surrounds these leaders, for no people wishes to hear that its hero was merely seeking personal power. Yet a careful examination of the origins of a revolution is essential to understanding the later developments.

Venezuela underwent three great nineteenth-century revolutions. The first was the extended struggle for political independence from Spain (1810-1821), which transformed the colony into a sovereign state. The second was the Federal War (1859-1863), which, by stepping up sharply the trend toward social democracy, had a lasting effect on the conduct of Venezuelan politics. The third, and the least studied, was the 1899 Revolution of the Liberal Restoration, which integrated the Andes into the political mainstream of the nation.1

The Stewarts of Scotland came to England with William the Conqueror in 1066 and descended from Alan Falhald of Oswestry. Walter, First Lord High Steward of Scotland, was the son of Alan. Sir John Stewart of Bonkyll, who was killed at the battle of Falkirk in 1298, was the son of Lord Alexander Oswestry, Fourth Lord High Steward. Sir John’s brother, Lord James Oswestry, became the Fifth Lord High Steward, and from him descended the House of Stuart, rulers of Scotland and England. William Stewart of Paraguay descended from Sir John of Bonkyll, the twenty-second generation after Alan Falhald. In Scotland the Stewarts were landlords, merchants, bankers and farmers whose fortunes waxed and waned but always seemed to recover. That they were a resourceful clan is a conclusion easily reached if one takes the career of Dr. William Stewart of Paraguay as an example.

Historians generally see their tasks broken into three main stages: as comprehensive as possible collection of relevant documentation, followed by critical and evaluative appraisal of it, and finally, a synthesis based on verified data. Contrary to a considerable body of hostile secondary discussion, critical examination of Juan de Torquemada’s Monarquía Indiana indicates a surprisingly high level of workmanship in at least the first two phases. Although what he strove for in synthesis—an accurate record that would place native Mexican cultures on a par with ancient, classical, and for him modern societies—is an early and interesting example of a comparative approach, the classical and Biblical citations he employed for such comparisons are now largely of curiosity value, except as clues to his own ambience and personal outlook.

In the summer of 1870, Napoleon III desperately withdrew his troops from the stronghold where they had been staving off Italian patriots from the greatest prize of the drive for unification, the city of Rome. Bismarck’s armies were sweeping west, a thrust which would end in the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles. This Franco-Prussian War also emptied the Roman Catholic bishops out of St. Peter’s Basilica where they had been meeting since the previous December at the First Vatican Council.

The parents of most of the Council fathers were born in the decades before the French Revolution. The sons grew up during the Age of Metternich when the firemen of Europe, the Concert Powers, tried to stamp out the embers of the Revolution. Many of these men had just been ordained, a few already wore episcopal mitres when most of Europe exploded in 1848. As they assumed leadership in the Church, Garibaldi and Cavour were evicting Pope Pius IX from most of the Papal States.

A. Wedin’s Works in General

Few epochs in the history of the Portuguese colonial empire have received less attention from historians than the sixty years from 1580–1640 when Portugal and Spain were jointly ruled by the Spanish Hapsburgs, Philip II, III, IV (or I, II, III by Portuguese reckoning). The union of the crowns in 1580 brought together the two greatest maritime empires of the sixteenth century, yet, curiously, this phenomenon has remained relatively unstudied. Portuguese neglect is based on the premise that the union with Spain was a “Babylonian Captivity“ during which the Spanish rulers and their policies destroyed in a half century what had taken the Portuguese two hundred years to build. Nationalism has prompted Portuguese scholars to concentrate on the loss of independence in 1580 or its triumphant restitution in 1640, but although this motivation is still present, a new generation of Portuguese historians has begun to turn from the shibboleths of their nineteenth-century predecessors. Spanish historiography, on the other hand, disdains the topic; hardly surprising since even today to many Spaniards “a Portuguese is a Galician who speaks poorly.” Moreover, there is the embarrassing fact that the Portuguese were able to wrest their independence from Spanish rule.

The chronicle of United States relations with the Mexican Republic has been one marked by professed sympathy, misunderstanding, and undisguised hostility. All three descriptions may be applied to the earliest official and extralegal contacts between the peoples of these neighboring countries. Such turmoil has understandably léd to diverse interpretations by not a few historians in the United States, and probably the most confused period in this chronicle was that of 1810 to 1814 when the accredited United States Agent William Shaler became involved in a government sponsored project aimed at influencing the struggle for Mexican independence.

Among the major sources of conflict between liberals and conservatives in nineteenth-century Latin America was the controversy over the relationship between Church and State and the position of the Church in the newly independent states. Not infrequently the issues occasioned violence and bloodshed and long periods of instability while the conservative defenders of a privileged Church disputed with reforming liberals attempting to enforce their ideas. Such was the case in Colombia and Mexico when liberalism reached its apogee in the middle of the nineteenth century. In both countries there had been many years of conflict between conservatives who were generally pro-clerical and espoused centralist ideas about government and liberals who were anti-clerical and favored federalism. The liberals also believed in legal equality, the sanctity of private property, individualism, laissez faire, and the necessity of limiting the Church to a purely spiritual role in society. Although liberals in both countries had achieved national power prior to the 1850’s, the Mexican Constitution of 1857 and the Colombian Rionegro Constitution of 1863 symbolized the liberals’ victory and enshrined their principles; for years those constitutions provided the rallying point for liberals against the opposition.

In December of 1858, while the press of the United States preoccupied itself with the fearful prospect of a war between the North and South, the newspapers of the Río de la Plata expressed great alarm at the more imminent danger of a clash between the United States and Paraguay. This alarm was generated by the gathering of a formidable American naval force in the estuary of the Río de la Plata, and prompted the American Minister to Brazil to notify Washington that “Great excitement prevailed on the subject of our expedition.” He further reported that the Platine papers “teemed with unfriendly comments, warning all nations as to our supposed designs.”

The Swedish historian Åke Wedin has published three studies of problems in Inca history.1 In the last of these, El concepto de lo incáico y las fuentes, there is a chapter which the author entitled “La relación entre cuatro crónicas tempranas.”2 In it he compares chronicles by Damián de la Bandera,3 Cristóbal de Castro and Diego de Ortega Morejón,4 Hernando de Santillán5 and the so-called Señores.6 His examination has produced a number of conclusions about the chronology of the various sources and the extent to which they are dependent on each other. Some of these conclusions are quite convincing, others are doubtful. The object here is to examine them more closely.

San Antonio, Texas, was founded in 1718, and this year is celebrating its 250th anniversary. To commemorate the event, we would like to publish two documents concerning early San Antonio, one dating from 1716 and the other from 1740.

The functions of the city are legion; and to a certain extent every city in Latin America performs nearly all of them. Trade and commerce, manufacturing and processing, communication and transportation, government and public administration, educational and cultural activities, religious and ceremonial observances, financial and personal services, servicing and repair, and recreation and welfare work, are a few of the better known categories. This list does not include, however, residence per se which is one of the principal raisons d’etre of cities in general. Moreover, even these better known urban functions can be subdivided into many varieties and classes, without in any way being exhaustive. Familiar examples are wholesale and retail trade; motor, rail, water, and air transportation; light and heavy manufacturing; and national, provincial, and local government and administration. In addition some of them tend to overlap, as in the cases of educational and cultural activities, or government and protection. Finally, the absolute and relative importance of any one of the functions, or of any particular combination of them, varies greatly from one city to another and in the same city from one time to another.