By 1592, a century after Columbus’s first voyage and nine
decades after his death, Spain had created an empire as vast and ruthless as
the Mongols.’ Spanish officials and soldiers ruled much of the Western Hemisphere,
from Florida to Peru, and Spain’s banners flew over much of western Europe as
well. By then, too, Spain’s imperium had begun to suffer from imperial overstretch: King Felipe II’s finances were deteriorating, his New
World subjects dying en masse from smallpox and enslavement, and Dutch
rebels and English heretics preyed on his European provinces and American
treasure ships. It was in this context that the engraver Theodore de Bry
published one of the more influential visual representations of Columbus’ “discovery.”
De Bry (1528-1598) made the picture for a series of
illustrated volumes on the European voyages of discovery. It shows a
well-dressed Columbus, accompanied by soldiers, encountering a party of
Indians, who present him with gifts of jewelry. To one side several men erect a cross, legitimizing the Spanish conquest, while in the background other
Indians flee from other disembarking explorers.
I learned of this engraving from a recent article by Michiel
van Groesen, who notes that De Bry’s engraving established an iconic image of
Columbus’s landing that recurred in European illustrations throughout the
eighteenth century. Van Groesen suggests that De Bry wanted an illustration
that appealed to Europeans’ superiority complex, emphasizing their material culture
(clothes, weapons, ships) as well as their more confident bearing and Christian
faith. At the same time, De Bry had a less-than-favorable view of the
Spanish, having been driven from his native Liege for practicing a faith (Calvinism) that
Spain considered heretical. Hence, the picture contains a few subversive elements: some of the Indians are clearly frightened by the intruders,
and their offering of gold reminds viewers of Spain’s greed. Since
De Bry was publishing his books for Europeans of all confessions and nations
(as long as they could read Latin), he didn’t want to alienate Spanish or
Catholic readers, but there is at least a whiff of the “Black Legend”* in
this ostensibly celebratory engraving.
* Introduced by the reformed encomendero and slave-owner Bartolome de Las Casas, whose accounts of Spanish cruelty in the Caribbean De Bry covered and illustrated in his series.