A 500-year-old manuscript page, bearing the signature of Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés, has resurfaced after decades, thanks to the diligent work of the FBI’s art crime team.
According to Smithsonian Magazine, this document, dated February 20, 1527, records payments in gold pesos for expenses tied to Cortés’ expeditions in what became New Spain. It’s a small but telling glimpse into the logistics of conquest after he toppled the Aztec Empire.
The page, originally part of a larger collection at Mexico’s national archives, El Archivo General de la Nación, vanished sometime between 1985 and 1993. Archivists discovered the loss in 1993 while preserving documents on microfilm, noting that 15 pages total had disappeared.
Last year, Mexican officials reached out to the FBI, seeking help to recover page 28 of the Cortés manuscript. A wax numbering system, used briefly in the mid-1980s, provided a critical clue to confirm when the theft likely occurred.
The FBI relied on open-source research to pinpoint the document’s location within the continental United States. Special agent Jessica Dittmer noted it had “changed hands several times over” since being stolen, obscuring the trail of ownership.
While the exact details of the investigation remain undisclosed, the meticulous records of the Mexican archives, including notes on missing pages and torn edges, aided the search. This kind of detective work, blending historical precision with modern tools, proved essential to the recovery.
Cortés arrived in Mexico in 1519, launching a brutal campaign to seize Tenochtitlán, the heart of the Aztec Empire, by 1521. Alongside military conquest, European colonizers unleashed smallpox, a devastating plague that claimed between five and eight million Indigenous lives by the end of 1520.
The 1527 document, tied to Cortés’ travels in the newly claimed territory, captures a pivotal moment just before one of his lieutenants was named co-governor of the region. It reflects the groundwork for royal and religious control over Indigenous populations, a system that endured until Mexico’s War of Independence in 1810.
Special agent Dittmer emphasized the document’s value, stating, “It really gives a lot of flavor as to the planning and preparation for [uncharted] territory back then.” While such records illuminate history, they also remind us of the heavy cost borne by native peoples under colonial rule, a chapter progressives often frame as mere oppression without acknowledging the complex mechanics of empire-building.
This isn’t the first Cortés document returned to Mexico; in 2023, the FBI repatriated a payment order for rose sugar dated April 27, 1527, after it surfaced at an auction in Massachusetts. Mexican officials alerted the agency just ten days before the sale concluded, prompting quick action to halt it.
The auction house, RR Auction, cooperated fully, with lawyer Mark S. Zaid telling the press in 2022 that there was “no issue” from the consignor once informed of the document’s origins. A formal repatriation ceremony followed, reuniting the artifact with Mexico’s archives.
FBI agent Kristin Koch remarked to the press before the 2023 ceremony that many owners are “surprised” to learn their items are stolen and often willing to return them upon understanding their cultural significance. This pattern suggests a growing awareness, yet one wonders if enough is being done to deter the underground trade in historical treasures before they’re peddled as mere curiosities.
No prosecutions will follow this latest recovery, as the document’s journey through multiple hands muddied legal accountability. Still, Dittmer hopes the return sends a clear signal: the FBI remains relentless in pursuing stolen cultural property, no matter how much time has passed.
“Pieces like this are considered protected cultural property and represent valuable moments in Mexico’s history,” Dittmer stated, underscoring the mission to preserve such artifacts for public understanding. While some may argue these efforts distract from modern crises, safeguarding history ensures we don’t lose the lessons—however uncomfortable—of our shared past.
The return of this manuscript page, alongside the earlier document, marks a small victory against the erosion of national heritage. It’s a quiet rebuke to those who’d privatize the past for profit, and a reminder that history belongs not in hidden collections, but in the hands of the people it shaped.
