Bartholomew de Las Casas; his life, apostolate, and writings — Edition Insights
Edition facts
Before opening Bartholomew de Las Casas; his life, apostolate, and writings — Edition Insights, the edition data offers a quick orientation: 128,674 words, 9 hr 20 min estimated reading time, and 20 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 37.0 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Casas, Bartolomé de las, 1474-1566,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.
How this score is calculated
- Description quality20 pts
- Title & short description10 pts
- Source metadata20 pts
- Text length15 pts
- Chapters / structure15 pts
- EPUB file integrity20 pts
Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
Read the Text
Dominic were the first to defend the liberty of the Indian and his moral dignity as a reasonable being, endowed with free will and understanding. Associated in the popular conception with the foundation and extension of the Inquisition, the Dominicans may appear in a somewhat unfamiliar guise as torch-bearers of freedom in the vanguard of Spanish colonial expansion in America, but such was the fact. History has made but scant and infrequent mention of these first obscure heroes, who faced obloquy and even risked starvation in the midst of irate colonists, whose avarice and brutality they fearlessly rebuked in the name of religion and humanity: they sank, after lives of self-immolation, into nameless graves, sometimes falling victims to the blind violence of the very Indians whose cause they championed—protomartyrs of liberty in the new world.
The conditions under which Las Casas and his co-workers laboured were discouragingly adverse. The mailed conquerors and eager treasure-seekers who followed in the wake of Columbus were consumed by two ruthless passions—avarice and ambition.
Avarice and ambition alone, however, do not adequately explain their undertakings, and we find among them a fierce zeal for Christian propaganda strikingly disproportionate to their fitness to expound the doctrines or illustrate the virtues of the Christian religion. They seem to have frequently compounded for their sins of sensuality and their deeds of blood by championing the unity and purity of the faith—two things that were held to be of paramount importance, especially in Spain, where to be outside formal communion with the Church was to be either a Jew or a Mahometan, or in other words, an enemy of God.
Perverted as their conception of the true spirit of Christian propaganda may appear to us, it may not be doubted that many of these men were animated by honest missionary zeal and actually thought their singular methods would procure the conversion of the Indians. On the other hand, few of those who left Spain, animated by high motives, resisted the prevalent seductions of avarice and ambition, amidst conditions so singularly favourable to their gratification, and we find Las Casas denouncing, as ridiculous and hypocritical, the pretensions to solicitude for the spread of religion, under cover of which the colonists sought to obtain royal sanction for the systems of slavery and serfage they had inaugurated.
The essential differences observable in the Spanish and English colonies in America are traceable to the directly contrary systems of government prevailing at that time in the mother countries. All nations of Aryan stock possessed certain fundamental features of government, inherited from a common origin. Climatic and geographical conditions operated with divers other influences to produce race characteristics, from which the several nations of modern Europe were gradually evolved. Within each of these nations, the inherited political principles common to all of them were unequally and diversely developed. The forms of political liberty continued to survive in Spain, but, under Charles V., the government became, in practice, an absolute monarchy, the liberties of the Córtes and the Councils being gradually overshadowed by the ever-growing prerogatives of the Crown.
In England, on the contrary, the share of the people in the government was, in spite of opposition, of steady growth, only interrupted by occasional periods of suspension, while the power of the Crown declined. These conditions were repeated in the colonies of the two nations, with some variations of form that were due to local influences in each of them. The Spanish colonies relied entirely on the Crown and were, from the outset, over-provided with royal officials from the grade of viceroy to that of policeman, and even with clergy, all of whom were appointed by the king’s sole authority and were removable at his pleasure. These settlements generally owed their existence to private enterprise, having been founded by explorers and treasure-seekers, but in none of them did the colonists enjoy any political rights or liberties, other than what it pleased the sovereign to grant them.
MacNutt's preface immediately establishes a retrospective stance: slavery is dead, and Las Casas can be studied dispassionately for his role in human progress. Yet the biography itself is far from dispassionate. The author portrays Las Casas as "the noblest Spaniard who ever landed in the western world," a man of action whose "gift of universal sympathy" coexisted with practical reform. The opening chapters detail his early life and conversion from encomendero to defender of the Indians, setting up a narrative arc that will follow his decades-long struggle.
The Widow Solano's Conversion
A pivotal episode in the middle excerpts is the conversion of a wealthy widow named Solano. Moved by the friars' preaching on the iniquity of slavery, she not only liberated her two hundred slaves but transferred her plantations to the Dominican Order. MacNutt reports that this "stirred the entire colony profoundly" and caused a "revulsion in public sentiment." The event is notable because it is the only recorded instance of a colonist following the friars' teachings to such an extreme. The author uses it to illustrate the moral impact of Las Casas's campaign, even as he acknowledges that no one else followed her example.
A Bishop at the Helm
When Las Casas and his friars departed for Chiapa in December 1544, their voyage was marked by danger and improvisation. MacNutt notes that the pilot was ignorant, forcing the bishop himself to take the wheel. This detail—Las Casas physically steering the ship—serves as a metaphor for his leadership. The journey ended on January 5, and his first episcopal act was a pontifical mass on the Epiphany, during which he preached on "the injustice and sin of slavery." The author emphasizes that this theme furnished material for all his sermons and writings.
Prudence vs. Zeal in Chiapa
Upon landing, Las Casas resolved to follow "the dictates of prudence rather than the promptings of zeal." Yet the excerpts show that even this moderation could not overcome the colonists' attachment to slavery. MacNutt writes that "no moderation or persuasion on his part could have availed to bring about their renunciation of the established system." The bishop's initial sermons avoided the topic of slavery, seeking instead to convince individuals through private conversation. This strategy reveals the tension between his uncompromising moral stance and the practical challenges of his diocese.
The Friars Under Siege
The colonists' hostility toward the friars is vividly depicted. Threats of violence—including shooting Fray Tomas Casillas—were made, though not carried out. The friars were reduced to near starvation, saved only by the charity of a few sympathizers and the Franciscans. MacNutt notes that the friars' actions were "clearly contrary to their own temporal interests," which eventually won them grudging respect. When the time came for Las Casas to leave, "regret for their departure was expressed on all sides." This shift in sentiment, however partial, underscores the moral authority the bishop had earned.
MacNutt's biography is structured as a chronicle of moral struggle, with Las Casas at the center of a conflict between imperial law and colonial greed. Readers should pay attention to the author's own judgments—he calls Las Casas's triumph "complete"—while noting the gaps in the excerpts, which do not reveal how the bishop's later years unfolded. The work is best approached as a sympathetic portrait that uses specific episodes to argue for Las Casas's place among history's defenders of liberty.
Sometimes a book stays with me not for its grand events, but for one quiet, stubborn conscience—Las Casas’s apology for strangers, that ache of witnessing. Memoirs of Madame la Marquise de Montespan — Volume 1 — Text and Context left a different lingering, more of a glittering palace whisper. Both feel like holding someone’s private hours against your own, that strange warmth of another era breathing close.
There are no reviews for this eBook.
Your personal reading reflection
Build a private reading journal entry for this title.