In this second edition of a work first published in 1963 Sr. Morales Padrón offers a textbook in what I like to regard as the true sense of that often derogated genre; namely, one man’s version of what took place in history. He disarms the reader (student?) immediately by declaring that his purpose is to provide an enjoyable textbook, to be objective, pleasant, not to make a confused mess of it, but to set forth the main acts of discovery, exploration, and the early days of Spain in America. Quite a tall order! And, after explaining his view that it encompassed more than a list of battles, deaths, and dates, he admits that the task he has set for himself is easily and quickly stated, but difficult to carry out and wide in its implications. How true.

Semantic hairsplitting is not engaged in. Very properly, though, key words are explained. While Morales Padrón does not engage in a dissertation à la Edmundo O’Gorman, he does divide discovery into two categories, casual and preparado. The exploits of the Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Greeks, and Romans are grouped under the former because they, unlike the peoples who were active in what is usually considered the Age of Discovery and Exploration, did not “prepare” or organize voyages solely for discovery. A good differentiation which leads us to expect a new approach to an old subject. However, it is vitiated when followed by the too obvious declaration that the real antecedents of Columbus’s voyage are in the Iberian peninsula whose inhabitants went from north to south and around Africa looking for a route to India. Then there is a list of four stages in the development of the discovery and conquest. This, in turn, is followed by the enumeration of no less than seven categories (apartados) to establish a methodology for the account which follows—just the sort of thing which causes college-level history students to groan that they have heard all this at least three times before.

Gold, glory, and the gospel are the reasons usually given for the descubrimiento y conquista and Morales Padrón would subscribe to the last two if only because he considers a search solely for gold to be unbelievable. Thus, it naturally follows that he views Columbus as a man of contrasts—as a medieval man in his mysticism, ethics, faith, and ignorance of America as a new world; but also as a Renaissance man in his curiosity, craving for wealth, and practical ingenuity.

The chronological account of the discoveries and explorations is a workmanlike job occasionally enlivened by a felicitous expression such as “el bagaje bélico.” The Portugese in Africa and the Vikings receive their due and all of the leading actors in the great drama of discovery are given their moments of glory, some perhaps receiving more than is their just portion. Essentially, though, the author is more interested in the character of the conquistador. He uses the analogy that just as in literature we speak of a “generation,” such as that of 1898, so can the term describe periods of discovery and conquest. And just as Miguel de Unamuno, a member of that “generation of ’98,” was fond of speaking of the man of flesh and bone but was primarily concerned with the soul, so Morales Padrón seems to prefer to present an exegesis of the discoverer and conquistador. He leans heavily upon Claudio Sánchez Albornoz in his explication and makes a case for what V. S. Pritchett called a distinctly “Spanish temper,” with characteristics different from those of the rest of Europe, viz., a firmer theocentric concept of the world and an individualism which is endemic to Iberia.

A seminal final chapter deals with the Conquest as seen by the conquered. The author sympathetically describes the Conquest as more than a tragedy—a trauma—for the Indians and attempts to view the development from the neglected side. A valuable fist of indigenous source material is provided and Miguel León-Portilla’s La visión de los vencidos is invoked. A final question is posed: “Who conquered whom?” His answer, “porque el conquistador fue conquistado, y de ahí—amor—lo trascendente de su obra,” is best left untranslated.